First Time

by Nataliya

It was cold in the room. Bone-chilling. Illya, therefore, wasn't surprised when Napoleon cozied up to him from behind, wrapping his arms around him. Basic survival tactics. The Russian relaxed in the embrace and the two of them soaked up each other's warmth.

Illya was almost asleep when he felt a nuzzle at the nape of his neck.

"Napoleon."

"Mmmmm?" Napoleon said, close to Illya's ear.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"I'm, ah, nuzzling."

Illya turned his head halfway. "Do you think that's appropriate?"

"It was an impulse," Napoleon said, nuzzling some more. "I wondered how you would feel."

Illya turned his face away again. "And your conclusion?"

Napoleon sighed and squeezed him a little tighter. "Familiar, comfortable. And yet...stimulating."

The last adjective was confirmed by a pressure against Illya's ass.

"Napoleon, is that what I think it is?"

"Guilty."

Much to Napoleon's disappointment, Illya turned in his arms to face him. "If we do this, we'll be playing with fire."

Napoleon looked at Illya with cautious surprise. "Do you mean you're game?"

"I'm simply exploring the notion," Illya said with his own brand of caution. "I'm not ready to tear off your clothes."

That image made Napoleon slightly giddy so he covered with a joke. "I'm not ready for that either," he said, fingering his pajama top. "These are imported Turkish cotton."

Illya ignored the comment, pursuing his own concerns. "If we were to follow through with this impulse of yours, we'd be bi-sexuals. Could you live with that?"

"We'd still be a heterosexuals," Napoleon said, disagreeing. "We'd simply have partner-sexual tendencies."

Illya had to smile. "Has Kinsey heard of that orientation?"

"He's behind the curve," Napoleon said, growing bolder and drawing his partner closer to him.

The two of them stared into each other's eyes, then dropped their gazes to each other's mouths.

"Are we going to kiss?" Illya asked.

"Why not?" Napoleon answered. He didn't advance but waited for Illya's lips to come to his. When they did they were soft, tender, testing. Napoleon was thrilled but tried to hide the fact. "So, what do you think?" Napoleon whispered when the experiment was complete.

"Not bad," Illya whispered back.

"Not bad?" Napoleon's eyes narrowed. "Let me show you how it's done, comrade." He put one hand on the small of Illya's back, the other on the back of his head. One was gentle and coaxing, the other was rough as it gathered a fistful of blond hair. His mouth laid claim to Illya's and did its best to set him on fire. He pulled Illya's groin into his and found that he'd succeeded.

"Your reputation...doesn't do you justice," Illya said, breathless, when Napoleon finally broke the kiss.

Napoleon smiled, satisfied. "I don't care about my reputation, as long as you enjoy what I do to you."

Illya moved in for another kiss. "What we do together," he corrected.

A dozen more kisses brought a climax to their evening, followed by a second act, followed by a drink, a doze, and an encore in the morning.

Illya lay in bed on his back, talking loudly to Napoleon who was shaving in the bathroom. "That partner-sexual thing was clever."

"Did you like that?" Napoleon called. "I thought of it during the credit union meeting the other day."

"Ahh," Illya said, "you were fantasizing about me when you were supposed to be paying attention. No wonder your finances are such a mess."

"I was thinking about you wearing your shoulder holster," Napoleon said as he turned off the water. "And nothing else."

Illya examined Napoleon's watch as he lay in bed, toying with the idea of setting it half an hour ahead. "Next time we make love for the first time, it's my turn to spoon you."

"Fine with me," Napoleon said a few moments later as he came out of the bathroom and plucked his watch from Illya's hands. "Better put your thinking cap on and come up with a novel approach for why it's necessary."

Illya strolled into the bathroom to take his turn. "I suppose you think that turning the thermostat down to freezing is novel. A rather tired tactic, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Napoleon said, buttoning his shirt. "And it's not tired, it's classic."

"Classic can be boring."

Napoleon stepped into the bathroom and squeezed his partner tight from behind. "Don't you know, Illya," he said, watching his partner's face in the mirror, "that true love can never be boring?"

Illya looked back at him. "Then I am prepared to be fascinated for the next fifty years."

Napoleon kissed Illya's neck on a spot that was free of shave cream, then let his right hand wander down the front of his partner's bathrobe to massage what was under it. He was beginning to get a reaction when he suddenly jerked his left wrist around. "Is that the time? I've gotta run."

Napoleon hurried out the door and Illya stood abandoned, squinting at himself in the mirror. "Brilliant, Kuryakin."