Title: "Dreams Done on a Dare"
camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Fandom: "The Man From U.N.C.L.E."
Pairing: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Rating: PG-17 [see warnings!]
Date: Don't recall the original date (sometime in the mid-to-late 1990's)
Archive: Sure, contact me first, please [template must stay with fic]
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect. No money made, it's merely for fun.
Summary: Solo and Kuryakin are captives and being forced to have sex for the enjoyment of their captors ... (I always loved how the series 'bible' seemed to include constant captivity! LOL.)
Warnings: Slash, Coerced sex, Graphic sex.
Note: This fic originally appeared in a zine published in January 1995. (I'm still very proud that it was the first fic in that zine ... smile.) That zine contained other MUNCLE work -- and a terrific Richie/Duncan poem (Highlander) among many other genres ...
Beta: Thanks as always to Mistress Marilyn for her wonderful help. Any mistakes are my own, as she's always guarding my fic to avoid putting any mistakes off on readers...
Napoleon Solo shook his head sharply, trying to clear it - he stopped the movement abruptly as a hand gripped his shoulder, the fingers digging deeply into the flesh of his arm. He tensed, feeling his body go taut -- he was clearly stretched out flat on some kind of mattress. Things were bad ... the fingers in his arm were telling him things were bad -- had to be very bad ...
"It is alright," the familiar voice of Solo's partner, Illya Kuryakin said softly to him. Solo allowed himself to relax, and he felt Illya's grip loosen. Solo was lying on his side. Kuryakin's hand was now patting his shoulder reassuringly. It was at this point that Solo suddenly realized he was naked ...
The room was in shadows, but far from complete darkness. It might be considered the sort of soft lighting he would employ when wooing some suitably attractive young lady.
Solo blinked a few times and felt the blur in his vision clearing. He gazed steadily toward where he knew his partner to be lying stretched beside him. As his sight both cleared and accustomed itself to the lack of light, he saw that Kuryakin, too, was unclothed.
Strange, he thought, glancing away from Kuryakin's nakedness. There had only been a few occasions when either of them had been undressed while in captivity. It was always unnerving, but rarely more serious than any other ploy an enemy used to gain an upper hand. Solo let his head fall back, and it pressed softly into a plump and comfortable pillow.
He could see some kind of rumbled covers at his feet, and gave brief speculation to himself why Illya hadn't covered them both during his unconsciousness. Solo could feel gooseflesh rising on his body and he suppressed a shiver.
"He's awake now," Illya Kuryakin called out, and Solo winced at the unexpected volume of his words. Kuryakin was obviously speaking loudly enough to address their captors, whomever and wherever they were.
Once again Kuryakin patted his shoulder, and Solo felt grateful at the warmth of this gesture. His partner was reserved by nature -- not normally given to displays of emotion. As a matter of fact, Solo reflected, Kuryakin wasn't generally given to displays of any sort of physical contact -- even with him.
Solo allowed himself to wonder for a brief instant exactly why Illya was being so uncharacteristically demonstrative ...
"Very good." A deep voice boomed into the room, obviously coming from some speaker placed high in one of the walls. There was a squawk and some minor static. When the voice spoke again, the sound had been adjusted to a more normal level. "We're glad to have you with us again, Mr. Solo."
"Charmed," Solo managed, though his voice was slightly hoarse. He had apparently been drugged, judging by his head, his sluggish physical responses and his vocal quality. What had they used?
Solo tried to recall the circumstances of the mickey he'd been slipped, though it hardly seemed to matter right at the moment ...
"Your partner was good enough not to fight us, once he realized you were 'at our mercy,' Mr. Solo. Mr. Kuryakin came along quietly enough not to have to be put under, as you were. While we've all waited for you to regain your senses, we've explained the current situation to him. We'll now allow him to explain it to you. Please assist us, Mr. Kuryakin."
Solo could feel a slight trembling in Kuryakin's hand against his bare shoulder -- a trembling quickly suppressed. His partner only partially managed to suppress a sigh which came out sounding like a tiny whisper of a moan. They were definitely 'in the soup' if Illya was this bothered, Solo thought, nervously.
Kuryakin leaned closer to him, and the hand on Solo's shoulder tightened again, though the fingers were not pressing into him in the painful way they had when he'd first awakened. Kuryakin's face was close to Solo's and his lips were nearly brushing Solo's ear. In a different situation, Solo might even have found the gesture amusing.
"Be calm, Napoleon. They don't mean to kill us -- or so they say. Anyway, I don't believe they will kill us ... if we cooperate." Kuryakin paused awkwardly, took a deep breath and finally continued.
"I ... I hope you'll hear me out, Napoleon. Their request is unusual. I even find it difficult to tell you."
Solo looked at his partner quizzically, but managed a quick nod. "Go on. I'm fine now. Tell me what they want from us, Illya."
"What they want, Napoleon, is for us to find ways to ... arouse each other. They have placed heart monitors on both of us," he said, tapping the metal disk which adhered to the skin of Solo's chest, "and will use our heart rate to keep track of our level of excitement."
"But-" Solo tried to interrupt him, but Kuryakin shook his head. "Please! Don't ask anything yet, Napoleon. Let me try to finish with what I was told."
