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The Top to Bottom to Switch Affair; Chapter 9

-a Man from UNCLE slash fanfic by Taylor Dancinghands

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Genre: slash, first time, h/c, BDSM, A/U: BDSM Universe (Origionally created by Xanthe )
Warnings: Explicit BDSM sex ==>THIS CHAPTER!!!!<== + m/m; m/f; dubious consent
Rating: adult, aka NC-17

Length: 41,000 + wds; 9 Chapters. I can't seem to do anything else.

Summary: Set in a BDSM AU. Alpha Top Napoleon Solo, the new CEA at UNCLE, is surprised when he is asked to take a sub on a mission with him. Illya Kuryakin has his secrets, and Napoleon just can't leave well enough alone. Getting the Russian's secrets from him will come with a price, however, for Napoleon has his own secrets -ones that he's keeping from himself, and those are the most dangerous secrets of all.

Intro page and Chapter Index


~~~~~




Disclaimer: I'm old, but still not old enough to be any of the writers or owners of the Man from UNCLE intellectually property. I swear, my own twisted musings are not costing those people a dime, and I won't be making a penny myself.

Chapter 9

Illya was not meant to know that there was going to be any sort of shift in tactics at this point, and so the first thing Napoleon did next was to lean over his sub's body and lick the painfully abused nipples and toy with the clamps that held them so cruelly. This made Illya cry out again, loudly, but his body remained lax, so that Napoleon knew he was still deep in his sub-space. Now Napoleon began to prepare a few things he needed for an ingenious trick he'd actually learned from a rent-boy he'd employed in Seoul while on leave one weekend.

First he cut the thumb from a medical latex glove, leaving a generous portion of the base attached. Next he inserted his own tongue into the 'thumb' space, coated the latex covering his tongue with lube and waited a moment for it to warm to his own skin temperature. Master Giuseppe had been of the opinion that a thorough enema would render a partner safe for rimming, but Napoleon had learned otherwise in college, and had also learned that enemas can suck the fun out of even an excellent rim job. This solution, however, had the benefits of being both safe and uncomplicated.

Feeling the soft, warm, slippery pressure of his (latex covered) tongue circling his entrance would come almost as a shock to Illya, in contrast to what he'd been experiencing only a moment ago. Illya gave a huge gasp and a shudder at this contact, so that the bells on the silver chain chimed, tugging once more on his cock and nipples. Napoleon smoothed his hand over Illya's over-sensitized thighs and continued to tongue Illya's entrance, circling, lapping, and then pressing inside.

Napoleon loved how thoroughly this undid his subs, every time. His sense of mastery, and of control sang in his veins as he forced his way into his sub's body, claiming every part of him. One hand holding the bit of glove in place, the other soothing Illya's trembling body, Napoleon slowly tongue fucked his sub until his tongue had had all it could take. By that time Illya was keening softly with arousal and pleasure, and Napoleon was almost painfully hard within the confines of his cock ring.

Drawing his mouth away from Illya, he removed the bit of glove from his tongue and disposed of it tidily. He then came to kneel on the bed between Illya's open thighs and adjusted the ropes supporting the lower half of Illya's body so that he was tilted downward and positioned perfectly for Napoleon to enter him. He leaned over his sub first, however, gently stroking his face before demanding another kiss. Illya was utterly lost in sensation now, and opened to Napoleon's demand as if it were second nature; as if he were merely an extension of Napoleon's desire.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Napoleon murmured as he drew back from the kiss.

"Yes... yes please," was all that Illya said in reply, and Napoleon felt another surge of triumphant Dominance.

"You will come when I tell you to," he said now, calming himself so that he wouldn't come the minute he removed his cock ring. He released the snap with trembling fingers, taking slow, deep breaths.

"Yes," Illya said again. "Yes, please."

Positioning himself at Illya's entrance without further pause, Napoleon closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself and savoring this fulfillment of his desires. When he finally pressed his way in, it was like a homecoming, the culmination of a lifelong search for something he hadn't even known he was looking for.

"Illya, oh God, Illya," he moaned, feeling himself enclosed in the tight, slick heat of his sub's body. He remained there, unmoving for a long moment as Illya's body became accustomed to his intrusion and he became accustomed to sensations of Illya's strength and warmth all around him. Something came to Napoleon then —an epiphany of sorts which would change the way he thought about many things in the days and years to come.

