The Virgin Affair

by Flora

"Yes, Mr. Solo, I am aware that this is a rather distasteful assignment. Still..."

Napoleon looked at Illya, his eyes pleading, asking if Illya couldn't do something about this.

Taking sympathy on him, Illya intervened. "Sir, I am quite experienced with this sort of work. Napoleon, as far as I know, is not. Why don't I...?"

Mr. Waverly looked somewhat disgusted but explained anyway. "I'm afraid the questionable gentleman we're after does not prefer blonds. Mr. Solo, I know this is asking a lot of you but it is extremely important that we learn what THRUSH is planning with him. Or what he is planning with them, for that matter. I couldn't possibly assign one of the younger agents to such an important assignment. I am sure you will do your very best, as usual."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Back in their office, Napoleon propped his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. He hadn't expected this. It was something most agents had to experience at least once during their career. Although U.N.C.L.E. did not encourage it, offered no training and was supposed to ask for volunteers first, there were situations when it was inevitable to assign an agent to such an unpleasant duty. As CEA, Napoleon had even allocated other agents to such assignments. He had never thought much of it.

Now that it was his turn, the thought filled him with dread. He had always hoped to be spared. After all, his partner was Illya Kuryakin, trained by the KGB to compromise men. Napoleon had relied on the assumption that it would always be Illya who ended up with these questionable assignments. But this time, whether he liked it or not, he would have to face it.

But could he even go through with it? Napoleon Solo was a lover of women and a master in this field. He could not imagine himself succumbing to a man. He could not even picture himself kissing or being kissed by a man. The mere thought made him feel sick in his stomach. And to think of the consequences! Would his male identity still be intact after this? What if it wasnt? Perhaps he wouldnt be able to make love to women anymore?! His eyes widened in horror.

Illya tried to be of help. "Napoleon, if you can't enjoy it—" Like you can when it's a woman you are expected to seduce, Illya thought, "—then try to ignore it. Don't let it get close to you. Whatever he does, you just think of something different. Something pleasant like...that new receptionist, for instance. Just make sure you're relaxed. That is most important. Not all of them are gentle."

In his current state of turmoil Napoleon didn't think he could follow these directions. Besides he didn't even know what exactly was in store for him. Well, of course he knew, sort of. What he didn't know was what it would feel like, how he would react, whether he could be convincing at all. There was only one way to find out. He needed some practice. Preferably with someone he could trust.

"Illya?"

"Yes?"

"Would you have sex with me?"

Illyas jaw dropped as he stared at Napoleon like he was seeing an alien. Then he blinked and shook his head slightly as if he hadnt heard right.

"I mean, you've been trained for this and I've never been on an assignment like this before," Napoleon begged. "I need to know what's going to happen to me and what I'm supposed to do. You're the only person I can possibly ask to do this for me."

Oh no. If Illya hadn't been taught that religion was opium for the people he would have thought "Oh my god!" He was by no means averse to having sex with Napoleon; in fact, if he were given a choice he would prefer his friend to most potential bed partners. But not this way.

"Napoleon, I don't know if this is a very good idea..."

"Illya, please! I need to know what it's like. I've never even been with a man in my life before!" Napoleon squirmed in his seat as if it had suddenly got hot, his fingers drumming on the desk. He looked miserable.

Illya sighed inwardly. He could hardly refuse when asked to help his friend but he didn't like it at all. Of course he could do a professional job but with Napoleon he would prefer to do it for pure enjoyment. Still, he was not supposed to put any feelings in it, just show Napoleon the technical aspects. Maybe he would derive some momentary pleasure from the experience. And if he played his cards right, maybe Napoleon would too.

In any case, he was going to do what duty demanded, as always.

"Very well, Napoleon. I will come to your apartment tonight at around eight. Could you order some pizza as I will be starving by then?"

Surreptitiously Napoleon wiped some sweat off his forehead. He just hoped he had done the right thing.

When the door opened Illya could see that Napoleon was very, very nervous. He was trying to appear as if he had everything under control, having removed his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled his shirt sleeves up, just like he did when they met in his apartment to go over some files.

