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crack_van2009-04-29 08:22 pm
serenaar.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-04-29 08:22 pm
Entry tags:
Silk by Cord Smithee (NC-17)
This is my last rec for the month, and I hope it's been a good month. I'd like to say a huge thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shaggirl for letting me have the keys and thanks to all the authors whose stories I recced. You have kept me up long past my bed time with your excellent stories time and again. Keep writing people!
Fandom: MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Length: 4,464 words
Author on LJ:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cordwainer_s
Author Website: It's all on Chrome and Gunmetal Madhouse
Why this must be read:
I think this is one of the last remaining stories by Cord Smithee to be recced. For me, his slash stories are amongst the best in the fandom and I keep going back to re-read them time and again. They are all usually smokin' hot and this one is no exception. Everything I love about a story is here - good characters, great banter, strong Illya and, of course bone-meltingly good sex *g*.
Every word is calculated and it feels to me that there are real people behind the words - I can actually see them saying the words as I read through the story. Napoleon goes back to Illya's apartment for the first time and takes advantage of a brief disappearance by Illya to have a snoop around. What he finds surprises him...
"You are a very bad communist, my friend."
"There are worse," Illya answered, emerging from the kitchen. He held a cobalt-blue glass bowl in one hand, a whisk in the other, looking ridiculous and delectable in a white apron strapped carelessly on over his shoulder holster, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I like things with textures." Which of course made Napoleon wonder what childhood lack or excess Illya might be making up for, but he was wise enough to know that some questions deserved no answers, nor were likely to receive them. "Make yourself at home. Make yourself a drink."
As if Napoleon needed the permission.
I wonder what his bedroom looks like. The thought came unbidden, but not unexpected. It was the one room of Illya's domain that Napoleon had never seen, and if there were one constant about spies, it was that each and every one of them suffered an insatiable curiosity--
And besides, Napoleon was becoming adept at hiding his distinctly non-fraternal feelings for his partner, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist.
"Oh, brother." Illya swore like somebody's maiden aunt, and Napoleon fo.und it irresistibly charming.
"Cut yourself?"
"No, I left the eggs in the car--" Illya stepped back into the kitchen, set the bowl aside, automatically reaching for his jacket to cover the shoulder holster even as he ducked his head through the neckstrap on the apron.
"I'll go," Napoleon offered.
"You stay," Illya said. "I have sandals. I'll only be five minutes. Keep the wine cold for me while I'm gone." A wink, and he was out the door, leaving Napoleon shaking his head in bemusement. He locked the door behind Illya and turned around to fix himself that drink--
and paused.
What the hell, he thought. When will you have a better chance than now?
shaggirl for letting me have the keys and thanks to all the authors whose stories I recced. You have kept me up long past my bed time with your excellent stories time and again. Keep writing people! Fandom: MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin
Length: 4,464 words
Author on LJ:
cordwainer_s Author Website: It's all on Chrome and Gunmetal Madhouse
Why this must be read:
I think this is one of the last remaining stories by Cord Smithee to be recced. For me, his slash stories are amongst the best in the fandom and I keep going back to re-read them time and again. They are all usually smokin' hot and this one is no exception. Everything I love about a story is here - good characters, great banter, strong Illya and, of course bone-meltingly good sex *g*.
Every word is calculated and it feels to me that there are real people behind the words - I can actually see them saying the words as I read through the story. Napoleon goes back to Illya's apartment for the first time and takes advantage of a brief disappearance by Illya to have a snoop around. What he finds surprises him...
"You are a very bad communist, my friend."
"There are worse," Illya answered, emerging from the kitchen. He held a cobalt-blue glass bowl in one hand, a whisk in the other, looking ridiculous and delectable in a white apron strapped carelessly on over his shoulder holster, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I like things with textures." Which of course made Napoleon wonder what childhood lack or excess Illya might be making up for, but he was wise enough to know that some questions deserved no answers, nor were likely to receive them. "Make yourself at home. Make yourself a drink."
As if Napoleon needed the permission.
I wonder what his bedroom looks like. The thought came unbidden, but not unexpected. It was the one room of Illya's domain that Napoleon had never seen, and if there were one constant about spies, it was that each and every one of them suffered an insatiable curiosity--
And besides, Napoleon was becoming adept at hiding his distinctly non-fraternal feelings for his partner, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist.
"Oh, brother." Illya swore like somebody's maiden aunt, and Napoleon fo.und it irresistibly charming.
"Cut yourself?"
"No, I left the eggs in the car--" Illya stepped back into the kitchen, set the bowl aside, automatically reaching for his jacket to cover the shoulder holster even as he ducked his head through the neckstrap on the apron.
"I'll go," Napoleon offered.
"You stay," Illya said. "I have sandals. I'll only be five minutes. Keep the wine cold for me while I'm gone." A wink, and he was out the door, leaving Napoleon shaking his head in bemusement. He locked the door behind Illya and turned around to fix himself that drink--
and paused.
What the hell, he thought. When will you have a better chance than now?
The description of Illya's apartment lets you into his world (which you never see on the show sadly) and expands his character. As usual with Cord's stories, there is no fluff - just two alpha males dancing with danger pretending to ignore the sparks that are so obviously between them. This story deals with what happens once they can't ignore the attraction anymore. And sparks do indeed fly, Cord Smithee style *g*. Illya is on top form here - strong, confident and sexy.
This is my parting gift to you all - read it and it will make your toes curl. Then read it again...and again...and again! *g*
Silk