His was the prerogative to Dominate, to command and to control the situation, but the strength —the real strength— that belonged to Illya. His was the strength of the reed which may bow in the wind when the tree shatters, and this might well be said of all subs. The strength of a Dominant was fragile, brittle, and Napoleon knew it to be true even of himself. Here he was, the man in control, but it was Illya who surrounded him, held the most vulnerable part of him in the most intimate embrace possible, with the boundless strength to let Napoleon have his way with him entirely. The enormousness of the notion might have unmanned him entirely save that he was here to service Illya, as much as Illya was here to serve him.

Stricken to the soul by the profundity of this act, this dance of power and consent in which they were taking part, Napoleon began to move, slowly at first with small thrusts of his hips, then more deeply. Illya groaned low and loud in response to his deepening thrusts and Napoleon took hold of the sling and began to move Illya's whole body in counterpoint to his own, pushing Illya away as he withdrew and pulling him forward as he thrust in. They both cried out now, with passion and desire as their bodies knew the repeated torment of separation and ecstasy of rejoining.

The beauty of this arrangement was that it meant no effort at all for Illya and relatively little for Napoleon. In theory they could carry on in this manner for hours, but both men were far too aroused and desirous of completion to do so tonight. Napoleon had been fighting off his climax from nearly the first moment he entered Illya's body and now he knew he could fight it no longer. Glancing up at his sub, he saw Illya's body sheened with sweat, his face dreamy and lost in pleasure but his cock rigid and slick with precum.

With trembling fingers, Napoleon unhooked the silver chain from Illya's cock, smiling to hear the sobbing groan Illya gave as he brushed the slick head and toyed with the little barbell.

"Come now, my Illyushka," Napoleon murmured. "Come for me now, let me see you..."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Illya gave a soul deep moan and threw his head back in ecstasy, his release pulsing over Napoleon's hand and over his own chest and belly. At the first contraction of Illya's body around Napoleon's cock, he was propelled into his own climax, vision whiting out, body spasming with pleasure and release. He lost time... possibly they both did, for the climax spun out between the two of them, echoing back and forth until it finally dwindled into stillness.

Napoleon returned to himself still inside his sub, draped over his body with his arms wrapped tight around him. There were tears in his eyes.

"Jesus God almighty," he said in a wrecked voice, lifting himself up slowly and carefully withdrawing. Illya made a small sound at this, but his face was relaxed under the blindfold, his expression serene. Napoleon reached up slowly to brush his sub's face.

"Hey," he said softly. "You okay?" Illya nodded.

"I'm going to take the nipple clamps off now... unless you want the blindfold off first?" Illya shook his head at this, which did not surprise Napoleon in the least. Illya gave a sharp hiss as the pressure was released from each nipple, and Napoleon inspected each closely to assure that no real damage had been done. His mark remained below Illya's collarbone as intended, and seeing it made Napoleon smile again.

"Okay, I'm going to release your ankles now," he continued, waiting for Illya's nod before he moved. Lowering each leg carefully to the bed, Napoleon next notified Illya that his arms would be released and gently massaged his overstretched shoulder muscles as he did so. Now that Illya was finally free of the sling Napoleon lifted him off of it and laid him on the bed, then cleared the sling away so that the two of them could lay curled together there, much as they had done on the cold, damp, makeshift bed in the abandoned cabin, during their first mission together.

"You can take the blindfold off any time you wish," Napoleon said softly, pressing his lips to Illya's cheek. "Whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Illya finally spoke, his voice little more than a whisper.

The hour was quite late, and they both might have slept, or at least dozed, but Napoleon did not. Some part of him still vibrated with the Dominant energy of the scene, and the sheltering and tending to his sub in the aftermath was very much part of that. He had a feeling that Illya was enjoying some equivalent counterpart, for the arms he'd wrapped around his Top never grew lax in sleep. After some length of time, however, they both stirred, stretching muscles too long unmoving.

With a deep sigh, Illya slowly lifted the mask from his eyes, blinking up dazedly at Napoleon with a look so beguiling that he felt his heart falter.

"Napasha," he said. "That was... like nothing anyone has ever done with me, like nothing I ever imagined..."

Napoleon smiled, feeling a more profound contentment than he had words to express. "It was my pleasure and honor," he said, tenderly brushing the strands of golden hair out of Illya's eyes. "Will you stay the rest of the night?"

Illya gave a faint chuckle. "I can barely imagine moving from this bed, much less your flat," he said. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me till morning."

