“You and Doyle are getting rather close, milok,” Solo observed as he watched his lover slide the blue pajama pants from his slim hips in the small bathroom.

Illya looked back over his shoulder, the long strands of blond hair masking his face as he smiled.

“Is that a problem for you, Pasha?” Illya’s voice was laced with mischief.

Solo remained impassive as he eyed the blond appreciatively. “Not at all.” Solo lied easily, “but it may be a concern for Bodie.”

Illya chuckled softly, “He always was uptight.”

“I think, the word is jealous,” Solo corrected.

“Hmm, well jealous then, it is confusing.” Illya reached down and began to fill the tub with warm water, which presented Solo with a unique and wholly appealing view. The ancient water heater in the attic groaned in protest as a trickle of hot liquid made it’s way lazily into the bath.

“What is?” The American asked as he dragged his eyes away from Illya’s naked form.

“This whole situation.” Illya rolled his eyes and smiled. Somewhere in the confined space Illya’s mirth became contagious, Solo was delighted with the tease and couldn’t dampen the smile that spread across his face.

“You mean me standing here in a bathroom lusting after your naked body after I come home to find you in your ex-boyfriend’s lover’s arms? No, sounds perfectly normal to me.”

Illya doubled over in fits of laughter, his eyes streaming as he sat down on the side of the bathtub.

“You know Tovarishch, that’s a sound I love to hear.” Solo said as he moved closer to his friend, bowing down to kneel in front of him.

“You’ve heard me laugh before.” Illya protested, as he looked deeply into the pools of liquid chocolate.

“Ah yes, but then it was for someone else,” Solo ran his hands between the slightly splayed thigh slowly moving towards the Russian’s groin.

“Territorial capitalist,” Illya snorted as he parted his legs wider and began to pant as Solo fondled the softly-furred balls.

“Totally,” The American admitted as he traced tiny nips and kisses starting at the Russian’s knees and up toward the lengthening shaft.

“Pasha,” Illya moaned as he fought against the waves of desire overtaking him.

“Hmmm?”

“I might be wrong but I doubt the steam will do your suit any good.” Illya threaded his hand through the dark hair and smiled as Solo stood up.

“No, I guess your right.” Solo’s smile was very wicked indeed as he began to undress.

He moved into the middle of the small room, the overhead light pooling around him as he began to slide his fingers under each button, his eyes never once leaving his partner's face. The shirt opened to reveal a cotton undershirt, which Napoleon pulled up but not off, the crisp linen shirt still clinging to his broad shoulder. Napoleon smiled as he moved his fingers to each of his nipples in turn, tugging at the tiny buds till they stood erect. He allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure as he lost himself to his own touch and thew back his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and his lips parted in an almost silent pant.

Illya was transfixed; his body ached for release as he watched the display of wicked abandon as his partner seduced him without a touch.

“Pasha,” Illya begged, Napoleon smiled the naked emotion in his partner's voice send waves of erotic pleasure up his spine.

The long fingers dipped to the belt buckle and even the undoing of that was an erotic act on its own. He dipped his fingers into the waistband and undid the button to reveal a hard and well-formed stomach. He tugged the zipper free and let the pants rest on his hips, the white cotton briefs underneath bulging with his own desire as he watched Illya dip his hand between his own thighs. Each movement, each undulation of the perfectly hard body beneath the expensive suit, caused Illya’s penis to lengthen and throb, fully distended and almost unbearable.

With infinite patience Napoleon reached up and slid the white linen shirt from his shoulders, pausing only long enough to undo the cuffs and when the shirt finally coasted to the floor with aching slowness. Illya moaned.

The rest of Solo’s suit was removed in the same tantalizing fashion as he held the blue eyes in thrall. His hand reached down and rubbed gently his swollen pectorals and further as he skimmed lightly across his stomach till he reached for his cock. The snub rose head swayed proudly against the impressive length that sprouted from a nest of tight dark curls.

Illya reached out and mirrored his partner’s movements; his own body plucked higher by the intoxicating need that Solo had ignited in him. Napoleon moved in to allow Illya the opportunity to touch, his hand resting against the dark blond hair, petting slowly as the Russians hands filled themselves with his body.

