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Alec hates briefings. They're boring. Men who never leave the MI6 corridors shuffling their papers and maps, trying to explain in what they think is crystal-clear detail what Alec already knows. The nature of a multitasking mind, though, means Alec can listen to the boring experts and still watch James, mentally checking off the list of things he wants to do when they get back to the flat. Kiss. Strip. Fuck.
He smiles, though, and responds promptly when M asks if he's paying attention. "Yes, sir," he says, quickly recounting the mission. "James and I are going to Rome, where we'll meet with a Vatican operative who has information on a German industrialist who thinks himself the heir to the Third Reich."
"Very good, 006," M responds, shooting a dark little glare at James, who's been paying even less attention than Alec and has been even worse at disguising it. If it weren't for James's memory, his command of German, and his history of successful operations, M would probably enjoy nothing more than tossing James out on his arse.
But then, one wonders, where would James be without Alec at his side? And the answer's not worth contemplating.
"Q Branch," M snaps out, standing up and watching James and Alec take to their feet. "Be careful, both of you."
"Ah, M, when are we ever less than careful?" James asks, glancing over at Alec with a double-edged smile curving over his lips.
I don't want to know what that means, M decides, shooing both operatives out of his office.
Alec works harder to hold in the smirk at M's obvious glare, and he manages to get into the hallway before he's swatting James's shoulder. "When are we ever less than careful?" he echoes sarcastically. "You want an itemized list, 007?"
He passes his hand over the elevator pad and motions James in through the opening door. "After you, my esteemed colleague. Can't keep Q waiting."
The elevator's got a camera installed in it, of course. But there's one particular spot just underneath the security camera, in the corner, where not everything is visible to the men in security. There's just enough room for James to push his shoulders back into the wall and tug Alec over into the corner with him. "I'm always careful," he protests, grinning. "I've never detonated anything I didn't intend to."
Alec laughs and wedges himself tight against James. He's timed it. Three minutes, 45 seconds to the underground lab complex, Q Branch, so he doesn't waste time. "No, you haven't," he says, brushing James's lips with his own. "Just made very short fuses." Tongue slides in between parting teeth as James plans on delivering on some pithy comeback, but Alec muffles it with his mouth, claiming his partner and lover as quickly as he can. Can't waste even a second. Don't know how many we ever have.
James slides his hands under Alec's jacket, still two layers of cloth away from Alec's skin. Not fair. He opens his mouth, lets Alec take him, guide the kiss wherever he wants it to go this time. Sometimes it seems as if all their moments, all their kisses are stolen ones. "We need a vacation," James murmurs, drawing a hand up and teasing his fingers through Alec's hair. "A month's leave. Just you, me, and nothing exploding."
"Yes," Alec kisses the corner of James's mouth, "I'll just have Moneypenny tell M we're taking a holiday in Nice instead of going to Rome." Alec's hands haven't been idle. They've wormed their way to James's back, under the crisp cotton shirt and he rakes his nails across the small bruise he knows lingers from this morning's hurried bathroom groping. "Let's be quick with Q, 007, and I promise a long," he licks over his lover's jaw, "slow fuck before we pack."
It's more the promise of that than his curiosity about Q's latest inventions that has James's attention through the meeting in Q Branch. James and Alec are briefed on a variety of gadgets -- a watch that doubles as a two-way communications unit, a briefcase that can take and match fingerprints, documents printed on paper that explodes when torn into a certain specific number of strips -- and the new car that's being shipped to Rome is a beautiful Aston Martin with the standard tricks and turns. James slides his hand over the leather of the seats and imagines Alec's head in his lap while he's driving cross-country, late-night in the rain. His smirk earns him a pair of rolled eyes from Q, and a muttered admonition.
Alec doesn't need for James to say a word. He can read what's going through that mind. Leather upholstery. Dark night. It was just outside Paris the last time they tried that move. He swats James on the shoulder. "C'mon, partner," he whispers as Q moves off, "mind out of the gutter." He quickly slides his hand down James's back and adds a second swat, this one to the arse. Mine. And he's calculating on how to claim it as Q finishes the requisite spiel and they're heading to the parking garage, wondering just how nasty London traffic'll be and could they.
