Hot Tropic Valentine

by Spikesgirl58

Waking from a nightmare, Napoleon discovers that Le Vent du Diable has come to call and with it, visitors. Written as part of the 2018 Valentine's Day Challenge. Part of the Hot Tropical Nights series Warning - slash

"NO, MOM, PLEASE! LET ME OUT!" He pounded against the wood of his bedroom door, but to no avail.

"YOU ARE STAYING RIGHT THERE. SHE IS A FILTHY GIRL."

"SHE'S A NICE GIRL!" He rattled the doorknob in a vain hope that it would open.

"SHE'S A SLUT! WHO ELSE WOULD GO OUT WITH YOU?"

"IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S JUST A DANCE!"

"YOU DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS THERE?"

He pounded against the door, hoping that one of the neighbors would hear and report them. That would bring the police and that would bring his freedom.

He ran to the window, but it was nailed shut. Outside the glass, the city traffic thrummed, masking the sound of his shouts.

Then there was the sound of the door being unlocked. "Is this the one giving you trouble, sweetheart?'

"Yes, beat the filth out of him!"

"NO!" Napoleon jammed a chair under the doorknob and ran to the window. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed a baseball bat and slammed it against the glass. It shattered with a horrible sound, or perhaps that was the sound of the chair breaking.

With another cry, he climbed out the window into the night, ignorant of the blood he was leaving behind. All he knew is that he would not be beaten, not again.

The wind slapped his face as he climbed out onto the fire escape. Up here it howled and wailed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure entering, tripping over the broken bits of chair and Napoleon started down the fire escape, slipping and sliding, then falling…

Napoleon opened his eyes as he sat up. The traffic noises pounded in his head… no, not traffic, waves. It took another second before he realized the difference. He was in Tahiti and he was safe. His mother had been dead for years. He was a successful writer. He was a good man. He was free of her.

Napoleon looked over at the man asleep beside him and drew a shaky breath. Not just any man, but Illya. His Illya. As if knowing he was being studied, Illya rolled over, taking most of the sheet with him and Napoleon shivered, although granted it was not just from being chilled, but rather shaking off the last bits of the dream.

He'd not had a nightmare about his mother in months. What had triggered it? He looked around their bedroom as he played back the night in his head. Illya had come home from the hotel, tired and grumpy. Napoleon had done his best to cheer the man up, but he was having none of it. Illya was not happy to be stuck on Rangiroa, not for the holidays. The Russian's heart was in Papeete, not Rangi.

As Napoleon sat there, he noticed that the mosquito netting around the bed was billowing and dancing in the wind. Outside, it was blowing the dry palm leaves so that it sounded like rainfall, but there was another sound, almost like a cry. He'd never heard it blow that hard. That must have been what triggered his dream

Curious, he untucked the netting from his side and climbed out. Mosquitos didn't bother him as a rule, except for the noise they made. The high-pitched buzzing made him crazy, hence the use of the netting.

Again he shivered and paused to pull on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. It was his standard dress now. He smiled slightly at that. There had been a time when he'd refused to be seen in anything but a three-piece suit and polished shoes. Now he wasn't even really sure where his shoes were.

There was quite a bit of wind inside the room, which was odd for this time of the night and he paused to shut the window. The netting settled and the room quieted.

Napoleon walked through the house he shared with Illya, the hardwood floor cool against the soles of his feet. It was odd how differently someplace looked in the night. Familiar objects disappeared into the shadows, but he knew this room like the back of his hand. He opened the back door and looked out into the lagoon.

The waves crashing ashore startled him. He was used to the pounding surf from the outer banks, but not from the lagoon. He'd never seen the waves as angry as they were tonight. Napoleon looked up at the sky and was amazed at how fast the clouds were moving by the waning moon. Daylight was coming soon and the horizon was tinged an angry grey green.

"Trouble?" The voice was as warm as the arm that encircled his waist. Napoleon looked over his shoulder.

"The wind. And look at the sky."

"Le Vent du Diable," Illya said. "Usually we are in Tahiti for them. Another reason why I don't like being here during January."

