[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu
link to part one:http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/90365.html
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Serena went first, spinning him around and shoving his back hard against the wall that was eerily bathed in red. She found that light very erotic as she ran her hands up and down along Napolen's body while she stood in front of him in a tight red dress that made her blend in with their surroundings.

“Hey no cheating,” Julie warned.

“There was no rule against it,” Serena insisted.

“Fine, fine...get on with it darling, I’m anxious for my turn.” Angelique called out as she puffed on a cigarette.




Serena drove her lips onto him, and then opened her mouth, enveloping his. Napoleon tried wrapping his arms around her in response but she pushed them away, “No just me, I want you subservient to my lips,” she whispered, finally breaking contact with him after her long, wet kiss.

“Well?” She demanded with a chilly smile.

“I’ll withhold my judgement until all the results are in.” He grinned at her.

Julie stepped forward, gazing straight into his eyes. Napoleon looked her up and down, as she stood there in front of him in a tight black mini dress. It was much more conservative than the glittering mod outfit he’d seen her wearing last year and suited her, showing off her long legs much better.

“So all your parts are what they should be?” He whispered to her.

“Absolutely, and working quite nicely I might add,” she whispered back.

“Good, that’s good. You really do look nice you know?”

“Why the change in your nasty attitude?”

“You’re different, and I mean not just in looks.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Just shut up and kiss me will you, and let’s get this over with.” There was an edge to her voice, as she obviously no longer felt the attraction for him she had a year ago.

Napoleon gathered Julie Jones into his arms, not hesitating at all, and let her have her way with him again in a passionate kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, French kissing him oh so sensually.  He could feel her breasts against his chest; that ignited his libido, and he started to kiss her back, letting his hands automatically roam.

“Oh, so you are happy to see me after all.” Julie leaned in harder as she felt his arousal, and deftly lickied his ear with the tip of her tongue, teasing him even further.

“Hey, no no!” Serena pointed a drunken finger. “Don’t do that Napoleon, remember you’re the judgey guy.”

“Enough!” Angelique ordered Julie away.” Watch and learn, you two pitiful excuses for womanhood.”

“Napoleon darling, you know my lips so well, and what I can do with my tongue... I know what things you like me to do to other parts of your body.” She leaned one hand on the wall beside his head supporting herself as she moved her face close his, not touching him but teasing him into becoming further aroused without any physical contact, letting her words do their work.

“Do you want my lips?”

“Mmm huh,” he whispered, admittedly feeling warm and fuzzy from the drink, not to mention the kisses of the other two having added to the sexual tension he was already feeling.

“Do you want my tongue?”

“Yes.”

“What was that, you didn’t...say the magic word.”

“Yes, please?”

“And do you want the rest of me?”

At that point Napoleon growled his response, as she finally pressed her body and her lips to his. He ran his fingers along her back as he took her in his arms, letting himself become lost in the shimmering softness of her grey silk dress and the familiar body beneath it.

“All right, you had your turn!” Serena snapped, pulling Angelique away with a violent tug.

The platinum blonde turned, pulling back her hand, and slapped Serena across the face.

“How dare you touch me, you bitch.“ She hissed like a cat.” He’s mine and you know it.”

“Well mee-ow, put your claws away.” Serena countered, shoving Angelique backwards. “He wants me, my kiss was the best.”

Angelique retaliated with a push and Serena charged at her, swearing in German. “Ich Werde dich Töten dreckige Hure_I’ll kill you, dirty whore!”

“Like hell you will darling, you’re good, but not that good.” Angelique tried moving out of the way,
but Serena caught hold of her hair with both hands, and she let out a shrill scream.

“Mine was the best! No mine! Take that back! No!” They barked at each other, holding on tightly and continuing to yank each other’s hair, turning in circles.

“No they weren’t,” Julie called to them.”Mine was the best.” She turned to Napoleon looking for validation, but not really expecting any.

“I suppose you think I’m still not in the same class as them?” She snapped.

