Blackout Conditions

by nickovetch

November 9th, 1965

"It was just about then that she took off her bra and I tell you, Illya, she was..."

Solo's grand tale was abruptly cut short as the lights went off around them.

"Damn fuses...they need to update the electrical in this building." Solo stood carefully and went to get a flashlight.

"Or someone just doesn't like your storytelling." Illya Kuryakin went to the living room window overlooking the city below. "Don't bother replacing the fuses, Napoleon."

"What?" Solo's disembodied voice floated down the dark hallway.

"The whole city's out. It's black everywhere."

Napoleon brought the torch into the living room. He stood shoulder to shoulder with his partner and stared into the inky cityscape. The only lights glowing at all were from car headlights and an occasional flicker of candlelight glimmering out through the apartment windows across from his. "You weren't just whistling Dixie..."


"Never mind." He glanced at Illya's profile barely visible in the ambient light from the street. "You know you're sexy in the dark..." Solo's hand drifted from the window sill to caress the front of Illya's turtleneck, slipping softly upwards to the warm skin of his neck. Illya leaned into the touch, unconcerned of any surveillance devices intruding for once.

"Napoleon." The Russian felt his way up Solo's body as well, pulling the shadowed figure into his arms and outlining the lips he knew by touch as well as sight. Napoleon's tongue flicked out and sucked his finger into the warm mouth. The older man drew the digit in deeply, suckling and laving with lips as well. Illya felt his body respond immediately, his groin tightening with desire. He rubbed against Solo, feeling the answering need in the American's body. Solo growled low in his chest and Illya sighed.

Illya turned his head and smiled softly. "Whatever shall we do in the dark?"

Solo heard the smile in his lover's teasing voice, and Illya felt the mobile lips quirk around his finger. One quick bite and Solo released him, backing off and shaking his dark head. He almost tripped over the coffee table on his way to the couch and Illya sniggered at his inelegance. Solo made a face, and realizing Illya couldn't see it, settled for throwing a pillow at the blond head glowing near the window. He grinned when he heard the, "Ooof" from across the room.

He sat on the couch and pulled out his pen. "Open Channel D." Solo tapped the communicator against his forearm as he waited to be connected.

"Channel D open, Mr. Solo." Wanda's harried voice came over the receiver.

"Wanda, my dear, is everything all right at HQ?"

The Asian agent sighed before answering. "We're running on generators here, Mr. Solo."

"What's the report?" Solo whistled softly for Illya to join him on the couch as he waited for more information.

"There's been a massive power failure somewhere in Canada, near Niagara Falls from what we've been able to tell. Nothing specific as yet."

"All right. Patch me through to Mr. Waverly, please."

A few seconds later Alexander Waverly's gruff voice came on. "Yes, Mr. Solo?" He sounded unhappy.

"Ah, yes, sir. I was checking in. Do you want Mr. Kuryakin and me to report?"

"That won't be necessary. It appears to be an electrical malfunction, not a Thrush plot for once. We'll be operating on emergency shifts here for the time being. Stay put and check in at regular intervals. I doubt you'd find an easy way here just now. We're locking down the agents in-house and keeping new personnel from entering. Standard procedure."

"Yes, sir. If you're sure you're all right."

"Quite, quite. Now I must get back to my staff at once. Good evening."

"Good evening, sir." Solo switched off the communicating device. He looked at his partner. "It seems we have been given the night off."

"Hmpf. It takes a power blackout for that to happen."

"Don't be grumpy. Let's take advantage of the situation." He scooted closer to his partner, feeling the heat of his thigh where they touched. Damn Illya for wearing black, anyway. The only thing he could see clearly was the fair head atop an indistinct black body. "It's November, and it's night. It's going to get cold..."

Illya stood, half-pulling Napoleon up with him. "I know where it will be very, very warm..." Illya crept catlike across the living room, seemingly not needing any light at all to navigate. Napoleon always suspected he was part Siamese. That would also explain the brilliant blue eyes and the way he liked his hair stroked.

