The New Beginning Affair

From where they stood they had an unobstructed view across the deep valley below them and of the snowy mountains beyond. The sun was still shining having come out from behind the previously ominous looking clouds, and its light reflected off the white-topped peaks. The water murmured and the wind rustled softly through the trees. The crisp-fresh air turned their breaths into puffs of cloud. High overhead a bird soared. Napoleon felt as if there was a special shine as he regarded the vista with appreciation.

"It's beautiful," Illya gasped. His voice tinged with reverence.

"Very beautiful," Napoleon agreed, although his eyes were transfixed on the blond beside him and not the landscape before him.

Soon Napoleon was sitting on the rocks, his line cast as he settled to catch their evening meal. Behind him, ensconced against a tree, and well wrapped, Illya was reading one of the journals Napoleon had brought. He kept his eye on the weather. Clouds were gathering, and their colour told him it was likely they held snow. He was mindful of the walk they still had and had no desire to subject his recovering partner to inclement weather for no good reason.

It took less than an hour for Napoleon to bag a couple of good-sized fish, and one really big beauty. Deciding that was more than enough he packed them away, and joined his partner. He smiled to see Illya so engrossed in his reading.

"Time to go, partner mine," he said. "I've caught us two days' worth of dinners," he crowed. "Or at least it would be if I had someone who didn't eat as much as you do," he added as Illya rose to stand beside him. The teasing was gentle. Illya's appetite was still less than Napoleon was entirely happy with, but it had improved. He would gladly sit and watch the blond devour all three fish.

"You said I should eat more," Illya countered. He gave a slight shiver. Sitting still for so long had lowered his temperature. He saw the concerned hazel eyes and smiled. "Just a little chilly," he said dismissively. "I'll warm up when we start moving."

"The fire will be the first priority when we get to the cabin," Napoleon stated. He was not letting Illya remain chilled.

By the time they reached the cabin, the snow was falling heavily and the wind had whipped up. Normally Napoleon would have no worries about Illya's constitution, but he was still recovering, and he kept glancing at his stoic partner. As soon as they got inside, Napoleon was a whirlwind of activity.

"I'll get a fire lit while you get out of those wet things. I asked for sets of warm clothing to be left here," Napoleon said, indicating the case between the plush settee and the laid fire.

"So well prepared," Illya smiled as Napoleon began the process of lighting the fire.

Napoleon smiled back, putting his hand briefly on Illya's and winced at its icy feel.

As the brunet tended to the fire, Illya opened the case and pulled out some of its contents. Checking the sizes quickly, he piled up thermal vests, thick-fleecy tops and sweatpants into two and then began to strip. He untied and pulled off his boots, leaving the thick socks that were mercifully still dry. Then the coat came off, followed by the sweater and finally the undershirt. His wet pants were trickier, and he had some difficulty pushing them off his chilled, damp legs.

Sitting in front of the fireplace, the flames starting to settle and burn properly, Napoleon turned his head around to see the younger man undress. He licked his lips as Illya pulled down his boxers and stood fully naked, apart from thick, woolly socks, at a slight angle to the brunet. The smooth, pale skin was shiny and wet and Napoleon's eyes roved imperiously and possessively over the perfect body. He knew there were scars, just as he carried his own, but they did not detract from Illya's beauty.

The blond moved and the sway of Illya's genitals enthralled Napoleon. Apart from a few bed-baths, these were parts of his partner he had never truly touched. He prayed that everything would fall into place and not only would he get to touch, but to taste, be over, under and buried deeply in Illya's body, surrounded by the lithe blond. His stomach tightened.

Illya was truly beautiful; his skin taking on a rose-pink shine from the flames as he unconsciously stepped closer to Napoleon, drawn to the warmth of the fire. The crackle of flames made Napoleon turn his head round, and he concentrated on the fire as Illya re-dressed. He swallowed hard. It was too soon to make a move on his partner, but Napoleon was already certain that there would be no one else for him.

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you (Lyrics: Sway)

****

When you walk down in a dream

but you know you're not Dreaming signore

(Lyrics: That's Amore)

They enjoyed a meal of freshly grilled fish partnered with vegetables and garlic bread. Unlike his partner, he knew the contents of fridge and freezer because he had made the selections personally. As soon as he was happy with the fire, Napoleon had insisted that Illya stretch out on the settee and rest as he turned to matters of cooking.

