"Well, fellas, it's been fun, but Paris awaits!" Lavinia Brown picked up her case and started for the door. "Don't take this the wrong way, but if you ever need help again, please, don't hesitate *not* to call."

Napoleon smiled and nodded, murmuring a goodbye and stifling the urge to push her out the door. She was nice enough, but after nearly an hour of her cheery voice grating on his strained nerves, he was ready to see her gone. Illya held the door open, bidding her a much more polite goodbye, along with a thank you, before he closed the door behind her.

The two of them were now alone, a situation Napoleon had been greatly anticipating since Illya's little trick had been uncovered. Eyes narrowed, he tracked his partner's movements as Illya crossed the room to the window, checking the street below. "She's gone," he said after a few minutes.

"Good," Napoleon said, rising from the couch.

Illya whipped around, his back to the wall, apparently attuned to the danger in Napoleon's voice. All the better, as far as Napoleon was concerned. He wasn't about to try and hide it. He stalked carefully towards Illya, never once looking away.

"Come now, Napoleon," Illya said with a hint of a smile. "It wasn't such a bad little joke."

"Joke, was it?"

"Yes." Illya paused for a second, then pulled himself up to his full height. Napoleon didn't hide his smirk at the movement, a familiar sign that Illya's self-preservation instincts told him moving away was a good idea, and he'd told them to go to hell. As usual.

Which worked out perfectly for Napoleon. He stopped when he was close enough to feel Illya's body heat through the thin cotton of their shirts. Half a step more and they would be touching; half a step beyond that and they would be plastered against each other.

But not yet.

"You should be grateful to find out that the formula will do Thrush no good."

"Mmm, yes," Napoleon answered, his eyes finally releasing Illya's gaze to travel down to the full, pink lips. "I would've been grateful to know that a few hours ago."

Illya's fingers twitched, brushing against Napoleon's pants, but he made no further movement. "It does your ridiculous ego good to worry about failure every now and then."

"My ridiculous ego?" Napoleon murmured, leaning in, still not touching, his lips so close he could inhale Illya's breath.

"Your ego is the size of New York City." Napoleon continued to stare. "You know I'm right."

"Mmmm...you're right about one thing." At Illya's raised eyebrow, Napoleon smiled. "I like blonds." His hands brushed Illya's arms as he reached up to card his fingers through soft blond hair, pushing it back away from Illya's face. Blue eyes widened as Napoleon's fingertips traced their way down his partner's neck, across his shoulders, down his arms to find Illya's hands. He laced their fingers together before pressing Illya back against the wall and capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.

Illya pressed up against him, whether to get away or get closer, Napoleon wasn't sure. The question was answered seconds later when Illya's legs parted, allowing his growing erection to rub against Napoleon's thigh. At that, Napoleon growled low in his throat, breaking off the kiss and pulling Illya back towards the beds. He dealt with clothing automatically, tossing garments away with a speed even he hadn't known he had until they were both naked.

Sparing one long look at the gorgeous body in front of him, Napoleon pushed him--less than gently--onto the narrow bed on his side, before falling down beside him. Bare skin touched from shoulders to toes, legs intertwining as Napoleon feasted on Illya's neck and shoulders, savoring the taste of the soft, salty skin. There was a faint taste of chlorine from Illya's earlier dip in the pool, a reminder of the mission. Even in the midst of the chaos that had followed, Napoleon's brain had catalogued the image of Illya, soaking wet in all those tight black clothes, for enjoyment later.

Not that he needed it with the real thing naked and writhing beside him. His hand roamed its way down Illya's chest, across his stomach to find his erection straining, as if reaching for Napoleon's hand. He obliged it, stroking with a loose hold that had Illya pushing back against him. Napoleon groaned as Illya's hips brushed repeatedly against his own eager cock.

God, he could get off on just this--skin that was addictive, sounds even more so--but he had bigger plans for tonight. Ever since Illya had leaned down with that gleam in his eye, admitting the truth about the formula they hadn't managed to steal from Thrush, Napoleon had wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the devious bastard. He'd blown off a little steam pretending to want to fight, but now that they were alone, he had other, far more interesting ideas in mind.

Ignoring Illya's protest at the sudden removal of Napoleon's hand, he reached behind him on the nightstand until he found the small bottle of lotion. So nice of hotels to supply these, really. He wondered just how many bottles were used as intended, and how many went to much more pleasant uses such as this.

Illya was looking back over his shoulder now, but the question in his eyes never made it to his mouth as Napoleon kissed him again. The lid to the bottle of lotion removed, Napoleon managed to get some of it on his finger and put the bottle within reach before he carefully slid one slick finger into Illya's opening.

Gasping into Napoleon's mouth, Illya pushed back, impaling himself further onto Napoleon's finger impatiently. Napoleon ran his tongue across Illya's cheek until his lips fastened on Illya's neck as his fingers worked as fast as they could--a difficult task when one was trying very hard not to fall off a very small bed.

His free hand fastened around the headboard of the bed, giving him an excellent idea. He let go of Illya completely and sat up. He pulled Illya up onto his knees, to be questioned with a rather dazed, "What?"

"I thought maybe we didn't want to fall off the bed in the middle of this," Napoleon answered, placing Illya's hands on top of the headboard. Before Illya could protest further, Napoleon positioned himself behind him, his legs between Illya's, his cock pressed against Illya's opening. His arms went around his lover, hands roaming the muscled chest as he pushed slowly inside. He could feel every muscle in Illya's back and chest tensing, knew the muscles in his arms were tight as well as Illya gripped the headboard, his back arching against Napoleon's chest.

Their skin was slick with sweat now, chest and back sliding against each other almost as smoothly as Napoleon's lotion-slick cock slid in and out of his lover. A quick bite to Illya's shoulder and the blond head turned, blue eyes hot as their lips met in feverish kisses. Their entire bodies moved in perfect unison--a little like working in the field together, with heat and danger and their strange ability to communicate without saying a word, only far more enjoyable.

Some part of Napoleon's mind thought to move his hand down lower to stroke Illya's cock in time with their movements, hard, rough strokes that had Illya's hips moving so strong Napoleon suspected he could move a truck with them at that moment. As Illya shoved back against him, Napoleon gasped, releasing Illya's mouth, his head going back. Illya's teeth grazed his neck as he thrust harder and harder, his head falling back against Napoleon's shoulder as he shuddered, crying out in his release.

Napoleon followed him over the edge, muscles contracting around him and pulling every ounce of energy he had left right out of him. An eternity later, they collapsed onto the bed, Napoleon on his back, pulling Illya on top of him. They lay there for a long while, concentrating on breathing, before Illya finally shifted enough to look up at him.

"I was right, you know." At Napoleon's blank look, Illya smiled. "You definitely have a thing for blonds."

With a shrug, Napoleon rolled them both over carefully, trapping Illya on the bed beneath him, silencing any possible protests with a long kiss. "I'm not sure," Napoleon murmured into Illya's mouth. "I think more research might be in order."

Illya smiled at him. "Good thing I like research."

---

END