The New Beginning Affair

Napoleon collapsed carefully onto Illya, keeping the bulk of his weight away from the blond's healing wound, confident Illya could bear the pressure for a few moments before they would need to part. He smiled into the sweat-damp neck as Illya's fingers carded through his hair and soft, crooning words of love and devotion came in a mix of Russian and English. Unthinkingly, Napoleon began to hum wordlessly as he had so many times before when at Illya's side.

"I love you, Illya," he finally whispered.

"I love you, Napoleon," Illya said, smiling as Napoleon finally rolled them to lie on their sides, facing each other. "You were always there," he added softly.

"Where?" asked Napoleon, uncertain what his lover meant.

"At my side. When I was hurt. I remember when I was in that place between consciousness and sleep, I heard you hum. You always hummed, and it always let me know I was safe. I just never realised until now."

"I never abandoned you, Illya," Napoleon said. "And I never will," he added, drawing the lithe body back into his arms where it belonged.

Illya leaned willingly into the embrace to press his lips to Napoleon's, putting all the love that he had ever felt for the man who had been his partner and best friend and who was now his lover.

"I want you to make love with me, Pasha," Illya whispered. "To feel you inside me, your seed inside me."

The love that shone from the turquoise depths made Napoleon's breath catch in wonder as their kiss broke apart and Illya's words had his softened sex twitching with anticipation. Illya was his now and the brunet was never letting him go. He settled Illya to rest against his broader frame, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the blond.

"Sleep with me, Illusha. We have plenty of time," he husked. He wanted to be inside the blond, but he could feel how relaxed Illya was, and it had already been an exhausting day. He smiled as he heard soft sounds of sleep emanate with startling swiftness from his beloved. There was a whole, brand new day ahead of them that would herald the start of their lives as a couple, and Napoleon could think of no better way of using it than making love to his Illya.

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more (Lyrics: Sway)

****

We don't need a flowery season

Love is love December or June

We can make our own weather

Just put us together

Me 'n you 'n the moon

(Lyrics: Me 'n You 'n The Moon)

When Illya awoke next, he could smell the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee making his nose twitch appreciatively. As he eased himself into a sitting position, Napoleon came into the bedroom carrying a tray.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," the brunet teased. "I thought I needed to wake you with a kiss."

"I'd like that," Illya whispered shyly. It had been much easier to be intimate when they had been sharing the bed. However, it seemed Napoleon had no such worries. Illya felt his body yield instantly to the older man. The kiss seemed to send tingles of love and desire along every cell and synapse.

"I love you,' Napoleon whispered as the kiss ended and he dropped an affectionate kiss to the tip of Illya's nose.

"I love you, Pasha," Illya smiled. He looked with appreciation at the tray. "Such a romantic," he added, genuinely touched. The tray contained a small crystal vase with a single red rose. Freshly squeezed orange juice was alongside a mug of the fragrant coffee. A sourdough muffin had been toasted and split and was topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon and topped with caviar. Finally there was a small bowl of fresh strawberries, and Illya knew they would have been macerated in good balsamic vinegar.

"I love you, Illusha," Napoleon smiled. "I'll make breakfast in bed for you as often as I can, my love," he added.

"What about you?" Illya asked.

"I'll get my tray, and we can eat together," the older man smiled.

It was a perfect breakfast. Napoleon had eggs Benedict with crispy bacon and was delighted that Illya snagged some of the maple-syrup coated pieces he had sitting on his plate, and he allowed Illya to feed him some strawberries. It seemed that his lover's appetite was returning to normal, which relaxed the brunet even more.

"Thank you," Illya said when both trays of food were consumed.

"You're welcome," Napoleon smiled. He placed both trays on the floor and slipped back into bed, drawing Illya into his arms and kissing him breathless. "You can get up and come stretch out on the couch with those journals of yours. When breakfast has been digested, I'll run us a bath and then we can come back to bed," he said. The last of his words spoken in a voice that dripped seduction and desire in equal measure

"Da, Pasha, da," Illya murmured, pressing against the older man. As real as it felt, Illya needed Napoleon making love to him, being inside him, before the blond would finally be certain he was not going to wake up and find it was a dream.

