Title: The French Riviera Room Affair

Author: Donna

blktauna@shawstudios.com

Genre: Man from Uncle

Solo/Kuryakin

Rating:[NC-17]

Summary: PWP following the Girls of Nazarone. The tussle continues.

Archive: WWOMB, File 40, Raven's Lair, Ask me, I'll probably say yes...

**Disclaimer** MGM owns Illya and Napoleon, I just play with them. You should be over 18 and not offended by two boys in love to read this.

The Cantonese is translated at the bottom. Try not to use these phrases in polite company...

Illya closed the door on the exiting Lavinia Brown. She had broken up their last fight but her departure guaranteed its re-emergence. He watched Napoleon stalk towards him, anger in every line.

"You lousy little Russian. You had me fooled hook line and sinker."

"Napoleon! Don't you dare! Remember how you love blonds!" Illya purred soothingly.

Napoleon Solo stalked around the room with murder in his eyes.

"When I get my hands on you..."

"If you get your hands on me." Illya grinned again.

The agile blond scooted around the furniture, sliding chairs and tables into Napoleon's way. Frustration at Illya's evasive maneuvers soon made Napoleon lose his temper. He threw a large glass ashtray at Illya's knees, bringing him to the floor. The stunned blond dropped like a rock, with a yelp of surprise. Napoleon was on him in a moment. His fists pummeled down, and although Illya was fast, he didn't manage to completely evade his partner's fury. A blow to the head stunned him into submission. He lay on the floor, blue eyes blinking and hands over his head in surrender. Napoleon gasped in shock.

There was then a distinct change in his attack. His hands caressed, barely touching the surface of Illya's clothing. He knelt over his partner, pinning his wrists. His lips skimmed Illya's face. Their mouths almost touched. Both men were flushed and breathing heavily. Illya squirmed under Napoleon's weight. He felt evidence of his partner's interest push back.

"Oh I'll make you squirm, you little shit." Napoleon growled.

He closed the distance and mercilessly plundered the Russian's mouth. The Russian plundered back. They grasped and pulled, trying to mold their bodies into one another. Illya wriggled, his legs wrapping around Napoleon's hips. With one quick motion, he rolled Napoleon beneath him, fingers tearing at his clothes. The tie slithered off and was tossed aside. Buttons popped free. He slid his hands up under Napoleon's shirt, yanking it open and out of his way. His mouth latched onto his partner's navel and chewed. He nipped his way up Napoleon's stomach and chest, tongue swabbing over straining nipples. Napoleon moaned and clutched at him. Illya growled and slowly pulled himself up from his panting partner. A small smile danced over his mouth. He shrugged out of his jacket and toed out of his shoes without losing eye contact with sprawled brunet. His holster was tossed aside with little ceremony.

"Now who is the squirming shit?"

Napoleon laughed. Illya's grin turned wolfish. He slid his thumbs under his sweater and lifted them slowly. Napoleon's eyes followed the rise of the sweater hem. Illya stopped at the line of his ribs. He flicked the edge of the sweater clear of his pants and let it drop again. His lips twitched as he saw Napoleon move involuntarily towards him. He took a step away from his partner while he stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers and slid them forward, towards his belt buckle. Napoleon's
hands jerked. Illya cocked his hip forward and undid his belt. He pulled it free with one quick yank and dropped it on the floor. Napoleon flowed upright. Illya's fingers toyed with the top button on his pants. His tongue swiped over his lips as one hand slid over his straining cock. He stepped back as Napoleon stepped forward. Illya popped the top button and ran a finger over his zipper. Napoleon lunged. He snatched up his smaller partner and tossed him onto one of the beds.

"You are the most incredible tease, Illya."

The blond sprawled artfully after the second bounce.

"I never tease, Napoleon," he purred.

Napoleon shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it onto the other bed. Illya's eyes followed him. Napoleon smiled and moved slowly towards the reclining blond. Illya's lip trembled. Napoleon climbed up the bed towards him.

"True, you just make me work for it."

Napoleon slid one hand up a slim leg. He tickled his fingers over his partner's crotch and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. He slipped one finger up along Illya's zipper and chuckled as Illya fought to keep himself from squirming.

"And today it looks like I won't have to work too hard..."

Napoleon slid up the length of the shivering blond. He mouthed Illya's chin, jaw and neck until his partner was shaking. His fingers teased Illya some more, then pulled the zipper none too gently over the blond¹s aching cock. He shoved fabric aside and took Illya in hand, teasing him with his thumb. Illya¹s teeth were suddenly embedded in his shoulder.

"Le ho mo! Le sei ga!" Illya shouted when Napoleon pried him off. 1

"I wondered what would come out this time." His tongue flicked around a delicate ear.

"Le bah po!" Illya arched under the caresses. 2

Napoleon's hand picked up the pace. His mouth was burrowed along Illya's neck, leaving marks of its interest. Illya writhed and groaned. Napoleon nuzzled his ear.

"Now my fine little Russian, I want you to come for me."

Napoleon's hands knew him well. They knew every spot and every point that could make Illya scream. They hit all of them. Illya screamed. When Illya sagged back into the bed gasping, Napoleon ran a wet thumb over his lip.

