A Man from U.N.C.L.E. Story
by Darklady
Chapter Forty-Four : (What I'll Give You) Since You Asked
Rated: NC-17
****
We make it back to the house without further incident. Our car is damaged, but not badly enough to attract unwanted attention at this late hour. Mark and David are waiting, but they are too polite to press us with questions. At least not now. Mark will quiz April, and David will question Mark, but for now at least we will be left in peace. They simply lock up behind us and say good night. We are back in our room before Napoleon ceases to be charming.
"Illyusha. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I answer. "I am uninjured."
"I know that. But I also know you. You've been far too quiet since that last car - even for my stoic Russian." He pulls off his tie and draws it lightly over my wrist. "Give! Or do I have to interrogate?"
I drop my wallet on the nightstand. Then my glasses.
He drops a kiss on my shoulder but I move away.
"I am sorry." I hesitate but..I owe him an honest confession of my weakness. "It is just that... I had this....fantasy." I drop to the chair, not certain of how to explain what I do not myself fully understand. "We would find some pretty house... perhaps on the water. Where you could keep a little boat for the weekends."
Napasha brushes one finger through my hair. "You hate boats."
"No." I kiss the hand before returning it. "I hate sea-sickness. The new drugs are supposedly very effective. Anyway - that is not important." I pull out my phone and plug it into the charger. "Perhaps instead we could have a little dacha in the country with the grapes..."
Napasha hangs up his jacket and holds out his hand for mine. "Go on."
"You would do something...charming....and clever. Where your suits would not always be ruined from being shot or crawling through sewers..."
"I'd go for that."
"And I?" I slide off the holster and place the new pistol beside the Makarov on the nightstand. "I would go to school, and teach freshman lab, and maybe translate sometimes for the visiting lecturer series. And we could go to the ballet, or even to a concert for your Beatles, and I would NOT have to worry about bombs or poison or guns or any of those things. And we would only have to be spies on Monday nights."
"We *can* do that. I promise..." Napasha reassures me, placing his watch and pistol by his phone.
I cut him off. "There are steel shutters on the windows and a gas-proof air filtration system on this house."
"Today, yes." He sits on the bed, very near me. "But... we will find out who is doing this. And April *will* take care of them, just as she did for Mark. And maybe not today, but eventually.....well..."
"Napasha." I turn to him."It is not just that. It is..." This is the hardest part. But he is my partner, and he must know me if I am to be useful to him. "When they started firing...I felt...alive. Awake. For the first time since I woke in that hospital I felt...like myself."
"So.. you want back in the game?"
"That does not appear to be an option."
"We are team one." Napasha leans back. "We are never out of options."
I shake my head. "You heard April. She does not want team one. She wants to put me under some mountain counting boxes."
"April isn't the only game in town."
Reaching for the top drawer, I pull out a much-folded form. "They do not seem to want me either. And I will not.."
Napasha plucks the form from my fingers and tosses it back, sliding the drawer shut for good measure. " Never. I know. But... How do you feel about France?"
France? That is a strange leap even for Pasha. "What has France....?" I start.
"You remember Marie Dumont?"
"Section 2. Europe." Marie Dumont was my 'boss' when I was assigned there early in my U.N.C.L.E. career. Dark haired woman. Rather pretty, in the athletic way all sisters tend to be pretty. Good with explosives. Degree in chemical engineering from Montana. No one so special that Napoleon should mention her now.
Napasha must see the awareness in my eyes, because he nods. "She surely remembers you."
"And?"
"She was a friend of mine. Not like that... OK." He gives me a bit of a guilty grin, like a little boy caught stealing cookies. " Like that, but before I even *met* you. Anyway, she was one of the people who called on Monday. I wasn't going to mention it if... you wanted to go to Santa Barbara, but...? She's heading up a project for the CNES. The Centre' National de Etudes Spatiaels?. The Ariane Rocket program?"
Ariane? I review my searches of Sunday night. "I remember reading something about that. Small rockets."
"Portable launch platform," Napasha confirms. "They test over the Med and from French Guiana, but they're based in Toulouse."
"So?"
"They are running a 50% loss rate, and she was hoping we might change that."
"Napoleon." I search his face but see nothing. "That is flattering, but I am forty plus years out of rocketry, and it was not my field even when...."