"Well, I suppose I have no one to blame but myself," said Napoleon, letting a little smugness show in his voice. He understood Illya's reluctance to leave the bed, but as Top and host he had a few responsibilities still, and so forced himself up. He put away the sling, and other toys and supplies, then fetched a moist cloth from the washroom to clean Illya up. When all that was done he settled Illya under the covers and then joined him, spooning up behind him with a contented sigh.

Napoleon was deliciously exhausted, spent and as comfortable as he could ever remember being, but in his last few moments of wakefulness he was revisited by an impression, an awareness of something new and indelible between them. Napoleon knew its name by now, but shied away from recognizing it, even in his own thoughts. It was dangerous; Napoleon knew this without a doubt, but knew that when it asserted itself again —and it most definitely would— he would not be able to deny it.



Neither one of them had anywhere to be the next day, but they both woke on their own at a relatively early hour. Ever the gentleman, Napoleon let Illya use the shower first while he went to make coffee and breakfast. The coffee was ready and bacon frying away when Illya appeared in the kitchen, hair damp and tousled, wearing his jeans from yesterday and one of Napoleon's plain white t shirts. He looked, in Napoleon's estimation, positively edible, but he knew better than to make any assumptions. Illya had subbed for him last night, but it was a new day and they had negotiated nothing about what would happen after.

They made small talk over coffee, and then Illya wolfed down his portion of the eggs, bacon and toast Napoleon cooked with his usual gusto, though he did not fail to complement Napoleon on his cooking skills and hostly attributes. It was as they were enjoying their third cups of coffee that Napoleon finally raised the subject they'd both been avoiding all morning.

"So," he began, staring into his coffee cup. "This is where I usually cut my subs loose... which most of them know is coming. I don't generally do long term relationships, as you and everyone else in UNCLE knows..." He glanced up to see Illya's confirming smirk, encouraging him to continue.

"But, um... I hope you know, last night was..." He trailed off, words failing him.

"Last night was something else entirely," Illya finished for him and Napoleon nodded in profound relief. At least they were on the same page, even if neither of them knew which book it was from.

"Illya, I would... I would be honored to Top you again, any time you felt like it, which is not something my subs usually hear me say," Napoleon explained. "But... maybe... well, I don't know how it is with you at all, and I don't want to make any missteps here."

"Nor do I," Illya replied promptly, and once again Napoleon knew they were on the same page. Their relationship might be new, but already they both knew how important it was. "And how it is with me is that I tend to... migrate back and forth between the two dynamics over a period of weeks or months. It varies, and while sometimes a switch can be brought about by the sort of mission I've just been on, at other times my mood seems to simply change. It may be the phase of the moon for all I know."

"So..." Napoleon began hesitantly, "you might be open to something...?"

"In the near future? Yes, quite possibly," Illya finished for him. "And what I said last night in jest, it is true also. It will not matter what 'mood' I am in at the moment, if you ever wish me to Top you again, you need only ask."

"Oh, I will," Napoleon said with a smile. "But you should know, it's not an urge I have all that often."

"I will not require reciprocity," Illya said with a sly smile. Then his expression darkened and he sighed. "If we do see... more of each other, however, we will have to be careful. I am still watched from time to time, lest I conspire to run off with some decadent Western Top. It seems I'm still a valuable State Asset."

"Luckily, we both happen to be secret agents," Napoleon said, hoping to lighten Illya's bitter tone. "Being careful is at the top of our skill sets. And your masters in Moscow have nothing to worry about from me. I'm... not really the collaring type."

"Really?" Illya seemed honestly surprised, but then Napoleon's slightly blue-blood upbringing were as well known around UNCLE as his predatory dating habits. "Surely your family will eventually expect..."

"They're not particularly happy about it," Napoleon said,"but they know why, so they don't press the issue." Napoleon gave a chagrined sigh then, for it was clearly unfair not to tell Illya the rest, for all that he was very carefully not asking.

"There was someone once, a young man in my unit when I was in Korea," Napoleon explained. "I'd have given him a collar, all my worldly goods, anything he asked for. I'd have given my life for his... but that ended up going the other way around instead."

Illya said nothing, but laid his hand over Napoleon's where it lay on the table. "They tell me it happens sometimes," Napoleon continued, "that once a Top has really committed himself to a sub, and that sub dies... any desire to collar again dies too. Anyhow," he said after a pause. "That's why... And besides, I don't see you being much the collar wearing type either, to be honest. I'd like to see you free of this one, some day." He reached up to touch the black leather circling Illya's neck with a frown.

