The Post-Nowhere Affair

by Tauna

Kudos to Katya and Brigitte for all their help!

**Disclaimer** MGM owns Illya and Napoleon, I just play with them. You should be over 18 and not offended by two boys in love to read this.

"Illya, that was the most ill-mannered thing I have ever seen you do!"

Napoleon was shouldered out of the doorway by a small, fuming blond. Illya only snarled at him and stomped across the room. His lips were a thin white line and his sapphire eyes blazed.

"Ill-mannered! You're lucky I didn't strangle her myself! Then it would indeed be happy days!"

"What is wrong with you? How could you behave like that in front of that poor girl."

"Poor girl?! he hissed, You fell for her!"

"Illya... I..."

"Don't you even try to deny it."

Napoleon backed away, his hands raised in surrender.

"OK, I won't deny it."

Illya growled. He flung his suitcase on the floor in a rage.

"How dare you fall for her!"

"Illya, the door..."

Napoleon exhaled slowly and shut the door, locking it. Fortunately, Las Vegas was like New York; no one paid any attention to fights they weren't involved in and this looked like it was going to be a big one. He crossed the room towards his partner.

"Illya, look. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean for things to go the way they did, but I had amnesia, for God's sake. What do you want from me?"

Napoleon reached for his partner. Illya shrugged him off. He stood shaking, fists clenching and unclenching. Napoleon paced, his hands shoved in his pants pockets.

"Illya—look, I'm grateful you found me. They were not going to be nice to me for too much longer."

"Nice!" Illya snarled. He whirled and grabbed the desk chair, smashing it into splinters against the wall. "I'm covered in dust and scorched while you had THRUSH being nice to you?"

"Well..." Napoleon tried, at least, to look contrite.

"Were you tortured?"

"Ah... only a little."

Napoleon fidgeted in frustration.

"Were you imprisoned?"

"Um, not really."

"Not really... not really! That is bullshit, Napoleon! While I was out driving myself crazy to find you... you were romancing some blonde THRUSH tart!" Illya spat.

His face was scarlet, more from fury than from sunburn.

"Illya," Napoleon said softly, "I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt this way. I admit I liked her, the computer wasn't wrong about that. Hell, they don't know how right they were. She was just the wrong blonde scientist. She may have been very much like you, but she could never be you."

Illya's eyes grew large. The confusion was evident on his face.

"Tertunian's computer was extremely accurate, Illya. She was the perfect female match."

"And she was like me?" he asked in disbelief.

" Very much so. I wonder what would have happened if they hadn't limited the subjects to females..."

Illya ran his hand through his hair. His mouth fell into an unpleasant frown.

"How was she like me, Napoleon?"

Napoleon chewed his lip. He surveyed his livid partner with a hungry eye. Illya looked so hot in those low-slung, skintight pants, it was all he could do to remember Mara's name.

"Well... she was blonde, and a scientist, and she had heavy black glasses like the ones you wear, blue eyes, an amazing figure, a lovely lilting accent and all the social grace of a starving tiger."

Illya stared at him in stunned amazement. His lip quivered.

"Did you have sex with her?"

Napoleon smiled. He was going to have to dance his way around this one carefully. He leaned closer to his partner. One slim finger reached up and stroked Illya's jaw.

"Well, she gave it the old college try. Actually, I really feel sorry for her. That computer matched her to me as much as it matched me to her. She didn't have a chance. And no, before you start, you have no reason to be jealous. Even in my drugged state I knew she was not who I really wanted."

He leaned in and kissed Illya lightly, gauging his temper. His partner was still rigid and shaking.

"Don't touch me," Illya growled, "And I am not jealous."

Napoleon ignored him. His hands slid around his partner's hips and stroked absently.

"This has taken an unexpected turn, hasn't it?"

A slight quiver of the lip was the only clue that Illya understood him.

"I scoured that desert looking for you. I thought you were dead."

"I'm not."

"So I see." He tried vaguely to shift from Napoleon's grip. "I told you not to touch me."

