"Hold on, fellas, you don't really—"
I had to forgive Lavinia for not catching on to the undercurrents in the room—she'd led a very sheltered life, from all appearances.
Napoleon was another matter.
"Oh, yes I do," Napoleon ground out as he bounced from foot to foot, trying to avoid Lavinia and get at me at the same time.
"Have a nice trip, Lavinia," I said as I ushered her towards the door. "It's been lovely knowing you. Enjoy telling your students about your trip to the French Riviera."
"But—" she protested, pushing back slightly against my hand at her waist. Amazing—earlier she couldn't throw us out of her room fast enough, and now she wouldn't leave.
"Don't drive too fast," I said as I pushed her through the door and quickly closed it behind her.
"I thought you weren't ever going to get her out of here," Napoleon growled in my ear as he plastered his body along my back. I fell solidly against the door with a thud.
"Now, Napoleon," I smiled, not bothering to hide it any more, as he grabbed my wrists. "You don't think—"
"I don't think what, Illya?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse with barely restrained desire. "I don't think you were going to tell me about the formula's major flaw until after I'd told Mr. Waverly that Dr. Egret had made a clean getaway with it?" He thrust forward abruptly with his hips, shoving me harder against the door. I could feel the thick length of him through the material of our pants.
"Of course not," I panted, "would I do such a thing, lyubovnik?" I managed to get one arm loose and grabbed him by the neck, holding him firmly against me as I swung us around. He hit the door with an "oof!" and his grip on me loosened momentarily, giving me enough leeway to slide quickly out of his grasp and move this party elsewhere.
Napoleon was off like a shot after me, only a couple of steps behind as I vaulted over the couch. A sound suspiciously like a growl emerged from his throat as he gamely followed me around the suite's lounge furniture, feinting left then right, trying to trip me up so he'd have me caught again. We rounded the furniture nearest the door before I made a break and headed towards the chairs in front of the fireplace.
He gave a feral smile and stalked towards me. "You don't really think you're going to get away with it that easily, do you?"
"No, I'm fairly certain I'm not," I replied, giving him what I hoped was an equally lascivious grin. "But surely you don't think I'm going to give in that easily either, do you?"
"I wasn't counting on it."
And then the hunt was really on.
I rounded the chairs and took a leap over the first bed, darting out into the center of the room as Napoleon followed and stumbled against the other bed.
It had been odd, in the beginning, having a chase that consisted of two predators and no prey—but we'd gotten used to it. We were too much the other's equal to be anything but ourselves when we were together. We'd both learned to adapt, to play whatever role was needed for the situation.
Apparently, it was my turn to play the fox.
We careened carelessly around the room in a similar fashion, dodging this way and that, no sounds in the room but muffled curses as chairs moved spontaneously into Napoleon's path, the thud of footfalls and our increasingly rapid breathing.
In the end, it was Napoleon's suitcase that did me in.
I was flying around the corner of the second bed on my third almost-lap of the room when I tripped over the foot of the luggage rack and staggered towards the sliding doors that opened onto our balcony. Napoleon completed my journey by barreling up from behind and I ended up with my cheek pressed against the glass, his arms pinning my torso and his feet between mine, spreading them apart so I couldn't get enough balance to wriggle away again.
"I feel like a bug in an entomologist's display case."
"Feeling a bit squashed, are we?" It never ceased to amaze me how Napoleon could convey barrels full of smugness in one sentence.
"What's this 'we,' kemo sabe?" I retorted. "I don't see you pressed against the cold glass and splayed for everyone to examine your genitalia in minute detail."
A wicked laugh rumbled through his chest as he worked one hand between my straining hardness and the glass. "And over here we have the fascinating and very rare Illyus kuryakinus, believed to be the only living example of its kind. Take note of the unusual markings of the dominant and predatory male, the flashy coloring and the prominent genitalia."
The laughter I'd been holding in since Lavinia had left burst out. I could feel Napoleon's deep chuckle rumbling through his chest where he was still pressed against my back.
He dropped a quick kiss on the nape of my neck before moving his mouth to whisper in my ear. "But I couldn't do something that heartless—lock you up as if you were a Ming vase, a treasured but untouchable possession? Not for me, my love."
He moved his other hand to my chest, gently stroking as he continued speaking. "I like to let my hands roam all over you, taking in your lean and lithe body—it's so deceptively strong and yet so frighteningly fragile at the same time. I like to remember you with my hands when you're not near, knowing that the next time I see you again I'll be free to do it for real."
I could feel my eyes closing of their own accord as he levered us gently away from the cold glass. Strong arms encircled my waist, holding my suddenly boneless body upright and slowly marching us towards the nearest bed. He continued, his low murmurs washing over me, leading me into that warm and safe place I found myself in only when I was with Napoleon.
"I like to run my hands through your silky hair—about which you are justifiably and oh-so-amusingly vain." He gently turned me around and slid my jacket off as he slowly continued talking. "I like to feel the smoothness of your skin on your neck and the stubble roughness of it under your jaw."
My turtleneck was quickly whisked over my head, baring my torso to the cool air. My eyes flew open as I felt him rub his nose along my chest and I watched as he sniffed me.
"I like to smell you—that indescribable scent that says 'Illya' to me—sweat and soap and shampoo and gunpowder. I like to taste you." His tongue swept quickly out to lap at my brazenly stiff nipple. "I like to roll you around on my tongue, trying to imagine what you've done today that would make you taste of whatever you taste of."
He wrinkled his nose in that way he has, the one that usually expresses his displeasure at being dumped in water, then looked up at me and continued with an ever-so-slightly suppressed grin. "Which is straw, by the way."
