Goldeneye fic
Title: The enemy
Author: Iolana Khenemet (siobhan@gmx.net)
Fandom: James Bond (Goldeneye)
Rating: R
Summary: On the train in Russia from Ourumov’s POV
Warnings: a bit of dirty language, slash (a slight hint of former Alec/James slash, Ourumov/Alec implied), a reference to non-consensual though not shown, mild violence
Feedback: desired, critical comments highly welcome
Betas: none (if you’d like to volunteer, drop a line)
Disclaimer: James Bond is the creation of Ian Fleming. The characters in the story are the property of Ian Fleming and the filming companies that produce Bond Films (United Artists, MGM, Eon). No copyright infringement intended. No profit is gained by this work.
Copyright: Jan 2004
Comments: I had a discussion once. We both felt that Ourumov could not break Alec since he was not portrayed as a strong enough character. However, I felt tempted to write this and explore the possibility that Ourumov had a stronger character at the time Archangelsk exploded than when seen later…
- Do you even know who the enemy is? Do you?! -
(Ourumov to Mishkin)
Ourumov recovered from the shock of the train impacting with the tank and grabbed Siminova, as she entered his wagon. His eyes narrowed, when the doors stayed closed. Why weren’t Xenia or Alec pursuing her? He pressed the gun barrel against her temple and leant close to her ear. “Make a sound and it was your last.”
With a whimper she obeyed.
It had to be Bond. Somehow he had entered the wagon before either Alec or Xenia could react. Arkady would have a little chat with his whore about reaction times later. A none too pleasant talk, he vowed.
Since he didn’t know the situation, all he could do was wait. Not for long though, then his radio transmitted Alec’s voice: “Ourumov, bring her in!”
The tension in her body increased. Her sweat smelled of fear, and he savoured it. Arkady had always been aroused by other people’s pain and fear. He shoved her forward. “Move!”
As they entered, Ourumov surveyed the situation at once. The British spy had his back towards him and was pointing a machine gun at both Alec and Xenia. So everyone held the whore of the other at gunpoint. Siminova was the only bargaining chip Arkady had. Bond inclined his head slightly. Good, so he had heard them enter.
The British operative was a fool. Whatever he did, he would loose; either his recent lover or the ex, which Arkady had snatched away from him and made his own nine years ago. What an irony to see the man, whose name had escaped Trevelyan’s lips in long hours of pain and suffering, point a gun at him now.
The moment Alec’s last defenses had crumbled away had been the most erotic moment in Arkady’s life. He had delivered the final blow when the British spy had been at his weakest. His cock throbbed and erected at the mere memory…
In no uncertain terms Arkady had made it clear that he controlled Trevelyan’s fate, his survival and well-being. Only he could protect him from his fate: being turned over for medical experimentation. With this threat in mind, Trevelyan had panicked when they had placed him on an examination table and shown him his small intestine with only a local anesthetic applied. His resistance had ceased to exist and he had turned to Ourumov in despair.
A bond had formed and with further carefully chosen conditioning, Trevelyan had become dependent on him. What Ourumov previously had to take by force, he had now offered on his own free will: his body. Ah, his first half-hesitant touch of Ourumov’s genitals and the whispered endearments into his captor’s ears in nights of passion. Alec was his to fuck, wherever, whenever and however Ourumov wanted. No more resistance; an obedient slut.
Siminova moved and Arkady licked his lips. He was tempted to break the woman as well.
A decade was a long time and if he wouldn’t still need his whore and his abilities…
He nodded to Alec to begin the game.
“So, we’re back to where we started, James. The friend or the mission?” Alec paused to let the words sink in for a moment.
How ironic to see the interplay between the two ex-lovers. The way Alec said ‘James’ was a mixture of taunt, hatred and something else Arkady could not define. What a contrast to the times he had screamed for his friend to rescue him. The first time Ourumov had taken him without consent and told his captive, ‘I know what’s good for you, Alec,’ all Alec sobbed was, ‘James’.
He was ripped out of the memory as Alec continued, “Drop the gun, I let her live.”
Bond stared at his former friend and without turning his eyes of his captives, he asked, “Ourumov, what has this Cossack promised you?”
Arkady looked at him. So Bond was trying to drive a wedge between them by bringing up ethnicity. Clever, he had to admit though Bond missed the fact who really was the one in control.