Yawning and stretching, Illya realised he had fallen asleep reading one of his journals. He gave a soft groan wondering if Napoleon would keep his word about a dip in the hot tub the cabin boasted before finally making love. Listening carefully, he eased to his feet, smiling as he approached the bathroom as the sounds of running water and Napoleon's soft voice humming a song whose words the Russian did not know.

"Finally, Napoleon grinned. "Ready for a nice, hot bath?"

"With you?" Illya asked, unable to keep a pink stain from colouring his cheeks. He was not used to such tender intimacy. Napoleon was always the one who knew what to say, what to do. His blush deepened as Napoleon grinned wolfishly.

"If that's what you'd like, caro mio," Napoleon said softly, drawing the lithe blond into his arms. He had always thought he would feel naked without his gun. However, it seemed that he felt more naked when Illya was elsewhere other than in his arms.

"Yes," Illya whispered, nuzzling at Napoleon's cheek before daringly allowing his tongue to trace the dimple in the older man's chin. It had always held a fascination for him and the soft murmur of appreciation helped chase away some of his persisting embarrassment. He kissed his way up Napoleon's jaw and pressed his lips to his lover's. As the older man's mouth opened, deepening the kiss, Illya's tongue slipped inside to dance with its mate's. He sighed happily as the kiss ended, resting his forehead against the bigger man's.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, Illusha. Now you go wait by the fire. The bath will take some time to fill. I'll come and get you."

Illya sat and tried to focus on the journal, but the words became an unintelligible blur. His body trembled with a mix of anticipation and arousal. He so wanted this, but was equally afraid he would do or say the wrong thing.

He wished he had a repertoire of sweet words to use or knew the kind of tender touches to bring Napoleon pleasure. He had simply been expected to get on his hands and knees or his stomach to be taken. Occasionally there had been one or two who wanted to see his face, but at no time had any touches on his body been anything other than a way to show dominance over him or hold him in place. He took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly. Napoleon knew all this about him and still wanted him. If he did not relax he would ruin everything anyway.

"Ready, caro mio?"

The endearment melted the last of Illya's concerns. Napoleon loved him. He moved over to the smiling brunet and wound his arms around the older man's neck.

"I love you," he declared before taking Napoleon's mouth in a thorough kiss. He laughed softly as the kiss broke and Napoleon swept him into his arms. Each of them had been carried by the other during their partnership but never like this. Daringly he nipped and nuzzled at the older man's neck as he was carried to the bathroom.

They undressed each other before slipping into the hot water. After settling side-by-side, they began to kiss, their hands roaming freely over skin that had hitherto been forbidden to touch. It seemed as easy and as necessary as breathing to Illya, that he obeyed as he was guided to straddle Napoleon's thighs. He moaned softly as the older man's dependable hands swept imperiously over his body.

He felt calloused fingers slide over his shoulders, down his back to grasp proprietarily at his buttocks. One finger teased the sensitive skin between his spread cheeks. As it did, Napoleon's mouth joined in the amorous assault. Illya could scarcely believe that he was the wantonly writhing and moaning creature in Napoleon's arms as the brunet began to nip and suckle each of his nipples as the erotically tormenting finger brushed over his hidden entrance.

In his turn, Illya was busy tracing the contours of Napoleon's chest, the toned pectorals and teasingly pinching the espresso nubs that peaked at his touches.

As so often in their partnership, both men moved at the same moment each to gaze into the eyes of the other. As smouldering sienna and impassioned indigo met, they spoke as one:

"Bed."

Smiling and kissing, they quickly dried themselves, both equally eager to take the next step in their new intimate relationship. Napoleon was inordinately pleased to see Illya was every bit as eager as he was. He had thought he would have to woo the blond gently, but it was as if Illya had undergone an epiphany.

The blond was still the shyer of the two and that brought out Napoleon's protective streak, which was already well-honed when it came to his partner. However, when they had been in the bath Illya was no longer passive. He gave a wolfish grin as Illya led the way to their bed. He was certain that as their intimacy grew, he would find his lover every bit as passionate and intense as himself and relished the prospect.

