(no subject)
What would happen if that beautiful moment didn't work out so well?
Title: A First Time for Everything
Author: I'll tell you after I read the comments
Rating: NC/17
Warnings: M/M slash, much disappointment
I own nothing. The boys own themselves, and, I like to think, each other.
A First Time for Everything
There’s nothing like watching someone die to make you come to terms with your feelings.
Illya had put his eye to the telescope and seen the speed boat headed for the island. Just as Strago activated that weird device, the boat had come close enough that he could tell it was being driven by Napoleon. Once again, his partner had come to rescue him from, yet, another THRUSH mad man. He felt a moment of elation, just before the boat disintegrated before his eyes. No one could have survived such an explosion. No one, that is, that didn’t carry around the Solo luck like a safety pin.
Now they were safely back in New York, only a little the worse for wear, in Napoleon’s apartment. More importantly, in each others’ arms.
“This feels good. I can’t believe you waited so long to tell me,” Napoleon whispered to his long coveted love.
Illya pulled back a little so he could look into the dark caramel eyes. “At least I did tell you,” he replied softly. “If I’d had any idea you felt the same, I would have revealed myself years ago.”
“Well,” Napoleon leered, unbuckling and removing his partner’s shoulder holster, “I’m getting a bit, uh, impatient to reveal you right now. I’ve seen that luscious body of yours many times, when we were showering or changing, but I’m anticipating the privilege of being permitted to actually look at you.”
“I hope your ambitions extend beyond just looking, Napoleon,” Illya purred. “I am decidedly in need of quite a bit of touching, as well.”
“Fear not, partner mine.” The corners of Napoleon’s mouth twitched as he started on Illya’s shirt buttons. “I fully intend to touch every square inch of you before I let you go.”
There was silence for several minutes, as the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed grew; shirts, ties, shoes, socks, trousers, underpants, were all hindrances to the desire burning between the two soon-to-be lovers.
True to his word, Napoleon stepped back and looked. His eyes traveled leisurely from the crown of the golden head to the tips of the long, slender toes and back again; a languid smile growing on his lips.
“You are beautiful, my beloved. I have wanted, so many times, to be allowed to tell you that, but I was always afraid you would deck me if I did.” Napoleon spoke as if to a fretting child. The situation was far too new to take anything for granted.
He needn’t have worried, though. Illya’s eyes grew curiously bright, just before they closed and he lifted his face to Napoleon’s, asking for a kiss. His request was granted with enthusiasm.
As their lips touched, Napoleon thought how odd it was that this hadn’t occurred to him before. His sexual encounters usually began with a kiss. That’s as far as the thought progressed, though, because the taste and feel of his partner, as he pushed his tongue into that hot, delicious cavern, made thought superfluous. He delved deeper and…Illya broke the kiss and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“And just what do you call that?” he asked tersely.
“I call it kissing,” Napoleon answered, stunned and more than a little hurt. “What do you call it?”
“I would say it is more like being devoured,” Illya retorted. “You had your tongue so far down my throat I could hardly breathe.”
“Look,” Napoleon soothed, though resolved to have this out later,” I don’t want to fight. I want to make love to you. Let’s try something else, okay?”
He took Illya’s hand and led him to the queen sized, four poster bed. They lay down, side by side, facing each other. Before he thought, the siren call of those delectable lips made him move in for another kiss, but Illya pulled his head away.
“You said we’d try something else.” The terseness had not left his voice, and his face was beginning to cloud over.
Napoleon knew he had to do something quickly, or he could lose this opportunity altogether. Knowing what turned him on, he reached down and began to gently caress Illya’s testicles. His partner began to moan softly and push into his busy hand. ‘That’s more like it’, Napoleon thought to himself, and the caress became firmer.
“Ouch!” Illya yelled and nearly came off the bed. “You blockhead, don’t you know that I was repeatedly electrocuted there by that Diketon bitch?”
“I…I…I’m s…sorry, Love,” Napoleon stammered. “I knew she had used a cattle prod on you, but I had no idea…” he trailed off.
“Oh, I thought you read my report before you signed it.” The comment was caustic, but Illya’s mouth softened a bit. “Don’t stop. If I know you, you have something else down your collar.”
“That’s up your sleeve, you knucklehead, and I do.” Napoleon rolled over and lay partly on top of his partner. He lifted his hips and looked down lustfully at the dark red penis that was still plastered to Illya’s belly, with droplets of precum glistening on the tip.
