Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin

Category: slash

Rating: PG

Word Count: 400

Notes: Written for the LiveJournal group slashthedrabble challenge #238 – “pursuit”

Original Publication Date: 6 February 2010

 

 

 

This is a rare pleasure indeed, Illya thought as he looked down from his rooftop perch, watching Napoleon as he was engaged in a foot chase with a teenage subject below. The boy seemed to have had an advantage when they were hopping a series of fences but now that they were on open ground, Napoleon was gaining on him rapidly. As with everything he did, Napoleon was graceful when he ran; powerful, measured strides illustrated the athlete under the carefully constructed playboy facade.

Illya smiled as Napoleon executed a textbook tackle before scrambling down to assist in bringing the boy in for questioning. They knew that he wasn’t involved with Thrush, but somehow the juvenile delinquent had not only managed to break into a satrap, but also steal plans for a top secret installation Thrush was constructing in Istanbul.

Upon leaving the teen in Mr. Waverly’s tender care, Illya silently followed Napoleon towards their office. Once there, Illya closed and locked the door before approaching his partner who had sat down on the couch.

Tilting Napoleon’s chin up, Illya gazed down into the warm brown eyes he adored.  “You were magnificent today, Napoleon.” Kissing him gently, Illya straddled Napoleon’s lap before stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You really were. I’ve never had the opportunity to watch you before. Not like that. So determined. So primal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so intent during a chase before.”

Napoleon’s hands moved up Illya’s arms, caressing as they found their way to his hair. Tangling his long, artistic fingers through the golden strands, he smiled ferally as he pulled Illya down for a hungry, all-consuming kiss.

Napoleon’s eyes were burning brightly as he pulled back to look into the passion-filled eyes of his lover before nuzzling his neck, roughly loosening Illya’s tie and undoing the buttons of his collar with alacrity. Napoleon growled as he explored the expanse of Illya’s neck with his teeth and tongue. “You must not have been paying close attention to my pursuit of you, dushka.” Napoleon’s voice was rough, low and erotically deadly in its intensity.

Illya arched against Napoleon, smiling as his normally oh-so-controlled partner allowed his darker, more possessive side out to play. While the chase had been exhilarating, Illya felt that letting himself be caught was the most self-indulgent thing he could have ever done. And he was loving every minute.