Who Goes There? - Spoke Me 2022
Title: Who Goes There?
Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon/Illya
Word Count: 5,441
Summary: Something is stalking a group of scientists. But why, and how?
Written for Spoke Me 2022.
"Why did you go with him?" The UNCLE agent asked again.
"I swear, I thought he was my husband." The woman put her head down on the table and started sobbing. "I thought he was my husband."
Napoleon gave the woman on the other side of the glass a last look before turning to his partner. "What do you think?"
Illya, second only to Napoleon in UNCLE's agent hierarchy, shrugged. "She seems sincere enough. Could it have been a disguise?"
"That would have to be some disguise." Napoleon opened the file in his hand. "According to this, her husband was 6'3"."
"So they found someone tall."
"Still, it's hard to imagine that she could be fooled. She's a well known biologist, not someone lacking in brains. And to be fooled into thinking that someone was her dead husband…"
"Yes, I've read some of her publications." Illya shook his head. "It still doesn't answer the question as to why she handed over such sensitive information. Husband or not, he hadn't been cleared. Didn't she wonder why?"
"Apparently not. Or he had a plausible answer for her. Either way, she's not the first." Napoleon counted off the folders in his arms. "There's been one, two, three….seven people so far who are connected to the program that have been visited by dead loved ones."
"Someone is going to a lot of trouble to gain information regarding one of the U.S. government's attempts at producing a new chemical weapon."
"Indeed." Napoleon tilted his head toward the hallway. " Come on. Mr. Waverly wants us to study these folders, find something in them that might gives us a clue as to who's behind the thefts."
Illya followed his partner down the hall and to their shared office. Once inside, Napoleon handed him four of the folders. Then, he turned back to his desk and gave him one more.
Illya gave him a look.
"It's one of the two members who haven't been contacted yet."
"Yet somehow I have still ended up with more."
Napoleon grinned. "One of us has to go get lunch." He turned and grabbed his coat for the hat rack near the door. "I promise not to be long."
Illya walked to his desk and sat down. He opened the top folder and began to read. He was deep into the second file when Napoleon returned.
"Here's your Reuben." Napoleon handed over the sandwich before walking over to his own desk. "Any luck?"
"Not really." Illya closed the file, and unwrapped his sandwich. "I still don't see how their assailant knew about their loss of a love one, or how he convinced them to hand over the secret information."
Napoleon nodded and then opened the top file on his desk. They both ate while perusing the files. Two hours later, they both closed the last file.
"Well, that was a colossal waste of time," Napoleon remarked as he leaned back in his chair. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to going home.
"There are the two members of the program who have not yet been visited; since both live in New York, it should be easy enough to contact them."
"Aren't they already in protective custody?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes, but I still think we should seek them out. We could each visit one, and hopefully get a lead."
"Fine." Napoleon said as he stood up. "We can go first thing in the morning, then meet here."
Illya closed the last file and then looked at his watch. "We still might have time to do it tonight."
Napoleon sighed. "Illya, it's almost midnight. Most people are already in bed."
"Very well," Illya responded, with a note of resignation.
Napoleon got their coats while Illya cleared off his desk. He turned off the light as they walked out the door. "How about a beer?"
*****
Illya took another swig from his beer, and then grabbed a handful of the pretzel and nut mix from the bowl on the table. That was one thing he liked about going with Napoleon for a drink. All the places his partner frequented always had something for you to eat.
They were sitting in a booth along the back wall, only one side of it open to the rest of the room. They both faced toward the door.
Napoleon took a drink before setting his beer bottle down. "Pretty woman."
Illya followed his graze. A shapely blonde had just entered the establishment. He frowned. Well, he knew when it was time to make an exit. He finished off his beer and stood.
"Where you going?"
"I…I assumed you were going to try to make the woman's acquaintance."
"No, sit down." Napoleon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back onto his seat. "She's pretty, but I'm too tired to make the effort."
Illya's eyebrows rose. "You? Too tired? Since when?"
Napoleon laughed. "Since I turned thirty-five, I think." He finished off his beer and then motioned toward the bar for two more. "Besides, I'm perfectly content where I am."
"Very well, as long as you're buying."
Napoleon focused on his empty bottle, carefully pulling off its label. "You haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
Just then the bartender approached their table with their order. Napoleon waited until he had moved off before answering. "That I haven't been going out as much as I used to, that I go straight home after work."
Illya thought it over. "I suppose I assumed that you were going home to get ready for a date."
"No." He paused. "No. I think I'm just getting tired of it all."
"You mean working for UNCLE?" Illya asked, alarmed.
"Work is fine. It's the rest of my life that's stuck." He shrugged, and took a large slug of beer.
"Stuck? Stuck how?"
Napoleon waved him off. "It's nothing. I guess I'm just in a reflective mood."
They sat in silence, each locked in his own thoughts. Illya hadn't like the way their conversation had ended, but he knew better than to push. It was the easiest way to rouse Napoleon's anger. He would have to wait until his friend was ready to tell him what was going on with him, though he was afraid that he already knew.
Napoleon suddenly stood and threw a ten dollar bill on the table. "Guess I should be getting home. Want to share a cab?"
"No, I think I'll stick around here for awhile. Listen to the music."
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Illya watched as Napoleon walked away and out the door. He sipped his beer while pondering what his future held in store if Napoleon decided to wed, because that's what it had sounded like to Illya. That he was tired of playing the game, going out with a different woman, two, three times a week.
He couldn't imagine UNCLE without Napoleon, though going back home was out of the question. He'd gotten too used to the freedoms the West offered. Perhaps he would just disappear into this wide-open country. There were plenty of places to hide, away from UNCLE, away from Napoleon.
Away from Napoleon. The words left a sick feeling in his stomach. At least while they were partners he could pretend that they were more than that. Pretend that Napoleon loved him the way he loved Napoleon.
He wondered if what he felt was close to what those people who'd had their loved ones reappear felt. To suddenly have what you'd longed for for so long.
Illya polished off his beer and stood up. He left the bar and started walking. Maybe the night air would clear his head of its fantasies, though so many long walks had never done the trick. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and started home.
*****
Illya drove to the university first thing in the morning. Classes hadn't started, so while the teachers were there, the students weren't. He easily found a parking spot, though he couldn't help but yawn as he pulled the car into it. It had been a difficult night.
He locked the car, noting the two agents standing guard at the building doors. He recognized both, but still flashed his ID as he entered the building. Dr. Salvadore's office was on the second floor; Illya chose the stairs.
