Illya manipulated his jaw as he stared into the mirror. The bruising wasn't that obvious; it just hurt like… well, it felt as if he'd been kicked in the mouth by a very determined jackass. He just wasn't sure who the jackass was – him or Napoleon.
"For the record, I didn't want to hit you – you insisted." Napoleon was straightening the knot in his tie. Now that the Summit Five, well, four, actually, was in full swing, it was time to regroup and catch up on some R & R.
"It needed to look good. We were dealing with UNCLE agents after all."
"Agents who need a bit more training, I think. I'd never rush into an empty cell without making sure first that it was… empty." Napoleon shot his cuffs and brushed off a lapel.
"You are the standard to which we all aspire." Illya's tongue kept going back to play with an unfamiliar spot along his gum. He was so used to having the tiny lock pick there, it seemed odd to have it missing.
Napoleon grimaced at him and slipped his pistol into the shoulder holster. "Look at it this way; at least you are free of Beldon."
"That is true." Illya returned to examining his jaw. "Did you have to hit me so hard?"
"I hit you harder than that when we're sparring in the gym. You just didn't think I'd do it."
"You're right, I didn't… so why did you?"
"You demanded me to – I didn't want to and you forced the issue." Napoleon checked his handkerchief. "It isn't my fault you have a glass jaw."
"I beg your pardon?"
Napoleon grinned at that and walked over to him. He reached out and Illya evaded his hand. "Will you hold still? I'm not going to punch you again. I just want to take a look."
This time Illya permitted his partner's touch. Then the world suddenly slammed to a stop as Napoleon leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise.
"Wha… why… why did you do that?" Illya stammered, once he regained the power of speech.
"Well, when I was growing up, my mom always gave us a kiss when we hurt something. She said it made it heal faster…" Napoleon grinned. "Why, Mr. Kuryakin, you appear a bit flushed. Are you feeling all right?" He pulled Illya's head closer and kissed his forehead tenderly.
"And that?" Illya pulled away just a fraction of an inch.
"Seeing if you have a fever, of course. This is how my mother always did it." Napoleon brushed a bit of hair from Illya's temple and permitted his fingers to linger there, softly stroking Illya's skin.
Illya's breath quickened against Napoleon's cheek. "She's a wise woman. And do I? Have a fever?"
"Well, you seem a bit peaky and you are certainly… hot. I think maybe we should get you into bed." Napoleon hand continued, moving to the back of Illya's head and pulling him in until they were lip to lip. "And I wouldn't be much of a partner if I left you in your… hour of need."
Illya took the initiative this time and leaned into Napoleon's mouth, flicking his tongue against those skilled lips until they opened to him. He pushed Napoleon's jacket off his shoulders before dropping his hands to a trim waist and permitting his fingers to tangle in the side belt loops.
"This isn't getting you into bed." Napoleon retreated just enough from Illya's mouth to form words.
"No, it is not, but you started this." Illya relented and moved his attention to Napoleon's neck, licking and nipping his way from one side to the other.
"And your point?"
"I very much intend to finish… "Illya felt Napoleon's erection, hard and impressive, against his thigh. "Both it and you." He moved his right hand to cup half of Napoleon's ass. "Don't tell me you are having second thoughts?"
"Seconds, thirds and fourths, but not those of confusion or regrets." He started unbuttoning Illya's shirt, even as Illya continued his assault of Napoleon's throat. "And I think this is far too slow for what I have in mind."
"And what might that be, my friend?"
"You, me, naked, doing what comes naturally… and then naturally you'll come."
"I see? And this is yet another scheme of yours?"
"Scheme? Me? Never, Illya." He finally got Illya's shirt open and pushed it wide. "This is all a cleverly deduced and skillfully executed plan." He bent his head to kiss the base of Illya's neck. "I am a master of seduction…"
"I see… and what does that make me?"
Napoleon sucked and Illya hissed as lips and teeth bruised his skin. Once Napoleon was sure the mark was as he desired, he pulled away, licking the spot tenderly. "Very, very lucky…"
"I see." Illya got Napoleon's belt unbuckled and his fly eased down. Napoleon's penis poked out, looking very relieved to have escaped its cloth prison. Illya began to stroke it, his movement sure and experienced.
"You've done this before." Napoleon tipped his head back, mouth open, eyes closed in pleasure.
"You have no idea the genie you've released from the bottle, my friend." Illya retreated a step and peeled off his shirt, then undid his own belt and fly. He stepped out of his trousers as they fell to his feet. Naked, he studied Napoleon and smiled a wicked little smile. "But you are about to find out."
Napoleon grinned back. "Do I get three wishes, oh Genie?" He quickly disrobed as well and walked to the bed, plopping down on it.
"Perhaps." Illya joined him and began to kiss him again. "What would be your first wish?"
Napoleon combed Illya's hair back and studied his face seriously for a moment. "A good friend and I already got that one right here."
"Uh, and I didn't even have to wave my wand."
"It' s a very nice wand, though…" Napoleon dragged his hand down Illya's stomach and began stroking him. "My second wish, an equal in bed…"
"Hmm, I'd say you have that one as well, but that remains to be seen."
"Why do I suddenly fear for my virtue?"
"Silly."
"To fear for my virtue?"
"Exactly." Illya found a nipple and began to tease it with his tongue. "You should fear for your life."
"Going to kill me, aren't you?" Napoleon's expression was of pure bliss.
"Uh huh, but not for a very, very long time… what about your third wish?"
"How about happily ever after?"
At that, Illya pulled away from him and smiled gently. "I shall certainly do my best to grant that one, for both our sakes."
And Illya Kuryakin was a man of his word.