The Twelve Fics of Christmas - For The Wretching
On the First Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me: A Departure from Gate Three
On the Second Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me: Two Coffee Cups
On the Third Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me: Three Tired Elementals
On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me:
Title: Four Blowing Winds
For: The Wretching
Genre: Man from UNCLE - AU slash
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1448
Prompt: Napoleon and Illya get snowed in. To put a different spin on this, I set it in my Hot Tropic Nights AU world. Napoleon is a best selling author. Illya plays around with being a tourist guide, but also owns a small hotel.
It sounded like a woman screaming and made Napoleon Solo sit straight up in bed. For a moment, he was confused as to his location. He strained his ears, listening for traffic, but heard only pounding waves.
Waves? In New York?
A sharp crack spun his head toward the wall and there was movement by his elbow.
“Napoleon, what’s wrong?” Illya Kuryakin snapped on the bedside light and Napoleon blinked at the onslaught of illumination. Instantly, reality came back to Napoleon. Not New York, Tahiti. He lived in Tahiti now… well, Rangi, to be more accurate, with his lover.
“I thought I heard something.”
“I think there’s a storm coming, a big one. Le Vent du Diable will be playing hell with us. At times, it’s as if the wind comes in all four directions at once.”
“Le Vent du Diable?” Napoleon’s French was coming along, but he still stumbled on a word now and again.
“The Devil’s Wind. I’m glad we are here and not on Rangie.” The decision had been made weeks ago to spend Christmas with Illya’s parents at their Papeete estate. They lived, with Illya’s two sisters, just outside town and well inland.
“Why is that?”
“If the storm was hitting Rangi as hard as here, there would be nothing left.” Illya sat up and stretched.
That comment sent twinges of concern through Napoleon. They had a small home in Tevaro. “What about Aita pe’a pe’a? Will it be okay?”
“I doubt they are even getting rain. Remember that Tevaro faces the lagoon.”
“It’s just…”
“You left most of your next masterpiece there.” Illya reached for his watch. “There are still a couple of hours before we can call and get a reasonable answer.” He flopped back in bed and smiled. “It’s not even midnight.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep with that wind.”
“Then don’t. Talk to me. Tell me about your Christmases.”
“Illya, my love, I’m Jewish.”
“Mea culpa. I keep forgetting.”
“That’s okay. Tell me about yours.” Napoleon was none too eager to share his memories of Hanukah. His mother even managed to make holidays horrible. Instead of having a feast and presents as his friends did, his mother chose to mourn the holiday, dwelling upon past losses and failed dreams. She usually ended up drunk on the Manischewitz wine.
“Well, nothing starts here until Christmas Day, then it’s one non-stop party for the next two weeks.” Illya sighed happily.
“Really?”
“Most of the stores are closed for the entire two weeks, although the grocery stores stay open. There are parties and food. Lots and lots of food. Mama is a wonderful cook.”
“And that would make this the most wonderful time in the world for you.”
“Well, that and being able to just hang out without worrying about work.”
“Like you are over-burdened with it now,” Napoleon teased.
“It’s not my fault that I can’t get out of bed now. I am trapped in your orbit and never want to leave your side.”
“I don’t-“ Napoleon started and there was a knock on the door.
“Illya! Napoleon! Papa says you must come now!” It was Yana, Illya’s sister. “We must do the shutters!”
“We’re coming!” Illya shouted back.
“Shutters?” Napoleon tossed back the bedclothes and frowned at his semi erect penis. “You will have to wait.”
Illya threw Napoleon his clothes. “I will be sure to make it worth the wait. For now, hurry.”
“What about the servants?”
“Papa gives them all the week off. It’s just us. Come on!”
****
It seemed like a century before the two staggered back into their bedroom. Napoleon shivered beneath his blankets.
“I didn’t think it got cold in Tahiti,” he said, teeth chattering.
“When Monsieur Diable visits, it gets very cold.” Illya gave Napoleon a none-too-gentle shove. “Into the shower.”
Napoleon reached in and turned the water on, glancing over as Illya entered with a lit kerosene lantern. “A candle is more romantic.”