But he couldnt fool Illya. That little twitch of his eyes and the restless hands that moved in and out of his trouser pockets gave him away.

Illya tried to ease the tension by pouring himself a vodka and inspecting the pizza. "Quatro Stagioni. Not quite my favourite, but will do."

Napoleon just stared at him like a rabbit would at a snake.

Illya had the uneasy feeling that he would have to resign himself to staying hungry for a while.

He was right.

"Illya, can we get this over with first? It would really make me feel better," said Napoleon in a rather pained voice. "We can warm up the pizza later."

"Sure," Illya answered. "Shall we go to your bedroom then? Or would you prefer the couch?"

Napoleon didn't seem to have the slightest idea what Illya was talking about.

"Or would you rather I have you up against the wall?" Illya inquired, deadpan.

Napoleon winced. "Illya, this isn't funny!"

"I wasn't joking, Napoleon," Illya said. "I was merely trying to be professional."

Napoleon was shocked. "How can you possibly be professional about this! How do you get a hard-on professionally?"

Illya had to suppress a grin. He was sure Napoleon knew how to achieve that goal, as long as a woman was involved. "I had a good teacher. You can say what you want about the KGB, but in some ways the East is far ahead of the West. Wouldn't you be glad if you had my training now?"

Napoleon just stared at him with wide eyes.

"So, shall we start then?" Illya suggested.

Napoleon looked as if he was going to back away, but then he visibly composed himself. His usual nonchalance was nowhere to be seen. "Yes, I guess we should."

Illya found that he was beginning to enjoy the situation. The great Napoleon Solo—not only Number One, Section Two, but also number one seducer of U.N.C.L.E. and occasional lover of the likes of Angelique or Serena—was virtually shaking like a sixteen-year-old teenager about to be deflowered.

And he was in charge of this deflowering. He licked his lips.

On the other hand, Illya felt pity for a Napoleon who was so helpless, so afraid, so vulnerable. It was quite endearing. Illya knew he would have to be very gentle. He had never had a virgin before, not a male one anyway, and it excited him. The fact that it was Napoleon added to that excitement. He felt himself getting a little hard already. Better to get on with this before it was too late.

"Napoleon, I am going to kiss you now."

Illya didn't wait for his partner to utter his disapproval; he pulled Napoleon's head down and started licking and nibbling his lips ever so softly. Napoleon stiffened but Illya didn't let go. He pressed his lower body against Napoleon's just a little and pushed his partner gently towards the couch. When Napoleon couldn't back up any further and fell flat onto the sofa, Illya straddled his thighs. Now he had his partner exactly where he wanted him.

Napoleon's expression was one of hopeless dread. But that was not what Illya wanted. Not any more. He wanted Napoleon to enjoy it like he did. Napoleon's sensual nature had drawn him into the arms of many women, and now Illya would use this weakness to his advantage. He moved his thumb and forefinger to his partner's earlobe and while he started to massage it with little circling moves he whispered, "Napoleon, it's only me. I won't hurt you. And nobody will ever know about this little...demonstration."

Solo was confused. He had never thought that his normally deadly partner could be capable of such tenderness. He had to admit to himself that he liked the little hypnotic caresses on his earlobe. They relaxed him, easing his fears. Resolutely he reminded himself that he did not like men. But it was no good. Illya had begun pressing a trail of little kisses down his neck. They were wet and tickling and, to his dismay, Napoleon noticed that his body was responding.

Illya was having a hard time, in more ways than one. He was aware that his efforts were finally successful, but the only problem was that he was getting very aroused himself. Napoleon was unbelievably sexy as he was lying there, fearfully anticipating Illya's next move. Illya would have liked to just rip Napoleons clothes off and attack but he knew he had to progress cautiously. So he started to undo the shirt buttons one by one, forcing himself to do it very slowly. But he couldnt be bothered to take off the tie. Besides it looked so sexy on Napoleons partially bare skin.