He found the room easily enough. He stood in the doorway and studied the layout. Only one entrance, but with a bank of windows that might be a second way in. At the front of the room he saw a man sitting behind the desk, deep into his work.
"Dr. Salvadore?" Illya asked as he approached.
The man looked up. "Yes, what is it?"
"I'm from U.N.C.L.E., Illya Kuryakin. I need to ask you some questions-"
"Sit done, young man, and let me finish this. It will only take a few minutes."
Illya gave the room a second look as Dr. Salvadore finished up. The place reminded him of his time at Cambridge; the professor in tweed, with a beard shot with gray.
"Very well," the doctor said as he pushed his papers away. "What can I do for you?"
"It's to do with your colleagues, the ones from the government project."
"Ah, yes, I've heard about that brouhaha. Strange, very strange."
"You haven't been approached by someone seemingly from your past?"
The man sat back with a wry chuckle. "It would be very difficult, as there are no people from my past. Not dead ones, in any event."
"No one? That's hard to imagine."
"But true. I lost both parents during the Great War. If there was any family, I never knew about them. And I've never been married, so no children. So you see, Mr. Kuryakin, I am perfectly safe."
Maybe safe, but what a lonely life, Illya thought.
The professor leaned forward placed his crossed arms on the desk. "I can imagine what you're thinking. But my work has been my life, and it's been enough for me."
Illya stood. "Then I will leave you to it. But the two guards will remain. In fact, I'm going to have one of them come up here. You may feel that you're safe, but this man seems to be able to delve into people's minds."
"Do what feel you must," Dr. Salvadore said as he waved Illya away. "But I must return to my work."
Illya left, taking the stairs down and then sending one of the agents up to more closely guard the doctor. If what Dr. Salvadore said was true, he was probably safe. Illya didn't know whether to feel relief or pity.
*****
Napoleon pulled into the parking lot in front of the high end apartment building. Jacob Hoffman apparently had done well for himself. He didn't think chemistry paid so well.
He found a parking spot right in from of the building. He could see two agents at the front doors in his rearview mirror. Considering how things had gone so far, he hoped there were more inside.
Getting out of the car, he scanned the general area. Everything looked good, which automatically put him on edge. Always think the worst.
"May I help you?" One of the agents asked as Napoleon approached the doors.
Napoleon showed him his ID and saw the agent relax. "Keep your guard up…"
"Agent Wilding, sir, yes, sir."
Inside, another three agents stood near the elevator bank and emergency stairway. Napoleon recognized one of them. "Hank, good to see you."
A tall, lanky, blond with a crewcut turned around. "Napoleon, as I live and breath. I thought guard detail was beneath you."
"I wanted to talk to Mr. Hoffman. Everything going okay?"
"Yeah, Jerry went up about fifteen minutes ago to spell Agent Spelling, here." He pointed to one of the other agents who nodded at Napoleon. "And the guys outside are checking around the entire building every ten minutes."
"I guess I'll go up, then. Fifth floor, right?"
"Apartment 502. You can't miss it. It's the first one on your right."
Napoleon pushed for the elevator, giving the place another look as he waited. Then he noticed Agent Wilding hurrying in, a look of sorrow mixed with unease on his face. "We just found Jerry's body around the back of the building."
"That's not possible," Hank responded, as he pushed passed him and out the door.
Napoleon didn't wait. He ran toward the stairwell, shouting instructions behind him. "One of you follow me, the rest stay here and make sure no one leaves the building." He threw open the stairwell door and raced up the steps. He could hear one of the other agents pounding up behind him, but he didn't slow down. On the fifth floor, he charged into the apartment.
He could hear a voice coming from one of the bedrooms. Napoleon readied his gun has he made his way over. He knew that he would see Jerry, or a duplicate of Jerry, in the room. But he was wrong. Out on the balcony, he saw a young woman standing in front of Hoffman, her hands on the sides of his head. Napoleon didn't hesitate. He shot.
The woman let out a shriek as the bullet entered her upper arm. As she turned toward Napoleon her face began to contort, becoming neither woman or man, but something in-between, something malevolent. Napoleon grimaced and took aim again. He managed to shoot it in the chest before the thing grabbed the unresponsive Hoffman. Using him as shield, it suddenly turned and attempted to push the man off the balcony.
Napoleon rushed over, catching Hoffman just in time, but losing his prey as the thing ran passed him and out of the apartment.
"Hoffman, Hoffman, are you okay?" Napoleon shook the man, who slowly seemed to be coming to himself.
"Napoleon, you in here?"
"In here," Napoleon shouted.
Spelling walked in and came out onto the balcony. "Is he okay?"
"I think so. Hoffman?" He gently shook the man again.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Hoffman looked around. "Where is Lisa?"
"Lisa? Your daughter?" Napoleon asked. From the file he knew that she had been the great loss of Hoffman's life.
"Yes, she was right here. She wanted something." Hoffman rubbed his forehead. "I forget what."
"She wasn't here, sir. It was all a trick."
Hoffman's face crumpled. "I should have known. But she seemed so real."
"Come on, we'll take you to the hospital to be checked out." Napoleon looked at Spelling. "Did you see anyone coming up?"
"No, not on the stairwell. And if anyone tries using the elevators, they'll be stopped downstairs."
The two agents helped a stunned and confused Hoffman out of the apartment and to the elevators. Napoleon thought he could hear the man crying as the elevator descended. As the doors opened, five other agents stood with guns drawn.
"Can one of you call for an ambulance? I don't think there's any lasting affect, but I think Dr. Hoffman should be seen, anyway." Napoleon gave a puzzled look. "What's the matter?"
Without dropping his gun, Hank responded. "Napoleon, you just came down ten minutes ago."
*****
Mr. Waverly spun the table top around, the sparse file coming around to Napoleon and Illya. The three men sat around the large table in Waverly's office. It was coming onto midnight, yet the day wasn't over for the three men.
"As you may imagine, we don't have a great deal of information regarding," Mr. Waverly made a pained expression. "Shape shifters."
Illya picked up the file. He opened it and began leafing through the few pages within. "Though they appear in both the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Iliad, there doesn't seem to have been any around lately. Until now, of course."
"I wouldn't think that it would be that hard to find. I shot it twice," Napoleon said.
"That may not matter. According to legend, shapeshifters can heal very fast and completely. The agents didn't see any blood on the fake Napoleon, so it probably had already regenerated. It also implies that its ‘clothes' are part of its make-up."
