Napoleon leaned against the lab sink as he spoke to his friend. "Cutter said your performance was excellent in Survival School."

"Umm..." Kuryakin murmured non-committally as he examined the liquid in the beaker he held to the light. Napoleon's eyes followed the path of his friend's eyes, noting the liquid had changed to a pale blue. Almost the same color as Illya's eyes, he thought distractedly.

He yanked his mind back on its original track. "Cutter said you were the best in the class."

"How flattering," he said with no apparent interest. He emptied the beaker down the sink.

Enthralled, Napoleon watched the now amber liquid flow down the stainless steel sink. Maybe this scientist should be working at the nearby magic shop. He blinked, refocusing on his path of discussion. "You should be in Enforcement."

Illya laid the beaker on the counter and looked at him directly. "Just because someone does well at the Survival School is not a reason to be an Enforcement agent."

"Why did you take the training?"

"I wanted to be more versatile. To keep my options open, as you Americans say."

"You were great. Cutter said you stayed on to give the explosives training. He said that anyone that good should be in Section Two."

"I like working as a scientist. I'm good at it," he said mildly. "Why do you care anyway?"

"I'd like to work with you."

"How do you know we would work together if I transferred to Section Two? I might be assigned to Northeast."

"No, you wouldn't," Napoleon said eagerly. "Mr. Waverly wants to keep you here. He likes the idea of having a Soviet agent."

"This is something you have discussed with Mr. Waverly?" His interest in the lab experiment was diverted. "You've talked about me transferring to Enforcement?"

"Not directly." In actuality, Waverly had not said Illya's name. "But he has mentioned he would like a Soviet in Enforcement. So does Elliot." Elliot Sanders, head of Section II.

Illya frowned, discarding the notion. Waverly didn't appear to be particularly interested or aware of him. He knew he was rather unremarkable in appearance and the work in Section IV was not as high profile as the work produced by Sections II and III.

"There is no guarantee we would work together very often." He jotted something in his lab book.

"We could work as partners."

"Partners? Section Two agents are assigned partners?"

"Not officially. But a lot of agents like to work in teams. Elliot doesn't mind."

"Have you...worked with someone as a partner?" He knew Napoleon had worked in Enforcement for two years.

"Sometimes. But mostly I work solo." They both smiled at the pun.

At that moment, Napoleon's communicator beeped. He took out the cigarette case and opened it. "Solo here."

"Mr. Solo, Mr. Sanders would like to see you in his office," Callie French, the administrative secretary for Section II, said.

"Tell him I'm on my way." He closed the cigarette case. "I'm trying to give up smoking. Section Four should come up with another model."

"I'll put it on my list of things to do." Illya smiled.

Napoleon's smile in return was only slightly dampened by disappointment.

"Sure you won't consider a transfer?"

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Good." Napoleon patted him on the arm. "I gotta go."

*****

He thought about the Russian as he made his way through the corridors to Sanders's office.

Illya had come to New York Headquarters only four months ago after a year in the London office. Even though they were in different departments, they had become friends. Napoleon had seen the newcomer eating by himself in the commissary. He didn't think anyone should have to eat lunch alone. He had joined him that day and found that despite their different backgrounds, their different departments, he really liked the guy.

Despite the language difference - Illya's native language was Russian and his English was of the British variety - Illya's sense of humor came through and meshed very well with Napoleon's own.

They ate lunch together most of the time now when Napoleon was not away on assignment and sometimes they got together after work.

The idea of spending more time together in the course of the workday appealed to Napoleon. But Illya didn't seem to be taking the idea of a departmental transfer seriously.

"Napoleon..." Sanders motioned him into his office. "I have an assignment to discuss."

Elliot Sanders usually didn't preface his assignments at all, much less with such a solemn tone. Napoleon came in and cautiously took a chair.

"The nature of this assignment is rather...delicate." He cleared his throat. "You've had assignments before where for the purpose of the mission you've...er...romanced a woman. Sometimes bedded her."

Napoleon nodded. It was something he had done occasionally to gain the confidence of an enemy agent. There was always a risk involved, but for the most part it was an aspect of the job that he enjoyed.

"This time...we're asking something that might be more...er...challenging." He glanced down at the manila folder. "Have you ever had sex with a man?"

"Excuse me?" This was not a question he expected to hear.

"I need to know. I promise that anything you tell me will not be used against you."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Nothing? Nothing in the military?"

He had been approached once or twice but had never even been tempted. "Never."

"Oh." His superior looked slightly disappointed. "It would have been fortuitous if you had."

"Fortuitous?" What in the world was this all about?

"I need an agent to go undercover - for a short time. A rather highly placed WASP official will be visiting New York for the annual WASP conference. We know for a fact that he is a homosexual. He advertised for a male companion for the duration of his visit."

"And you think that he'd want to use this companion as his...bed warmer?"

"Well...yes."

"And you want me to...?

"Yes. We need to monitor that conference. WASP's security is so tight we've never been able to work out its location. The attendees are closely guarded, but one of them indulges in certain proclivities we can use to our advantage. We need an agent to plant a listening device on this official. It will give us invaluable information on WASP's operations."

Napoleon cleared his throat in embarrassment. This was not something he'd expected to be asked to do. "Why me?" he asked. There were at least eighty agents in the New York office alone. Surely they could find someone more suitable for the job.

"Well...you're young." He was twenty-eight. "You're competent. You're unknown to WASP. And you have a pretty face."

"So my mother tells me," he said ruefully.

It was not something Napoleon wanted to do, but he could not seriously consider refusing the assignment. If he refused, his chances of advancement in the organization were over. And Solo was committed to a career in this organization. He was not going to let an aversion to homosexual activity get in the way.

"The man's name is Andre, Jorge Andre. He's from Brazil. The Bahia region."

Napoleon looked at the photograph that was attached to the left-hand side of the folder. The man was blond, bearded. "Brazil?" He had expected a swarthy brunet.

Sanders anticipated his curiosity. "It's a melting pot down there."

"Oh." He looked again at the picture. He didn't even know how to have sex with a man. And Sanders expected him to just go in and do it?

There were other times he had gone undercover for an assignment. Heather, the administrative assistant from Section I, had put him under hypnosis on occasion to help indoctrinate him into roles. Did they have a tape for this? Was Heather going to indoctrinate him? The idea of the attractive woman helping him prepare for this role was uncomfortable. "When?"

"Andre will arrive in three weeks. I'm not putting you on anything important before then so you'll have some time to prepare yourself for the role."

Prepare myself? How the hell am I going to prepare myself to do that?

"You'll need to undergo a medical exam to make sure that there won't be any complications."

Medical exam? Oh.

He gave Napoleon a sheet of paper that he recognized as the standard form they used for medical examinations. Napoleon looked at the writing and saw he had written in 'Z-48.' They had a code for it?

He walked out of Sanders's office with a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he were going to his doom. He didn't want this—he really wanted to refuse this assignment. But refusing wasn't even an option. The only way out would be to resign from U.N.C.L.E.

And he didn't give that option more than a second's thought.

He had committed himself to 'go and do whatever he was told' by his superiors. He understood that might mean killing or being killed or tortured. He believed in the organization enough to trust that Section I would not ask him to do something unless they thought it was necessary to defeat an organization that threatened world peace.

But this was so...sordid.

*****

The admitting nurse looked at the form authorizing the medical exam. She was one that he had not seen before. She was older than most of the women in the organization, late forties with graying hair. Just as well. If she were younger and a potential date, this would really kill the possibility of romance.

She led him into the exam room and gave him a white gown. "Put this on. It opens in the front."

"Oh."

"The doctor will be here in a few minutes." Her face revealed nothing. Did she know? Napoleon felt a flush creep up on his neck. She probably did.

He undressed and put on the skimpy gown. Why were exam rooms always so cold? He settled himself on the exam table, the vinyl cold against his bare thighs.

There were few places he would rather be less than this one. He amused himself trying to think of such a place. There was that time that he had been caught infiltrating the WASP satrapy at the wharf and they had hung him upside down for thirty hours. Yeah, that had been worse.

The doctor came in: Chasen, an internist who had given Napoleon his annual physical last year. Not a bad guy. At least his hands weren't cold.

Chasen looked at the clipboard. "Z-48." He glanced up at Napoleon. "You understand what that means?"

"Er...yes. It means I have to have sex with another man. For the mission."

"Yes. Most likely anal sex."

Napoleon cringed at hearing the word spoken so bluntly. But Chasen spoke without affectation as if he had had occasion to explain this before.

"Does this...do agents do this often?"

"It doesn't come up that often. Maybe once or twice a year in this region." He shrugged. "The assignment is usually given to a younger agent. Chances are you won't be required to do this more than the one time."

"Oh." Couldn't have passed me by, he thought ruefully.

"Have you had sex with another man before?"

"No, I haven't. I didn't think that was something that U.N.C.L.E. approved of."

Chasen frowned. "There are a few homosexuals in the organization. It's not grounds for dismissal."

Napoleon was surprised. Homosexuals allowed in U.N.C.L.E.? He wouldn't have thought it was a good idea to allow it, and yet... "If there are homosexuals already, why wasn't one of them given the assignment? Wouldn't that be more...er...convincing?"

"They might not fit the profile that the subject requires."

And I do?

He sat up while the doctor did the first part of the examination, checking out his eyes, ears and throat, using his stethoscope to listen to his back and chest.

He directed Napoleon to lie on his back then palpated his abdomen. The doctor put a small drape over Napoleon's knees.

"I need you to sit at the end of the table. Here, sit with your bottom here."

Chasen elevated the head of the table. He pulled out the stirrups and adjusted the foot holders so that they were about six inches above the table surface. "Lay back," he told him and Napoleon complied. This was a type of examination Napoleon had not experienced before and his stomach clenched with apprehension.

Chasen pulled a rubber glove on one hand, then the other. He lubricated his gloved hands. Napoleon realized the doctor was being as gentle as possible, but the exam was uncomfortable. He stared at the ceiling as the gloved hand probed inside.

"No hemorrhoids," the doctor reported cheerfully.

Oh great. Does that mean if I had hemorrhoids I wouldn't be eligible for this assignment?

The doctor took the gloves off and tossed them into the disposal bin. "You're fine physically. You can dress and then I'll talk to you in my office."

*****

Napoleon sat in the chair facing the doctor. Chasen studied the paperwork in front of him and made some notations.

"You've had some recent blood work so I don't think we need to do it again." He took out his prescription pad. "I'm going to put you on a round of antibiotics as a cautionary measure. Begin taking them today and continue taking them for two weeks after the assignment is complete." He looked up from his writing. "I know that this is difficult for you. You're young; you're inexperienced with this kind of sex. You're going to have to be a quick study. When you go to the enemy's bed he must believe that you are experienced with this. Otherwise the mission...and your life...are going to be jeopardized. Am I making myself clear?"

Napoleon swallowed his reservations. Chasen was being a professional. "Perfectly clear. Do you have any...advice as to how I can obtain this...experience?"

The doctor nodded. "We have one employee who has worked undercover on this type of mission when he was younger. And he has helped other agents prepare. Do you know Lou Cidrone?"

"Section Three, right?"

Chasen nodded. "I think he will be able to help you. Go talk to him and tell him that you need to prepare for a Z-48 assignment."

The doctor stood up, indicating that their meeting was over, and walked him toward the door. He looked hesitant as if he were not sure he should say what he was going to say, but then said it anyway. "I don't know that I agree with this type of assignment. But Section One seems to think it is worth the cost. You might need some help dealing with this afterward."

The cost?

"Good luck with this, Napoleon." It was the first time the doctor had called him by his first name. Napoleon was gratified. They shook hands and Napoleon left the office.

*****

He thought that, instead of finishing out the day, he would go home early. He started to leave the Medical Section but the turmoil in his head made him hesitate before he summoned the elevator. For the first time he could remember, he had doubts about his decision to be an U.N.C.L.E. agent. Was this what he had joined U.N.C.L.E. for? To be a male Mata Hari? Napoleon swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

How was he going to get through this? What kind of organization would expect their agents to do something like this?

What kind of an organization would expect its agents to kill?

He leaned against the corridor wall.

They wouldn't be asking him to do this unless it was necessary. Napoleon did have some faith in Sanders and even more in Alexander Waverly.

Waverly had given them a lecture as recruits: "Sometimes we will ask you to do things that are dangerous, actions that appear unreasonable, distasteful. Possibly humiliating.

"It is not your job to question your orders. It is your job to go and do what you are told to do. You are a cog in the machine. Intelligence gathers data and you will usually not be privy to the entire picture. Section One compiles the intelligence reports. That is our privilege and our responsibility.

"You, agents of Section Two, get to risk your lives on a daily basis."

Napoleon did believe in the cause. He did have a lot of respect for Alexander Waverly. He didn't know everything, but he had seen enough of what went on to know there was a need for U.N.C.L.E. to combat organizations such as WASP.

*****

Napoleon rode the elevator to Section III. He found Cidrone and another agent, John Michaels, working at their desks. They looked up as Napoleon came in.

"Napoleon Solo," said Michaels. "What's a hot shot Section Two doing in our lowly office?"

Michaels had been in Solo's class in Survival School. Though he was the same age as Napoleon, he had not been selected for Section II. Napoleon remembered him as being competent but not outstanding. There was undoubtedly a bit of jealousy on his part that Napoleon had made the cut and he hadn't.

I'd be happy to trade places with you now, John, Napoleon thought silently. He didn't answer but turned to the man he had come to see. "Lou, can I speak to you...privately," he said in a low voice.

Michaels overheard. "Ooh...hush-hush secret agent business. Maybe they're going to move you to Section Two, Lou."

Napoleon was annoyed but not really angry. The teasing wouldn't have bothered him if he had been consulting Cidrone on a less embarrassing assignment. "Right, John. This is a 'need to know' sort of thing."

Michaels shrugged, accepting it.

"We can talk in Peter's office. He's away at a meeting," Lou suggested. Peter Schrab was the head of Section III.

They walked into the office and Napoleon closed the door.

Cidrone perched on the edge of the desk and faced him. "It's a Z-48 assignment, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And you hate the idea."

Napoleon nodded.

"I understand," he said sympathetically. "I imagine it's the same for you as it would be for me if I had to fuck a woman for an assignment."

Napoleon's eyes widened. "Have you?"

Cidrone laughed. "No. They have plenty of straights who are glad to do it. Besides, I'm in Section Three. Fucking the enemy is a Section Two assignment."

The two men assessed each other. Cidrone's brown eyes were kind. It suddenly occurred to Napoleon that, though Cidrone was not really handsome, he was pleasant looking and other homosexual men might find him attractive.

This is the first step, he thought. I'm starting to look at people as a homosexual would. Then shot himself down for the condescending thought. You don't know anything.

Cidrone walked over to Napoleon till they were close. He took Napoleon's face between his hands and kissed him.

Napoleon was too stunned to react at first. He tried to move but Cidrone had his face in a firm grip.

The kiss continued. Cidrone used his tongue to force Napoleon's lips apart. The tongue invaded, aggressively exploring Napoleon's mouth.

After a moment Cidrone retreated, pulling back his tongue, softening the kiss, and gradually ending it. His breathing had become hard. His hands stayed on Napoleon's face, caressing. "Is this repulsing you?"

It hadn't really. "No..."

"But it doesn't particularly turn you on, does it?"

The question seemed more rhetorical than questioning. Obviously he was not turned on. Napoleon had no doubts about his sexual orientation.

"You're going to have to learn to like it. At least-" he touched Napoleon lightly at the crotch, "-at least enough to fool the mark. And while Mata Hari could fake it, you can't."

Napoleon felt his face turn fiery hot in a blush. He felt an instinct to push the other man's hand away, to punch him for daring to touch him there.

But Cidrone was doing this to help him. He had asked for his help; he needed his expertise to accomplish this mission. He suppressed the urge toward rebellion.