Napoleon reached for his own cock and rubbed his silky preseminal fluid over it, fighting to keep himself from coming at the feel of his hand and the idea of what he was planning. He then lowered himself toward his lover, aligning their cocks side by side with a small thrust that ended with him pressing against Illya’s abdomen.
“Shit!” Illya practically screamed.
“There, too? Napoleon was beginning to get frustrated.
“Yeah, ribs.” Illya sounded disconsolate.
“Sorry,” Napoleon repeated, but his brain was working overtime. He had waited far too long, and wanted this much too badly, to let the moment slip away from him.
“Okay,” he began hopefully, and lay back down, on his side, looking into Illya’s eyes. He decided to draw on the one resource that had never failed him: words.
“I had no idea you were in so much pain, Caro,” he began. “If I had, I would never have handled you so roughly. I just wanted to show you how amazingly gorgeous I think you are.”
“Your eyes sparkle like the Caribbean at mid day and your hair is like golden spun silk.” Illya closed his eyes, so Napoleon continued. “When you’re aroused, your skin glows as though you were lit from within. You are sweet looking from top to bottom, and I…”
Illya’s eyes opened again, and the look in them was anything but pleased.
“Say another word and I will pull your ears over your head and tie them in a bow,” he ground out. “I am not one of your…your floozies that you can make perform with pretty words.”
The granddaddy of all scowls had plastered itself onto his face, and Napoleon began to despair in earnest. He apologized, yet, again.
“I don’t know what else to do, Illya. Why don’t you try something?” he practically pleaded.
“Well,” Illya said, hesitantly, “I don’t know any more about this than you do, except for some things Mark passed on to me that a homosexual friend of his told him. I can try that, but I need something slippery.”
Napoleon briefly considered the use of the word ‘homosexual’, then finally spoke. “You mean like snakes or worms or something?”
“No, stupid.” Illya rolled his eyes. “Like oil or lotion.”
Napoleon stared for a few more seconds, and then leapt from the bed. After much slamming of drawers and cabinets, he exited the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil in his hand. Illya lifted a single eyebrow.
“Well, I do spend a few nights alone.” Napoleon shrugged, flipping open the lid on the plastic bottle and handing it to his partner.
“I believe it is better, the first time, if you turn onto your stomach,” Illya announced in his instructor’s voice. Napoleon, completely out of his depth now, did as he was told.
“This helps too, I think,” Illya added, stuffing a pillow beneath Napoleon’s hips. He then coated his middle finger generously with the oil, wrinkling his nose at the baby smell, then used his other hand to gently pull the full cheeks apart until the puckered hole appeared. He looked down at his swollen cock and swallowed nervously when he thought about it breaching that tiny opening; but Mark had told him about stretching, and that’s what he was going to do.
He placed his finger gently against the opening and applied the oil to the outside first, rubbing gently. Napoleon squirmed a bit, but Illya was much too concentrated on his task to wonder if it was a good squirm or a bad squirm. Next, he pushed the finger inside a little and worked it in and out. Still no sign of discomfort - or pleasure, either - from his partner; so he pressed a bit harder and met resistance. Mark had told him about this, too, so he kept pressing, waiting for the muscle to loosen and grant him access.
“Ow,” Napoleon roared, “something bit me!”
Illya pulled his finger out and examined it closely. Damn!
“Sorry, Napoleon,” he mumbled contritely. “I had forgotten. That fingernail is jagged from where I broke it when I was carrying those boxes of heavy, heavy water at the THRUSH installation.” He spared a moment to be grateful to Mr. Waverly for instituting mandatory ambidexterity training for every member of Section Two, and carefully coated the middle finger of his other hand.
Since he and Napoleon, both, were now familiar with what was going to happen, he moved a little faster this time; pressing in and against that stubborn muscle with a bit more force. Finally, he was in up to his third knuckle and looking for the little knob of flesh that would make this whole venture worth while for his partner; but he felt nothing but smooth, hot tightness. He wanted, so badly, to move slowly, so as not to hurt Napoleon; but he began to imagine how it would feel when it was his cock in there instead of his finger, and he wasn’t sure if even he had that much self control.
His finger was now sliding in and out easily, so he added more oil and pressed two fingers in this time; continuing, to no avail, to attempt to locate Napoleon’s prostate. His lover still hadn’t shown any sign of distress, so he added a third finger.
“Illya?” Napoleon’s voice was muffled by the pillow under his face.
“Yes, Dushka,” he answered.
“When is this supposed to get good?” Napoleon asked mournfully.