Solo nodded, and Kuryakin continued. Though he was managing to maintain a calm monotone, his discomfort was clear to Solo. 'They knew each other so well,' Solo thought.
"If either of us fails to display an erection," Kuryakin continued along matter-of-factly, "they will then use the level of heartbeat as an indicator of our current arousal. Look, you can see the large monitors here beside the bed, which are currently displaying the heart rate activity for each of us."
Following Kuryakin's glance, Solo did indeed see the monitors. Oddly enough they reminded him of the applause meters that were used by certain television shows, rather than the traditional graph-like heart monitors both of them knew from years of life-threatening work as top U.N.C.L.E. agents.
Solo examined his own monitor closely, noting the half circle meter with a large, black needle swaying slightly along a track of numerals. The face was illuminated and easy to see. Solo noted a small area in the upper left hand corner of this meter banded in yellow. The area down and to the far left of this yellow portion was marked entirely in bright red ...
Solo pointed at the red area where he saw the needle bouncing lightly up toward the yellow band. Then as he forced himself to draw in a deep breath and relax, the needle swung firmly back inside the red area. His partner nodded.
"Yes, Napoleon. The area beyond the yellow band -- the white portion of the monitor -- is our safety zone. When we touch yellow we're 'cooling down' -- and they'll give us a warning. Inside red, and well ..." he didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Kuryakin continued, his voice still dispassionate. "We must maintain what our captors consider an acceptable level of arousal for two hours."
"Two hours?!" Solo interrupted -- then caught himself and cast Kuryakin a rueful glance, "Sorry ..." He felt bad about his outburst, but he could see his partner had understood. Kuryakin even managed a quick grin; a flash of teeth which reminded Solo how fortunate he was to be partnered with this intelligent and sensitive man.
"Go on," he prompted, briefly returning the grin.
"Yes, well, they say they will allow for each of us to be at different levels of arousal during this period, but at least one of us must meet their standards at all times. If we both dip below the acceptable level of arousal, they'll immediately kill the person with the lowest heart rate."
Solo allowed Kuryakin's words to sink in for both of them before speaking again. "Well," he said in a wry voice, "There's no question who would be the most likely to have the slower heartbeat at any given time -- is there?"
The both knew Kuryakin's fame throughout the U.N.C.L.E. organization for his low blood pressure -- and slow heart rate.
Kuryakin's look confirmed Solo's comment. Their eyes locked again for a moment before Kuryakin continued with his dialogue.
"They say they will allow the surviving agent to live ... but will leave behind evidence incriminating the survivor. Thereby allowing one of us to take the blame for whomever is killed."
Illya convicted of murdering him? Or the reverse? Impossible! No one would accept such a possibility ... would they?
That either of them would murder the other was unthinkable -- wasn't it?
Solo struggled not to put voice to his thoughts -- not to air the questions pounding in his brain. No matter, anyway. He wasn't about to let either of them die -- not if he could help it.
"They've given their word they will allow both of us our freedom if we meet their demands during the two hour period." At this point Kuryakin's matter-of-fact tone turned sour, and Solo noted a certain look in his partner's eyes which indicated the stormy anger Solo was so familiar with. Kuryakin continued, his fury disguised from all but his partner. "They have several concealed cameras, Napoleon. They plan to tape the entire thing. For their own purposes is all they will say."
Solo fought his own surge of anger at the prospect of possible future blackmail or exposure. After all, there was no point in losing it now when anger would serve no purpose. It was better to try and keep a clear head ...
"All right, partner," Solo continued, making an attempt at lightening his tone while still whispering, "what are we going to do?"
Kuryakin shrugged. Then he caught Solo's eyes with his own. "I think we will try to cooperate, Napoleon. I don't think we have any other choice. The door into this room is about ten feet up that wall," he said, gesturing with his forehead toward the closest wall, "by the loud speaker. They brought us down a stairway which retracted upward as the doors closed. I don't see any other way out.
"There are at least ten heavily armed men in the observation room up by the door," Kuryakin added. "At least, there were when they brought us through on the way down here."
Squinting, Solo saw the dim light of a large window above them.
"Napoleon," Kuryakin continued, "we are naked, without weapons of any kind. We have no choice but to attempt to do as they say and hope they will honor their agreement afterwards and let us go free."
"Do we know who they are?" Solo whispered urgently. "I mean, are they Thrush? Have they questioned you at all about anything? What do you think they really want?"
Kuryakin sighed. "I think we must assume they want exactly what they say they want. I don't know who they are -- does it really matter right now?" Kuryakin was barely concealing a certain amount of exasperation.
"Come, Napoleon," he urged, his voice suddenly gentle.
"Have you explained things to Mr. Solo?" the deep voice interrupted, making them both jump.
"Yes," Kuryakin answered, "I've explained your request."
"Good. I'll remind you that you'll find any number of 'aids' on the table next to your bed."
Solo glanced at the table, wondering what aids were being referred to. He noted what looked vaguely to him like an Italian sausage. Closer examination revealed a large dildo, made of rubber -- a dildo with a penis head at either end. Next to it was coiled a leather whip. Suppressing both a shudder and any further curiosity, Solo glanced quickly away before examining the other items ...
