"Betrayal Revised," Bond, PG, Alec/James
Title: "Betrayal Revised"
Author: Luna lunasv
Fandom: Bond
Pairing: Alec/James
Rating: PG
Summary: Revenge doesn't always work out.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters belonging to Ian Fleming Foundation, MGM and others. No profit being made.
Notes: This is my first contrelamontre piece. Written in the 20 minutes it took the preacher to sermonify on the FifthCommandment this morning, then typed in about 15 minutes when I got home. Just an alternative reality vision for the guys who inspire me, and you know who you are.
Even watching him felt like being a voyeur.
No, it didn't feel like being a voyeur. It was voyeurism. One man's obsession with a sordid vision.
At a distance, with James Bond safely in London, Alec Trevelyan could be the voyeur. He could watch with detachment, plot the demise of Her Majesty's loyal servant. It was supposed to be simple vengeance. A settling of scores with queen and country and betrayer. But revenge had a way of working itself into a Gordian knot even a god of duplicity couldn't cut through.
At closer proximity, with James wandering Russian streets, the voyeur wanted to reach out, touch the object of his obsession. Reality shifted. Plans changed. So, instead of skewing odds in his favor, Alec sent Ourumov away as he walked into the statue graveyard. He faced James alone. Let lover and comrade - ex on both counts, he harshly recalled as he breathed in the cold air - have the upper hand.
Alec buried his face in the unyielding stone, the voyeur turning away. He gave himself over to James. Let him rip the trenchcoat from Alec's shoulders, jerk tailored jacket down unresisting arms. Let him caress Alec's flesh with midnight bruises. It was a risk, but revenge had yielded to longing.
James took Alec's unspoken offer, put aside gun and excavated with marauding hands until Alec was laid bare. Fingers ghosted scars along Alec's cheek, each touched, lingered and passed on in a hushed rosary.
"For England, James?"
"No." Alec flinched as lips brushed his disfigured flesh. "For me."
Confession made.
Penance sought.
Author: Luna lunasv
Fandom: Bond
Pairing: Alec/James
Rating: PG
Summary: Revenge doesn't always work out.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters belonging to Ian Fleming Foundation, MGM and others. No profit being made.
Notes: This is my first contrelamontre piece. Written in the 20 minutes it took the preacher to sermonify on the FifthCommandment this morning, then typed in about 15 minutes when I got home. Just an alternative reality vision for the guys who inspire me, and you know who you are.
Even watching him felt like being a voyeur.
No, it didn't feel like being a voyeur. It was voyeurism. One man's obsession with a sordid vision.
At a distance, with James Bond safely in London, Alec Trevelyan could be the voyeur. He could watch with detachment, plot the demise of Her Majesty's loyal servant. It was supposed to be simple vengeance. A settling of scores with queen and country and betrayer. But revenge had a way of working itself into a Gordian knot even a god of duplicity couldn't cut through.
At closer proximity, with James wandering Russian streets, the voyeur wanted to reach out, touch the object of his obsession. Reality shifted. Plans changed. So, instead of skewing odds in his favor, Alec sent Ourumov away as he walked into the statue graveyard. He faced James alone. Let lover and comrade - ex on both counts, he harshly recalled as he breathed in the cold air - have the upper hand.
Alec buried his face in the unyielding stone, the voyeur turning away. He gave himself over to James. Let him rip the trenchcoat from Alec's shoulders, jerk tailored jacket down unresisting arms. Let him caress Alec's flesh with midnight bruises. It was a risk, but revenge had yielded to longing.
James took Alec's unspoken offer, put aside gun and excavated with marauding hands until Alec was laid bare. Fingers ghosted scars along Alec's cheek, each touched, lingered and passed on in a hushed rosary.
"For England, James?"
"No." Alec flinched as lips brushed his disfigured flesh. "For me."
Confession made.
Penance sought.