"The other agents said it was wearing the exact same thing that I was." Napoleon gave a quick shudder. "They weren't going to let me go at first, not sure if I was the real Napoleon. If it hadn't been for Hank verifying me…"
"How is he doing?" Illya asked.
"As well as can be expected after losing his partner." Napoleon shook his head and took the file. "So, how do we kill it?"
"I think the goal is to capture it, Mr. Solo," Waverly admonished.
"How, sir?" Napoleon asked. "I shot it twice, the second time dead center. It barely slowed it down, and then only for less than a minute."
"Napoleon is right, sir," Illya interjected. "We wouldn't be able to hold it. And, maybe, the only way to kill it is to either decapitate it, or shoot it in the heart." He turned to Napoleon. " So you may have almost managed it. I few inches to the left, and our troubles might have already been over."
"Maybe," Napoleon said. "But maybe not. We don't know if either way will work."
"Well, gentlemen, you'll have to come up with something. Both Dr. Hoffman and Mr, Kuryakin's charge, Dr. Salvadore, are guests of UNCLE now. They're under 24 hour surveillance in one of the suites. They will stay here until you manage to deal with…with whatever this thing is."
"Yes, sir," they both responded before standing up and exiting the room.
"So, now what?" Napoleon asked, as they walked down the hall to their office.
"I'd say a good night's sleep is in order. We can start fresh tomorrow. I have Research going through the files of every agency they can contact. I can't believe that this is the first time something like this has come up."
They entered their office. Napoleon grabbed his coat and started to hand Illya his.
"No, on second thought I think I'll stay for awhile. There's a couple of leads I'd like to follow."
"Leads?" Napoleon asked. "What leads?"
"Nothing substantial, but it might be worth a look."
"Do you want me to stay?"
Illya shook his head. "You go on home. I won't be staying that long, anyway."
"Okay, if you say so." Napoleon shrugged into his coat. "See you in the morning."
"Illya sat at his desk, opened the top file and started reading.
*****
"Would you like more coffee, Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya looked up. Sarah, Napoleon's secretary, walked in with a tray in her hands. He pushed some of the files aside and signaled for her to set the tray down.
"I didn't realize anyone else was still here."
"Oh, there's always someone here," she responded as she filled his cup." I'm usually gone, but I traded shifts with Olivia. She needed the afternoon off to order her wedding dress."
"I see." He didn't, not knowing who Olivia was, but it seemed the right response.
Sarah looked around. "Isn't Mr. Solo with you?"
Illya smiled. He'd thought Sarah immune to his partner's charms. Apparently not. "No, he went home some time ago. I just wanted to see if I could find something that would help in the capture of our quarry."
"You mean the shape-shifter?"
Illya gave her a wry look. "Is there nothing the secretarial pool doesn't know about?"
Sarah chuckled. "Not much. Especially when it's something as fascinating as this. I remember my grandmother talking about selkies when I was a kid. I never thought anything like that was actually possible."
"I'm not sure it is. But whatever this thing is, we would prefer to capture it."
"And if you can't?"
Illya shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Sarah shivered. "It's frightening, knowing that it could come at you as the person you love the most. I certainly wouldn't want to cross it."
"I understand that it's looking for information, rather than for revenge."
"That's strange, don't you think? If I had the power to take the form of anyone I wanted, I wouldn't think that money would be a problem."
Illya eyes widened and then he began to quickly flip through the stack of files, finally pulling out one from the bottom. He opened it up and started scanning through the information. After a moment he pulled out another and started reading again. He went through the entire pile before setting them aside.
"It appears that you may be on to something, Sarah. It isn't obvious, each file gives the company a slightly different name; some are the same name, but in a different language. But it seems that the nine scientists have more than this project in common. They recently created a company that used eminent domain to take land that belonged to a," he opened the file again. "Thomas Miller. Apparently, the land had been in his family for generations. He lost everything."
"Why would they do that?"
"I don't know, but I can guess. The land is secluded enough for whatever is was they were trying to create, and, eventually, produce. Yet close enough to corridors of power."
"So, what better way to get back, than to threaten someone's security clearance, as well as calling your sanity into question? Not to mention throw a monkey wrench into their plans for a new chemical weapon. They'd be ruined."
Illya stood. "I just thought of something. If this man, Miller, would go to such extremes against those who stole his land, what would he do to someone who had shot him?" He pulled out his communicator and tried to raise Napoleon. When he got no response, he shrugged into his coat and was out the door and running down the corridor before Sarah could respond.
*****
Napoleon slouched on his couch, a snifter of brandy balanced on his chest. Wasn't it the way of it? He had hardly been able to keep his eyes open, but once home he couldn't keep them closed. He sat in the dark, listening to the silence.
He took a drink, and went back to his musings. He couldn't get that thing out of his mind. The horror if its change from one thing to another, the look of pure hate on its face. He rubbed his forehead, trying to erase the beginnings of a headache.
He really should go to bed. Maybe once under the covers he'd be able to relax. It was times like these that he wished there was someone in his life to share his life. Maybe he should have been willing to talk about it with Illya. But he didn't think that his partner would understand. Hell, he didn't understand it himself.
He was grateful for the knock on the door that interrupted his thoughts. He got up and finished his drink, turning on the lights as he approached the door. He looked through the peephole. It was Illya.
"Couldn't stay away, huh?" Napoleon asked as he motioned Illya into the apartment and closed the door behind him. "What's up?"
Illya looked around the room. "Are you alone?"
"Yeah, why?"
Illya approached him and placed his hands on each side of Napoleon's face.
Napoleon's world went out of kilter, and his vision warped. His knees weakened, and he felt Illya moving him into the bedroom. He tried to speak, to pull away, but his body wasn't responding. He found himself falling onto the bed. Illya climbed up on top of him, his knees to each side of Napoleon's body. He grabbed Napoleon under the arms and pulled him further up the bed.
"You've wanted this, haven't you?" Illya smirked, which set off even more alarms in Napoleon's head. Illya never smirked.
"I know you do. It's right there." He touched a finger on Napoleon's forehead. "I'm surprised no one else has seen it," Illya said, while his hands were busy with the button of Napoleon's trousers. Then he unzipped them and tugged them down until they banded Napoleon's thighs. His underwear soon followed.
"And, look," Illya gleefully grabbed hold of Napoleon's cock, which swelled in his hand. He began stroking the organ, his eyes locked with Napoleon's.
