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crack_van2007-01-04 02:57 pm
toomuchfandom.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-01-04 02:57 pm
Entry tags:
Age cannot sully by Ashleigh Anpilova (PG)
Fandom: MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Illya Kuryakin / Napoleon Solo
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nakeisha
Author Website: Partners Forever
Why this must be read:
Like I said before, I love Illya and Napoleon as old men. I have no real idea why, but maybe it's because it's different, 9 out of 10 times without a case, but with fond memories.
Age cannot sully is an almost lyrical fic which has Napoleon and Illya in their seventies, musing about each other's hair, and not a moment straying out of character.
nakeisha has always a good balance between certain elements used in her fic and no matter what fic you read it's always a pleasure.
Excerpt:
There were one or two occasions when I did get to see him before he plastered the stuff all over his hair. And it looked beautiful. Walnut brown, with hints of mahogany hiding beneath the surface; neither absolutely straight nor obviously wavy; heavy and soft - although the softness I could not truly attest to until the night I found myself in his arms in his bed. That is a night I shall never forget, not just because it was the first time I was able to deliberately touch, nay caress, his hair. I had from time to time during our antics in the field, or when reaching around him, found my fingers making fleeting contact with his hair, but I had never before deliberately allowed myself to touch it. The other reason I shall never forget that night is simply because, as people always say, one never forgets one’s first lovemaking experience.
However, still I felt unable to mention the oil. I suppose I was still a little almost in awe of the man. Not that I have ever told that to him, nor would I ever admit it to anyone - nevertheless I believe he has always known. Yet to his credit he never used his knowledge against me, nor did he ever take advantage of it, or at least not in any way other than close and long-standing partners do take advantage of one another. So I put up with the sliminess on my fingers, and resisted the urge to wipe them immediately after I had touched his head. The texture reminded me far too much of gun-oil, and I spent too many hours of my life with that substance on my fingers to wish to experience it any longer, especially under such intimate conditions.
I put up with it until the night we found ourselves in my apartment ‘making out’, as Napoleon told me, on my somewhat battered sofa, before he swept - or rather dragged - me off to my bedroom. I had few possessions in those days, I have relatively few now compared to my partner, and although normally I subscribed to my grandmother’s ‘one on, one in the wash, one in the drawer’, philosophy, too many back-to-back assignments had played havoc with my laundry, and I had no ‘one in the drawer.’ Thus, the following morning, when I awoke to both pillowcases smeared with that annoying substance, I, without thinking, told Napoleon in no uncertain terms just what I thought of it. He told me later that I lectured him, as apparently I did when particularly enthusiastic or irritated by a subject, for twenty minutes, and never repeated myself - not even once.
Age cannot sully
Pairing: Illya Kuryakin / Napoleon Solo
Author on LJ:
nakeishaAuthor Website: Partners Forever
Why this must be read:
Like I said before, I love Illya and Napoleon as old men. I have no real idea why, but maybe it's because it's different, 9 out of 10 times without a case, but with fond memories.
Age cannot sully is an almost lyrical fic which has Napoleon and Illya in their seventies, musing about each other's hair, and not a moment straying out of character.
nakeisha has always a good balance between certain elements used in her fic and no matter what fic you read it's always a pleasure.Excerpt:
There were one or two occasions when I did get to see him before he plastered the stuff all over his hair. And it looked beautiful. Walnut brown, with hints of mahogany hiding beneath the surface; neither absolutely straight nor obviously wavy; heavy and soft - although the softness I could not truly attest to until the night I found myself in his arms in his bed. That is a night I shall never forget, not just because it was the first time I was able to deliberately touch, nay caress, his hair. I had from time to time during our antics in the field, or when reaching around him, found my fingers making fleeting contact with his hair, but I had never before deliberately allowed myself to touch it. The other reason I shall never forget that night is simply because, as people always say, one never forgets one’s first lovemaking experience.
However, still I felt unable to mention the oil. I suppose I was still a little almost in awe of the man. Not that I have ever told that to him, nor would I ever admit it to anyone - nevertheless I believe he has always known. Yet to his credit he never used his knowledge against me, nor did he ever take advantage of it, or at least not in any way other than close and long-standing partners do take advantage of one another. So I put up with the sliminess on my fingers, and resisted the urge to wipe them immediately after I had touched his head. The texture reminded me far too much of gun-oil, and I spent too many hours of my life with that substance on my fingers to wish to experience it any longer, especially under such intimate conditions.
I put up with it until the night we found ourselves in my apartment ‘making out’, as Napoleon told me, on my somewhat battered sofa, before he swept - or rather dragged - me off to my bedroom. I had few possessions in those days, I have relatively few now compared to my partner, and although normally I subscribed to my grandmother’s ‘one on, one in the wash, one in the drawer’, philosophy, too many back-to-back assignments had played havoc with my laundry, and I had no ‘one in the drawer.’ Thus, the following morning, when I awoke to both pillowcases smeared with that annoying substance, I, without thinking, told Napoleon in no uncertain terms just what I thought of it. He told me later that I lectured him, as apparently I did when particularly enthusiastic or irritated by a subject, for twenty minutes, and never repeated myself - not even once.
Age cannot sully
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Besides - I like stories with the boys older and together :)
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I like older guys stories too.