"That bothered you, didn't it?" He studied Napoleon's face and then nodded as if he had received an answer. "You're gong to have to accept it from another man. To accept it casually. And to accept a lot more." He stopped and glanced at the calendar on his desk. "When is the liaison?"

"April twenty-third."

"Three weeks... ah...the WASP conference. They're putting you on Andre, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"That's fortunate. He is not an inconsiderate lover. Not rough."

"Then you've...been with him?"

"I've never had the pleasure. But I've debriefed several agents that have."

As you will be debriefing me, Napoleon thought. How strange. This man he barely knew was going to teach him about another kind of sex and then question him on every intimate detail of what he would do with another man.

"I have an assignment tomorrow," Cidrone said. "Mike and I have been tracking some Mafia counterfeiters in Jersey. We have to deliver the plates to the Treasury Department in D.C. We'll be busy with that for the next two days.

"We'll start tonight and then we'll have the weekend."

"Great." Napoleon forced a smile, thinking glumly that he would have to break two dates.

"I live in the East End building, apartment 21A." One of the U.N.C.L.E. buildings about three blocks from Headquarters. "Come by after work tonight. Five-thirty." He walked him out of the inner office.

Napoleon left Section III to go back to his own cubicle in Section II where he had two days' worth of reports to write from his last three assignments.

He didn't get a thing done.

*****

Illya took off his lab coat and hung it on the back of the door. Everyone else had left at least an hour ago.

Illya had no trouble keeping up with his work. He had been analyzing a paralysis gas they had discovered during a raid on a WASP satrapy; he had broken down the components and concocted an antidote. The report was neatly typed and delivered to his section chief.

He had considered a new model of communicator for Enforcement, even done some preliminary drawings. Sometimes Napoleon stopped by at the end of the day if he didn't have a date; occasionally they went out to eat.

It didn't appear that his friend was going to stop by today. He tried to push the disappointment out of his mind. Very likely Napoleon had a date. Or he might have gotten together with a co-worker from Section II. He would be able to discuss work-related topics more easily with the other Enforcement agents.

He had told Napoleon earlier that day that he would consider transferring, but he hadn't really meant it. But the idea began to percolate through his mind. Section II agents were better paid. Women seemed drawn to Section II agents.

There was a lot of travel, and Illya did like to travel. It would be an opportunity to see more of the United States.

I'd be working with Napoleon.

He was almost overwhelmed at how appealing that idea was.

*****

Napoleon had tried to eat dinner but he didn't have much of an appetite. Cidrone's apartment was hardly far enough to take a cab. He walked from his own apartment and found he was early.

He walked around the block to kill time and found he still had twenty minutes before their meeting. He took up a post under the stairwell and lit up a cigarette. So much for his New Year's resolution to quit smoking. Then he remembered the open-mouthed kiss from Cidrone this afternoon. Napoleon never smoked before a date, not without an opportunity to brush his teeth before a kiss. He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it out. This wasn't a romantic liaison but there was no reason to inflict a foul tasting mouth on Cidrone.

He leaned against the wall and tried not to think too much about what he was supposed to be learning from the man upstairs.

*****

Cidrone opened the door wearing a white polo shirt and beige chinos. His hair was damp and combed back, indicating he had just showered. "Come in." He opened the door wider.

The apartment was attractive. Not exactly feminine, but more colorful than Napoleon expected another man's apartment to be. The living room had a gold leather sofa with paisley print throw pillows. And plants, hanging plants and large potted plants, giving the room a warm look.

"Take a seat." Cidrone motioned him into the room. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

Napoleon sat on the sofa feeling slightly surreal. It was like a date but not like a date. The apartment was nothing like his own or that of any of the women he'd dated. Not masculine and not feminine. But wine would help relax him. "Sure."

Cidrone brought him a glass of wine and set it on a coaster on the glass-topped coffee table. He sat on the other side of the sofa facing Napoleon.

Napoleon picked up the glass and sipped the wine.

"Nervous?" Cidrone asked.

"Yes," he said briefly. "Very much so." It made no sense to pretend otherwise.

"It won't be so bad. Finish your wine," he instructed.

Napoleon picked up the glass and downed the rest of it. He set the glass back on the coaster.

Cidrone moved closer, right next to Napoleon. "It won't be so bad. I promise." His voice was lower, softer. "We'll take it slow." He took Napoleon's head between his broad hands and began to kiss his face. Napoleon closed his eyes.

The other man continued kissing him - his face, his eyes, his ears. He nibbled and sucked at Napoleon's earlobe, creating an erotic sensation. The man's technique was incredible.

"Uh..." The sound escaped from his mouth involuntarily.

"Yes..." Cidrone murmured between kisses. "Relax. Go with it..."

Confused thoughts surged through Napoleon's mind. How could this be arousing him? Could he be becoming a homosexual? Could having sex with a homosexual make a straight man a homosexual? His body became rigid with tension.

Was he actually straight?

Cidrone sensed the tenseness. He massaged Napoleon's shoulders and arms. His back. Napoleon was still tense. "Relax. Stop fighting it."

Napoleon could not relax. His nascent arousal had evaporated.

Cidrone pulled back and looked at him. "You're fighting it. But you can't fight it. Not if you want to do your job." He let go of Napoleon, took up his wine and drank it. "I'm here to help you do your job. But it's your job. No one can make you do it. And no one can do it for you.

"U.N.C.L.E. asks a lot of its Enforcement agents. Three years ago Sanders sent me an agent for a Z-48. I tried to work with him - spent three days - but he couldn't do it. He argued and fought me and wouldn't relax. He was so tight. I couldn't do it without damaging him. There was no way in hell we could send him undercover."

"What happened?"

"They found another Section Two agent to do the job."

"And the agent who couldn't?"

"He left U.N.C.L.E. and works for the Treasury Department. No hard feelings."

"Oh."

"Maybe you should take a few days to think about it."

Napoleon didn't answer at first. He stared at the glass-topped coffee table for a long moment. "I want your help."

"You don't have to decide right now. If you want my help, you can come back this weekend and we'll work on it."

"No, I've decided. I want this assignment. I will do this assignment."

Cidrone looked a little surprised at the vehemence. "All right, then. Shall we start again?"

"Yes." His answer was firm. No hesitation.

"I think what's making it hard for you is your fear of being changed. You're worried that you'll like it. You're afraid that you'll be a homosexual. And you know what? You will. I'll teach you how to like it. And you will be a homosexual...for the duration of this assignment."

They sat in silence for a moment, Napoleon absorbing what the other man had said. His heterosexuality would be jeopardized. Was U.N.C.L.E. worth it?

He thought about U.N.C.L.E.: an organization committed to fighting evil. Its work would never be finished as long as there were shadowy forces scheming to profit from the destruction of innocent lives. He thought of the things he had seen in the two years he had worked for the organization. WASP had its hand in everything: the drug trade in Colombia, the slavery in West Africa, the poisoned river in Panama. Sixty-three people dead and they didn't have a clue as to where it would happen next. Perhaps this mission would implicate WASP and prevent it from using that poison again.

Some sought to sabotage international relations for their own nefarious purposes. As an international organization, U.N.C.L.E. was committed to the preservation of world peace. The fragile peace between the United States and the Soviet Union was a prime example.

Unbidden his thoughts went to the Russian who now worked in Section IV, Illya Kuryakin, a man he was coming to think of as a good friend.

Their kind of friendship could not exist on the planet if WASP had its way.

He met the other man's eyes. "Teach me."

*****

They moved the lesson to the bedroom. Under Cidrone's direction, Napoleon removed his clothing. Naked, the two men occupied the turned down bed. Napoleon wondered how long it would take. He wondered if it would hurt very much.

"Lay back," his teacher instructed. Napoleon lay his head against the padded headboard.

Kneeling beside him, Cidrone began a gentle fondling, lightly stroking his torso, fingers briefly brushing over his nipples then along the sides of his chest.

He touched Napoleon all over; his fingers stroked broad areas, the side of his chest, his outer leg. Daringly he ventured into Napoleon's erotic zones, his inner thigh, lightly brushing his genitals. He kept his touch brief, almost non-threatening.

Napoleon was not comfortable with the passive role, and the unfamiliar handling made him too nervous to be aroused. But the stroking was stimulating him, eliciting sensual sparks from unexpected areas.

The arousal was slow, but after awhile, Napoleon realized his penis had reached an uncertain erection.

Cidrone seemed to realize the tentativeness of Napoleon's arousal. He continued the gentle stroking, returning to the places that seemed most responsive. "Close your eyes," he suggested gently.

Napoleon did. He willed himself to relax, to enjoy the stimulating touches. He was amazed at how good the other man was at this. He had thought himself skilled at lovemaking but he realized this man could teach him a thing or two that might be useful for more than just this mission.

And then the other man took Napoleon's erection into his mouth.

Napoleon gasped and his eyes flew open. He looked down and saw the dark head bent over his groin, the generous mouth encompassing his penis.

Napoleon couldn't resist; unbidden his hips began to thrust into the warm mouth. Cidrone's mouth moved to accommodate his movement, settling them into a comfortable rhythm.

Napoleon had had blowjobs before but few as good as this one. It was surprising to realize that he could enjoy something administered from another man, a man he hardly knew, and enjoy it this much.

But that was the point to this exercise, wasn't it? He closed his eyes and relaxed, enjoying the expert blowjob.

While he fellated Napoleon, Cidrone continued the sexual touching. Napoleon squirmed, not entirely comfortable with the intimate touches from the large male hands, but within minutes his body accepted the stimulation and responded freely to the different sensations.

Large hands cupped his buttocks, massaging them firmly. He groaned, a final surrender of his inhibitions, realizing on some level that he had crossed a line.

He was high, so high, and he could have easily come, but the other man slowed the movement of his head; his mouth still enclosed Napoleon's penis, but his sucking stopped.

Napoleon whimpered.

One of the hands moved away from his ass and then came back, slicker, smearing grease in his crack.

He was so hard; the idea of being fucked was not enough to cause him to lose his erection. A finger probed his anus. The other man resumed the sucking and Napoleon's sphincter relaxed around the finger that rested deep inside.

The other man's head continued to move up and down, while the mouth sucked and the finger probed. His lips moved, faster, faster.

The sensations were irresistible.

The pleasure overwhelmed his earlier apprehension about having sex with another man. The orgasm surged through him, as powerful as those he had experienced after weeks of going without.

He spurted and spurted into the willing mouth. He marveled at the strength of it.

When the orgasm had subsided, Cidrone lifted his head. His face was flushed and a trickle of moisture shone at the corner of his mouth. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Napoleon said hoarsely. "Very good." Vaguely he was aware of the finger still inside of him. His body held it, not eager to let it go.

Cidrone extracted the finger. He got up and brought back a washcloth. He cleaned both of them. When he was finished, he put the washcloth aside then sat beside Napoleon and caressed him as his breathing slowed.

Napoleon was probably as relaxed as he was ever going to be. He was still nervous but not as much as earlier. And since he knew this was something he was going to have to do, he was glad his first time would be with this considerate man.

"Are you going to do it to me now?" he asked.

Cidrone continued caressing. "No," he said to Napoleon's surprise. "It's better to take it slow and I think you've had enough new experiences for one night."

"Oh." Napoleon glanced down and saw the other man was erect. "Don't you need...?" He left the question dangling.

"No. I'll take care of it myself."

Napoleon leaned up on his elbow. The situation seemed unbalanced, violating his innate sense of fairness. He had had his orgasm; the other man should get one in return. "I can do the same for you...with my mouth."

Cidrone looked at him kindly. "Actually...I'd like to save it. I have a date in a little while."

Napoleon blinked in surprise. That was something he hadn't thought of, but why shouldn't this man have an active social life amongst his own kind? He was nice looking and kind. He flushed, realizing that Cidrone's tutelage was just as much a part of the job for him as it was for Napoleon.

Cidrone smiled at Napoleon. "But I will take you up on the offer later this weekend. It will be good practice for your assignment."

Napoleon glanced at the red cock lying between the other man's legs. It was subsiding but still partially erect. He though about taking that cock in his mouth, something he would have to get good at because he was going to have to do it for Andre.

Napoleon got up and started to dress. "When will you be available to continue...teaching me?"

"We can work on this for the entire weekend." Cidrone put on a robe he had left on a chair near the bed. "Unless you have other plans?"

"No." He shook his head. "No plans." He did - dates for both Friday and Saturday nights - but he would break them. This was important, something he needed to learn. And he didn't particularly want to go from a man's bed to a woman's in the same day.

As Cidrone had said, he was going to be a homosexual for the duration.

He finished dressing and Cidrone walked him to the door.

"I'll be out of town for the next two days. A courier run to D.C.," Cidrone said. "I'll give you a call when I get back. Maybe we can have dinner first."

"Yeah, sure, that would be good."

*****

Napoleon left Cidrone's apartment. It was still light outside, not even seven o'clock.

It was going to be three more days before his next liaison with Cidrone. Now that he was out of Cidrone's presence, he was more nervous than before. Three days till you get fucked, he thought. He dreaded the weekend, but in a way he wished it were here already so he could just get it over with.

And what was he supposed to do with himself till then? It was going to be hard to concentrate on work with this hanging over his head. A romantic dalliance was certainly out of the question.

Suddenly he thought of someone whose company would help distract him from his worries. He hoped Kuryakin had not yet eaten.

*****

"Large, with everything on it," Napoleon said to the waitress as he handed her his menu.

"Except anchovies," cautioned Illya.

"No anchovies," Napoleon amended.

"What will you have to drink?" she asked.

"Budweiser," said Napoleon.

"The same," said Illya. He handed her his menu.

It was not unusual that Napoleon would ask him to join him for dinner but they had already spent Tuesday night together. Napoleon usually reserved Thursday nights for his women friends - beginning his weekends early.

Still, Illya was glad to be asked twice in one week. He had just been finishing up in the lab and had nothing better planned for dinner than a can of pork and beans on toast.

"Anything new in the lab?" Napoleon asked.

"I've finished assembling a prototype of the communicator you requested."

Napoleon was startled. "Already?"

"We already had most of the components. I merely fit them into a different casing," Illya explained. "Though I did construct an integrated circuit that was smaller."

Napoleon grinned. "What does it look like?"

"A pen, a rather bulky one. But it does look authentic."

"Good. I'll give up smoking and start a journal."

It was Illya's turn to smile. "Not yet. There was no room for the ink cartridge."

The waitress set two frosted mugs in front of them. Illya was not enamored of the American custom of chilled beverages, but he had to admit that cold beer was preferable with pizza.

He did not ask Napoleon about his day; much of Section II's work required a higher security clearance than his position allowed. It was sometimes a little awkward that their relationship was unequal in this regard. Illya wondered if that was the reason Napoleon wanted him to transfer to Enforcement.

The waitress set the large pizza between them. They each slid two slices to their plates. Illya covertly watched his companion as they ate. Napoleon looked...distracted.

Illya took a bite of the pizza and chewed silently for a minute. Maybe his friend was just tired. He did look a little worn. Despite the change from work clothing he looked a little more rumpled than usual. "Are you working on a difficult case now?" he asked. Even though Napoleon couldn't reveal details he could sometimes discuss cases abstractly.

"I'd rather not discuss the current...affair right now."

"Very well." He tried to keep the edge of hurt out of his voice. Illya found himself feeling a little annoyed. Getting together had been Napoleon's idea. Just because Napoleon's work was classified at a higher level did not excuse him from holding up his end of a conversation.

The two men chewed in silence for long moments. Napoleon seemed to sense the coolness his remark had engendered.

After a moment he spoke. "It's a different kind of assignment. Not really any more dangerous but...it requires me to do something I haven't done before."

