With those words, Illya set his scarred 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.

When he lifted his head after giving Napoleon's cock a last lick and a gentle kiss, he looked at the unconscious man. 'Who'd have thought sex would be his Achilles' heel?' Illya wondered. 'Wasn't he supposed to be seducing me? I've never been in this position before. What do I do now?'

Illya didn't want to be in love; the whole thing was a damned nuisance. Who knew what sort of silliness a Napoleon in love would come up with as perfectly reasonable? He'd obviously never lost his heart before; such a man would be malleable, to an extent. Did Illya have it within him to do as Napoleon had doubtless been ordered to do to him? His practical side said, 'You must; it will be good for the cause,' while his heart admonished, 'How can you? You love him.'

He briefly considered gathering his clothes and leaving, but Napoleon stirred and softly asked, "Illyusha?"

"I am here, Napasha," he answered, climbing up in bed to accept a kiss. "What do you want, my love?"

Illya softly whispered in his ear before nibbling the lobe.  "Let me touch you," Napoleon said, running a hand down Illya's side and back up to caress a nipple. "Let me taste your skin," he continued, kissing, licking, and gently sucking the other man's neck. "Let me make love to you, and show you how much I love you, and how joyous loving can be."

He didn't wait for an answer, but began to kiss and fondle the man beside him. Napoleon rolled them both so he was leaning over Illya as he worked his magic. Hands and lips traced a path over the Russian's skin, locating erogenous areas and giving them special attention. Napoleon noted every place that made Illya gasp, moan, or wiggle and mentally filed it away for future reference.

Illya was rock-hard, leaking, and moaning nearly incoherently when Napoleon breathed into his ear, "What do you want?"

"Please," the aroused man husked, "take me -- fuck my ass -- or with your mouth -- somehow -- just please, something -- anything -- for release." He was so aroused he could barely breathe.

Napoleon's response was to reach for the lube he'd put under the pillow earlier, squeezing some on his fingers and rubbing them together to both spread the lube and warm it. He then reached down between Illya's legs to his most intimate opening, smearing the lube on the outside before gently inserting a finger. Illya gasped and arched his back trying to deepen the penetration.

"Easy now," Napoleon said, holding him down with his free hand, "relax, lie still, be patient. I want to go slow so you enjoy it more."

"I don't need slow," Illya moaned, "I need relief -- please!"

No matter how Illya begged Napoleon continued to go slow, lubricating and stretching while stimulating and preparing his love for the larger object to come. It wasn't until he was certain Illya was completely ready Napoleon knelt between his thighs, put Illya's ankles over his shoulders, and gently entered him an inch at a time until he was fully sheathed. 'God, he's so hot and so tight,' Napoleon thought, 'if I don't move slowly I'm not going to last longer than a horny teenager.'

He held them both still until he regained a measure of control, then began to slowly thrust. Illya matched him, begging for more speed, and Napoleon gradually obliged; though he also slowed down if he felt himself getting too close to the edge. Faster and slower Napoleon went, drawing Illya higher and higher until neither man could stand it any longer, then he pounded into the Russian's ass while stroking Illya's leaking manhood. Illya shrieked, arched his back, and shot hot semen over both men, the tightening of his muscles around Napoleon driving him over the edge to his own release, his seed filling his love and his cry of passion echoing Illya's.

Gradually Napoleon's breathing returned to something approaching normal, and he checked Illya. The younger man had passed out from the stimulation, and Napoleon took a moment to simply look at the man who'd turned his world upside down. "Illya my sweet little love," he whispered, "how do I convince you to join me as a member of THRUSH?"