13 Drabbles (James Bond/Alec Trevelyan)
This fic is rated: NC-17
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James Bond/Alec Trevelyan
Summary: thirteen unconnected drabbles
For slashthedrabble's prompt 177: old challenges revisited
Warnings: sex and violence
Word Count: 100 x 13
X-Posted: were_lemur, forengland, bond_slash, slashthedrabble
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
My FanFic Masterlist
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other recognizable characters mentioned in this fic. James, Alec, etc. are all property of Ian Fleming and MGM. I'm just playing with them for a while. Not making any money, don't have any money, please don't sue!
003 Out Loud
"We're not in a safe house now," Alec said, his voice the epitome of reason. "We're not in the back of a truck, or enemy territory, or somewhere we're supposed to be."
"True," James said. "Unfortunately, the habits of a lifetime -- "
"Can be suspended when we're in this very nice hotel," Alec said.
"The other guests might object."
"They'll probably enjoy the show." He twisted his greased fingers deeper. James arched, and bit his lip. "Because I promise you, one way or another, before we check out tomorrow morning, I am going to make you scream out loud.
026 Stormy
"Move over," Alec grumbled, trying to wedge himself deeper in the space between the two boulders. "It's dripping right on the back of my neck."
James moved to accommodate him, and then pulled him down. Alec found himself unable to breathe. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one racing through his nervous system. His skin tingled as if lightning was about to strike, his blood roared in his ears like thunder.
He wasn't sure how the beginnings of an erection fit into the metaphor, but there it was. Embarrassed, he shifted his hips so James wouldn't feel it.
033 Kink
"Roses?" Alec asked, studying the box that sat in the center of the table. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Later," James murmured. "I'm expecting a pretty little heiress to a shipping company that may be involved in smuggling. A virgin, probably."
"But not for long," Alec said, "when 007 is on the job."
"Jealous?" James asked.
"God, no," Alec murmured. He shoved his trousers and briefs down in one movement, then bent over the back of the couch to show James that the butt plug he'd inserted the night before was still securely in place. "You know I prefer the thorns."
050 Rough
A week in the wilderness, and neither of them are looking -- or smelling -- their best. James can think of nothing he wants more than a shower. Still, he can't help imagining the rough texture of Alec's stubble. How it would feel under his fingers if he kissed him, how it would scrape against his lips.
Against his chest. His belly. How it might feel if his cock brushed Alec's cheek.
He realizes that he's hard just thinking about it, and that Alec is staring. And he can almost imagine that it's hunger, not amusement, behind that unreadable smile.
059 Escape
"This way," Alec whispered. "I remember it from the map."
"Surely the streets would be faster," James protested.
"I heard on the radio -- they've got roadblocks up." He leaned forward just enough to make sure no one was watching. "But the old tunnels are only passable on foot."
"We'll have to make our own way to the extraction point," James pointed out.
"The walk will do us good. Give us a chance to get our stories straight."
"I wasn't the one who tried to steal a sailboat."
Alec grinned. "Well, I thought you said you wanted a romantic getaway."
068 Green
James knew he had it bad when he spent the whole of an interminable meeting trying to figure out the exact color of Alec's eyes.
Emerald was right out -- no one had emerald eyes outside of those silly romances his latest secretary read when he thought she wasn't looking.
Grass was too yellow, and too common besides.
Sea green was too muted, lincoln green was too dark, kelly green was just silly.
Finally, he decided. Someone needed to write the color chart chaps and tell them that they needed to add a new color, and call it Alec's eyes.
071 Masks
By the time they've both showered and dressed, Alec's mask was fully back in place. He was once again the secret agent, suave, handsome, deadly. James knew it well, it was the one he'd worn most of the time for what seemed like all of his life.
But lately, he wanted to pry into those cracks that sometimes appeared, unexpectedly, in Alec's mask.
Not that he'd ever do it. Alec deserved that much. And besides, if he did unmask Alec, he'd have to reciprocate. And he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror.
117 Heroes
It had been a long time since Alec had thought of himself as a hero.
He didn't remember exactly when the change had happened; there had been no epiphany, so line that divided everything into before and after. Just the gradual erosion of everything he believed in.
Except James.
James still believed in an England that was worthy of his service, his life, and most of the time, Alec envied him. Patriotism made him something more than an assassin.
But Alec had found his own purpose. And when he told James "for England," what he really meant was "for you."
123 Sweet and/or Sour
James staggered through the door, chilled to the bone and exhausted to the point of pain. The mission had been bad enough -- the debriefing had been the killer. He knew damn well he'd fucked up, without M pounding the point home for seven bloody hours.
