"Are you ready, Napoleon?"

"Whenever you are", Solo replied, certain of his victory. What happened next would be engraved on his memory forever for, with deliberate slowness, the blond began to undress. Napoleon swallowed,trying desperately to calm his racing heart as each layer revealed the golden body inch by agonizing inch. "Christ, you're beautiful!” he heard himself whisper, then blinked in shock at the sincerity in his voice, not the words.

"Thank you, Napoleon", Illya replied, in kind. "Now its your turn."

For one of the few times in his life Solo felt emotionally powerless as he watched Illya approach him but in this case, it felt wonderful. Within minutes he was rude. He was so enraptured by this vision before him that his usual conceit was forgotten.

"You are magnificent, Napoleon", Illya murmured, running an appreciative finger down the strong masculine chest.

Before Napoleon could act, powerful arms swept him off his feet, carried him to the large bed and tenderly laid him there. He hissed as that perfect body blanketed his own - chest to chest, groin to groin, toe to toe they fit as if custom made for each other. "Illya...” he groaned.

"Hush!” Illya commanded, gently.

Napoleon obeyed, his eyes fastened on the beautiful face above his, then all thought fled as full lips claimed his in a kiss that seared his very soul. When they were finally released, left them tingling. He wanted to reach up and reciprocate, to wrap his arms around the gorgeous body but his arms wouldn't obey him. 'Lie back and enjoy' his heart encouraged, 'You've wanted this for so long.'

"What would you like, Napoleon?"

The question barely penetrated his pleasure-fogged brain. "Haven't a clue", he croaked.

"Excellent", Illya cooed, then leaned down and sit his mouth to his self appointed task.

Napoleon drew in ragged breaths, his body heaved, as the Russian ministered to every sensitive spot on his body with a kiss here, a lick there. "Please..." 'Jesus, did I just beg!'

Illya looked up. "Please what, Napasha? Tell me."

Napoleon was so hard by now that thinking was impossible. "Whatever..."

Illya ignored the answer and scooted down the American's body until his mouth was positioned directly over the impressive cock. "No, Napasha, tell me."

A tiny drop of sanity asserted itself and, for a moment, Solo's vision cleared. 'Gods, what is going on? My mission was to seduce him!' "Make love to me, Illyusha, please", he heard himself reply.

"Why, Napasha? Are you certain?"

Napoleon raised his scared palm, that it was bleeding did not surprise him. "I have had this fantasy since I was a teenager. While having a conversation with my good right hand, as I came I swore that if I ever found a lover worthy of me I would foreswear all others and love that person, faithfully, forever and beyond death." He paused; searching the blue eyes now glazed with passion. "You said the blood doesn't lie. Have I found him?"

Illya nodded his smile genuine. "Now you understand, Napasha. No matter what plots or deceptions our brains may conceive against each other, the blood will not let our hearts lie."

With those words, Illya set his scared palm to Solo's, entwined their fingers, took the steel hard cock fully in his mouth, and proceeded to drive his lover to the limitless heights of pleasure.