Napoleon sighed. “Honey, let’s put it this way, you’re going to break a lot of hearts in your lifetime, but Angelique had an unfair advantage over you; she and I have been... lovers for quite a while.”

“Lovers? Dammit,” she hissed at him. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed not to kidnap you again.”

“Julie, didn’t you hear what I just said to you?”

“Yes I did,” she huffed at him, crossing her arms in front of her. He temper rising slowly to the surface.

“Well, didn’t that mean anything to you after the way I acted towards you last year...I’m guessing I was a bit of a cad, but then again you did kidnap me and had me strung up like a fatted calf.”

“Yes you were a cad, and that’s why I slapped you. You were very insulting to me. So why the change of mind? You were pretty adamant about what you thought of me, or was this just a show and you were lying?”

“I did, shall we say, a little research since we last met.  You see I can learn by my mistakes and meant what I said and did.  Say, you’re not thinking of slapping me again are you?”

“I won’t, but only if I can hear you tell me I’m a real woman...and mean it. I want you to make me believe you.”

He flashed her the classic Solo grin, both charming and disarming. “After that kiss, and seeing the completed package...I would have to say, yes you are my dear, and I do mean sincerely mean that. Being a woman is not just about the body, it’s also a state of mind, and I can see that your mind and body are very much in sync. You’ve successfully joined the ranks of T.H.R.U.S.H’s femme fatales haven’t you?  So they have no idea about your...”

“No they don’t and thanks for leaving it that way.”

They sidestepped Serena and Angelique as the two passed them, continuing to wrestle with each other; their moans and howls becoming louder.

“You earned yourself a pardon for now,” Julie generously concluded, “but do me a favor and have a talk with Kuryakin. Tell him never to call me Julius again...there is no Julius, only Julie. Actually there never was a Julius, except in name only. I was always a woman, but one trapped inside a man’s body, if you can understand that?”

“I do understand, and scouts honor.” He made the three fingered salute to her. “I’ll have that talk with him, but he is pretty pig-headed at times, but that’s his pragmatic Russian personality. Now would you do me a favor as well, promise we’ll remain honored adversaries...Pax?”

Napoleon offered his hand to her. He liked this new and improved Julie Jones, and it wasn’t just her body he was thinking of. She had a more mature, confident attitude about herself; she’d definitely grown into her new body, with the pieces of her puzzle coming together in a comfortable fit.  

No doubt she still had her ambitions with Central, and tonight he saw that her goal of joining with Angelique and Serena had come to fruition, and without him being her victim in the process.

“You sure you still want to work for T.H.R.U.S.H.? We may pay less, but there are great benefits,” he grinned.

Serena  suddenly reached out, grabbing Julie’s hand as she extended it to Napoleon and dragged her down to the ground with a grunt.

The three of them wrestled, and rolled, ripping their dresses and pulling out bits of hair as several of their stiletto heels went flying into the air. Julie seeming to have a bit of an advantage over Angelique and Serena as she tussled with them. She was a little taller and in better shape, while the others were a little more zaftig... not plump but softer perhaps?

Angelique and Serena were not ones for working out at a gymnasium as they preferred the more languid female look compared to Julie, who was a bit younger and definitely more athletic.

“Ladies, ladies I don’t think this is very...lady like. You’re ruining your nice clothes and...” Napoleon was cut off in mid-sentence, as he felt a sharp pin-prick in his ankle. One of them grabbed his leg, pulling him down to the ground with them.

“Oh crap,” he moaned, wondering what he’d just been injected with.

“Thissss is all your fault Sssolo!” Serena bellowed. “You should have picked me!”

“No me!” Angelique howled.

Somehow he managed to get his hand into his pocket as his head began to spin, grabbing his lighter and pressing the button and sending out the distress signal to headquarters as the three women piled on top of him.

.

