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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
492
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1/1
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16
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1,388

The Perfect Setting Affair

Summary:

CATEGORY: Slash
RATING: FRT-13...?
ARCHIVE: Anywhere and everywhere...
NOTES: Once again I didn't follow your instructions to the letter, Peja. [Bad, Sandra! Bad!!] I just couldn't see Napoleon forcing Illya to do something he didn't want to do...

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The Perfect Setting Affair
by Sandra Esparza

 

Napoleon Solo pulled off the main road and brought his convertible to a stop in a secluded area overlooking a lake, its surface shimmering in the glow of the full moon. When he cut the engine the world went silent save for the chirping of crickets and other denizens of the night as they chatted unobtrusively among themselves. It was summer so the weather was warm with a pleasant breeze.

It was the perfect setting for romance---and romance was Napoleon's preeminent skill!

Shifting round in his seat, his eyes roamed over the vision at his side. He had wined and dined---and bedded---the most beautiful women in the world, yet none could hold a candle to the delectable blond who sat stiffly in the passenger seat, not daring to make eye contact.

"What are you afraid of...?" Napoleon asked softly, coaxingly.

"Mr. Waverly, for one thing," Illya Kuryakin snapped irritably. "It is all very well for you to...disappoint him. You are his favored son."

"He's much more sophisticated then you give him credit for. As long as we are circumspect he won't censure us."

"There is also THRUSH to consider. If they were to discover we were..." Illya stared ahead sightlessly.

"We're *already* prime targets for them," Solo tried to reason with the problematical Russian. "We both have the scars to prove that!"

"What of your...women?"

"Gone. History."

"But are you prepared for the backlash when *they* find out...?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!"

Illya made a snorting laugh at his friend's glibness. "Honestly, Napoleon," he rolled his eyes. "At the very least, have you not considered how our co-workers will react...?"

"They will conduct themselves with professionalism," Solo said in a suddenly dark tone. "There is no room in U.N.C.L.E. for prejudice. Of *any* kind."

Illya rested the back of his head on the car seat. With his throat exposed, it was all Napoleon could do not to pounce on him and kiss the smooth skin there. He quickly turned away.

"It's getting late," he said in a constricted voice, reaching for the keys to start the ignition.

Illya made his decision.

"What the hell!" he said, pulling Napoleon close with his strong hands and capturing his mouth in a lingering, possessive kiss. When he finally released him, Solo's eyes were glazed and unfocussed, his lips full and pink.

"Geezus, Illya..." he fought to catch his breath. "If that's how you kiss I can't wait to get you in bed!"

"You asked me for a kiss and I gave you one," the cool blond folded his arms. "What makes you think you will get me in bed?"

"What makes you think I won't?" Napoleon wriggled his eyebrows at him lasciviously.

As Solo eased the car back on the road, there was an exultant curl to the Russian's smile.

 

And that's all she wrote!

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Sandra Esparza.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.