Solo heard the bathroom door open and decided to follow Illya's lead. Napoleon fumbled around the couch until he found the flashlight. He went to the guest bedroom and pulled out a box of camping supplies, digging until he found an old lantern and some mantles. Another quick trip to the kitchen produced a tin of fuel.

Solo filled the lantern and tied on the mantles. He pumped air into the mix and got it lit with a grunt of satisfaction. Holding his prize ahead of him, he went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Illya's voice was muffled by the shower door and the streaming water.

The bath lit up cheerily as the lantern's yellow light filled the small space. Solo turned off his flashlight and set the lantern on the closed toilet. He watched Illya's silhouette and his heart beat faster. "Want some company?" Illya's shadow danced and flickered as the cool air began to heat with the rising steam.

Illya slid the glass door open a foot and smiled. "Always." He waited patiently as Napoleon stripped and joined him. The lantern was behind Solo and Illya enjoyed watching him undress, the incredible body black against the whitewash of the backdrop.

The water was blissfully hot and Solo luxuriated under the spray. He felt the slick body press up close to him and sighed. He turned toward his lover's arms and closed his eyes, laying his head on Illya's sturdy shoulder. "We should feel guilty."

Illya tensed just a bit. They were new lovers, and he wasn't sure about Napoleon's sensibilities. "Why?"

"People all over the city are panicking and we're in here being hedonists." Solo licked his way across Illya's collarbone.

"Mmm. Bully for us for not panicking..."

Illya pulled the sodden head up and captured Solo's lips with his own. He pushed his tongue into his open mouth and laid claim to him. Napoleon moaned and slid his arms around the slim torso, pulling him closer. Illya's hands glided across the strong shoulders aided by the slippery skin. He roamed lower, finally caressing Solo's ass, feeling the dark agent's erection pulse against his abdomen.

Illya reached for the bar of Ivory and soaped his hands. He ran them across Napoleon's chest, tickling his nipples and feeling them harden immediately. Solo groaned his approval and reached for Illya's jutting cock. He pumped the hard column gently, searching for Illya's lips again, blind with lust.

Illya returned the kiss hungrily, biting and nipping at Solo's swollen lips. He slipped his hand down Napoleon's back until he reached the cleft. Slick with soap, Illya parted his lover and thrust a single digit into him. Solo tensed and arched into the hand, rubbing himself shamelessly against Illya's body.

"Do you want more, dushka?"

"Da, da..."

Illya smiled. When Napoleon spoke Russian he was half-way gone. He slipped another finger inside and caressed the smooth channel. Napoleon cried out as he was expertly finger-fucked. He panted, straining to draw breath as he was played like a musical instrument. Solo pulled back to look into Illya's blue eyes. He started when they appeared dark in the gloom. "Your eyes are black, just like the city tonight." Seeing Illya in a different light sent a jolt straight to his groin. Napoleon groaned and dropped his gaze and began to lather Illya's hard cock. The Russian jerked like a live wire as Solo pulled the foreskin back and ran his thumb over the incredibly sensitive crown.

Hissing, he managed a, "Duvai, duvai..." before Solo resumed his assault.

"Khorosho, Illyusha?" Solo's hand never stopped moving as Illya's fingers lost their rhythm for a beat.

"Ochen, ochen khorosho, Polya."

Napoleon dropped his hand and Illya groaned at the loss. His slick body slid by as Napoleon turned and leaned against the shower's tile wall. He looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes beguiling Illya as the lust pooled in their chocolate depths. "Take me, Illyusha. Take me now."

Now the Russian's control began to crumble as he watched the strong body being offered up before him. Napoleon's sturdy back glistened with water droplets where the foggy lamplight highlighted them. His lover shivered, muscles rippling in anticipation, beckoning Illya closer. Solo's firm ass invited further exploration and Illya slipped up close behind, his cock arrowing up toward the cleft. He draped himself over the warm flesh of Solo's torso, drawing him back into a welcoming embrace.