As they stretched out together on the bed, they melted against each other, kissing deeply and languorously, resisting the urge to speed things up. Napoleon moved over the smaller man, groaning softly as he settled between smooth, splayed thighs and kissed Illya's hair and forehead, nuzzling behind his ear and neck. He let his hedonistic streak take over, surrendering to its demands and enjoying his lover's scent and the taste and texture of his skin. He brought Illya's hands up to either side of the pillow, their fingers entwined, and squeezed rhythmically as if in time to their heartbeats.

He caressed the inside of Illya's arm with his lips, keeping their arousal simmering without crossing the line into the irresistible demand to reach their zenith. The sounds of Illya's soft breathing and tiny noises of pleasure made his body shiver. He wanted this to be so good for his mate.

Licking at the soft, warm skin of Napoleon's shoulder, Illya then sought out his lover's lips and initiated another slow, time-stopping kiss. The slow build-up gave him time to savour his lover and allowed them to indulge in each other, all of their senses dedicated to the giving and receiving of sensual pleasure.

Shifting his hands, Illya's mapped the toned muscles of Napoleon's back and gradually swept lower to drift daringly over the curve of his lover's buttocks. When he instinctively applied more pressure, Napoleon's pelvis tilted forward until he was slowly grinding against him.

As if once again reading his lover's thoughts, Napoleon raised his head now to look at Illya. This gaze was yet another expression, and it nearly took Illya's breath away. It was hot, determined, full of need, desire and love and it sent a jolt of searing heat to his groin making his shaft throb dangerously.

"Illusha," Napoleon's voice was low, sensual husk. "I need you, let me love you," he added with a growl.

Had Napoleon spoken and looked as he did now before his gentle declaration of love, and the time they had already spent together, it might have sent Illya running. To know that he was the object of the older man's so-ardent desire would have been almost overwhelming. But now the blond was every bit as eager for them to take the next step. He wanted them united, wanted Napoleon inside him, coming in him. The thought alone made him writhe wantonly against the bigger male.

Illya had to swallow before he could speak.

"Da," he whispered. He raised a hand up to stroke the plane of Napoleon's jaw. "I want that, too."

The words seemed to assure Napoleon. He took each of Illya's hands, and placed them on either side of the blond's head which ensured he had full and unimpeded access to the tiny pink buds of Illya's nipples. They were treated to warm licks and sucking, and Illya whimpered as Napoleon's teeth gently captured one nipple. He held it carefully, his tongue lapping at imprisoned flesh.

As Napoleon released one throbbing, peaked nipple, he moved to the other and then Illya was left whirling in the resulting sensation of large hands seemingly everywhere, caressing, massaging, stroking. Napoleon's mouth followed where his hands led, drawing out Illya's responses. He caught sight of Napoleon's face as they briefly locked gazes between kisses. Desire and need, love and tenderness, all so evident, the brunet open as he had never been before.

Desperate to lavish some of the same pleasurable sensations on his lover, Illya rolled them and smiled to himself at the deep groan as he mouthed along Napoleon's chest. A hand cupped his head, holding it in place, as Illya continued, suckling each dark nub.

"Good," Napoleon managed to gasp.

Becoming braver, Illya reached down and touched Napoleon's shaft. It leaped readily, eagerly into his hand, hot and hard and obviously keen for attention. A gentle sound of encouragement from Napoleon electrified him. Tentatively at first, growing in confidence, he began to stroke his lover. From the sounds that Napoleon made, Illya felt he was doing a good job on his self-imposed mission. It was erotic in a different way. Giving pleasure was as important as receiving it, which Illya had known, but bestowing it on your soul mate raised it to dizzying heights. Excitement and desire flowed through him as Napoleon seemed to grow even harder at his touches.

He gave a soft gasp as Napoleon's hands covered his and pulled them away twisting so Illya was rolled onto his back again. Illya looked at him, a bit confused by the abrupt movement and then saw the gleam in his lover's dark eyes.

"I have to see you," Illya said, certain he knew what Napoleon was silently asking, it was important to him, it would make it real to see Napoleon as the older man entered him, loved him.

"Yes," Napoleon agreed with a kiss.

"Make love to me?" Illya invited, leaving no doubt he was ready.

Not breaking their gaze, Napoleon retrieved the lube he had left on the bedside table. He sucked the flesh between Illya's shoulder and throat, stroking it with his tongue. As his mouth worried that one spot of succulent flesh, he stroked slick fingers down the crevice between Illya's cheeks, feeling the small opening as he brushed past. Illya shuddered under his hands.