"Too late, partner mine. I think I already have."

Napoleon's lips claimed Illya's again, his hands gripping more tightly. He let go of the kiss and looked his partner in the eye. Illyas possessiveness had become more apparent over the last few missions.

"Youve never acted like this before. Youve never minded the women."

No but... Illya shook himself.

You obviously mind now.

What I mind is that you allowed yourself to be manipulated by some THRUSH woman who happened to be like me.

"Hmm yes, well, she may have some similarities to you, but let's talk about how Mara is not like you."

Napoleon leaned down, burying his nose in silken blond hair.

"She may have been a blonde, but her hair could not compare to yours."

"She was a bottle blonde," Illya snorted, somewhat mollified.

"Indeed," Napoleon chuckled. "And she didn't smell like you at all."

"At this point, Napoleon, you should be grateful for that."

"Ahh, you may be right on that count." He laughed. His lips trailed over Illya's neck, sucking lightly. "Also, her skin didn't feel like yours. You know how sexy I think your scars are."

"So that's why I keep getting them."

Napoleon smiled and stroked Illya's eyebrow.

"And her eyes were not even remotely as beautiful as yours."

"Now you are being silly."

Napoleon's hands grasped Illya's.

"And these..." He kissed Illya's knuckles. "These are unlike anyone else's. They are pretty big for someone your size... and you know what they say..."

"Napoleon!"

"True, your feet aren't so big—but I digress. You know how I feel about your hands, Illya. You do things to me no one else can. It makes me hard just watching you with a gun."

Napoleon sucked Illya's trigger finger. His tongue teased it, then let go. Illya shivered.

"And then we move to the more obvious differences. She may have had nice legs, but not your muscles."

Illya sighed as Napoleon stroked his thigh possessively.

"Her ass was not even in the same league as yours."

Napoleon's hands teased and cupped his cheeks. Illya purred.

"And she most certainly didn't have this..."

Napoleon's hot fingers stroked Illya's cock through his tight brown pants. A small groan escaped Illyas lips. Napoleon could feel the heat starting to rise. His lips pulled at Illya's dusty plaid shirt.

"Am I forgiven yet?" he whispered.

"You just want me to fuck you."

Napoleon snorted. He sensed a dissipation of the storm.

"Yes, well, I always want that. I'm serious here, Illya. Am I forgiven?"

Napoleon's lips teased and tickled his partner's neck. He nibbled Illya's ear. He thrilled when he felt Illya's arms slip around him.

"Yes, Napoleon. I forgive you," he sighed.

Their lips met in a hungry kiss. Their hips ground against one another impatiently. Illya snorted as he felt Napoleon begin to maneuver him towards the bed. Then he noticed the bed itself. He pulled out of the kiss.

"Napoleon?"

"Hmmm?"

"The bed is round."

"Yes. Caesar's Palace is known for that." Napoleon tongued his partner's ear.

Illya's eyes grew wide as he took in the rest of the room.

"There's a mirror on the ceiling," he whispered, disbelief apparent in his voice.

"All the better to see you with, my dear."

Illya's laugh tinkled through the air.

"And what makes you think you'll be on your back?" Illya's smile was devilish.

Napoleon licked his lips. He quickly undid his tie and yanked it clear of his neck. His eyes raked over Illya with ill-concealed lust. The blond scratched his stomach. His nose wrinkled as he toed out of his ankle boots.

"I want a shower. I'll be fast."

"No... Illya... um, don't, please."

Napoleon slid his hands around his partner's shoulders. He stroked Illya's dusty chest slowly. Napoleon's hands slid down and began to unbutton his shirt. Illya suddenly slapped Napoleon's hands away. He seized Napoleon's shirt and yanked it open. He pulled it roughly from his partner's shoulders and flung it carelessly aside. His hands traveled greedily over Napoleon's body. Illya smiled at the flush growing rosy over his partners chest. He rubbed his hands over Napoleon's plump bottom, squeezing lightly. His lips and teeth teased Napoleon's neck until he suddenly stepped out of reach. Napoleon gasped slightly.