A chuff of laughter escaped me. "And I wonder whose fault that is. Oh wait—yes, I do believe it's my partner's fault."
"How about if I make it up to you, hmm?" He straightened up slowly, crowding me, stroking me with his body.
"Yes, I think I'll let you."
"'Let' me?" he growled. "We'll see about that."
"I don't know—it took you long enough to subdue those two poor, defenseless, innocent girls. I imagine it will take you considerably longer to make me do anything."
It probably wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had, but I couldn't help it—I had to laugh at the irritated look on his face at that remark.
An inarticulate growl came from him this time—and it was all the warning I got that he was going to dump me on the bed.
I grunted as he landed on top of me, but he didn't give me any time to comment as he quickly dove for the tendons at the crux of my neck and shoulder. A sharp bite pulled a gasp from me and I slung my arms tightly around him, grabbing his buttocks firmly and grinding him down onto me harder as I slid my legs apart to cradle his hips.
He'd moved to sucking at my collarbone now, his soft hair tickling my neck in such contrast to the firm hands that had snaked their way between us to fumble with my belt.
"My feet are—going to go numb—if we stay in this position," I gasped.
I felt his smile against my chest before he silently lifted himself up on his hands to let me scoot further up the bed. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as I lay back again. I held my hand out to him, smiling as he stalked up the bed on his hands and knees, surrounding me on all sides. I grabbed his tie and dragged his face down to mine, hungrily devouring his mouth as he lowered himself on top of me again.
I quickly worked the knot of the tie loose and tossed it off to the side before attacking the buttons on his shirt. He reared up and sat back on his haunches as he pulled the dress shirt off, quickly following it with the white undershirt, both of which were flung to the floor. He leaned in to undo the button on my slacks as I slipped off my shoes. He pulled the pants and shorts down off my hips as I raised them up, then grabbed my left leg and bent it sharply at the knee as he slid it out of the confining pants. He planted my foot firmly by his knee, leaving my leg bent and raised. He repeated the action with my other leg, finishing up with my legs bent and spread on either side of him.
"You're—" I cleared my throat, "you're overdressed for this party, lyubovnik."
"Not for long," he said, smiling that devil-may-care smile as he stood on the bed between my upraised legs, watching me all the while as he toed off his shoes, then went to work on removing his belt. He drew it out of the loops, dropping it to the floor with the rest of our clothes and then his hands moved to his zipper, dragging it down slowly. He finally undid the button and even more slowly slid pants and briefs down over his jutting erection, then kicked them off on to the floor.
He grasped his hardness, running his fingers along the bottom before teasing the slit, his eyes holding mine. They flicked down my body and his smile grew larger as he saw my erection throb in answer. "Did you want something, Illya?" Oh, such a smug tone of voice.
It was my turn to growl. "You. Now."
He jumped down from the bed to rummage in my suitcase, emerging with the Vaseline kept in my shaving kit. He bounded back to where he'd been standing between my legs and sank back to his knees.
"Give me your pillow."
I pulled it out from under my head and lifted my hips again as he slid it underneath me. I shivered as he lightly trailed his fingers along the backs of my thighs before firmly grabbing my knees. He pushed my knees further apart and leaned in to nip at my stomach.
I tangled my hands in his hair as he moved slowly down my body, drawing nearer and nearer to the center of my need. Relief, when it came, was a mixed blessing—he alternately nipped and softly blew on my erection as it pulsed with the pounding of the blood coursing through my body.
His talented fingers found their way into me, stretching and stroking until I was almost ready to burst from the multitude of stimuli.
"Now!" I gasped, thrusting myself up, trying to shorten the distance between his mouth and my groin.
"But, Illya," he grinned up at me, head tilted against my inner thigh, "I'm conducting a scientific study, remember? When else will I have the occasion to observe the mating habits of the rare and wonderful Illyus kuryakinus?"
"Any time you like," I replied, my voice husky. "You know that."
"Mmmmm, yes, I do."
"However, at the moment, this Illyus is about to expire from lack of mating. Maybe you can do something about it?"
His long middle finger stroked my prostate, causing me to squirm even more. "I suppose I've studied the subject sufficiently to draw my conclusion about its mating habits."
"Oh?" I gasped. "And what conclusion have you reached?"
He slowly licked his way up my body, removing his fingers from inside me once he'd reached my mouth. "Only the most important thing: that it mates for life."
"That it does." I grabbed hold of his head, turning it to the side so I could whisper in his ear. "Do you know it likes to mark its mate?" I wrapped my legs firmly around his hips, urging him closer, biting down hard on his shoulder as he thrust deeply into me.
"Oh, believe me, this mate is marked—all over my heart."
"Ahhhhh—that's good," I panted, straining to reach the soul-shattering conclusion that I knew was so near, "I wouldn't want you—to be distracted—by any of those—other blonds you might like."
He thrust again, hard and rough, continuing it, forcing us both over the precipice, following me as I clenched my entire body around him. A strangled groan erupted from him as he continued to hold himself slightly above me, arms shaking with the strain until he collapsed on top of me again, heart racing and panting desperately for breath.
We lay like that for a few minutes, awash in adrenaline and sweat, our bodies slowly coming down from the high of loving each other. His head was cradled on my shoulder and his hand was gently petting my side as our racing hearts resumed their normal pace.
Mine sped up again as he spoke softly against my neck.
"I may like many blonds," he said, "but I only love one."
It's all James' fault—he very generously sent me a copy of this episode, along with many others. So this one's for James. Thanks, James! *vbg*
It's for V, too—who adores sexy, talky Napoleon. *vbg*
Feedback: email.