Title: Morning.

By: Paula C.

fandom: Man from UNCLE

rating: NC 17

slash: Illya/Napoleon

archive:yes

type : PWP

Morning
By: Paula C.

"Stop that!" a voice called out.

"Stop what?" a voice answered with a mock question.

"Your hand," the first voice answered with disdain.

"This hand?" The said hand reached continued to fondle its prize.

Instead of being told to get his hands off, his partner moaned instead.

The alarm had gone off five minutes earlier and they had been lying in bed, letting themselves wake up. The darker man usually enjoyed himself by holding his friend in his bed. Occasionally he got into a playful mood, like now, that he couldn't keep his hands off his blond lover.

He had his hand around his lover's cock stroking the morning hard on. The moan came to him again. Settling closer behind his lover, the darker man kissed the ear that was up. "Do you really want me to stop?" he teased.

"Nyet," his blond lover gasped out.

Continuing to nibble on his friend's ear, the hand moved to flick the flared end of his lover's cock. His lover shivered. "How I love you Illya. No one else." Napoleon confessed to him.

Eyes closed, concentrating on the feelings that were going through him, Illya repeated the last, "No one else."

"Tell me." His friends whispered into this ear, blowing warm breath, again causing him to shiver.

"There is no one else Napoleon, only you." Illya was starting to thrust his hips forward, driving his cock through the tight hold of his friends hands. Illya rocked forward then back rubbing against Napoleon's full cock. "Please Napoleon, now. Share with me."

Napoleon smiled, he couldn't resist such a plea from his friend. He released his partner to find the lube to prepare.

They had been partners for three years in the field as UNCLE field agents and been lovers for nine months. Slowly they had built their relationship up and it wasn't till last month that they had come to full capacity in loving each other.

Illya was the one that begged to have himself filled. Occasionally he would dominate Napoleon, but most he enjoyed having Napoleon take him.

Napoleon took some gel and prepared Illya then generously coated himself.

Illya continued to lie on his side. Napoleon brought one leg up between Illya's and gently pushed into the slick entrance.

Illya pushed back as Napoleon had pushed forward. Napoleon groaned with the feeling in how good it felt to be sheathed in something so tight. He marveled on how it felt like he would come so quick with such a feeling.

Slowly Napoleon rocked his hips, pulling back only a little distance then moving forward.

Illya's body shivered with each stroke. He relished in letting himself go, feeling his body be controlled by his lover.

Napoleon brought his hand around to hold his partner, stroking him as he moved his hips.

Illya moved counterpoint, one, feeling Napoleon deep in him then forward to run his cock through the grasping hand.

Napoleon kissed Illya's neck, and whispered to him how he loved it when Illya was so needy, wanting.

Illya groaned in frustration for being so close in coming but he couldn't find the relief he wanted.
He knew that Napoleon was holding back, waiting.

"Napoleon!" he ground out.

"Yes love?"

Illya groaned his frustration.

Napoleon changed the tempo and moved faster and longer into Illya. Illya picked up the tempo also. Soon he was getting stroked that soon would bring him over.

Illya's breath quickened and buried his ass on Napoleon's cock and shot his cum before him.

Napoleon felt the tension in Illya build and prepared to feel the tight ring to clamp on his cock. If he was tight before, the muscles were sweet torture. He came in Illya with a cry.

Waking up with Illya in his arms was never dull, Napoleon had to admit that.

Once recovered from their morning loving, Illya looked at the clock. "Mornings will never be the same."

Napoleon kissed the bare shoulder before him. "Mornings, noon and nights will never be the same my love. And it is only you that I will share them with."

Settling for a few minutes, their quiet moment is interrupted by the annoying chirp of their communication device . . . the dreaded pen.

END