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keelywolfeSimple
By Keelywolfe
Rated: NC-17
(Illya/Napoleon)
~~*~~
Illya was, without question, one of the most flexible people he knew. Tangled into a net of limbs and linens, he gripped the sheets beneath him and accepted any new angle, shifting to meet every thrust without a single protest.
Which wasn't to say he wasn't demanding.
"There, there, there!" Illya gasped, his legs suddenly brutal around Napoleon's waist as he tried to force his partner to repeat the movement, a slow, liquid roll of his hips as he pushed back inside. Napoleon let his fingertips slide gently over the head of Illya's cock, laughing softly at the demanding push upward against his hand.
This was the best way to have sex, without any of the complications of dating countless women, juggling blondes and brunettes and redheads in an exhausting balancing act. With Illya, it was merely a matter of taking what was offered, when it was offered. No sugary coating shining over it and that suited them both just fine. Lust was as pure and clean as a flame, utterly simple and honest.
Illya arched beneath him insistently, his body clenching tightly and dragging a gasp from Napoleon who couldn't help but follow Illya's unspoken lead, flexing his hips and thrusting agonizingly deep. A soft hiss of perhaps pain leaked from between Illya's teeth but there was no room for concern or apology, not with Illya squirming beneath him, writhing like he was made for this, making deep, sweet sounds deep in his throat.
Simple, uncomplicated, just a twist on vanilla ice cream-type sex, and Illya was sweating and cursing and, oh, so lovely.
Just simple.
Sometimes he could hate Illya for showing him this and not allowing him to keep it.
His vision blurred with sweat, Napoleon finally put his greater weight to some use and pinned Illya beneath him, giving him the fierceness that he was snarling for in hard, deep lunges. It was easy to ignore the short nails digging into his shoulders when he was lost to the feel of Illya surrounding him, keening and yowling, and Jesus, who could have guessed that fucking the rumored 'iceman' would be like trying to hold a rabid cat?
He swore he could feel it on the inside when Illya came, dizziness swimming behind his eyes as he quickly followed and nothing was quite as simple as an orgasm. One pure burst of hot pleasure surrounded by wordless cries and then it was over, leaving nothing but the sticky aftermath.
Napoleon didn't realize he was biting his lip until Illya touched it softly, soothing the bruised skin. Something about the sweat gleaming on his cheeks, the curve of his mouth with only a suggestion of a smile made Napoleon want to kiss him and he did, sighing in weary pleasure when Illya allowed it.
In a moment, Illya would rise, slip back into his clothes and leave without so much as a kiss goodbye. He had never asked to stay the night, and Napoleon never offered.
Just simple, uncomplicated sex, nothing more. Simple.
He wondered how many times he'd have to tell that to himself before he believed it.
-finis-
By Keelywolfe
Rated: NC-17
(Illya/Napoleon)
~~*~~
Illya was, without question, one of the most flexible people he knew. Tangled into a net of limbs and linens, he gripped the sheets beneath him and accepted any new angle, shifting to meet every thrust without a single protest.
Which wasn't to say he wasn't demanding.
"There, there, there!" Illya gasped, his legs suddenly brutal around Napoleon's waist as he tried to force his partner to repeat the movement, a slow, liquid roll of his hips as he pushed back inside. Napoleon let his fingertips slide gently over the head of Illya's cock, laughing softly at the demanding push upward against his hand.
This was the best way to have sex, without any of the complications of dating countless women, juggling blondes and brunettes and redheads in an exhausting balancing act. With Illya, it was merely a matter of taking what was offered, when it was offered. No sugary coating shining over it and that suited them both just fine. Lust was as pure and clean as a flame, utterly simple and honest.
Illya arched beneath him insistently, his body clenching tightly and dragging a gasp from Napoleon who couldn't help but follow Illya's unspoken lead, flexing his hips and thrusting agonizingly deep. A soft hiss of perhaps pain leaked from between Illya's teeth but there was no room for concern or apology, not with Illya squirming beneath him, writhing like he was made for this, making deep, sweet sounds deep in his throat.
Simple, uncomplicated, just a twist on vanilla ice cream-type sex, and Illya was sweating and cursing and, oh, so lovely.
Just simple.
Sometimes he could hate Illya for showing him this and not allowing him to keep it.
His vision blurred with sweat, Napoleon finally put his greater weight to some use and pinned Illya beneath him, giving him the fierceness that he was snarling for in hard, deep lunges. It was easy to ignore the short nails digging into his shoulders when he was lost to the feel of Illya surrounding him, keening and yowling, and Jesus, who could have guessed that fucking the rumored 'iceman' would be like trying to hold a rabid cat?
He swore he could feel it on the inside when Illya came, dizziness swimming behind his eyes as he quickly followed and nothing was quite as simple as an orgasm. One pure burst of hot pleasure surrounded by wordless cries and then it was over, leaving nothing but the sticky aftermath.
Napoleon didn't realize he was biting his lip until Illya touched it softly, soothing the bruised skin. Something about the sweat gleaming on his cheeks, the curve of his mouth with only a suggestion of a smile made Napoleon want to kiss him and he did, sighing in weary pleasure when Illya allowed it.
In a moment, Illya would rise, slip back into his clothes and leave without so much as a kiss goodbye. He had never asked to stay the night, and Napoleon never offered.
Just simple, uncomplicated sex, nothing more. Simple.
He wondered how many times he'd have to tell that to himself before he believed it.
-finis-