Napoleon tipped Illya’s head back and smiled, the look replete with love and commitment yet still he needed to say it, to assuage the hunger in his own mind and body as he looked down on the man with great love and desire.

“I love you.” Solo said simply.

“And I love you, Napasha,” Illya said as he licked his lips and bent his head towards the American’s groin. In one fluid movement he swallowed his lover whole, hollowing out his cheeks and letting his tongue blaze a trail of molten desire underneath the distended organ.

Napoleon moaned and began to rock gently into the hot mouth that pulled at him. His hand tangled in the blond hair and in a few short strokes felt his ball crawl in their sac and draw up close to his body.

Illya withdrew, blowing a stream of cool air on the wet shaft and Solo shivered.

“I want you Pasha,” The Russian accent thick with desire as he turned off the tap and stood up.

“Then take me,” Napoleon whispered into the inviting mouth, tasting the evidence of his own musk on the sensual lips.

“No. I need.” Illya blushed as he dropped his head away.

“What?” Napoleon prompted as he began to kiss the lightly-stubbled jaw.

“I need you to make love to me,” Illya’s voice was barely a whisper as he trembled in the older man's embrace.

“Are you sure, Tovarishch?” Solo read the desire in his partner's face and yet felt the fear of his own guilt.

Illya nodded. “Yes, very sure.”

“I ah, don’t know if I can Illya.”

“You won’t hurt me, Pasha.”

“Yes I will. Besides, it only has bad memories for you.”

“Not all.”

“You mean not with Bodie.” Solo bit down on the uncharacteristic flare of jealousy. He immediately regretted his own fear and words. “I am sorry, Illya.” Solo dropped his head till their foreheads rested together.

Illya’s hand had not stilled the gentle caress on his back as he held him close. "Yes but that was a long time ago Napasha, I was referring to you.”

“You can't have enjoyed it, Illya, you were drugged out of your mind and I was rough,” Solo let the painful admission drop between them. To his utter surprise Illya just smiled as he kissed him thoroughly.

“In case you had forgotten, I am a man,” Illya punctuated the point by pushing his penis against his lover’s naked thigh.

“As if I could.”

“And not some shrinking flower you need to stop yourself from bruising.”

“But...”

“No buts, Napoleon,” Illya stated firmly as he turned and stepped over the rim of the bathtub into the warm water. He took Solo’s hand in his own and pulled him into the tub and down into the liquid.

“Illya, please can’t we just...?” He rubbed his body across the Russian’s wet lean form causing a pleasing friction.

“No.” Illya arched up under the confining body and rubbed his hands down the length of Solo’s back to cup the firm buttocks.

“Why must you be so determined?”

“Why must this be a problem for you?” Illya answered his brow puckering into a tiny line of annoyance as he quizzed his lover.

Solo coloured as he turned his head away from the too perceptive gaze. “It’s a bad memory, Illya.”

With one long finger Illya turned the head back and smiled. “A bad memory or guilt?”

“Guilt.”

“Hmmm. Well I guess the best way to overcome this guilt is to prove to you that I really do enjoy the act.”

With a deft twist Illya reversed the positions. His strong thighs straddled Solo in the confined space as he reached up and tugged the soap-on-a-rope from the taps.

“Illya,” Solo growled as the blond began to work his hands into a rich sudsy lather. Large strong hands slid down the American’s chest and stopped briefly to toy with the hard nipples. Solo exhaled sharply as Illya began to massage his chest with firm strokes which he punctuated with finger light touches that traced the line down to Napoleon’s abdomen.

Napoleon moved up into the touch with an explosive sigh as Illya’s hand connected with his weeping cock. The Russian smiled in satisfaction as he ran the soap down the crevice of Solo’s legs and worked the soap into a thick hot lather under and around his balls. Napoleon closed his eyes as Illya’s lips descended on his own and plunged his tongue into the bruising kiss. Illya suckled at the sensual lips as his tongue arrogantly demanded entrance and found it. Dueling with its counterpart in an almost brutal fashion both delighting in the sensation of rough beard stubble burning and abraiding flesh. Illya moved, to change his position slightly and kept up the oral attack, the skilled hands toyed with nipples and stroked his shoulders all the while distracting him from his real purpose.

