Music to My Ears
It had been one of those weeks, too long by half, too stressful by anyone's account and more than a normal man could handle.
Right now, there was only one person Napoleon was interested in, his partner, his friend, his lover. Illya had been in Japan for three weeks, three long, frustrating weeks. In the past, these extended assignments had been an inconvenience or an annoyance. Now the issue was very different, now he and Illya were in a committed relationship and Napoleon was feeling the burn in the most unpleasant of ways. He could already feel Illya's skin, soft and warm, thrumming with energy and desire, Illya's taste, his smell, his muscles taut beneath his hands.
He reached for the doorknob and wondered what he'd find on the other side. Nothing could have surprised him more than nothing. Illya wasn't there.
"What the hell?" Napoleon swore out loud.
Napoleon walked into the bedroom and smiled at the suitcase on the bed, Illya had been here... no wait, it was Napoleon's suitcase. On top of a dress shirt was a plastic egg. He opened it up carefully, just in case it was a gift from THRUSH instead. Inside was a slip of paper.
Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea
And we breathe in the cool salty air
You turn to me with a kiss in your eyes
And my heart feels a thrill beyond compare.*
That and an address, a hotel they knew. If Illya wanted to play a game, who was he to refuse?
He approached the desk clerk and smiled. "Do you have a reservation for Solo?"
Napoleon hurried, no longer willing to wait a moment longer.
He got the door open and paused. The only light in the room was from the fireplace. In front of it was a basket draped with a thin veil, obscuring the contents. He moved slowly towards it. Carefully he lifted the cloth and smiled at the Easter basket. It reminded him of his childhood when the Easter Bunny would bring a basket of goodies to him and his sister, but these treats were of a more adult nature. A tube of lubricant, expensive chocolates, a can of oysters, and a couple of things Napoleon couldn't immediately identify, but the possibilities made his lips curve.
Napoleon looked over his shoulder at his partner, haloed by the firelight. Illya turned on the record player.
Some quiet evening I sit by your side
And we're lost in a world of our own
I feel the glow of your unspoken love
I'm aware of the treasure that I own *
Illya opened his arms and smiled as Napoleon slid into them.
"It's wonderful, wonderful," Illya murmured. Their lips met and words were no longer needed, wanted, or necessary. Napoleon couldn't help but wonder if any other recipients would enjoy their baskets as much as he was going to enjoy his.
*Wonderful, Wonderful—Johnny Mathis
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