Illya chose to assume that the question was rhetorical, so he continued in silence. He began to feel that Napoleon was as ready as he was ever going to be, and still no ‘miracle button’, as Mark’s friend had termed it. Well, he decided, maybe something bigger will hit it, so he positioned his cock and began to push slowly.
Napoleon began to pant. “Stop!” he bellowed, when Illya was about halfway in. Impossible as it was, Illya stopped.
“You’re killing me, Napoleon,” he ground out through clenched teeth, sweat pouring off him in sheets.
“I can imagine, but this really hurts.” For Napoleon to make such an admission, the pain must be immense. “Are you sure you’re doing it right?”
“I have had sex before,” Illya responded testily, “and, although I am a novice at this particular position, I’m pretty sure the penis goes in the hole.”
“I’m sorry, Partner,” he continued, his tone lighter, “it’s just that it is very difficult to hold still like this. Do you want me to pull out?”
“I’m not sure.” Napoleon’s voice still contained a painful edge. “What form would your retribution take if I said ‘Yes’?”
Illya disengaged as gently as he could, but he felt Napoleon shudder as he slid free. He, again, placed one hand on each of his partner’s cheeks and began to spread. A tremor shook Napoleon’s body and he tried to wrench himself free. Illya was dismayed, knowing that the violent reaction was because Napoleon thought he was going to be violated again.
“It’s all right, Dushka,” he soothed, “I simply wanted to see if I had damaged you. As you said, I am really not certain I know what I am doing.”
Illya was saddened further when Napoleon dropped his head back onto the pillow without so much as a glance in his direction. How could something he had desired for so long turn into such a debacle? Besides, that few minutes of being inside, and surrounded by, the man he had loved for so many years, only made him more determined to see this through.
“I can only think of one thing we haven’t tried yet,” he said gently. “What do you think?”
Napoleon lifted his head and turned onto his back, so he could smile up at Illya gamely. “I’ll try anything once, Partner.”
Illya straddled his friend and moved toward the head of the bed so his penis was near Napoleon’s face. Napoleon’s eyes widened.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” he remarked in disbelief. “You just had that thing up my ass, and now you want me to put it in my mouth?”
“Sorry.” It seemed to be a night for nothing but apologies. “I wasn’t thinking. Lie still and I’ll do it to you.”
Illya moved down again, until his face was at Napoleon’s crotch. His partner’s poor cock was flaccid again, so he took it in his hand and began to try to coax it back to life. After a while, though, he had to admit defeat and give up.
“I think I’ve killed it.” He looked up at Napoleon guiltily.
“No, it’s just exhausted,” Napoleon explained very seriously, and then burst out laughing. Illya looked wounded, at first, but then joined in the laughter whole heartedly. When they were both holding their stomachs, with tears rolling down their faces, they finally stopped and looked at each other.
“Well,” Illya breathed on a sigh, “for a team who usually work so well together, we have certainly made a right cock up of this - no pun intended, I assure you.”
“I think I know what the problem is,” Napoleon spoke slowly and deliberately. “We have accomplished many important things together. We’ve saved innocents, saved influential people, saved each other, and saved the world more times than I can count. But, and I can only speak for myself, this is the most essential thing I have ever done in my life. All my future happiness is riding on the outcome, and that’s a lot of pressure to face.”
“I don’t seem to be able to keep myself from making sexual puns,” Illya said apologetically, “but I believe you have hit the nail on the head. What do you suggest we do?” ###
“Remember when we first met; I didn’t want a partner and you didn’t like Americans?” Napoleon asked pointedly.
“I had nothing against Americans. I just didn’t like you.” Illya lowered his head and looked up from under his lashes. Napoleon’s cock twitched and, unbelievably, began to fill again. He wrapped his arms around his partner and began to pull, so Illya ended up on top of him.
“I’ll tell you what,” he rumbled, “let’s do exactly what I did, then, to get you to trust me. You take the lead and I will follow. Hmmm?”
“That sounds fair,” Illya answered, “and, since the first thing I did then was to tell you exactly what I thought of you, I will do the same now. I love you, Napoleon; but that isn’t all. I admire and respect you - and I have never said that about very many people. I also promise that I will never knowingly hurt you. I will ask nothing of you but to love me in return.”
A single tear coursed down Napoleon’s cheek as he placed a kiss on his partner’s perfect nose. “I couldn’t have said it better, myself, My Love.”
This time, Illya began to move against Napoleon until they were thrusting together in perfect rhythm. Before long, they were blissfully asleep, still in the same position and cemented together, with mutual love and drying semen.
