The Final Chapter
Title: The Tell-Tale Dream
Author: aneuhaus
Rating: NC/17
Pairings: That would be telling!
Warnings: Slash
Part Ten
Illya simply had to kiss the Cupid’s bow mouth once more before he oiled his right hand and slid it between Napoleon’s muscled thighs.
Napoleon hissed when Illya’s middle finger made contact with his perineum. He massaged his way toward Napoleon’s sac, purposely staying in familiar territory for now.
It had been years since he had felt the heaviness of another man’s balls in his hand, and he rolled them tenderly to the music of his beloved’s groans. He stopped for just a moment to transfer some of the oil onto his left hand, and Napoleon nearly came off the bed. The brush of a thumb over a nipple gentled him, and Napoleon laid back and closed his eyes as Illya’s right hand wrapped around his penis and began a firm pumping motion. The feel, once again, of heated satin over forged steel caused Illya to remember their earlier intimacy, and he had to clamp down hard on his desire. As strong as his need was, it was more important to make this good for Napoleon.
His left thumb still working at Napoleon’s nipple, Illya released the fully erect cock and moved his hand downward, once again paying attention to testicles and perineum, until he found the impossibly small opening. He smiled at the memory of Napoleon blushing when he told him about the hole in the house, and him gliding into it. Once again, lust almost overpowered him; but sheer determination won out.
Slowly and carefully, he slid his still oily index finger into the puckered orifice and Napoleon moaned loudly. That was a good sign. Some men hated the feeling of being penetrated until they reached the ‘good part’, but that didn’t seem to be a problem here.
After working his finger until it moved in and out easily, Illya added a second digit and was rewarded with another loud moan. When he scissored the two fingers to help enlarge the opening, though, the first hint of discomfort caused Napoleon to squirm and try to move away.
Illya figured that the only way his partner was going to allow any further intrusion was to overwhelm his body to the point that he would ignore the inevitable, if negligible, pain. He slid his right hand underneath Napoleon’s thigh, his left hand joining it underneath the opposite thigh, and pushed up; bending Napoleon’s knees and exposing the erotic beauty of his most intimate parts. One day soon, Illya would take the time to look his fill; but not right now.
Napoleon had gone very still and his erection had flagged a little; but when Illya looked up, there was expectancy in the exquisitely handsome face. His hands drifted down to massage the generously rounded backside that had ignited the initial spark of infatuation, which had later kindled into love. He watched Napoleon’s penis rise until it was, once again, hugged tightly to his abdomen. If just the touch of his hands on Napoleon’s buttocks could cause such a reaction, then he was on the right track.
The first stroke of his tongue against the tiny hole brought a high pitched, keening wail; as though Napoleon was containing a scream behind clenched teeth. Oh, how Illya longed to hear that scream, but the wall that separated his bedroom from the Harris’s living room was far from sound proof.
As he continued to make love to the virginal aperture - kissing it, licking it with the flat of his tongue and then tickling it with the tip - it began to soften and warm. Napoleon had a death grip on the sheet with both hands and was babbling; first nonsense words of love and passion, then profanity in several languages, and then Illya’s name over and over. When Illya’s pointed tongue breached him, the scream could no longer be contained. The Harrises would simply have to turn up the volume on their television.
The scream entered Illya’s ears, bypassed his brain, and shot straight to his groin. It was now or never, so he lifted his head and reinserted the two fingers. This time, Napoleon pressed down as the slippery digits slid into him and pulled back as they were removed, fucking himself on Illya’s hand. Napoleon was participating, and that was the signal Illya was waiting for.
He pulled his hand from between Napoleon’s legs, picked up the bottle of oil once more, and quickly coated his throbbing cock; struggling not to come from the feel of his own hand.
“Turn onto your stomach, Napoleon,” he managed to grind out, but Napoleon opened his eyes and shook his head.
“This is our first dance,” he declared, “and I want to look at your face.”