He kissed his partner again, a little more demanding this time, trying to find his tongue while slipping his hands under Napoleon's shirt. When he found the nipples and rubbed them gently, his friend arched off the couch a little, as if he was trying to press his body closer to Illya's.

Napoleon couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was being seduced masterfully by a man. By his partner, at that, who had many skills but he could have sworn seduction was not one of them. And he, who had firmly believed himself to be the most heterosexual man that existed, was slowly melting under the soft assaults. He had to admit that it felt good for once not having to be in charge but being dominated and...handled, very skillfully at that. This thought made his cock jerk. While it still felt a little awkward, Napoleon decided that if he had to do this he might as well try to enjoy himself. And eventually that didn't seem such a difficult thing to do.

Illya's tongue was deep in his mouth. Hesitantly he stroked his tongue against Illya's. That elicited a little groan and his tongue was sucked in by a pair of impatient lips. There was suddenly a hand fumbling with the button of his trousers. That was a good thing because they were getting tighter by the second. When the zipper was pulled down as well, Napoleon lifted his ass to make Illyas task easier. Finally his cock was freed from the restraint of clothing.

Illya broke the kiss. He could hardly breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his current experiment in the U.N.C.L.E. lab—the one with the nasty strain of rapidly multiplying bacteria—while trying to control his panting breaths. When he had a grip on his lust again, or so he hoped, he asked huskily, "Napoleon, may I touch you now?"

Napoleon half opened his eyes and breathed, "Yes, Illya, please do."

Slowly Illya slid his hand down Napoleon's body and took his cock in a gentle but confident grasp.

Napoleon gasped and threw his head back while his hips moved upward and he tried to thrust into Illya's hand. Illya started to work that beautiful shaft slowly, soon being cheered on by Napoleon's rhythmic moans. He hadn't expected his partner to be so vocal in his pleasure, but it turned him on immensely. Those hoarse breaths sounded so wild, so uncontrolled...but Illya was in control and he would make sure they didnt stop.

Napoleon was lost to the world. That hand gliding up and down his cock mesmerized him. He could hear himself moaning and he didn't mind at all. It was so good. It was...ahhh...Napoleon thrust faster and that wonderful hand gripped him firmly and sped up too.

His moans turned into a series of rapid whimpers until he stiffened and cried out and felt himself shoot.

When he came to, still panting madly, Illya was looking down at him with a little smile.

Illya was pleased to see that Napoleon had obviously had a good time. But now his own erection was throbbing urgently. He opened his pants and freed his cock, taking it in his own hands.

Napoleon shook his head. "Illya, no! Please let me..." He reached out and slowly encircled Illya's cock with his hand.

Illya realized that this must be quite an effort. Napoleon would do this for nobody else but him and it turned him on even more. Although it was easy to tell that Napoleon had never touched another man before, it took only a few strokes. Illya bit his lower lip and sighed and let it flow.

He was lying on top of Napoleon, somehow glued to him, not wanting to ever get up again. But surely Napoleon would want him to get off of him sooner or later. He stood, hesitated, then started to tidy up his clothing. He was extremely conscious of the hazel eyes fixing on him.

"Illya, that was, ah, really good."

"Thank you. Glad I could be of help."

Napoleon looked at him thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to look like a beginner on that assignment. Maybe I should get some more lessons."

Illya smiled slightly and lowered his gaze. "Yes, in our profession it is always advisable to be thorough with preparations. Would you mind, though, if I had some pizza before we start lesson two? This particular activity always makes me hungry."

Napoleon gave a snorting laugh. "I don't think I've seen any activity yet that doesn't! Okay, you warm up the pizza, I'll take a quick shower."

Illya had always found it rather strange that Americans took showers all the time, even when they knew there would be more messy sex to follow, but after several years in this country he had become somewhat assimilated. It would be more enjoyable if Napoleon participated a little more in the "activities" during lesson two. Maybe it would be easier for him if Illya was nice and clean and smelling of his partner's expensive soap.

When he pondered on what he could teach Napoleon next, he felt a stirring in his pants.

"That sounds like a good idea. Mind if I join you?"

