crack_van | Friendly Fire by Clare Chew (NC-17)

Fandom: MAN FROM UNCLE
Pairing: Napoleon/Illya, plus a Napoleon/Illya/OFC threesome
Author on LJ:

lyrebird
Author Website: lyrebird*mound

Why This Must be Read: Because the characterizations are razor-sharp, the tension between Napoleon and Illya is strung tight as a wire, the dialogue is multi-layered and the sex absolutely sizzles.

This story builds from conflict created within an episode. In "Thrush Roulette", Illya was temporarily 'programmed' via devious psychological conditioning to kill Napoleon. The episode pretends there's no emotional fallout from this conditioning; Clare knows better. Although having seen the episode would probably enhance a reader's understanding of the initial situation, Part One of the story gives you all the backstory you need to understand what's going on between the partners.

Like many good MfU stories, this one deals with issues of trust. Illya comes to mistrust himself, and Napoleon sets out to remind Illya of his own trustworthiness. Miscommunication comes into play and a plot that involves flying pigs (really!) is interwoven with an examination of the complex give and take of their partnership. It makes for a very entertaining and often edge-of-the-seat read. Mind the 'slippery when wet' signage; I was reduced to puddles of melted goo at regular intervals.

Outside, they stopped behind some palms to watch. One of the sliding roof panels fell in with a boom. The rest of the building shook but remained standing.

Illya grinned at him, the devilish smile he saved for a success in the field.

Napoleon couldn't help but smile back. "We did it."

"We did." Illya ran a hand uncaringly through his mop of grease-tinted hair.

The adrenaline rush of narrowly averting disaster buzzed through Napoleon. It demanded an outlet. He reached out and seized Illya in a bear hug, uncaring of the ache in his side, the burns on his hands. They were here; they were alive. That was all that mattered. Illya stiffened, then suddenly returned the embrace, his arms gripping Napoleon tight.

Napoleon pressed his mouth against Illya's hair, his cheek, his lips. He smelled of petroleum, of grease, but it didn't matter. Normally fastidious to a fault, he no longer cared. Illya was all that mattered.

Illya kissed him back, and reckless joy transmuted into passion. His tongue flicked against Napoleon's, tickling and taunting. Napoleon moved a hand up Illya's chest to seize the back of his head, and hold him still. Illya shuddered beneath him, and his hands moved up to clutch Napoleon's neck. As Illya's fingers caught at the short strands of his nape, Napoleon swallowed. There was a ball of happiness within his chest, expanding out to encompass him in its warmth.

"Illya," he whispered against the soft lips. "Illya, I-"

Illya smothered the sound with his mouth, suddenly brutal. He arched forward, the heat from his body searing Napoleon. It took him by surprise, but Napoleon knew how to respond. He reached down Illya's back, over the sweat-damp shirt to his trousers, and encased the firm butt with both palms. The erection nudged his own, and Napoleon made a sound of satisfaction deep in his throat.

A hand brushed along his side over the lacerations, but the brief flare of pain only served to give the hunger a keener, sharper edge. One of Illya's hands snaked between their bodies, molded his erection, making him gasp.

Illya began to nip at the corded flesh of his neck. "Is this what you need?" His warm breath kindled nerve endings along Napoleon's spine.

Napoleon's hands fumbled for Illya's fly. Illya squirmed at his touch, and Napoleon groaned softly as Illya's hand tightened over his cloth-covered erection.

Illya lifted his head, and looked straight into Napoleon's eyes. In the dark, his eyes glittered. "Tell me what you need."

It was like being slapped across the face. The same question Illya had trapped him with, while sucking him off and calmly cataloguing his reactions.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do!

Friendly Fire