“I’ve seen the lights flicker. If they go out while we are showering, I feel safer with a lantern.”
Both men stripped and stepped into the large shower. Napoleon personally wanted to rip out the shower in their home in Tevaro out and replace it with one like this. Not only was the floor non-slip, there was a small bench against the far end that held towels. He loved the thought of not having to leave the shower for a towel.
He stepped under one of three different shower heads, another aspect he loved, and let the warm water cascade down on him.
Within a moment, there were hands on him and he smiled leaning back into the embrace. “Thank you for your help, tonight.”
“It’s what you do for family.”
“It is, indeed.” Illya’s tongue traveled across the nape of Napoleon’s neck, followed by a soft nip. It moved lower and lower while Napoleon mumbled endearments. Then Illya’s mouth found Napoleon’s penis and it was enough just to grip Illya’s head and let him set the pace. Napoleon let his head tip back, eyes closed as the water caressed his face as Illya’s mouth paid homage to Napoleon’s erection.
It was over far too fast for Napoleon’s tastes, but in the end it was just too much to hold back and he felt his fingers curl into the blond hair and then he was thrusting, oblivious to whether or not he was choking Illya. Nothing matter at the moment except for completion.
When it came, Napoleon greeted it with a gasp and a moan. He leaned against the tile, feeling Illya’s mouth gently release him. He opened his eyes and smiled at Illya’s sultry look.
“Good?”
“Very good.” Napoleon’s hand found Illya’s penis, rock hard and oozing pre-seminal fluid. “What about you?”
“I think turnabout would be fair play.” Illya made a twirling motion and Napoleon’s stomach fluttered happily.
Napoleon leaned over on the beach seat, propped up by a stack of a half dozen towels. He knew they had the proper lubricants within reach and he felt one of Illya’s fingers, impossibly slick, enter him. He arched back and happily accepted a second and then a third. Abruptly they were gone and Napoleon tried to console himself that they would be replaced by something much better, but even that brief absence made him sad.
He sucked in his breath as he felt the tip of Illya’s penis press against his anus. He pushed back and it popped in. “There you are,” he murmured.
“Here I am.”
Napoleon’s world narrowed to just them, just this sensation, just this love he felt surging through his blood. It didn’t take Illya long before his hand again found Napoleon’s penis hard and aching for his touch.
They came, not exactly together, but close enough.
Illya draped himself over Napoleon still-bent body and sighed, rubbing a whisper rough cheek against the sensitive skin on Napoleon back. Then he paused and straightened. “When did the lights go out?”
He helped Napoleon stand and the dark-haired man shook his head slowly. “What lights?”
“You are indeed foolishly in love.”
“As long as it’s with you, that’s all I need.”
“Me, as well… and perhaps a couple more hours of sleep. Emma will have us up early to see if Papa Noel has arrived.” Illya turned off the water and reached for a towel.
They headed back to bed, carrying the lantern with them. As Napoleon climbed in, Illya went to the phone and dialed a number.
“Oui?”
“Ah, Louie, you are awake.” Illya greeted his cousin. “Joyeux Noël.”
“Joyeux Noël, cousin. Qu'Est-ce que ce est?”
“What is the weather like there?”
“Terrible. The Trades died last night. It is hot and muggy. The tourists are enjoying it, but they have air conditioning. We are sweltering.”
“And chance of rain?”
“Maybe later today? Is there a problem?”
“Le Vent du Diable is here. Napoleon was worried.”
“Tell him all is fine. I stopped at your place last night and fed his fish.”
“Thank you. I wish you a good day, cousin.”
“We are likely to be house bound today, but I'm sure we will find something to do.”
"Then have an even better day."
"And you."
Illya joined Napoleon in bed and spooned into his embrace. “You heard?”
“I did. Thank you.”
“All part of the services rendered.”
“I love your services rendered.”
“Maybe later, right now, sleep. Oh, Joyeux Noël.”
“And you.” Ahead of them stretched a week of celebration and fun, but for now, Napoleon left the outside world, with its rain and its wind, make do with itself. His world was lying in his arms and he was just fine with that.