"'Please,' is it?" Illya purred.

Illya stood with his arms crossed, eyeing his partner hotly. He smiled slightly. Napoleon's eyes dropped meaningfully to the rapidly swelling bulge in Illya's pants. Illya pushed him back until he sat heavily onto the edge of the bed. Napoleon chuckled. He hooked a finger in one of Illya's belt loops and pulled him closer. He worked open the button and slid the zipper down slowly. His fingers eased the fabric away from the prize he sought.

"Yes, Illya. Please."

Napoleon tongued the tip of the rosy cock. Illya sighed and reached up to stroke his partner's soft hair.

"Ok go on," he croaked.

Napoleon never needed to be told that twice. He tipped Illya forward and brought him swiftly down to the bed. His strong hands peeled his partner from the dusty pants. He held Illya's eye for one moment as he sniffed the pants and tossed them aside.

"Mmmm... eau de Kuryakin and cordite. A heady mix, tovarishch."

"Tu es fou,"[1] Illya chuckled.

Napoleon pushed the blond flat.

"Not that crazy. Look up, Illya. I want you to see what I do when we make love."

Illya reluctantly let his gaze focus on the ceiling mirror. He colored slightly as he saw himself sprawled over the bedspread, semi-clothed and in need. The sight of Napoleon's dark head hovering over his cock made him squirm.

"Dont play with me, Napoleon..." he slurred.

"Why not? You seem to enjoy it so much."

Illya growled as his partner's hot mouth burned a trail over his skin. As he lay back under Napoleon's onslaught, his eyes were drawn back to the mirror. It was bizarre to see things from this angle. He watched himself moan and writhe in abandon. He felt embarrassed and sickly fascinated at the same time.

"Ahh, the voyeur in you surfaces."

"Less talk."

Napoleon licked his way around Illya's belly. His hands still fit neatly around his partner's waist, but there was more softness than there used to be. It was very comfortable. He slid the hem of his t-shirt out of the way and chewed delicately.

"I like this," Napoleon murmured, "there's more of you to have now."

"Chou."[2]

Napoleon's hands massaged Illya's thighs. They stroked lightly and tickled.

" Tu veux que je te baise maintenant, n'est-ce pas? Tu es tellement transparent."[3]

Illya tried to sit up, but Napoleon remained over him.

"Yes, my dear, I do want to fuck me, but you are in too much of a rush. Don't you want me to show you how much I've missed you?" Napoleon's voice was at its most seductive pitch.

Illya smiled and lay back.

" Bien sr, mon ami. Mais, j'ai pens que tu voulais sentir mon pardon."[4] He batted his eyelashes.

"Oh, I cant wait to feel your forgiveness, tovarishch. And since you always give me what I want, I'll have the pleasure of both giving and receiving."

"Absolument."[5]

Illya dragged Napoleon's lips to his own. He sucked hungrily on the lower one. His hands caressed his partner's face. Napoleon lightly grasped Illya's wrists and freed himself.

"I believe I will do some giving first. Are you up for two this evening?"

Illya laughed and looked sly behind his lashes.

"Peut-tre."[6]

Napoleon's eyes crinkled. He lightly kissed Illya's nose and rolled him out of his plaid shirt

"Lucky me."

Illya laughed as Napoleon sucked his way down the line of his throat. The laughter soon faded into moans. Napoleon chewed down the sloping curve of his partner's strong shoulder. He left marks down a well-developed biceps and slid his lips over Illya's lightly fuzzed forearm. He captured a finger and wound his tongue around it. He sucked and teased, then moved back up to the wide palm. Napoleon laid a kiss in the center before shifting his focus to Illya's plush torso. He smiled, then tongued around his partner's deep navel. He chewed down the line of coarse hair that marked his path.

"I see I'm not the only one looking forward to this."