"Another trip to Rome," James says, digging keys out of his jacket pocket. "Wonder if the operative there's one we've worked with before." Worked with or worked with, James thinks, suppressing an urge to wink at Alec.
Giving James a coy innocent look, Alec deadpans, "Why, whatever do you mean, Mr. Bond," he says, leaning against the low sports car's top. "I would never take advantage of an operative." He opens the door the second James pops the lock. "And a Vatican one? Surely you know my morals aren't that low."
"You have excellent morals, 006, but occasionally deplorable tastes." James slides into the car and starts the engine, making sure all the gauges are set to street-legal and the panels have all been locked down. There was one time -- in Florence, James thinks -- when an inadvertent push of a lever nearly sent them off the road instead of sending Alec over into the back of James's throat. Not an experience he wants to repeat.
"Deplorable tastes." Alec shakes his head and turns slightly, reaching over when they've cleared MI6 grounds and stroking his finger across James's jaw. "Like you, I suppose," he says, his voice thick and deep, "or were you referring to my mixing strawberries with clotted cream?" That particular taste had been delectable, even out of the bowl. Served atop a bound 007's chest and scooped up with hot scones, it'd been positively intoxicating.
"I've no objection to your taste in breakfast," James grins. "It's your choice in spies that's proven questionable at times." And yes, he's referring to himself there, a bit of self-deprecating humor that seldom shows itself unless he's near Alec. Alec's the closest James ever gets to letting his guard down.
"I would beg to differ, sir," Alec says, returning the grin with a slightly more quirked one, sharing the joke, the history they've created since school days. "I think I've chosen quite well. Partner. Lover. And I'd trust him with my life." Alec knows James holds more in than other men, keeps his emotions close, and Alec revels in being the only one let inside that vault. It's mutual, and the words Alec utters can't be applied to anyone else. There is no one other person he trusts more.
"Alec..." Being confronted with bare honesty has never been easy for James. It's not what they do. Not what they're paid for. And every damned time Alec does it, it lands James flat on his back. Or makes him wish they were anywhere but in a fast-moving car. At least they're headed for home.
"You can reciprocate when we get home," Alec says, knowing exactly what he's done, how he's taken James aback. "If you turn right at the next intersection, you can save four minutes." He grins, trailing his hand down James's arm, letting it slide off and rest on his lover's thigh. "Not that it matters that we get there quickly or anything."
"Your shortcuts have gotten us into trouble on more than one occasion," James says. All those twists and turns; he'd much rather take the path he knows than something untested. And the way Alec's hand is moving on his body, he doesn't want to try taking a route he can't do with his eyes closed. He's going to come out distracted by the time they're through.
"Once, James, and it really wasn't my fault at that." Alec teases a single finger over the crisp, pressed fabric of James's tailored trousers, edges it over the shiny zipper. "Really, one would think you don't trust me to not get us in trouble." The grin on his lips is patented, smirk overlaid with desire. Trouble is exactly what Alec attracts, usually with his hands wrapped tightly in James's leather belt.
"I trust you, Alec, implicitly." James slides his own hand over Alec's, pinning it in place. "To get us into trouble, and to find a way to get us out of it." Nearly home, but it won't be soon enough for James's tastes, and he has to let his grip on Alec's hand go in order to shift gears.
Alec takes the gear shift moment to shift his fingers, latch onto the zipper and pull it down, slowly, creepingly. "Always, 007," he says, slipping his thumb through the small opening he makes and rubbing over the fabric separating his flesh from James's. Silk. Boxers. Predictable. He likes that about James, those little things he can count on not changing. Vodka martinis and lovers, both shaken not stirred.
He knows, too, just how much he can push, how easily he can nudge James to the edge, and he strokes his thumb downward, pushing the zipper along with his knuckle. "I make it 11 and a half minutes to home. Want to wait?"
"Would you? If I asked politely, with all my practiced charm behind the question?" James reaches over the gearshift, squeezes Alec's knee. "Would my breathtaking lover--" literally, more often than not-- "give a man the drive home in peace?"
"Yes, he would," Alec says quietly. "Is that what my lover wants?"
James is silent for a few moments, running fingertips up the inside of Alec's knee before he has to change gears again. And then he glances over at Alec, giving him a grin that reaches ear to ear and shows off the cut of his teeth. "No."