This couldn't be happening, Napoleon's thoughts a distressed jumble. He couldn't think straight, yet his body seemed to have a mind of its own as his hips began to slowly rise and fall. Dear god, he wanted this, but at the same time his mind screamed for it to stop.
His eyes closed as he felt Illya's hand burrow between his legs. Then he felt the finger push into his anus; he keened out his distressed arousal. He felt Illya's weight shift, and then there was a hand around his throat.
Napoleon tried to push it away, but it was getting harder to breathe.
"Did you think you would get what you wanted?" Illya asked. "Did you think you wouldn't pay for what you did?"
What had he done? He couldn't remember, couldn't think. The hand around his throat tightening, and things were going dark. Then the pressure was gone, and he heard the sound of several shots before he passed out.
He didn't think that it was too long before he was able to hear again, to know himself again.
"Napoleon, wake up."
Hands on his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position. Napoleon's eyes struggled open. Illya was still here, though, oddly, he was wearing something different. Why would he change his clothes? Napoleon looked down. His trousers were still around his thighs. He tried to pull them up.
"You're going to have to stand up first," Illya said. He got Napoleon to his feet and then, business-like, pulled his underwear and trousers back up. "There," he proclaimed as Napoleon's trousers zipped and buttoned.
Napoleon tried to shake the fog away. "What happened?"
"That happened." Illya motioned to the side of the bed.
Someone, or something lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. There was no head.
"Is that…?"
"What's left of it. It wouldn't stop trying to get to me. Only death could stop it."
Napoleon sat shakily back down on the bed. He touched his forehead. "I feel…."
"You will for awhile. Come." Illya gently pulled Napoleon to his feet again. "I've called for clean-up, but we need to get you to Medical."
Napoleon, still unsteady on his feet, let Illya lead him from the apartment. Events were coalescing in his mind. A shiver ran up his spine; he would give anything to forget them.
*****
"Just wait a minute," Illya said as he unlocked the door.
"I'm fine. I think I can walk through my own door." Napoleon picked up his overnight bag. "See, I can even carry my own luggage."
Illya frowned, but let Napoleon walk the rest of the way into the apartment on his own.
Napoleon dropped the bag next to the couch and then lowered himself onto it. "It's good to be home."
"You were only gone two days."
"Yeah, but when it's in Medical, it seems a lot longer."
Illya chuckled. "I agree. Can I get you anything?"
"A glass of water would be nice."
"Water?"
"Yeah." Napoleon pulled a pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and shook it at Illya. "No alcohol as long as I'm on these."
Illya went for the water, and when he returned sat on the couch next to Napoleon. "How is your throat?"
Napoleon rubbed at the injured skin. "It could be worse. I have you to thank for that."
"You would have done the same."
"How did Mr. Waverly take you killing it?"
"Rather well, actually. Once I explained to him that I did try not to. There wasn't anything else I could have done, which is a shame. I don't condone what the man did, but I can understand to a degree why he did it."
"There are no other family members?" Napoleon asked.
"Not that we could find. As far as we know, he was the last of his family. The rest are all dead. If they were like Miller, they're out of our reach."
"It's probably a good thing. Whether they would have done what he did, they would have always been under suspicion."
"There will be an autopsy," Illya added. "With luck, they'll find something that's different, something that will tell us how he was able to do what he did. If not, he'll be given a decent burial, somewhere secluded, where he'll be forgotten. Rather ironic, isn't it?"
"I'd certainly like to forget."
Illya looked down for a moment, hesitating before he spoke. "I need to ask you something, and I'd appreciate an honest answer."
"All right."
"Do you remember that night? All of it?"
Napoleon didn't answer at first. When he did, Illya could tell that it would be the truth.
"I didn't at first. As my mind cleared, everything seemed to go with it. But while I was in Medical, I had a lot of time to try to remember. It didn't come back all at once; it was bits and pieces that I had to fit together. But, yes, eventually I remembered everything."
"So you remember what was going on when I got here."
Napoleon shook his head. "Illya, don't give it more weight than it deserves."
"Don't, just don't." Illya shot to his feet. "I knew you would do this. Even though you told me that you'd be honest."
Napoleon gave him a pleading look. "Just sit, please."
Illya almost walked out, but the look on Napoleon's face changed his mind. He sat back down.
"What I meant was, that what was happening, it was happening with a monster, and every time I think about it I get sick to my stomach. It was…it was the closest thing to a rape that I've ever experienced." He shook his head. "It was rape. It was against my will, but against my will with it. Do you understand?"
"I think so. But if it had been me?"
Napoleon took Illya's hands in his. "Then it would have been everything I've ever wanted."
"Oh, Napoleon." Illya scooted over so that he was sitting close to his friend. He placed his hands on Napoleon's face. He didn't expect Napoleon's abrupt withdrawal.
"I'm sorry," Napoleon whispered. "But that was the way it started, how that thing took hold of my mind."
Illya slowly brought his hands up again, waiting until Napoleon nodded before he put them back on Napoleon's face. Just as slowly, he leaned forward and gently kissed Napoleon on the lips. It was only a few seconds before he felt Napoleon's mouth open and allow Illya's tongue to slip inside.
The kiss went on for a long time. Illya had dreamed of this moment for far too long to not go slow. When they finally broke apart, Illya stood, pulling Napoleon to his feet. He motioned toward the bedroom.
He'd always known that his friend was courageous, but he knew it had taken all of Napoleon's courage to nod and then allow Illya to guide him down the hall and into the room.
Slowly, he undressed Napoleon and then himself. He climbed on the bed, and then gestured for his friend to climb on top of him. As Napoleon settled, Illya gently brought his arms up and around Napoleon's shoulders. Then he waited. Waited for the almost imperceptible movement of Napoleon's body against his. A movement that slowly grew in intensity, until their bodies were rocking together.
Illya lay impassive. This was for Napoleon. In time, they would share their passion, but right now Illya was more than content to just hold Napoleon in his arms. He could hear Napoleon's breath come in gasps as his cock slid against Illya's. When he came, it was with a cry.
Illya lay under his friend until Napoleon's body stopped shaking. He ran his hand down one arm, lightly caressing. "Are you all right?"
After almost a minute, Napoleon nodded and then slid off of Illya. He nestled his body up against Illya's and brought himself up on an elbow. The lines of tension that Illya had noticed these last couple of days were gone.
"Was that okay?"
Napoleon nodded, the tears drying on his face. "More than okay. I don't know when I'll be truly over it, but I know I'll always have you there to help me along the way."
Illya smiled and gave Napoleon another kiss. "You hungry?"
