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The Ask Me to the Ball Affair
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Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
“Napoleon stop fidgeting.” Illya scowled as he pinned the tux into place.
“I do not fidget.”
“Actually.” Illya took several straight pins from his mouth and looked up with wide blue eyes, “whenever I have something sharp near you, you always fidget.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You could go to the Embassy dinner with me naked if you so wish.” Illya threw the pins into the cup and folded his arms.
“No, it’s just that.” Napoleon looked down and stammered slightly.
“It’s just what?”
Napoleon took a deep sigh from the bottom of his soul and finally spoke. “I would rather go home with you.”
“Ah.” A teasing light came to the blue eyes as he helped his partner from the tux and hung it up on the dressmaker’s model. “Well in that case, I suggest we go home.”
“Really?” Despite his age, and his history Solo could be childishly appealing at times and now Illya turned his back rather than let Napoleon see his smile.
“I was not aware I was in the habit of lying.” Illya regained control and faced his partner.
“No, you’re not; I’m just not in the position to have any expectations.” Solo smiled thinly and put his suit coat on.
“Napoleon?” Concern shone clearly from Illya as he took a step forward.
“Nothing.” Napoleon waved the remark away. “I’m just tired, not as young as I used to be.”
“Is that what this is about? Our advancing middle age?” Illya slung a finely crafted leather jacket on over his shirt and turned the lights off in his office, Clara had long left and after what seemed hours of discussions they had reached an agreement. But still the nagging fear embedded in the usually dour Russian could not be assuaged. He’d felt a chill in the air and it nothing to do with the air conditioning. He had assumed, incorrectly he was discovering, that the great Napoleon Solo was not impervious to feelings. He had if anything exhibited a trepidation that was unnerving and Illya had the distinct urge to sooth and gentle the frightened man. Over the past few hours he’d had to shake himself several times before he slipped up and gave too much of himself. He would not allow the pain again and had believed all these years that Napoleon had been playing with his feelings. That he simply did not have the capacity to be genuine in his affections, now he wasn’t so sure.
The man had all but trembled when he’d touched him, sighed in a desperate desire to be accepted and wanted and despite his reservations Illya felt the wall melt by degrees and warm to the man who almost a two decades before had captured his heart.
“I passed middle age a long time ago Illya.” Napoleon responded with a bluntness that showed just how far removed he had become from the self assured playboy who’d haunted the Russian’s dreams for years.
“As did I, there is no need to fret about it Napasha, there is nothing we can do.” Illya smiled softly as he wound his way through the maze of corridors before coming to the cutting room. The lights ever on and Jason the head cutter was swearing profusely.
“Yes, but you have so much more to offer Illya, I guess you always did.”
Perplexed Illya shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Solo dared a touch to the sturdy arm and stopped them in mid track. “Where I was a predator with my partners yours came willingly. They still do Illya.” Napoleon looked over at the man who was staring at them. Mid thirty’s, well built, handsome with a shock of dark auburn curls and deep jade eyes that watched Illya avariciously. Illya smiled slowly as he followed Napoleon’s gaze before realising the portent of the conversation. “And they have so much more to give than I do.” Napoleon’s voice trailed into softness and with a speed that left the American breathless Illya turned and captured his face between large square hands.
Illya smiled gently and pushed his body forward, captured Napoleon in a breathless kiss that left them both a little dazed and the errant voyeur sighed in frustration.
“Again you presume to know what I want Napasha.” Illya nuzzled Solo’s lips with tiny kisses and nips, nibbling across the jaw line and down to the point just below his ear. He rocked his hips forward, his arousal hard and prominent as it collided with Solo’s thigh and Napoleon closed his eyes. “See what you do to me Napasha? No one has ever elicited such desire within me, do not doubt that now.” Again, brushing soft lips across Solo’s demanding entrance arrogantly before carding his hand through the dark hair left the American all but swooning in the embrace.
“Unless you want me to come in my shorts Illya I suggest we go home now.” Solo whispered.
“So much for you much vaunted sexual prowess.” Illya teased as he parted from his soon to be lover. He shot a glance at Jason, silently apologizing, and resigning himself to the rumours that would be circulating by morning. That somehow, some unknown force had finally done what many others could not, that Vanya was conquered. He shook his head smiling at the secret joke and took Solo’s hand in his own and continued toward the parking lot.
To Napoleon surprise the car park was still full, and Illya wove his way unerringly to the sensual black Jaguar. With almost careless abandon he threw his briefcase into the boot before he opened the door.
“Nice car.” Napoleon’s hand caressed the leather dash and sat back. “Has your driving improved?”
“You could always walk.” Illya reminded him.
