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He sat on the floor of yet another THRUSH cell, his hands securely tied behind his back and somewhat the worse for wear. Settling back against the wall, Illya Kuryakin had time to ponder…about caring. Caring could be dangerous, especially if the person you cared about was your partner. Caring about innocents was also dangerous as indicated by the predicament he was in now. For some unknown reason this thought brought his mind around to sex. It always exasperated him how his partner could romance so many woman. But he also admired the fact that Napoleon could find pleasure without really letting it touch him. He was supposed to be like that he’d been told. An Iceman. Not to be touched. Ha.
He tried again to loosen the bonds that held him. They would be coming for him soon. What would it be this time, drugs or just some good old fashion torture? He gave up trying and leaned his head back against the wall closing his eyes.
Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall toward his cell, the key turning in the lock and then most surprising a familiar voice.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. I’ve come to take you away from all this.”
“What took you so long?” Illya asked with a scowl that he didn’t mean.
Napoleon growled in response as he reached behind his partner to cut him free.
As the ropes slid away, Illya rubbed his wrist. Then reaching up with both hands, grabbed Napoleon’s face and gave him a breathtaking kiss.
“I must rescue you more often,” Napoleon gasped in surprise.
Then both men rose and made good their escape.