Napoleon laughed. It was a good sound.
Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon/Illya
Word Count: 5,441
Summary: Something is stalking a group of scientists. But why, and how?
Written for Spoke Me 2022.
"Why did you go with him?" The UNCLE agent asked again.
"I swear, I thought he was my husband." The woman put her head down on the table and started sobbing. "I thought he was my husband."
Napoleon gave the woman on the other side of the glass a last look before turning to his partner. "What do you think?"
Illya, second only to Napoleon in UNCLE's agent hierarchy, shrugged. "She seems sincere enough. Could it have been a disguise?"
"That would have to be some disguise." Napoleon opened the file in his hand. "According to this, her husband was 6'3"."
"So they found someone tall."
"Still, it's hard to imagine that she could be fooled. She's a well known biologist, not someone lacking in brains. And to be fooled into thinking that someone was her dead husband…"
"Yes, I've read some of her publications." Illya shook his head. "It still doesn't answer the question as to why she handed over such sensitive information. Husband or not, he hadn't been cleared. Didn't she wonder why?"
"Apparently not. Or he had a plausible answer for her. Either way, she's not the first." Napoleon counted off the folders in his arms. "There's been one, two, three….seven people so far who are connected to the program that have been visited by dead loved ones."
"Someone is going to a lot of trouble to gain information regarding one of the U.S. government's attempts at producing a new chemical weapon."
"Indeed." Napoleon tilted his head toward the hallway. " Come on. Mr. Waverly wants us to study these folders, find something in them that might gives us a clue as to who's behind the thefts."
Illya followed his partner down the hall and to their shared office. Once inside, Napoleon handed him four of the folders. Then, he turned back to his desk and gave him one more.
Illya gave him a look.
"It's one of the two members who haven't been contacted yet."
"Yet somehow I have still ended up with more."
Napoleon grinned. "One of us has to go get lunch." He turned and grabbed his coat for the hat rack near the door. "I promise not to be long."
Illya walked to his desk and sat down. He opened the top folder and began to read. He was deep into the second file when Napoleon returned.
"Here's your Reuben." Napoleon handed over the sandwich before walking over to his own desk. "Any luck?"
"Not really." Illya closed the file, and unwrapped his sandwich. "I still don't see how their assailant knew about their loss of a love one, or how he convinced them to hand over the secret information."
Napoleon nodded and then opened the top file on his desk. They both ate while perusing the files. Two hours later, they both closed the last file.
"Well, that was a colossal waste of time," Napoleon remarked as he leaned back in his chair. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to going home.
"There are the two members of the program who have not yet been visited; since both live in New York, it should be easy enough to contact them."
"Aren't they already in protective custody?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes, but I still think we should seek them out. We could each visit one, and hopefully get a lead."
"Fine." Napoleon said as he stood up. "We can go first thing in the morning, then meet here."
Illya closed the last file and then looked at his watch. "We still might have time to do it tonight."
Napoleon sighed. "Illya, it's almost midnight. Most people are already in bed."
"Very well," Illya responded, with a note of resignation.
Napoleon got their coats while Illya cleared off his desk. He turned off the light as they walked out the door. "How about a beer?"
*****
Illya took another swig from his beer, and then grabbed a handful of the pretzel and nut mix from the bowl on the table. That was one thing he liked about going with Napoleon for a drink. All the places his partner frequented always had something for you to eat.
They were sitting in a booth along the back wall, only one side of it open to the rest of the room. They both faced toward the door.
Napoleon took a drink before setting his beer bottle down. "Pretty woman."
Illya followed his graze. A shapely blonde had just entered the establishment. He frowned. Well, he knew when it was time to make an exit. He finished off his beer and stood.
"Where you going?"
"I…I assumed you were going to try to make the woman's acquaintance."
"No, sit down." Napoleon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back onto his seat. "She's pretty, but I'm too tired to make the effort."
Illya's eyebrows rose. "You? Too tired? Since when?"
Napoleon laughed. "Since I turned thirty-five, I think." He finished off his beer and then motioned toward the bar for two more. "Besides, I'm perfectly content where I am."
"Very well, as long as you're buying."
Napoleon focused on his empty bottle, carefully pulling off its label. "You haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
Just then the bartender approached their table with their order. Napoleon waited until he had moved off before answering. "That I haven't been going out as much as I used to, that I go straight home after work."
Illya thought it over. "I suppose I assumed that you were going home to get ready for a date."
"No." He paused. "No. I think I'm just getting tired of it all."
"You mean working for UNCLE?" Illya asked, alarmed.
"Work is fine. It's the rest of my life that's stuck." He shrugged, and took a large slug of beer.
"Stuck? Stuck how?"
Napoleon waved him off. "It's nothing. I guess I'm just in a reflective mood."
They sat in silence, each locked in his own thoughts. Illya hadn't like the way their conversation had ended, but he knew better than to push. It was the easiest way to rouse Napoleon's anger. He would have to wait until his friend was ready to tell him what was going on with him, though he was afraid that he already knew.
Napoleon suddenly stood and threw a ten dollar bill on the table. "Guess I should be getting home. Want to share a cab?"
"No, I think I'll stick around here for awhile. Listen to the music."
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Illya watched as Napoleon walked away and out the door. He sipped his beer while pondering what his future held in store if Napoleon decided to wed, because that's what it had sounded like to Illya. That he was tired of playing the game, going out with a different woman, two, three times a week.
He couldn't imagine UNCLE without Napoleon, though going back home was out of the question. He'd gotten too used to the freedoms the West offered. Perhaps he would just disappear into this wide-open country. There were plenty of places to hide, away from UNCLE, away from Napoleon.
Away from Napoleon. The words left a sick feeling in his stomach. At least while they were partners he could pretend that they were more than that. Pretend that Napoleon loved him the way he loved Napoleon.
He wondered if what he felt was close to what those people who'd had their loved ones reappear felt. To suddenly have what you'd longed for for so long.
Illya polished off his beer and stood up. He left the bar and started walking. Maybe the night air would clear his head of its fantasies, though so many long walks had never done the trick. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and started home.
*****
Illya drove to the university first thing in the morning. Classes hadn't started, so while the teachers were there, the students weren't. He easily found a parking spot, though he couldn't help but yawn as he pulled the car into it. It had been a difficult night.
He locked the car, noting the two agents standing guard at the building doors. He recognized both, but still flashed his ID as he entered the building. Dr. Salvadore's office was on the second floor; Illya chose the stairs.