On the Second Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me: Two Coffee Cups
On the Third Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me: Three Tired Elementals
On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my UNCLE sent to me:
Title: Four Blowing Winds
For: The Wretching
Genre: Man from UNCLE - AU slash
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1448
Prompt: Napoleon and Illya get snowed in. To put a different spin on this, I set it in my Hot Tropic Nights AU world. Napoleon is a best selling author. Illya plays around with being a tourist guide, but also owns a small hotel.
It sounded like a woman screaming and made Napoleon Solo sit straight up in bed. For a moment, he was confused as to his location. He strained his ears, listening for traffic, but heard only pounding waves.
Waves? In New York?
A sharp crack spun his head toward the wall and there was movement by his elbow.
“Napoleon, what’s wrong?” Illya Kuryakin snapped on the bedside light and Napoleon blinked at the onslaught of illumination. Instantly, reality came back to Napoleon. Not New York, Tahiti. He lived in Tahiti now… well, Rangi, to be more accurate, with his lover.
“I thought I heard something.”
“I think there’s a storm coming, a big one. Le Vent du Diable will be playing hell with us. At times, it’s as if the wind comes in all four directions at once.”
“Le Vent du Diable?” Napoleon’s French was coming along, but he still stumbled on a word now and again.
“The Devil’s Wind. I’m glad we are here and not on Rangie.” The decision had been made weeks ago to spend Christmas with Illya’s parents at their Papeete estate. They lived, with Illya’s two sisters, just outside town and well inland.
“Why is that?”
“If the storm was hitting Rangi as hard as here, there would be nothing left.” Illya sat up and stretched.
That comment sent twinges of concern through Napoleon. They had a small home in Tevaro. “What about Aita pe’a pe’a? Will it be okay?”
“I doubt they are even getting rain. Remember that Tevaro faces the lagoon.”
“It’s just…”
“You left most of your next masterpiece there.” Illya reached for his watch. “There are still a couple of hours before we can call and get a reasonable answer.” He flopped back in bed and smiled. “It’s not even midnight.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep with that wind.”
“Then don’t. Talk to me. Tell me about your Christmases.”
“Illya, my love, I’m Jewish.”
“Mea culpa. I keep forgetting.”
“That’s okay. Tell me about yours.” Napoleon was none too eager to share his memories of Hanukah. His mother even managed to make holidays horrible. Instead of having a feast and presents as his friends did, his mother chose to mourn the holiday, dwelling upon past losses and failed dreams. She usually ended up drunk on the Manischewitz wine.
“Well, nothing starts here until Christmas Day, then it’s one non-stop party for the next two weeks.” Illya sighed happily.
“Really?”
“Most of the stores are closed for the entire two weeks, although the grocery stores stay open. There are parties and food. Lots and lots of food. Mama is a wonderful cook.”
“And that would make this the most wonderful time in the world for you.”
“Well, that and being able to just hang out without worrying about work.”
“Like you are over-burdened with it now,” Napoleon teased.
“It’s not my fault that I can’t get out of bed now. I am trapped in your orbit and never want to leave your side.”
“I don’t-“ Napoleon started and there was a knock on the door.
“Illya! Napoleon! Papa says you must come now!” It was Yana, Illya’s sister. “We must do the shutters!”
“We’re coming!” Illya shouted back.
“Shutters?” Napoleon tossed back the bedclothes and frowned at his semi erect penis. “You will have to wait.”
Illya threw Napoleon his clothes. “I will be sure to make it worth the wait. For now, hurry.”
“What about the servants?”
“Papa gives them all the week off. It’s just us. Come on!”
****
It seemed like a century before the two staggered back into their bedroom. Napoleon shivered beneath his blankets.
“I didn’t think it got cold in Tahiti,” he said, teeth chattering.
“When Monsieur Diable visits, it gets very cold.” Illya gave Napoleon a none-too-gentle shove. “Into the shower.”
Napoleon reached in and turned the water on, glancing over as Illya entered with a lit kerosene lantern. “A candle is more romantic.”