Title: A First Time for Everything
Author: I'll tell you after I read the comments
Rating: NC/17
Warnings: M/M slash, much disappointment
I own nothing. The boys own themselves, and, I like to think, each other.
A First Time for Everything
There’s nothing like watching someone die to make you come to terms with your feelings.
Illya had put his eye to the telescope and seen the speed boat headed for the island. Just as Strago activated that weird device, the boat had come close enough that he could tell it was being driven by Napoleon. Once again, his partner had come to rescue him from, yet, another THRUSH mad man. He felt a moment of elation, just before the boat disintegrated before his eyes. No one could have survived such an explosion. No one, that is, that didn’t carry around the Solo luck like a safety pin.
Now they were safely back in New York, only a little the worse for wear, in Napoleon’s apartment. More importantly, in each others’ arms.
“This feels good. I can’t believe you waited so long to tell me,” Napoleon whispered to his long coveted love.
Illya pulled back a little so he could look into the dark caramel eyes. “At least I did tell you,” he replied softly. “If I’d had any idea you felt the same, I would have revealed myself years ago.”
“Well,” Napoleon leered, unbuckling and removing his partner’s shoulder holster, “I’m getting a bit, uh, impatient to reveal you right now. I’ve seen that luscious body of yours many times, when we were showering or changing, but I’m anticipating the privilege of being permitted to actually look at you.”
“I hope your ambitions extend beyond just looking, Napoleon,” Illya purred. “I am decidedly in need of quite a bit of touching, as well.”
“Fear not, partner mine.” The corners of Napoleon’s mouth twitched as he started on Illya’s shirt buttons. “I fully intend to touch every square inch of you before I let you go.”
There was silence for several minutes, as the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed grew; shirts, ties, shoes, socks, trousers, underpants, were all hindrances to the desire burning between the two soon-to-be lovers.
True to his word, Napoleon stepped back and looked. His eyes traveled leisurely from the crown of the golden head to the tips of the long, slender toes and back again; a languid smile growing on his lips.
“You are beautiful, my beloved. I have wanted, so many times, to be allowed to tell you that, but I was always afraid you would deck me if I did.” Napoleon spoke as if to a fretting child. The situation was far too new to take anything for granted.
He needn’t have worried, though. Illya’s eyes grew curiously bright, just before they closed and he lifted his face to Napoleon’s, asking for a kiss. His request was granted with enthusiasm.
As their lips touched, Napoleon thought how odd it was that this hadn’t occurred to him before. His sexual encounters usually began with a kiss. That’s as far as the thought progressed, though, because the taste and feel of his partner, as he pushed his tongue into that hot, delicious cavern, made thought superfluous. He delved deeper and…Illya broke the kiss and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“And just what do you call that?” he asked tersely.
“I call it kissing,” Napoleon answered, stunned and more than a little hurt. “What do you call it?”
“I would say it is more like being devoured,” Illya retorted. “You had your tongue so far down my throat I could hardly breathe.”
“Look,” Napoleon soothed, though resolved to have this out later,” I don’t want to fight. I want to make love to you. Let’s try something else, okay?”
He took Illya’s hand and led him to the queen sized, four poster bed. They lay down, side by side, facing each other. Before he thought, the siren call of those delectable lips made him move in for another kiss, but Illya pulled his head away.
“You said we’d try something else.” The terseness had not left his voice, and his face was beginning to cloud over.
Napoleon knew he had to do something quickly, or he could lose this opportunity altogether. Knowing what turned him on, he reached down and began to gently caress Illya’s testicles. His partner began to moan softly and push into his busy hand. ‘That’s more like it’, Napoleon thought to himself, and the caress became firmer.
“Ouch!” Illya yelled and nearly came off the bed. “You blockhead, don’t you know that I was repeatedly electrocuted there by that Diketon bitch?”
“I…I…I’m s…sorry, Love,” Napoleon stammered. “I knew she had used a cattle prod on you, but I had no idea…” he trailed off.
“Oh, I thought you read my report before you signed it.” The comment was caustic, but Illya’s mouth softened a bit. “Don’t stop. If I know you, you have something else down your collar.”
“That’s up your sleeve, you knucklehead, and I do.” Napoleon rolled over and lay partly on top of his partner. He lifted his hips and looked down lustfully at the dark red penis that was still plastered to Illya’s belly, with droplets of precum glistening on the tip.