He found the room easily enough. He stood in the doorway and studied the layout. Only one entrance, but with a bank of windows that might be a second way in. At the front of the room he saw a man sitting behind the desk, deep into his work.
"Dr. Salvadore?" Illya asked as he approached.
The man looked up. "Yes, what is it?"
"I'm from U.N.C.L.E., Illya Kuryakin. I need to ask you some questions-"
"Sit done, young man, and let me finish this. It will only take a few minutes."
Illya gave the room a second look as Dr. Salvadore finished up. The place reminded him of his time at Cambridge; the professor in tweed, with a beard shot with gray.
"Very well," the doctor said as he pushed his papers away. "What can I do for you?"
"It's to do with your colleagues, the ones from the government project."
"Ah, yes, I've heard about that brouhaha. Strange, very strange."
"You haven't been approached by someone seemingly from your past?"
The man sat back with a wry chuckle. "It would be very difficult, as there are no people from my past. Not dead ones, in any event."
"No one? That's hard to imagine."
"But true. I lost both parents during the Great War. If there was any family, I never knew about them. And I've never been married, so no children. So you see, Mr. Kuryakin, I am perfectly safe."
Maybe safe, but what a lonely life, Illya thought.
The professor leaned forward placed his crossed arms on the desk. "I can imagine what you're thinking. But my work has been my life, and it's been enough for me."
Illya stood. "Then I will leave you to it. But the two guards will remain. In fact, I'm going to have one of them come up here. You may feel that you're safe, but this man seems to be able to delve into people's minds."
"Do what feel you must," Dr. Salvadore said as he waved Illya away. "But I must return to my work."
Illya left, taking the stairs down and then sending one of the agents up to more closely guard the doctor. If what Dr. Salvadore said was true, he was probably safe. Illya didn't know whether to feel relief or pity.
*****
Napoleon pulled into the parking lot in front of the high end apartment building. Jacob Hoffman apparently had done well for himself. He didn't think chemistry paid so well.
He found a parking spot right in from of the building. He could see two agents at the front doors in his rearview mirror. Considering how things had gone so far, he hoped there were more inside.
Getting out of the car, he scanned the general area. Everything looked good, which automatically put him on edge. Always think the worst.
"May I help you?" One of the agents asked as Napoleon approached the doors.
Napoleon showed him his ID and saw the agent relax. "Keep your guard up…"
"Agent Wilding, sir, yes, sir."
Inside, another three agents stood near the elevator bank and emergency stairway. Napoleon recognized one of them. "Hank, good to see you."
A tall, lanky, blond with a crewcut turned around. "Napoleon, as I live and breath. I thought guard detail was beneath you."
"I wanted to talk to Mr. Hoffman. Everything going okay?"
"Yeah, Jerry went up about fifteen minutes ago to spell Agent Spelling, here." He pointed to one of the other agents who nodded at Napoleon. "And the guys outside are checking around the entire building every ten minutes."
"I guess I'll go up, then. Fifth floor, right?"
"Apartment 502. You can't miss it. It's the first one on your right."
Napoleon pushed for the elevator, giving the place another look as he waited. Then he noticed Agent Wilding hurrying in, a look of sorrow mixed with unease on his face. "We just found Jerry's body around the back of the building."
"That's not possible," Hank responded, as he pushed passed him and out the door.
Napoleon didn't wait. He ran toward the stairwell, shouting instructions behind him. "One of you follow me, the rest stay here and make sure no one leaves the building." He threw open the stairwell door and raced up the steps. He could hear one of the other agents pounding up behind him, but he didn't slow down. On the fifth floor, he charged into the apartment.
He could hear a voice coming from one of the bedrooms. Napoleon readied his gun has he made his way over. He knew that he would see Jerry, or a duplicate of Jerry, in the room. But he was wrong. Out on the balcony, he saw a young woman standing in front of Hoffman, her hands on the sides of his head. Napoleon didn't hesitate. He shot.
The woman let out a shriek as the bullet entered her upper arm. As she turned toward Napoleon her face began to contort, becoming neither woman or man, but something in-between, something malevolent. Napoleon grimaced and took aim again. He managed to shoot it in the chest before the thing grabbed the unresponsive Hoffman. Using him as shield, it suddenly turned and attempted to push the man off the balcony.
Napoleon rushed over, catching Hoffman just in time, but losing his prey as the thing ran passed him and out of the apartment.
"Hoffman, Hoffman, are you okay?" Napoleon shook the man, who slowly seemed to be coming to himself.
"Napoleon, you in here?"
"In here," Napoleon shouted.
Spelling walked in and came out onto the balcony. "Is he okay?"
"I think so. Hoffman?" He gently shook the man again.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Hoffman looked around. "Where is Lisa?"
"Lisa? Your daughter?" Napoleon asked. From the file he knew that she had been the great loss of Hoffman's life.
"Yes, she was right here. She wanted something." Hoffman rubbed his forehead. "I forget what."
"She wasn't here, sir. It was all a trick."
Hoffman's face crumpled. "I should have known. But she seemed so real."
"Come on, we'll take you to the hospital to be checked out." Napoleon looked at Spelling. "Did you see anyone coming up?"
"No, not on the stairwell. And if anyone tries using the elevators, they'll be stopped downstairs."
The two agents helped a stunned and confused Hoffman out of the apartment and to the elevators. Napoleon thought he could hear the man crying as the elevator descended. As the doors opened, five other agents stood with guns drawn.
"Can one of you call for an ambulance? I don't think there's any lasting affect, but I think Dr. Hoffman should be seen, anyway." Napoleon gave a puzzled look. "What's the matter?"
Without dropping his gun, Hank responded. "Napoleon, you just came down ten minutes ago."
*****
Mr. Waverly spun the table top around, the sparse file coming around to Napoleon and Illya. The three men sat around the large table in Waverly's office. It was coming onto midnight, yet the day wasn't over for the three men.
"As you may imagine, we don't have a great deal of information regarding," Mr. Waverly made a pained expression. "Shape shifters."
Illya picked up the file. He opened it and began leafing through the few pages within. "Though they appear in both the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Iliad, there doesn't seem to have been any around lately. Until now, of course."
"I wouldn't think that it would be that hard to find. I shot it twice," Napoleon said.
"That may not matter. According to legend, shapeshifters can heal very fast and completely. The agents didn't see any blood on the fake Napoleon, so it probably had already regenerated. It also implies that its ‘clothes' are part of its make-up."
