The Bourne Ultimatum Slash fanfic - "Russia" - PART A
Title: Russia - PART A
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy & Ultimatum
Pairing: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, violence, angst, action, sex
Word count: approx. 12.300
Series: Unexpected - Part 2
Disclaimer: Not mine, but then, you knew that already. Because, hey, let's be honest, I would have done entirely different things with them if they were mine. And Bourne and Kirill would have had a lot more screen time together - and that not only chasing each other in cars... XD
Comment: This takes place right after “Truce”. It had been planned as one story, actually, but it became a wee bit long and the end of the movie was a good point to split it, so I did. This story focusses more on Kirill and I invented a lot of background for him which wasn't given anywhere. Oh, and I've never actually been to Russia and I don't speak Russian, so please don't kill me if not everything is correct... >_<
Summary: It was time to take care of Kirill's problems. So Jason followed him to Russia.
*********
“Will you commit yourself to the program?”
Light, bright and white, painful. A voice, dark and emotionless, getting under his skin, controlling his mind.
“You volunteered.”
Pain, so intense, fear, anger, helplessness.
“Are you too weak to see this through?”
Cold water in his mouth, his nose, his lungs, the need to cough overwhelming. Darkness everywhere, outside as well as inside him, taking over his mind, his body, his whole existence.
“What did he do?” - ”It doesn't matter.”
Exhaustion, bone deep, his eyelids so heavy that he can't keep them open. His head to heavy to hold it up, hanging down, his shoulders aching from sitting straight for too long. His limbs numb with fatigue, his mind blank.
“We didn't pick you. You picked us.”
“Jason!” He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him none too gently. “Wake up, Jason!”
That voice, he knew that voice. Dark, accented, familiar.
Kirill.
Jason opened his eyes and it took him a moment to orientate himself. He'd been leaning against the window of the passenger side of the car and his right arm was numb from the cold that seeped through the glass. It was light outside, the faint light of early morning, and the landscape was passing by outside of the window at an average speed.
“Where are we?” He rubbed his hand over his eyes in an attempt to sweep away the remains of the dream.
“Close to Boston.” Kirill replied and turned to give him short glance before he looked back at the street.
They'd stolen a car somewhere close to the shore and Jason had taken over the wheel because Kirill's leg hadn't been up for the effort. Not to mention that Jason had been able to tell that the Russian had badly needed a break, some hours of sleep and an opportunity to rest his right leg. So he'd made Kirill take the passenger seat and had begun to drive them out of New York City. It hadn't taken long for exhaustion to win over Kirill's body, but Jason was still secretly surprised that the Russian had actually fallen asleep next to him in the car while they were basically on the run. It told him that Kirill had either been way beyond his limits or that he trusted Jason more than the American had expected.
After about two hours, they had changed places and Kirill had taken over the wheel while Jason allowed himself to unwind in the passenger seat. He found that he actually did trust Kirill enough to dare to fall asleep next to him, so he embraced the sleep that had threatened to overwhelm him. He shouldn't have, because he didn't feel the least rested now, only torn by the memories he'd regained, by the things he had done, by the decisions he had taken. He didn't feel as if it had been him, it was as if it had been another person, as if it weren't his own memories. But he knew everything Dr Hirsch had said was true and that was the worst part of it. Jason had picked them.
It made him feel sick.
“Jason?” He turned at the sound of Kirill's voice, a tone to it that he was tempted to call worried.
Jason just shook his head once and turned to stare out of the window. “Let's find a place where we can sleep and clean up. And something to eat.”
“Da.”
They found a roadhouse some miles later which had a motel attached and Kirill pulled into the parking lot. Once they had taken a room, they went over to the diner and ordered something to take with them into the room. They were both not presentable enough to spend any longer period of time in the harsh light of the diner, their appearance would attract far too many eyes. And staying dead in the eyes of the CIA was their number one priority right now, so they needed to clean up and stay out of sight.
Jason sat down at the small table in the motel room, the plastic plate in his hands. “What do we do about your problem? Where do we start?”
Kirill looked up from his food and mustered him for a moment, as if he wasn't entirely certain if Jason was really serious about the question. Then he leaned back against the backrest of the old chair. “I wonder who actually set the assassin on me.”
Jason frowned. “It wasn't the FSB?”
“Not necessarily.” Kirill replied and shrugged. “My services were loaned to Gretkov at the time.”
“So you took out Landy's agent and his contact in Berlin, stole the money and the files and planted my fingerprint on his orders.” Jason summarised and held his gaze steadily on the Russian. He was a very difficult person to read, Jason couldn't say how he felt about their rocky background history. If he was entirely honest, Jason didn't really know how he himself felt about it.
The Russian nodded. “Da.”
“Then you were sent to Goa to finish the job by eliminating me.”
Kirill nodded again. Jason didn't say what was on his mind, what he knew Kirill was aware he was thinking. And you killed Marie instead of me.
***
“I hadn't meant to shoot her.” Kirill said suddenly, without really meaning to, and he immediately hated himself for having lost control over his mouth. Jason was looking at him with a gaze so intense Kirill wished he could take back his impetuous words. There was no sense in trying to excuse a hit, and he had never done it before. Had never thought about a job longer than the time it took to complete it. “I didn't know you had switched places.”
Jason's face was unreadable. “Would it have changed anything if you had known?”
Kirill was silent for a moment, even though he didn't really need to consider the answer. They both knew what it was going to be. “Niet.”
“You would have aimed for me, but she would have been collateral damage.” Jason said quietly. There wasn't any anger or pain in his voice, just simple understanding. “I have seen enough of this world to know how it works, Kirill. Innocent people get trapped in the wheels of the system, that's just how it is.”
Kirill didn't say anything, because there was nothing he could reply to that. It simply was the truth.
Jason was silent for a long moment, his expression pensive, and he poked with his fork in his food without really paying it any attention. When he spoke, his words were very quiet. “She was the reason.”
Kirill looked up from his own plate, a frown of confusion on his face. “What?”
“In Paris, you asked me why I hadn't pulled the trigger.” Jason replied with a sad smile. “She was the reason.”
Kirill felt another wave of profound confusion wash over him. He just didn't understand the American, didn't see his reasoning. “Why? I was the one who had shot her, after all.”
Jason swallowed visibly at the words, but the sad smile stayed on his lips. He looked straight at Kirill. “Right before your shot hit her, she told me that I always had a choice, that it was my decision which path to take.”
Kirill frowned. “I don't understand.”
