by Loke

"Nyet . . . lyubov.  Never only that."  Illya drew the larger man closer, his own eyes bright.  "We do this for love."

"My love," Napoleon whispered as he trailed kisses across Illya's face, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the shirt beneath them.  It was quickly pushed aside, as were the rest of both men's clothing.  Mouths and hands explored exposed flesh in feverish delight, teasing a nipple to hardness here, brushing across nether cheeks there, eliciting gasps and moans form each man
in turn.

"Pasha," the fairer man gasped, "tell me what you want."

"Kiss you," came the reply, "everywhere.  Taste all of you.  Want you so much.  Want you to want me."

"I do, Pasha," Illya reassured him, "with all my heart.  Do what you will. I am yours for the taking, always."

He needed no further encouragement.  He kissed, nibbled, and licked his way, gently nipping his love's collarbones, kissing his way across his chest to tease first one nipple and the other with lips, teeth, and tongue.  He nuzzled Illya's armpits, inhaling his warm, musky scent, while nibbling his way along his ribcage.  He licked and kissed his way down his belly, causing to slip his tongue into his love's navel while gently sucking the surrounding flesh.

Napoleon lapped his way further down, to the prize jutting from its nest of golden curls.  Illya was slightly larger than he would have guessed, and he thanked whatever gods were responsible for their generosity as he pulled back his foreskin and planted a gentle kiss on its head, licking away the fluid leaking from it.  He opened his lips and took the head in his mouth,
alternating gentle suction with tongue play.  His love thrust upward with his hips, begging half-coherently for more.  He responded by slowly taking more and more of his shaft into his mouth, until his nose nestled in the golden curls and his lips were flush with his groin.  His head began to bob, gently sucking on the upward motion and licking on the downward.  One hand found lubricant from some unknown source, and he spread some on his fingers and that most intimate of openings before gently breaching it with first one then more fingers, gently stretching the opening and teasing his prostate.

"Ahh, Pasha, yes, oh, more, please, faster," Illya gasped out.  Napoleon sped up, and soon he was howling his passion and shooting his seed down a willing throat.  The dark haired man swallowed it down as if it were a glass of water in a desert, licking the last drops away from the softening cock as it returned to its bed of curls, at least temporarily.

The smaller man pulled his larger love up for a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue.  He rolled them over so he was straddling his hips.  "You worked very hard pleasing me, my Pasha-love," he whispered, "now let me work hard pleasing you."

"Go slowly, Illyusha-sweet," Napoleon whispered back, "we have the time, and I don't want you to hurt yourself, my love."

Illya nodded and complied, slowly impaling himself on his love's rampant member, and waiting for a moment before beginning to slowly ride.  He gradually increased his speed, the man below him meeting him thrust for thrust.  He felt his Pasha's hand wrapping around him and matching the speed of their movements.  They cried out together as his semen spurted across the man beneath him, his orgasm triggering his love's.

As they cuddled together in the warm aftermath of loving, Illya spoke once more.  "We need to discuss what will occur next, and formulate a strategy against the forces of darkness."