FIC: MARS Corporate Christmas Party (1/1)
Title: MARS Corporate Christmas Party
Summary: Movie-verse. Supposed to be a festive-season fic but I didn't finish it in time.
Zartan swaps Rex's pain meds with something special, and McCullen gets drunk.
Rating: NC-17 for smut.
Warnings: Smut, drugs and alcohol, Lady Gaga
Notes:
This community is so dead but I still love it anyway. Hoping the new GI Joe movie will breathe some life into it since Renegades got cancelled before it got the chance to breed many plotbunnies or a slash fandom.
James McCullen tapped his monogrammed ballpoint pen on the edge of his desk. He’d been dreading the annual MARS Industries end of year office party all afternoon. The event was only vaguely Christmas themed, kept non-denominational in accordance with company policy.
Despite his pride in his heritage, James did not have any family he wished to spend the holiday with.
As a show of solidarity with his staff, unable to return home to their families due to contractual obligations and the isolation of the base, James would endure the boredom of their company for just one evening.
Despite his efforts to host a sedate affair, every year many of his employees got shamelessly drunk and embarrassed themselves with brawls or torrid affairs.
Every year James wondered if it was worth it for the sake of tradition and morale. Every year he cared less about employee morale until tradition was the only thing saving the event from cancellation. James McCullen was a man with a strong sense of the value of tradition.
The party had been underway for two hours when James reluctantly pulled himself away from his office, walking briskly to his private quarters to shave and change his clothes. He slipped into the function room unannounced and by the time he’d fixed himself a drink he already wanted to leave.
Surveying the room he noted the conspicuous absence of his higher ranking personnel.
Storm Shadow hadn’t even bothered to return his RSVP declining the invitation. Earlier, the Baroness had placed hers on James’ desk with a flourish, stating she’d be spending the weekend with her husband in Lyon.
Predictably, Zartan was present and moving through the crowd like a hungry shark.
Sipping intently on his scotch, James drifted to a quiet corner of the room before he could get ensnared in any dull conversations. He had no real love of mingling with people unless he wanted something from them, which made conducting much business a chore. Iron mongers are not generally well regarded so he had never put much stock in spurious pleasantries.
From his new vantage point he took a moment to marvel at his personal assistant, who by contrast revelled in moving through a crowd.
Those who had been working in the base longer were able to make excuses to slip away like minnows when Zartan approached, but many hesitated a moment too long and became trapped by his conversation. His toothy smiles and slick compliments got under their skin, making them feel unclean.
James quirked an eyebrow in surprise when he spotted Rex chatting amicably with the intern responsible for cleaning the snake tanks, a fellow herpetology enthusiast. Since his release from the infirmary, Rex had only recently begun to venture outside the labs for anything more than necessity, despite James’ efforts to make him feel comfortable and at home.
He knew the young man was still self-conscious about his appearance, refusing to take food and drink in the presence of others.
He could smile so delightfully with his one good eye when it wasn’t fixed in fierce concentration. James enjoyed seeing that smile. He felt a tug of guilt looking at Rex, feeling partly responsible for his...accident.
James respected his desire to remain anonymous as ‘the Doctor’. He had been such a fine-looking young man...James imagined he couldn’t bear to return to his friends and family in his current state. In a sense, Captain Rex Lewis really was dead.
Downing his current glass, James moved to pour himself another serving of 30 year old Glenfiddich whisky, neat, to help alleviate the ill mood settling over him like a fog. A few hours earlier he’d lost a lucrative contract to a change of heart and the spirit of Christmas. James didn’t like Christmas. Goodwill to men was bad for business.
A small squad of neo-vipers were positioned around the edge of the room, and some courageous soul had had placed the paper hats from inside party crackers on their heads. The little colourful crowns looked grotesque above their glassy black insectoid eyes.
The soldiers acted more as decorations than guests, but their sombre presence seemed to subdue the other party goers. When Rex had issued them with armour he had failed to provide a dress uniform, but James preferred the skull-like helmets to seeing their disconcertingly blank expressions.
He pretended not to know that Rex had used the uniform budget surplus to acquire an Oxyuranus Temporalis. Rex’s intelligence had been wasted on the military, and he seemed to flourish under the guidance and substantial financial backing of MARS Industries. As he was a dedicated scientist and kept long hours in the lab, James could forgive him the oversight.
***
Some minor lab technician sidled over to James and engaged him in idle banter, but James wasn’t really paying attention. He wondered blithely if they could budget to have everyone on the staff injected with mind-controlling nanomites. At least it would be quieter.
Across the room, the snake-tending intern had wandered away and Rex was eyeing James with the same predatory leer Zartan gave the blonde lab techs. James turned away and pretended not to notice, but he could still feel Rex’s gaze on his body like invisible hands. It gave him goosebumps whenever their eyes met, which happened too often to be accidental.
Although he tried not to think about it, James was acutely aware of Rex’s presence as he pretended to be interested in the banal lives of his employees, who had noticed his presence and now made themselves impossible to avoid.
Staff he couldn’t recall the names of cautiously chatted with him and James promptly forgot any complaints and suggestions they hinted at within seconds of hearing them. A faint throbbing started behind his eye sockets. Perhaps it had been unwise to skip dinner.
Rex stood in a corner with his hands behind his back, only bothering to talk to people who approached him first. He wasn’t popular amongst the other staff, but this did not seem to bother him. He watched James fixedly, who could only barely contain his disdain for his interlocutors.
Although Rex found much of the base unpleasantly cool, he appreciated the opportunity to see James wearing double-breasted vests and fine wool fabrics. Today James was wearing what Rex assumed was a new suit, for he hadn’t seen it before; a deep charcoal with a Prussian blue shirt. Rex was fascinated by the drape of the cloth, the way James moved, a little stiff with fatigue but ever graceful. For a moment Rex’s gaze was hooked on his shoes, impeccably polished black brogues. Rex wondered if James polished them himself, they seemed too perfect to have been trusted to an intern.
‘Our man is looking sharp tonight, isn’t he?’ Zartan slapped Rex on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince in pain and fail to notice Zartan’s hand slip inside his coat pocket. Rex glared at Zartan wordlessly, secretly chiding himself for letting his staring become so obvious. He didn’t know how else to hide it though, he wasn’t there for the cheap champagne and canapés.
Rex fidgeted with his gloves. Gloves James had gifted him with the day before, sweetly awkward in his delivery of the matte black box. Rex lost himself for a moment in the memory of James’ smile, an expression so rarely warm and not arch or calculating. Zartan shrugged when he noticed the vague look in Rex’s eye and moved away to catch a young female accountant who had stopped by the punch bowl. The Christmas present Zartan had received from James was an envelope stuffed with unmarked bills and vague praise about the lack of sexual harassment cases this year. Zartan had been delighted.
James mingled and practiced his ability to recall small unimportant details about the lives of his more favoured employees in order to make them feel he cared, flawlessly faking it when he couldn’t even remember what they did. The pressure behind his eyes increased to a proper throbbing headache. Time for more whisky. The boredom of listening to his staff’s inane chatter was becoming physically painful. He resisted the desire to check his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
James noticed Rex fidgeting with his new gloves. He felt a pang of worry that Rex disapproved of them, found them uncomfortable. He tried to avoid looking over at him but in-between recycling the same cautiously optimistic tripe about the coming year, he couldn’t stop his attention from wandering. Maybe Zartan was right to accuse him of doting, no matter how valuable Rex was to the company.
At 9pm exactly, without needing to check the time, James watched as Rex briefly slipped out of the room to take his pain medication in private. If James had known Zartan had replaced Rex’s analgesics with his own special concoction, he may have been able to avoid being the centrepiece of the annual Christmas party sex scandal.
***
Some time and several more glasses of scotch later, James noticed he had begun to slur his words a little, but it was still too early to leave the party, that would be bad form.
Sitting down seemed sensible. He found a chair in a poorly lit corner of the room, turning just in time to see Rex slip back in to the room. There was something unnervingly hungry in his expression. James wondered if it was due to Rex’s previous pain medication ceasing to be effective before his evening dose kicked in.
James studied his glass intently, trying to remember how many drinks he’d had. It was unusual for him not to be able to easily recall important details. He’d been feeling off his game all day. He couldn’t tell the difference between the throbbing headache and the pulse of cheesy electronic pop music anymore.
James almost jumped when Rex appeared behind him and slid his hands on top of James’ shoulders. James swallowed.
‘Too much to drink my dear?’ Rex whispered.
Rex’s slender fingertips dug into his shoulders and James was unsure how to react.
He wasn’t usually the one receiving unwanted attention, although he had never been anything but a gentleman with Anna.
Gloved fingers ghosted across the back of James’ neck, but grew bolder when he did not flinch or move away.
My dear? he endearment raised a red flag in James’ mind, but he couldn’t muster the concentration to pursue it.
With Rex’s massaging caress the noise of chatter and annoying electronic pop music eased along with the pain in his head. James found it difficult to focus on anything, grappling for an excuse to get up and walk away but unable to find one.
Rex wordlessly convinced him to remove his coat to better access his shoulders. It was improper behaviour, but James couldn’t bring himself to tell Rex to stop even then. James hadn’t realised how tense he had been until Rex began to tirelessly melt away the knots in his muscles with practiced hands. As he became more relaxed, his inner voice of dissent at this inappropriate contact also quietened.
At some point Rex moved away and his glass was refilled.
Rex trailed his hands over James’ chest, gracefully moving around in front of the chair to slip into James’ lap. James was surprised by how little Rex weighed, reaching out instinctively to slip his hands inside his open coat, holding his hips steady. Rex had such a delicate, narrow frame and James traced circles into the bone with his thumbs appreciatively. This caused Rex to lean forward into the touch slightly, his eyes half lidded and downcast slightly, gaze seemingly hooked on James’ tie pin.
‘Let’s play a love game.’ James realised Rex was echoing the words of the music playing in the background. If you could call it music.
Rex ground against him in time with the music, his coat hanging open to reveal his tight bodysuit. Although James had assumed Rex must wear some such garment under his coat, he hadn’t imagined it to be so revealing in its tightness, covered in an intricate web of straps and buckles.
He opened his mouth to make a comment about what the suit resembled but managed to think better of it and stopped himself before he could offend the scientist. Instead James swallowed and noticed the tightening in Rex’s pants.
Rex was panting slightly, and his arousal was growing increasingly obvious.
Rex gave a small growl and James started, realising he’d been staring. This sobered him up enough to realise they were in a very inappropriate position in a very public place.
He squirmed to indicate that Rex should untangle himself. Rex slithered of him easily, and James was taken aback by the fluidity of the motion. Too confused and aroused to object, he let Rex grab him by the wrist and pull him towards the exit.
Suddenly Rex was pushing the door of James’ private quarters closed and locking them. Disorientated, James could not recall travelling there, but that fact lost its importance when Rex’s warm body pressed against him.
Elsewhere, Zartan was cackling like a hyena.
***
Rex shrugged his coat off into the floor, and cocked his hips. Using slow, deliberate motions he pulled the gloves off both his scarred hands before pressing back in close to James. The backs of his hands showed the subtle bite of fire, but he had fallen on them after the explosion, and they had escaped the worst of the damage to his body.
James massaged his wrist with his thumbs, and Rex made a throaty sound like a purr.
After a moment, Rex lifted his hands to James’ mouth. James trailed his tongue over the palm of Rex’s hand , who slipped his fingers past his lips. James sucked on them obligingly; realising with Rex’s half lidded expression that this was the equivalent of an intimate kiss. When Rex pushed against him and moaned, James couldn’t deny his own growing erection. Reason abandoned him to be left only with a fierce need. His world shrank to Rex and the heat between them.
James pushed Rex over his desk, forgetting to be gentle. Rex let out a small grunt of pain which James didn’t notice. The desk was cold and hard under his back and Rex’s neck hurt straining to look up at James, but he was burning with a chemically induced lust so strong he couldn’t bring himself to care. Zartan had been thoughtful enough to add to his medication and not substitute it, as otherwise pain would have obliterated his arousal. His hands groped weakly at James’ waist.
James pushed himself between Rex’s legs urgently, pushing against his groin with his own. Rex didn’t like lying on his back, helpless. It reminded him of lying in a hospital bed. He forgot his discomfort when James finally managed to free him from his pants, after a long minute of fumbling with the complex belts and catches.
Rex’s respirator beeped a reminder for him to keep his breathing steady and clicked automatically into a higher gear to accommodate his shaky panting.
Propping himself up on one elbow, James gripped Rex’s wrist and continued to rub the sensitive skin there. Rex moaned wantonly at the contact.
James easily undid his own fly and grabbed the both of them firmly in his hand, stroking urgently.
He leaned in close to Rex, breathing heavily against his neck, his own chest resting against Rex’s, making him wheeze a little with the pressure.
Rex’s mind was clouded with the effect of the drugs, but he felt a smug satisfaction at the needy desperation in James’ movements, the unmistakable desire.
James wasn’t thinking anything at all, but feeling a heady mix of powerful arousal tinted with disgust. Despite his disfigurement, Rex was squirming beneath him in an agonisingly erotic way, moaning his name.
Without losing his rhythm he released Rex’s wrist to roughly hike up his protective shirt up over his stomach, exposing the relatively unblemished milk-white skin there.
Desperately he increased the tempo of his strokes until he spilled his seed all over Rex’s stomach with a shudder. Able to focus more fully on Rex now, he noticed him squirm in discomfort when his hand slipped towards the base of his shaft, his groin scarred and hairless.
He let his warm hand trail up Rex’s thigh, making him gasp. Teasing Rex’s head with his thumb, he sped up his pace when Rex’s fingers dug into his hips. Rex’s breath hitched and he almost choked as he came, a small amount of fluid mixed with James’ own against fragile soft skin.
James had not smoked in over a decade but felt a desire to light up as strong as if he had only quit the day before. His headache was easing but he felt exhausted and slightly nauseas. Feeling unsteady on his feet and so very tired, he turned away to absently tuck himself back into his pants. His mind remained stubbornly blank, refusing to commit what it was perceiving to memory.
He was half aware of firm hands guiding him into the peace of his own bedchamber.
James did not remember what happened next, falling in to sleep.
He dreamed.
Rex was showing him his latest snake acquisition; it slithered wetly around the tank and didn’t look like any reptile on earth. He was aware of Rex standing uncomfortably close beside him as he reached out to stroke the monster.
The dream faded but the click and drag of Rex’s respirator did not. James pulled his mind into reluctant wakefulness. Before he even opened his eyes he knew he could actually hear the scientist breathing nearby.
He opened his eyes and took stock of his body and its location. Lying naked in his own bed, everything seemed in order except for one thing. Rex was sleeping heavily beside him, wearing nothing but the specialised body suit he wore under all his clothes.
James calmly walked to the side of the room and threw himself out the window. Except his bedroom didn’t have any windows so instead he just pinched the bridge of nose and hoped Rex didn’t wake up. James hadn’t drunk that much since the Williamstown incident. For the fourth time in his life he swore off alcohol forever.
Rex stirred in his sleep and James held his breath until he settled again without waking. He had seemed cold, even under the blankets.
James slipped soundlessly out of the bed and turned up the heating, although he already felt uncomfortably warm. He padded towards the bathroom and into the shower. As he ran his fingers through his hair, he tried desperately to remember what had happened the night before, but the harder he tried the further it slipped away from him.
He eventually pulled himself away from the cool water and stood in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist. The sight that was waiting for him was unexpected.
His clothes had been laid out neatly on the bed, and Rex was sitting on the end of it. Rex snapped shut his shoe polishing kit and set it aside. He must have been in the shower longer than he thought.
‘Good morning.’ He said, smiling with his one good eye. James stared balefully at the far wall and its lack of windows for a moment.
‘Rex...’ James started.
Rex’s expression hardened.
‘You don’t remember what happened, do you?’ he said flatly.
James grappled for an answer, but Rex interrupted.
‘I suppose it’s for the best, my own behaviour was...less than desirable. Please excuse me, but I have to go slip some rat poison into Zartan’s morning coffee.’
James was still standing in the doorway trying to find words, any words.
‘I can come by later to make up for it...you have a gap in your schedule at 1500 hours.’ Mischievous smile again. The door clicked shut before James could answer.