Napoleon thrust up against his partner, groins coming into contact. Illya groaned in response, and he switched tactics, now sliding up and down the length of the other man's hardness, so that their erections seemed to caress each other, from root to crown and back again. It wasn't the most involved form of lovemaking, nor the most interesting thing they had tried, but not having to worry about the mechanics of sex let him put a greater focus on kissing his blond senseless.

Illya came, shouting something in Russian, and Napoleon might have been able to translate if he was in any position to think clearly. As it was, the sight of his lover orgasming, not to mention the accompanying physical sensation, tended to send him over the edge himself.

They spent several long moments holding each other, sweat covering their bodies, cooling under the spin of the ceiling fan. Illya's head was tucked into the curve of Napoleon's neck and shoulder, where it often rested when they lay together. Napoleon's hand stroked absently up and down the length of his spine, skin on dampened skin. Illya could feel his lover's heart beating against his own, in perfect synchronization. He grinned.

"I love you, Napoleon. Too much."

"I don't know. I don't think that's entirely possibly. You can't love me any more than I love you..." He turned his head to kiss the end of Illya's nose.

"Then you love me too much."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"No, I couldn't change it, either. But..."

"But what, Illyushka?" He ruffled the other man's hair affectionately, trying to disguise the worry that sprung up at Illya's tone.

"It's nothing. I'm sorry, 'pasha, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just think too much also."

"Really? Are you sure? Illya, if you're worried about something--"

"It's nothing. Really. Don't worry yourself. After all, one of us should be carefree."

"It's not easy when you do that pensive, something's-going-to-happen broody routine."

"I'm not brooding." He smiled, getting out of bed and padding to the bathroom. He returned with a moist washcloth, sponging away the evidence of their earlier lovemaking.

He paid extra attention to Napoleon's limp manhood, allowing himself some extra time to fondle shamelessly.

"Lyubov, don't... you'll only make me want it, and I can't."

"Mm, but you're still sensitive, yes?"

"Exceedingly." He squirmed, grabbing his partner's wrist. "Give me a minute."

"You had a minute. You need about seven more, but that's an average."

"You've averaged my recouperating time?"

"Yes. It's important I know just how quickly I can expect to make love to you again on the nights when I have the chance, since I can never be sure how long I may have to go without you."

Napoleon chuckled. "Very productive of you. Let me get you..."

He comandeered the washcloth, wiping the smear of white from Illya's abdomen, then giving into the base desire for vengeance and caressing the other man's genitals.

"Okay, okay, I learn my lesson, Napasha..." Illya took the cloth back. "Wait for me just a minute."

He headed back into the bath, rinsing the cloth out and hanging it back over the bar. When he returned to the bedroom, Napoleon was on his back again, knees bent, looking quite comfortable. He patted his stomach.

"Lie with me."

Illya smiled, gently pressing one of Napoleon's knees down. When both legs were straight out on the bed, Illya straddled his hips, and lay down over Napoleon's chest, chin supported on folded arms.

"Anytime. Well, any time within reason."

"Mm... You are incredible, you know that?"

"Yes, but it's always nice to hear."

"And I thought you were modest!" Napoleon laughed.

"Modest, yes, but also honest. I am incredible. You yourself have convinced me of it, lyubov."

Napoleon kissed his nose again. "What would I do if I didn't have you?"

Illya shook his head, expression darkening. "Don't ask, Napoleon. It's-- Just-- don't ever ask. It's not going to happen."

"What, is it bad luck? What?" He caressed the Russian's cheek. Obviously he had hit a nerve, which hadn't been his intent. He'd never thought about the meaning behind it before, just a string of words you said when someone was important to you. What would I do if I didn't have you? He had never before contemplated *not* having Illya. "What's wrong?"

"If anyone knew about us..." He lay his head down over Napoleon's heart, listening to the steady beat. "You know what might happen... Obviously, they would not allow us to continue."

"We would have to leave UNCLE." Napoleon said soberly. Up until the advent of Illya, work had been his entire life-- aside from the occasional, and often work-related, flirtation. Even now, the work was still a good deal of his life, everything Illya was not. He could hardly imagine giving up either one.

"We would have to... forget... things, too. Information, events... maybe even-- personal ones."

"Would you have to--?"

Illya shrugged. "They might recall me. After all, I'm only here because I'm an agent. If I lost that, then..."

Napoleon locked his arms around Illya's waist. "Well, that's not happening. We've been careful. You hardly ever stay the night with me, and when you do there's always a reasonable excuse. And we've never done it without checking for bugs. We always act pretty casual at work, keep things professional... Nobody's got any reason to suspect that our partnership is anything more than it always has been."

"I've always loved you."

"Illya..."

"I know... I'm not worried, not really, just-- Whenever I think of it, I get a little... paranoid, I suppose. I know we're careful, I know the point is probably moot, I just-- Whenever I think of, of whether or not I might have to do without you..."

"Hush... shh..." Napoleon rocked their bodies gently, cooing into his lover's ear. "I'm sorry... shh... It's all right... nobody knows... Besides, even if Waverly found out a little, as long as we keep getting the job done, that's what matters, right?"

Illya nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"We're okay, right? We're okay?"

"Da..." He snuggled down closer against Napoleon's body.

"Hold me any tighter and you'll be in back of me."

"I love you."

"And I love you, Illyushka mine. So much it hurts sometimes. So cheer up, huh? I'm here now, and I'm not going to let anything tear us apart." He promised.

Illya nodded again, burying his face against Napoleon's neck. "Love you love you love you..."

"Hush... I know, 'lyushka, I know... I love you, too." He smoothed Illya's hair gently, his other hand rubbing gentle circles on the other man's back. "Love you..."

---/-/---

To be continued...

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.