"Please feel free to use them," the voice was saying, and Solo noticed an enigmatic look on his partner's face. "Some amount of physical pain is acceptable in maintaining your higher level heart rate, but please don't try to fool us by using it as a replacement for sexual arousal. Believe me, we aren't easily mislead. Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. We'll start the clock shortly. And you may use the cover now, Mr. Kuryakin."
Solo glanced again toward the monitors, glad they were at the end of the bed where he could avoid looking back at the table and those aids. Watching the monitors, Solo now noticed a large digital clock beside them. Everything neat and tidy, he thought, smiling sourly.
"They're allowing us a sheet?" Solo whispered his surprise. "Didn't you say something about them looking at our ... er ... watching for physical signs of our arousal?" he finished, avoiding mentioning their potential erections. He shook off his own questions. Illya was right -- it just didn't matter now.
Kuryakin shrugged in response to his comment as he pulled up the bed sheet. As it came up over Solo's legs it felt silky, and at the same time somewhat warming. The air in the room was comfortable, but slightly cool.
But as Kuryakin drew the sheet closer to their faces, Solo suddenly realized he could still see his own legs through it. The material was completely transparent. Solo looked at Kuryakin's legs, and out of the corner of his eye caught sight of downy hair leading to bulging flesh just where the two strongly muscled legs joined Kuryakin's torso. He glanced away quickly, embarrassed.
"Just look at me, Napoleon," Kuryakin was saying in a low, soothing voice. "It will be fine."
Solo looked into his Russian partner's blue eyes, but his glance darted away almost immediately. The eye contact was so intimate it was somehow worse than looking at Illya's naked groin, Solo realized. How were they going to manage this? How was he going to manage it, he amended to himself (realizing his partner was ready to make the effort).
At that thought Kuryakin's arms came up around Solo's shoulders, tucking the smooth cloth around him. The touch of the material -- which reminded Solo of satin sheets -- was exceedingly erotic. Solo could feel his body stirring with the beginnings of passion.
Kuryakin's left hand began to trail downward from Solo's right shoulder, fingers skillfully touching and testing the textures of skin and chest hair. Suddenly the fingers were lightly skimming his right nipple. Solo gasped in response.
Looking into Kuryakin's face, Solo could see that his partner was smiling. "Good, Napoleon," Kuryakin said softly, "Just relax and let yourself go."
Solo tensed and felt himself blush. It was odd -- he knew Illya's words had been meant to provide just the opposite effect, but somehow as Illya had spoken and brought their joint attention to his physical response, Solo had become aware of how impossible this situation was. He was completely out of his element.
Somehow, however, his partner seemed sure of himself -- perhaps even ... relaxed. On top of his own embarrassment and discomfiture, this clearly confident behavior from Illya annoyed Solo.
Kuryakin's fingers skimmed across Solo's chest, lightly teasing the hair in the center as they moved from his right nipple over to the left one. Again the fingers touched gently, but this time Solo had expected the touch and he remained tense and unresponsive.
Kuryakin's right hand slipped up, under and around Solo's left shoulder which was pressed half into the pillow and half into the mattress of the bed. Solo could feel Kuryakin's hand moving to rest on his neck. He suppressed a shiver at this new contact of skin against skin, as Kuryakin began to massage the tense muscles of his neck. Almost unwillingly Solo felt his tension beginning to melt ...
Kuryakin continued to massage, making the movement of his right hand firm and commanding. Like a good illusionist, he drew Solo's attention to this sensation, staring into Solo's face. Solo closed his eyes ...
Watching Solo's face for any change of expression, he continued to lightly rub his partner's neck, waiting for Solo's facial muscles to relax. Finally Solo sighed, and the tension in his face drained away.
Kuryakin nodded to himself and swiftly took Solo's left nipple between his fingers, pinching it roughly. His right hand gripped Solo's neck, bracing his partner against this new sensation.
Solo responded as if hit by lightning. His body arched up from the mattress and swung toward Kuryakin's, his breath caught up in a loud swoosh of air. The nipple in Kuryakin's fingers went rigid and jutted outward. While Kuryakin had expected a reaction, he was both surprised and gratified by this strong response. If they were going to manage this it would obviously be up to him to overcome Solo's reservations -- Solo's probable homophobia -- and to direct their joint activities.
"The clock is starting, gentleman," a voice said. Kuryakin heard the clock make one tiny sound as it engaged.
Kuryakin glanced at Solo's heart rate monitor, and saw the needle swinging toward the right side. 'One little pinch of one tiny piece of flesh,' he thought. 'Amazing.'
Solo's breathing was ragged. Kuryakin could see gooseflesh standing out on Solo's arms. He imagined Solo's nipple must be throbbing.
Watching the expression on his partner's face he could see that Solo was trying to calm himself. He wondered if Solo was trying to analyze his powerful response.
Kuryakin lowered his mouth over Solo's chest and touched his warm mouth to the bruised and erect nipple. He licked it gently with his tongue then took it softly between his lips and sucked at it carefully. Solo clearly couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips as he rocked his buttocks forward and back lightly on the mattress.
Kuryakin could see Solo's penis swinging; he could see a vein standing out blue against the deep pink, throbbing madly.
Realization hit him hard; Solo turned a full stare at his partner and considered. They could do this, he decided. There was no doubt about it. His previous worry had clearly been unfounded. His own physical response made the point for him.