He had gutted and cleaned the fish and served them simply broiled with a knob of butter. As he put the used plates in the sink, he grinned happily. As pleased as he was at how much more Illya had managed, he still wanted his partner to eat more.

"Polya, are you trying to fatten me up?" Illya gasped as the older man placed a decadently-dark chocolate mousse before him. A candied rose petal was the only garnish, although Napoleon did place a small jug of cream at the table as he took his place opposite him.

"This weekend is about rest, recuperation and recovery," Napoleon said smiling. Along with me finally confessing my love, he added silently. He could tell by the appreciative gleam in Illya's eyes that the blond was delighted by the dessert. He watched mesmerised as Illya dipped a spoon into the chocolate fantasy and slowly slipped it past his lips.

It was all he could do not to groan out loud as Illya's eyes closed in pleasure. Napoleon was forced to watch the blond's throat rippling as he swallowed the confection and then the innocent and erotic movements as Illya sucked at the spoon.

"It is very good," Illya murmured as he withdrew the spoon. "But I'm not sure I can eat it all."

"Eat as much as you're comfortable with," Napoleon replied. "It's a treat, don't overdo." He was more than pleased when Illya finally pushed the little ramekin away having eaten over half of the mousse. "Stretch out on the settee and I'll bring over some coffee."

"Where will you sit?" Illya asked as he rose from the kitchen table. "The cabin is very nice, but it seems only sparsely furnished.

"There's a nice thick rug in front of the fire," Napoleon replied casually. He could hardly admit at this stage that the cabin was designed for couples, rather than just good friends, which was why there were just two chairs at the solid wooden kitchen table and a single, but sumptuous settee in front of the fire. Illya had yet to see the bedroom, but they had shared a bed before. He hoped they would be sharing a bed regularly.

They didn't stay up much later, and Napoleon returned from his trip to the bathroom to be regarded quizzically by Illya as the blond stood staring at the king-sized bed. He wore a pair of black, brushed cotton pyjama pants that contrasted sharply with his smooth, pale skin.

"One bed?" he asked.

"Of course," Napoleon said matter-of-factly. "You're still recovering; I don't really want to be in another bedroom if you need me. There's more room in a bed this size, even with two of us, than there would be in a room with two single beds. We've shared before so it all worked out nicely." As he had been talking, Napoleon had stripped and donned a pair of brown silk pyjama bottoms. He tilted his head at the unmoving blond. "I've left you a glass of water, and your pills are there, " he said pointing to the table on the opposite side of the bed. "There are a couple of journals, too."

"Thank you," Illya said, his voice soft. "You take good care of me," he added as he padded to the bed and slipped beneath the thick moss-green covered duvet.

"I try, Illya," Napoleon said. "Sleep well, partner mine."

Napoleon lay for a long time just content to listen to Illya's rhythmic breathing. He did not know when he succumbed to sleep, but he did know what jolted him awake. Illya. Tossing restlessly, the blond was murmuring in Russian. Listening to the fractured words, Napoleon quickly realised his partner was reliving their last mission, but this time Illya had not managed to save him and was begging Napoleon not to die.

"Shh, Illusha, I'm here, it's alright," Napoleon soothed, taking the weakly thrashing body into his arms. Illya was shivering slightly, but his skin was hot and Napoleon wondered if his partner was slightly fevered. Unthinkingly, the older man pulled the slighter form closer, Illya's soft skin contrasting with hard, honed muscle beneath. It took a moment for him to realise that his crooning hum had continued, as had his placing chaste kisses to Illya's brow, while the man he sought to comfort had woken and was looking at him with eyes filled with awe and hope.

"Napasha," Illya said, his voice hesitant. "You...love me?"

Napoleon had been more interested in comforting his partner then taking note of what he had said. He smiled down at the lithe blond. It felt so right, so damn good, to be holding Illya this way.

"I love you," he said simply. Anton had been correct. It suddenly seemed the easiest thing to say, and the blinding smile from the younger man, eloquent in its silence, told him it was also the right thing to say.

Moving slowly, Napoleon lowered his head and claimed Illya's lips in a gentle kiss. He groaned as he licked at the barely parted seam, and Illya opened to him like a flower eager for the sun. When they parted, they were both panting softly and smiling widely.