Illya was wandering the streets of the Village. He’d lost interest in listening to his beloved jazz, and was unable to sleep at home because of the heat. The sounds of the city and the smells were strong tonight as people milled on street corners unable to sleep as well. He walked up to a newsstand intending to buy the early edition when his communicator went off and ducked around behind it to hide himself.

“Kuryakin here.” He answered quickly, thinking this could only mean trouble this time of the morning.

“Williams in Security sir, we just received a signal that an agent is in distress. It’s Mr. Solo.”

“Where is he?” Illya began to walk again, picking up his pace.

“Bleeker Street.”

“I am on my way. Out.”

When Illya arrived on the scene, he was still holding his communicator using it to home in on the signal as it increased in its intensity.  He remembered this was the club where the T.H.R.U.S.H. agent Julius Jones had kidnapped his partner.  

Napoleon had once cornered him about Jones, telling him he’d done some research and suspected, though her physical body had characteristics of both genders, that perhaps she really was female.  

Illya remained skeptical, as he knew the man Julius Jones before the feminine attributes came about. He found it hard to grasp that psychologically he knew she was a woman.  Any sort of psychological discussions were things he avoided, as that field of study was abhorrent to him.  He’d been ripped apart by too many psychiatric exams in the Soviet Union to want to venture into any such conversations.  He was a realist, a pragmatist, as it were, and Julius’ or Julie’s psychological state was not something he wished to delve into. It really didn’t matter to him if Jones was a man or a woman, it only mattered that he or she was T.H.R.U.S.H. and therefore, the enemy.
.

Illya followed the now steady blip to the back alley, lit by single red light  that cast an eerie glow the length of it. He pulled a small flashlight from his coat pocket as he searched for signs of his partner.



“Napoleon?” He called out, his voice echoing off the walls. A rat scrambled in front of him across the concrete, disappearing behind a dumpster. A cat hissed and yowled, startling him as the light reflected in its nocturnal eyes.

There was a moan coming from the ground a few feet away where he located Napoleon laying face down on the ground,, his clothes were disheveled and torn, and there was the smell of alcohol.

Illya knelt beside him and rolled the American onto his back. His shirt was wide open with his face and chest covered in bloody marks.

“No,” Illya said out loud, realizing it wasn’t blood; it was lipstick. There were varying shades of red lip prints all over Napoleon’s exposed skin.

Napoleon sat up cradling his head with his hand as his partner helped support him.  

“What happened to you?”

“You don’t want to know tovarisch,” he answered groggily, “but I’m gonna have one helluva headache real soon. and by the way, I promised someone that you and me would have talk about something important,” he said hoisting himself with a grunt, leaning on Illya for support to steady himself. He pulled at his shirt, trying to tuck it into his pants... and searched in vain for his zipper. Napoleon turned to his partner with a
strange look on his face as he looked down at his trousers.

“Napoleon...why are your pants on backwards?”

Illya held up a pair of tan silk boxers, waving  them in the air. “These are yours I presume,” he smiled wickedly.

Napoleon grabbed them from Illya’s hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket.

“Just, take me home please and don’t spare the horses.”

“You are not going to tell me what happened are you?”

“Not a chance in hell, now home James...I mean, Illya.”

The Russian let out a loud whistle ,calling a taxi as they reached the front of the alleyway, and he helped his groaning partner into the back seat.


Epilogue:

Six months later Illya walked into their office at headquarters; his face greeting his partner with a look of concern as he silently handed a document to Napoleon. It was a copy of a mission report, a T.H.R.U.S.H satrap had been destroyed by Mark Slate and April Dancer in Istanbul a week ago.

“Why so grim, partner mine? Another one bites the dust...chalk one up for the good guys.”

“Napoleon look at the list of casualties, “ he said somberly. Julie Jones’ name is on it...she was identified among the dead.

Solo bit his lip and sighed....life sometimes was just not very fair was it.

Date: 2012-08-04 03:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] avery11.livejournal.com
There's nothing like a catfight, is there?! Thanks for the morning chuckle.

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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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