"The other agents said it was wearing the exact same thing that I was." Napoleon gave a quick shudder. "They weren't going to let me go at first, not sure if I was the real Napoleon. If it hadn't been for Hank verifying me…"
"How is he doing?" Illya asked.
"As well as can be expected after losing his partner." Napoleon shook his head and took the file. "So, how do we kill it?"
"I think the goal is to capture it, Mr. Solo," Waverly admonished.
"How, sir?" Napoleon asked. "I shot it twice, the second time dead center. It barely slowed it down, and then only for less than a minute."
"Napoleon is right, sir," Illya interjected. "We wouldn't be able to hold it. And, maybe, the only way to kill it is to either decapitate it, or shoot it in the heart." He turned to Napoleon. " So you may have almost managed it. I few inches to the left, and our troubles might have already been over."
"Maybe," Napoleon said. "But maybe not. We don't know if either way will work."
"Well, gentlemen, you'll have to come up with something. Both Dr. Hoffman and Mr, Kuryakin's charge, Dr. Salvadore, are guests of UNCLE now. They're under 24 hour surveillance in one of the suites. They will stay here until you manage to deal with…with whatever this thing is."
"Yes, sir," they both responded before standing up and exiting the room.
"So, now what?" Napoleon asked, as they walked down the hall to their office.
"I'd say a good night's sleep is in order. We can start fresh tomorrow. I have Research going through the files of every agency they can contact. I can't believe that this is the first time something like this has come up."
They entered their office. Napoleon grabbed his coat and started to hand Illya his.
"No, on second thought I think I'll stay for awhile. There's a couple of leads I'd like to follow."
"Leads?" Napoleon asked. "What leads?"
"Nothing substantial, but it might be worth a look."
"Do you want me to stay?"
Illya shook his head. "You go on home. I won't be staying that long, anyway."
"Okay, if you say so." Napoleon shrugged into his coat. "See you in the morning."
"Illya sat at his desk, opened the top file and started reading.
*****
"Would you like more coffee, Mr. Kuryakin?"
Illya looked up. Sarah, Napoleon's secretary, walked in with a tray in her hands. He pushed some of the files aside and signaled for her to set the tray down.
"I didn't realize anyone else was still here."
"Oh, there's always someone here," she responded as she filled his cup." I'm usually gone, but I traded shifts with Olivia. She needed the afternoon off to order her wedding dress."
"I see." He didn't, not knowing who Olivia was, but it seemed the right response.
Sarah looked around. "Isn't Mr. Solo with you?"
Illya smiled. He'd thought Sarah immune to his partner's charms. Apparently not. "No, he went home some time ago. I just wanted to see if I could find something that would help in the capture of our quarry."
"You mean the shape-shifter?"
Illya gave her a wry look. "Is there nothing the secretarial pool doesn't know about?"
Sarah chuckled. "Not much. Especially when it's something as fascinating as this. I remember my grandmother talking about selkies when I was a kid. I never thought anything like that was actually possible."
"I'm not sure it is. But whatever this thing is, we would prefer to capture it."
"And if you can't?"
Illya shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Sarah shivered. "It's frightening, knowing that it could come at you as the person you love the most. I certainly wouldn't want to cross it."
"I understand that it's looking for information, rather than for revenge."
"That's strange, don't you think? If I had the power to take the form of anyone I wanted, I wouldn't think that money would be a problem."
Illya eyes widened and then he began to quickly flip through the stack of files, finally pulling out one from the bottom. He opened it up and started scanning through the information. After a moment he pulled out another and started reading again. He went through the entire pile before setting them aside.
"It appears that you may be on to something, Sarah. It isn't obvious, each file gives the company a slightly different name; some are the same name, but in a different language. But it seems that the nine scientists have more than this project in common. They recently created a company that used eminent domain to take land that belonged to a," he opened the file again. "Thomas Miller. Apparently, the land had been in his family for generations. He lost everything."
"Why would they do that?"
"I don't know, but I can guess. The land is secluded enough for whatever is was they were trying to create, and, eventually, produce. Yet close enough to corridors of power."
"So, what better way to get back, than to threaten someone's security clearance, as well as calling your sanity into question? Not to mention throw a monkey wrench into their plans for a new chemical weapon. They'd be ruined."
Illya stood. "I just thought of something. If this man, Miller, would go to such extremes against those who stole his land, what would he do to someone who had shot him?" He pulled out his communicator and tried to raise Napoleon. When he got no response, he shrugged into his coat and was out the door and running down the corridor before Sarah could respond.
*****
Napoleon slouched on his couch, a snifter of brandy balanced on his chest. Wasn't it the way of it? He had hardly been able to keep his eyes open, but once home he couldn't keep them closed. He sat in the dark, listening to the silence.
He took a drink, and went back to his musings. He couldn't get that thing out of his mind. The horror if its change from one thing to another, the look of pure hate on its face. He rubbed his forehead, trying to erase the beginnings of a headache.
He really should go to bed. Maybe once under the covers he'd be able to relax. It was times like these that he wished there was someone in his life to share his life. Maybe he should have been willing to talk about it with Illya. But he didn't think that his partner would understand. Hell, he didn't understand it himself.
He was grateful for the knock on the door that interrupted his thoughts. He got up and finished his drink, turning on the lights as he approached the door. He looked through the peephole. It was Illya.
"Couldn't stay away, huh?" Napoleon asked as he motioned Illya into the apartment and closed the door behind him. "What's up?"
Illya looked around the room. "Are you alone?"
"Yeah, why?"
Illya approached him and placed his hands on each side of Napoleon's face.
Napoleon's world went out of kilter, and his vision warped. His knees weakened, and he felt Illya moving him into the bedroom. He tried to speak, to pull away, but his body wasn't responding. He found himself falling onto the bed. Illya climbed up on top of him, his knees to each side of Napoleon's body. He grabbed Napoleon under the arms and pulled him further up the bed.
"You've wanted this, haven't you?" Illya smirked, which set off even more alarms in Napoleon's head. Illya never smirked.
"I know you do. It's right there." He touched a finger on Napoleon's forehead. "I'm surprised no one else has seen it," Illya said, while his hands were busy with the button of Napoleon's trousers. Then he unzipped them and tugged them down until they banded Napoleon's thighs. His underwear soon followed.
"And, look," Illya gleefully grabbed hold of Napoleon's cock, which swelled in his hand. He began stroking the organ, his eyes locked with Napoleon's.
This couldn't be happening, Napoleon's thoughts a distressed jumble. He couldn't think straight, yet his body seemed to have a mind of its own as his hips began to slowly rise and fall. Dear god, he wanted this, but at the same time his mind screamed for it to stop.