Napoleon reached for his own cock and rubbed his silky preseminal fluid over it, fighting to keep himself from coming at the feel of his hand and the idea of what he was planning. He then lowered himself toward his lover, aligning their cocks side by side with a small thrust that ended with him pressing against Illya’s abdomen.
“Shit!” Illya practically screamed.
“There, too? Napoleon was beginning to get frustrated.
“Yeah, ribs.” Illya sounded disconsolate.
“Sorry,” Napoleon repeated, but his brain was working overtime. He had waited far too long, and wanted this much too badly, to let the moment slip away from him.
“Okay,” he began hopefully, and lay back down, on his side, looking into Illya’s eyes. He decided to draw on the one resource that had never failed him: words.
“I had no idea you were in so much pain, Caro,” he began. “If I had, I would never have handled you so roughly. I just wanted to show you how amazingly gorgeous I think you are.”
“Your eyes sparkle like the Caribbean at mid day and your hair is like golden spun silk.” Illya closed his eyes, so Napoleon continued. “When you’re aroused, your skin glows as though you were lit from within. You are sweet looking from top to bottom, and I…”
Illya’s eyes opened again, and the look in them was anything but pleased.
“Say another word and I will pull your ears over your head and tie them in a bow,” he ground out. “I am not one of your…your floozies that you can make perform with pretty words.”
The granddaddy of all scowls had plastered itself onto his face, and Napoleon began to despair in earnest. He apologized, yet, again.
“I don’t know what else to do, Illya. Why don’t you try something?” he practically pleaded.
“Well,” Illya said, hesitantly, “I don’t know any more about this than you do, except for some things Mark passed on to me that a homosexual friend of his told him. I can try that, but I need something slippery.”
Napoleon briefly considered the use of the word ‘homosexual’, then finally spoke. “You mean like snakes or worms or something?”
“No, stupid.” Illya rolled his eyes. “Like oil or lotion.”
Napoleon stared for a few more seconds, and then leapt from the bed. After much slamming of drawers and cabinets, he exited the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil in his hand. Illya lifted a single eyebrow.
“Well, I do spend a few nights alone.” Napoleon shrugged, flipping open the lid on the plastic bottle and handing it to his partner.
“I believe it is better, the first time, if you turn onto your stomach,” Illya announced in his instructor’s voice. Napoleon, completely out of his depth now, did as he was told.
“This helps too, I think,” Illya added, stuffing a pillow beneath Napoleon’s hips. He then coated his middle finger generously with the oil, wrinkling his nose at the baby smell, then used his other hand to gently pull the full cheeks apart until the puckered hole appeared. He looked down at his swollen cock and swallowed nervously when he thought about it breaching that tiny opening; but Mark had told him about stretching, and that’s what he was going to do.
He placed his finger gently against the opening and applied the oil to the outside first, rubbing gently. Napoleon squirmed a bit, but Illya was much too concentrated on his task to wonder if it was a good squirm or a bad squirm. Next, he pushed the finger inside a little and worked it in and out. Still no sign of discomfort - or pleasure, either - from his partner; so he pressed a bit harder and met resistance. Mark had told him about this, too, so he kept pressing, waiting for the muscle to loosen and grant him access.
“Ow,” Napoleon roared, “something bit me!”
Illya pulled his finger out and examined it closely. Damn!
“Sorry, Napoleon,” he mumbled contritely. “I had forgotten. That fingernail is jagged from where I broke it when I was carrying those boxes of heavy, heavy water at the THRUSH installation.” He spared a moment to be grateful to Mr. Waverly for instituting mandatory ambidexterity training for every member of Section Two, and carefully coated the middle finger of his other hand.
Since he and Napoleon, both, were now familiar with what was going to happen, he moved a little faster this time; pressing in and against that stubborn muscle with a bit more force. Finally, he was in up to his third knuckle and looking for the little knob of flesh that would make this whole venture worth while for his partner; but he felt nothing but smooth, hot tightness. He wanted, so badly, to move slowly, so as not to hurt Napoleon; but he began to imagine how it would feel when it was his cock in there instead of his finger, and he wasn’t sure if even he had that much self control.
His finger was now sliding in and out easily, so he added more oil and pressed two fingers in this time; continuing, to no avail, to attempt to locate Napoleon’s prostate. His lover still hadn’t shown any sign of distress, so he added a third finger.
“Illya?” Napoleon’s voice was muffled by the pillow under his face.
“Yes, Dushka,” he answered.
“When is this supposed to get good?” Napoleon asked mournfully.