That was true. This had been the first time they had spent January here. Usually they stayed the month with Illya's family in Papeete, but renovations to the hotel demanded that someone with authority stay on site. Since Illya was the owner, he was stuck. For Napoleon's part, he didn't care where they were as long as they were together. Illya, on the other hand, was not pleased.

"Will we be okay here?" Napoleon leaned back into Illya's embrace.

"This house has held up for years. It was especially made to withstand the storms and the winds. Others won't be as lucky."

That bothered Napoleon. "What will they do?"

"Lay low with relatives and then rebuild. Have you ever wondered why everything here looks like it was put together as an afterthought? It's the constant rebuilding."

"That's terrible. Why don't they leave?"

"Rangi is home. We are trying to reforest the island and make it more of a natural windbreak, but Nature doesn't want to cooperate. The palm trees don't help much. What we need are some ironwood trees."

Illya nuzzled the nape of Napoleon's neck, eliciting a sigh from him, but it didn't stop him from asking, "Ironwood?"

Illya moved down to Napoleon's shoulder. "They use them in Hawaii as windbreaks. They are strong and in fact were once used for masts on ships, hence the name. Nothing could break them. They were planted all over the Hawaiian Islands so that when ships damaged in storms came in, there was wood to repair them."

"And we don't have any because?"

"The same story as always. What little money Rangi has, they plow into tourism." Illya pulled away then. "And as much as I'd love to throw you to the ground and have my way with you, we need to get the place ready. I thought we'd have at least another week."

Napoleon shivered again, but this time it was from the loss of his lover's warmth. "What do we need to do?"

"You start bringing things in from the yard. Anything light we will need to pack away or it will end up out at sea. I'm going to start in the front."

Napoleon found his flip flops by the back mat and slipped them on. Away from the house, the wind seemed warmer and it fought, almost playfully, with him as he tried to drag a lawn chair from its grasp. "No, this is mine," he muttered and wrestled it free. He folded it and its neighbor, then carried them to the porch. Something on the walk caught his eye. It was about the size of a rat and wiggling. For a moment, Napoleon was frozen in place, then he recognized it for what it was. "ILLYA!" he shouted and ran into the house.

Illya appeared almost immediately, his face concerned. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Napoleon grabbed his hand and dragged him out. Now there were two squirming forms.

"What?" Illya knelt. "Kittens?"

"They just showed up."

"That's impossible. We don't have any cats on Rangi." He stopped as a skinny bedraggled cat appeared, carrying another squirming form in her mouth. She set the kitten down and looked warily at the pair of men. "Hello, Mum, what have you?" The cat set the kitten down and slunk away. "What do we do now?" Illya asked.

"Well, let's get these little ones into a box with some towels. We leave it where their mom can find it. Hopefully we can get them inside before the winds really hit. Stay here!" Napoleon ran into their cottage and looked around. He hurriedly dumped out the box of his latest book onto the floor and went to the shelves where they kept their linen. He picked out two worn towels and lined the box with them.

"Hurry, Napoleon!"

"I am," he shouted back. He grabbed a knife and cut down one side of the box and carried it outside.

"I see you used only my towels."

"Well, they are the oldest." He picked up the tiny bodies and placed them carefully into the box. He set the box aside and took Illya's hand. They retreated a few steps and waited.

Almost immediately the mother cat appeared with a fourth kitten and hesitated only a moment before carrying it into the box and settling down with her little family, cleaning them.

"What do you think?" Illya rose from his crouch.

"It's now or never and I bet she knows that." Together they carried the box into their small living room and set it in a corner. The mother cat seemed to ignore everything except her nursing kittens.

"Help me with the shutters," Illya said. For the next few minutes, it was a mad dash against the wind to shut and secure the shuttles, but finally the little house was secure.

Outside the wind began to moan, a curious aspect that had led to its name, The Devil's Wind. It was said to be the cries of all the people drowned in the seas.

"Now you know why I don't have any tall trees around this place. These winds will snap them like toothpicks. The lower trees are more protection." Illya stared at the ceiling as if able to look through it to the sky above.