With ruthless intensity, Illya gripped Napoleon’s shoulders as he kissed him breathless and raised himself over the tender rod of flesh. In one deft movement he impaled himself on his lover and sagged forward, the cock inside of him splitting and forcing its way in. His body twitched as Solo moaned the sensations on his cock almost overwhelming him.

Illya stilled his traitorous body and sighed. Within seconds he leaned back, embedding his lover deeper inside of him and looked down with lust-filled eyes.

Illya smiled and reached forward to twine his hand with his lover.

“I love you, Napasha. No other man would I allow to do this.”

Hot tears spilled down Napoleon’s face. Illya reached forward and lapped them away.

“And I trust you, with my life, my freedom and with this,” Illya continued the soft croon, as his moans of desire slipped into the throaty growl of Russian. The low voice became a soothing throb which echoed the desire that built in his loins.

Tentatively Illya began to move, tiny jerks of his hips as he rode his lover. His anus twitched again, clamping onto the rod that speared him as he guided it with internal muscles towards his prostate. On the first pass Illya thew his head back, the ecstasy on his face filled Solo with courage as he began to match the gentle thrusts.

Illya caught his breath as he guided his lover’s hand to his cock.

“Pretend you’re doing this for yourself, Moya Dushka.” He whispered hoarsely.

Solo wrapped his hand around the generous rose-tipped cock and began to pump, his fingers ran lightly up the length and encircled the swollen head.

Illya’s moans were of pure pleasure now as he began to ride Solo in earnest, his body slammed down on the prone man. With a few short strokes, he came his seed spilt across Napoleon’s abdomen; Solo’s own orgasm approached, built and overtook him as he shot his hot essence deep into his lover. Illya collapsed forward his lips urgently seeking those of the man beneath him.

“I love you,” Illya whispered again as he rested his head on Solo’s shoulder. The American wrapped his arms around the slender frame above him and pulled him closer still. The water cooled rapidly but in the afterglow of pleasure was forgotten as they drowsed.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

In stark contrast to the lovers in the bathroom Ray sat crossed legged on the bed, clad only in simple cotton pyjama pants as he watched Bodie do another lap of the room.

“Do you intend to come to bed?” Ray asked with exasperation.

“Eventually,” Bodie grunted.

“What the fuck's wrong with you?” Ray snapped. He had watched the infantile behavior for nearly an hour and it was grating on his nerves.

“Don’t play the innocent with me, Raymond old son, you know precisely what the problem is.” Bodie advanced on the seated man. His anger palpable and Doyle flinched but made no other move. He had a great deal of respect for Bodie’s anger and normally would not seek to provoke it. However, this was not a normal situation and he needed some clarification before the mood swings got them both killed.

“Has it ever occurred to you, you stupid half-Irish bastard that I don’t know?” Ray threw his hands up in the air and stood nose to nose with his recalcitrant partner. Staring him down as you would a mad dog.

Bodie raked his hand through his hair and took a step back. His blue eyes storm dark and confused.

“No.” All bluster went out of the big man as he slumped on the end of the bed.

“You want to talk to me or should I beat it out of you?” Ray threatened as he pulled a chair to sit in front of Bodie.

“About?” Bodie studiously avoided his partners gaze.

“About what is happening to us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Ray.” Bodie snapped.

“Really?” the cold voice brought the big man’s head up. Regret clearly evident in his gaze.

“Just confused, I guess.”

“Yeah well that I could tell,” Ray answered softly reaching out to rest his hand against his partner’s dark hair.

Bodie closed his eyes and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Been a prick haven’t I?”

“Nah.” Doyle smiled as he kissed the furrowed brow. “Might help if you told me what I had done wrong though.”

“You sunshine? Nothing. I guess I got a bit stunned when I came home.”

“Oh.” Doyle chuckled understanding slowly beginning to seep into him.

“Okay. Seeing Illya threw me, seeing you with Illya well.” Bodie was up pacing again.

“Jealous?” Ray hid the tiny smile.

“Not normally.”

“Yes, normally.” Ray teased as he watched the sleek muscles move as Bodie paced.

“I guess.”

“Would you please just sit down.” Ray was back on the bed cross-legged as he patted the space in front of him.

Bodie slowly did the orbit and finally came to rest perching on the corner of the bed. Ray allowed him the space he seemed to need and rested back watching him from slitted eyes.

“Tell me.” Ray prompted.

