Pulling away from Napoleon, Illya reached into his pocket for his communicator. Clearing his throat first. "Kuryakin here." He said slightly breathless.

"Mr. Kuryakin, where is here?" come the voice of his superior.

"My apartment, sir." Napoleon was still leaning against his chest and he felt no desire to remove him.

A sigh came over his pen. "I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but it appears Mr. Solo's body has disappeared. You wouldn't by any chance know anything about that would you?" Waverly's voice made it plain that he suspected something of the kind.

Napoleon took hold of the hand holding the communicator and pulled it to him. "I'm here, sir."

There was a pause on the line and Napoleon had a wish that he could see Mr. Waverly's face. "I take it you're not dead." Mr. Waverly said dryly. Not you're alive, but you're not dead. "I'll have someone from medical over there in twenty minutes."

Illya took back the pen. "Sir, Napoleon refused to see medical."

"Hummph," Mr. Waverly considered the fact that Napoleon had arrived in medical and been pronounced dead and his being alive now. "I see your point. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed were you are now, in Mr. Kuryakin's capable hands. I'll contact a doctor I know…not U.N.C.L.E.- and get back to you. Waverly out."

Napoleon turned in Illya's arms and looked up at him with a wide smile, "You heard the man." He reached up to pull Illya's head down for another kiss.

When they finally broke for air Illya shook his head. "We shouldn't be doing this. What would Mr. Waverly say?"

"I know." Napoleon whispered softly as Illya's lips came down again to claim his. "We could always say we are working on Russian American relations."

"Napoleon!!" Illya pushed him away and tried not to smile. "This is not very comfortable, shall we adjourn to my bedroom?"

They entered Illya's rather stark bedroom and Napoleon looked around his face showing distaste.

"Napoleon, I know this is not the Ritz, but I hadn't really planned that we…"

"I know, it's just that some silk sheets, a couple of fluffy pillows would be nice."

Illya's response was to throw his partner on the bed and strip him of all his clothing. Holding Napoleon's arms down above his head he said menacingly, "Decadent American. Remember this could be a dark and dingy THRUSH cell."

Napoleon trying very hard not to smile, "Sounds interesting, remind me the next time we're trapped in a THRUSH cell." And with a twist he maneuvered his partner under him to return the favor. Soon they were both breathing hard

Napoleon broke away reluctantly, "We need something….do you have any lubricant?" he asked breathlessly.

Illya looked at him indignantly, "No, why would I need."

Napoleon just made a growling sound and scooted off the bed going into the bathroom to raid Illya's medicine cabinet. Toothpaste, deodorant, aspirin, baby oil…..baby oil? With triumphant he grabbed the bottle and headed back to the bed. Illya was lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand watching Napoleons reproach with a soft smile. * Beep*

Not now, Napoleon thought with total frustration, as Illya leaped from the bed in search of his pen. Finally managing to locate it he activated it, "Kuryakin, here."

"Mr. Kuryakin, it took you long enough. I was beginning to worry, I hope nothing is wrong.

"No, sir." Illya glanced at Napoleon and saw him mouth the words, "not yet."

Waverly continued totally unaware of what he had interrupted. "I've manage to get Mr. Solo an appointment with an old friend of mine for 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. Here is the address…"

Illya tried to write the information down but Napoleon had come behind him and was nuzzling his neck making it difficult concentrate. Illya tried to swat him away, managing to push him toward the bed "I have it, sir."

"Very well, Mr. Kuryakin, carry on. Waverly out."

Napoleon lay on the bed looking smug, "You heard the man, Kuryakin, carry on." He said with a lascivious grin.

With a chuckle Illya climbed back onto the bed and took the bottle of oil from Napoleon's hand. "Yes, but you are not well and should not exert yourself" and he proceed to play Napoleon's body like a musical instrument. Napoleon lay back enjoying the sensation of someone else taking the lead.

Eventually he turned Napoleon over on to his stomach and put both pillows under him. Opening the baby oil he coated his fingers. He gently massaged the muscles of Napoleon's rear cheeks than parting them slid one finger into the puckered hole. Napoleon was extremely tight. Leaning closer to him Illya whispered. "Napoleon, you need to relax."

Relax?….the man wants him to relax…how? And then he let his imagination take over.

Before long Illya could feel Napoleon relaxing against his fingers. He positioned himself and before entering him looked down at Napoleon's face. Napoleon had a dreamy look on his face and as Illya took him, he had to ask. "Napoleon, what are you thinking of?" he whispered.

"Augh." His muscles tightened for just a minute as he was pierced, then relaxed again, "Floating on a blue ocean…with a bright blue sky…the color of your eyes." Illya was pumping into him gently. "A white sandy beach..and you…you remove your trunks.

Illya froze "In front of all those people?" shocked at the thought.

Napoleon chuckled, "No, it's a private beach. I come out of the water toward you…." About that time both of them lost all coherent thought as the passion of the moment took them both.

Napoleon slowly came back to awareness and turned over to look at his partner. Then his nose twitched as he noticed the wet and sticky spot he was currently lying in. Getting out of bed gingerly he made his way to the bathroom. That's what he needed a nice warm bath. He filled the tub wishing Illya had bubble bath, and lying back sort of floating away on memories of what they had just done.

Illya came into the bathroom and threw the dirty sheets in a corner, going over he sat on the edge of the tub watching his friend, eyes closed and totally relaxed. He couldn't help himself he had to know, "What are you thinking about now?" he asked softly.

Napoleon opened one eye and then closed it again. "Um a big tub..lots of bubbles." and opening his eye again. "You. Care to join me."

"That tub is much too small, and I fear if I join you we'll be very late for your doctors appointment. I too need to clean up you know."

So with a grunt Napoleon pulled the plug and got out of the tub. "groan."

Illya grabbed hold of him to help. "Does it hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"A little, but this hurt is the kind I could grow to love."

Illya smirked.

Napoleon toweled himself dry and put on the only clothes he had, the sweat suit from yesterday. Illya soon emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, and dressed in his usual black. "We do not have much time."

They drove in silence on the way to see the doctor Mr. Waverly had recommended.