"Will the hotel be okay?"

"It's designed to withstand the winds, but I don't think any tourists would be very happy. It's a good thing we are empty." He wiped his hands on his shirt. "I'm going to go check the generator. We'll be losing power soon. I think there are some candles in that drawer in the meantime." As if to emphasize that, the lights flickered. "What about our guests?"

"She looked pretty thin. I bet she'd love something to eat."

"I have some canned fish in the pantry for emergencies. I guess this qualifies."

Napoleon found a tin of tuna and used the can opener to get it opened. He drained the oil from the can, then tipped the contents onto a plate, all the while making a face. "I can't believe you ate this stuff."

"Well, let's just say before you waltzed into my life, food and I were merely passing acquaintances. I didn't much care what I ate as long as it was fast and easy, like me. You've ruined me, Solo." Illya reappeared and patted his flat stomach.

"The last thing you are is fast and easy, Illya. However, we are even for you certainly ruined me. I was such a wholesome and innocent thing before you."

Illya laughed at that and watched as Napoleon carried it to the box and set it inside. It took the mother cat only a few seconds to identify it and quickly she began eating it.

"You better open another can." Illya watched the kittens with amazement. "They're so small."

"I will in a little bit. Her stomach will only be able to handle so much food at first. Napoleon set down a sauce of water close to the dish and she sniffed at it momentarily before returning to the plate.

"Why water?"

"My vet told me that milk was bad for cats."

"You've owned cats before, I take it?" Illya abandoned the box for the couch.

"I did, but she lives with Maisy now. Those two were made for each other." He sighed happily, then he snapped his fingers. He returned a few minutes later with a cake pan filled with torn newspaper. At Illya's cocked eyebrow, he answered. "When you gotta go, you gotta go. We can buy a proper cat litter tray later."

"So I take it we are keeping them?"

"Can we? Please?" Napoleon's voice was so hopeful that it was all Illya could do not to burst out laughing.

"If it's what you want, then of course. I don't know if there are any vets here, though."

"Then we'll take them to Tahiti if we have to." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'll pay for it. I can afford it"

"It's okay, Napoleon. It's not like I don't have money… or a plane. We will have to sit tight until the winds are over. Until then, let me make some inquiries." Illya paused then. "You really want to keep them?"

"Well maybe not all of them." Napoleon's eyes grew misty, remembering his cat and how sweet she was when Maisy first plopped the kitten down on his stomach. She announced that it was time for Napoleon to stop living alone. It had been love at first sight.

The cat finished the tuna, took a few licks of water, looked up and the men and burped. They laughed and she settled beside her kittens, cleaning the closest one as if started to nurse.

"Nothing to fear now, little one," Napoleon said softly. "You and your new family are safe." The winds outside surged and the house cracked, but held firm. Napoleon looked up at the ceiling and Illya reached out to rest a hand on his arm.

"We are all safe. Come to me." Illya tugged him, almost reluctantly, away from the box and to the bed. He drew Napoleon down to the bed and onto him, kissing the worried brow. "I promise."

"Well, as long as you promise." Napoleon stretched out on top on Illya, relishing the feeling of the warm body in his arms. Passion replaced concern and they followed the path to an age-old dance. Napoleon never tired of feeling the excitement he elicited from Illya. He reached between them and found Illya's penis, rock hard and ready for him. It wasn't often that he took the role of the aggressor in their lovemaking, but today, right now, he wanted it.

His lips worked their way down Illya's body, pausing to lick a nipple or nip a bit of skin. Illya moaned, obviously enjoying the attention. As Napoleon's mouth drew closer to his penis, he bucked up, urging Napoleon to take him, but Napoleon veered off at the last minute.

At the groan of protest, Napoleon smiled. "I thought you were the one who told me to be patient."

"How can I be patient at a time like this?" Preseminal fluid oozed out of the tip of his penis, making it look like it was drooling.