He mouthed Illya's impressive erection. He peeked up to see the sprawled blond looking at them in the ceiling mirror. Napoleon smiled and bent to the task at hand. He teased his partner's balls, making him cry out in pleasure.

Napoleon smiled inwardly. Noise so embarrassed his quiet partner.

"Mon Dieu..." Illya hissed.[7]

Napoleon was amazed at how turned on Illya was from simply looking at their reflections. It was a good idea that hed have to try again. He returned to playing Illya like an instrument, with his fingers and mouth. He stroked and cajoled. He found that it was his hair tickling Illyas hip that suddenly sent his panting partner over the edge. Illya arched and clutched at the spread beneath him as Napoleon drank him dry. He finally dropped, spent, back onto the bed.

"That was surprising," Napoleon teased as he nestled against Illya's chest.

"Salud."[8]

Illya suddenly realized that his eyes were closed. He forced them open and saw an incredibly smug grin staring back at him from the ceiling. Napoleon laughed and slipped from the bed.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?"[9] Illya's eyes followed him across the room.

Napoleon smiled indulgently and stepped out of his trousers and shorts. He laid them aside neatly, then moved to Illya's abused suitcase and popped it open. He quickly fished something out and tossed it onto the bed.

"You might be needing that."

Illya smiled fondly at the jar of rosewater and glycerin skin cream. Since that first time they had used it in Paris, Illya had never quite viewed it in the same way again.

"Assume the position, if you please!" Illya barked.

"Such a formal invitation. How could I refuse?"

Napoleon sashayed back to the bed and with great flourish placed himself on his knees before his smirking blond partner. Illya bounced up laughing and nestled behind Napoleon. He lightly stroked Napoleon's shoulders and kissed his neck. Napoleon shivered at the sound of the jar lid scraping open. Illya dipped his fingers in for a generous dollop and breathed across it to warm it. He draped himself over Napoleon's back and held the cream under his nose.

"Quand tu sents a, Pense-tu ^ moi?"[10]

"Illya, I think of you whether I smell this or not..."

Napoleon gasped as Illya scraped his teeth over his shoulder. His lips burned a trail down Napoleon's spine. His tongue teased between quivering cheeks.

"Dear God, Illya..." he growled.

The blond grinned and applied the warmer cream to its intended spot. His finger slipped in with little resistance. His free arm encircled Napoleon's waist, holding him close. He wiggled and flicked his finger until his partner was pleading and pushing.

"You are ready, eh? But I wont give it to you yet, I think." Illya's voice was a breeze in Napoleon's ear.

"You are making me work for it, aren't you?" he gasped.

Illya merely snickered. He added a second thick finger to the first. Napoleon sighed heavily. All of the squirming and pleading was having the desired effect on Illya. Only Napoleon could short circuit his recovery systems and get him this hard this fast.

"More, Illya... more. I'm ready to feel that forgiveness now," his voice was a low rasp.

"Comme toujours, your wish."[11]

Illya slowly slid his hands around Napoleon's hips. He settled himself carefully and took his partner with one long, slow stroke. He continued slowly until Napoleon was maddened by the slowness. The brunet clawed the spread, his whole body shaking.

"Illya...please... uhhh..."

Illya rolled his hips, changing the pace. He reached around Napoleon and grasped his partner's throbbing cock with his slick hand. He stroked at a leisurely pace, until Napoleon began to curse and sob. He then matched the rhythm of his strokes and picked up the pace. Napoleon lost control. He went wild beneath Illya, burying his face in the pillow to mask his screams. The sight of Napoleons release dragged Illya over the edge. He cried out, collapsing across Napoleon's broad back. They remained motionless for a few moments, simply breathing together. Illya finally rolled to the side, keeping Napoleon in his arms. He nuzzled his partner's neck as he caressed his dark hair. He murmured in Napoleon's ear without realizing that he was doing so.

"Mon amour. Je t'adore vraiment,"[12] his voice a breathless whisper.

