Illya was chained to a brick wall with his hands above his head. He was shirtless, shoeless and his black trousers barely covered him, as they'd been sliced to shreds.
Canting his head to one side, as he listened to a steady 'click-click-click-click." Footsteps and they were coming closer.
He could see nothing as a black cloth had been tied to cover his eyes, yet if he tilted his head back just enough, he could steal a glimpse from beneath the bottom of the blindfold.
At last he saw a shapely figure silhouetted by the lights suspended from the ceiling. She stepped under one; her straight dark hair highlighted with shades of red.
She slowly moved closer; the 'click-click-click-click,' echoing off the stone walls and floor. Stopping directly in front of the UNCLE agent; she reached up, slipping away the blindfold.
Illya blinked several times until his vision focused.
What he saw was a shapely woman clothed in a tight black leather bustier that pushed her voluptuous breasts upwards into view; she wore a pair of skimpy black lace panties, and a pair of thigh high black stiletto boots.
"So are you ready for me?" Her dark red lips pouted as she spoke.
"Do your worst," Illya whispered.
"Oh I plan to."
She reached out with a black gloved hand; in it was a single long stem red rose, and she slowly brushed its velvety petals against the oh-so-pale Russian's chest.
Without warning, one of the needle sharp thorns pricked him, and a thin line of blood began trickle down his skin.
Kuryakin inhaled with a hiss but said nothing.
She leaned forward, taking her time running the very tip of her tongue along his breast, tasting the blood mixed with the saltiness of his perspiration.
"Mmmmm." Her hand drifted downwards and reaching her goal; she gently touched him with her fingertips; pleased at what she felt.
"Oh, I think you're happy to see me." She began stroking him until his excitement 'grew' and teased him with her body, rubbing against him.
"Oh enough of this!" Illya barked impatiently.
He let the chains fall, with a jangling thud to the floor and forcefully grabbing her and; the blond agent pulled her lips to his and he kissed her hard.
In one swift motion he swept her up into his arms; the rose falling to the floor amongst his abandoned chains. He wordlessly carried her upstairs from the darkness to her awaiting boudoir.
The canopy above her bed was draped in rich burgundy velvet curtains, and mauve satin pillows were strewn everywhere. Suspended from the ceiling was a large Moroccan mosaic lantern with red glass casting its hue throughout the entire room and dozens of lit cantles made the shadows dance.
"Zarya, no more games, da?" Illya said as he lowered himself to her waiting body on the black satin sheets.
"No, no more games, still it was a fun idea for Valentine's day wasn't it?" She whispered as he caressed her throat with his lips.
He rolled his eyes, though she didn't see it as they intertwined themselves on the inviting black silk sheets.
"I have been wrapped in chains and tortured for real, so I am sorry it is not my idea of fun."
"Then why did you agree to it Illya?" She flashed him a puppy dog look.
"Because it was what you wanted."
"You did it for me? Wow."
"Yes I did, however, this is what I call fun my dear," the Russian whispered back to her. He removed her black accoutrements, except for the boots, and slipped from the remnants of his trousers.
Illya moaned, feeling her beautiful body close to his. She was amazed he knew how to move against her and just the right way to touch her with his hands and lips.
He gently surged into her, and it was a perfect moment.
Zarya smiled, falling into rhythm with her amorous Russian as they made love into the night.
.
* A/N: Zarya is Russian for Dawn