Bodie heaved a sigh and seemed content to stay silent. Long minutes passed before he began to speak.

“I met Illya just after I came back from Africa for the first time. Mum and Dad kicked me out and I was staying with Dad’s sister in Cambridge.”

“Why?”

Bodie frowned, “Why what?”

“Why did they kick you out?”

Bodie shrugged, “Mum didn’t like me going off to fight when I was so young and Dad and me didn’t get along anyway. Not the point really. It was rough in Africa, Ray.”

Ray winced; the pain in his partner’s voice caused him to shudder. Bodie never talked about Africa, never about the past that he suspected was painful for the big man.

“Hey.”

Bodie looked up. “Yeah?”

“I love you. Nothing will alter that.” Ray took Bodies hand in his own and waited.

“In Africa, I was very young and the men there were very jaded, and their attentions were often painful.”

The nerve in Doyle’s jaw jumped as he realized what he was being told. Involuntarily he tightened his hold.

“Anyway when I came home and met Illya it was like Africa never happened. I actually believed it was all a terrible nightmare and I would get over it.”

Ray caressed the back of Bodie’s hand with his thumb, keeping the contact close and consistent.

“I don’t think I would have joined the Para’s had it not been for Illya. He gave me a great deal of courage and faith in myself as well as a lot of other issues.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, it’s not important. I thought even though he was going back to Russia that one day I would see him and he would be proud of me. Fucking stupid really.”

“Sometimes we need others to believe in us so we can believe in ourselves,” Ray answered softly.

“Illya in my heart was always mine and over the course of time I got over the stupidity of believing it was anything more than a brief affair that re-established my faith.”

“And then you saw him in Russia.”

Bodie bowed his head, “Yeah, he was firing at me to cover his own arse, but he pulled a gun and gave me no choice. I managed to get a few words out.”

“Yes?” Ray asked unable not too.

“Things like, I can take you with me, you’ll be safe, Illya don’t do this, you know as I said stupid things. And then he pulled a gun and I shot him and my world fell apart all over again. I honestly thought I had killed him he went down so pale and there was so much blood.”

The weight of the memory pressed upon Bodie like a tangible force, his heart open and aching for the lost moment when he had forgotten to grieve. “But then he opened his eyes and smiled and said to me, You have three minutes to get clear before I sound the alarm. Run. And the gun was in his hand again and it was firing at me. I ran.”

“You had a squad to look out for, your mission was over, what else were you supposed to do?” Ray asked.

“You don’t get it do you? I mean it took me years. I loved him Ray, I thought that I had killed him or that he would betray me and, oh shit.” Bodie raked his hand through his hair.

“Yeah I get it Sunshine,” he said softly. “But what has this got to do with me?”

Bodie took a deep breath and continued on, “When Illya was drugged with the Ketamine he turned away from Solo and me and turned to you. Why?”

Ray laughed softly, “Yeah Napoleon had trouble with that too, and I’ll tell you the same thing I said to him. I was safe Bodie. I meant nothing to him; I want nothing from him. That’s all love, nothing else.”

“Really?” Bodie’s tone was disbelieving as he looked at Ray fully for the first time. “Tell me you didn’t kiss him in that bar.”

“I was doing my job Bodie. It was the only way I could think of to get us both out of there alive.”

“Yeah? I saw the look on your face when you came back.” Bodie was up pacing again and Ray closed his eyes.

“And when you came home tonight you saw me with him in the chair downstairs, put two and two together and came up with eleven.”

“I lost him Ray, I buried him and went on. It nearly killed me; I volunteered for every no hope job that the squad was given. I no longer cared about living, about surviving. I guess that’s why I did.” Bodie’s lips twitched into a small half smile.

“Bodie,” Ray said with soft despair as he reached for his lover.

“I couldn’t bare to lose you, especially not to him, Ray I just couldn’t.” Bodie slumped down onto the edge of the bed and Ray crawled behind him, wrapped him solidly in his long arms and rocked slowly.

“You really are a stupid half-Irish prick sometimes William Andrew Phillip Bodie.” Ray kissed the back of his neck.

Bodie shivered as he allowed himself to be guided back down to the bed.

“I love you. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily,” Ray added as he kissed his lover’s lips.

Bodie smiled and ran his hand through the unruly curls.