“I’ve seen the lights flicker. If they go out while we are showering, I feel safer with a lantern.”
Both men stripped and stepped into the large shower. Napoleon personally wanted to rip out the shower in their home in Tevaro out and replace it with one like this. Not only was the floor non-slip, there was a small bench against the far end that held towels. He loved the thought of not having to leave the shower for a towel.
He stepped under one of three different shower heads, another aspect he loved, and let the warm water cascade down on him.
Within a moment, there were hands on him and he smiled leaning back into the embrace. “Thank you for your help, tonight.”
“It’s what you do for family.”
“It is, indeed.” Illya’s tongue traveled across the nape of Napoleon’s neck, followed by a soft nip. It moved lower and lower while Napoleon mumbled endearments. Then Illya’s mouth found Napoleon’s penis and it was enough just to grip Illya’s head and let him set the pace. Napoleon let his head tip back, eyes closed as the water caressed his face as Illya’s mouth paid homage to Napoleon’s erection.
It was over far too fast for Napoleon’s tastes, but in the end it was just too much to hold back and he felt his fingers curl into the blond hair and then he was thrusting, oblivious to whether or not he was choking Illya. Nothing matter at the moment except for completion.
When it came, Napoleon greeted it with a gasp and a moan. He leaned against the tile, feeling Illya’s mouth gently release him. He opened his eyes and smiled at Illya’s sultry look.
“Good?”
“Very good.” Napoleon’s hand found Illya’s penis, rock hard and oozing pre-seminal fluid. “What about you?”
“I think turnabout would be fair play.” Illya made a twirling motion and Napoleon’s stomach fluttered happily.
Napoleon leaned over on the beach seat, propped up by a stack of a half dozen towels. He knew they had the proper lubricants within reach and he felt one of Illya’s fingers, impossibly slick, enter him. He arched back and happily accepted a second and then a third. Abruptly they were gone and Napoleon tried to console himself that they would be replaced by something much better, but even that brief absence made him sad.
He sucked in his breath as he felt the tip of Illya’s penis press against his anus. He pushed back and it popped in. “There you are,” he murmured.
“Here I am.”
Napoleon’s world narrowed to just them, just this sensation, just this love he felt surging through his blood. It didn’t take Illya long before his hand again found Napoleon’s penis hard and aching for his touch.
They came, not exactly together, but close enough.
Illya draped himself over Napoleon still-bent body and sighed, rubbing a whisper rough cheek against the sensitive skin on Napoleon back. Then he paused and straightened. “When did the lights go out?”
He helped Napoleon stand and the dark-haired man shook his head slowly. “What lights?”
“You are indeed foolishly in love.”
“As long as it’s with you, that’s all I need.”
“Me, as well… and perhaps a couple more hours of sleep. Emma will have us up early to see if Papa Noel has arrived.” Illya turned off the water and reached for a towel.
They headed back to bed, carrying the lantern with them. As Napoleon climbed in, Illya went to the phone and dialed a number.
“Oui?”
“Ah, Louie, you are awake.” Illya greeted his cousin. “Joyeux Noël.”
“Joyeux Noël, cousin. Qu'Est-ce que ce est?”
“What is the weather like there?”
“Terrible. The Trades died last night. It is hot and muggy. The tourists are enjoying it, but they have air conditioning. We are sweltering.”
“And chance of rain?”
“Maybe later today? Is there a problem?”
“Le Vent du Diable is here. Napoleon was worried.”
“Tell him all is fine. I stopped at your place last night and fed his fish.”
“Thank you. I wish you a good day, cousin.”
“We are likely to be house bound today, but I'm sure we will find something to do.”
"Then have an even better day."
"And you."
Illya joined Napoleon in bed and spooned into his embrace. “You heard?”
“I did. Thank you.”
“All part of the services rendered.”
“I love your services rendered.”
“Maybe later, right now, sleep. Oh, Joyeux Noël.”
“And you.” Ahead of them stretched a week of celebration and fun, but for now, Napoleon left the outside world, with its rain and its wind, make do with itself. His world was lying in his arms and he was just fine with that.