Perhaps Illya had realized this all along, in some way Napoleon himself had not. 'Hell, we might even enjoy doing this,' Solo thought.
He glanced again at the table by the bed and caught sight of a blur of what he could only think of as the fantastically bizarre and frightening objects. 'Well, maybe we'll enjoy some of it,' he amended to himself.
Solo licked his lips and pressed back on the bed, looking at Illya's glowing blonde mop of hair.
No. He certainly wasn't going to make Illya completely responsible for whatever was going to happen here. It wasn't fair and it wasn't ... right. He was the senior partner and section leader -- he should try to assume a more active role.
These thoughts passed quickly through Solo's mind; he found himself moved to immediate action.
Reaching out with both hands, Solo pulled Kuryakin closer to him. His hands moved carefully down the slender body, exploring the muscular chest and delineated ribs, the curve of the hip and the smooth flesh of one thigh.
Without thinking further, Solo reached and grasped Kuryakin's penis in his hand; he began pumping and stroking it as he might have his own. (He tried not to give any special thought to Kuryakin's full and firm erection; to the sticky beads of wetness his fingers encountered on the tip. He found a certain fascination in this activity, and he began to work at it in earnest.)
"No!" Kuryakin hissed, putting his hand over Solo's wrist. "It will happen far too soon that way for me."
Solo turned a quizzical eye to his partner. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, feeling a bit confused. He faltered for a moment and then carefully decreased the pressure of his hand as he continued to move it ...
"Two hours is a long time, my friend," Kuryakin answered, breathing hard. "I think we need to hold back our first orgasms as long as we can."
Solo sighed. "Yes," he nodded. "I suppose you're right. What do you want me to do?"
Though Solo wanted to take the initiative, it would probably be wiser to listen to what his partner suggested.
Kuryakin hesitated for only the briefest instant before answering. "Suckle it, Napoleon," he suggested, in a soft voice, patting Solo's wrist gently.
Solo drew aback, aghast, dropping his hand away from Kuryakin.
"What?" Solo's voice was a clear reflection of exactly how appalled he was by the suggestion.
"You know what I mean, Napoleon," Kuryakin said with a certain amount of exasperation. Solo could see Illya was disgruntled by his lack of cooperation. He sputtered in response, but made no move to comply with Kuryakin's request.
"Take it in your mouth, damn it," Kuryakin ordered, his voice a hissing whisper. "Don't tell me you've never had oral sex with a woman." His soft voice was now almost angry.
"Actually," Solo replied, his own whisper silky suave, "most women I'm with don't choose to ..."
"You're joking!" Kuryakin blurted out, disbelievingly.
"Why are you so surprised?" Solo asked, reaching out his hand and once again stroking Kuryakin's penis which was throbbing hotly in his palm. "I had one woman tell me it wasn't very ... polite."
Solo sounded far too smug to suit his partner. He seemed to think the matter was settled.
"Well, your women may not like sucking you -- and they might not even want you to eat them," Kuryakin continued bluntly, pausing briefly at Solo's gasp of surprise at his choice of words, "but you are damn well going to suck me, regardless." Without further comment, Kuryakin grasped Solo's head firmly between both of his hands -- linking his fingers tightly in the thick dark hair -- and guided it downward between his legs. He pressed Solo's face into his groin.
Solo gave one soft moan of complaint -- but he didn't struggle and spoke no further protest. Kuryakin gasped aloud just once as he felt Solo's warm mouth close over him. Solo's hand remained wrapped firmly around the base, where it continued to softly pump.
Kuryakin allowed himself to sink under waves of self-indulgent pleasure for one long moment before shaking himself out of his reverie and pulling Solo away.
"What?" Solo asked in a distracted voice, smacking his lips and trying immediately to duck his head back down to his task.
Kuryakin felt a moment of surprise before recognizing the action as one of desire on Napoleon's part. Solo genuinely wanted to continue on -- without thought and certainly without interruption.
Kuryakin himself knew this experience of complete concentration in the joy of a given sexual act ...
After all, even a man who seemed disinterested -- or opposed to oral sex -- could get deeply caught up in the act once he had begun it. Once he had allowed himself to be really involved in what he was doing.
Solo's apparent 'disorientation' was quite simply an indication of exactly how much he was enjoying the act he'd suddenly been forced to stop.
Solo was trying to pull away from his partner's restraining hands. Kuryakin could hear him muttering under his breath. Finally Solo lifted his face and stared directly into Kuryakin's. "Damn it. What's wrong now? I'm doing exactly what you said to do."
Kuryakin gave Solo a small secret grin. "I know, I know," he replied, soothingly. "But you have to go slower. Draw it out, Napoleon. Try using your tongue. Lick it. And if you keep using your hand ..."
"I follow you," Solo interrupted him. "I don't know why you can't just let me do it myself. You aren't the first person I've ever made love to, you know."
Kuryakin found he had to smile at Solo's ego-driven annoyance. Then giving further thought to Solo's comments, he was struck by the terminology. 'Made love to,' Solo had said.
But this was sex, pure and simple -- wasn't it? Furthermore, it was sex under coercion. It was hardly what he would refer to as lovemaking ...
But Solo was a romantic -- and apparently so much of a 'gentleman' he didn't even choose to use slang or common language in association with his sexual encounters.