"Oh." Illya schooled the curiosity from his face. What kind of thing could they be asking Napoleon to do that he hadn't done before? The first possibility that popped into Illya's head was that they were expecting him to kill somebody but he knew Napoleon had killed at least once. They both had while serving in the military and this was something they had discussed before.

Illya thought that there were other possibilities that he had never heard of, perhaps using equipment he didn't know existed. They could be sending Napoleon to the moon for all Illya knew.

It was a waste of time to try to speculate since he couldn't have his curiosity assuaged anyway.

He decided to take a different tact. "I am pretty sure I know what they are asking of you." He looked nonchalant as he took a bite of his pizza.

"You do?" Napoleon's attention was riveted to him.

"They expect you to cook...a soufflé."

Napoleon looked startled and then laughed. "Yes, that's it exactly. They want me to cook a soufflé."

Illya maintained a straight face despite his friend's grin. "It is difficult...the first time."

Napoleon's smile faded. "Yes. I think it will be."

"One might read about it. Follow a recipe. But the actual experience...must be experienced."

"Yes, I know." Napoleon looked at him expectantly as if Illya might shed some light on the task Napoleon would be required to perform.

Illya searched his mind for something to say. He had no idea what they were really talking about, and he'd just brought up the soufflé as a joke. And he'd never even cooked a soufflé.

But Napoleon was staring at him, entranced, as if he had something brilliant to say.

"Preliminary steps are necessary," he began. "The workplace and equipment should be...prepared. Cleaned if necessary."

"Yes," Napoleon agreed. "Cleanliness is important."

In his mind, Illya pictured Napoleon washing an egg whisk and wondered if they were talking about cleaning a gun.

"All supplies should be purchased in advance," he said knowledgeably.

"Supplies..." Napoleon mused. "Yeah."

"Since it would be the first time, I would advise purchasing extra ingredients." Extra eggs?

"Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. That I might have to provide my own." Napoleon was not looking at Illya. Obviously his mind was running its own scenario, one unlikely to have anything to do with eggs and milk.

But if Illya's rambling was producing any kind of focus for his friend he would gladly continue. "Of course, the most important thing will be your state of mind. It is essential that you be open to the...new experience."

Napoleon stared at him with respect. "You're right."

Illya gulped. "I am?"

"Yes. Attitude is the most important thing. That will help me overcome any liability because of my inexperience."

"Yes." Illya decided to go with it. "That is what I was trying to say all along."

Napoleon didn't eat but watched him as he finished his first slice of pizza. "You don't have any idea of what we're talking about, do you?"

"Not a clue," he said cheerfully and took up the second slice.

*****

Spending last evening with Illya had lifted his spirits, Napoleon thought as he came in to Headquarters the next day. Illya's inadvertent comment about 'state of mind' had somehow calmed Napoleon's inner turmoil. Maybe it was hearing what he had been telling himself in the other man's voice.

He liked Illya's voice. His tone was pleasant and his exotic accent made him sound more interesting. Napoleon even liked to listen to Illya talk about his chemistry experiments though Napoleon didn't remember much from his college chemistry class.

He had been after the Russian to transfer to Section II for months, but now Napoleon thought that he would drop that pursuit. He now knew about this different kind of assignment he hadn't known before.

If Illya were in Section II, would he be likely to be assigned a Z-48 mission?

He thought of his slight, fair-haired friend. The fine features. If Illya had already transferred to Section II, would Sanders have selected Illya rather than Napoleon for this job? Napoleon suspected that he would have.

Was it right to try to convince Illya to transfer to Enforcement without giving him this vital bit of information? But how could he reasonably tell him without revealing information that was classified 'need to know'?

After all, nobody had told Napoleon about the Z-48 assignments before he had become a Section II agent.

Illya didn't seem that interested in transferring anyway; he liked the lab work and perhaps he had said he would consider the transfer just to keep Napoleon from nagging him. He decided to put it out of his mind for the time being.

Napoleon spent the rest of the morning at the firing range. Later he went to the record room, looking for background records on the WASP organization.

When he had joined U.N.C.L.E., his training class had had several sessions about the enemy organizations they would encounter. The two most powerful nemeses were WASP and the Cosa Nostra, or Mafia. A third was Thrush, a multinational organization that had become almost as powerful in the two years since Napoleon had joined U.N.C.L.E.

Apparently WASP was losing its foothold in the Northern Hemisphere. Napoleon read one of the reports that discussed information that had been uncovered from a Z-48 operative two years ago. Interesting. The report was only a File 30, not even the highest clearance. Yet, for the reader who was not aware of the meaning of the Z-48 designation, the report did not reveal that this undercover strategy would be used again.

Another file, this time a File 40. Napoleon had asked for the file referenced in the previous one he'd read and the librarian had given him the higher classified document. Napoleon hadn't realized he had been cleared for File 40s. Was this new access to higher classified documents a result of his new assignment?

The file was about the South American branch of WASP. Included were dossiers of the highest ranked officials with photographs.

He turned to the one of Jorge Andre. The man was young to have achieved such a high rank in the organization, early forties perhaps. He was not an unattractive man and Napoleon thought that he could have been popular with the ladies if that had been his inclination.

Andre appeared to be an amalgam of different cultures like many people from the Bahia region of Brazil. The blond hair revealed some European blood, the dark eyes told of the man's Latin heritage.

He read the physical description. Birthmark on right inner thigh and another on the left lower abdomen. Napoleon couldn't imagine a use for those details; he was more interested in what followed. Height: 5'11". Weight: 170 lbs. This was the weight that was going to be on him. The body that was going to be pounding into him.

A cold wash of fear went through him.

He's not too big, Napoleon reassured himself. He wasn't that much bigger than Napoleon. But he was a stranger who would be using him, with no consideration for the pain he might inflict.

Stop thinking about it as being painful, he admonished himself. Lou is going to work with you. Teach you to relax. Teach you to take it. He thought of last night being sucked off with a finger up his ass. Maybe even enjoy it.

He flushed. We'll work on that later.

He forced himself to concentrate on reading about Andre's rise to power in the military, his brief marriage that had ended in divorce. Was he a homosexual then? Napoleon wondered. Probably. That's probably why his marriage ended.

He continued reading, turning pages, learning more about the man. Up till his early twenties, Andre seemed benign. At twenty-two he had moved to Europe, presumably to stay with relatives while pursuing his studies. U.N.C.L.E. suspected he had been recruited to WASP in Europe during the pre-War years. Then he had become an evangelist for the organization, traveling throughout Southern Europe and then back to South America.

Napoleon spent the rest of the afternoon reading the files, determined to learn as much as he could about the WASP official.

By four p.m. he had had enough. After returning the files, he collected his coat from his office and went to the front entrance.

He smiled at Emily as she unfastened his badge. "Busy day?" he asked conversationally.

"A little bit," she answered. "There's been a lot of back and forth because of the accident. Fortunately no one was killed."

"Accident?" he asked.

"Nobody from Section Two," she reassured him. "It was a couple of guys from Section Three. They got hit broadside by a truck. Mike's fine but Lou has a broken arm and two cracked ribs."

"Lou?" Napoleon said. "Lou Cidrone?"

"Yes." She set his badge back on the rack and straightened the badges. "Do you know him?"

"We're...acquainted."

"Well, if you want to visit him, he's at St. Mary's General Hospital. He'll probably be there for at least a week."

"A week?" His face fell.

"Umm-hmm. That's what Mike said. He was with him all morning in the emergency room."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath.

"I don't think this has anything to do with a mission," she reassured him. "Just bad luck."

"Yeah," he repeated. "Bad luck."

*****

Emily had understated the extent of Cidrone's injuries. Cidrone's face was almost unrecognizable. Both eyes were blackened and a bandage covered his nose. He was in traction and his arm was encased in a cast.

Viewing his co-worker in this state made Napoleon's stomach knot up. In addition to his worry about how Cidrone's condition would affect his preparation for the upcoming mission, Napoleon hated to see another agent banged up and in pain.

Cidrone's eyes were closed but he opened them when he heard Napoleon come in. "A fine mess I got myself in, huh?" He attempted a smile.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Napoleon asked.

"Yeah. The codeine helps though."

"Oh. Well, that's good." He paused, awkward. He hadn't even known this man two days ago, but now, after the experience they'd shared, he was at the least in the friend category. Maybe he should get him some flowers. "Is there anything I can bring you?"

"Not now." He swallowed. "Maybe in a few days I'll have an appetite again and you can bring me chocolates."

Napoleon grinned. "Chocolates it is." He paused. He didn't want to bother Lou with this, it was business after all, but Napoleon didn't know who else to turn to. "Lou...about the Z-48 mission..."

"I don't think I'll be able to help you...not for weeks."

"Oh, I realize that. I just wondered if you knew of anyone else who could."

Cidrone thought about it. He seemed to be mentally running through a list. "Not now. There were a few that could have helped a few years ago. But they're not in the New York office anymore. I don't even think they're with U.N.C.L.E."

"What do you suggest?"

"I might be able to put you in touch with someone outside of U.N.C.L.E. In a few days I might be able to find someone."

"Oh." The idea made him nervous. While having sex with a man was a strange and frightening thing to do, at least he knew he could trust Cidrone not to use it against him. Putting himself in such a vulnerable position with someone outside of the organization could jeopardize everything that was important to him. The idea made him uneasy but what else could he do?

Cidrone read his face in sympathy. "Not too good." He thought a moment. "It might be better to just do it with someone you know. Do you have any friends who could be gay?"

"What?"

"Someone who might be a homosexual. Do you have any friends who aren't married? Someone who doesn't date much or at all. Anyone you've worked with? Or someone from college."

His college roommate lived in Denver with a wife and two kids.

Illya?

Cidrone read his face. "Ask him."

Napoleon didn't say anything. How could he ask a man he'd only known four months?

He wasn't even American. Wasn't homosexuality considered even more of a taboo in Russia? Illya wasn't in Enforcement, either. He shouldn't be involved with this.

But he was in U.N.C.L.E. and he had said he would consider a transfer to Section II. Maybe he should know this type of assignment was a possibility before he did anything about it.

Cidrone watched him wrestle with the decision. "If he's a friend, you can at least ask him."

*****

"There's something I need to talk to you about."

Illya put on his lab coat. It was unusual for Napoleon to come in so early. They were the only two people in the lab, yet Napoleon looked nervous.

"It's about the affair...the assignment I've been given," Napoleon said. "It's a particular type of assignment I hadn't expected. It's called a Z-48 assignment."

The designation meant nothing to Illya, but he suspected this was something not intended for Section IV personnel. "Napoleon...I'm not in Enforcement."

"I know." He started pacing. "The mission is in three weeks. I need help."

"You've got my help," he said quietly.

"Wait till you hear what I need before you offer," he said grimly.

"All right. Tell me...what is this Z-48?"

"Z-48 is an undercover operation where an agent is required to get information from the opposition...using seduction." He took a breath and continued, "Specifically homosexual seduction." He let out his breath and waited for Illya's reaction.

"Oh." Illya digested this information. "I wasn't aware U.N.C.L.E. agents engaged in...such practices." Though Illya was not oblivious to homosexual seduction in the world of espionage, he had not considered that U.N.C.L.E. practiced that methodology.

"I wasn't aware of it either...up until a few days ago. Oh, I know some of the female agents have slept with enemy operatives to get information. And I've slept with some girls from the other side...it sometimes makes them drop their guard."

"But you haven't had this type of mission before? The...Z-48 assignment?"

"No. I haven't." He put his hands in his trouser pockets. "I've never had sex with a man."

"Surely if U.N.C.L.E. expects you to...perform convincingly...they would provide some sort of preparation. A trainer."

"Normally they do. There was someone who started to work with me - Lou Cidrone from Section Three - but he's been injured. He won't recover in time to train me."

Illya tried to digest this. Napoleon was expected to go undercover as someone experienced in having sex with another man. He needed another man to help him get that experience.

"Anyway, Lou suggested...it made me wonder..." Napoleon was staring at him, a desperate expression on his face. "Is there a possibility that you might be...gay?"

"Gay?"

"Homosexual. Normally I would mind my own business, but if you are, I really need the help." Napoleon wondered again why he had decided to bring this up with Illya. Illya had been the first person who had come to Napoleon's mind when Cidrone had said it was possible that one of his friends could be a homosexual.

He had known the Russian for only a few months. Even though Napoleon hadn't seen much evidence that Illya dated women, that did not necessarily mean that he was interested in men. He might just not be that sexually active. Or he could even have a girlfriend back home.

"I have no experience," Illya said. "With other men, that is."

"I...didn't really think you did." Napoleon tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. He couldn't blame Illya for not wanting to have any part in this. He would probably decide to stay with Section IV now as well. Napoleon wondered what thoughts were going through Illya's head. Obviously he was uncomfortable being put in such an awkward position.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to imply...I just took a chance that you might be."

"I am not offended," Illya reassured him. "But what will you do?"

"Lou said he can probably find someone outside of U.N.C.L.E. to help me. I think he must have a lot of acquaintances in the homosexual community. We'll work something out." Napoleon rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Look, I'll see you at lunchtime. Noon, okay?"

"Yes, I'll meet you in the commissary." Illya watched as his friend exited the lab.

*****

What a dilemma for Napoleon, Illya thought as he returned to the lab. Illya hadn't realized that U.N.C.L.E. practiced this kind of seduction to gain information, but why shouldn't they do what other agencies, including the KGB, did?

But Napoleon would get help, Illya was sure. Cidrone would find someone. They wouldn't send him out on this mission unprepared. It might be less comfortable being trained by a non-U.N.C.L.E. person, but it was all part of the job.

Napoleon's job. Not mine. He was not Section II, he was Section IV, safe within the workshops and labs of U.N.C.L.E. Not glamorous or exciting work, but Illya didn't think he was cut out for glamour or excitement anyway. He fished his reading glasses out of his breast pocket and put them on.

He caught a glimpse of himself reflected in a glass case. Bespeckled and in need of a haircut - about as far as one could be from glamorous and exciting. Hr smiled ruefully. No, buried in the labs was definitely where he belonged.

He returned to the project he had been working on earlier. As a research scientist for U.N.C.L.E., he worked in different branches of the sciences. Though his specialty at Cambridge had been in physics, he found that much of his work involved chemistry. He had been successful at chemical analysis of more than one of the nerve gases used by enemy organizations and had been able to synthesize antidotes a number of times. He also had an undergraduate degree in engineering which stood him in good stead when it came to manufacturing gadgets the Section II agents loved.

He took out the device that was the prototype of what would be U.N.C.L.E.'s new communicators. A simple pen. How elegant. All that was needed was a transistor that was five millimeters shorter. He'd have to ask Simmons if he knew a factory that manufactured one that small. Where was Simmons anyway?

He went into the outer area of Section IV. Josette Gilman, one of the other scientists, was typing up a report at the Underwood typewriter shared by all the staff. Hunt, peck, hunt, peck.

"Have you seen Simmons?" he asked.

"Darn." She took the pencil from behind her ear and erased a mistake. "He's in lab #8," she answered.

Lab #8? That was for medical research, one that Illya did not utilize very often. But as head of Section IV, Simmons had his hand in a variety of projects.

He was first assailed by the smell when he came into the room. Putrid. Dying flesh.

Simmons's back was to Illya and he was conversing with someone over a table. They were performing an autopsy.

"Oh...excuse me. I'll come back later." He started to exit.

"Kuryakin? Come here."

Illya ventured farther into the room. Simmons gestured with one of his gloved hands toward the other man. "This is Dr. Enríque Pensíon from our South American office. Enríque, this is Illya Kuryakin, one of my best research scientists."

Instinctively he began to reach out shake the other man's hand, but retracted it when he realized that not only was the man's right hand gloved, it was buried wrist deep in the cadaver on the table. Instead both men nodded a greeting.

Pensíon was slight, about Illya's height. Illya recognized the name. Intelligent brown eyes met his. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Kuryakin. Perhaps you can shed some light on what ails our friend here."