His eyes closed as he felt Illya's hand burrow between his legs. Then he felt the finger push into his anus; he keened out his distressed arousal. He felt Illya's weight shift, and then there was a hand around his throat.
Napoleon tried to push it away, but it was getting harder to breathe.
"Did you think you would get what you wanted?" Illya asked. "Did you think you wouldn't pay for what you did?"
What had he done? He couldn't remember, couldn't think. The hand around his throat tightening, and things were going dark. Then the pressure was gone, and he heard the sound of several shots before he passed out.
He didn't think that it was too long before he was able to hear again, to know himself again.
"Napoleon, wake up."
Hands on his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position. Napoleon's eyes struggled open. Illya was still here, though, oddly, he was wearing something different. Why would he change his clothes? Napoleon looked down. His trousers were still around his thighs. He tried to pull them up.
"You're going to have to stand up first," Illya said. He got Napoleon to his feet and then, business-like, pulled his underwear and trousers back up. "There," he proclaimed as Napoleon's trousers zipped and buttoned.
Napoleon tried to shake the fog away. "What happened?"
"That happened." Illya motioned to the side of the bed.
Someone, or something lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. There was no head.
"Is that…?"
"What's left of it. It wouldn't stop trying to get to me. Only death could stop it."
Napoleon sat shakily back down on the bed. He touched his forehead. "I feel…."
"You will for awhile. Come." Illya gently pulled Napoleon to his feet again. "I've called for clean-up, but we need to get you to Medical."
Napoleon, still unsteady on his feet, let Illya lead him from the apartment. Events were coalescing in his mind. A shiver ran up his spine; he would give anything to forget them.
*****
"Just wait a minute," Illya said as he unlocked the door.
"I'm fine. I think I can walk through my own door." Napoleon picked up his overnight bag. "See, I can even carry my own luggage."
Illya frowned, but let Napoleon walk the rest of the way into the apartment on his own.
Napoleon dropped the bag next to the couch and then lowered himself onto it. "It's good to be home."
"You were only gone two days."
"Yeah, but when it's in Medical, it seems a lot longer."
Illya chuckled. "I agree. Can I get you anything?"
"A glass of water would be nice."
"Water?"
"Yeah." Napoleon pulled a pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and shook it at Illya. "No alcohol as long as I'm on these."
Illya went for the water, and when he returned sat on the couch next to Napoleon. "How is your throat?"
Napoleon rubbed at the injured skin. "It could be worse. I have you to thank for that."
"You would have done the same."
"How did Mr. Waverly take you killing it?"
"Rather well, actually. Once I explained to him that I did try not to. There wasn't anything else I could have done, which is a shame. I don't condone what the man did, but I can understand to a degree why he did it."
"There are no other family members?" Napoleon asked.
"Not that we could find. As far as we know, he was the last of his family. The rest are all dead. If they were like Miller, they're out of our reach."
"It's probably a good thing. Whether they would have done what he did, they would have always been under suspicion."
"There will be an autopsy," Illya added. "With luck, they'll find something that's different, something that will tell us how he was able to do what he did. If not, he'll be given a decent burial, somewhere secluded, where he'll be forgotten. Rather ironic, isn't it?"
"I'd certainly like to forget."
Illya looked down for a moment, hesitating before he spoke. "I need to ask you something, and I'd appreciate an honest answer."
"All right."
"Do you remember that night? All of it?"
Napoleon didn't answer at first. When he did, Illya could tell that it would be the truth.
"I didn't at first. As my mind cleared, everything seemed to go with it. But while I was in Medical, I had a lot of time to try to remember. It didn't come back all at once; it was bits and pieces that I had to fit together. But, yes, eventually I remembered everything."
"So you remember what was going on when I got here."
Napoleon shook his head. "Illya, don't give it more weight than it deserves."
"Don't, just don't." Illya shot to his feet. "I knew you would do this. Even though you told me that you'd be honest."
Napoleon gave him a pleading look. "Just sit, please."
Illya almost walked out, but the look on Napoleon's face changed his mind. He sat back down.
"What I meant was, that what was happening, it was happening with a monster, and every time I think about it I get sick to my stomach. It was…it was the closest thing to a rape that I've ever experienced." He shook his head. "It was rape. It was against my will, but against my will with it. Do you understand?"
"I think so. But if it had been me?"
Napoleon took Illya's hands in his. "Then it would have been everything I've ever wanted."
"Oh, Napoleon." Illya scooted over so that he was sitting close to his friend. He placed his hands on Napoleon's face. He didn't expect Napoleon's abrupt withdrawal.
"I'm sorry," Napoleon whispered. "But that was the way it started, how that thing took hold of my mind."
Illya slowly brought his hands up again, waiting until Napoleon nodded before he put them back on Napoleon's face. Just as slowly, he leaned forward and gently kissed Napoleon on the lips. It was only a few seconds before he felt Napoleon's mouth open and allow Illya's tongue to slip inside.
The kiss went on for a long time. Illya had dreamed of this moment for far too long to not go slow. When they finally broke apart, Illya stood, pulling Napoleon to his feet. He motioned toward the bedroom.
He'd always known that his friend was courageous, but he knew it had taken all of Napoleon's courage to nod and then allow Illya to guide him down the hall and into the room.
Slowly, he undressed Napoleon and then himself. He climbed on the bed, and then gestured for his friend to climb on top of him. As Napoleon settled, Illya gently brought his arms up and around Napoleon's shoulders. Then he waited. Waited for the almost imperceptible movement of Napoleon's body against his. A movement that slowly grew in intensity, until their bodies were rocking together.
Illya lay impassive. This was for Napoleon. In time, they would share their passion, but right now Illya was more than content to just hold Napoleon in his arms. He could hear Napoleon's breath come in gasps as his cock slid against Illya's. When he came, it was with a cry.
Illya lay under his friend until Napoleon's body stopped shaking. He ran his hand down one arm, lightly caressing. "Are you all right?"
After almost a minute, Napoleon nodded and then slid off of Illya. He nestled his body up against Illya's and brought himself up on an elbow. The lines of tension that Illya had noticed these last couple of days were gone.
"Was that okay?"
Napoleon nodded, the tears drying on his face. "More than okay. I don't know when I'll be truly over it, but I know I'll always have you there to help me along the way."
Illya smiled and gave Napoleon another kiss. "You hungry?"
Napoleon laughed. It was a good sound.