It was strange imagining Solo avoiding the more simple and descriptive -- if somewhat vulgar -- words Kuryakin usually associated with the sexual act. It wasn't as if Solo didn't curse from time to time, after all.
It was also strange to realize that he wanted to hear those more course words pouring out of Solo's mouth. He had thus far been fairly clinical -- with the exception of his recent references to oral sex, he thought, smiling.
But under more normal circumstances he both enjoyed hearing and saying certain words. Words that he did feel could be vulgar -- and generally considered offensive.
But the bedroom was hardly polite society, so why should it matter there?
Solo had returned his face to Kuryakin's crotch, and he interrupted Kuryakin's train of thought by using his tongue to lick Illya's penis.
Kuryakin sighed and spread his legs slightly wider.
Solo's thoughts were no longer conscious ones ... He was allowing himself -- and his thoughts -- to be entirely directed by his senses.
The flavor on his taste buds was a mixture of salt and bitter. It reminded him of the gamey flavor of certain wild meats -- like fresh venison. Surprisingly, the taste was altogether delicious.
The feel of the hot flesh under his tongue and lips was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It defied any description -- but he found it overwhelmingly desirable and enjoyable.
Simply put, Solo wanted only to continue these actions; he wanted to repeat these random sexual patterns he was performing over and over again.
Solo wanted this to go on (and on) without any thought of stopping. This new experience was heady; the experience was overpowering -- and potentially addictive ...
Solo did give some small thought to what Kuryakin was feeling (and thinking) under his ministrations -- but this was oddly in some entirely self-centered way.
He allowed for Kuryakin's responses -- but only as they fueled his own passion.
Had Solo taken time to think clearly, he would have been surprised -- and perhaps even shocked -- by this lack of concern on his part for his sexual partner.
Under normal circumstances, Solo was the most considerate of lovers -- always making every effort to fully please and satisfy whomever he was with. He was even known to neglect his own satisfaction in favor of giving a woman what she needed. (This fact would have interested Kuryakin, who had often given serious consideration to Solo's sexual needs -- and pondered how Solo managed to meet those needs ...)
Kuryakin found himself growing tense inside the 'bubble' of sensations Solo was creating for him -- he drew some practiced calming breaths. He knew he could last longer -- had lasted far longer many times. But somehow this was different -- and not only because of the danger of their situation.
This was different because this was Napoleon.
Napoleon Solo -- his handsome, desirable partner -- had his firm, muscled body hovering over him. Napoleon Solo was using his mouth that Illya knew so well -- those lips and that tongue -- to do amazing things to Illya's penis.
'No. My cock,' Kuryakin thought. 'He's sucking my cock.' His head was spinning. If only he could hear Solo say those very words ...
Solo choked once before gaining control of his gag response, as Kuryakin poured thickly into his mouth and throat. Solo sucked him in, taking as much as he could manage into his mouth.
Part of Solo's mind continued in a self-absorbed fog of pleasure --but another part of him wondered exactly what thing he had done to push Illya Kuryakin over the edge -- to finally make him climax ...
Kuryakin realized his arms were flailing as he came out of the mists of orgasm and back to a certain degree of reason. He sighed, relaxed his body and gazed down fondly at Napoleon, who was continuing to suck and lick his now flacid penis.
Kuryakin glanced over at the monitors and noted with some alarm that his had fallen back into the red 'danger' zone. But he realized immediately he had no cause for concern -- the needle on Solo's monitor was soaring inside the white.
Kuryakin allowed himself several minutes of rest as Solo continued to suck. 'No use in it,' he thought, but it still held a pleasure of a different sort ...
Solo had licked his partner clean, greedily swallowing every drop of the thick liquid. It was amazing how much he was enjoying himself, he thought -- and just how much he savored this taste.
Without thinking Solo had placed a hand on his own penis and began to rhythmically stroke it.
Kuryakin finally forced himself to lean up on his arms and pull Solo gently, but firmly, back. He pressed Solo against the mattress. "Now I think it is your turn," he said.
"No. Not that," Solo insisted, shaking his head. Kuryakin could see his partner was still somewhat under the spell of the past several minutes -- that the head shake was more a way of bringing himself back around than as a negative gesture.
"I'd really rather you'd use your hand." Solo was saying, his eyes boring into Kuryakin's. "Just touch me. If you did that," he said, gesturing with his head in reference to the oral sex they'd just finished, "I'd climax in a moment."
Kuryakin smiled widely. "I think I'd like to see you come right now, Napoleon," he said, fluttering his lashes provocatively. "But we'll do it your way."
Kuryakin was lying on his side, facing Solo, who lay flat on his back. He leaned up on one arm moving his arm closer and across Solo. He pushed away Solo's hand, which was moving in a languid up and down motion.
Kuryakin's hand took the place of Solo's. He began by running gently fingers up and down Solo's penis, barely touching the hot flesh.
"Ah, now don't tease me ..." Solo complained, trying to use his own hand on top of Kuryakin's to increase the pressure.
Kuryakin laughed and pushed Solo's hand firmly away. "Let me, Napoleon. You can trust me to take care of you."
Suddenly Kuryakin wondered about the time -- he glanced over at the clock. It seemed impossible so little time had passed. They'd only been at this for twenty-two minutes!
