FIC: Beyond the call (Torchwood/James Bond: Ianto/Bond, R)

[demon_faith]

TITLE: Beyond the call - part 1
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
FANDOMS: Torchwood, James Bond
CONTINUITY: AU in Season 2; Pierce Brosnan-era films
PAIRINGS: Bond/Ianto (later: Bond/Ianto/Jack)
RATING: R
WARNINGS: Semi-explicit sexual encounters
WORD COUNT: 2,078
SUMMARY: James Bond faces his toughest mission yet - the seduction of Ianto Jones
DISCLAIMER: I own not Torchwood; I own not the Bond. All's well.
NOTES: So, kirke_novak rings me up and we wibble for an hour. And Kirke says she has a craving for James Bond to, somewhat reluctantly, seduce a man. This is what turned up in my head.
Thanks to skitty_kat for playing the M to my Bond ;)

"Bond. Sit down."

There was a small dent in the centre of her forehead that indicated a frown and Bond found himself searching his recent past for particularly stupid mistakes.

"M" He sat in front of her desk, watching her face carefully. Her mouth was settled in a grave line and her eyes were carefully blank - this was not normal behaviour.

"Bond, I have a mission for you. And…if you believe that it is…beyond the call of duty, I will understand if you refuse."

She had never given him a choice before, not like this. It must be a serious mission, the assassination of a national leader, perhaps, or a threat to the Queen. What would make her think that he'd refuse?

"Bond?"

"Please, continue."

She resettled her hands on the desk and met his eyes coolly.

"At this very moment, MI5 are meeting with a representative of the Torchwood Institution to gather information about their current activity as it relates to national security and…our enemies abroad. They have…informed me that this information is strictly need-to-know and will be handled by MI5 exclusively."

With difficulty, he reined in his temper. "International threats-"

"Are our territory. I am aware of that, Bond. This is a vulgar gesture by an equally vulgar man - let us hope he does not have time to become comfortable in that office."

A new head of MI5 was always eager to flex his muscles, particularly against MI6, but playing games with the nation's security was completely unacceptable.

"So, I am to meet with this representative and request the intelligence from him?"

M looked uneasy. "I'm afraid it won’t be that simple. The Prime Minister has declared that only MI5 will be liaising with Torchwood - they are technically outside the government, you know."

His lip curled in anger. "The Prime Minister is-"

"A moron, yes, yes. But we do not have time to quibble. You mission is to extract the information from the operative without use of force and without revealing your identity." Her eyes softened. "That leaves you very few options."

It took a moment to realise the implications, the reason for her sobriety and the unexpected ability to refuse. He placed his hands flat on the table, digging his nails into the wood.

"What exactly are you asking, M?"

"I understand this is not the…typical outlet for your skills, Bond, but…this is what your country needs of you."

"M, please, just…say it."

He needed to be absolutely sure of what she was asking. He had to know so he could tell her to go to Hell.

"James, I need you to seduce this man."

Flying to his feet, he prepared to shout, to rave, but the look on her face stopped him. She was expecting him to say no. She was already planning to…give this mission to another agent.

If he refused, someone else would be in this position.

He had never refused a mission. He had never refused his duty to Queen and country.

His…duty to seduce.

"I accept," he said, his mouth drying as he spoke. M nodded and passed a folder across the desk.

"Good luck, Bond. Godspeed."

As he left the office, he realised the folder was shaking in his hand. He brought himself under control and took his hat from Moneypenny with the barest nod. He was going to bed a man for international secrets. A man as accustomed to secrecy as himself, a man unwilling to part with such secrets at the cost of his life.

If he could find his way to the man's hotel room, that might be enough. Any computer can be hacked, any notes copied - he may not have to…pursue him at all.

His feet had carried him to the Q Branch and he hesitated outside the door. Did this mission require a technical briefing? His stomach balked at what Q might produce for this mission and he was tempted to turn around, march back to M's office and tell her that it was off, no deal, he couldn't go through with it.

But he was a Double-Oh Agent and he could not back out of an assignment. This was simply…a new challenge.

"Come in, Bond. I've been expecting you."

Q was standing in the doorway and Bond nodded once, letting himself be led to a secluded corner of the lab.

"Now, Double-Oh-Seven, I'm not sure I have much in the way of…equipment for this mission."

It was strange how Bond couldn't quite meet Q's eyes but he nodded anyway, pretending to be interested in the array of knives on the display table.

"Here." Q shoved a small bag into Bond's hands with an embarrassed smile. "A few of the essentials." A pause, then a clap to the shoulder. "Good luck."

Bond nodded and started to leave, clutching the bag like a lifeline. What on earth was he doing? He couldn't do this, he would-

"Oh, and Bond?"

He turned and caught the keys in his free hand. Q smiled.

"Take the car."

~

He booked a room at the Hilton London Euston, the same hotel as his target. M's information said the man was staying another two nights. He had worked at Torchwood One before the Canary Wharf incident, and was now placed at Torchwood Three. All other information was highly classified but the impression from the lower ranks was that his advances would not be unwelcome.

That did nothing to comfort him. Or quell his anger

The Aston was safely in the hotel garage - he wouldn't need it for tonight's plan. If he had a plan. He'd checked in without concealment, because no one cared about his name here, and taken a few moments to prepare his hotel room as a bored businessman's retreat (he would not think about the reasons why). Donning some artfully creased trousers and an open collar shirt, he headed for the bar, leather jacket slung across his shoulder.