Illya could feel Napoleon's heart start to beat faster against his chest. Although Napoleon did not immediately let on that he heard those words, Illya knew what he had let slip. He tried to slide away, but Napoleon reached back and prevented him. He turned and his gaze bored into the somewhat shocked blond.

"So, you love me truly. This has grown into something more than just a mutual buddy fuck, hasn't it," he said softly.

Illya frowned sourly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Illya tried hard not to look at Napoleon, but between the mirrors on the wall and those on the ceiling, it was more difficult than he would have thought.

"But I do. Look at me."

He yanked the scowling blond around until they faced one another. Napoleon stroked Illya's lip.

"Illya, my friend, I know this has gone farther than you wanted it to. It's gone farther than I expected myself, but the fact is that we are where we are. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

Illya heaved a sigh. He could feel his tension lessening slightly. Napoleon continued.

"I like our partnership where it is now. You know, you were so jealous of Mara, you almost popped a vein." Napoleon's eyes crinkled in a smile. "And to tell you the truth, I enjoyed that."

He leaned in and kissed Illya lightly. He stroked blond hair out of confused blue eyes.

"But..."

"Illya, no one will say anything. You know you'll never end up under the power of the Soviet Union after all your time with U.N.C.L.E., so you don't have anything to fear from them. Or are you afraid of something else?" Napoleon propped his chin on Illya's shoulder and waggled his eyebrows.

Illya snorted.

"I do not fear the Soviets, Napoleon."

"What is it, then?"

"Napoleon, I fear me. I fear what I want and how I am beginning to view our partnership."

"How do you view our partnership?"

"Napoleon, I find myself becoming increasingly possessive of you. I don't want to be."

"Well, now. I don't know whether to be flattered or not."

"Napoleon... I am unused to allowing myself to feel these things. It has always been too dangerous. Now you are encouraging me to continue with this insane behavior."

"I don't consider our affair insane." There was hurt in Napoleon's voice.

Illya sighed and flopped back onto the pillows. His hands waved in an effort to catch the words he wanted.

"Napoleon. I don't want to share you and I have no right to make such a claim on you. If that is not insane I do not know what is."

"Illya, that isn't insanity, that's love. You have every right to make such a claim. You've saved my life more times than I can remember, you consistently put up with my bad habits, and you just fucked me so hard I can barely speak. If not you, then who on earth does have the right?"

"This is barely being able to speak?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject."

"Illya, if it makes it any easier, I think I love you too. I care for you more deeply than anyone else and I don't want to share you either."

Illya blinked as the meaning of Napoleons words sunk in.

"Won't your newfound unavailability cause comment among the secretarial pool?"

"They already talk. And some of them are pretty good guessers."

"Then, we will be found out..." Illya's voice held an edge of fear.

"No. It's far too unbelievable for some them and far too exciting for some of the others. No, no one will say anything. And even if we should be found out, who'd begrudge us what we have, especially in our thankless jobs? We're spies, for God's sake. We ought to be able to keep a low profile."

"You are always so persuasive, Napoleon. I want to believe you, and you know I trust you but... can we just leave it like this for the moment?"

"Don't I always humor you?" His hazel eyes twinkled.

Illya dragged his dark-haired partner closer and kissed him lightly.

"As you should," Illya laughed and slipped out of bed. "I think a shower is definitely in order now. Perhaps you'd care to join me and attempt to persuade me further?"

"Just remember, Illya, Mr. Waverly expects us back in New York tomorrow night."

"Well, Napoleon, if we don't make it, I'm sure you'll think of something to say."

Napoleon eyed the blond greedily. He smiled broadly and followed his partner into the bathroom.

"Yes, I'm sure I will."

[1] You are crazy

[2] Idiot

[3] You want me to fuck you now, right? You are so transparent.

[4] Of course, my friend. But I thought you wanted to feel my forgiveness.

[5] Absolutely

[6] Maybe

[7] My God!

[8] !*&@@!

[9] What are you doing?

[10] When you smell this, do you think of me?

[11] As always.

[12] My love. I love you truly.