“She wouldn't have wanted me to enter the spiral of revenge on her sake. She wouldn't have wanted me to pull the trigger. So I decided that I wouldn't.” Jason's eyes were focussed on him and Kirill felt a shiver run down his back. “It was the first time that I didn't shoot.”
Jason kept looking at him until Kirill became nervous - a feeling he hadn't had in so long that he almost didn't recognise it. Then Jason suddenly broke the gaze and turned back to his plate.
“So, how do we proceed?” The American's voice was casual. Kirill was grateful for the change of topic, because he was aware of the layers of meaning in Jason's words, but didn't know how to react to them, how to deal with his own reaction, with his confusion. Jason was most certainly one of the most confusing men Kirill had ever met.
“We fly to Moscow.” Kirill replied a moment too late, and Jason looked up to catch his gaze. He didn't say anything about whatever he saw in Kirill's eyes, though, he just ate another spoonful of rice.
“We have to fly soon. Once the story of today's events spreads over the media, there will be no way for me to get through the airport control without being recognised.”
Kirill nodded. “We drive to the airport, find a flight for tomorrow morning.”
Jason chewed and nodded. “How do we find out if it was the FSB or Gretkov who came after you?”
“It's not really important.” Kirill shrugged and took a bite of his pizza. “I failed my mission twice and went missing. The FSB will have a kill order on my head, even if that assassin in Tangier may not have been theirs.”
“So we basically have to take out both.”
“Da.” Kirill replied and was glad they were back in familiar territory.
Jason pushed his plate away and leaned back in the old chair. “Well, one main problem is that Gretkov is in prison. We can't get in there without a very high risk of getting trapped.”
“True.” Kirill inclined his head. “But if I kill Gretkov, the problem is solved.”
Jason raised and eyebrow and Kirill was sure there was a mean edge to it. “But what will make him suffer more - killing him or making him fall? Make him lose all his money, his power, his freedom?”
A smirk appeared on Kirill's face. He could see where Jason was headed. “Make him fall.”
“I still have a copy of the tape I sent to Landy.” Jason offered. Kirill looked at him thoughtfully, then he shook his head.
“It is not enough.” he said and frowned. “We need more. Something that will make him lose his case for good, so that he can't even get out with his expensive lawyers. Prison will not keep him from ruling his little empire. We have to cut his bonds to the exterior world.”
“And how do we do that?”
Kirill didn't even have to think about that. “Andrei Nemov. He is Gretkov's right hand. We kill him and we take Gretkov's power. He can't rule without somebody loyal to him outside of prison.”
Jason didn't look too happy about it, but he didn't object. “How?”
“It will have to look like an accident. Otherwise we'll raise the suspicion of the FSB.”
Jason nodded and fell silent for a moment. “And how do we make Gretkov lose the trial?”
“That is a good question.” Kirill said and ate the last bit of his pizza.
“The public persecution will most certainly be interested in your testimony.” Jason supplied. “You were a key figure in the operation. Your knowledge would definitely make Gretkov lose the trial. Which probably is the reason why he wants you out of the way.”
“Of course they are interested in it, but I cannot expect to leave the Police Headquarters alive once the FSB learns that I'm there to testify.” He just shrugged. “They won't hesitate to blow up the building if they have to.”
It wasn't exaggeration, and Kirill knew that Jason was well aware of it. Officially, it was going to be a gas leak or something similar, but the result would be the same. Many dead, not only Kirill. It wasn't a very tempting option.
Then a thought crossed Kirill's mind. “We need to get to Stanislav Vetrov.”
Jason looked at him quizzically. “Who is that?”
“He was the contact person for Gretkov in the FSB. The man who assigned me to him. He is the director of the department of International Affairs.” Kirill explained and leaned back in his chair. “A conversation between him and me should be enough to break Gretkov's defence.”
Jason nodded slowly. “That could work.”
Kirill looked up and caught Jason's gaze. “But I cannot risk leaving Vetrov alive.”
“Why?” There was a frown on Jason's face.
“He trained me. He will be able to trace my steps better than anybody else.”
Jason's lips were a thin line, but he nodded. “I see.”
“And I should be considered dead afterwards, too.” Kirill went on. “If there is any reason to think I am still alive, they will come after me again.”
Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Then you'll have to die. Just like I did a few hours ago.”
***
“Will you give yourself to this program?”
The light was back in his eyes, so bright, so angry.
“You said you would do anything it takes to save American lives.”
His body was so heavy. He couldn't move his limbs, there was just no strength left in him.
“Are you too weak?”
Pain, exhaustion. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, to never wake up again.
“You came to us.”
Water, in his nose, in his mouth, in his ears, his eyes. Silence, darkness, so complete. So absolute.
***
Kirill woke to the sound of choking, his body on instant alert, and he was out of bed with his gun ready before his mind had even realised what was happening. He scanned the room with all his senses, and all he found was Jason trashing on the bed at the other wall, making this dreadful sound again, as if he was drowning and desperately trying to get some air into his lungs. Kirill knew a panic attack when he saw one, he had lived through enough of them to recognise the signs immediately. He walked over to Jason, lowered his gun and placed it on the bedside table, then he took a firm hold on the trashing arms to avoid getting hit.
“Jason.” He let his voice sound calm and firm. “Jason. Breathe.”
Under his hands, he felt the muscles contract, felt the barely contained strength of Jason's trashing body and heard the choking sound again. Kirill knew had to get through to him quickly, he couldn't allow this to get any worse.
“Jason. Shhhh.” Kirill lowered his head until his mouth was close to Jason's hear, then he hushed gently, knowing that the sound had always calmed himself down. It seemed to work with the American as well, his harsh movements eased, his breathing slowed a little until he could get air into his lungs again. Suddenly, Jason's eyes snapped open, a haunted expression in them, and Kirill wondered what it had been that he had dreamt about. It couldn't have been a good memory.
The expression was replaced by confusion, a frown appearing on his face. “Kirill?”
“You had a panic attack.” Kirill explained and let go of Jason's wrists. He leaned back but remained seated on the edge of the bed. Jason rose, propped up on his elbows, still frowning, so Kirill added, “You were choking as if you were drowning.”
Kirill watched as Jason averted his gaze, swallowing once, twice, then he looked back up. “Special training.”
Kirill only nodded. He knew exactly what the American was talking about. Most special ops did.
Jason was silent for a long moment and Kirill just listened to his breathing. It slowly returned to normal and Kirill thought that he should move back to his own bed. It was the middle of the night and they still had some hours before they would leave. And they both needed all the rest they could get, their hunt was far from over.