He carefully rubbed over the tightly furled flesh, desperate to keep control and make this good for his partner. His fingers strayed lower to Illya's sac, playing with the little ovals it contained as he tenderly squeezed them together and apart.

"Here I come," Napoleon warned as he began to press with a single digit. There was the expected initial resistance and then he was inside his lover.

At the words, Illya shivered but nodded eagerly. He felt the gentle pressure as the finger pressed steadily, seeking entry, and then slid inside him with comparative ease. When Napoleon began moving the finger in and out, it added another layer of delight, and Illya purred his pleasure.

Napoleon was careful with his preparation, pleased he had spent the time to ensure Illya was so relaxed. It meant he had readily accepted the desired intruder. His finger was moving easily and so he knew it was time to up the stakes.

"Two, caro mio," Napoleon whispered, chasing the words with his tongue into Illya's ear to a low moan. He could feel the tight walls and incendiary heat and could scarcely wait to feel them around his eager penis. He and Illya were both steadily leaking pre-come, and Napoleoon kept tight control to ensure he did not come simply from readying his beautiful lover. He ventured deeper and found the little nub he sought.

"Napasha," Illya cried out at the jolt of pure fire that flared hotly through him.

Napoleon grinned as he pressed on the sweet spot again. Illya was incredibly responsive and he now had visions of seeing his lover come thrashing wildly beneath him. Erotic, sensual fantasies flashed through his mind. Fantasies he wanted to realise, that featured Illya in myriad positions, coming again and again, taking Napoleon with him. Certain his lover was ready, Napoleon eased three fingers into his molten heat.

It was tight and Napoleon kept his fingers absolutely still, waiting for permission to move as his eyes searched Illya's face. The blond's eyes had closed and then they opened again to lock with his once more. As they did Illya moved his hips a fraction and Napoleon slowly moved his hand so that his index finger found his lover's sweet spot again.

"Oh, Pasha," Illya moaned.

Feeling the tight muscle relax, Napoleon pressed forward once more. He worked his fingers back and forth, pumping Illya gently, trying to get him used to the sensation and ready for something longer and thicker than his fingers. After a minute or two Napoleon decided Illya was ready. The blond was constantly writhing, begging Napoleon to move quicker.

"Ready for me, caro mio?" he asked, giving his lover the decision.

Illya nodded, trying to spread his legs wider as he watched Napoleon coat his rampant flesh. He moaned as Napoleon moved into position between his thighs. He was panting as if he had run a marathon, and small tremors of anticipation coursing through him. He accepted the kiss from his lover as Napoleon lined his shaft with Illya's stretched, glistening portal.

"Love you, Illusha," Napoleon whispered against the silken blond hair. He grasped the younger man's hips to hold him in place, and began to ease forward. The stretched entrance blossomed under the cautious probing, giving way, and Napoleon entered his lover in a slow, careful motion.

As the hard flesh possessed him, Illya hissed as previously relaxed muscles tensed. He smiled shakily as Napoleon immediately stilled and, after a couple of heartbeats, he relaxed again.

At the easing of the tight grip of Illya's body, Napoleon moved again. It took a moment or two, but he groaned his victory as he felt his groin press against Illya's and his shaft was fully immersed in his lover's heat.

The flesh completely buried inside him twitched, and Illya marvelled at the sensation. He deliberately tightened his internal muscles eliciting a deep moan from the man above him. At the unconscious encouragement, Napoleon groaned and then began to move. The undulations of his lover's hips immediately stopped Illya's movements. Instead he cried aloud his lover's name as Napoleon shifted his weight to change his angle and began to massage his prostate again. It was incalculably more intense than Napoleon's fingers.

The sounds that spilled from Illya's lips made Napoleon thrust harder and faster. Ensuring he continued to hit his lover's sweet spot, he reached to pump Illya's revived shaft.

"Come for me, Illusha," he husked, making a very slow and deliberate thrust that rubbed Illya's prostate firmly. "Love you so much."

For the first time in his life, Illya let go of the last of his tenuous control, and screamed as he came. He felt himself milked as his body convulsed with the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. As he began to spiral down he was aware of Napoleon's body thrusting frantically as the bigger man reached his own crescendo.