“You knew, didn’t you? He’s a Lienz Cossack.”
Knew? Ourumov wanted to laugh into Bond’s face and say, ‘You know I was the one who pushed the truth into your lover’s face when he was helpless.’ The memory of it was fresh, as if it had only been days ago. Trevelyan, weak, disoriented and wounded by the gunshot and explosion, shaking his head in disbelieve and pain when confronted with his ancestry. One of the many things Arkady had used to peel away layer after layer of resistance until he had seen hope die like a fading light in those green eyes. Shortage of food and sleep had done their share to his breakdown as well.
“It’s in the past...” Alec reminded.
The British elite spy continued, “He’ll betray you! Just like everyone else.”
Ourumov felt a rush of triumph. Bond felt hurt and betrayed. All he now saw in his friend was the traitor. So Arkady hadn’t taken away Bond’s lover and turned him against him for nothing. Good, it served him right for blowing up Archangelsk and escaping. Alec was his instrument for power and revenge. Oh sweet victory…
The feeling was tainted by a sudden flash of doubt. Or not so sudden, he had to admit if he considered it. Something had changed over the years. Trevelyan seemed to have grown more and more self-reliant, more independent as Arkady liked his slut to be. ‘You drink too much, Grigorovich,’ one of his former friends had said. Was he right? And was he losing his tight control over Alec? It was time to shake Alec’s confidence, and put his slut in its place.
“Is this true?” Ourumov asked Alec
“What’s true is that in 48 hours you and I will have more money than God. And Mr. Bond here will have a small memorial service, with only Moneypenny and a few tearful restitutes in attendance. So, what’s the choice, James? Two targets, time enough for only one shot. The girl or the mission?”
Not the reply Ourumov had expected. Alec had answered and evaded him in the same moment. Most of what he said was directed at Bond, not him. He seethed. The meeting of the two men wasn’t enjoyable anymore.
Cold as ice, Bond answered, “Kill her. She means nothing to me.”
“See you in Hell, James,” Alec countered.
Before Ourumov could react, Bond turned and fired, all in one swift movement.
Arkady’s body was slammed back but he did not feel much. Then pain swept through him and darkness spread. This was wrong…
-fin-
Author: Iolana Khenemet (siobhan@gmx.net)
Fandom: James Bond (Goldeneye)
Rating: R
Summary: On the train in Russia from Ourumov’s POV
Warnings: a bit of dirty language, slash (a slight hint of former Alec/James slash, Ourumov/Alec implied), a reference to non-consensual though not shown, mild violence
Feedback: desired, critical comments highly welcome
Betas: none (if you’d like to volunteer, drop a line)
Disclaimer: James Bond is the creation of Ian Fleming. The characters in the story are the property of Ian Fleming and the filming companies that produce Bond Films (United Artists, MGM, Eon). No copyright infringement intended. No profit is gained by this work.
Copyright: Jan 2004
Comments: I had a discussion once. We both felt that Ourumov could not break Alec since he was not portrayed as a strong enough character. However, I felt tempted to write this and explore the possibility that Ourumov had a stronger character at the time Archangelsk exploded than when seen later…
- Do you even know who the enemy is? Do you?! -
(Ourumov to Mishkin)
Ourumov recovered from the shock of the train impacting with the tank and grabbed Siminova, as she entered his wagon. His eyes narrowed, when the doors stayed closed. Why weren’t Xenia or Alec pursuing her? He pressed the gun barrel against her temple and leant close to her ear. “Make a sound and it was your last.”
With a whimper she obeyed.
It had to be Bond. Somehow he had entered the wagon before either Alec or Xenia could react. Arkady would have a little chat with his whore about reaction times later. A none too pleasant talk, he vowed.
Since he didn’t know the situation, all he could do was wait. Not for long though, then his radio transmitted Alec’s voice: “Ourumov, bring her in!”
The tension in her body increased. Her sweat smelled of fear, and he savoured it. Arkady had always been aroused by other people’s pain and fear. He shoved her forward. “Move!”
As they entered, Ourumov surveyed the situation at once. The British spy had his back towards him and was pointing a machine gun at both Alec and Xenia. So everyone held the whore of the other at gunpoint. Siminova was the only bargaining chip Arkady had. Bond inclined his head slightly. Good, so he had heard them enter.