Napoleon rolled off him and reached for the nightstand. In the top drawer was a well-used tube of lube. He held it up and squirted some onto two of his fingers. He held them up and asked, "May I?"

Illya's expression grew soft and he whispered. "Yes, please."

Napoleon moved lower down onto the bed, his mouth again attack the soft skin. He blew into the curly pubic hair and then let his tongue travel up the side of Illya's penis, licking the fluid from it. "You taste good."

With his tongue and lips, he began to caress just the glans, smiling at the response it drew. He settled one hand, open palm, on Illya's stomach, the other snaked its way around until two coated fingers found and pierced Illya. As he did that, Napoleon took Illya firmly and deeply into his mouth.

Illya cried out and Napoleon added a third finger, pumping in and out. Napoleon brought him to the brink of climax, then pulled back, ignoring the whimpers.

"Up" he commanded and Illya obediently rolled over and lifted his ass into the air. Without preamble, Napoleon plunged home, drawing a cry from both of them. He pounded into Illya, the slapping of flesh against flesh the only sound in his ears. When he knew he was close, he grabbed Illya's penis and began pumping it.

With a cry of triumph, he ejaculated into Illya, head tipped back in post climax joy. His hand grew sticky and he knew that Illya had joined him.

He withdrew with a sigh and collapsed on the bed, pulling Illya to him. "Good."

"You have no idea." Illya looked sleepy now and Napoleon knew it was only the matter of a few minutes that sleep would overtake both of them again. Wrapped in their cocoon of love, they slept and let the world take care of itself for a few hours more.

"I don't understand why we need to do this. When I was growing up, we just fed them scraps." Illya picked up a can of cat food and winced. "So expensive."

"Stop complaining and go find the cat litter." Napoleon placed several cans into his wobbly-wheeled grocery cart. LeSungs was the only market on their end of the island. "You know, you say there are no cats on the island, but if there weren't, why would he have such a selection?"

"What you mean, bra?" Filo was a heavy set, good natured cousin. It seemed like everyone on the island was a good natured cousin. "We got tons of 'em. Keeps the rats out."

"Illya said there were no cats here."

"It's just 'cause he don't like 'em and they don't like him." Filo looked at the cart. "You changing that?"

Napoleon grinned. "Well, me and five houseguests." He glanced over to where Illya was standing, a look of dismay on his face. He left the cart where it was and joined his lover two rows over. "Illya, what's wrong? You look as if you've lost your best friend"

"Nonsense. You are right there." Illya picked up a bar of mass produced chocolate. "I wish we could get some better chocolate here. I miss the stuff we used to get in France. You used to be able to find it in Papeete, but not even there these days." He made a face and put the chocolate back.

"Come on, let get this taken care of and I'll make you something special for lunch."

Illya nodded, but Napoleon could see the misty longing in the man's eyes. He made a mental note to give Maisy a call as soon as he could.

The weeks tripped by and Napoleon was delighted to watch the kittens turn from small balls of mewing fur to actual walking and exploring kittens. Illya complained good-naturedly, but Napoleon had seen him pick up and cuddle the kittens when he thought no one was looking.

"Hey, this came for you today." Illya carried a large box from the rear seat of his car inside. He laughed as two kittens raced by, intent upon a bit of leaf.

"Great! I was wondering when it was going to get here."

"What is it?"

"Oh, I asked Maisy to send me some stuff for the kittens," Napoleon said, taking it from him and carrying it to the small loveseat.

"Now they are getting imported food?" Illya shook his head and gave Napoleon a kiss. "What's for dinner tonight?"

"Something special. You go get changed and freshened up."

"Thanks! I feel as if I've eaten a ton of sawdust today." Illya waved and headed for the bathroom. Napoleon grabbed a knife from the kitchen and hurried to the box. He cut it open and grinned. Inside was a tightly-wrapped box. He cut into that and smoke began seeping out. Not actually smoke but rather the vapor of the dry ice. Inside the box, carefully protected were several cuts of meat. While most of the dry ice was gone, the meat was still cold

He lifted then out and transferred them to their small chest freezer. As much as he loved fish in all its varieties, a steak suddenly seemed a thing of beauty and the timing was perfect.