“I don't know who I am.” Jason said suddenly into the quiet of the room, his voice reflecting several emotions that Kirill found difficult to place. “It's even worse than when I woke up without my memories. At least I didn't know I became their mere tool of my own accord, then.”
Kirill turned his gaze to where he could see Jason's face in the faint light coming through the window. There was a deep frown on the American's expression, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance.
“I am not David Webb anymore.” Jason went on, his voice was silent but determined. “David Webb wanted to become...” - Jason made a vague hand gesture at himself - ”...this. And ever since I woke up on that fishing boat in the Mediterranean Sea, I fought against them. And now I learn that I was my choice that made me into their assassin.”
***
Jason couldn't say why he felt the sudden urge to talk, but the thoughts had turned over and over in his head and he was certain that he was going to go crazy if he didn't put an end to his constant brooding. He felt split in two, as if there were several persons' memories in his head, some of which didn't feel like his own, even though he knew they were. He was confused and disgusted at what he had done, but most of all, he just couldn't understand how David Webb could have volunteered for the Treadstone program, knowing fully well what it entailed. It went against everything in Jason's nature and he wondered how he could ever have been that man. In a way, Webb was worse than what he'd become.
Jason stared into the distance, not really seeing anything. “I hate David Webb for this choice. I don't want to be him. I prefer to be Jason Bourne a hundred times.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that made him turn his head. He found his gaze caught by Kirill's eyes, their expression as honest and sincere as the Russian had always been with Jason.
“Then you are Jason Bourne.” Kirill said quietly and held his gaze steadily. “It is your choice.”
It was as if the words, the touch, broke his restraint, his firm grip on his control, on his discipline, and Jason felt as if he was falling apart, as if he was losing himself in the confusion, the hurt, the pain. He had leaned in and wrapped his arms around Kirill's waist before he had even realised what he was doing, his head hidden under Kirill's chin, his nose buried against the soft skin of his throat, closing his eyes and just soaking up the Russian's closeness. He allowed himself something he knew he had needed desperately ever since he'd seen Marie disappear in the murky water of the river.
Comfort. Simple comfort in the presence of another person.
After only a few seconds, he felt Kirill's arms come up around his shoulders, enfolding him in a firm embrace, and Jason took a deep breath and allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of safety, comfort and trust that surrounded him. He had never expected to find it in Kirill's arms.
Kirill lay down on the bed next to Jason, pulling the American with him, never loosening his embrace. They just lay there for a long time, making no move to separate, and Jason felt sleep take over. He was comfortable and relaxed, and right before he gave into the tempting darkness, he felt the soft press of lips against his temple.
***
Kirill didn't know what had possessed him when he had reached out to touch the American. It had been an instinct he hadn't experienced before, the sudden urge to comfort, to hold, to protect. He'd been surprised at Jason's instant reaction, as if the American had just needed a sign that he was allowed to touch. The moment Kirill had felt the arms around his waist, had realised how Jason clung to him, he hadn't been able to push him away. Hadn't wanted to. He'd been overwhelmed by this protectiveness again, so strong that it had almost taken his breath, and he'd just followed his instincts again and had enfolded Jason in a reassuring embrace.
Kirill knew he was losing control, was feeling too much for this American, for a man who should technically be his enemy. Yet he didn't know how to stop it, and his ingrained honesty towards himself made him admit that this went far beyond physical attraction. So when he felt Jason fall asleep in his arms, he hadn't been able to resist pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Jason had given a quiet noise and had cuddled up closer to him, obviously already lost in sleep.
Kirill hadn't been able to fall asleep for a long time.
When he woke early the next morning, Kirill took a moment to enjoy Jason's closeness, his warmth against Kirill's side. The American had thrown a leg over Kirill's in an almost possessive gesture, his hand fisted in Kirill's shirt, and he was breathing softly against the skin of Kirill's neck. He was so obviously comfortable this close to Kirill that it suddenly made Kirill nervous, unsure of what was happening here, of how he should react to it. He couldn't blame anything on any painkillers this time.
It was this emotional turmoil that made Kirill get out of bed so he was gone before Jason woke up.
***
Jason looked over the rim of his newspaper and gazed at Kirill, who was sitting in the row in front of him. Through the central gangway, Jason had a perfect view at the Russian's profile and he couldn't help watching.
What had happened last night? There had been no painkillers involved, and it hadn't been about desire, sex or satisfaction. He felt as if they had crossed a line when they'd just touched to be close, none of them making any attempt to turn it sexual. He couldn't exactly tell what line, but he was still sure of it. When he'd woken up to find Kirill already gone, taking a shower according to the sounds coming from the bathroom, Jason hadn't really been surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed, though.
The arrival of the stewardess interrupted his musings.
***
It was evening when they landed in Russia. The season hadn't changed much, it was still cold, but the snow had begun melting. Moscow was just as busy as it had been a few weeks ago. Jason hadn't expected to return here so soon.
“Where do we start?”
“We take out Vetrov.” Kirill looked down his clothes with a disdainful gaze. “But first, we need money for new clothes. Weapons. A car.”
“I assume you have ways to get everything on that list?”
Kirill looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Certainly.”
“And afterwards?” Jason asked and walked in a casual distance to Kirill through the airport building, enough to make them appear unconnected as long as cameras were present.
“We will get a suite in the Baltschug Kempinski.”
Jason frowned. “Isn't that a bit expensive? Not to mention the risks of the cameras?”
Kirill just shrugged. “I have the money for it. And I know the building, it is easy to get around the cameras. Furthermore, it's the last place where anybody will look for us.”
***
“Why am I not surprised?” Jason asked and looked over the sleek shape of the black Mercedes in front of him.
Kirill shrugged, but there was a smirk on his lips. “I have no idea.”
***
It was long past eleven pm when Kirill followed the hotel servant into the huge hallway of the suite and paid him a generous tip, but not too generous to attract any attention. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of one of the balconies and he let Jason in, who had taken the long way through the staircase that didn't have many cameras and over the roof. It was better for nobody to know that they'd arrived together.
Kirill watched Jason look around in the suite, his expression a mix of astonishment and scepticism. “I can't remember ever having stayed in such a rich place.”
Kirill allowed his amused smirk to show. “I like it from time to time.”
“It suits your love for huge, fast, expensive cars.” Jason said with a chuckle, turning around to face him.