For once, Illya was in no mood for a debate; so he shoved a pillow under Napoleon’s hips, pushed his knees up to his chest, and slid home. He wasn’t sure what reaction he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t laughter. A quick glance at Napoleon’s face confirmed it - he was laughing.
“Illya, my love,” he chortled, “I can’t believe that I was so afraid of this. I should have known that, with you, it would feel so good.”
Illya began to move, joyfully, inside his partner; taking care to stroke Napoleon’s prostate as often as possible. He had been taught, at a very young age, that sex was merely a biological need, and had always treated the act thusly; but the sight and sound and smell of his partner caused reactions in his body that he had never before experienced. Each stroke in and out brought a quiver down his spine that, simultaneously, spasmed in his groin and pierced his heart.
Too soon, he felt the flutter in his lower belly that signaled the end was near. He wrapped a slick hand around Napoleon and pumped in rhythm with his frantic thrusts. It was only a matter of seconds before he felt his hand covered with warm, sticky semen, and looked up at the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Napoleon’s head was thrown back, and his eyes and mouth wide open in ecstasy. Seeing his stiffly starched, sharply creased, buttoned down partner abandoned to his passion, knowing that he had been the one to bring him to that point, pushed Illya over the edge. For a brief moment he hung on the precipice, the pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable; then all the pent up emotion and desire was released in a climax that left him senseless.
When he came to, he was lying on his back and he was alone. He dejectedly threw an arm across his eyes; and then, unexpectedly, felt something wet sliding up and down his inner thighs. He uncovered his eyes and looked upon a most heart warming scene; Napoleon was tenderly cleaning the sweat and semen from his body with a wet cloth.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Napoleon quipped, not quite managing to hide the concern that edged his features. “I once read that it is impossible for a man to pass out from an orgasm. I suppose I’ll have to write an article of my own.”
“When I awoke and you were not here,” Illya confessed, “I thought it had all been just another dream.”
Napoleon tossed the wash cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He cupped his partner’s cheek in the palm of his hand and looked directly into his glittering eyes. “You dreamed about me?”
“Constantly,” Illya answered earnestly.
Napoleon cleared his throat to remove the lump and blinked several times to relieve the prickle in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.
“I did, many times.” Illya answered solemnly.
“Well,” Napoleon chuckled, “you should have spoken louder.”
Illya’s face softened, but remained serious. “I didn’t dare be any bolder. I could feel you retreating every time I made the smallest advance. I began to fear that being any more forthright may send you bolting, and not able to find your way back to me.”
“I simply can’t believe that I didn’t know.“ Napoleon shook his head slowly.
“You knew, Napoleon,” Illya replied, tenderly laying a hand over the one on his own cheek and returning his partner’s steady gaze. “You just weren’t aware.”
A troubled frown crossed Napoleon’s face for a split second, and then he smiled that smile that turned his eyes to warm honey. “Well, there are two things I do know. The first is that I am crazy about you; and no matter what the rest of the world thinks about it, I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
“I love you, too, Napoleon,” Illya interjected, with a slight quaver in his voice.
“And I know that you and I… what we did…” Napoleon stopped for a moment, flustered and embarrassed at his reticence. “I know that it was no dream, because I don’t need an expert to explain it to me.”
&&&&&&&
The following morning, a huge bouquet of flowers was delivered to Jason Palmer’s office. He was surprised that Eric had remembered the sixth anniversary of their moving in together, since the previous five would have gone unnoticed, had Jason not taken matters into his own hands. He was even more surprised when he opened the card and it read:
Dear Jason,
Thank you for making a dream come true.
Napoleon
& Illya
===============================================================
Research Materials:
Dream Dictionary for Dummies by Penney Pierce - Wiley Publishing, Inc. - copyright 2009
I had the Strangest Dream…The Dreamer’s Dictionary for the 21st Century by Kelly Sullivan Walden - Warner Books - copyright 2006
The Dream Encyclopedia-second edition by James R. Lewis and Evelyn Dorothy Oliver - Visible Ink Press - copyright 2009
Author: aneuhaus
Rating: NC/17
Pairings: That would be telling!