The British operative was a fool. Whatever he did, he would loose; either his recent lover or the ex, which Arkady had snatched away from him and made his own nine years ago. What an irony to see the man, whose name had escaped Trevelyan’s lips in long hours of pain and suffering, point a gun at him now.
The moment Alec’s last defenses had crumbled away had been the most erotic moment in Arkady’s life. He had delivered the final blow when the British spy had been at his weakest. His cock throbbed and erected at the mere memory…
In no uncertain terms Arkady had made it clear that he controlled Trevelyan’s fate, his survival and well-being. Only he could protect him from his fate: being turned over for medical experimentation. With this threat in mind, Trevelyan had panicked when they had placed him on an examination table and shown him his small intestine with only a local anesthetic applied. His resistance had ceased to exist and he had turned to Ourumov in despair.
A bond had formed and with further carefully chosen conditioning, Trevelyan had become dependent on him. What Ourumov previously had to take by force, he had now offered on his own free will: his body. Ah, his first half-hesitant touch of Ourumov’s genitals and the whispered endearments into his captor’s ears in nights of passion. Alec was his to fuck, wherever, whenever and however Ourumov wanted. No more resistance; an obedient slut.
Siminova moved and Arkady licked his lips. He was tempted to break the woman as well.
A decade was a long time and if he wouldn’t still need his whore and his abilities…
He nodded to Alec to begin the game.
“So, we’re back to where we started, James. The friend or the mission?” Alec paused to let the words sink in for a moment.
How ironic to see the interplay between the two ex-lovers. The way Alec said ‘James’ was a mixture of taunt, hatred and something else Arkady could not define. What a contrast to the times he had screamed for his friend to rescue him. The first time Ourumov had taken him without consent and told his captive, ‘I know what’s good for you, Alec,’ all Alec sobbed was, ‘James’.
He was ripped out of the memory as Alec continued, “Drop the gun, I let her live.”
Bond stared at his former friend and without turning his eyes of his captives, he asked, “Ourumov, what has this Cossack promised you?”
Arkady looked at him. So Bond was trying to drive a wedge between them by bringing up ethnicity. Clever, he had to admit though Bond missed the fact who really was the one in control.
“You knew, didn’t you? He’s a Lienz Cossack.”
Knew? Ourumov wanted to laugh into Bond’s face and say, ‘You know I was the one who pushed the truth into your lover’s face when he was helpless.’ The memory of it was fresh, as if it had only been days ago. Trevelyan, weak, disoriented and wounded by the gunshot and explosion, shaking his head in disbelieve and pain when confronted with his ancestry. One of the many things Arkady had used to peel away layer after layer of resistance until he had seen hope die like a fading light in those green eyes. Shortage of food and sleep had done their share to his breakdown as well.
“It’s in the past...” Alec reminded.
The British elite spy continued, “He’ll betray you! Just like everyone else.”
Ourumov felt a rush of triumph. Bond felt hurt and betrayed. All he now saw in his friend was the traitor. So Arkady hadn’t taken away Bond’s lover and turned him against him for nothing. Good, it served him right for blowing up Archangelsk and escaping. Alec was his instrument for power and revenge. Oh sweet victory…
The feeling was tainted by a sudden flash of doubt. Or not so sudden, he had to admit if he considered it. Something had changed over the years. Trevelyan seemed to have grown more and more self-reliant, more independent as Arkady liked his slut to be. ‘You drink too much, Grigorovich,’ one of his former friends had said. Was he right? And was he losing his tight control over Alec? It was time to shake Alec’s confidence, and put his slut in its place.
“Is this true?” Ourumov asked Alec
“What’s true is that in 48 hours you and I will have more money than God. And Mr. Bond here will have a small memorial service, with only Moneypenny and a few tearful restitutes in attendance. So, what’s the choice, James? Two targets, time enough for only one shot. The girl or the mission?”
Not the reply Ourumov had expected. Alec had answered and evaded him in the same moment. Most of what he said was directed at Bond, not him. He seethed. The meeting of the two men wasn’t enjoyable anymore.
Cold as ice, Bond answered, “Kill her. She means nothing to me.”
“See you in Hell, James,” Alec countered.
Before Ourumov could react, Bond turned and fired, all in one swift movement.
Arkady’s body was slammed back but he did not feel much. Then pain swept through him and darkness spread. This was wrong…
-fin-