"Well, you're not wrong on that count," Illya admitted with a sigh. "Anyone who offered me a collar would only be proving that they really have no idea who I am. And I wouldn't mind being shut of this one," Illya flicked at his Soviet collar disdainfully, "but they will never make it easy. They may not allow it at all."

"That's where you need to think like an American, partner mine," Napoleon said, taking up Illya's hand boldly. "If it needs to happen, we'll find a way to make it happen." Illya gave a wistful smile and shook his head.

"But that is not what makes us good partners, Napoleon," he said. "You are the one who thinks like an optimistic American, while I think like pessimistic Slav. We balance each other."

"Yeah, we do, don't we," Napoleon said, leaning back in his chair. "In more ways than one."

"To balance," Illya said, lifting his coffee cup in a toast.

"To balance," Napoleon repeated, clinking his cup against Illya's, and thinking that this was a safe way to say it, but that what they had was much, much more than that.



A week later they were back at work, though Illya still had another week of physical therapy for his feet. Since they'd mostly been reading UNCLE personnel reports (though Napoleon wasn't sure why Waverly had explicitly assigned this task to the both of them) Illya had made himself his own space in Napoleon's office and his quiet companionship had made the task just that much less onerous. Today they had a meeting with the boss, most likely to discuss what they had read in those reports, but Napoleon wasn't actually sure what they were meant to be looking for.

There was no one else in the office when they entered, and no files on the conference table; only a small box. There were a clutch of case files in Master Waverly's hand as he entered the room, however, and he set them on the table next to the box as he sat.

"I must say," he began without preamble. "It still gives me great satisfaction to be proven right on certain matters. Those old fossils in Berlin won't have a leg to stand on when they read these mission reports of yours." Here he tapped the handful of files which he'd laid on the table beside him. "The both of you are to be commended, not only for your professional conduct in accomplishing your mission, but for your... acclimating to each others styles, and forming a most effective working relationship."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances, half mystified, half cautiously pleased. "Thank you, sir," Napoleon said. "I think I speak for both of us when I say how well our respective skill sets seem to compliment each other. I believe we both look forward to serving UNCLE as a team again in the future."

"Precisely what I have called you here to talk about, or at least one of the things," Waverly confirmed with a nod. "The bean counters in Section VII have recently released a study which proves, fairly unequivocally, that agents present a greater return on investment if they work in teams and partnerships than if they work on their own. To that end we will be instituting a new policy that all Section II agents and the more senior of the Section III agents are to be assigned permanent partners or teammates. You, Mr Solo, and you, Mr Kuryakin, are to be our flagship pair."

Napoleon straightened in his chair, naturally leery of being made a flagship anything, but finding no objection at all to being permanently partnered with Illya. Illya, however, was frowning, seemingly in confusion.

"Sir," he began, pausing to phrase his question diplomatically, "while I've no objection at all to working with Mr Solo on a permanent basis, I'm still not rated as a field agent, and there are those who will most certainly raise objections."

"Yes, well, there is one very simple solution to that problem," Master Waverly said, moving to open the little box on the table beside him. "May I have your badge please, Mr Kuryakin?"

Eyebrows lifted in puzzlement, Illya detached the Section VIII badge from his lapel and handed it across to his boss. Napoleon (and Illya) knew what had to be coming, given Waverly's previous statements, but Napoleon still felt his eyes widen in astonishment when Waverly lifted out the new, yellow badge, bearing the number 2. Waverly and Illya both stood so that the Section 1 head could pin the badge on his new Section II number 2 and Napoleon felt his astonishment transform into pride and pleasure.

"Your paperwork will take another day or so to process," Waverly said, "but as of now you may consider yourself transferred out of Section VIII and officially assigned to Section II, as a fully qualified field agent. Congratulations, Agent Kuryakin."

"I... I am honored, sir," Illya said after a speechless moment. "May I infer, then, that I am the first submissive to be made a field agent in UNCLE?"

"You are," Waverly confirmed, "but it is my intention that you should be the first of many, starting immediately. This brings us to my second agenda item. The personnel files I've asked you to review are all of submissives working in other sections of UNCLE who may qualify to be transferred to Section III or possibly even Section II. They'll have to be partnered, of course, as per our other new policy, and it's probably best if they're partnered with Tops. I'd like you two to determine who among those whose files you've been reviewing should be transferred, and who they might best be partnered or teamed with."