The sound sent shivers down Kirill's spine. He couldn't help noticing Jason's strong body, clad in simple but elegant black trousers and a new shirt that hugged his torso very nicely, a smirk on his lips, a teasing glow in his eyes. He was beautiful, and Kirill knew he was falling fast. He was overwhelmed by the memories of Jason's body under him, his skin hot against his own, his voice hoarse with pleasure, his neck arched in ecstasy. And suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off the exposed line of Jason's throat that was accented by the cut of the shirt and he had to lick his suddenly dry lips. He saw blue eyes follow the movement of his tongue and knew he wasn't alone in this, that the shift in the atmosphere wasn't a figment of his imagination.
Until now he hadn't been certain how Jason felt about their shared night in Tangier, but when he saw the blue eyes wander over his body up to his face, the intense gaze finding his, darkening with want, he understood that Jason was as much under this incomprehensible spell as he was. It was a reassuring feeling, arousing even, and Kirill wanted to grab the American and take him right here and now, but he remained where he was, unmoving. He wanted to see if Jason would approach him, would initiate what they both knew they wanted.
A whole minute passed with them just staring at each other and Kirill felt the tension in the room rise to an unbearable level. Then Jason took a step forward, then another one, walking over to Kirill with almost feral elegance, slow and alert and predatory, and then a warm hand settled on Kirill's neck with firm pressure.
It almost made him snap.
***
He put his hand on Kirill's neck without giving it any conscious thought, but the moment he felt the warm skin under his fingertips, it was as if a shock coursed through his whole body and goosebumps spread over his skin. Jason's hold tightened and he found he couldn't avert his gaze from the stormy green eyes that had darkened with unmistakable desire. Their expression made a shiver of arousal run down his spine, it was exhilarating to see the effect his closeness had on the otherwise so controlled Russian, how this little touch brought him close to snapping. Jason was sure that it only needed little more and Kirill would grab him, press him into the next wall and kiss him senseless.
And Jason knew he wanted to feel the Russian's hands on his skin again, wanted the firm pressure of the taller body against his, wanted the hands to take hold of him, wanted to feel Kirill's strength. He was surprised to find that it was highly arousing for him to have a partner who was just as strong as him, who was his equal in mind and body, someone who could pin him down and hold him there. Somebody who wouldn't use this strength against him, who would release him the moment he asked.
Jason shivered with the realisation. Kirill had just as much effect on him as he had on the Russian, they were equals in this strange attraction. None of them was able to control it.
Jason couldn't tell what it was, but something must have broken Kirill's restraint, because suddenly there were hands on Jason's waist, shoving him backwards, then there was the wall in his back and a hot mouth on his. He returned the kiss, parted his lips to meet the intruding tongue, let his other hand come up to bury in Kirill's hair, pulling him close. Kirill growled into his mouth, his hips pressing against Jason's, his hands pulling Jason's shirt out of his trousers, finding their way underneath it, wandering over his skin.
Yes, this was it. This was what he wanted. Yet, it wasn't enough, not enough contact, not enough skin, so Jason let his hands brush under Kirill's jacket, pushing it off, then opening the buttons of the shirt, removing it, letting it fall somewhere behind the Russian without paying any attention to it. He felt Kirill's hands pushing up his own shirt, letting go of Jason's mouth only long enough to pull it over his head. Then the lips were back on his, hands were on Jason's waist, Kirill pressing his body against Jason's, skin meeting skin.
Jason let out a content groan. This was more what he'd had in mind. He felt Kirill's lips leave his, wandering down his jawline, his neck, biting his collarbone. There were hands on his belt, on his fly, then a hand slipped inside his trousers, taking hold of his erection, wrapping around it in a sure grip. Jason's head fell back to rest against the wall, his mind blanked, he could only feel. The hand moved along his shaft in a maddening slow movement and Jason pushed into the fist, letting out a frustrated little noise.
Kirill chuckled against the nipple he was nipping, licking, biting, and Jason writhed under the skilled hands, the tongue that made him lose his mind, the pleasure that had taken over his body. And he still wanted more.
Jason gathered all the concentration he had left and opened Kirill's trousers, pushing the fabric down his hips, then he cupped the nice backside and pulled Kirill's groin against his own. The friction was delicious, Kirill's hand automatically tightened its grip and Jason's hips bucked forwards.
“Bed.” he heard Kirill growl close to his ear, his voice so low that it felt like a caress. Jason only nodded, felt Kirill's hand let go of his erection to grab his hand, then he was led through the suite towards the equally impressing, huge master bedroom. They shed their trousers and shoes on the way, not caring the least where they landed, and Jason couldn't keep his gaze from trailing along the multicoloured bruises that still spread all over Kirill's body, some having begun to faint, others still standing out vividly. When Kirill pushed him down onto the kingsize mattress, there was no piece of clothing left to serve as a barrier between them.
The sheets were softer than anything Jason could remember ever feeling on his skin. The thought was lost as soon as he felt Kirill move over him, covering his whole body with his own, hot skin touching Jason everywhere. Kirill's lips found his again in a deep kiss, unhurried and thorough, as if he was exploring Jason's mouth, learning every curve. His hands travelled over the expanse of bare skin, caressing Jason everywhere he could reach.
The lips left Jason's mouth, wandered lower, over his throat and his shoulder to his right nipple, teasing it, then lower still, and Jason's eyes fell shut in pleasant anticipation. He wasn't disappointed, just a few seconds later, he felt the hot wetness of Kirill's tongue lick along the underside of his erection, trailing along the pulsing vein, then the mouth closed around the tip of his hardness. Kirill let his tongue swirl around him, his hand a steady, firm pressure on the base of his erection, his lips sliding teasingly along the sensible skin, and Jason could only groan in pleasure. Kirill certainly knew what he was doing.
Jason lost track of time, space, just everything besides the touch of Kirill's hands, his lips, his body. His arousal climbed higher and higher, yet Kirill kept him only close to the edge, never letting him pass over. Then his mouth let go of Jason's throbbing hardness, leaving him in a state of confused arousal. Firm hands took hold of Jason's hips and turned him onto his side, then the lips trailed up Jason's spine, soft licks and little bites, until they reached his shoulder, his neck. Kirill was pressed into his back, his hand passing in a teasingly soft caress over Jason's backside, along the inside of his thigh.
“Jason.” Kirill murmured against Jason's skin, accent thick in his voice. It was a silent question, asking for permission, making it clear that he wouldn't go any further if Jason didn't allow it. It was touching in its consideration, showing respect and care, and Jason's head fell back, allowing Kirill unrestricted access to his neck, raising his leg under the caressing hand, giving his answer without saying a word.