Illya chose to assume that the question was rhetorical, so he continued in silence. He began to feel that Napoleon was as ready as he was ever going to be, and still no ‘miracle button’, as Mark’s friend had termed it. Well, he decided, maybe something bigger will hit it, so he positioned his cock and began to push slowly.
Napoleon began to pant. “Stop!” he bellowed, when Illya was about halfway in. Impossible as it was, Illya stopped.
“You’re killing me, Napoleon,” he ground out through clenched teeth, sweat pouring off him in sheets.
“I can imagine, but this really hurts.” For Napoleon to make such an admission, the pain must be immense. “Are you sure you’re doing it right?”
“I have had sex before,” Illya responded testily, “and, although I am a novice at this particular position, I’m pretty sure the penis goes in the hole.”
“I’m sorry, Partner,” he continued, his tone lighter, “it’s just that it is very difficult to hold still like this. Do you want me to pull out?”
“I’m not sure.” Napoleon’s voice still contained a painful edge. “What form would your retribution take if I said ‘Yes’?”
Illya disengaged as gently as he could, but he felt Napoleon shudder as he slid free. He, again, placed one hand on each of his partner’s cheeks and began to spread. A tremor shook Napoleon’s body and he tried to wrench himself free. Illya was dismayed, knowing that the violent reaction was because Napoleon thought he was going to be violated again.
“It’s all right, Dushka,” he soothed, “I simply wanted to see if I had damaged you. As you said, I am really not certain I know what I am doing.”
Illya was saddened further when Napoleon dropped his head back onto the pillow without so much as a glance in his direction. How could something he had desired for so long turn into such a debacle? Besides, that few minutes of being inside, and surrounded by, the man he had loved for so many years, only made him more determined to see this through.
“I can only think of one thing we haven’t tried yet,” he said gently. “What do you think?”
Napoleon lifted his head and turned onto his back, so he could smile up at Illya gamely. “I’ll try anything once, Partner.”
Illya straddled his friend and moved toward the head of the bed so his penis was near Napoleon’s face. Napoleon’s eyes widened.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” he remarked in disbelief. “You just had that thing up my ass, and now you want me to put it in my mouth?”
“Sorry.” It seemed to be a night for nothing but apologies. “I wasn’t thinking. Lie still and I’ll do it to you.”
Illya moved down again, until his face was at Napoleon’s crotch. His partner’s poor cock was flaccid again, so he took it in his hand and began to try to coax it back to life. After a while, though, he had to admit defeat and give up.
“I think I’ve killed it.” He looked up at Napoleon guiltily.
“No, it’s just exhausted,” Napoleon explained very seriously, and then burst out laughing. Illya looked wounded, at first, but then joined in the laughter whole heartedly. When they were both holding their stomachs, with tears rolling down their faces, they finally stopped and looked at each other.
“Well,” Illya breathed on a sigh, “for a team who usually work so well together, we have certainly made a right cock up of this - no pun intended, I assure you.”
“I think I know what the problem is,” Napoleon spoke slowly and deliberately. “We have accomplished many important things together. We’ve saved innocents, saved influential people, saved each other, and saved the world more times than I can count. But, and I can only speak for myself, this is the most essential thing I have ever done in my life. All my future happiness is riding on the outcome, and that’s a lot of pressure to face.”
“I don’t seem to be able to keep myself from making sexual puns,” Illya said apologetically, “but I believe you have hit the nail on the head. What do you suggest we do?” ###
“Remember when we first met; I didn’t want a partner and you didn’t like Americans?” Napoleon asked pointedly.
“I had nothing against Americans. I just didn’t like you.” Illya lowered his head and looked up from under his lashes. Napoleon’s cock twitched and, unbelievably, began to fill again. He wrapped his arms around his partner and began to pull, so Illya ended up on top of him.
“I’ll tell you what,” he rumbled, “let’s do exactly what I did, then, to get you to trust me. You take the lead and I will follow. Hmmm?”
“That sounds fair,” Illya answered, “and, since the first thing I did then was to tell you exactly what I thought of you, I will do the same now. I love you, Napoleon; but that isn’t all. I admire and respect you - and I have never said that about very many people. I also promise that I will never knowingly hurt you. I will ask nothing of you but to love me in return.”
A single tear coursed down Napoleon’s cheek as he placed a kiss on his partner’s perfect nose. “I couldn’t have said it better, myself, My Love.”
This time, Illya began to move against Napoleon until they were thrusting together in perfect rhythm. Before long, they were blissfully asleep, still in the same position and cemented together, with mutual love and drying semen.