"I didn't think so." Alec works his fingers in through the zipper, separates the silk and wraps them around the hard flesh. Mine. "But I like giving you the choice, James." He strokes gently, an agonizing slowness perfected over years of testing a lover's resolve, and shifts in his seat so he can dip his head to James's lap should the motivation arise.
James draws his hand all the way up Alec's thigh, moves it over his arm and teases at the skin of his inner wrist. Another gearshift, and James only has a few more turns to remember before they'll be home. Thank God. James sets his lips together, focuses on the road and not the warmth of Alec's palm against his skin. "This is the sort of driving exercise they never teach us in training," he murmurs.
Alec laughs, not wnting to visualize that particular training class being added to the academy's program. "Somehow I don't think M would sanction that training, James," he says, glancing at the road for a moment. London traffic's not too bad, they're down to about 4 minutes to home and he really isn't in a patient mood. He pulls James's cock free of the fabric and bends down, ghosting a hot breath over its tip, kissing gently. Oh, no, M wouldn't sanction this driving exercise at all.
James curls his fingers into Alec's hair, exhaling softly, wanting nothing more than to stop the car at the side of the road, tilt his head back and moan his pleasure out until the windows are fogged and his come's coating the back of Alec's throat. But as good as this is, it'll be better at home where they can both relax, where they can stretch out in bed, kiss and touch at leisure for once. "And this?" he asks. "Does this fall under the need-to-know section as well?"
"Definitely classified information, 007," Alec deadpans, sucking just on the tip, teasing till they're home and can do it for hours. "I think it qualifies for gag order, even."
"But as we haven't a gag handy--" Which is not strictly true; James could probably improvise something if he needed to-- "let's keep your mouth busy. Full mouths tell no tales..." And he tightens his grip on Alec's hair, dragging his mouth down as he pushes the car harder, speeds up and wonders just how fast he can take these last few miles.
Alec has absolutely no problem with that idea. He sinks his mouth over James's cock, taking it fully in over his tongue, his hands pushing back the trousers so he can press his face down, nose burrowing in the fine black hairs, taking in the mingled scent of sex and sweat and the uniqueness of his lover. He pulls up, halfway along the shaft, and pushes down again, mentally clicking off the seconds till the garage door will be triggered and they'll be home.
Want. Need. Love. James's thoughts are ticking off the feelings, and the only thing that keeps him silent is the knowledge that words given easily all too often lose their sense of potency. These are words better shared when they're alone and sated, resting in bed between days that have seen them laughing off death with seconds to spare.
Want. It's a craving Alec has for James, one he thinks will never be sated, not with all the kisses and blowjobs and hard fucks against walls that he can ever get. Need. It burns inside him, the desire to possess this man, to claim him over and over, to keep him close. Love. It's a word Alec has trouble getting out, except in the dark, when James can't see the want and need in his eyes, but it underscores everything.
Alec sucks a bit harder, pushing back the thoughts of anything but pleasure and torturing James until he's near breaking with the need to take his lover.
James is so close there's an electric rush under his skin, and he pulls into the garage not a moment too soon. He tugs Alec's head off his cock, shuts off the engine, and leans over to kiss him, hard, tongue tasting the leftover flavor of his cock on Alec's lips.
Lips press against Alec's, sudden and claiming, better than having his mouth on James's cock. He wraps his hand around the back of his lover's neck, holds him in the kiss till he absolutely has to breathe. "Inside," he pants when forced to let go. "Want you on the bed, where we can make this go on for hours."
"I thought you'd never ask," James grins, breath coming just as hard and fast. "Come on."
He's out of the car first, pants barely buttoned up, and then they're both headed inside, through the hallways to the bedroom. Silk sheets, still rumpled from this morning's activities, where James left a bitebruise against Alec's thigh before they got themselves into the shower.
Alec is stripping in the kitchen, jacket tossed over the espresso machine on the island bar, and he manages to get to the hallway before his shirt's off. By the bedroom, he's unbuttoning and unzipping and blessing the fact he wore dress shoes to the briefing instead of boots, toeing out of them and kicking them halfway across the room.
Alec's impatience never fails to make James grin. He follows, only slipping out of his jacket as he goes, standing at the side of the bed to unbuckle his holster, slide cufflinks out of shirtsleeves and unbutton his shirt.