Kirill's lips fastened on his shoulder, his hands disappeared for a moment, then there was the cool touch of a slicked finger tracing Jason's opening in a teasing caress. For a second, Jason wondered where Kirill had managed to find lube, but then the finger pressed inside him, slowly and with careful pressure, and Jason's mind focussed on other things. The intrusion felt vaguely uncomfortable and Jason bit his lip, but then Kirill's finger passed over a spot inside him that made Jason see stars, made him lose all conscious thought and he could only arch his back, his mouth opening in surprise and releasing a hoarse groan.
He heard Kirill's low chuckle behind him, then the finger passed over that spot again, teasing him, and Jason raised his leg some more to grant Kirill better access. He stopped trying to control his voice, just let the sounds come, pressing back against the finger. Then there was a second one, accompanied by a slow burn that eased as soon as Kirill hit his prostate again and Jason just let himself fall into the pleasure, enjoying the feeling of being filled in a way he hadn't expected. He couldn't say if he'd done this before, didn't remember, but the feeling wasn't entirely new. There was something familiar about the sensation, something that made him suspect that this wasn't the first time.
Then the fingers retreated, only to be replaced by the slicked head of Kirill's erection, pressing against the loosened muscles of his entrance, sliding in oh so slowly. Jason gritted his teeth, there definitely was a difference in size to the fingers. He felt Kirill's hand caressing his stomach in a soothing pattern, heard his harsh panting close to his ear, felt the hot breath on the skin of his neck. Then the hand wandered lower, closed around his member, jerked him slowly, while the length of Kirill pressed in further and further. Jason bend his head, pressed his forehead to his arm, tried to control his breathing, relax his muscles.
Then Kirill pulled back and slid back in with a long, slow thrust, and the angle happened to be just perfect. He hit Jason's prostate and made him gasp, forgetting about the pain that he'd been hyperaware of only a second ago. Jason's head was thrown back now, resting on Kirill's arm, he was panting, pushing back into Kirill, meeting his every thrust fiercely, aiming for more friction, more contact, more pleasure. He thrust into the hand on his erection, then back on the hardness filling him, and he was lost to the world. Jason's one hand found its way to Kirill's hip, the other fisted into the sheets and he moaned deep in his throat.
Kirill's pace quickened, became irregular, his breath came in harsh, low growls against Jason's neck, then Kirill's hand closed over Jason's where it was twisted in the sheets, their finger entwined, and Jason pressed down hard when he came with a harsh groan. There was a pain in his shoulder and he felt Kirill bite him hard.
Then the world became white.
***
*** GO TO PART B***
***
Fandom: Bourne Supremacy & Ultimatum
Pairing: Jason Bourne/Kirill
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, violence, angst, action, sex
Word count: approx. 12.300
Series: Unexpected - Part 2
Disclaimer: Not mine, but then, you knew that already. Because, hey, let's be honest, I would have done entirely different things with them if they were mine. And Bourne and Kirill would have had a lot more screen time together - and that not only chasing each other in cars... XD
Comment: This takes place right after “Truce”. It had been planned as one story, actually, but it became a wee bit long and the end of the movie was a good point to split it, so I did. This story focusses more on Kirill and I invented a lot of background for him which wasn't given anywhere. Oh, and I've never actually been to Russia and I don't speak Russian, so please don't kill me if not everything is correct... >_<
Summary: It was time to take care of Kirill's problems. So Jason followed him to Russia.
*********
“Will you commit yourself to the program?”
Light, bright and white, painful. A voice, dark and emotionless, getting under his skin, controlling his mind.
“You volunteered.”
Pain, so intense, fear, anger, helplessness.
“Are you too weak to see this through?”
Cold water in his mouth, his nose, his lungs, the need to cough overwhelming. Darkness everywhere, outside as well as inside him, taking over his mind, his body, his whole existence.
“What did he do?” - ”It doesn't matter.”
Exhaustion, bone deep, his eyelids so heavy that he can't keep them open. His head to heavy to hold it up, hanging down, his shoulders aching from sitting straight for too long. His limbs numb with fatigue, his mind blank.
“We didn't pick you. You picked us.”
“Jason!” He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him none too gently. “Wake up, Jason!”
That voice, he knew that voice. Dark, accented, familiar.
Kirill.
Jason opened his eyes and it took him a moment to orientate himself. He'd been leaning against the window of the passenger side of the car and his right arm was numb from the cold that seeped through the glass. It was light outside, the faint light of early morning, and the landscape was passing by outside of the window at an average speed.
“Where are we?” He rubbed his hand over his eyes in an attempt to sweep away the remains of the dream.
“Close to Boston.” Kirill replied and turned to give him short glance before he looked back at the street.
They'd stolen a car somewhere close to the shore and Jason had taken over the wheel because Kirill's leg hadn't been up for the effort. Not to mention that Jason had been able to tell that the Russian had badly needed a break, some hours of sleep and an opportunity to rest his right leg. So he'd made Kirill take the passenger seat and had begun to drive them out of New York City. It hadn't taken long for exhaustion to win over Kirill's body, but Jason was still secretly surprised that the Russian had actually fallen asleep next to him in the car while they were basically on the run. It told him that Kirill had either been way beyond his limits or that he trusted Jason more than the American had expected.
After about two hours, they had changed places and Kirill had taken over the wheel while Jason allowed himself to unwind in the passenger seat. He found that he actually did trust Kirill enough to dare to fall asleep next to him, so he embraced the sleep that had threatened to overwhelm him. He shouldn't have, because he didn't feel the least rested now, only torn by the memories he'd regained, by the things he had done, by the decisions he had taken. He didn't feel as if it had been him, it was as if it had been another person, as if it weren't his own memories. But he knew everything Dr Hirsch had said was true and that was the worst part of it. Jason had picked them.
It made him feel sick.
“Jason?” He turned at the sound of Kirill's voice, a tone to it that he was tempted to call worried.
Jason just shook his head once and turned to stare out of the window. “Let's find a place where we can sleep and clean up. And something to eat.”
“Da.”
They found a roadhouse some miles later which had a motel attached and Kirill pulled into the parking lot. Once they had taken a room, they went over to the diner and ordered something to take with them into the room. They were both not presentable enough to spend any longer period of time in the harsh light of the diner, their appearance would attract far too many eyes. And staying dead in the eyes of the CIA was their number one priority right now, so they needed to clean up and stay out of sight.
Jason sat down at the small table in the motel room, the plastic plate in his hands. “What do we do about your problem? Where do we start?”