Illya slipped his hand around to Solo's cock, hands still soapy. He pumped slowly, loving the grunts and gasps that came from his lover. He delved under the balls, rolling the heavy sacs around in his slippery palm.

"Illya..." Solo groaned in his impatience, waiting for the thick cock to enter his needy body. He'd surprised himself early in their relationship by wanting to be taken. He relished Illya as the aggressor in the bedroom. Letting someone else control him was a huge turn-on for the older man.

Solo felt Illya change angles as he slipped the head of his cock into the tight opening. He felt the wonderful pressure and the sense of fullness overcome him, and he pressed his cheek against the tile as he was finally taken. "Yesss."

Illya didn't penetrate further, and Solo turned to look at him, puzzled. "Do you want me, Polya?"

"Ahh, Illya, you have to ask at a time like this?" Solo was having trouble forming words, all his cognitive functions washing away with the water sluicing off his body.

Illya leaned into the tight shoulder and whispered in his ear softly. "Then show me."

Solo groaned, feeling the desire all the way down to his toes. He reached his arms around Illya's slim hips, pulling him in and forcing the thick shaft deeper. Both men cried out, their voices ringing in the inky enclosure.

Illya thrust the rest of the way, forcing himself into the hot flesh as far as he could go, his balls snugging against Solo's ass. He licked along Napoleon's neck before he pulled out, sliding back in slowly, driving Solo wild with impatience.

Solo bucked his hips against every thrust, trying to speed his lover along. Illya would not be rushed. He wanted Napoleon his way; slowly, leisurely, intimately.

"Easy, lyubov. Easy." He tugged on Solo's balls, trying to slow his need for release. His lover mewled in response, eager to be taken hard.

Illya relented and began a steady rhythm, feeling Napoleon's body grasp at him and then release, grasp and release until he was nearly mad with the joy of it.

Solo smiled as he felt the change, knowing his body was giving pleasure as well as receiving, and Illya's hand was doing wondrous things to him. He knew he couldn't stand against much more.

"Illyusha, please. Pazhalyusta."

Kuryakin sped up his rhythm, driving harder and deeper into Solo. He pulled strongly on Solo's cock, feeling the balls draw up and prime for release. Illya spasmed, crying out, "Napoleon!" as his shaft expanded and his orgasm shot out of his body, filling Napoleon with jets of hot come. He stiffened, and leaned his head against Solo's neck until the spurts subsided.

Solo heard his lover cry out and concentrated on the feel of him coming deeply inside his body. He loved the results; the loss of control Illya trusted him with, the intimacy of sharing their bodies this way. As the spurts hit him he cried out as well, Illya's hand milking an incredible orgasm from his hyper-charged body. His shaft twitched, his semen sprayed out against the wet tile, stream after stream. Solo sagged with the copious release.

Napoleon's hands held him up as he leaned heavily on the shower wall. He watched the shadow cast from their joined bodies twitch against the tile with every breath. Illya was beginning to stir against him, but Solo was holding them both up for now. A moment later Illya's softened cock slipped out of him and he sighed with regret.

Illya followed Solo's rapt gaze and smiled against his back at the picture the lantern threw against the wall. The strong hands turned him around and pulled him into a hug. Illya's firm lips found him again and they kissed gently.

Kuryakin cleaned them both and turned off the spray. He groped for a towel in the semi-darkness and wrapped Solo's hips in it. He used another to dry himself and then stepped out onto the rug. The bath was steamy and the lantern glowed as if in a fog.

Once the door was opened, the warmth evaporated. The cold air assaulted their damp skin and both shivered. Illya led Napoleon into the bedroom and they snuggled into the blankets.

Napoleon sighed in contentment as Illya gathered him against his chest. "Damned inconvenient, this blackout."

Illya chuckled. "Oh, I don't know, Napoleon. We are spies. We seem to do our best work in the dark."

"Then let's hope for some overtime," Solo said as he kissed the smiling lips again and again.

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