James's overwhelming abundance of patience never fails to infuriate Alec. In the most delightful way. He's not sure where his holster ended up. Somewhere between the kitchen and the hallway, most likely, and the poor cufflinks are in the carpet. Or so he thinks. He makes a mental note to watch where he's walking middle of the night.
Alec stretches out on the bed and watches as James undresses. There is that payoff for impatience. He's finished first and can enjoy the show. "Come along, 007, don't dawdle," he says.
"I don't dawdle," James protests. There's that grin of his, flashing all his teeth. "I draw out the anticipation." His belt lands near his shirt, and then it's shoes, socks, trousers. The silk of his boxers gliding down his legs. And he prowls onto the bed, a slow crawl, teeth nipping at Alec's ankle and then up along the side of his calf as he comes up.
"Semantics, a delightful game to play when I'm less horny," Alec quips. He relaxes, arms lazily stretched over his head as he moves under James's touch. "For now, though, I'd prefer you on top of me. Or vice versa. Whose turn is it anyway?"
"Are we taking turns this month?" James asks, nuzzling against the inside of Alec's knee before licking and sucking his way up Alec's leg. "I love taking you. Want to take you. Mine, Alec--" James's teeth sink hard into the inside of Alec's thigh.
"Yours, James, of course." Alec doesn't mind either way. There's very little power play between them, easily switching off, the dynamic shifting as it needs. "Want you inside me, taking me," he says, moaning at the bite. "Want to feel it days from now when we're listening to Mass filter through the catacombs."
"Days from now I'll have you pinned against stone in the catacombs in the seven stolen minutes between when we arrive and when we have to leave," James breathes, licking his way up and over Alec's cock, nuzzling against soft blond curls. "Or you'll have me." His tongue flicks out over the head of Alec's cock, and he nips gently at it, teeth teasing at foreskin. "Either way, love."
"Oooh, such visuals, James. Let's start with you," Alec whimpers, his body jerking at James's teasing teeth, "right about there." He slips his hand down and works fingers through his lover's hair. "A little harder, a bit deeper."
"Teeth?" James asks, already opening his mouth and sliding forward, sucking hard as he sinks down over Alec's cock.
"Bloody hell, yes," Alec gasps, the sensation of James sinking down on him never ceasing to amaze, delight. "Teeth and tongue and anything else you want to use."
And James uses all of it, his teeth to scrape lightly and then far less lightly up the length of Alec's cock, his tongue to soothe the scratch and sting afterwards, the rough surface of his tongue flicking hard at the sensitive spot just below the head of Alec's cock, the warm soft slippery glide of his lips up and down the shaft. It's always so good doing this. So good, because it's Alec, and James loves him, and this is a way to say it without words.
There are times when Alex likes closing his eyes and just listening to James talk, usually when they're on the plane heading God knows where. James's voice calms Alec, its controlled patter a soothing counterpoint to the constant whir of Alec's brain. And other times Alec keeps his eyes open and James isn't saying a word and still the sound of that voice calms and controls and centers.
Alec strokes his hand over James's head, fingers ghosting rather than twining. Your pace, James. He shifts, spreads his legs a bit under James's chest, opens himself with only a hinted whimper acknoweldging how thoroughly he's under James's spell.
James reaches forward, licks his way off Alec's cock for just a moment so he can wet his fingers thoroughly, sucking two of them into his mouth and teasing them just inside Alec's arse. He goes back to sucking him, then, swallowing and swallowing 'til his nose is buried in Alec's curls.
"Please," Alec murmurs, a vocal concession to need and desire. He winds a hand through the bed's headboard railing, pushing his body down into James's mouth, fingers. "Want you."
James curls his fingers up and draws his mouth away from Alec's cock. "More than just my fingers?" he asks, twisting them, curling them. "More than just my mouth?"
"Yes." The single syllable's hissed softly, followed by clearly enunciated words. "Want your cock, James. Inside me. Tearing me apart."
"I think we ought to at least try to keep you in one piece," James teases. "We do have a flight tomorrow. Get the lube for me?"
"You know, it's really unnecessary," Alec stretches his arm, grabs the bottle on the nightstand and passes it to James. "Still damned loose from the last time," he smirks.