“Ah, I see your sense of humour has also improved.” Napoleon loosened his tie and watched as Illya efficiently tooled the car out from the underground parking lot into the cool Manhattan night air. “What model is it?” Solo asked trying to not offend his prickly partner and found that his voice fell flat his nervousness showing.
“XKE, a little pretentious for a dour Russian don’t you think?” Illya looked out the window and smiled to himself.
“V12?”
“Of course. Napoleon I’m not about to throw you out.” Illya turned seriously to his partner as he stopped the car outside an elegant apartment block. He flipped his keys to the doorman to park and Napoleon followed him into the well appointed foyer.
“You have every right to.”
“Yes I do, but I won’t. Bozhe Moi Napasha! I have never known you to be so scared of me.”
“You’re wrong; I’ve been scared of seeing you again for fifteen years.” Napoleon finally conceded.
“I know that much is evident and you just cannot pick up where you left off, it is a difficult situation for us both.” Illya soothed gently as the lift door’s closed. “However, I have never known you to give up either.”
The keychain dangled from his fingers as feet sank into heavy Persian carpet along the hallway.
“I wasn’t planning on giving up.” Napoleon bristled and out of habit took a good look at his surroundings. Illya’s apartment was on a secure floor and there was only one door, giving rise to the suspicion that the penthouse took up the entire top floor.
“No,” Illya opened the door and went straight to the crystal decanter pouring himself a shot of vodka and a scotch for Napoleon. “I got the impression that you’d already given up.”
“Not fair.” Napoleon sipped the single malt and closed his eyes for a second.
“No it wasn’t however it was fifteen years ago.”
“I have no energy to spar with you Illya.” Solo rubbed his chest absently as he stopped by the huge window’s and looked at Manhattan in all her Friday night glory. Years ago that city beat her heart for him, the doors opened where ever he went, beautiful woman flocked and he’d never felt more alone or more alive in his life. Until this afternoon when a pair of blue eyes blazed furiously at him. The arctic frost of Russian discontent almost enough to send him running and yet Illya reeled him in again. With the barest hint of pressure upon the thread that bound them inexplicably he stopped his headlong flight to put the pain to rest and came face to face with the realization of what he truly wanted.
And now, so many years passed he doubted himself, doubted his desire and his ability to fulfil a void that from where he was standing was not particularly missing in his friend’s life.
Illya’s voice was soft in his ear as he stood next to his partner. “Manhattan does not change so much, neither does Berlin or London, they simply change the faces not the people.”
“That’s a rather jaded perspective.”
“On the contrary, it’s an informed decision.” Illya smiled slightly. “It is not in the cities that we find change only a lack of it, stagnation. For instance this week the Ambassador’s wife requests a frock for the Ballet, by Monday my schedule is full with the entire story being bought sight unseen by one of the department stores. By Fall the style is no longer popular or in vogue so they dump millions of dollars worth of merchandise and order again.” Illya shrugged. “They are fortunate to have no long term memory and when you do build a relationship with a buyer it may be for several stores over a period of years. No one stays.” Illya added a little wistfully. “No one ever does.”
“I should have.”
“Perhaps, but then are we not both too old to be playing that particular game Napoleon?”
“Probably, you still haven’t answered my questions though.” Napoleon turned his back on Manhattan except this time there was no backwards glance. What he’d waited for was right in front of him and he shivered.
“Which one?” Illya evaded, a small demonic part of his psyche revelling in the discomfiture of his friend.
“Are you single?”
“Yes, for the most part. I have friends who come as my guests to events, usually though I go alone.”
“Why? You don’t need to.” Napoleon frowned into his glass.
“No, but then I always wanted more than they could give. They never understood me Napoleon, not one, not once and after a while it became tiring.”
“Because you could not share your past with them and if you did what would they say?”
“Because I have a certain reputation now to uphold.”
“And won’t I be the cause of discomfit for you if I stay?”
“I’ll admit life with you was always far to complicated for me, but your better equipped to deal with all the social pressures I’m forced to bow too. Besides the same could be said for you could it not? I mean the computer industry is far less open than the fashion society.”
“I can be queer in any industry Illya, that doesn’t bother me. I gave up on worrying what people thought a long time ago.”
“Yet you worry what I think, da?”
“Nyet! I’m terrified of it.” Napoleon laughed.
“I think you have always been the most arrogant, self absorbed, conceited man I’ve ever met,” Illya moved closer to his friend, blue eyes locked with brown, “And the most handsome,” Illya kissed him lightly on the cheek, “the most loyal,” the other cheek, “brave,” this time the forehead “and sensual man I’ve ever had the misfortune to desire.” Illya kissed his lips gently nursing the bottom lip between his teeth. “And love.” He breathed into the almost slack mouth.
And in that moment, Napoleon came alive. Illya’s breath awakening him as he wound his arms around the broad shoulders and pulled the blond to him, attacking the beautiful mouth, all hint of trepidation gone as he suckled the pouting lips and ground their bodies together in a dance that was as old as time.