When the doorbell rang, he almost didn't answer it. Only the last, reflexive vestiges of courtesy dragged him away from the promise of sleep.
It was Alec.
"If M sent you -- "
"He didn't," Alec said, and shoved a box from the Chinese takeaway into James' hands. "Someone needs to watch your back."
124 Betrayal
He'd always thought he could forgive Alec everything, except dying. Until the day they faced each other as enemies.
And James had emerged victorious.
Hadn't he?
He'd saved England, at least. Though it was days before he drank enough vodka martinis to wash the taste of ashes from his mouth.
Eventually, he managed to convince himself that he had won. That it had all turned out for the best. Even though sometimes, even years later, he would find himself lying awake at night, wondering what betrayal he'd committed, all unknowing, that had turned Alec against everything they'd ever believed in.
125 Wait(ing)
Alec adjusted his bow tie, and ran one hand through his hair. One last check of his tuxedo, and he was ready. No one gave him a second look. He might as well have been invisible, as slipped the poisoned champagne flute in with the others and headed for the table.
In the chaos that followed the Prime Minister's collapse, he slipped out to the patio. James glanced over the edge of the menu. "You look -- "
"If you're say 'like a waiter,' I'm going to kill you."
"I was about to say, you look good enough to eat."
168 Straight
Watching the two mollies stagger along the street, Alec feels nothing but contempt. If he should step out into their path, swing a fist, there would be nothing they could do about it. Except scream, and maybe try to slap him.
They're not like him. More importantly, he's not like them. (Even if he is fucking James.) He's a man, he's a bloody secret agent, and anyone who called him a molly or a faggot would end up on their back, nursing a bloody nose.
There's a sick churning in the pit of his stomach, and he needs a drink.
171 Wound/Wounded
Direct pressure.
Treat for shock.
Keep him talking.
"James, stay with me." Bloody hell, he's never been good at this. "James, tell me about -- about the mission." Stupid, stupid, but it's too serious for banter, and suddenly, with James' blood flowing out over his hands, he's tongue-tied.
"Went fine, except for the girl," James murmurs.
And Alec is suddenly jealous. "She's the one who shot you, remember?"
And this is not the place and it's definitely not the time (not that there is an appropriate situation) to realize that somewhere along the line he's fallen hard for James Bond.
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James Bond/Alec Trevelyan
Summary: thirteen unconnected drabbles
For slashthedrabble's prompt 177: old challenges revisited
Warnings: sex and violence
Word Count: 100 x 13
X-Posted: were_lemur, forengland, bond_slash, slashthedrabble
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
My FanFic Masterlist
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other recognizable characters mentioned in this fic. James, Alec, etc. are all property of Ian Fleming and MGM. I'm just playing with them for a while. Not making any money, don't have any money, please don't sue!
003 Out Loud
"We're not in a safe house now," Alec said, his voice the epitome of reason. "We're not in the back of a truck, or enemy territory, or somewhere we're supposed to be."
"True," James said. "Unfortunately, the habits of a lifetime -- "
"Can be suspended when we're in this very nice hotel," Alec said.
"The other guests might object."
"They'll probably enjoy the show." He twisted his greased fingers deeper. James arched, and bit his lip. "Because I promise you, one way or another, before we check out tomorrow morning, I am going to make you scream out loud.
026 Stormy
"Move over," Alec grumbled, trying to wedge himself deeper in the space between the two boulders. "It's dripping right on the back of my neck."
James moved to accommodate him, and then pulled him down. Alec found himself unable to breathe. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one racing through his nervous system. His skin tingled as if lightning was about to strike, his blood roared in his ears like thunder.
He wasn't sure how the beginnings of an erection fit into the metaphor, but there it was. Embarrassed, he shifted his hips so James wouldn't feel it.
033 Kink
"Roses?" Alec asked, studying the box that sat in the center of the table. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Later," James murmured. "I'm expecting a pretty little heiress to a shipping company that may be involved in smuggling. A virgin, probably."
"But not for long," Alec said, "when 007 is on the job."
"Jealous?" James asked.
"God, no," Alec murmured. He shoved his trousers and briefs down in one movement, then bent over the back of the couch to show James that the butt plug he'd inserted the night before was still securely in place. "You know I prefer the thorns."
050 Rough
A week in the wilderness, and neither of them are looking -- or smelling -- their best. James can think of nothing he wants more than a shower. Still, he can't help imagining the rough texture of Alec's stubble. How it would feel under his fingers if he kissed him, how it would scrape against his lips.
Against his chest. His belly. How it might feel if his cock brushed Alec's cheek.
He realizes that he's hard just thinking about it, and that Alec is staring. And he can almost imagine that it's hunger, not amusement, behind that unreadable smile.
059 Escape
"This way," Alec whispered. "I remember it from the map."
"Surely the streets would be faster," James protested.
"I heard on the radio -- they've got roadblocks up." He leaned forward just enough to make sure no one was watching. "But the old tunnels are only passable on foot."
"We'll have to make our own way to the extraction point," James pointed out.
"The walk will do us good. Give us a chance to get our stories straight."
"I wasn't the one who tried to steal a sailboat."
Alec grinned. "Well, I thought you said you wanted a romantic getaway."
068 Green
James knew he had it bad when he spent the whole of an interminable meeting trying to figure out the exact color of Alec's eyes.
Emerald was right out -- no one had emerald eyes outside of those silly romances his latest secretary read when he thought she wasn't looking.
Grass was too yellow, and too common besides.
Sea green was too muted, lincoln green was too dark, kelly green was just silly.
Finally, he decided. Someone needed to write the color chart chaps and tell them that they needed to add a new color, and call it Alec's eyes.
071 Masks
By the time they've both showered and dressed, Alec's mask was fully back in place. He was once again the secret agent, suave, handsome, deadly. James knew it well, it was the one he'd worn most of the time for what seemed like all of his life.
But lately, he wanted to pry into those cracks that sometimes appeared, unexpectedly, in Alec's mask.
Not that he'd ever do it. Alec deserved that much. And besides, if he did unmask Alec, he'd have to reciprocate. And he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror.
117 Heroes
It had been a long time since Alec had thought of himself as a hero.
He didn't remember exactly when the change had happened; there had been no epiphany, so line that divided everything into before and after. Just the gradual erosion of everything he believed in.
Except James.
James still believed in an England that was worthy of his service, his life, and most of the time, Alec envied him. Patriotism made him something more than an assassin.
But Alec had found his own purpose. And when he told James "for England," what he really meant was "for you."
123 Sweet and/or Sour
James staggered through the door, chilled to the bone and exhausted to the point of pain. The mission had been bad enough -- the debriefing had been the killer. He knew damn well he'd fucked up, without M pounding the point home for seven bloody hours.
When the doorbell rang, he almost didn't answer it. Only the last, reflexive vestiges of courtesy dragged him away from the promise of sleep.
It was Alec.
"If M sent you -- "
"He didn't," Alec said, and shoved a box from the Chinese takeaway into James' hands. "Someone needs to watch your back."
124 Betrayal
He'd always thought he could forgive Alec everything, except dying. Until the day they faced each other as enemies.
And James had emerged victorious.
Hadn't he?
He'd saved England, at least. Though it was days before he drank enough vodka martinis to wash the taste of ashes from his mouth.
Eventually, he managed to convince himself that he had won. That it had all turned out for the best. Even though sometimes, even years later, he would find himself lying awake at night, wondering what betrayal he'd committed, all unknowing, that had turned Alec against everything they'd ever believed in.
125 Wait(ing)
Alec adjusted his bow tie, and ran one hand through his hair. One last check of his tuxedo, and he was ready. No one gave him a second look. He might as well have been invisible, as slipped the poisoned champagne flute in with the others and headed for the table.
In the chaos that followed the Prime Minister's collapse, he slipped out to the patio. James glanced over the edge of the menu. "You look -- "
"If you're say 'like a waiter,' I'm going to kill you."
"I was about to say, you look good enough to eat."
168 Straight
Watching the two mollies stagger along the street, Alec feels nothing but contempt. If he should step out into their path, swing a fist, there would be nothing they could do about it. Except scream, and maybe try to slap him.
They're not like him. More importantly, he's not like them. (Even if he is fucking James.) He's a man, he's a bloody secret agent, and anyone who called him a molly or a faggot would end up on their back, nursing a bloody nose.
There's a sick churning in the pit of his stomach, and he needs a drink.
171 Wound/Wounded
Direct pressure.
Treat for shock.
Keep him talking.
"James, stay with me." Bloody hell, he's never been good at this. "James, tell me about -- about the mission." Stupid, stupid, but it's too serious for banter, and suddenly, with James' blood flowing out over his hands, he's tongue-tied.
"Went fine, except for the girl," James murmurs.
And Alec is suddenly jealous. "She's the one who shot you, remember?"
And this is not the place and it's definitely not the time (not that there is an appropriate situation) to realize that somewhere along the line he's fallen hard for James Bond.