He didn't bother to say anything to Solo. Though he knew the reason for this reluctance should be his concern over the risk of dampening Solo's current excitement, he realized he was more interested in allowing Solo to fully enjoy himself -- without reminding Napoleon that he needed to worry about the situation ...
Somehow, Kuryakin speculated, in this moment in time, Solo wasn't even aware there was a 'situation.' Solo didn't appear to be thinking about the fact that they were under coercion to do these things.
Perhaps this evaluation on Kuryakin's part was an illusion -- but it seemed to him that at some point Solo had jumped right in. That he was allowing himself to wallow in their 'lovemaking.'
As Kuryakin continued to explore and prod Solo's erection, he couldn't help wondering at his partner's enthusiasm.
Was it simply that Solo had found he enjoyed the sex -- regardless of the gender question?
Or had Solo discovered he specifically liked having sex with a man?
Or -- more importantly -- had Solo discovered he liked sex with his partner? As curious as Kuryakin was the answer would have to wait. (Maybe it would wait forever ...)
Solo was holding back his passion admirably. Kuryakin glanced at the monitors and found they were both again within the safe area.
Like Solo moments before, Kuryakin was very excited to be ministering to his partner. Kuryakin's breath was coming fast -- he could feel sweat running down his neck and back.
Solo was gasping now and his limbs were taut. He was softly moaning -- the sound was a low, deep growl of pleasure. 'He must be very close to the edge,' Kuryakin thought, smiling.
"Easy, now," he whispered sharply. "Hold on to it, Napoleon. Try to relax and stretch it out. Don't let yourself-"
Solo groaned loudly and his body began to buck -- he was spurting as if his semen was being forced out under tremendous pressure, like water from fire hydrant hose.
Kuryakin forgot their situation, forgot his recent cautions to his partner; he forgot everything but the current outflow of passion from Solo -- and how excited and pleased his partner's passion made him feel.
Solo's breathing shook his body as his climax ended. He turned and leaned into Kuryakin, and their bodies pressed together. Kuryakin felt his erection swell fuller, and then Solo's hand was around it for a brief moment.
Kuryakin groaned as Solo's hand pulled away, removing the much desired pressure. He felt Solo shifting away from him -- turning his back toward Kuryakin.
One of Solo's hands came back and took hold of Kuryakin's penis, guiding it.
"No, Napoleon. Not that. Not yet, at any rate. Turn loose and let me show you."
Kuryakin's thinking had cleared. He was again focused on their 'problem.'
He decided to leave himself completely aroused -- as uncomfortable as this might be. An erection fulfilled their requirements, though he knew his current heartbeat must easily be doing the same.
Kuryakin added to his verbal instructions by pushing gently at Solo's hand.
Solo dropped his hand away, and started to turn around again to face Kuryakin.
"No, Napoleon. Stay there," Kuryakin ordered, pressing against the firm muscles of Solo's broad back. Solo fell back on his side, dropping his face into the pillow.
Kuryakin sucked his middle finger making it wet with saliva. Then he reached down and pressed gently against Solo's anus.
"Ah," Solo whispered, "don't worry. I can take it. Don't wait."
Kuryakin was moved by Solo's willingness. There was a small tremor in Solo's voice that told him his partner was nervous -- perhaps even afraid.
Solo obviously believed Kuryakin was readying him for penetration -- and he was clearly ready to face this new and frightening experience (one he might well be assuming would be painful). He seemed ready to face an experience Kuryakin was sure Solo believed to be both wrong and unmanly . . .
Kuryakin reached his free hand up to Solo's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. He felt a lump forming in his throat. Though he had been fighting the entire time not to think of his personal feelings toward his partner their intimacy made that impossible.
Kuryakin knew in his heart -- had known for years -- that he desired Solo. Both his fantasies and dreams were frequently filled by Napoleon Solo. And more, Kuryakin recognized he was in love with Solo. He had not only wanted to make love with his partner for years -- more, he wanted to spend the remainder of his days as Napoleon Solo's life-partner.
Shaking himself, Kuryakin pulled away from his thoughts and concentrated once more on the moment. He mustn't think about these things or he'd lose track of the danger they were in. He mustn't expect something which simply couldn't happen out of this forced situation. Such expectations might break his spirit when they were removed from all this and things had returned to normal.
Kuryakin pinched the flesh near Solo's neck, while pressing firmly into Solo with his other hand. His middle finger penetrated the sphincter, and he worked into Solo's rectum.
Solo gasped once, and his body tensed. Kuryakin's heart pounded as he prayed he had not hurt Solo too badly. He continued, leaning his face close to Solo's neck, where he blew hot breath against the sensitive skin.
He felt Solo shudder in response, and continued to press his finger in wide circles inside his partner's anus, relishing the sensation of the folds of damp, trembling flesh against his finger.
"So ... so personal," Solo was saying aloud in a gasping voice, "So invading. God."
"Yes, my friend. I know. Let yourself feel it, Napoleon. Relax and feel it."
Suddenly Solo's body did relax -- and Kuryakin could feel Solo relax further and further as each second ticked past. His finger could feel flesh opening under it; there was wetness now where there had been none before.