Warnings: Slash
Part Ten
Illya simply had to kiss the Cupid’s bow mouth once more before he oiled his right hand and slid it between Napoleon’s muscled thighs.
Napoleon hissed when Illya’s middle finger made contact with his perineum. He massaged his way toward Napoleon’s sac, purposely staying in familiar territory for now.
It had been years since he had felt the heaviness of another man’s balls in his hand, and he rolled them tenderly to the music of his beloved’s groans. He stopped for just a moment to transfer some of the oil onto his left hand, and Napoleon nearly came off the bed. The brush of a thumb over a nipple gentled him, and Napoleon laid back and closed his eyes as Illya’s right hand wrapped around his penis and began a firm pumping motion. The feel, once again, of heated satin over forged steel caused Illya to remember their earlier intimacy, and he had to clamp down hard on his desire. As strong as his need was, it was more important to make this good for Napoleon.
His left thumb still working at Napoleon’s nipple, Illya released the fully erect cock and moved his hand downward, once again paying attention to testicles and perineum, until he found the impossibly small opening. He smiled at the memory of Napoleon blushing when he told him about the hole in the house, and him gliding into it. Once again, lust almost overpowered him; but sheer determination won out.
Slowly and carefully, he slid his still oily index finger into the puckered orifice and Napoleon moaned loudly. That was a good sign. Some men hated the feeling of being penetrated until they reached the ‘good part’, but that didn’t seem to be a problem here.
After working his finger until it moved in and out easily, Illya added a second digit and was rewarded with another loud moan. When he scissored the two fingers to help enlarge the opening, though, the first hint of discomfort caused Napoleon to squirm and try to move away.
Illya figured that the only way his partner was going to allow any further intrusion was to overwhelm his body to the point that he would ignore the inevitable, if negligible, pain. He slid his right hand underneath Napoleon’s thigh, his left hand joining it underneath the opposite thigh, and pushed up; bending Napoleon’s knees and exposing the erotic beauty of his most intimate parts. One day soon, Illya would take the time to look his fill; but not right now.
Napoleon had gone very still and his erection had flagged a little; but when Illya looked up, there was expectancy in the exquisitely handsome face. His hands drifted down to massage the generously rounded backside that had ignited the initial spark of infatuation, which had later kindled into love. He watched Napoleon’s penis rise until it was, once again, hugged tightly to his abdomen. If just the touch of his hands on Napoleon’s buttocks could cause such a reaction, then he was on the right track.
The first stroke of his tongue against the tiny hole brought a high pitched, keening wail; as though Napoleon was containing a scream behind clenched teeth. Oh, how Illya longed to hear that scream, but the wall that separated his bedroom from the Harris’s living room was far from sound proof.
As he continued to make love to the virginal aperture - kissing it, licking it with the flat of his tongue and then tickling it with the tip - it began to soften and warm. Napoleon had a death grip on the sheet with both hands and was babbling; first nonsense words of love and passion, then profanity in several languages, and then Illya’s name over and over. When Illya’s pointed tongue breached him, the scream could no longer be contained. The Harrises would simply have to turn up the volume on their television.
The scream entered Illya’s ears, bypassed his brain, and shot straight to his groin. It was now or never, so he lifted his head and reinserted the two fingers. This time, Napoleon pressed down as the slippery digits slid into him and pulled back as they were removed, fucking himself on Illya’s hand. Napoleon was participating, and that was the signal Illya was waiting for.
He pulled his hand from between Napoleon’s legs, picked up the bottle of oil once more, and quickly coated his throbbing cock; struggling not to come from the feel of his own hand.
“Turn onto your stomach, Napoleon,” he managed to grind out, but Napoleon opened his eyes and shook his head.
“This is our first dance,” he declared, “and I want to look at your face.”
