Illya tugged at Napoleon's hand, dragging him from the table to the bedroom, smile still gracing his lips. Napoleon made a lunge for those lips, but Illya ducked away, laughing.

"Not yet... lie down." His hands pressed gently against Napoleon's shoulders, easing him down. Once horizontal, they kissed.

"Mm... Definitely *your* devotee..."

Illya chuckled, the reverberations passing into Napoleon's mouth, and his fingers began working at his partner's shirt buttons. Napoleon skipped over Illya's shirt buttons, going straight for his belt. They began undressing each other quickly, until Illya stopped.

"Wait... no. Let me take my time on you."

"As you wish." Napoleon shrugged, lying back, watching a pair of strong golden hands smooth over his skin, bringing his eyes up to watch the smoldering blue gaze that locked onto his body.

Illya bent his head, leaving a trail of kisses down the line dividing Napoleon's abdomen. Between each kiss, he would whisper a word, just too quiet to be understood.

"What's that?"

"I am saying that I love you... shh..."

"Good enough for me. Too good for me, maybe."

"Nyet... nothing is good enough." He slid the trousers down his partner's legs, licking the spot behind Napoleon's left knee.

"I think you are." He gasped at the unexpected touch of the tongue against sensitive skin, a place he had never considered to be an erogenous zone before Illya. "You're more than good enough, Illyushka."

Without a word, Illya removed his own clothing, eyes burning into Napoleon's. He reached for the nightstand, his hand blindly opening the drawer, finding a bottle of hand lotion, inconspicuous enough to be purchased.

They took turns buying, so that no one man would seem to go through it at too fast a rate. He had chosen this bottle, but it ended up by Napoleon's more comfortable bed, where they were more likely to make love.

There was a question in his gaze as he squeezed some onto his fingers, reaching for his own erection.

Napoleon nodded. He wasn't sure if speaking would break some spell woven over them, but then again, he wasn't sure he could speak, so it didn't matter.

Illya coated himself, worked a liberal amount of lotion into Napoleon, and lowered himself down over the other man.

"I love you."

"I love you," he swallowed. "love you..."

"You want this?" Illya asked, still unsure, despite the fact that his partner's legs were thrown up over his shoulders, his opening exposed. Vulnerable, Illya thought. Not something you saw often.

"Yes. No more teasing."

"I was afraid you might not..."

"Illya... I'm waiting for you... and I'm getting impatient..." Napoleon breathed, spreading his legs wider apart.

Illya nodded, entering his lover carefully. He moved slowly inside the tight, hot space, still scattering kisses over Napoleon's chest, throat, and face.

"You're not-- not going to break me... you know..." Napoleon smiled, capturing the Russian's mouth.

Illya broke away. "Won't hurt you..."

"No. You won't." Their eyes locked. "I promise, you won't... Please... more."

He gave in, abandoning a little more of his precious self control. He was rewarded with a look of pure ecstasy on Napoleon's face as he shoved up against the prostate. The decision came in an instant: they had carried on long enough, and the sooner he made Napoleon come, the better.

"Illya... Illya!" Napoleon threw his head back, missing the headboard by an inch. His body stiffened, statue-still for a brief moment before orgasm took him, and he collapsed, boneless and shuddering, onto the mattress beneath Illya.

His lover followed shortly, and they cradled each other, lying on their sides, for several long moments.

Finally, Illya shivered, this time from cold and not from passion, and he shifted his weight around, pushing the semen-stained comfortor to the floor and pulling the topsheet and blankets up over their bodies.

"Mm... thanks."

"For you, Napasha, anything."

"Stick around?"

"I guess I said anything. That means anything." He smiled, resting his forehead in the hollow between Napoleon's neck and shoulder.

"Well, you'd only get cold again if you got out of bed."

"Ah, so true." Illya snuggled even closer, his arm wrapping around Napoleon's waist. "But somehow I doubt that this is what Mr. Waverly had in mind when he said 'undercover'."

Napoleon shrugged. "I like my way better. Besides, my way we don't need to come up with fake names."

---/-/---

~FIN~

Yes, I will write the story where they actually go on the mission you got a teaser for. Don't worry, I'm not so evil as to put a gun on the mantle w/out firing it in the third act.