Napoleon looked at him warily but then decided to trust his instructor and waved an inviting hand towards the bathroom.

Illya behaved while they were showering. He did not touch Napoleon, although it was extremely tempting. However, he made sure that he was standing right in front of his partner, back towards him, when he bent down to soap his legs.

Napoleon couldn't look away from the sight. This could not be true! It was ridiculous! He couldn't believe that he would be aroused by a pair of tight male cheeks displayed shamelessly right in front of him. And if he looked really hard, he could even spot the opening that seemed to be inviting him. No. No way. This was where Napoleon's imagination blocked further speculation. Fucking or being fucked by a man was just not acceptable.

If the sight fascinated him just a little, it was only because he was being professional about the whole thing. After all he was expected to seduce a man, and he had never done that before, so he had to learn all there was about it. Didn't he?

"Tell me, Illya," Napoleon said over the pizza, as they both sat at the table, dressed only in bathrobes. "You don't really like this kind of assignment, do you?"

"It is not always what I desire, but it must be like that for you, too. The only difference is that you seduce women and I seduce men. I am not unhappy about that little detail, if that is what you really want to know."

"But I thought that in the Soviet Union all homosexuals were shot in the head and dumped somewhere..."

"That is essentially true, but we KGB operatives with special missions were favoured with a certain leniency."

"But do you really..." Napoleon paused, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I mean, have you always liked men?"

Illya sighed, a little annoyed by the question. "When I was trained to do this, I was very young. And I guess then I did it for mother Russia. But, when I got older and was able to reflect on my own actions I found that I didn't regret anything. So, yes, it would seem that I always have."

Napoleon looked thoughtful. "What do you like about men?" he asked quietly, almost shyly.

Illya suddenly grew very fond of Napoleon again. "What can I tell you, Napoleon? You wouldn't understand."

"But I..." Napoleon frowned, disappointed. "I want to understand."

Illya tried to come up with an answer for him. He licked a few crumbs of pizza from his lips. "Let me put it this way: a man knows what a man wants." And maybe sometime during lesson two, I will be able to show you what I want.

Napoleon had been watching the tip of Illyas tongue moving between his lips with great fascination, so it took him some time to realize what his partner had just said. Could there be some truth in that? Inexperienced women did not know what he wanted. Experienced women did not always know either. Napoleon had enjoyed teaching them, most of the time anyway. But the thought of having someone who would not need any teaching at all but would know—and do?—exactly what Napoleon wanted was intriguing.

Could Illya be that person?

Napoleon needed a drink. So he went to get himself a shot or two of Scotch and, for Illya, one hundred grams of vodka. His partner had told him once that in Russia drinks weren't measured but weighed, and Napoleon had gone to the effort of learning this particular Russian custom for his friend.

"I hope it's cold enough for you. I didn't put that new bottle into the fridge until just before eight."

"Well," said Illya innocently, "we can easily find out." With that he dipped his index finger in the vodka. He then put it in his mouth and started licking and sucking it.

Napoleon tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. In his mind, he saw his partner licking and sucking something different...

"It's just the right temperature," said Illya in a smoky-sounding voice. "Want to taste yourself?" A wet forefinger was laid softly on Napoleon's lips.

It was amazing. The touch of that finger immediately sent an electric current through his already interested cock. He opened his mouth and sucked the finger in, wrapping his tongue around it. He was, after all, the great seducer and he did not want Illya to get all the credit for this evening that was, he had to admit, turning out to be very pleasant.

Illya looked at him with a smug little smile and intense blue eyes. "I think you're ready for lesson two." He went around the table and pulled an unresisting Napoleon to his feet.

Napoleon was ready indeed. He was still wondering how this could have happened. Did he find Illya attractive? He was good-looking, no doubt, but still to be aroused that much by another man was puzzling. Maybe his subconscious had always wanted this and he had just refused to admit it? Whatever it was, he was sure that he wanted Illya. And he wanted him now!

He mustered up all his courage and slowly pulled open the bathrobe Illya had borrowed from him after the shower. Then he hesitatingly put his arms around Illya's waist. It felt good. Nothing soft there, not at all like his many female conquests: just firm muscle and, as he pulled Illya closer, an unmistakable erection. Napoleon gasped. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before. The mere idea that Illya was so aroused by him ignited Napoleon's lust to a degree he'd never thought possible with another man. He started to push Illya towards his bedroom none too gently. He was so eager that he missed Illya's delighted smile.

This time it was Illya's turn to land flat on his back. His robe was wide open and he pulled his arms out of the sleeves to have freedom of movement. Napoleon looked at his naked body longingly before he let his own robe slide to the ground.

The next thing Illya knew, Napoleon was lying on top of him and they were kissing. Napoleon's tongue licked and teased Illya's, more eager and ready than before. Illya gasped and writhed. It felt so good. The hardness and heat and Napoleon's scent enveloping him...he had to fight himself from coming then and there. Too impatient, he admonished himself. He was supposed to be the instructor and—he allowed himself a moan or two—the lesson had to come first. With considerable effort, he flipped his partner over and knelt beside him. Napoleon had that shy look in his eyes again, the one that made Illyas heart overflow with tenderness. He started to shower Napoleon with little kisses all the way down his body.

Would Illya really know what he wanted? Napoleon couldn't stop himself from thinking about the moment Illya had sucked his finger, tasting the vodka. He desperately wished Illya would do the same thing to him. He looked at him, pleadingly.

Illyas eyes were sparkling. He licked his lips, then moved down Napoleon's body until his mouth was just above the throbbing erection.

Suddenly Napoleon felt the tip of Illya's tongue licking the underside of his cock and then the tiny slit on top. He nearly jumped off the bed. And then lips closed around him and a hot mouth started to suck him and it was just too much. He was sure he couldn't stand it but the mouth was inexorable as it enveloped him.

"Oh yes, Illya, please..."

He heard himself cry out, an inarticulate sound of pure pleasure, and the suction became even stronger. He couldn't hold back anymore. Vaguely he was aware of Illya swallowing, accepting all he had to give. He moaned one last time, looking at Illya through half closed lids.

Illya was very pleased at his success. Napoleon looked so abandoned and debauched lying beneath him. But what was he to do with his own pulsing erection. It was hard being the instructor, wasn't it? Maybe he should take things in his own hands this time. But then he noticed Napoleon's eyes wandering to his penis.

"What can I do for you?" Napoleon murmured. "What would you like?"

"What would I like? I would like to..." Suddenly he shook his head, as if coming to his senses. "No, never mind."

But Napoleon already knew. And in the afterglow of sex, he felt generous to the point of recklessness. "I...I've enjoyed everything we've done so far. I know there's more to be experienced. I think I should give it a try." He lifted one knee up, opening himself up a little to Illya's gaze.

Was this really a good idea? Shouldn't he teach Napoleon to just suck him off? Illya knew that in his state of arousal it wouldn't take long or require a lot of skill. And he was not sure if he could handle a virgin in this state. On the other hand, he had brought the lubricant just in case.

If the assignment turned out to be a little nasty, it would help that Napoleon had had a good experience the first time. And Illya would make sure it would be good.

Napoleon looked up at him trustingly with big hazel eyes.

Illya melted. He stumbled to his feet. Where was the lube? In his trouser pocket. But where were his trousers? Maybe in the bathroom. On his way there, he tried to breathe deeply. His mind was a little hazy as his cock still pointed at the ceiling.

Breathe in...breathe out!

He wanted Napoleon so much.

In...out!

Yes, he could do this for Napoleon. He just had to.

Illya approached the bed with a little tube in his hand. Napoleon knew what it was. He was not sure he had done the right thing telling Illya to...fuck him. But he wouldn't back away now.

Illya kissed him, his tongue just briefly tickling his lips. Then Illya flipped him over so he was lying face down. Strong hands started to stroke his back and then moved to his cheeks. A pillow was put under his groin and he found that he was quite comfortable. So he waited for what was to come.