Kirill looked up from his food and mustered him for a moment, as if he wasn't entirely certain if Jason was really serious about the question. Then he leaned back against the backrest of the old chair. “I wonder who actually set the assassin on me.”
Jason frowned. “It wasn't the FSB?”
“Not necessarily.” Kirill replied and shrugged. “My services were loaned to Gretkov at the time.”
“So you took out Landy's agent and his contact in Berlin, stole the money and the files and planted my fingerprint on his orders.” Jason summarised and held his gaze steadily on the Russian. He was a very difficult person to read, Jason couldn't say how he felt about their rocky background history. If he was entirely honest, Jason didn't really know how he himself felt about it.
The Russian nodded. “Da.”
“Then you were sent to Goa to finish the job by eliminating me.”
Kirill nodded again. Jason didn't say what was on his mind, what he knew Kirill was aware he was thinking. And you killed Marie instead of me.
***
“I hadn't meant to shoot her.” Kirill said suddenly, without really meaning to, and he immediately hated himself for having lost control over his mouth. Jason was looking at him with a gaze so intense Kirill wished he could take back his impetuous words. There was no sense in trying to excuse a hit, and he had never done it before. Had never thought about a job longer than the time it took to complete it. “I didn't know you had switched places.”
Jason's face was unreadable. “Would it have changed anything if you had known?”
Kirill was silent for a moment, even though he didn't really need to consider the answer. They both knew what it was going to be. “Niet.”
“You would have aimed for me, but she would have been collateral damage.” Jason said quietly. There wasn't any anger or pain in his voice, just simple understanding. “I have seen enough of this world to know how it works, Kirill. Innocent people get trapped in the wheels of the system, that's just how it is.”
Kirill didn't say anything, because there was nothing he could reply to that. It simply was the truth.
Jason was silent for a long moment, his expression pensive, and he poked with his fork in his food without really paying it any attention. When he spoke, his words were very quiet. “She was the reason.”
Kirill looked up from his own plate, a frown of confusion on his face. “What?”
“In Paris, you asked me why I hadn't pulled the trigger.” Jason replied with a sad smile. “She was the reason.”
Kirill felt another wave of profound confusion wash over him. He just didn't understand the American, didn't see his reasoning. “Why? I was the one who had shot her, after all.”
Jason swallowed visibly at the words, but the sad smile stayed on his lips. He looked straight at Kirill. “Right before your shot hit her, she told me that I always had a choice, that it was my decision which path to take.”
Kirill frowned. “I don't understand.”
“She wouldn't have wanted me to enter the spiral of revenge on her sake. She wouldn't have wanted me to pull the trigger. So I decided that I wouldn't.” Jason's eyes were focussed on him and Kirill felt a shiver run down his back. “It was the first time that I didn't shoot.”
Jason kept looking at him until Kirill became nervous - a feeling he hadn't had in so long that he almost didn't recognise it. Then Jason suddenly broke the gaze and turned back to his plate.
“So, how do we proceed?” The American's voice was casual. Kirill was grateful for the change of topic, because he was aware of the layers of meaning in Jason's words, but didn't know how to react to them, how to deal with his own reaction, with his confusion. Jason was most certainly one of the most confusing men Kirill had ever met.
“We fly to Moscow.” Kirill replied a moment too late, and Jason looked up to catch his gaze. He didn't say anything about whatever he saw in Kirill's eyes, though, he just ate another spoonful of rice.
“We have to fly soon. Once the story of today's events spreads over the media, there will be no way for me to get through the airport control without being recognised.”
Kirill nodded. “We drive to the airport, find a flight for tomorrow morning.”
Jason chewed and nodded. “How do we find out if it was the FSB or Gretkov who came after you?”
“It's not really important.” Kirill shrugged and took a bite of his pizza. “I failed my mission twice and went missing. The FSB will have a kill order on my head, even if that assassin in Tangier may not have been theirs.”
“So we basically have to take out both.”
“Da.” Kirill replied and was glad they were back in familiar territory.
Jason pushed his plate away and leaned back in the old chair. “Well, one main problem is that Gretkov is in prison. We can't get in there without a very high risk of getting trapped.”
“True.” Kirill inclined his head. “But if I kill Gretkov, the problem is solved.”
Jason raised and eyebrow and Kirill was sure there was a mean edge to it. “But what will make him suffer more - killing him or making him fall? Make him lose all his money, his power, his freedom?”
A smirk appeared on Kirill's face. He could see where Jason was headed. “Make him fall.”
“I still have a copy of the tape I sent to Landy.” Jason offered. Kirill looked at him thoughtfully, then he shook his head.
“It is not enough.” he said and frowned. “We need more. Something that will make him lose his case for good, so that he can't even get out with his expensive lawyers. Prison will not keep him from ruling his little empire. We have to cut his bonds to the exterior world.”
“And how do we do that?”
Kirill didn't even have to think about that. “Andrei Nemov. He is Gretkov's right hand. We kill him and we take Gretkov's power. He can't rule without somebody loyal to him outside of prison.”
Jason didn't look too happy about it, but he didn't object. “How?”
“It will have to look like an accident. Otherwise we'll raise the suspicion of the FSB.”
Jason nodded and fell silent for a moment. “And how do we make Gretkov lose the trial?”
“That is a good question.” Kirill said and ate the last bit of his pizza.
“The public persecution will most certainly be interested in your testimony.” Jason supplied. “You were a key figure in the operation. Your knowledge would definitely make Gretkov lose the trial. Which probably is the reason why he wants you out of the way.”
“Of course they are interested in it, but I cannot expect to leave the Police Headquarters alive once the FSB learns that I'm there to testify.” He just shrugged. “They won't hesitate to blow up the building if they have to.”
It wasn't exaggeration, and Kirill knew that Jason was well aware of it. Officially, it was going to be a gas leak or something similar, but the result would be the same. Many dead, not only Kirill. It wasn't a very tempting option.
Then a thought crossed Kirill's mind. “We need to get to Stanislav Vetrov.”
Jason looked at him quizzically. “Who is that?”
“He was the contact person for Gretkov in the FSB. The man who assigned me to him. He is the director of the department of International Affairs.” Kirill explained and leaned back in his chair. “A conversation between him and me should be enough to break Gretkov's defence.”
Jason nodded slowly. “That could work.”
Kirill looked up and caught Jason's gaze. “But I cannot risk leaving Vetrov alive.”
“Why?” There was a frown on Jason's face.