"Forensics is not my specialty," Illya said. "But I would be glad to assist." He moved closer. Pensíon was one of the leading pathologists in the organization, though Illya only knew him by reputation. This might be an opportunity to learn something new.

"Good," Simmons said. "Mr. Waverly wanted to see me this morning, so you can take over assisting Dr. Pensíon."

"It would be a pleasure," Illya said. "Let me clean up."

After he had prepared, he came back to the table and took Simmons's place. He had not gotten a good look at the body before.

He looked now.

It was a male, dark-haired Latino. Very young, possibly fifteen.

"Who was he?" he asked.

"He was from Panama. An innocent victim. He and sixty others."

"What killed them?"

"Poison, an unknown type. Very potent. Someone poisoned the water of a river estuary feeding into the Chagres. For several days, animals and people died. They did not realize what was killing them."

"The river, is it still a danger?"

"No. It is diluted. In the larger river."

Illya looked at the cadaver. The vital organs were discolored, a grayish yellow. The liver was swollen to twice normal size.

"This one...he was one of the first to be affected," Pensíon said. "I had him brought here because the New York laboratory has the best facilities. We will run tests to learn more about this poison." He proceeded to take biopsies and Illya assisted.

Pensíon took his samples and they returned the cadaver to the freezer.

Illya helped him to run the tests. It was easy to run the tests and analyze data, but he could not get the young Latino out of his mind. A teenager!

What kind of person would dump a poison into a river knowing it would kill innocent children?

What kind of an organization?

Illya recognized that he was a small cog in the machine that was U.N.C.L.E. He had heard the names of the groups U.N.C.L.E. dealt with: Thrush, Mafia. WASP. But U.N.C.L.E. hadn't given him background on these organizations because much of it was 'need to know' information and Illya didn't need to know.

He cleaned up and left Lab #8, returning to his usual workplace. It was more comfortable working with inanimate objects. Things that had never been alive.

The boy's face haunted him.

Illya had learned bits and pieces about these organizations, a little from things Napoleon had mentioned during their discussions, things he had overheard from conversations between Section II or Section III agents in the elevators. These organizations of evil were persistent and, despite U.N.C.L.E.'s efforts, near impossible to defeat.

Whoever had poisoned the river was going to try it again.

*****

Illya slid across from Napoleon's table in the commissary. It was 12:15; Napoleon had thought Illya wasn't going to make it. "I thought you stood me up." He took a sip of the iced tea.

"I'm sorry." Illya looked distracted. "There was something I needed to do."

"Aren't you getting something to eat? They have a good stew today."

"No. I'm not hungry."

"Oh." Napoleon continued eating. Was Illya going to go back to the lab now? Maybe he was still uncomfortable because of the faux pas Napoleon had made this morning.

"Napoleon?"

"Yes." He took a spoonful of his stew and waited for the brush-off.

"About what you asked me about this morning...I will do it."

Napoleon almost dropped the spoon. "What?"

"I will help you-" he lowered his voice, "-to get the experience with another man."

"But you said you're not gay."

"I've never done it before...with a man," Illya repeated what he had told Napoleon earlier. "But I will help you with this."

"You don't need to do this," he protested. "Lou is making phone calls."

"No." Illya put his hand on Napoleon's forearm, stopping him. "Tell Lou you have found someone. I want to help you."

"But...why?"

"This assignment...this Z-48. It is something you find distasteful. It is something you would not choose to do. Yet you do it because you think some good may come of it. You think it might help stop the killing of innocent people.

"I would like to help with this."

Napoleon looked at his Russian friend in wonder. He could see that Illya really meant this. He had let Illya off the hook earlier and any other man would have been glad to maintain a good distance from Napoleon till he was finished with his Z-48 assignment. Any other man would probably be anxious to find someone else to have lunch with from now on, someone from Sections IV through VIII who would not try to rope him into any sordid assignments.

"Do you have a date tonight?" Illya asked.

"Ah, no."

"Then we will get together tonight. Your apartment? You will feel more comfortable there, won't you?"

Napoleon nodded, unable to speak.

"Good. Then I will see you at six."

Illya's hand had remained on Napoleon's forearm throughout the conversation. It was only when he got up to leave that Napoleon realized it was gone.

He sat for a few minutes with his half-eaten lunch getting cold. A warm relief flooded over him. No matter how bad this assignment was, he wasn't in it alone.

*****

When they met at Napoleon's apartment that evening, it was like their regular dinners together. Almost.

"I've already called in an order for Chinese," Napoleon said, gesturing Illya inside. "I've ordered the Governor Tso's chicken for you. I hope that's okay." It was not terribly presumptuous. That was the dish Illya had ordered the last three times they had eaten Chinese food.

"That's fine. Did you order wonton soup as well?" He removed his overcoat.

"Don't I always?" Napoleon took Illya's coat and hung it in the hall closet. "I just ordered it awhile ago so it probably won't be here for at least ten minutes."

Both men walked into the living room. Illya seated himself on the couch; Napoleon remained standing.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, I'll wait and have tea with dinner."

Napoleon didn't sit down. He moved a few feet through the small living room, almost pacing. "I think I'll have something." He went into the kitchen then came back with a drink in hand. He sat in the other chair.

Napoleon wondered what Illya was thinking. He knew Illya did not feel the same way as he did about being in U.N.C.L.E.

"You can always change your mind," he said softly. "I will understand.

The door buzzer sounded and both men looked up, startled.

"It's probably the food," Napoleon said. He got up to answer the door, and returned with paper bags. "Let's eat."

Illya came over to the table in the dining room. They sorted out the food. "Do you want a fork?" Napoleon asked.

"No, I'll use chopsticks," Illya answered.

"I'll heat the water for the tea," Napoleon said. He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He wondered how long they were going to be able to avoid talking about what they were here to do.

The two men ate for a few moments. The water boiled and Napoleon made tea for both of them.

"I am not going to change my mind," Illya said.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I am in U.N.C.L.E. too. And I am your friend."

"I couldn't ask this of anyone else," Napoleon admitted.

Both men sat without talking. Napoleon's appetite had completely deserted him, and it had nothing to do with the food.

"I will do my best to provide the experience." Illya's face reddened. "Do you want to begin this evening?"

"Er...yes." That had been the plan.

He saw that Illya was not eating anymore either. Well, how could he with this hanging over their heads? "We can reheat the food for later," Napoleon suggested.

"Very well." They wrapped up the remaining food and put it away.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Napoleon said.

Illya followed him into the master bedroom.

The room was neat, as usual. Napoleon had changed the linens earlier.

"You can wash up first," Napoleon gestured him toward the bathroom. "There's a robe behind the door."

"Thank you."

While Illya was washing up, Napoleon removed his clothes and changed into another robe from the closet. He took out the jar of lubricant from his bureau and opened the jar. He sniffed it as he had before. Cidrone had recommended the brand.

"Crisco is really better, but this stuff is good. And you can use whatever is left when you go back to the ladies."

He liked the scent. While Crisco might be the right consistency, Napoleon was embarrassed at the idea of having it in his bedroom.

The toilet flushed and water ran for several minutes. Napoleon felt cold and pulled the lapels of the robe together. He went out to the living room to turn up the thermostat. While he was there, he double-checked the locks on the front door. He came back to the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Illya came out of the bathroom wearing the beige robe Napoleon had left for him.

"Excuse me," Napoleon said and went into the bathroom. He had taken a shower earlier, but he wanted to wash up again. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth with mouthwash.

When he came out, he saw Illya was sitting on the side of his bed reading the label on the jar. "Keri lotion?"

"Yes."

Illya smiled but looked uncertain. "You'll have to give me some direction here."

"Yes...Lou gave me some idea of what we need to do." He sat on the opposite side of the bed and faced Illya. He took a deep breath. "He told me...I need to get used to some things: being naked around another man, touching another man, having another man touch me. It's necessary so I don't come across as self-conscious when I'm with Andre."

"That makes sense."

"And that means that...I'm going to be touching you...and you're going to be touching me." He saw Illya turn red as he spoke. He took a deep breath. "I think the first thing we need to do is to get naked."

"All right." Illya took off the robe and laid it aside.

Napoleon took off his own robe and carried both garments over to a chair. He would have to take the lead. Limited as his experience in this was, he was the more experienced one.

He sat facing Illya, the willing guinea pig. His immediate thought was to touch the other man's privates but he had never been that way with a woman - too rushed and uncouth - so he decided to start with Illya's hair. Innocuous touching and yet he knew that to be a safe place to start. Non-threatening, yet it was the first step toward intimacy.

He brushed Illya's hair back from his forehead and stroked along the hairline. He trailed his finger down the side of Illya's face and jaw.

As he touched him, he held the other man's eyes with his own. Illya's eyes were a lovely shade of blue, something Napoleon had been vaguely aware of but never thought much about until now.

Illya's eyes remained locked with his, unable to move away. After a moment, he blinked, and then brought his hand up to touch Napoleon's face. Napoleon smiled in encouragement. They continued for moments, touching. Illya's finger explored the cleft in his chin and he smiled.

Napoleon brushed his finger across Illya's lips and Illya mirrored the gesture stroking Napoleon's lower lip. The touch sent an erogenous charge through Napoleon's body and he felt his face heat.

Illya's face reddened in response as if he had inadvertently trespassed somewhere he should not go. He moved his hand away from Napoleon's mouth, but Napoleon knew that he could not allow the retreat. "No...it's okay. That's what's supposed to happen."

Illya smiled crookedly. "Sorry. I'm not used to this."

Well, who was, anyway? Perhaps this approach was too tentative. They were both clear about what they were here to do. "Why don't we kiss?" That should loosen things up. After all, their eyes would be closed; it should be easier.

"All right."

Napoleon drew the other man into an embrace and planted a heavy kiss on his mouth. He held it long, letting Illya feel and get used to the idea. He moved his lips slightly, caressing the other pair of lips with his own.

A slight sigh encouraged Napoleon. Women always seemed to enjoy his kisses and he wanted Illya to enjoy them too.

He licked Illya's upper lip and felt the hint of stubble against his tongue. He eased his tongue inside the other mouth, tasted a slightly different taste. Man taste? And then they were into it, deep wet kisses with Illya giving as good as he got.

Napoleon's hands fumbled, exploring the masculinity of the other body. His touch memory overlaid the feel of a softer sex partner, recalling the feel of full breasts as his hand stroked a hard muscled chest.

He gave himself permission to abandon his heterosexuality.

Napoleon grasped the other's biceps, enjoying the feel of hard muscle in his hand. He pinched a flat nipple, feeling it harden between his fingers. Illya groaned, an inescapably masculine sound.

Napoleon pushed him down, following him into a deeper kiss. His body covered Illya's, their cocks pressed together between their bodies.

Both erect.

Napoleon enjoyed the full arousal. He was ready, no doubt - and relieved to know he could get this aroused with another male.

He undulated his cock against his friend's lower abdomen. Instinctively he started to position Illya for what he'd like to do under other circumstances...but then remembered his mission.

That wasn't what they were here to do.

It was time. He pulled back from the kiss reluctantly and moved off the other man. Illya watched him expectantly, waiting for direction.

Napoleon sat up. He looked at the jar on the bedside table and wished he had prepared himself to avoid this awkward request. But Lou had recommended this. He took the jar and handed it to Illya.

Let your friend put it in you. His fingers will relax your muscles.

"Would you put some..." he cleared his throat which was feeling rough, "...inside of me?"

The blue eyes widened, but Illya took the jar. Napoleon turned onto his stomach. He felt the other man sit up and then the wet chill as a dollop dripped on his backside.

"Sorry," Illya apologized and then the wetness was wiped off. Fingers slid the lubricant between his ass cheeks.

Cold but pleasant. Illya brought more of the lubricant to the job and then he was pushing it in with his index finger. "Is that enough?" he asked after a minute.

Not even close. Napoleon thought of how Lou had done him. "Deeper. And move your finger around a bit."

Napoleon pressed his erection against the mattress as Illya rotated his finger, realizing that he did like this stimulation.

"Use a little more cream." He rubbed his reddened face into the pillow. "And two fingers this time."

Illya complied.

Two fingers were a stretch but his sphincter relaxed to accommodate it. Soon he would have to accommodate a lot more. "Okay," he murmured into the pillow. "I think I'm ready now. Put...put your penis inside of me."

Illya climbed behind him and put his penis against the opening. There was a moment of hesitation, then he pressed in.

"Ow!" It hurt. Napoleon grappled away, resisting the invading force.

The easiest way for a beginner is from the back, Cidrone had recommended. On your knees. For the fucker as well as the fuckee. He had grinned through his bruises. The position is best for your friend as well. You can't imagine how hard it can be to get the angle right from the front if you haven't done it before.

Napoleon climbed to his knees. "Now do it."

"You're sure you're ready?" Illya asked uncertainly.

"I'm not sure of anything," he said.

Illya frowned, recognizing the truth to that.

Napoleon was conscious of the other man viewing his upraised buttocks. He turned his head to see Illya taking up more of the lubricant, using it to coat his penis, pulling it back into a stiff erection. Napoleon turned his face back to the head of the bed, waiting.

And felt Illya's cock nudge against his anus.

Sinking in very slowly.

His breathing quickened.

And then he was filled.

"I'm in," Illya said, sounding surprised at himself.

"I know." Napoleon's voice was thick but steady.

"Is it okay? Does it hurt very much?"

"Nooo...actually it doesn't. Just feels a little strange." He swallowed. "What does it feel like for you?"

"It feels good," Illya answered honestly. "Quite good."

Napoleon gave a half laugh. "That's good. Because I'm going to need a lot of practice." And then wondered if he had assumed too much. Would Illya be okay with this?

"Do we get overtime for this?" Illya joked.

This time Napoleon's laugh was full, reverberating throughout his body. Muscles contracted around Illya's cock. It was nice that their shared humor could hold up even under these circumstances.

Illya gave a shallow thrust. "Did that hurt?"

Napoleon took a moment, considering the question. "No, it didn't hurt."

"Should I continue?"

"Yes, but...slow at first."

Illya began a slow thrusting. Napoleon made sounds, grunting sounds, not of pain, but exertion.

After awhile Illya quickened the pace. He changed the angle slightly, and hit a spot that felt wonderful.

"Oh!" Napoleon exclaimed in surprise.

Illya froze. "Hurt?"

"Noooo...it's fine. Just try to keep going at that angle."

He felt Illya grasping his hips and continued, maintaining the angle. Napoleon let go of his inhibitions and moaned out his pleasure. "Ah...um...uh..."

Illya thrust faster, faster. "Uh..." He thrust his hips forward hard. Napoleon felt him shooting deep into his body. He felt Illya sag forward onto his back, letting his full weight lean on Napoleon for a minute or two before he was able to rouse himself again.

Napoleon was surprised at how much he enjoyed the feeling of fullness when Illya was deep inside of him. Instinctively he leaned forward, raising his ass to facilitate the deep penetration again. "Do it again. Deeper. Harder!"

Illya resumed the thrusting. Napoleon felt on the cusp of an orgasm...something really massive, tantalizingly close but just out of his reach. Illya continued thrusting but Napoleon didn't feel the same hardness, the rhythm wasn't quite the same as before.

After a moment it started to hurt. "Ah...okay, how about you pull out now," Napoleon suggested.

He felt Illya remove his softening cock. Illya moved off of Napoleon and Napoleon rolled over to his back.

Illya looked at Napoleon's still erect cock. "Would you like me..."

"I'll do it," Napoleon gasped. He grasped his penis in his right hand and gave a few quick tugs. The orgasm was powerful. He felt the clenching inside - around the cock that was no longer there. Semen spurted out high, raining on his abdomen and chest.

He was conscious of Illya's blue eyes watching him as the last drops pumped out from his penis and his breathing slowed. How strange to have his friend see him in this moment of vulnerability. Enervated from the sex, Napoleon's eyelids drooped and closed.

