coprime_recs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
coprime_recs) wrote2007-09-09 08:03 pm
coprime_recs) wrote2007-09-09 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
Man from UNCLE: Footwork by Kellie Matthews
Footwork (Napoleon/Illya | NC17 | 14,798 words): There's a suspected plot at a dance troupe, so Napoleon and Illya go undercover as an IRS agent and ballet dancer, respectively. Oh, this is one of those stories that's just nice and fun. There's an interesting plot that's a bit different from the typical spy plot, what with the little old ladies. And I like Napoleon and Illya's relationship, how comfortable they are with each other.
Excerpt:
"Hold still, let me get this off you."
Illya stilled instantly, his head coming up, turning blindly toward the sound of Napoleon's voice. Napoleon began to work at the cord that bound the pillow-case over his partner's head. After a moment he heard a sigh issue from within the folds of fabric.
"I suppose it's too much to hope that you are here to rescue me?"
"I was sort of hoping the reverse might be true," Napoleon admitted, loosening the knot and pulling the cord away, then tugging off the makeshift hood.
Static made Illya's blond hair stand out around his head like dandelion fluff until he shook his head in irritation, which made at least some of it lie down and behave itself. His gaze went first to Napoleon, a quick, intent flicker up and down, and then once he'd determined that Napoleon was in one piece, it ranged around the room, analytically cataloguing its contents. Napoleon worked at the ropes around Illya's wrists, waiting for his reaction. It wasn't long in coming. Illya let out a low whistle.
"Neveroyatnyj, did the Hermitage have a jumble sale?"
Napoleon chuckled. "I wondered something along those lines myself." He freed Illya's hands and soothed a thumb across the reddened skin left behind. Illya pulled his hands away impatiently and headed for the closest window.
Excerpt:
"Hold still, let me get this off you."
Illya stilled instantly, his head coming up, turning blindly toward the sound of Napoleon's voice. Napoleon began to work at the cord that bound the pillow-case over his partner's head. After a moment he heard a sigh issue from within the folds of fabric.
"I suppose it's too much to hope that you are here to rescue me?"
"I was sort of hoping the reverse might be true," Napoleon admitted, loosening the knot and pulling the cord away, then tugging off the makeshift hood.
Static made Illya's blond hair stand out around his head like dandelion fluff until he shook his head in irritation, which made at least some of it lie down and behave itself. His gaze went first to Napoleon, a quick, intent flicker up and down, and then once he'd determined that Napoleon was in one piece, it ranged around the room, analytically cataloguing its contents. Napoleon worked at the ropes around Illya's wrists, waiting for his reaction. It wasn't long in coming. Illya let out a low whistle.
"Neveroyatnyj, did the Hermitage have a jumble sale?"
Napoleon chuckled. "I wondered something along those lines myself." He freed Illya's hands and soothed a thumb across the reddened skin left behind. Illya pulled his hands away impatiently and headed for the closest window.