“He trained me. He will be able to trace my steps better than anybody else.”
Jason's lips were a thin line, but he nodded. “I see.”
“And I should be considered dead afterwards, too.” Kirill went on. “If there is any reason to think I am still alive, they will come after me again.”
Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Then you'll have to die. Just like I did a few hours ago.”
***
“Will you give yourself to this program?”
The light was back in his eyes, so bright, so angry.
“You said you would do anything it takes to save American lives.”
His body was so heavy. He couldn't move his limbs, there was just no strength left in him.
“Are you too weak?”
Pain, exhaustion. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep, to never wake up again.
“You came to us.”
Water, in his nose, in his mouth, in his ears, his eyes. Silence, darkness, so complete. So absolute.
***
Kirill woke to the sound of choking, his body on instant alert, and he was out of bed with his gun ready before his mind had even realised what was happening. He scanned the room with all his senses, and all he found was Jason trashing on the bed at the other wall, making this dreadful sound again, as if he was drowning and desperately trying to get some air into his lungs. Kirill knew a panic attack when he saw one, he had lived through enough of them to recognise the signs immediately. He walked over to Jason, lowered his gun and placed it on the bedside table, then he took a firm hold on the trashing arms to avoid getting hit.
“Jason.” He let his voice sound calm and firm. “Jason. Breathe.”
Under his hands, he felt the muscles contract, felt the barely contained strength of Jason's trashing body and heard the choking sound again. Kirill knew had to get through to him quickly, he couldn't allow this to get any worse.
“Jason. Shhhh.” Kirill lowered his head until his mouth was close to Jason's hear, then he hushed gently, knowing that the sound had always calmed himself down. It seemed to work with the American as well, his harsh movements eased, his breathing slowed a little until he could get air into his lungs again. Suddenly, Jason's eyes snapped open, a haunted expression in them, and Kirill wondered what it had been that he had dreamt about. It couldn't have been a good memory.
The expression was replaced by confusion, a frown appearing on his face. “Kirill?”
“You had a panic attack.” Kirill explained and let go of Jason's wrists. He leaned back but remained seated on the edge of the bed. Jason rose, propped up on his elbows, still frowning, so Kirill added, “You were choking as if you were drowning.”
Kirill watched as Jason averted his gaze, swallowing once, twice, then he looked back up. “Special training.”
Kirill only nodded. He knew exactly what the American was talking about. Most special ops did.
Jason was silent for a long moment and Kirill just listened to his breathing. It slowly returned to normal and Kirill thought that he should move back to his own bed. It was the middle of the night and they still had some hours before they would leave. And they both needed all the rest they could get, their hunt was far from over.
“I don't know who I am.” Jason said suddenly into the quiet of the room, his voice reflecting several emotions that Kirill found difficult to place. “It's even worse than when I woke up without my memories. At least I didn't know I became their mere tool of my own accord, then.”
Kirill turned his gaze to where he could see Jason's face in the faint light coming through the window. There was a deep frown on the American's expression, his gaze lost somewhere in the distance.
“I am not David Webb anymore.” Jason went on, his voice was silent but determined. “David Webb wanted to become...” - Jason made a vague hand gesture at himself - ”...this. And ever since I woke up on that fishing boat in the Mediterranean Sea, I fought against them. And now I learn that I was my choice that made me into their assassin.”
***
Jason couldn't say why he felt the sudden urge to talk, but the thoughts had turned over and over in his head and he was certain that he was going to go crazy if he didn't put an end to his constant brooding. He felt split in two, as if there were several persons' memories in his head, some of which didn't feel like his own, even though he knew they were. He was confused and disgusted at what he had done, but most of all, he just couldn't understand how David Webb could have volunteered for the Treadstone program, knowing fully well what it entailed. It went against everything in Jason's nature and he wondered how he could ever have been that man. In a way, Webb was worse than what he'd become.
Jason stared into the distance, not really seeing anything. “I hate David Webb for this choice. I don't want to be him. I prefer to be Jason Bourne a hundred times.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle but firm pressure that made him turn his head. He found his gaze caught by Kirill's eyes, their expression as honest and sincere as the Russian had always been with Jason.
“Then you are Jason Bourne.” Kirill said quietly and held his gaze steadily. “It is your choice.”
It was as if the words, the touch, broke his restraint, his firm grip on his control, on his discipline, and Jason felt as if he was falling apart, as if he was losing himself in the confusion, the hurt, the pain. He had leaned in and wrapped his arms around Kirill's waist before he had even realised what he was doing, his head hidden under Kirill's chin, his nose buried against the soft skin of his throat, closing his eyes and just soaking up the Russian's closeness. He allowed himself something he knew he had needed desperately ever since he'd seen Marie disappear in the murky water of the river.
Comfort. Simple comfort in the presence of another person.
After only a few seconds, he felt Kirill's arms come up around his shoulders, enfolding him in a firm embrace, and Jason took a deep breath and allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of safety, comfort and trust that surrounded him. He had never expected to find it in Kirill's arms.
Kirill lay down on the bed next to Jason, pulling the American with him, never loosening his embrace. They just lay there for a long time, making no move to separate, and Jason felt sleep take over. He was comfortable and relaxed, and right before he gave into the tempting darkness, he felt the soft press of lips against his temple.
***
Kirill didn't know what had possessed him when he had reached out to touch the American. It had been an instinct he hadn't experienced before, the sudden urge to comfort, to hold, to protect. He'd been surprised at Jason's instant reaction, as if the American had just needed a sign that he was allowed to touch. The moment Kirill had felt the arms around his waist, had realised how Jason clung to him, he hadn't been able to push him away. Hadn't wanted to. He'd been overwhelmed by this protectiveness again, so strong that it had almost taken his breath, and he'd just followed his instincts again and had enfolded Jason in a reassuring embrace.
Kirill knew he was losing control, was feeling too much for this American, for a man who should technically be his enemy. Yet he didn't know how to stop it, and his ingrained honesty towards himself made him admit that this went far beyond physical attraction. So when he felt Jason fall asleep in his arms, he hadn't been able to resist pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Jason had given a quiet noise and had cuddled up closer to him, obviously already lost in sleep.
Kirill hadn't been able to fall asleep for a long time.
When he woke early the next morning, Kirill took a moment to enjoy Jason's closeness, his warmth against Kirill's side. The American had thrown a leg over Kirill's in an almost possessive gesture, his hand fisted in Kirill's shirt, and he was breathing softly against the skin of Kirill's neck. He was so obviously comfortable this close to Kirill that it suddenly made Kirill nervous, unsure of what was happening here, of how he should react to it. He couldn't blame anything on any painkillers this time.