It wouldn't be easy but Illya was determined to give Napoleon a good experience. He stroked his partner's butt firmly as if he was massaging it, hoping that Napoleon would relax. All the while he could feel how tense Napoleon was, though. He decided not to push it. Napoleon clearly was not ready for this.

"Napoleon, I think we should stop."

Napoleon felt relieved. Illya had read his mind and knew how uneasy he was about being penetrated. Now he wouldn't have to...and he was glad about that. On the other hand, shying away from whatever grim task lay before him was not his style. Illya had been very gentle with him and would not deliberately hurt him. And he had enjoyed himself so far, hadn't he?

"No, Illya, please. I need to know this. I want to know everything."

Illya bent down, his warm breath tickling Napoleon's ear, "I'll make it good for you."

Napoleon exhaled sharply as something soft and cool touched his anus. He realised that Illya was preparing him with a finger covered with lubricant. He tried to relax and apparently succeeded as the finger was removed and replaced by something considerably bigger.

It felt odd. It burned but didn't quite hurt. It wasn't really pleasurable either.

After Illya had entered Napoleon he tried to hold still for a minute or so, so that Napoleon could adjust to him. That was easier said than done, though. Drops of sweat started running down his face from the effort of not thrusting. His cock was twitching like mad.

Napoleon could feel Illya shaking and heard him breathing hard as if it was a terrible effort to just be inside him. Napoleon realised that Illya was giving him time to get used to being penetrated. He was grateful for that. He relaxed a little more.

Illya couldnt stand it any longer. He started moving inside Napoleon very slowly, trying to locate his partners prostate.

Napoleon felt the penis inside him, moving in and out. The whole thing still wasnt really agreeable though. He was about to resign himself to endure the act when Illyas cock suddenly touched something inside him. He took in a hissing breath as if he were in pain.

Anxiously Illya pulled back and asked, "Am I hurting you?"

The answer was somewhat delayed. "No...no, dont stop."

Illya smiled. He had obviously found what he was searching for.

He thrust again slowly.

Again Napoleon gasped.

Illya concentrated on stroking Napoleons prostate frequently with his thrusts. His instructor of years ago had taught him to be a good lover who takes care of his bed partners needs as well as his own.

Napoleon's own cock, which had been resting comfortably on the pillow, stirred again. It was unusual, it was exotic and an hour ago Napoleon would not have believed he would ever let that happen to him but...he had to admit it was overwhelming.

And Illya managed to hit whatever that was inside him with most of his slow thrusts. Napoleon decided to give up rational thinking.

Concentrating on Napoleons pleasure and holding himself back enhanced Illyas own sensuality immensely. With the feeling so intense, he knew he couldnt last any longer. It took only a few more slightly harder thrusts and, with his panting breaths turning into whimpers, he climaxed hard. It felt endless as he shot his semen into his lovers passage.

Napoleons prostate had been touched one last time—if a bit roughly—and now he heard Illya making these ecstatic little noises and felt himself being filled with hot liquid. That was enough to take him over the top again. It was so good. Not quite earth-shattering this time but incredible all the same. And Illya seemed to agree for as soon as his sweat-covered body had collapsed on top of him, Napoleon felt lips on his shoulder, then the back of his neck, his ear, his hair...

And then Illya rolled off of him and started to get up. Napoleon grabbed his wrist just in time to prevent him from actually leaving the bed. This was certainly not the way to end such an evening.

"Illya?"

Illya tensed. "Yes?"

"I would like you to stay overnight. Please?"

Illyas face was unreadable but his eyes were sparkling. His lips were curved in the slightest smile.

One week later:

"So, Napoleon, how did your assignment go?"

"Oh, piece of cake. A little kissing and cuddling and he was ready to tell me all I wanted to know. I didn't really have to do anything."

"You sound almost disappointed!"

"Yes, well, I didn't get half a chance to apply my newly acquired skills."

Illya took a sip of his coffee. "In that case..." He licked a drop of coffee off his lower lip. "Maybe you would like to tell me all about it over a pizza tonight?"

Napoleon looked at his friends moist lips and answered, "Yes, I think I would. Theres nothing like a good talk between partners, is there?"