After a moment Illya went to the bathroom and ran warm water on a washcloth. He sat on the bed next to Napoleon, and wiped a drop of semen off his jaw, then sponged his chest and abdomen.

"Umm..." Napoleon opened his eyes. "Thanks."

"Are you going to sleep now?" Illya asked.

"No. Just resting for a minute." He glanced at the clock on the night table. It was still fairly early. "Why don't we each have a shower then have the rest of our dinner?"

It was a good plan.

Illya took the first shower while Napoleon reset the table and put the leftovers in the oven. Illya took the food out a few minutes after he dressed and it was ready when Napoleon came in to the dining room, redressed.

Their appetites had not suffered from the interlude. Illya ate with appreciation, stealing occasional glances at his friend.

Napoleon chewed at an egg roll. He knew Illya was watching him. He smiled, thinking that they both probably wanted to ask the same trite question lovers always want to ask. He decided to go first. "Was it good for you?"

Illya blushed. "Yes. How was it for you?"

"It was fine." He smiled and Illya looked relieved.

"Oh...I'm glad I can help."

They ate companionably. The nervous stomach that had plagued Napoleon earlier that evening had recovered and he could enjoy his dinner. He was going to be able to do this assignment. Thanks to Illya.

*****

Napoleon visited Lou in the hospital the next day.

"You did it with him?" Lou asked. The bruises were turning yellow, less attractive than the earlier purple, but it meant he was healing.

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"It was fine," he said as he had told Illya last night.

"Did you come?"

He flushed. "Yes."

"While he fucked you?"

"Er...no. Right after."

"That's okay. You'll synchronize better after some practice."

He shifted in the vinyl chair, still feeling the memory of last night's activities. Something had been sensitized during the fucking and he felt on the verge of arousal this morning. Lou's questions were not helping.

He hadn't felt this sexually volatile since his early twenties. Though he led an active sex life, he never had a problem keeping his arousal in its time and place.

Lou smiled. He probably knew how he felt.

"Your friend liked it, didn't he?"

"Well...he had an orgasm."

Lou's eyes sparkled. "Might as well enjoy your work. Both of you."

"Er...yes."

"So when will you see your friend again?"

"This evening. He has some work to do in the lab today."

"A scientist, huh? Section Four?"

"Yes," he admitted, feeling a little like he'd felt when his Aunt Amy quizzed him about his current love interest. He decided to steer the conversation back to more relevant matters. "Have they told you when you're being released?"

"About a week. But I won't be able to work with you when I get home. The cast doesn't come off for six weeks."

"Oh...well...that's all right. I think my friend will work with me."

There was a subtle shift in the mood between them as Lou became brisk and business-like. "Tonight you do it from the front."

"The front?" Napoleon said blankly.

"Face to face," he clarified. "Missionary position."

"Oh."

"It's good that you could manage from the back. It's great for beginners. But Andre is going to expect you to be able to fuck face to face. And that's tricky if you're not experienced."

"Tricky? How?"

He shook his head impatiently. "You've fucked women before. Dozens probably. It slides in pretty easy; you barely need your hand to guide it in. It's not like that when it's two guys. You're using a different entrance and the angle is different."

Napoleon looked around self-consciously but the door was closed. "So what do you suggest?"

"This." He gestured toward his bedside table. "Look in the drawer."

Napoleon opened the top drawer. Inside was a book bound in red leather. He took it out and read the gold print on the cover: "A History of the Peloponisian War?"

"Look inside."

He opened the book and found the title page said the same. He turned pages: Introduction, Foreword, Table of Contents, Chapter 1...

"Oh."

Pictures. Pages and pages of photographs showing men engaged in sexual intercourse. He struggled to contain his blush. True, he was no longer a virgin that way, but viewing the pornographic pictures was still embarrassing. He studied the one on page twenty-one, conscious that Lou was watching him. It depicted a view of two men, the one on the bottom with his legs resting on the shoulders of the other. The expressions on the men's faces were...compelling.

Tonight that would be him. With Illya.

*****

The two men sat naked on the bed.

They had eaten dinner. Napoleon had cooked steaks and Illya seemed agreeable to being adventurous. Last night had been a strange beginning, but ultimately it had felt - wonderful. Throughout the entire day his thoughts had come back to the experience, hardly believing it had really happened.

"Tonight we're going to do it differently," he informed Illya. "Face to face." He opened a book to a photograph of two men in an extremely intimate position. "Lou said it's harder, but we should be able to do it with a little practice. Your gymnastic background might come in handy."

Illya smiled. "I knew it would be useful for something."

Napoleon smiled back. "I guess we should get down to it." He laid the book to the side of the bed with the page open. Then he lay on his back, his legs apart. He was not yet erect.

The jar of lubricant was on the nightstand. Illya took up the jar and opened it. He took a handful out and brought it to his friend's crotch.

"Oh..." Napoleon started at the feel of the cold lubricant, but relaxed as Illya's hand stroked it on his penis, warming it. Illya seemed surprisingly comfortable about doing this. He smiled as Napoleon's penis stiffened in his hand.

Napoleon was conscious of the blue eyes watching him intently. "That feels...very nice." Napoleon's voice was rough with arousal. "Let's get you ready too." He reached over and dipped his hand in the jar then brought it to Illya's genitals.

For long moments they stroked each other, hands slippery with the lubricant. It was not long before both were fully erect. It felt incredibly good and Napoleon could see from Illya's passion-flushed face that he was ready.

"Do it now."

"All right." His voice was as hoarse as Napoleon's had been earlier.

He climbed between Napoleon's legs, kneeling. Napoleon saw him turn his head, looking at the photo in the book, trying to find the right position. He put his hands under Napoleon's knees, urging his legs up over his shoulders. Illya glanced back at the book and seemed satisfied that the angle was right.

Napoleon felt Illya's cock between his butt cheeks, pushing...

"Ow!" Napoleon clamped down, pushing Illya out.

"Wha...what?" Illya was startled and then dismayed. "Should I stop?"

Napoleon swallowed. "Yes...no..." He was disappointed. He had been anxious to recapture what he had felt last night. The sensation had been incredible, that perfect stroking deep inside. "Just a minute." He took a breath. "I think...just some more lubricant." He looked apologetically at Illya. "I thought I was ready...but I think this position takes more...preparation."

"Oh...well..." Deflating, Illya withdrew almost entirely from Napoleon's body. He helped lower Napoleon's legs off his shoulders then sat up on his knees.

Both men paused a moment, catching their breath.

It had felt so good last night once he had relaxed into it. Maybe with more lubrication...

"I'll be right back." Napoleon got up to get something in the other room. He returned a minute later, feeling sheepish, with a can of Crisco. "Lou said this was the best lubricant money can buy." He took a bit out of the can and rubbed it between his fingers. Lou was right; the texture was wonderfully slippery. It was an absolute necessity to pave the passage for the kind of sex they were here for. He handed the can to Illya.

Illya took the can as Napoleon climbed back onto the bed. "Turn over," Illya suggested.

Napoleon turned on his stomach. Illya took a dollop of the shortening and massaged it between Napoleon's cheeks.

He pushed in gently with one finger. "Oh!" Napoleon exclaimed, then relaxed as Illya's fingers poked into him, stretching him. "Yeah...that's good...oh yeah." He squirmed and his muscles relaxed around Illya's finger.

Illya used another finger, rotating in circles, stretching the passage. When his fingers nudged against his prostate, Napoleon let out an involuntary moan. "Uhmm."

They both seemed to know it was time. Illya removed his fingers and Napoleon turned onto his back.

This time it was easier to find the position, with no need to refer to the book that had since fallen to the floor. Napoleon lifted his legs to Illya's shoulders. Illya pushed Napoleon's bottom, positioning him...

And pushed in.

Napoleon gasped, but not from pain.

Illya waited a moment, allowing Napoleon to adjust. Napoleon assessed how he felt being penetrated this way. The bulk inside of him felt even bigger from this angle and he felt even more vulnerable than he had last night. Illya shifted, bracing his hands beside Napoleon's head, and his cock nudged in even further.

Napoleon stared up at the face of his friend, his co-worker, and was struck by the intimacy between them.

Last night, Napoleon had allowed himself to be taken from the back, a submissive position, yet even then he had retained some freedom of movement, some control of the position.

In this position, the man on the bottom was entirely at the mercy of the man on the top.

"It's in so deep," Napoleon muttered in amazement. "Think we're doing it right?"

Illya blinked, blue eyes wide. "It...it feels right to me," he said huskily.

Napoleon smiled. "Yeah, we seem to fit together. Why don't you start thrusting... only...take it easy at first."

He began slowly as Napoleon had requested. Napoleon remembered Illya watching him yesterday when he had climaxed, those blue eyes seeing him in such an intimate moment and, although it had been awkwardly strange, something in him longed to experience that vulnerability again.

Napoleon closed his eyes, moaning softly with each thrust. His hands went to his own cock, fondling it. Last night, the anal stimulation had sensitized him, bringing him close to a powerful orgasm in a way he had never experienced before, but his body couldn't quite get there without the stimulation to his cock. He worked his organ harder, faster, and as if on cue, Illya quickened his thrusts.

"Uh...uh..." Their groans became a unified chorus. "Uh...uh..."

Napoleon's climax was a white burst of pleasure clenching around the spasming cock of his friend. "Ah..."

Napoleon worked to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes, he saw Illya's face was still red from his own climax.

He grinned at Illya, his entire body boneless and relaxed. "I think we're getting the hang of this."

*****

Napoleon stood in front of the deli counter, deliberating. Would Illya prefer ham or turkey? Turkey, he decided, and directed the counter person on how to make the sandwich.

He smiled, thinking of how much time he spent feeding Illya these last couple of weeks. But that was okay. He liked eating with his friend and when they ate in, Illya always brought something to supplement the meal, usually a dessert. Napoleon thought that they would both be getting fat were it not for the vigorous activity they had been practicing.

After two weeks, Napoleon felt confident that he could be convincing as an experienced male prostitute. He was comfortable with the penetration. They had practiced numerous times, dutifully copying various pictures from the book.

"Four-sixty-five," the cashier informed him. Napoleon took out his wallet and handed over a ten. He waited as the woman made change then left the shop.

Napoleon had taken off early this afternoon. Illya would not be there for at least half an hour. That would give him a chance to shower and change.

He walked the two blocks back to his apartment. Today Heather had briefed him on the WASP conference. He already knew about Andre. He had been studying the man for the past two weeks: poring over photographs, going through intelligence reports that had been sent from the South American and European offices.

He thought about what he had learned during the briefing and from reading the files.

He thought about the current political situation and the Mets' standing in the National League, wondering if they would ever be anywhere but last place.

Despite his attempts to clutter his mind with other things, he inevitably thought about last night with Illya.

Illya had taken him from the front. His legs had been thrown over Illya's shoulders. Illya was in him so deep, his balls pressed up against his ass.

It didn't hurt. It hadn't hurt since the first few times. His body had become accustomed to the hard fullness, even welcomed it.

Napoleon tingled, his face flushing, remembering.

They stared at each other, their faces close. Illya's face was flushed, damp with perspiration. They were both so hard, Napoleon's cock pressed between them. Both aware of each other's arousal, Illya feeling Napoleon's cock pressed against his belly, Napoleon feeling Illya's cock hard within him.

Napoleon waited for Illya to begin thrusting. He felt ready for it, well lubricated.

Illya looked at him a moment, blue eyes...curious? Then his eyes had become unfocused and he had started thrusting. Napoleon reached upward to meet his thrusts until they finally gasped their orgasms into each other's shoulders.

And then Illya had kissed him.

Napoleon flushed, remembering the kiss. They had kissed before, but the kiss last night had been something different, with him on the bottom and Illya still deep inside.

The kiss was warm and deep. Devouring. Open-mouthed. Illya's tongue invaded, exploring. All encompassing.

And when he finished, Napoleon felt as thoroughly kissed as he had ever been in his life.

He caught his breath and they stared at each other, reading each other. Illya looked shyly satisfied as if he had stolen something he really wanted.

Napoleon licked his lower lip, remembering the kiss. He felt like something had changed with that kiss. He wanted that kiss again and it made his stomach ache with longing to know that he would probably never feel such a kiss again after next week.

*****

Illya slept at Napoleon's on Saturday night. They fell asleep in Napoleon's queen-sized bed after their 'practice session.' Napoleon had grabbed a towel he'd left next to the bed and wiped them both off.

They were both worn out and had drifted off to sleep together.

In the middle of the night - it was too dark to see the clock - Illya felt Napoleon stirring against him. Hands stroked along his back and ass.

He turned. Napoleon's hands were all over him.

Illya moved into Napoleon's arms, pulling him closer. They kissed over and over, caressing till they brought each other to shuddering pleasure.

Illya blinked awake as the Sunday morning sun nudged at his eyelids. He opened his eyes and saw the other half of the rumpled bed was vacant. The sound of the shower in the adjoining bedroom accounted for Napoleon's whereabouts.

He recalled what had happened several hours earlier in the darkness.

He swallowed tightly. Not a practice session. Their activity would not contribute a thing to Napoleon's expertise.

*****

Lou was home from the hospital. Although still constrained by bandages and a cast, it didn't stop him from dispensing helpful advice.

"You need to get some new clothes."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Napoleon asked.

"You look like a straight. Get some more colorful shirts. Some tight tee-shirts." Lou smirked. "You'd look good in purple."

"Gee." He felt like he was a doll being dressed by a girl.

"And a pair of tight jeans. You need to show off that cute tush."

Napoleon grinned. Once he'd gotten used to Lou he had gotten to like his playful manner.

His grin faded slightly as he thought of other eyes viewing his "tush." Andre's eyes, viewing him as merchandise he had purchased.

And Illya's eyes.

Napoleon couldn't help but wonder how his Russian friend felt about all this. He thought about what it must feel like for Illya. The physical stimulation must feel good. After all, it was probably pretty similar in feel to having sexual intercourse with a woman.

Except tighter.

And then he thought about what it would feel like to do it to another man. To stick his cock between butt cheeks and push...

Startled, he realized whose butt cheeks he had been mentally penetrating.

He shook himself back to reality. That wasn't going to happen. There was no need for him to practice it anyway. According to Lou, Andre was always the top. While some clients asked to be the recipient, Andre never did.

"I brought you chocolates." He gestured toward the box he had left on the dining room table. "You said to bring you chocolates when you were feeling better."

"Thank you." He looked Napoleon over again. "And don't go to the barber shop."

"Don't go to the barber shop? Why not?"

"They'll cut your hair too short."

"You wear yours short."

"I'm not the one trying to pass as a male hooker. Here's the stylist I want you to go to."

He wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to Napoleon. Napoleon took the paper and pocketed it, bemused.

"Now pass me those chocolates."

*****

Showtime.

He looked the part.

Napoleon self-consciously brushed back a strand of what he could not help but feel was overlong hair as the cab pulled up to the Regency Hotel.

He paid the driver and got out of the cab. He carried an overnight bag as he walked in to the front lobby. Section I had made the arrangements; apparently they did this every year when Andre visited New York. He had been assured a local escort service worked in cooperation with U.N.C.L.E. to facilitate placing an agent in this role.

That was really all he knew about the setup. He knew that Waverly had a network of connections ranging from congressmen to the local bishop. But this?

He checked in with the desk clerk.

"Napoleon Solo?" The desk clerk repeated in disbelief then looked him over with a smirk. He knew what Napoleon was here for.

Good, Napoleon thought, glad he was passing muster with the hotel staff.

He gave Napoleon a card with the room number. "Mr. Andre and party have already checked in about half an hour ago. He's in the penthouse suite."

"Thank you." He knew that New York agents had been tracking Andre since he got off the plane.