"Illyusha!" He grins widely, pleased at having fooled me even briefly. " No one's math is that bad... not even the French." Then he becomes serious. "Not that she's been able to *catch* anyone in sabotage. The official explanation is software failure, but...." No need to finish the sentence.
"Da," I nod. "That type of change."
"When Marie heard that we weren't staying in New York with April, she got our number and called to find out if I was open to...other offers. When I told her we both might be...well." He gestures broadly. "She asked me to hold off a bit.."
"Why?"
"Well, she *is* in direct competition with Baykonur. Or rather would like to be. Always diplomatic to let Kronsteen make the first bid. And according to her you haven't quite turned the man down. But? South of France? Mediterranean climate? French food?"
"Demitri Kronsteen was speaking to Marie Dumont?" That is a strange image. Demitri Ivanovich being diplomatic to anyone is a strange image. "What did he want?"
"I have no idea." Napasha give me his blandest look. The tease. "I've never met the man."
"He was in Tallin." I try to remember what Demitri said. What I was too distracted at the time to truly hear. Something about the future...? Not that Napasha and I could have a future in my homeland. Could we? I look up at Napasha hovering so nearby. "You would never..?"
"Instead of France?" He takes my hand. "I'd...listen."
*********************
When Napasha pulls me forward I freeze. Not intentionally. Not even consciously. Just...too many memories.
"Sorry." Napoleon releases my fingers. "I can..sleep next door if..."
"No!" I clasp both his hands and raise them to my lips. "I was just ... distracted a moment."
He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "If you want.. to just sleep..."
"No," I answer, fervent, looking into chocolate eyes. "While I have you.. I want you."
"And you do have me." He opens his arms and I go into them. "That I swear is true."
Pressing kisses to his throat, I vow, "And you me. For however long you wish."
"Then that is forever."
"I do hope so." Leaning forward, I roll with him onto the bed. Still dressed, but that is familiar enough. With easy skill and practiced aid I free him from his garments, even as he strips away mine. Later perhaps I will fold them , but for now shirts and trousers can crumple to the floor. Strong hand claim my shoulder, then sweep down to my ass. They pull me closer, into the heat of mouth and tongue and palm. I do likewise, reaching for him, finding him hard and ready. Aching even as I ache.
With both hands I circle him. Inelegant, perhaps, but I have no patience tonight for tricks and games. Napasha is here, and I need him. In my life, in my bed, in my heart. And, when by fortune I can have him, in my ass. And fortune it is that he wants even as I want.
As soon as we are bare I urge him forward, opening my thighs for him and pulling him down on top of me. He follows eagerly, sliding one hand to brace my back while the other prepares me for his entrance. Not that I need much help, eager as I am. Eager as he is.
In one smooth movement he enters me, completes me, pulling me against him even as I surge up to met him. My own cock is trapped between or stomachs, and each thrust becomes a stroke of delight. Soon, far too soon, I feel him flood within me. But I have no more patience then Napasha, and that final sensation lures me over the edge of my own pleasure, splashing between us in a wave of warmth and salt.
************
Later. I am tired, and yet I can not sleep. I rest my head against Napasha's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Feeling the drum of his pulse beneath my fingers. Breathing in the mixed scent of salt and musk that is Napoleon Solo. I am still. I have learned to be very still. But Napasha is not fooled.
"Illya?" He rolls so we are face to face. "What is it?"
"Nothing." I rub my cheek against his chest, both a comfort and a distraction.
"Illya!"
I drop a kiss down that hair-dark center line.
"Illyusha!" Napasha rises on one elbow.
I look at he pillow, the ceiling - anything but him. "If I wanted to go back in....?" I raise my eyes to his, looking for...I don't know what. " Would you..?"
"That would depend," he answers, his tone not comforting, but rather dead honest. "On the offer and the game."
That is a Napoleon answer. Or rather non-answer. But when does he ever answer a question directly. "Always so tactical." I tease.
"Hey," he smiles. "It's what I do."
Another Napoleon answer. But below the wit there is always a truth. One I have learned to read. "I will not if you object.." I start.
He closes my lips with a light kiss. "I'd prefer France. but...I know you've missed your home."
"And you will not?"
"Sometimes.. maybe." He drops back to the pillow. "But I think you're the only real home I've ever had."
END CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR