FIC: Beyond the call (2/?) James Bond/Torchwood, Bond/Ianto, R
TITLE: Beyond the call - part 2
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: 1,611
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 ;)
The sun was beginning to peek out from behind the clouds when Ianto finally stirred. Bond was perched on the edge of the sofa bed, where he'd spent the night like a gentleman. He hoped the cream trousers and sky blue shirt gave an air of casual indifference to the world and would allow Ianto to trust him. He hoped.
Ianto sat up suddenly, looking about him wildly. Bond waved from the sofa.
"Sleep well?"
Scrubbing at his unshaven cheeks, Ianto smiled sheepishly. "Uh, yes, I did. Thank you." He paused to consider for a moment. "Mind if I use your shower?"
"Not at all," he said, grinning, knowing that the next logical step would be to ask Bond to fetch clothes from his hotel room. He could find the information and leave - mission complete.
"Better, uh, ring for my clothes first," he said, and picked up the phone. Bond hid his disappointment with a smile, handing Ianto one of the coffees he'd had sent up for them. Ianto took it with a grin and sipped it like a connoisseur.
He set down the steaming mug and drifted towards the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. "Thank you for…taking care of me, last night. I appreciate it."
"I thought it was you who was 'taking care' of me."
Ianto grinned again and ducked into the bathroom. Bond smiled despite himself - this wasn't as difficult as he'd anticipated. He had the lines and the moves, he had his control back-
"Join me?"
Steam curled round the naked man in the doorway and Bond found his eyes trailing Ianto's body, taking in the view.
He started to undo his shirt. Ianto pulled him forward into the bathroom and divested him of his clothes, kisses trailing his neck, his jaw, before guiding him into the shower.
The water was the perfect temperature and being pressed against the shower wall brought the previous night flooding back: the drinks, the lift, Ianto's mouth on his cock…
And then Ianto wasn't kissing him.
"What's wrong?" he said, annoyed at the quaver in his voice.
Ianto laid his hands flat on Bond's chest and wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I have…someone. In Cardiff. We're…well, it's complicated. I…I thought I should tell you."
Now, this was familiar territory. Bond flicked Ianto's hair out of his eyes and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Whatever you want from me is free. I'm not…interested in attachment."
Ianto smiled again but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He did, however, start kissing him again, taking both his hands and bringing them to his arse.
He was cock to cock with Ianto now, and he realised that maybe he was meant to reciprocate for last night. That was good sexual etiquette, after all, and he had always left his lovers satisfied. But this was-
It was one thing to accept a blow job from someone, someone who happened to be a man and also very good at blow jobs. It was another to give one, because that would mean he would have to accept he was seducing a man.
A man who was kissing him desperately in the shower, whose cock was hardening against his own and who showed no signs of letting go.
Bond broke the kiss with the smile, placing a finger to Ianto's swollen lips.
"Later. I have plans for today."
He stepped out of the shower before Ianto could protest, casually flicking a towel over his shoulder and walking slowly away.
When the door was safely closed behind him, he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. What was he doing? He couldn't just rewire himself for the weekend, pretend he had a sudden attraction to men and just "go through the motions".
He was an intelligence agent, a lover of fine things and fine women. He was not a lover of men, not even men as attractive as Ianto Jones. What was he going to do?
His clothes were strewn across the bathroom floor and Ianto was still in the shower. He pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a long fleece top, eyeing the greying sky. Now he had to formulate these "plans" to allay Ianto's suspicions; he hoped he would be regarded as a tease and not the coward he was.
"James?"
Ianto emerged with a towel around his waist, and Bond realised this mission was far from over. "Your-"
The knock at the door interrupted him and he opened it, offering the porter a smile.
"Case for Mr Jones," he said, face carefully neutral, and Bond took it with a nod, palming off a ten pound note. He lifted the case onto the bed and flicked it open, taking charge.
"Oh, Ianto, what do we have here?" He pulled out a deep purple shirt, holding it up to Ianto's chest and passing a critical eye. "Hmm…too formal."
Ianto smiled, as Bond continued to raid his case, looking for the document that must be there. "Hmm…too casual…too winter…too pink..."
That earned him a laugh and Ianto pulled a grey rollneck jumper from his hands, manoeuvring around him to get dressed. Bond cast another eye over the case - where was the file? He'd need time to go through the whole thing properly, but how could he distract him?
It would be so much easier to knock him out and finish the mission, but MI6 needed Torchwood and, besides, he wasn't in the habit of cold-cocking his allies.
"Does this meet with your approval?"
Bond turned and surveyed the man. The jeans were snug and the jumper softened him into someone with a home and a family. Bond tried not to think about that side of him - this was business, not marriage.
"I don't know, Mr Jones - I think I preferred you out of it."
Ianto pulled a face, but the blush rose on his cheeks and Bond was pleased with himself. He was firmly in control of the situation again and working from a position of strength was good attack policy.
"So, what are these 'big plans'?"
Bond flashed him a trademark grin and flung open the door. "After you, please."
~
Bond was physically incapable of taking the Tube, so they hailed a taxi to Trafalgar Square. He'd save the car for later.
They stayed in the National Gallery for all of ten minutes before Bond realised he'd misjudged and Ianto was already flagging. He dragged him out into the murk and found a secluded alleyway to push him up against the wall. Kissing is easy. Kissing I can do.
When they emerged, Ianto was looking more alive and he hailed another taxi. The London Eye was a cheesy monstrosity but it served his purpose, and he got Ianto alone in a private capsule with champagne.
"To…escaping the boss." And Ianto blushed, clinking his glass before looking away.
Bond wasn't sure he wanted to turn the head of Torchwood Three into an enemy but there was no reason why this little affair couldn't be kept secret. After all, Ianto had no idea who he was and it was unlikely he would meet the boss under professional circumstances. Still, he knew not to mix business with pleasure, unless his business was pleasure, as it so often was.
When he lifted a champagne truffle to Ianto's lips, he was only half expecting him to bite. But he did, sucking the whole chocolate into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the tips of Bond's fingers. It reminded him of the lift and he was suddenly uncomfortable, wondering why he got rid of the host at the ground station.
It turned out, however, that Ianto wasn't an exhibitionist and only shot him looks across the seat. Bond indulged him with a leisurely kiss, but clearly this was not the time for new advances in the field of sexual expression. Bond guiltily considered this a reprieve.
"Do you live in London?"
He was about to extol the virtues of anonymous liaisons, when he realised that taking the man out for the day pretty much put pay to that.
"Sometimes. My work involves a lot of travelling."
Ianto nodded but didn't question further; he couldn't give up his work either and Bond wouldn't push for lies. When the capsule finally hit earth, Bond drew his hand suggestively over Ianto's arse as they leave. He needed to keep his interest, even if he wasn't entirely sure where this was going.
He'd had time to plan now and he hailed another taxi, thinking of a place where he was guaranteed service and could discretely pass the bill onto M.
"Le Pont de la Tour, Mr. Jones. Does it meet your approval?"
Ianto flashed him a smile, and Bond saw everything - this was not a man used to being wined and dined. Perhaps taken for granted, a bit of fun but only the bare bones of relationship; Ianto wanted to be treated and indulged, and Bond could certainly provide that. He'd entertained enough bored trophy wives to know this routine and he was back in his stride. He'd figure out the technicalities later.
"Table for two, the M account. Somewhere…secluded."
"Right away, sir," the waiter stammered, leading him to a private room. Ianto tried not to stare and Bond pretended not to notice - the look on his face was reward enough.
"James, this is-"
Bond pulled out a chair and gestured for Ianto to sit. "James, don't-"
"Now, if you're not a good boy, you won't get dessert." His best wolfish grin showed him exactly what dessert could be. Ianto sat.
Nobody could say James Bond wasn't adaptable.
To be continued...
x-posted to myfanwysbatcave