"And can you please do something more useful with that mouth than swear at me in Cantonese?"

Illya's tongue swiped over his own wetness. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and smiled.

"Ho. Le ho homsup..." 3

Illya slipped from his partner's embrace, kicking his shorts and trousers out of the way. He shoved his sweater sleeves up and climbed back onto the bed. He ran his hands lightly over Napoleon's torso. He grinned at the little shivers of delight. He shifted himself to kneel between Napoleon's knees, thumbs trailing up inner thighs. His fast fingers undid his partner's belt and trouser button. Napoleon sighed as a bright blond head bent over his crotch. Illya's teeth dragged over his zipper, then pulled it down. Strong fingers tore at cloth. Fearing for his suit, Napoleon helped slide his trousers out of the way. His shorts were tossed aside.

"Tung, tung le gong 'please'..." he slurred. 4

Illya ran his tongue down the crease of Napoleon's thigh. His hot mouth took possession of Napoleon's throbbing cock. He was also extremely familiar with Napoleon's hot spots and lavished heated attention on all of them.

"Jung m'jungyi ah? Ngoh sik le ho jungyi." he cooed. 5

As Napoleon moaned and writhed, he suddenly felt the sharp and purposeful pressure of teeth.

"Jesus Christ, Illya!" He grabbed two fistfuls of blond hair and dragged Illya's lips away from his cock. "That's it!"

Napoleon grabbed the bottom of Illya's sweater and yanked it over his head, effectively trapping him. He sat on the thrashing blond until he could knot the sweater cleanly.

"You little fiend. Now you'll pay."

Napoleon hauled his kicking bundle off the bed and into the bathroom. He rummaged in Illya's shaving kit until the prize located. He dragged both the jar of glycerin and rosewater lotion and Illya back to the bed. He dropped Illya and undid the lid of the jar.

"Looks like your desire for softer skin has saved your ass again."

A muffled sound emerged from the sweater. Napoleon slapped the plump ass under him. Illya squirmed. Napoleon took a generous dollop of the lotion and applied it to Illya without bothering to warm it. He evaded a flying foot.

"Oh no, my friend. No complaints from you."

Napoleon hauled Illya to his knees and tipped him forward. His slim fingers easily slipped into his partner. Illya moved with him. Napoleon teased. Illya pushed back against his hand.

"Can't wait, eh?"

A muffled sob emerged from the sweater. Napoleon swatted him again. He liberally applied the lotion to himself, shivering a bit.

"Hoo, that is chilly, isn't it?"

He stroked Illya's ass lightly, then slowly pushed in. He gripped his partner's hips and began to stroke. Napoleon ran his tongue up Illya's spine, then chewed on a muscular shoulder. Napoleon's hands stroked Illya's skin, fingers sliding around and teasing Illya's sensitive sides. Gasping and unintelligible curses emanated from the sweater. Illya's mobile shoulders rolled under Napoleon's lips. The entrapping sweater slipped and Illya managed to free his head. He gulped for
breath.

"Le bugai..." he gasped as he pushed his hips against Napoleon. 6

They moved together, harder and faster. Napoleon's thighs began to shake as his pleasure reached its peak. He grabbed Illya by the waist and with his final thrust, pulled his partner back into his lap. He licked the sweat from Illya's glistening throat as they both fought for breath. One hand idly stroked up and down Illya's trim torso.

"Now, had you behaved, I might have helped you with this."

Illya groaned as Napoleon's fingers delicately toyed with his aching cock.

"M'yiu le," he growled, batting the burning fingers away. 7

Illya shook his hands free from the entangling sweater. He settled against Napoleon's broad chest and took matters into his own hands. He stroked himself slowly, his breath hitching with each caress. Napoleon watched each stroke hungrily. Illya's cock rhythmically vanished into his large square hands. He moaned, the ends of his hair teasing Napoleon's neck. Napoleon clutched his partner more tightly and buried his face into sweaty blond hair.

"Dear God..." Napoleon whispered as he slid Illya from his lap and tossed him back onto the bed.

He pried Illya's hands away and replaced them with his mouth. He licked and sucked lightly, more teasing than satisfying. He ran his teeth lightly down the length of Illya's thick shaft. He was encouraged by the throaty growls of his victim.

"Just because you like teeth, tovarishch, doesn't mean I do. Remember that."

Napoleon thought he sensed agreement in Illya's thrashing. In reward, he sucked hard, deep and fast. Illya came with a deep shout and collapsed bonelessly. His lips moved but no sound emerged. Napoleon kissed him, hard. Illya held him tight.

"Mmmm, that was fun."

Illya snorted. He ran his fingers through Napoleon's hair.

"See... I knew you liked blonds," he croaked.

"One far more than the others."

Napoleon looked down on his boneless partner and smiled as Illya dozed off.

The transliterations are by sound, not by any actual system. Most are way too filthy for most people to say ;)

1 @&$%%%%!!, @&$%%%%!!
2 @&$%%%%!!
3 Ok you @&$%%%%
4 And since you said 'please'...
5 Do you like this? I know you do.
6 @&$%%%%!!
7 Don't need you.