He walked to the elevator, conscious that some people in the lobby were watching him. The snug pants flaunted his wares.

The elevator operator took him up to the penthouse suite. There was another passenger in the elevator, an attractive woman in her late twenties. The pinstriped business suite did not hide her feminine figure. Full breasts and hourglass waist. Thick blonde hair hung to her shoulders. She must have let it loose from being worn up all day.

Rising young career woman in town for a meeting, ready to kick back and relax in the evening. The optimal co-rider for an elevator ride. Normally Napoleon would be turning on the urbane charm and, more likely than not, they would be spending the night together.

He did not turn on the charm.

She glanced at him as they rode to her floor and gave him an indifferent smile. On some subliminal level, she recognized that he was not a suitable companion to share her bed.

Good, he thought. It's working. He was not sending out the usual "signals" so the instant connection he often had with the female of the species was not working.

Hopefully the new signals he had developed would.

The elevator operator eyed his ass.

Yeah, it was working.

*****

The man who opened the door was not Andre. This man had dark hair, and was large: at least six two and well over two hundred pounds. Napoleon handed the man his card. "I'm uh...here to see Mr. Andre."

The man took it and studied it. "The Elite Escort Service?"

"It has been arranged, Julio," a voice from inside the room informed him. "Let him in."

Napoleon looked past Julio and saw another man, similar in build and features. Still no Andre.

The second man came over and took the card. "Andre has used this agency before. They provide him with...companionship while he is in the United States."

"I...uh..." Napoleon stuttered out the pretense that they were not to believe. "I'm a valet."

The man grinned and looked him over. "Yes, of course." He muttered to the other man, "Prostitut."

"We will need to search him," Julio said.

"Of course."

The search was thorough, though no more unpleasant than similar ones he had endured. Napoleon had come to the suite with no weapons. Not only had he left his Walther behind, but following Sanders's orders, he had divested himself of his usual arsenal of exploding buttons, cufflinks, plastic explosives, and shoe with hidden compartment. He had left his watch with the tracer in his bureau drawer at home and instead was wearing the Timex his Aunt Amy had given him two Christmases ago.

If he had had any doubts about leaving his devices at home, the search dispelled those doubts. One of the guards had him take off all of his clothing, including the underwear. The other guard went through his clothing, turning each article inside out and shaking it. They didn't do a cavity search, though Napoleon suspected Andre would take care of that. They allowed him to put his clothes back on.

"He is not armed," Julio announced. "Senhor Andre, you may come out now."

He recognized the man who came out of the bedroom from the many photographs he had studied. Real life was always more vibrant than the photographs.

Blond hair and eyebrows at odds with intensely dark eyes. A neatly trimmed beard gave the man a slightly sinister look.

Well, why not? Actually, as a WASP official, this man was probably more than a little sinister.

"I'm here from the Elite Agency," Napoleon said bravely. "I understand you will be wanting...companionship for the next few days."

Julio handed Andre the card he had taken from Napoleon earlier. Andre looked at the card, verifying its authenticity. "I had hoped they would send Charles again. I requested him."

"Er...Charles no longer works for this agency. I think he moved to California." And he had. Charles Redmond, Section II, now with the West Coast office. Napoleon had studied the File 40s Redmond had written from last year's assignment.

"A very attractive, talented young man," Andre said. He looked Napoleon over. "But the Elite Agency always sends me attractive companions."

Napoleon nodded his head modestly. At least he had passed the visual test.

"Do you speak Portuguese? Spanish?" he asked.

"No," he shook his head apologetically. Actually he was fairly fluent in Spanish and could even speak halting Portuguese, but he didn't see any advantage in letting the WASP official know this. Better to be thought of as less skilled. Well, in languages, anyway.

"A pity," he said regretfully. "So few Americans do."

"I have but one tongue," Napoleon said. "However, I am quite skilled at using it."

Andre followed his sentence carefully. It took him a minute to catch the double entendre, but when he did he smiled. He raked his eyes over Napoleon. "We shall see." He turned to one of the bodyguards. "He is safe, Jaime?"

"Yes, Senhor Andre. We have checked him thoroughly."

"Bueno. You can leave us now."

Jaime and Julio left without comment.

"We will have privacy," Andre informed him. "They will wait outside the door." There was a small lounge outside of the suite near the elevator.

He motioned Napoleon farther into the suite. "I have just arrived less than an hour ago. We will see how well your tongue performs. It will be just what I need to refresh myself from my journey. Serve yourself a drink." He gestured toward the sink bar. "I will be out in a few minutes." He vanished into the bedroom. A minute later there was the sound of a shower running.

Napoleon looked around the room. The Regency was a four star hotel and this was one of the more expensive suites.

He went over to the wet bar. There was a small refrigerator. Rather than fix himself an alcoholic beverage, he poured himself a soda.

He took a deep breath and assessed the situation. He was on edge, but he had his nervousness under control. Ultimately, he was an actor, and this was one more role to play. He had played a similar one before.

Seduction. He had bedded WASP and Thrush women. It was, after all, just another role. He pretended to enjoy it. He convinced himself each time that he enjoyed it.

It was what he was good at.

There was a framed mirror on the wall. He went over to check himself out. The mirror was midsize and gave him a view of himself from the waist up. He backed up and got a longer view.

He was indeed pretty: the hairstyle, the outfit. He was wearing a purple tee-shirt as Lou had recommended, and tight jeans. Pretty boy.

He patted his hair, assuring himself it was neat enough, knowing it was.

He often found himself looking at mirrors. The mirror helped him to make the transition to the role he played.

He remembered the last time he had done this, just before he'd bedded Angela, the WASP woman who had tried to lead him into a trap and gotten herself killed. Angela had beautiful auburn hair which she loved to brush.

Beautiful Angela, riddled with holes.

At one time he had wondered how he could do it - make love with an enemy. But he trained himself, turn on the charm, turn on the sex, blood goes to the cock, ready, set, go...

He could assume the role at a moment's notice.

The shower stopped. A few minutes later Andre emerged from the other room garbed in a dressing gown. His hair was damp and combed back.

Napoleon set his drink on the counter.

Andre smiled at him. It was a predatory smile. Napoleon automatically tensed up.

And relaxed. This was what he was here for. Napoleon Solo, male hooker. It was what he was good at.

He almost believed it.

He smiled and Andre came over. He put his hands to Napoleon's face and drew him into a kiss.

Relax, Napoleon reminded himself. You've done this before. A million times. He had indeed kissed many women. He'd also been kissed by Cidrone when he'd first begun his initiation into male sex. And Illya.

In the midst of the kiss with Andre, he remembered the kisses with Illya. The shape of Andre's mouth was all wrong. His lips were thin and hard. Illya's lips were full, his lower lip...lush.

He wished he were kissing that mouth right now.

Andre had brushed his teeth. The taste of minty toothpaste, underlaid with tobacco. He was very much the one controlling the kiss. His style left no doubt that he would always be the one in charge.

Fine. Napoleon could be passive when the need arose. He allowed himself to be dominated. He softened his mouth, making it more receptive to the kiss.

After a minute Andre stood back, looking at Napoleon's face. "A good beginning. You have a nice mouth. The taste is fresh." He trailed a finger along Napoleon's lower lip. "Bonito. Now let us see if it is also generoso."

They went into the bedroom. The bed was large, king-sized, and already turned down.

Andre took off his robe and dropped it to the carpeted floor.

Napoleon took in the body of the man with whom he was going to be sharing a bed. Andre was as tall as he was. His body was wiry with a well-defined musculature. Napoleon suspected that in a fight he would be more than a match.

His skin was bronzed, as if he had lain in the sun for weeks, but there was no tan line. The body hair was light, the area around the pubes a V of dark blond hair.

Napoleon's eyes fixed on the area between his thighs. The cock was flaccid.

Andre followed Napoleon's gaze. "He is tired from his journey. You must make him want to participate, no?"

Napoleon smiled as if he had been offered a special treat. "I will give him a beautiful dream."

Andre listened in approval. "Then Napoleon, my bonito, you must take off your clothes. I wish to see your beautiful body."

Napoleon began to take off his clothes, conscious of the other man's eyes on him. He did a subtle striptease as he disrobed, turning at an angle that showed the curve of his ass. Lou had suggested he do this, and Napoleon improvised his own act, remembering how a prostitute from Reno had once stripped for him.

He removed the purple shirt slowly, emphasizing his own well-defined pectorals. Like Andre, he dropped the clothes to the floor as he discarded them.

He pulled his trousers down slowly, revealing his assets. He had not worn underwear underneath. He dropped the last garment to the floor and allowed Andre to assess the product he had paid for.

Andre raked his eyes over Napoleon's naked body appreciatively. "Very good. Excelente. You take good care of your body."

Napoleon smiled modestly. "Thank you." He did indeed work out on a regular basis, though not for this purpose.

His eyes went to the area between Napoleon's thighs, seeing Napoleon's unaroused organ. "Your little man is asleep also."

"He will arise...shortly," Napoleon promised.

"Bueno." Andre smiled, a flash of white teeth in a bronze smile. "Let us use the bed."

The two nude men moved to the large bed. Andre pulled Napoleon to him into a kiss. This time the kiss was invasive, exploring the depth of Napoleon's mouth. Andre's hands were rough, exploring Napoleon's back and ass. He grasped Napoleon's buttocks in a bruising grip, pulling their bodies together. Napoleon felt the other man's cock between them, a beginning erection.

"Yes, your mouth is warm, generoso. Large enough." Andre pulled back and smiled. "Pleasure me."

Napoleon worked his way down the other man's torso, kissing, licking along the way. He licked at the dark nipples. The other man's hands guided him, resting on his head. He allowed Napoleon to lick at his nipples, squirming for a moment, then gently urged Napoleon farther down.

Andre's organ had lengthened and he was almost fully erect. Napoleon stared at the cock a minute. Large and flushed a dark red. Larger than Illya's.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the other man. Familiar and yet different. He could not help but compare him with Illya, the only other man whose genitals he had experienced with intimacy.

He had fellated Illya several times in the past few weeks. Lou had said developing this skill was essential, as it was almost certain to be asked of him. And now he was being put to the test. The ability to give a good blowjob could make or break this mission. The oddness of being in this position, any discomfort he might feel, any qualms about performing fellatio on another man - had to be put aside.

He took a deep breath then began. He caressed the other man's organ with his tongue, running it around the tip, stroking along the underside, then opened his mouth wide and took the cock inside. The taste...it was like Illya's, but not quite the same.

Interesting. He had performed cunnilingus on countless women and never gave much thought to how one tasted different from another. But Illya's was the cock he had learned this on and he had come to think of it as the one right taste.

He sucked uninhibitedly. He moved his head, taking it in deep, something he had learned to do with practice. He had practiced this on Illya, to the other man's surprise. Illya had not objected.

Napoleon recalled the first time he had done this with his friend. Lou had told him that day he was going to have to practice sucking another man off.

One night, they had been in Napoleon's bed and they'd kissed and fondled for a few minutes. He could have kissed for hours. He loved the taste, the feel of Illya's mouth, and he loved the way Illya responded to his kisses.

Weak, helpless moans.

How could he be so turned on by kisses? Napoleon was aware that when they necked, he was the one in charge, as if he were seducing a young girl.

It was his nature to seduce, to take the lead, something he could not do when he was with Andre. But with Illya he did. Napoleon controlled the kissing. He drank deep of the other man's mouth. And listened to his moans, loving the sounds of pleasure he was arousing.

Knowing he could give more.

He could give Illya pleasure beyond belief.

He broke the kiss. He licked his way down Illya's body, tasting the skin along the way. Stopping for a minute at each area. He tasted the skin of his throat, then worked his way to the pink nipples. Lovely flat nipples, pink as a babe's with fine blond hair scattered around the rims.

He licked then suckled at one nipple, then the other.

Illya whimpered helplessly. He brought his hands to Napoleon's head and caressed it, tangling his fingers in Napoleon's hair.

Napoleon closed his eyes. He liked the feel of Illya's hands on his head, the taste of him in his mouth, and most of all, he liked giving pleasure to his friend.

He opened his eyes and noted Illya's erection jutting up strongly, flushed with need.

It was the most natural thing in the world to assuage that need. He opened his mouth wide and took it in. He sucked the tip and then hearing the moans of pleasure from his friend, he took it more deeply into his throat. This was a new thing for him, something he very much needed to practice.

A few women had done this for him; very few had done it well. They had seldom taken it as deeply as he would have liked, and now he could understand why. The gag reflex was easily triggered.

He made a concerted effort and relaxed his throat muscles, taking it deeper.

Illya's hands tightened in his hair. The sound he made was almost a keening.

Napoleon moved his head up and down, taking it deeper each time. His throat muscles adjusted to the sensation and he increased his speed, moving his head faster, faster, fueled by the sounds of pleasure from above. Napoleon loved the sounds, the tangible evidence of Illya's pleasure, and he found his mouth had curved to a smile around his cock.

Suddenly he realized how much he absolutely loved doing this to him. Was it because of how fond he was of the quiet Russian man or had Napoleon actually become so immersed in his role that he was feeling the emotions of a homosexual?

Could he have always been inclined that way?

The thoughts jumbled in his head uncomfortably, causing him to lose his rhythm. This was what Lou had warned him about.

He schooled himself back into the role. Back to business. Perform. Suck. Move head.

"Oh!" Illya gasped. "Napoleon...I'm close..." Hands stopped his head from moving. "Stop...I'm going to come..."

Napoleon resisted the warning and pushed the hands away. With his mouth he took the cock faster, faster. He sucked, a strong caress to the tip.

"Uh!" Illya cried out. His cock spurted into Napoleon's throat. Napoleon swallowed and swallowed, quickly, barely tasting. "Uh...uh..." Napoleon continued sucking, helping Illya finish his orgasm. "Ah..."

When he was done, Napoleon removed his mouth, then moved up beside his friend, anxious to see his face.

A look of dazed bliss was on the other man's face. His eyes were open, the blue eyes in bright contrast to the flushed face.

Napoleon licked at his own lips in satisfaction, tasting the evidence. Mission accomplished.  He petted at Illya's arm, wanting to keep the connection.

*****

Now he was giving the same pleasure to Andre, a WASP official. An enemy of all he believed in.

The feel of the man's cock in his mouth was not that different, a little larger but not uncomfortably so.

Napoleon could almost fool himself into thinking it was Illya he was fellating except for the sounds the other man made.

Illya's voice had a unique timbre which came through in his moans. The sounds of pleasure had become familiar and Napoleon loved to elicit those sounds.

The sounds this man made were different, more guttural, interspersed with Portuguese commands. "Mais forte. Sim. Bom."  Napoleon wished he would be quiet and just finish.

Andre gripped his head tightly, guiding him. "Mais rápido!"  Napoleon didn't like that but he didn't resist. Very well, faster then. Hopefully the faster movement would hasten his climax.

It did and within minutes, Napoleon felt the spurting in his mouth. He swallowed quickly and kept up the bobbing movement of his head.

After he had finished, he lay with the other man's cock in his mouth, allowing it to subside.

Andre sighed in pleasure. "Come here." He tugged at Napoleon's head. "Lie beside me."

Napoleon complied. Andre took his face in his hands and kissed him, plundering his mouth. Tasting his own seed. Napoleon was used to dominating when he kissed with women, and even with Illya he had taken the lead. This kiss was quite different and Napoleon made a conscious effort to make his mouth receptive to Andre's expectation.

"You have drained me," Andre said with satisfaction. "I can see the Elite Agency is maintaining its high standards."

"Our customer's satisfaction is always guaranteed," Napoleon borrowed the phrase from a current television commercial advertising laundry detergent or some such product.

Andre's hands caressed his arms. He ran his hands over Napoleon's chest, pinching his nipples, fondling his chest in a proprietary way.

He hands went between Napoleon's thighs and grasped his penis. Napoleon's penis was partially erect, somewhat to Napoleon's surprise; the fellatio and handling had aroused him somewhat.

"Your little man is not fully arisen," he commented.

"He is only concerned for your satisfaction, senhor," Napoleon explained. "Do you wish me to rouse him?" His hands went to his own cock and stroked.

"No," Andre said. "Let your little man sleep. We will play tomorrow. I will sleep now."

Relief. Sort of. He wasn't going to be fucked tonight.

*****

Andre drifted off to sleep. Napoleon waited until his breathing became deep and even.

Napoleon got up quietly and headed toward the bathroom. He washed up and brushed his teeth, rinsing the taste of the other man's ejaculate out of his mouth.

He came back into the bedroom and saw Andre was still sleeping, apparently soundly.

He thought about how Andre, a WASP official, was able to sleep in comfort, feeling secure with Napoleon in the same bed. Andre did not exhibit the same caution verging on paranoia, as did most secret agents. But there were reasons Andre did not fear for his own safety. He did not have the kind of position that put him in appreciable jeopardy.

To all appearances, Andre had his hands clean. He was unaware of the information U.N.C.L.E. had gathered implicating him in the last four years.

U.N.C.L.E. Section I had chosen not to make conventional authorities - or Andre - aware of what they had on him. Instead they utilized him every year when he visited the United States for the annual WASP conference.

Andre had no reason to suspect Napoleon of being involved in law enforcement and there was no fear that Napoleon was an assassin because of the thorough search his guards had done earlier. Besides, Napoleon wouldn't be able to leave the suite without going through the guards that waited in the outside hallway.

Within the suite, he seemed to have some freedom of movement, though Napoleon considered the possibility that there were security cameras.

Hopefully he could accomplish his mission even under the eyes of a monitored camera.

He turned on the small lamp in the corner of the room; it was low light, probably only forty watts. He located his shoes and Andre's where they had both discarded them earlier. He picked up the shoes, the clothes, and began a fastidious tidying, setting the shoes in a corner of the room neatly beside each other.

He brushed a bit of dust off of his and then off of Andre's. It was a subtle sleight of hand he had practiced for days under the careful tutelage of Turner the Magnificent, who worked at the nearby magic shop, and was also an U.N.C.L.E. consultant.

The listening device was smaller than a stamp, a dark brown, textured to blend with the leather of his shoe, and the same color as Andre's shoes. The color matching had been part of the plan. Six different pairs of shoes had been readied for Napoleon. U.N.C.L.E. surveillance at the airport had ascertained the color of the shoe Andre was wearing and selected a pair that matched the color for Napoleon.

Napoleon continued acting the valet, folding clothes neatly. If security cameras were observing they might think he was thoughtfully tidy.

He finished and prepared for bed.

Andre was sleeping nude; Napoleon would as well. He had had sex with agents from the other side before, but never slept with them, always making some excuse to leave afterward.

He climbed into the large bed. He was fatalistic. Perhaps he would somehow be discovered and wake up bound hand and foot. Or not wake up at all.

He shrugged it off mentally. What would be, would be. He pushed the worry out of his mind...or far to the back corner anyway.

Counting sheep had never worked for him. Thinking of women was out. He needed something to occupy his mind till he drifted off.

A movie. The new James Bond film? No. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with sex.

He had to go back a few years to find one.

Five Pennies. With Danny Kaye and Barbara Bel Gedes. This little penny is to dance on...

Not the type of movie he usually went to see, but it had featured Louis Armstrong whom he liked.

Illya liked jazz. They had gone to a jazz club a few months ago and seen Miles Davis. Illya liked Armstrong too. This little penny is to dream on... He drifted off to sleep.

*****

Strong hands explored his body.

Napoleon tensed up as he always did when he awakened to another's touch. His reaction was automatic. Friend or enemy? He assessed. Enemy. He remembered why he was here.

He made a conscious effort to relax his body. He turned and met the other man's eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," Andre answered. "Your mouth is excellent. Well worth the money." He smiled and then took Napoleon's mouth in a kiss.

Napoleon made his mouth receptive, allowing the other man access.

After a moment Andre withdrew. "Delicioso," he said with a smile.

Would he want another blowjob this morning? Napoleon waited for direction.

The man's hands went to his thighs, between his thighs. Napoleon's penis was stiff, his usual morning erection compounded by last night's stimulation.

"We will take care of you this morning, my menino bonito," he murmured. Andre fondled his cock for a moment and Napoleon was awkwardly aroused by the masturbatory manipulation.

Napoleon was somewhat surprised that his penis hardened so readily within the other man's hand. He was a bit chagrined at how susceptible he was to this type of stimulation, but it served him in good stead for this mission so he didn't try to fight his body's instincts. After a moment he reached for the other man's cock and began to fondle it. Would Andre want to be sucked off again today?

Apparently he had something different in mind. "Turn over," he said. "Nos seus joelhos. On your knees."

Napoleon shoved down the jolt of fear. The clenching in his stomach. He did it so quickly that his erection didn't have the time to deflate very much before he had turned over and climbed to his knees.

And waited.

Napoleon felt Andre's hand stroke over his ass. Then both hands, squeezing his cheeks.

"Lovely," Andre said appreciatively. He rolled off the bed, went to a drawer and rummaged for something. And returned to the bed. Unscrewed a cap.

Napoleon felt the jell-laden finger against the opening of his body, probing, exploring.

Two fingers then, pushing more lubricant inside. Finger fucking him.

"Ah." He found that spot, the one that felt so good. Napoleon lowered his face to the mattress, succumbing to the expert stimulation. Again and again the fingers stroked over the gland, sending delicious jolts of pleasure through Napoleon's nervous system.

Andre's other hand went to Napoleon's erection, gauging his arousal. "You like that, meu menino bonito?"

Napoleon didn't answer. It did feel good. His body's amoral response to stimulation was something Napoleon had never been proud of, but it served him well for his job.

Certainly this time.

Suddenly Napoleon realized why Sanders had selected him for this assignment. Not all agents were able to "get it up" for an enemy agent, no matter how beautiful, but Napoleon had always been able to do so.

Andre removed his fingers. Napoleon felt the now-familiar feeling of a penis pressed against his anus, then a strong thrust and he was filled.

His body did not fight it but settled comfortably around the other man's organ. I really am easy, he silently laughed at himself. But it was a relief to know he could do this as easily as he could fuck a WASP woman.

Andre started thrusting inside him and it felt pleasurable. "Sim, sim! Tão apertado. Perfeito. Sim..."  He reached around and grasped Napoleon's cock and pumped it, one, two, three... He thrust deep and Napoleon felt the pulse of the other man's orgasm deep inside. "Aii!"

His own climax came seconds later. "Uh...ah..."

Andre collapsed on Napoleon's back, breathing hard. Both men were damp with sweat.

After a moment, Andre pulled out and there was a plopping sound as his cock left Napoleon's body. Both men rolled to their backs.

Andre lay beside him, fondling his chest with a proprietary hand. Napoleon craved a shower but endured the touching. He had liked Illya's touches after they'd finished.

Napoleon glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Eight a.m. The conference was at ten. He wondered if Andre would want to fuck him again before the conference.

But no.

"We will have time for breakfast." He pinched Napoleon's nipple. "You need to keep your strength up for tonight."

Napoleon forced a smile. "That would be wonderful. I am hungry."

Andre sat up. "You may use the bath while I prepare for my meeting. Breakfast will arrive soon."

Napoleon nodded in gratitude. So they were going to do it again tonight, he thought as he headed for the bathroom. Then probably once tomorrow morning and Andre would be gone.

And if I'm lucky, this will be the last Z-48 assignment I ever have to do.

He turned on the shower and adjusted it to steamy hot. He scrubbed at his body, washing away the feel of the other man. He turned his back to the spray and let the water rinse the other man's sweat and semen from his back.

He could do sex with an enemy, male or female. But he always felt dirty afterward.

*****

He came out into the living room area and saw the breakfast cart had arrived. Andre was sitting in his robe at the table, eating. He gestured Napoleon toward the other chair. There were metal serving dishes with glass covers. Napoleon fixed himself a platter of eggs and bacon and added a sweet roll from a plate of pastries. He poured himself a cup of coffee. He did not add sugar or cream.

He found he was very hungry. He hadn't had much of an appetite the night before and had skipped dinner. His appetite had returned.

Andre finished his breakfast and stood up. His robe gaped open, flashing his genitalia. "You finish. I will take my shower."

Napoleon ate a leisurely breakfast while the other man showered. He squirmed in the chair thinking of Andre's genitals. And being fucked again tonight. Would it be from the front this time? Probably. Lou had said that Andre liked to do it in different positions.

It hadn't been too bad, he convinced himself.  Really no worse than doing it with a woman who was an enemy agent. Andre was not rough or inconsiderate.

It was not that difficult to assuage the dirty feeling he got whenever he had sex with an enemy agent. This was for a good cause. He had read the File 40s showing the intelligence that had been obtained from the last two Z-48 assignments on Andre. That information had given U.N.C.L.E. an edge and had saved lives.

Now if he could just ignore the prickly feeling he got from having sex with the enemy.

He squirmed in his seat and clenched his anal muscles around the memory of the cock that had been inside him a little while ago. It had felt...

Not painful.

Not unpleasant.

Not even okay. But...good.

He would feel that again tonight and probably tomorrow morning. That fullness filling him, pounding against his prostate.

He didn't want to think of Andre doing it to him again, crying out his Portuguese epithets and orders. Hearing his "Aii" as he climaxed.

He wanted to think of Illya's voice, calling "Napoleon!" as he tried to hold off coming in his mouth, followed by his sounds of pleasure when he finally came inside him.

Napoleon sighed. That wasn't going to happen again. There was no reason for it to. Napoleon was unlikely to be assigned another Z-48 mission for a long time, possibly never. Even if he were, he had learned his lessons well and would not need additional training.

What had happened to make him enjoy this?

He had been successful in becoming a homosexual for the "duration" as Lou had said he must do, but it seemed he had gone beyond that. Or had he? Could he have been inclined this way all along?

Napoleon shrugged the thought away. He did like women. He'd slept with dozens and thought he could sleep with dozens more.

To bury his face between a pair of female breasts or even better, bury his dick between a pair of female legs. The thought made his face warm and his cock rise.

All right, he wasn't a homosexual. But he wasn't totally straight either.

The eggs had lost their taste but he continued eating. He poured himself another cup of coffee and this time he added a lot of sugar.

Don't think about it, he reminded himself. You're a male prostitute. You do this all the time. He climbed more firmly back into the role and finished his breakfast.

The sound of the shower in the other room stopped. Napoleon stood up and brushed the crumbs off of his jeans. He went back to the bedroom, available to assist Andre if he wanted something.

Andre was coming out of the bathroom, nude, with only a towel draped around his neck. He looked at Napoleon and smiled.

Napoleon glanced surreptitiously downward at his cock. Not erect. Well, the man was forty, probably wouldn't be inclined to do it more than twice a day.

"You would like to do it again, meu menino bonito?"

"If it would please you, senhor."

He came over and took Napoleon's face in his hands and his mouth in a strong kiss. He had brushed his teeth and the minty taste blended with the taste of coffee in Napoleon's mouth.

"It would please me." While he talked, his hands fondled Napoleon's body. He squeezed his ass. "But there is no time this morning. I have a very important meeting." He reluctantly let go.

Napoleon tried to look disappointed.

"But tonight," Andre promised. "I will fuck you. I will fuck you twice."

So much for the over forty theory. "That will be wonderful."

He sighed. "I must dress now. You will assist, yes? My valet."

"Certainly."

Andre pulled underwear out of the chest of drawers and began to dress. "Get my shirt from the closet," he directed. "The light blue. And as calças. The trousers. How do you say...light brown?"

There were several pairs of brown pants on hangers. Napoleon took one down and brought it over. Andre shook his head. "Lighter."

Lighter? Napoleon returned the brown pants to the closet and selected a pair of beige linen pants. Andre took the pair. He sat on the bed and began to pull the pants on. "My shoes," he directed.

Napoleon went over to the shoes he had put away the evening before.

"No. Not that pair," Andre said. Napoleon froze. "The white ones. In the closet."

White shoes? Napoleon's dismay was not totally from the offense to his fashion sense.

There were two additional pairs arranged neatly on the floor of the closet: one white, another brown. "Are you sure you don't want the brown ones?" he suggested weakly.

"No, the white."

Napoleon glanced over and saw he was knotting his tie, a blue and white print. Unorthodox, but he had to admit the white would work better than the brown.

He took out the white pair. White leather.

He had never seen a pair like it, but he suspected they did not travel in the same fashion circles.

He sighed.

The listening device he had planted on the other pair of shoes was a dark brown, designed to blend into the leather. It was inconspicuous and designed to dissolve in forty-eight hours. If one looked closely one might easily dismiss it as an imperfection in the leather.

Dark brown bug. White leather.

It wasn't going to work. The bug would stand out on the white shoe like a dirty smudge.

He brought the white shoes over to Andre, his mind working furiously. All the clothing Andre was wearing today, even the belt, was light colored. And the bug on the brown shoes was the only one he had brought. If it was detected, they would not only lose the information they hoped to gather from this year's conference, it would jeopardize the possibility of any future information from a plant on Andre. WASP was not aware that U.N.C.L.E. had Andre under surveillance; this was what made this Z-48 mission so advantageous.

He glanced over at the brown shoes in disappointment. It would be better to let this one go rather than taking a chance on jeopardizing future opportunities. He began to straighten the clothes, tidying. He returned the brown shoes to the closet, palming the bug.

Andre walked into the living room area and Napoleon followed. The waiter had returned and was starting to clear the used dishes from the table and put them on the cart.

"Wait." Andre gestured the waiter toward him. He took out his wallet and opened it. He selected two bills and pressed the currency into the man's hand.

"Thank you, sir." The waiter looked at the bills. "You are most generous."

Andre smiled. "You gave good service. And I pay well for good service."

The waiter smiled then wheeled the cart out of the suite.

Napoleon's eyes were riveted to the wallet that Andre had not yet returned to his back pocket.

A brown leather wallet.

Napoleon moved over to the other man quickly. To Andre's astonishment, Napoleon pulled his face toward him in a passionate kiss. He pressed the WASP's body toward the counter. "Please..." he pleaded between kisses. "Do me again...before you leave. It was so good this morning when you took me."

"There is no time," Andre protested, but he was smiling fondly. He laid the wallet behind him on the counter. "I will fuck you tonight. As many times as you wish."

Napoleon let go reluctantly. "I don't want to wait. I miss the feel of you within me."

Andre caressed his face. "You are the best." He sighed. "I would prefer to spend the day with you, but this meeting is muito importante."

"Very well," Napoleon said. "But come back quickly. And perhaps...one more kiss?"

Andre took him in his arms agreeably. As they kissed, Napoleon subtly shifted their bodies so that he was closer to the wallet.

They broke apart.

"I must go," Andre said. "You will stay here and wait for me. Watch the television. If you want anything, call room service. Order whatever you want."

The phone rang. Andre went over to answer it. "Yes, I know it is time. I am leaving now." His back was to Napoleon. He paced impatiently as he talked.

Napoleon used the opportunity to reach behind him and take the wallet in his hand. He turned casually, shielding what he was doing with his body. He opened the billfold and pressed the bug to the smooth brown leather.

"No, I will not ride in the same car as that woman! Have them send another limousine." He turned, and caught Napoleon's eyes. His eyes lowered.

What had he seen?

"Wait," he told the person on the other end. He set the receiver down and strode quickly over to Napoleon. He grabbed Napoleon's wrist, the one that clutched the wallet.

His voice was dangerously smooth. "You steal from me?"

"No! I was bringing it to you. So you would not forget it."