"Oh, but the slick slippery feel of it, the way your body opens up for me and lets me glide, Alec, there's nothing else like it," James breathes, nuzzling into Alec's stomach for a moment before taking the lube and slicking his fingers -- sparingly, as a concession to Alec.
"Well, when you put it so nicely, by all means, use the lube." Alec grins at James's description. Gliding. Makes him sound like one of Q's bloody contraptions James is working his way into. "Just want you in."
"Impatient." James bites at Alec's stomach and comes up on his knees between Alec's legs. "I'm right here," he whispers, lining up, and then sinks in hard with one sharp thrust.
Any coherency is lost, Alec's command of English evaporating in the sudden taking, the claiming. This is what he wants, to be so possessed he doesn't care where he is. He pushes down hard, grinding his lower back against the bed, shoving himself onto James, forcing him in deeper. He wants to taste his lover from the inside out, be consumed.
James settles a hand on Alec's chest, just over his heart, so he can feel Alec's pulse against his palm. His other hand pulls Alec's leg up, calf around the back of his thigh, and he starts moving in hard, so hard it'll have to burn, hard enough to make him shudder.
Burn it does, charring like the comet hitting Siberia, searing Alec to the bone. "James," he slurs, then hisses, drawing the single-syllable name out for an eternity. His heart slows down to match his breathing, controlled pants, and he moves to wrap his other leg around his lover's body, pull him in tight.
"Yours," James breathes, fingernails biting into Alec's chest while his cock moves in hard. "Yours, Alec. Completely. Always."
"Forever," Alec murmurs. To the grave and beyond he thinks and doesn't add, the sentiment sounding rather macabre even to his brain. Alec touches James's hand, holds it steady, gouging the nails into the flesh, and then drags it down over his chest, hissing out as the cut's made, the blood brought forth. Brothers in arms. Warrior lovers.
The scent of Alec's blood in the air draws an unexpected groan out of James, a need to be closer, feel more, lick over Alec's chest and take up the copper sting on his tongue. "Mine," he breathes, and while others might make Alec bleed, might burn or bruise him, he's the only one who can have Alec this way. Body, blood and soul, if such a thing exists.
Alec swipes his finger through the trail of blood and presses it against James's lip. "Mine. Yours." James does own him, body, blood and soul, and he likes reminding him of that fact every so often.
James bites down on Alec's fingertip before licking off the traces of blood there. "Alec--" His eyes have gone so dark they're nearly black, and his thrusts are speeding up. The hitch of his hips as he sinks in deep marks the way he's holding himself back; any minute now, yes, God, but not yet. Not until Alec's there with him, ready to go over.
"At your word, James," Alec says softly, his body jerking at the bite, then coiling in on the building release. He slips a blood-smeared hand down and roughly strokes his cock. He was halfway there before they started, wanting James for hours before that. And he can give his lover that, coming on command, when James dictates and desires.
The trace of blood over cock is sensory overload for James. One thing too many, and he digs his fingernails into Alec's chest, mouth wide open as he comes, hot and hard and one thrust after another until his vision starts to blur. And as soon as the grey haze creeps in along the edges, he whispers out "Now, lover," barely managing to keep his eyes open as he watches Alec under him.
Alec lets go with a bitten-off scream, his fist shoving downward on his cock, drawing out the pained pleasure of coming so hard he can't keep his eyes open and even closed the blinding whiteness is too intense. "Yes, James," he hisses out, shooting white streams of come over his hand, his cock pulsing under his touch till he's spent and his flesh soaked. And still his body is jerking, covered in blood and semen, and he's wanting more.
James lets himself collapse on Alec's chest, trapping hand and cock both, and nuzzles into the side of his neck. He bites down hard, licking over the bitten spot, and sighs out a long breath. "Alec."
Alec doesn't bite back the scream that time, letting it echo the walls of their bedroom. He's claimed, possessed, content to die right then and there not have a single regret. He slides his free hand down and over James's shoulder, pulling him in closer, melding their bodies if he could. "Sleep now? A few hours." Then we go back to being partners, agents, something more officially sanctioned than lovers.
"A few hours," James murmurs back, disentangling himself just enough to let Alec move his other hand if he likes, to let them both get comfortable. The upcoming mission's interesting enough; it'll give them opportunities to play, certainly. But there's nothing like this -- the comfort between lovers at home, at rest. And it's something James swears he's never going to take for granted.
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