"I never dared hope," Illya whispered, his slender hand reaching to caress Napoleon's face.

The older man leaned into the touch, marvelling at the sensation of the calloused fingertips running over his cheek.

"I've wasted such a long time, Illusha," Napoleon sighed.

"Then do not waste any more," Illya begged. "Make love to me, please."

At the plea, Napoleon could think of doing nothing else. He moved away from his lover-to-be and removed his and Illya's pyjama pants, groaning deeply at the hard evidence of the blond's desire for him. He had seen the lithe body naked many times before, but never aroused and needy for him. Lying alongside the blond, Napoleon began to bathe the inside of Illya's ear with tiny swipes of his tongue and nibbled teasingly at the earlobe.

Napoleon gently manoeuvred Illya as he continued his exploration of the body that he was finally, enticingly allowed to openly caress. His tongue's journey advanced, gliding down the marmoreal flesh of Illya's bared throat. The older man felt the primal need to mark that which was his. Pausing in his oral explorations, he fastened his teeth onto the pale skin and bit down, sucking hard. The chant of his name and the bucking of Illya's hips sent bolts of lust and desire to his already dangerously throbbing erection.

Napoleon's mouth eased away and he looked with primitive satisfaction at the red mark in his wake. He intended to leave several such visual claims before the weekend was over. Detouring briefly, he took advantage of his proximity to Illya's mouth with several quick thrusts of his tongue into the hot, wet cavern that he was already addicted to. Napoleon's right hand slid into the silken, blond hair holding Illya in place for a final, deep-throated kiss.

"I want to see how much you want me," Napoleon ground out as his lust-filled eyes feasted on the trim, toned body revealed to his hungry sight. Illya's nipples were peaked and begging, the pale pink nubs surrounded by more dusky areolae. The younger man's shaft was hard and crimson-flushed against his abdomen.

A small silvery pool of pre-come caught Napoleon's attention and he assiduously licked it dry, relishing his lover's intimate taste. He wanted Illya in every way possible, but had no intention of taking Illya so quickly. They were both too ready to explode, and he wanted to enjoy a long session of love-making when he finally breached the beautiful blond.

The feel of Napoleon's intense stare as it traversed down his body to rest on his erection made Illya's body flush darker with desire. Coupled with the sight of Napoleon's solid, perfectly-muscled, olive-toned body standing proudly erect, Illya began to pant with need and writhed impatiently to incite Napoleon into moving.

"Pasha," Illya moaned softly. He watched, wide-eyed, as Napoleon moved, spreading Illya's legs, and kneeling between them. The long, thick shaft of the older man seemed to point unerringly where it desired to be, and Illya's rod jerked in reaction.

As Napoleon leaned forward to take one of his nipples in his mouth, Illya gasped as their rampant flesh brushed together for the first time. He reached forward as he arched his back, his hand stroking over his lover's skin as he urged Napoleon to take his nipple deeper.

The feel of Illya's hands on his body caused Napoleon to pause. Then his tongue resumed its exploration of Illya's neck, his collarbone and back down to the alluring nipples. He lapped at each in turn and then focused on the left nub, biting it gently before he took it into his mouth and began to suck earnestly.

The sensation of Napoleon's teeth on his nipple shot flames of arousal straight into Illya's groin. His hands petted restlessly over Napoleon's head, neck and shoulders as his head rolled slowly from side-to-side.

"Never felt anything like this. Love you, Napasha," he moaned.

As his partner, closest friend, and a top agent, Napoleon knew Illya's past love life. Or rather the lack thereof. Illya's body had been a tool in the hands of those he worked for before joining U.N.C.L.E. He was used sexually when they deemed it necessary, and the blond had never sought intimate company since coming to America. As far as Illya had been concerned it had been 'Too much trouble over something comparatively unnecessary.' It was now going to be Napoleon's privilege, and very great pleasure, to teach Illya just what he had been missing, and introduce him to the joys of making love.

He felt Illya's fingers dig into his buttocks as his tongue, lips and teeth continued to lick, bite, and suck on his lover's nipple. Illya's breathing began to speed up as Napoleon's fingers began to play with the neglected nub, tugging and pinching with masterful precision. The sound of Illya's harsh breathing had Napoleon angle his head to see his lover's face. The sight was enough to have him abandon the reddened nipples and cover Illya's swollen, glistening lips with his own, delving greedily into the hot wetness that had the fire of desire blazing through his veins.

