Both men moaned and pulled themselves out of the space between the bed
and the wall.  Napoleon grabbed his cigarette-case-shaped device from the
nightstand, opened it, and answered, "Solo here."

"I hope I didn't wake you," Waverly's voice came over the device, "but I
needed to update you on our plans to capture or eliminate the people who are
trying to kill Mr. Kuryakin.  We've placed his obituary in the local papers,
so he'll need to remain at your apartment until this is resolved.  For the
time being, you've developed a severe cold and are staying home to nurse
it.."

"Understood, sir," Napoleon replied.

"Good to hear it.  I trust you'll be able to handle any unexpected
visitors."

"We'll be on the lookout, sir."

"See that you are.  Waverly out."

Napoleon signed off and turned to his houseguest, who had moved away while
he spoke to their boss.  In fact, he was no longer even in the bedroom.

"Illya?" he called softly, coming out to the front rooms.

The Russian was prowling -- that was the only word to describe it -- the
living room, double checking the locks on the windows and door.

"They're not likely to attack tonight, even if they knew where you were,"
Napoleon said, intercepting the other man and wrapping him in a loose
embrace.

"Napasha -- Napoleon.  Perhaps it would be better to wait until this is
over."

"Illya, I don't *want* to wait!  Tomorrow will be soon enough to worry about
someone coming to kill you -- assuming, of course, they don't think you're
dead already and somehow find out you're here."  He paused to nibble Illya's
enticing neck.  "It's late, and we really ought to be in bed."

Illya decided not to argue, and let the other man lead him back to bed.

They sat down together on the side of the bed and began to kiss and touch
each other, tentatively at first, then with more speed and desperation as
passion flared.  Napoleon pushed Illya down onto the bed, and two sets of
trembling fingers undid buttons and ties, hands pushing away the clothes
which were hampering their efforts to reach the flesh beneath.

Soon both men were naked and mapping each other with fingers, lips and
tongues.  Napoleon was working his way down Illya's tummy to the really good
parts when Illya accused him of trying to get away, sat up and dragged the
man's legs up toward the head of the bed, placing a knee on either side of
his head and swallowing Napoleon whole.

The dark haired agent gasped and did his best to return the favor, caressing
his partner's balls and ass with one hand while holding himself up with the
other.  All too soon he was arching his back and filling Illya's mouth with
semen, which the other man seemed to have no problem swallowing.  He
paused long enough to get his breath back and finished his partner off,
giving at least as good as he got.

Napoleon turned himself around and lay down next to Illya, pulling him into
a warm embrace and kissing him.  They shared the taste of each other, then
were content to simply lay together for a while, idly kissing or caressing
each other.

Eventually idle caresses turned into the more purposeful variety as their
bodies recovered from their earlier activities, and soon they were once
more moving against each other with purpose.  Napoleon asked, "Top
or bottom?"

"Ummm, bottom, Napasha.  Face up, or face down?"

"I'd like to see you, if you don't mind."  He reached into the nightstand
and pulled out a tube of KY jelly.

"Were you planning to seduce me?" Illya asked.

"Not at all.  Some of the girls in the typing pool are just -- adventurous."

"They'd better plan on being adventurous with someone else --"  The last
word ended in a hiss as Napoleon inserted a jelly-slicked finger into his
anus, beginning the stretching and lubricating which would prepare the
other man for making love.

One finger became two and then three as Napoleon readied his partner
for the next step, occasionally teasing his prostate.  As he placed a pillow
under Illya's hips and knelt below him, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Illya answered, "I want you.  I'm ready.  Do it now!"

Napoleon threw Illya's legs over his shoulders, positioned himself and
gently pushed into his partner.  He entered carefully, not wanting to
hurt or damage Illya more than necessary.  As his partner -- now lover
as well -- adjusted, Napoleon increased the speed and power of his
thrusts, until he was pumping as hard and fast as he could, eyes
squeezed shut in passion, one hand on Illya's hip to hold him in place
while the other slid up and down the other man's cock in time with
his thrusts.

He heard Illya cry out in Russian, felt the man stiffen as his orgasm
began, then was feeling the waves of release around his cock as he
felt Illya's jerk, his seed spilling out between them and over Napoleon's
hand.  He thrust a half dozen times more into the other man's passage
before his own orgasm took him, locking his muscles into the spasms
which accompanied release.

He carefully lowered one of Illya's legs and slid out from between them,
letting the other drop off his shoulder as he did so. As he curled up next
to Illya and pulled the covers over them, he heard the Russian sleepily
murmur, "Next time, I get to top."

He was looking forward to next time.

---

This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.