He brought Napoleon's hand up and looked at the wallet. The billfold was not folded back. Napoleon met his eyes in unfeigned horror. Would he see the bug?

He used his terror as a distraction. "Please...don't tell my employers. It was a mistake." He made his voice weak, whiny.

The fondness Andre had exhibited earlier was gone. He looked at Napoleon in contempt. "You are a thief."

"No...I swear! I didn't take anything!"

Andre wrested the wallet from him and looked through the bills.

"You see...nothing's missing."

Andre saw that this was the truth. "Only because you didn't have the time to steal."

"I wasn't going to take anything," he whined, putting the lie in his voice.

Andre looked at him hard. "You were going to steal from me. I would have paid you well, but you were greedy."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to pay me anything at all. Just don't tell my employer!"

"Cowardly little whore!" He slapped Napoleon hard. "I will inform the Elite Agency I no longer want your services. And advise them that if they do not fire you, I will no longer be doing business with them."

"Please!"

"O silêncio!"  He strode back to the phone and picked up the receiver. "Send my guards." He slammed down the phone and turned to Napoleon. "I no longer require your services." His voice was cold, hard.

"Oh please..." He was practically sobbing.

Andre reopened his wallet and took out some bills. He thrust the money angrily into Napoleon's hand, and returned the wallet to his back pocket.

Yes!

The two guards, Jaime and Julio, entered the room.

"This...a espuma...tried to steal from me. Teach him a lesson and escort him from the hotel."

The two guards moved toward Napoleon and towered over him.

Oh no. "Look, guys, I think you might have misunderstood what Mr. Andre said..."

Julio grasped him by the arms so that Jaime could hit him. And hit him.

The beating hurt and Napoleon didn't try to pretend that it didn't. He even cried a little since the male prostitute he was pretending to be probably would.

They didn't spend too long on the "lesson" though he was bruised and aching when they dumped him on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Julio considerately dropped his overnight case beside his head.

Napoleon lay on the sidewalk, gasping. He glanced at his wrist and saw he was still clutching the two hundred dollars. I am going to treat myself to something nice for this, he promised himself.

A few passers-by looked at him curiously. He thought of the image he must present: blackened eye, blood running from his nose. Well, this was New York. Chances were, no one would get involved.

He used his shirtsleeve to wipe the blood from his face. He was not going to be wearing that shirt again. He wore a big grin on his face in stark contrast to the tears and blood.

Andre was carrying the wallet into the conference.

*****

A taxi took pity on him and picked him up. Several minutes later it dropped him off in front of Headquarters. The girl in reception looked at his rough appearance and grimaced but didn't say anything. She merely affixed the badge to his lapel.

He went to the men's washroom and tried to repair some of the wreckage.

"Mr. Waverly wants to see you in his office," the secretary informed him when he got to the Section II offices.

He looked down at his less than immaculate state of dress. "Like this?"

"He said immediately."

Napoleon sighed, then turned toward the Section I offices.

Waverly was at the round conference table with Sanders sitting opposite him. There were two women wearing headphones at a separate table, typing on dictation equipment.

"We're in the conference." Sanders gestured toward the two women. "They're making a transcript."

Napoleon smiled and took a seat next to Sanders.

"Mr. Solo, you look somewhat worse for wear. Did you have a problem?"

"Circumstances didn't go quite as expected. Mr. Andre was less than satisfied with my services. He will be lodging a complaint to the Elite Agency."

"Yet apparently you managed to plant the listening device on his person."

"Yes. There was a small price."

Waverly raised his eyebrows, taking in Solo's black eye and bloodstained clothes. "I see. Perhaps you should visit to the infirmary to ascertain there is no serious damage."

"I'm okay, sir."

"That's an order, Napoleon," Sanders said. "You look like hell."

"You won't be needing me?"

"No," Sanders answered. "We called you in to let you know things were going as planned. We're getting good reception."

"And to thank you for your services," Waverly added.

"Yeah," Sanders seconded. "Thanks, Napoleon. Why don't you go home after the doctor has checked you out? Your report can wait till tomorrow."

"Uh...thanks."

He left Waverly's office and went to the infirmary.

*****

Chasen assessed the damage from the beating and found it minimal. He prescribed something for the pain. Then he insisted on checking Napoleon out internally. Napoleon stared at the ceiling as the doctor examined him.

"No tears," the doctor reassured him. "There doesn't seem to be any serious damage, but I want you to come back if you have any problems. Any difficulty with your bowels."

"Okay." Napoleon pulled on his pants. He didn't think he would have any problems.

"And another thing..." The doctor looked concerned. "I think it would be a good idea to make an appointment to talk to Dr. Sharp." He was referring to the staff psychiatrist.

Napoleon frowned in surprise. What had he done to make Chasen worry about his mental state?

Chasen saw the question on his face. "This kind of assignment takes its toll in ways that we don't always see. There's no physical damage, but in essence, you've been raped, and you need to deal with that."

Rape? "But I agreed to the assignment."

"Just go visit Sharp," he suggested.

"All right." Maybe Chasen was right. The assignment had been odd and had definitely been a jolt to his psyche...not to mention his sexuality.

He pulled the purple shirt back over his head. It was stained and ruined. He would throw it away when he got home. He left the physician's office, glad to have that over and done with. Chasen wasn't bad as far as doctors go, but the infirmary would never be his favorite place.

*****

"Hello." Illya was waiting in the hallway outside. "I heard your mission ended early." He studied Napoleon's face, taking in the blackened eye. "I see you encountered some difficulties."

"A minor setback," he reassured him. "I accomplished what I needed to do."

"That is good." He walked with Napoleon toward the elevator.

The elevator came and the two men entered. Illya rode with him to the floor with the Section II offices.

"You had no problem with the...Z-48 aspects of the mission?" Illya's voice was low and concerned.

Napoleon answered him with warm gratitude. "Yes...I was well prepared."

Illya smiled in shy acknowledgement.

Napoleon smiled back but the smile did not reach his eyes. There was something he needed to deal with, a dilemma he had not anticipated. He had been fond of Illya before the onset of this mission but now his feelings for the other man had acquired a new twist he didn't know how to regulate. His body had awakened to this new sexual behavior; perhaps he had even been inclined that way all along, but never realized what he was missing.

By doing it with the quiet Russian, Napoleon had become...imprinted on the other man. His body responded to Illya's proximity, his scent, his look. He wanted to stand closer than he should.

Automatically he took a step away from him. No need to be too close to temptation.

Illya casually took a step closer.

Napoleon rubbed the back of his neck, perplexed. He inhaled. No cologne, just the mild scent of soap overlaying the natural scent of the other man. Something he never would have been conscious of had they not shared the unorthodox training sessions.

Napoleon got off at the Section II suite. Illya got off with him. Napoleon wondered why Illya hadn't gotten off at his own section. He accompanied Napoleon to his office. Napoleon began to gather up his things, the jacket he had left here yesterday, his Walther and holster. He put the jacket on. He reached for the cigarette pack he usually carried in his breast pocket, very much wanting a cigarette, but remembered he had quit.

"I put in the paperwork to transfer to Section Two," Illya said. "Mrs. Jacobs in personnel said it will undoubtedly go through and I will be reassigned by the end of the month."

Napoleon stared at Illya, myriad thoughts wrestling in his mind.

"Do you still want to talk to Mr. Sanders about working as partners?" Illya asked.

He'd put the idea in Illya's head, but now he didn't know if it would be such a good idea to work that closely with him. "Er...we can talk to him on Monday. I'm going home early today." He picked up his briefcase. Rubbed at his temple. A slight headache was starting to set in.

"I'll drive you home," Illya offered. "I am also taking off early today."

Napoleon nodded, accepting the offer. They left the building using the parking garage exit. Illya didn't own a car but often rode in to work with Napoleon. They walked together to where Napoleon had parked his car two days ago. Napoleon handed Illya his keys.

They didn't talk as Illya drove. Midday traffic was backed up. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, glad that Illya was the one negotiating the New York streets.

He might have dozed off but was brought to awareness when the engine was turned off. He opened his eyes. Not his apartment building. Illya's. He turned to his friend, waiting for an explanation.

"I thought we could have lunch. I will order a carryout. You have fed me so many meals these past few weeks, I thought I should feed you for a change."

Napoleon followed him into the building to his apartment. They sat in the living room.

Napoleon looked at the other man. Clean. Untainted. He should go back to his lab. Why had Napoleon ever tried to coax him out?

"There is something that I want to talk to you about," Napoleon said.

Illya looked at him expectantly.

"I was wrong to try to convince you to transfer. I think you should go back to personnel and tell them you've changed your mind."

"No." He shook his head. "I am not going to change my mind."

"Illya...you don't want to be part of this..."

"Why? If you think I am afraid of the type of assignment you had - the Z-48 assignment - I'm not. I want you to teach me. That's why I brought you here. I want to be able to do this if necessary. And...I would like for the first time...to be in my own bed. Someplace familiar to me. With you...also familiar with me."

"You don't know...you don't know how ugly it can be."

"I have been comfortable in Section Four. The work is easy for me." He looked intently at Napoleon. "It is easy to analyze a compound, to create gadgets. It is clean work.

"But somebody needs to do the dirtier work."

Napoleon leaned back and stared at the other man. "You really want to do this?"

"Yes. I do." Illya met his eyes unflinchingly. "Are you willing to...teach me to perform this role?"

This was a turn of events Napoleon had not anticipated. He wanted to have sex again with Illya, fantasized about it, but he had never thought it might be for this purpose. But if this was what Illya wanted...

"I think perhaps I should have my lesson now. Before lunch."

Napoleon nodded in assent.

Illya led him into his bedroom. A patch of noonday sun fell on the four-poster bed. Illya folded back the patchwork quilt.

The two men took their jackets and ties off. Napoleon lay the gun and holster on the bureau.

It would be so easy to initiate Illya, as Lou had initiated him. Napoleon now had the experience and he knew he could do it carefully and avoid pain or damage. He could do any position in the book.

But he wanted something more.

He sat on the bed and drew Illya down beside him.

"I will be glad to...teach you what I know for a Z-48 mission. But there is something else..." His voice trailed off.

"What?"

"The training...after the first time, I started to like it." He shrugged. "I guess I'm that way."

"I see." Illya did not look particularly surprised or troubled at this revelation.

"I didn't enjoy it with Andre." He swallowed and looked away. "It didn't hurt, but I really don't like doing it with the enemy."

"But sometimes you do."

"Yes." It was something he did. It wasn't painful, and didn't leave scars. Because of the nature of the human male, his body had to be convinced that he liked it. He was good at convincing his body this was what he liked.

But it left him feeling a little dirty afterward. Usually he could shake the feeling with a hot shower and a flirtation with one of the office secretaries.

It wasn't so easy this time.

He wanted to make love with someone he cared for.

You've been raped. The words Chasen had said to him earlier reverberated in his mind. He had discounted them before, but he knew it was true. And it wasn't even the first time.

He didn't speak for a long moment.

Illya became concerned. "Napoleon?"

He looked at his friend fondly. "I would be glad to help you train for a Z-48 mission. But not today. Today I need to make love."

Illya smiled. "Well, are you going to make love to me? Or should I make love to you?"

"Uh...how about we both make love to each other?"

Illya nodded, He moved into his arms, and Napoleon took his mouth in a kiss. Illya's mouth opened, receptive. Napoleon drank hungrily of the other man's mouth, as if he couldn't get enough. There was no artifice in the kiss, no control.

They pressed close together. Napoleon was hard, his erection protesting the clothes that separated them. He tugged at Illya's shirt, loosening it from the trousers. His hands went underneath, caressing skin. "Please..." he moaned into Illya's ear. "Let me touch you."

"All right," Illya answered, his voice hoarse. "Let me...get this off."

They broke apart, taking heavy breaths. They stripped out of their clothes quickly, dropping them to the floor.

Napoleon saw Illya was as hard as he was, his penis beautifully flushed. He pushed Illya to the bed and dropped to his knees. He took Illya's cock into his mouth, sucking it wetly.

Illya's hands tangled helplessly in his hair. "Napoleon..." Napoleon moved his mouth steadily, eager to bring pleasure to this man who moaned his name so beautifully.

"Please." Illya stopped his head gently. "Not this way."

Napoleon removed his mouth and looked up at him.

"This is so good." Illya swallowed. "So lovely. All of the times I've come inside of you...so lovely." He closed his eyes. "I really want you to come inside of me."

Napoleon stroked his inner thighs gently, not really surprised Illya was asking this of him. The closeness they had shared when Illya had been inside of him had been incomparable; it was only natural Illya would want to experience it from the other side.

"Yes." He stood up. "We'll need a lubricant."

Illya smiled at him crookedly. "I thought..." He took up a blue jar that was on the nightstand. Napoleon had thought it was a candle. Illya opened it and showed Napoleon the contents. "It feels a lot like Crisco but it comes in a prettier jar."

Napoleon took the container from him and smiled. He sat on the bed beside Illya and they kissed again. Napoleon thought he could do this for hours, loving the feel of the other man's mouth, touching him.

Illya moaned. He caressed Napoleon's wrist, the hand holding the jar.

Napoleon ended the kiss. Illya lay on the bed, face down. Napoleon used the lubricant to prepare him, working it in with one finger. Illya squirmed, thrusting into the mattress. "Napoleon..." he whimpered. His face was turned to the side, his eyes closed.

Napoleon knew Illya thought he was ready, yet he probably wasn't. He used more lubricant, this time working it in with two fingers, relaxing the sphincter. He found the small nub he recognized as Illya's prostate and rubbed it, eliciting a gasp from Illya.

Napoleon leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. He watched the expression on Illya's face as he finger fucked him.

It was time.

"Get to your knees, love."

Illya rose to his knees and Napoleon climbed into position behind him. He used some more lubricant on his own organ, shining it slick and hard. So ready for this.

He guided his cock to Illya's opening and pushed it in slowly, gently. Illya moaned, but Napoleon didn't think it was in pain. He continued till he was completely in. "I'm in. Am I hurting you?"

"No...it doesn't hurt at all."

"Good. Let's wait a minute...and you can get used to it." He caressed Illya's back as he spoke. "I've fantasized about doing this to you for weeks."

"Did you?" He could hear the smile in Illya's voice. "So did I."

Napoleon rocked in slowly then increased the pace, encouraged by Illya's appreciative moans. He shifted, changing the angle.

"Uhm...yes," Illya cried and Napoleon suspected he had hit the right spot.

He remembered how good it had felt for him and reached to take Illya's penis in his hand.

"Uhm...yes...uhh..."

Napoleon smiled at the moaning in Illya's familiar timbre. He had learned to love the pleasurable feeling of Illya stroking into him and knew he could give Illya the same pleasure.

"Uhm..." Napoleon increased his pace, sensing his friend was close. "Uhm...oh...yes!" He felt the rhythmic pull of Illya's body contracting around his cock as he climaxed.

"Oh..." Napoleon felt his own orgasm overtaking him and thrust faster. "Oh...oh...uhm...ah..." His orgasm pulsed deep into the tight passage.

He stayed inside for long minutes, reluctant to leave the sweet haven. He kissed Illya's nape, his hair, and fondled the softening cock in his hand.

His own erection deflated and slipped out of Illya's body. He sighed and moved off.

Illya turned toward him. They didn't speak for a moment, each catching their breath.

Illya touched his face gently, the black eye. "Does this hurt?"

"Only a little." He stroked his hand through Illya's hair.

Illya touched the other bruises on Napoleon's arms and chest, caressing gently. "A lot of ugly things happen to Section Two agents, don't they?"

"Sometimes they do."

"Then it is good that we will each have someone to take that ugliness away."

The words spoken in the voice he had come to love soothed away the bruises inside of Napoleon.

"Yes..."

Illya was going to work with him as his partner. He knew this man's voice, his touch - his company would make the lying, the deception of what he had to do bearable...

...and take the ugliness away.