Illya's mouth opened wider in silent invitation. His Arctic blue eyes were wide with anticipation as Napoleon pressed the lower half of his body solidly between Illya's legs, spreading them even further apart as he slid his aroused shaft fully against Illya's. His lover's hands were on either side of Illya's head supporting his weight as his smouldering sienna eyes held Illya's in an intimate gaze. As he locked eyes with his lover, Napoleon began to slowly and deliberately thrust against Illya's body.

His desire and arousal spiralling dizzily, Illya felt he was drowning in an ocean of hot, deep, possessive kisses and the incredible friction between their bodies. He began to move his own hips desperately in response to Napoleon's thrusts. He gave a choked sound of denial which quickly became a sound of encouragement as their bodies parted so that his lover's sinfully talented mouth could begin moving down his body towards his aching shaft.

Illya's eyes were darkened with desire, and he watched enthralled as his lover lowered his head and licked just the tip of his swollen flesh. A strong hand at its base was squeezing to ensure Illya did not come at the first swipe of Napoleon's tongue. He groaned, trying to thrust, but found his lover's other hand pressed against his hip, holding him in place as the older man slowly enveloped Illya's rod deep into his mouth.

Wet heat and suction seemed to sear his almost-virginal flesh. Illya had never been the recipient of such intimate sexual pleasure. He had always been the giver, always forced to give his body to the other, to let them take what they wanted. It was so different with Napoleon. Illya wanted to spread himself wide, wanted, no needed, to feel the bigger man inside him.

He whimpered helplessly as Napoleon's mouth moved everywhere. A swirling tongue, sucking lips and nipping teeth erotically tortured his erection. A hand added to the sensual pleasure, a thumb tracing the pulsing vein from base to tip before stroking him. The same thumb pressing against his slit, milking him. Fingers, Napoleon's fingers, wet and slick with Illya's own fluid sliding down his shaft once more, and then his lover's mouth returned. Napoleon took just the head, encircling it with his teeth and, as their eyes met once more, beginning to gnaw lightly.

"Your mouth... first... only..." Illya tried to convey his thoughts, but they sounded disjointed even to his own ears. However, the smile from the older man was beyond eloquent, and Illya had sentience enough to realise just how easily they had always understood one another.

A guttural sound broke free from Illya's throat as Napoleon stroked his sensitive perineum, and then ghosted a feather-light touch to his sac, before its contents were rolled and squeezed with precision. He was very close to losing control. He whimpered again, soft words spilling in Russian from his lips as Napoleon licked drop after drop of pre-come

As his sex was once more engulfed to the root, Illya felt Napoleon's hand on his hip ease its pressure and he began to thrust. His words became unintelligible as his flesh moved in and out of warm, velvet wetness. Napoleon's hand was back at his sac, fondling gently and, when Illya heard- -felt the older man hum, all coherent thought was lost. His hips pumped frantically as he approached his climax, and he exploded into Napoleon's ravenous maw.

"Pasha!"

Napoleon could feel the incipient orgasm building in his beautiful blond. Illya's eyes had closed and the slender hands had fisted into the bedding as Illya fought to retain some semblance of control. The odd word of Russian he knew, interspersed with those he did not, added a surreal, arousing effect for the brunet. He could barely wait for Illya to reach his crescendo, wanting to see the last of the blond's infamous self-control finally shatter; to be the one that melted the Ice Prince.

Humming his pleasure, his eyes were transfixed by the incredible expression in Illya's darkened-blue eyes as they opened at the moment of the blond's release. They glittered and shone with love as Illya began to shudder deliciously beneath him. The blond's seed was a mix of saltiness and sweetness, and Napoleon knew he would never tire of the taste. He swallowed most and let the last pulse onto Illya's body as he moved to stretch out over the sated blond.

He used the slickness provided by Illya's seed to thrust against the replete blond with increasing fervour, faster and harder against Illya's groin until he felt his testicles tighten. Capturing Illya's lips briefly, he let the blond taste himself in his mouth as his tongue thrust with the same urgency. As his climax swept through him, he broke the kiss and bellowed his completion as his seed branded the blond's body as his.