For once, Illya was in no mood for a debate; so he shoved a pillow under Napoleon’s hips, pushed his knees up to his chest, and slid home. He wasn’t sure what reaction he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t laughter. A quick glance at Napoleon’s face confirmed it - he was laughing.
“Illya, my love,” he chortled, “I can’t believe that I was so afraid of this. I should have known that, with you, it would feel so good.”
Illya began to move, joyfully, inside his partner; taking care to stroke Napoleon’s prostate as often as possible. He had been taught, at a very young age, that sex was merely a biological need, and had always treated the act thusly; but the sight and sound and smell of his partner caused reactions in his body that he had never before experienced. Each stroke in and out brought a quiver down his spine that, simultaneously, spasmed in his groin and pierced his heart.
Too soon, he felt the flutter in his lower belly that signaled the end was near. He wrapped a slick hand around Napoleon and pumped in rhythm with his frantic thrusts. It was only a matter of seconds before he felt his hand covered with warm, sticky semen, and looked up at the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Napoleon’s head was thrown back, and his eyes and mouth wide open in ecstasy. Seeing his stiffly starched, sharply creased, buttoned down partner abandoned to his passion, knowing that he had been the one to bring him to that point, pushed Illya over the edge. For a brief moment he hung on the precipice, the pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable; then all the pent up emotion and desire was released in a climax that left him senseless.
When he came to, he was lying on his back and he was alone. He dejectedly threw an arm across his eyes; and then, unexpectedly, felt something wet sliding up and down his inner thighs. He uncovered his eyes and looked upon a most heart warming scene; Napoleon was tenderly cleaning the sweat and semen from his body with a wet cloth.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Napoleon quipped, not quite managing to hide the concern that edged his features. “I once read that it is impossible for a man to pass out from an orgasm. I suppose I’ll have to write an article of my own.”
“When I awoke and you were not here,” Illya confessed, “I thought it had all been just another dream.”
Napoleon tossed the wash cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He cupped his partner’s cheek in the palm of his hand and looked directly into his glittering eyes. “You dreamed about me?”
“Constantly,” Illya answered earnestly.
Napoleon cleared his throat to remove the lump and blinked several times to relieve the prickle in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.
“I did, many times.” Illya answered solemnly.
“Well,” Napoleon chuckled, “you should have spoken louder.”
Illya’s face softened, but remained serious. “I didn’t dare be any bolder. I could feel you retreating every time I made the smallest advance. I began to fear that being any more forthright may send you bolting, and not able to find your way back to me.”
“I simply can’t believe that I didn’t know.“ Napoleon shook his head slowly.
“You knew, Napoleon,” Illya replied, tenderly laying a hand over the one on his own cheek and returning his partner’s steady gaze. “You just weren’t aware.”
A troubled frown crossed Napoleon’s face for a split second, and then he smiled that smile that turned his eyes to warm honey. “Well, there are two things I do know. The first is that I am crazy about you; and no matter what the rest of the world thinks about it, I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
“I love you, too, Napoleon,” Illya interjected, with a slight quaver in his voice.
“And I know that you and I… what we did…” Napoleon stopped for a moment, flustered and embarrassed at his reticence. “I know that it was no dream, because I don’t need an expert to explain it to me.”
&&&&&&&
The following morning, a huge bouquet of flowers was delivered to Jason Palmer’s office. He was surprised that Eric had remembered the sixth anniversary of their moving in together, since the previous five would have gone unnoticed, had Jason not taken matters into his own hands. He was even more surprised when he opened the card and it read:
Dear Jason,
Thank you for making a dream come true.
Napoleon
& Illya
===============================================================
Research Materials:
Dream Dictionary for Dummies by Penney Pierce - Wiley Publishing, Inc. - copyright 2009
I had the Strangest Dream…The Dreamer’s Dictionary for the 21st Century by Kelly Sullivan Walden - Warner Books - copyright 2006
The Dream Encyclopedia-second edition by James R. Lewis and Evelyn Dorothy Oliver - Visible Ink Press - copyright 2009