Solo's breath was coming in small sobs. "Good. Yes. It's very good," Solo said, pressing his body toward Kuryakin; Solo wrapped his leg over one of Kuryakin's.
Kuryakin could feel Solo's foot locking behind his ankle as Solo worked to pull Kuryakin closer to him.
"Easy now, Napoleon. It gets better. Trust me."
Kuryakin could feel sweat pouring down Solo's back and against his own body. The wetness inside proceeded, and Kuryakin continued to work Solo, thinking only how he wanted Solo to enjoy the sensation.
He tried to ignore the throbbing of his own penis, which now and then brushed against Solo's sweaty skin (even as he tried to avoid this very contact). The sensation was almost unbearable ...
"God, yes! Do that harder, Illya."
Kuryakin could feel Solo climaxing; he worked him and drew out the feeling. He managed to move his free hand under Solo's body, shifting Solo as he did so. Finally he pressed his free hand against Solo's penis. Solo's organ was flaccid, though a small amount of wetness was dribbling from the end.
Kuryakin wasn't surprised. After all, Solo had just had an orgasm minutes before -- he hadn't had near enough recovery time to manage an erection again this soon. No matter. It was obvious Solo had experienced anal orgasm -- something he himself had known could happen. (It had happened to him in the past, after all ...)
Kuryakin didn't bother to give serious consideration now to the research he'd once done on the subject of male, non-genital orgasm. Though it had certainly fascinated him in the past, it now was simply a fact he accepted. He knew it could happen; knew it did happen with most men (if they'd allow it to). After all, Solo wasn't a statistic to Kuryakin. Still, he was pleased Solo was able to feel what must be for him a new form of satisfaction.
"So incredible. This feels so damned good, Illya. It's just ... incredible," he repeated, his voice sounding drugged with pleasure.
"Yes. I know, Napoleon," Kuryakin replied, allowing himself to glance at the clock. Time now was suddenly flying by -- soon they'd have done what they had been asked to do. Soon it would be over.
Solo was relaxed against Kuryakin, his flesh sagging into Kuryakin's and touching warmly against Kuryakin's own flesh. Kuryakin could feel his own penis straining.
"Easy now, Napoleon," he said, pulling his finger out of Solo's body. He pressed against Solo, guiding him to lie at an even greater angle in toward the mattress -- though not quite flat on his stomach.
Finally, Kuryakin leaned up and over Solo, taking his own penis carefully in his hand. Even this light pressure was painful. Breathing in and out slowly, Kuryakin again tried to calm himself somewhat.
With the time so close now to finishing, it wouldn't do to come right away like a schoolboy! On the other hand, he didn't want to miss this opportunity.
In all honesty he would probably have preferred to have Napoleon driving into him, he was willing to be the one doing the driving. Now if he could only stand the tight grip which was bound to grasp his sensitive organ!
Kuryakin guided the head of his penis to Solo's wet opening and gave a quick lunge forward. His penis drove in deeply -- he gasped sharply at the sensation and Solo moaned with pleasure under him.
Kuryakin worked in and out and soon they were both moaning in unison.
Kuryakin couldn't keep himself from glancing at the clock, and he watched as it ticked off the last seconds. Then he glanced away, feeling a little anxious. 'Please, please,' he thought, 'let us finish. Don't stop us now.'
As no sound came and nothing happened, Kuryakin continued his pleasure without further conscious thought. This was wonderful, it was excruciating -- it was over too soon!
Kuryakin finished his climax, feeling the liquid pouring inside his partner. Then he fell over Solo, allowing himself to rest entirely against Solo's body.
This was -- at last -- a feeling of complete abandon.
Then the room darkened completely. Kuryakin rolled off of Solo.
Solo shoved himself up, and turned in to lie face to face with Kuryakin. He snuggled against his partner's body. "Have to ... sleep," he managed to get out.
Kuryakin nodded, dreamily. "Yes. Sleep. I'm right here ..."
They both drifted away into sleep.
When they awoke, the room was bright with light. Glancing around they could see the monitoring equipment and clock were gone. The metal disks were no longer attached to their chests and the staircase was down nearby.
Their clothes were lying on either side of the mattress, neatly folded.
But most importantly there was no sign of people -- anywhere.
"I guess we're free to go," Kuryakin said, his voice soft and a little hesitant.
Solo ran a hand through his dark hair, nodding.
They both glanced around the room a second time, then finally turned to face each other. Their eyes locked.
"Well, I guess they made a record of the entire thing," Solo said, not breaking eye contact.
"Yes, so they said."
"I guess we can expect to go back to Headquarters rather more famous than we were before," Solo added, his voice wry. He smiled broadly.
Kuryakin offered a hesitant grin in response. "I ... suppose."
Solo knew he should be concerned -- perhaps even appalled -- at the thought of their friends and colleagues seeing what had transpired between them. But the simple fact was that he felt elated by the experience -- and unashamed of his elation.
Solo lifted Kuryakin's chin with one hand and drew him into an embrace with the other. They pressed together in a long kiss.
"You ... you feel-" Kuryakin tried to express himself, and failed, breaking off.
"I love you, Illya. No question. Nothing else seems to matter much right now."
"Yes, what? You feel the same way about me?"
"I have always loved you," Kuryakin answered simply.