The rest of the meeting was more or less just crossing 't's and dotting 'i's, and Napoleon could practically see Illya's head spinning throughout. They left Waverly's office with Napoleon grinning like a kid at Christmas and Illya looking like he'd been hit over the head with a two-by-four. His stunned look faded a bit when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror inside the elevator, fingering the badge as if in a dream.

"It's the real thing, partner mine," Napoleon said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You earned it, ten times over."

"Well, of course I did," Illya said as the elevator stopped and he turned to exit, schooling his face into something more dignified. "Master Waverly is still taking some risk by making a submissive a full field agent. Not everyone will take it so well."

"It's a calculated risk, perhaps, but when have you known Master Waverly to take unfounded risks?" Napoleon pointed out. "You and I both know a dozen or more submissives who can and should be made field agents... like that British fellow, what's his name... Shale?"

"Mark Slate," Illya answered with a smile. "And he's already been working with a Dom from Section II, an excellent agent named..."

"April Dancer," Napoleon put in as he opened the door to his... their office. "I'd definitely put them at the top of the list. You know," he paused, looking around the small space, "I bet we can put in for a bigger office, now that it's the two of us."

Illya nodded. "I suspect you're right... but I hope they let me keep my lab," he said. "I'd really prefer to continue some of my scientific work for UNCLE."

"This is all okay, isn't it?" Napoleon asked, suddenly full of doubts. "I mean, nobody asked you if you wanted to be a field agent..."

"I don't imagine anybody asked you if you wanted a promotion, either," Illya replied with a smirk. "Of course it is okay, Napoleon. It is a bit of a shock, I will admit, but a good shock... a very good shock."

"Oh good," Napoleon said with evident relief, and then, because the office door was closed, he drew his partner into his arms, holding him close. "I am so proud, and so happy, my Illyushka," he said quietly. "And I would very much like to show you just how much after dinner at my place tonight."

"Hmm," Illya said, while returning the embrace with warmth and a frisson of desire. "I believe that I would be quite receptive to such a demonstration. Shall we begin the evening with takeout from the Greek deli on 43rd St?"

"Whatever you like, partner mine," Napoleon said with utter contentment and anticipation. "Whatever your heart desires, I'm more than happy to provide."

And truer words, Napoleon Solo thought, his sometime sub and sometime Top and partner in all things in his arms, had never been spoken.

~THE END~

~*~

41058 wds

*****

There is a fairly well formed outline for a sequel simmering away in my fevered brain, but some of the details need to mature and firm up a bit. I may be ready to start writing on it around September, or Christmas at the latest. It does have a title, however, so stay tuned for:

"The Theremin's Protege Affair"

***

Edit: A re-edited and slightly spiffed up version of this whole fic can now be found on my AO3 archive, HERE

Comments

( 9 comments — Leave a comment )
spikesgirl58
Jul. 2nd, 2013 11:57 am (UTC)
Brava! This is a fabulous ending... or is that a beginning. I do so hope to see more of this in the future. It was a great (and mind opening (and blowing) ride from start to finish. Thank you so much!
tdancinghands
Jul. 2nd, 2013 06:27 pm (UTC)
And thank you for the lovely comment!
jkkitty
Jul. 2nd, 2013 04:05 pm (UTC)
A sequel, I'm waiting! Great fic and the ride was wild but wonderful
tdancinghands
Jul. 2nd, 2013 06:27 pm (UTC)
Glad you enjoyed!
alynwa
Jul. 2nd, 2013 08:02 pm (UTC)
Sigh. I am corrupted. I need more, many more stories about Sometime Top and Sometime Sub Napoleon and Illya. Must I wait until Christmas???
sheilasmiles
Jul. 2nd, 2013 08:46 pm (UTC)
Sexy and mind blowing! I have enjoyed this from start to finish.Thank you.
mayamaia
Jul. 2nd, 2013 10:29 pm (UTC)
Thank you!
rachaeljurassic
Jul. 7th, 2013 11:06 pm (UTC)
Wow, I go away for a bit and when I get back this is waiting for me. What a nice surprise!

A great read and ending. So many possibilities for stories...and hot sex obviously. ;-)
pippa2233
Aug. 14th, 2013 12:37 am (UTC)
I'm sorry I was so slow finishing this. I really enjoyed it. The AU was interesting and the plot really hung together, nice in a good piece of Slash. Thanks
( 9 comments — Leave a comment )