He shoots another guard in between the eyes, checking his surroundings once again before holstering his handgun. “All clear,” he says, putting his back towards Napoleon.
“Good work,” Napoleon says – and he sniffs the air. Illya freezes, anticipating. “Do you smell that -”
“No,” Illya says, walking away from Napoleon, down the corridor, towards a room he briefly recalled had a somewhat passable lock. The heat has increased in intensity now, from smoldering embers to a fireplace’s warmth, and Illya has no illusions that it will stop there. He can feel something wet seeping its way down towards his thighs; he walks faster.
Source: two guys fuck maybe, by sweetsinnerchild – The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015) [Archive of Our Own]
What can I say? I have a soft spot for omega!Illya – probably because his personality makes the kind of woobification I dislike in other a/b/o fics kind of impossible. 