Kuryakin nodded. "Well," he amended, "almost always. Perhaps not precisely at the first, but soon after. You are ... irresistible. Not just to all those women ..."
Solo kissed Kuryakin again, wondering how he could have been so blind to what his partner had felt for him. 'No,' a voice inside him said, 'you felt the same for him long before this.' And he knew it was true (in spite of his past stupidity).
Solo just hadn't been ready to recognize it ...
"Hard to believe," Solo said, grinning widely, "that we were forced to face this by an enemy. I guess they did us a favor."
"I can't help but be glad, Napoleon. No matter what the final consequences are."
"Consequences? Consequences be damned! I love you and I've made love to you -- and you've made love to me. We'll find a way to manage this -- and balance our work together." Solo stared at Kuryakin, attempting to judge his partner's mood while appearing not to. Something wasn't quite right here, even now.
"What if ... Mr. Waverly objects?" Kuryakin asked him, showing more concern than Solo would have expected him to.
"He won't. Somehow I know he won't. Doesn't matter if he does. I'd hate to leave U.N.C.L.E., but I'd hate losing you far more. Sometimes you have to make a choice, after all."
"What about your black book and all your women?"
Solo sighed. "Well, I have a hard time imagining giving them up forever. But if that's what you want, I will."
The look on Kuryakin's face was still shadowed with hesitancy. Solo wanted to drive his partner's questions away and convince him it was right for them -- show him they were meant to be life partners, as well as partners in their work.
What could he say to push Illya's doubts away?
"Illya," he began, his voice soft, "you just told me you've always loved me. What's bothering you?"
Kuryakin paused before answering. His voice was unnaturally emotional for him when he finally spoke. "We're very different, Napoleon. I am, frankly, a difficult person to live with. I like to have things my own way." Solo could see Kuryakin's hands were trembling slightly as he spoke.
Solo made a gesture, as if to brush away Kuryakin's fears. "Well, we'll get an apartment big enough for us both to have all the things we love, and still be together. I think we'll manage very well. Let's give it a chance."
"Apartment? You mean ... you mean you want us to have an apartment ... together?"
Solo laughed. "Of course I do! Don't you? Why would you mention being difficult to 'live with' if you didn't think we'd live together?"
He pulled on his shorts, and followed them with his socks and slacks.
Kuryakin reached for his own clothes before answering. "I ... didn't mean 'hard to live with' as in living together. It never occurred to me you would even think of living with me. I ... I just don't know if this is a good idea, Napoleon," he finished, his head dropping forward and his voice so soft Solo could barely make out the words.
"Look, we both like things our own way -- and I imagine I'm even harder to live with than you are. But I still think we should give it a chance. Our so-called differences be damned."
Kuryakin's head came up quickly. Solo could see he had made a decision.
Solo was startled as Kuryakin suddenly grabbed him and hugged him tightly for one quick moment. "I don't know if it will work out, but I am willing to try. And I don't care if there are others -- your incessant, annoying women -- as long as I know I'm the one you love the most. Besides, as we will want to spend our nights together, I suppose it makes sense to live together."
Solo gaped at him for a moment, then snapped his mouth shut. Finally he burst out laughing. "You are certainly full of surprises," he said finally, "Let's by all means do the sensible thing. I just wonder if your mind will stay made up about this ..."
Kuryakin grinned and shrugged. "Who knows. If you snore, I may change my mind right away."
"By the way," Solo said, changing the subject, "you certainly knew a lot about what we were doing together, Illya." His tone was decidedly needling.
Kuryakin found himself blushing, and was annoyed by his reaction. "I ... have had some experience in the past. It is nothing."
"Nothing? Oh come now! You have a lot of explaining to do," Solo teased.
"Napoleon, this isn't funny," Kuryakin warned.
"Oh, yes, it is. Anyway, I'm feeling just the slightest bit jealous and possessive right now."
Kuryakin couldn't help but smile at that. "I guess we should get dressed and leave here."
"You're right. Come on," Solo urged, "We really have a lot to do!"
Kuryakin nodded, sighing once more. "Well," he said, after a pause, "How do you want me to explain this in our report? I don't think they were Thrush, but I've no idea who they were. Somehow I can't imagine Thrush wanting us to become lovers, no matter how embarrassing a film might come from it. And what sort of details should I include? I won't know where to begin ..."
"Report? Forget the report. If U.N.C.L.E. gets a film, we won't need to report it. Otherwise we'll figure something else out. If these people want to attempt blackmail, let them try it. Anyway, I wasn't talking about any of that! I mean we need to start looking for that apartment."
Kuryakin felt his heart swelling inside his chest. He took a deep breath and allowed himself to smile broadly. He clearly wanted to frame some response, but could think of none.
Solo watched his partner's face. He could imagine what Kuryakin must be thinking. That perhaps -- just perhaps -- this would work out after all. That he could finally find the happiness which had somehow always alluded him ...
They stood for a moment grinning at one another. Quickly finishing their dressing they climbed up the staircase and into the empty room above. They stopped a moment to gaze at the bed below.
"I do love you, Napoleon. No matter what."
"No matter what. Now let's find a newspaper and get started. I certainly don't want to have to spend more than a night or two in that apartment of yours!"
Kuryakin punched him playfully in the arm as they moved side by side out of the room.