He picked two nice porterhouses set them aside to finish defrosting and went out to light a fire under the grill. He made sure the driftwood caught before returning to the box. Inside were several packs of cat toys and catnip, along with the piece de resistance. He was careful to tuck one away for the time being. The rest he moved to the freezer.

A few minutes later, Illya reappeared, towel drying his shaggy blond hair. He looked over Napoleon's shoulder and gasped. "Is that real meat?"

Napoleon sprinkled some sea salt over the surface and followed with some pepper. "As opposed to?"

"What they sell at LeSung's."

"Yes, I had Maisy go shopping for me. She also sent some bagels, some of Zabar's rugelach and babka that you like so much, some toys for the cats and a bunch of other things."

"Just what they need, more toys." The living room was already a tangle of string, balls of paper and boxes. The kittens happily bounced in and out of the newest one, rolling happily in its contents. Even Mom was interested.

"Give her one of the catnip mice and see what happens. Not all cats have the gene to appreciate catnip."

Illya dropped one in front of her and the cat sprang to life jumping and bouncing with it. "Well, I'll be. Look at her go."

Napoleon held out a platter to Illya. "Would you grill these while I get everything else ready? Seven minutes a side."

"Sure."

As soon as Illya disappeared outside, Napoleon hurried to set the table, arranging everything just so. When he was satisfied, he retrieved his surprise and set it in place.

Illya soon reappeared, carrying the finished steaks. "Here we go…" He stopped and just stared. "What is all of this?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

"Valentine's Day?"

"Surely you've heard of it."

"Never paid it much mind, really, but isn't it in February? It's the end of March." He set down the platter down on the table and looked at the white box. "What is this?"

"Valentine's Day is whenever you choose to make it. Why don't you open it and see?" Napoleon's grin now threatened to split his face in two.

Illya sat down and his face went from confused to anticipatory to delight as he tore open the paper. "Chocolates!" He inhaled deeply. "They certainly smell better than the stuff at LeSung's.

"Not just chocolate, but some of the best chocolate you will ever taste. This is Hotel Chocolat Less Sweet. I think it's the best of the best."

"I don't know…" Illya picked one and carefully bit into it. "Okay, I will give you that. It is the best chocolate I've ever eaten. Perhaps I will have this for dinner instead." He leaned over to kiss Napoleon.

Napoleon licked his lips. "How about dessert instead, unless you have something else in mind."

Illya's smile was wicked. Napoleon's waggling eyebrows made him laugh. "But perhaps afterwards, with some good champagne…"

"Then let us eat, drink, and be merry." Napoleon happened to glance over just as one kitten was a paw's length from hauling off a steak. "For tomorrow we work." He put the kitten back onto the floor and it ran off to join its siblings.

"Work? Tomorrow is Saturday and I, for one, intend to sleep the morning away."

"Nope, you can't do that." Napoleon took a roll from the basket and offered it to Illya.

"Why not?"

"Tomorrow, if all goes well, five hundred trees are arriving in Tiputa."

Illya held up a hand. "Wait, what?"

Napoleon sighed happily. "That is the second part of your gift. I ordered five hundred ironwood saplings from Maui. They are set to arrive tomorrow morning. I've already lined up a work crew to help plant them."

"You'll ruin the ecology of the island."

"You're more worried that I'll ruin your chance to lay in and be lazy. You were the one who said the island needed more of a wind break."

"They might not grow."

"Then and again, they might." Napoleon looked over that the four kittens rolling about on the rug in front of the box. "I think we owe it to Rangi to at least try."

"When did Rangi become so important to you?"

"The minute you became important to me." Napoleon lifted his glass instead. "To your very good health, Mr. Kuryakin."

"To our future blisters." Illya lifted his glass in return. "You really are something else, Solo. Of course, I knew that the minute you stepped off that plane."

For just an instant, his mother's image flashed through his mind and Napoleon banished it, replacing it with the love and happiness he'd found here. It was a very good life, indeed.