“I’ve always loved you too Illyusha, please never doubt that.”
“I’ve counted on it for years.” Illya smiled and allowed himself to be embraced, giving comfort and solace in equal measure as his hands skinned the shirt from Solos’ body and he ran his hands across the expanse of muscled chest. Napoleon shuddered again and Illya pulled him closer. “Please don’t be afraid to love me Napasha.”
“I’m afraid I won’t measure up.” Napoleon sighed as he laid his head on Illya’s shoulder, carding his free hand through the thick golden mane.
Illya laughed heartily now. “I have it on good authority moya dushka that you have no fear in that department.”
Napoleon blushed as Illya stripped in the lounge room and the Russian found it charming as he held his hand out. “Come now?” The voice soft, the cant of the hips unmistakable and the fire Napoleon dreamt of was alive and roaring before him.
“Is that a command?”
Illya looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can you?”
“Can I what?” Napoleon lost track of the conversation as he looked upon the alabaster body of his friend. Age had been kind and gone was the gangling youth instead before him stood the epitome of male beauty. Slender hips, broad chest and shoulders, arms that bulged with muscles and long lean legs that framed a darker thatch of golden hair and a beautiful rosy tipped cock that even half erect was breathtaking.
“Can you come on command?” Illya asked as he came closer to Napoleon and drew the fabric away from his body.
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps, we could find out.” Illya teased as his hands travelled down the planes of his friends body, covered in tiny scares and burns from years of abuse in the service of good.
“If anyone could command that of me my beautiful Illuyshanka, then I have no doubt it would be you.” Napoleon arched his head back as he watched Illya drop to the floor and swallow him in one long smooth movement. His body tense and aching for release was held at bay by a firm hand around his testicles as Illya lowered him to the carpet. He nudged his legs apart and continued his delicate ministrations as his hand cupped firm buttocks and laved gently at Solo’s scrotum. The heavy balls crawled in their sac and pulled closer to his body.
“I want to be inside of you.” Illya purred softly into the sweep of Solo’s neck as his fingers found the puckered opening and slid home.
“You already are.” Solo teased.
“Napasha!” Illya admonished as a second finger joined the first and stretched him.
“I didn’t know you like to be on top.” Solo panted heavily as his body was spread again and Illya took his place between the well muscled thighs.
“Tonight I have a need to be on top.” Illya said simply as he coated his cock with a tube of lube Napoleon swore he did not know Illya had.
“For the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to see you happy.”
“And of your happiness?” Illya tilted his head as he thrust forward breaching the American.
“Oh Jesus! Illya harder.” The American made a small noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a mewl and shoved back as hard as he could, encouraging Illya to thrust and rocking his entire body with the movement.
“You haven’t answered me my darling. What will it take for you to be happy with me?”
“For this night to never end.”
Illya’s laugh was sweet delight as he thrust hard again and found the tiny bunch of nerves inside of his partner and Solo cried out in a mixture of rapture and pain. “I cannot promise that, but I can promise,” Illya closed his eyes, sweat pooling along his hair line and down his chest as he slammed into his partner again and again. “I will never leave you.”
One last thrust and Solo screamed as Illya released his hold on the purpling length and whispered in the dark fringed ear. “Come now Napasha, come for me.”
The world spun out of orbit and back in and Solo was falling his body blazing with a pure sweet fire that burned him from inside and out as his seed slashed across his belly and into the waiting fist.
Illya gently slid out and let Napoleon’s knees go as he crawled up to lay next to his lover.
Long minutes in the void before Napoleon opened his eyes to the gentlest caress he’d even know across his forehead, softer words whispered in Russian in his ear as Illya propped his head on his hand and waited for Napoleon to regain his senses.
“So what now?” Napoleon asked softly, perhaps a little too hopefully as he looked into sapphire eyes.
“Now I’m hungry and far too old to fuck you again. What’s say we eat and go to bed?” Illya kissed the lips as he looked down.
“You said fuck.”
“Yes, I did.” Illya smiled.
“You haven’t asked me yet.”
“Asked you what?”
“You just decided to fit me for a suit, you never asked.” Solo bit his lower lip and looked away.
“Bozhe Moi, Napoleon Solo would you come with me to the ball?”
“And be your date?” Solo grinned.
“And be my date. There are you happy now moya duschenka?”
“Da. And Illya your right.”
“I usually am Napasha.”
“I was giving up.”
“And now?”
“Now I have to get up before my bones seize into place.” Napoleon laughed again. “So when do you think you’ll stop tormenting me?”
“How long is forever?” Illya asked straight faced as he hopped up and headed buck naked to the kitchen.
Solo smiled it was a punishment that he was looking forward to.
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