He'd studied photos of the target and casually looked about as he made his way to the bar. As luck would have it, the man was sitting on a bar stool in his line of sight, a bottle of Glenfiddich by his elbow. And this only ten o'clock.

"Magners - glass, no ice." He didn't want to scare him off straight away and the blearily interested look he received told him he was right. "May I join you?"

The man shrugged, expensive suit jacket sliding off his shoulder. He tried to force it back up and keep his balance, but was only partly successful, wobbling dangerously on the stool. Bond slid beside him, steadying his body against his own. Just like Paris, like Christmas. This is exactly the same.

"Thanks," the man said awkwardly, then straightened himself, apparently sobering. "Ianto Jones." He held out a hand.

He shook it warmly. "Bond, James Bond." He let his hand linger a moment in the other man's, before Jones pulled away, a shy smile touching his lips.

If he thought about it, he could say that Jones was quite handsome. His dark brown hair was styled carefully and the circles under his eyes didn't detract from the smoothness of his cheeks or the curve of his lips. Yes, he was a handsome man and perhaps that would help. If he could get past the fact that he was indeed a man.

Bond perched on the stool next to him, drawing it an inch or two closer and sipping at his cider. The jacket had been casually dumped on the bar but he could see Jones studying the leather.

"S'nice," he said, fingers playing at the sleeve.

"Imported," he said dismissively. "So, business or pleasure?"

"Business," Jones said and his eyes clouded. "You?"

"Oh, escaping the business for a couple of days. Sometimes I just need to get away from it all." He made a leap. "Especially the boss."

Jones' face twisted and he drained his glass, reaching for the bottle. "Yeah."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Jones started to stand. Bond realised he was losing him and stood up, seemingly on the pretence of steadying Jones' shoulder.

"M'fine, fine," he muttered under his breath, but Bond held him close anyway, studying the feel of him under his hands. Not like a woman then, but stronger, more of an equal than a delicate prize. The thought of what he had to do was making him ill, but he bit back the bile - he needed to focus.

"Just…getting some air," he said, but his eyes said something different, as if this was a dare of some kind.

"I'll come with you," he said and Jones nodded, that smile returning to his face. Bond realised he was probably missing something here but let it pass, holding the younger man upright as they struggled out onto the street.

Jones gulped at the air, as if drowning, and Bond held him upright, stealing his warmth in the chill night air. He'd left his jacket on the bar but now was not the time to leave, as Jones turned to him and smiled.

Maybe he could do this after all.

Wait, what was he thinking? This was absurd - he bedded women for the mission, not…this. He was angry at M, angry at this whole stupid mission, and angry at Jones for being a damn man in the first place. A man who was still smiling at him.

"Perhaps…you'd join me for coffee?" he heard his voice saying the words, and Jones' eyes seemed to sparkle, his face losing the clouding from earlier.

"Coffee…in your room?" He licked his lips and Bond felt a stirring in his groin. This couldn't be happening. He was not attracted to men, he was not interested, this was a mission - but he had to play the part, so this was good. He was just getting into character. Just like any other mission.

"My room," he said, laying on his best smile. Jones grinned back and stumbled with him to the lift, hand resting in the small of his back. His flushed face was pressed into Bond's neck for a moment before the lift doors opened and a smart couple walked by them, ignoring them completely.

Bond dragged Jones into the lift and pressed the button for his floor. He needed to get the man out of the public eye and…get on with the mission.

But Jones had other ideas. Coyly, he pressed the stop button and brought the lift to a smooth halt. "What's the hurry?"

Suddenly, Jones had him pressed against the lift wall and was kissing him. He tasted of fine whiskey and better coffee, his tongue agile and quick and his hard body pushing Bond flat against the wall. This was nothing like being kissed by a woman.

Hands fumbled on his belt and he realised they were moving quicker than he'd planned - had he planned for this? Then, his trousers were round his ankles and Ianto Jones was kneeling in front of him.

"Ready, James?" he said and then took his cock in his mouth. Bond cried out, hands clutching at the rail on the lift wall and struggling not to buck his hips into the perfect wetness.

Because Ianto clearly knew what he was doing. He'd known women who were experienced, perfect, but this was…beyond. He felt his mind unravel as Ianto worked his magic and he found his fingers twisting in Ianto's hair, nonsense words leaving his mouth as his infamous control deserted him and left him at the mercy of Ianto's tongue.

He came hard and fast, fighting to stay upright as Ianto swallowed him down, pulling away with a self-satisfied smirk. "Good coffee, James?" he said slyly.

Bond could only nod, allowing Ianto to carefully refasten his trousers. "The best," he breathed, earning him another gorgeous smile. Ianto restarted the lift and they arrived at his floor, which was thankfully empty.

He opened the room as Ianto swayed dangerously, dragging them both down to the floor. He touched Bond's nose and smiled. "You're not Jack…but I like you," he said and passed out.

Bond extricated himself from Ianto's embrace and kicked the door closed. A reprieve, for the moment. He hoisted the sleeping man over his shoulder and laid him down on the bed, removing shoes, jacket and tie. Then, he placed him in the recovery position and headed for the shower - there was no point thinking about this until morning.

To be continued...

x-posted to myfanwysbatcave