It was this emotional turmoil that made Kirill get out of bed so he was gone before Jason woke up.
***
Jason looked over the rim of his newspaper and gazed at Kirill, who was sitting in the row in front of him. Through the central gangway, Jason had a perfect view at the Russian's profile and he couldn't help watching.
What had happened last night? There had been no painkillers involved, and it hadn't been about desire, sex or satisfaction. He felt as if they had crossed a line when they'd just touched to be close, none of them making any attempt to turn it sexual. He couldn't exactly tell what line, but he was still sure of it. When he'd woken up to find Kirill already gone, taking a shower according to the sounds coming from the bathroom, Jason hadn't really been surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed, though.
The arrival of the stewardess interrupted his musings.
***
It was evening when they landed in Russia. The season hadn't changed much, it was still cold, but the snow had begun melting. Moscow was just as busy as it had been a few weeks ago. Jason hadn't expected to return here so soon.
“Where do we start?”
“We take out Vetrov.” Kirill looked down his clothes with a disdainful gaze. “But first, we need money for new clothes. Weapons. A car.”
“I assume you have ways to get everything on that list?”
Kirill looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Certainly.”
“And afterwards?” Jason asked and walked in a casual distance to Kirill through the airport building, enough to make them appear unconnected as long as cameras were present.
“We will get a suite in the Baltschug Kempinski.”
Jason frowned. “Isn't that a bit expensive? Not to mention the risks of the cameras?”
Kirill just shrugged. “I have the money for it. And I know the building, it is easy to get around the cameras. Furthermore, it's the last place where anybody will look for us.”
***
“Why am I not surprised?” Jason asked and looked over the sleek shape of the black Mercedes in front of him.
Kirill shrugged, but there was a smirk on his lips. “I have no idea.”
***
It was long past eleven pm when Kirill followed the hotel servant into the huge hallway of the suite and paid him a generous tip, but not too generous to attract any attention. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of one of the balconies and he let Jason in, who had taken the long way through the staircase that didn't have many cameras and over the roof. It was better for nobody to know that they'd arrived together.
Kirill watched Jason look around in the suite, his expression a mix of astonishment and scepticism. “I can't remember ever having stayed in such a rich place.”
Kirill allowed his amused smirk to show. “I like it from time to time.”
“It suits your love for huge, fast, expensive cars.” Jason said with a chuckle, turning around to face him.
The sound sent shivers down Kirill's spine. He couldn't help noticing Jason's strong body, clad in simple but elegant black trousers and a new shirt that hugged his torso very nicely, a smirk on his lips, a teasing glow in his eyes. He was beautiful, and Kirill knew he was falling fast. He was overwhelmed by the memories of Jason's body under him, his skin hot against his own, his voice hoarse with pleasure, his neck arched in ecstasy. And suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off the exposed line of Jason's throat that was accented by the cut of the shirt and he had to lick his suddenly dry lips. He saw blue eyes follow the movement of his tongue and knew he wasn't alone in this, that the shift in the atmosphere wasn't a figment of his imagination.
Until now he hadn't been certain how Jason felt about their shared night in Tangier, but when he saw the blue eyes wander over his body up to his face, the intense gaze finding his, darkening with want, he understood that Jason was as much under this incomprehensible spell as he was. It was a reassuring feeling, arousing even, and Kirill wanted to grab the American and take him right here and now, but he remained where he was, unmoving. He wanted to see if Jason would approach him, would initiate what they both knew they wanted.
A whole minute passed with them just staring at each other and Kirill felt the tension in the room rise to an unbearable level. Then Jason took a step forward, then another one, walking over to Kirill with almost feral elegance, slow and alert and predatory, and then a warm hand settled on Kirill's neck with firm pressure.
It almost made him snap.
***
He put his hand on Kirill's neck without giving it any conscious thought, but the moment he felt the warm skin under his fingertips, it was as if a shock coursed through his whole body and goosebumps spread over his skin. Jason's hold tightened and he found he couldn't avert his gaze from the stormy green eyes that had darkened with unmistakable desire. Their expression made a shiver of arousal run down his spine, it was exhilarating to see the effect his closeness had on the otherwise so controlled Russian, how this little touch brought him close to snapping. Jason was sure that it only needed little more and Kirill would grab him, press him into the next wall and kiss him senseless.
And Jason knew he wanted to feel the Russian's hands on his skin again, wanted the firm pressure of the taller body against his, wanted the hands to take hold of him, wanted to feel Kirill's strength. He was surprised to find that it was highly arousing for him to have a partner who was just as strong as him, who was his equal in mind and body, someone who could pin him down and hold him there. Somebody who wouldn't use this strength against him, who would release him the moment he asked.
Jason shivered with the realisation. Kirill had just as much effect on him as he had on the Russian, they were equals in this strange attraction. None of them was able to control it.
Jason couldn't tell what it was, but something must have broken Kirill's restraint, because suddenly there were hands on Jason's waist, shoving him backwards, then there was the wall in his back and a hot mouth on his. He returned the kiss, parted his lips to meet the intruding tongue, let his other hand come up to bury in Kirill's hair, pulling him close. Kirill growled into his mouth, his hips pressing against Jason's, his hands pulling Jason's shirt out of his trousers, finding their way underneath it, wandering over his skin.
Yes, this was it. This was what he wanted. Yet, it wasn't enough, not enough contact, not enough skin, so Jason let his hands brush under Kirill's jacket, pushing it off, then opening the buttons of the shirt, removing it, letting it fall somewhere behind the Russian without paying any attention to it. He felt Kirill's hands pushing up his own shirt, letting go of Jason's mouth only long enough to pull it over his head. Then the lips were back on his, hands were on Jason's waist, Kirill pressing his body against Jason's, skin meeting skin.
Jason let out a content groan. This was more what he'd had in mind. He felt Kirill's lips leave his, wandering down his jawline, his neck, biting his collarbone. There were hands on his belt, on his fly, then a hand slipped inside his trousers, taking hold of his erection, wrapping around it in a sure grip. Jason's head fell back to rest against the wall, his mind blanked, he could only feel. The hand moved along his shaft in a maddening slow movement and Jason pushed into the fist, letting out a frustrated little noise.
Kirill chuckled against the nipple he was nipping, licking, biting, and Jason writhed under the skilled hands, the tongue that made him lose his mind, the pleasure that had taken over his body. And he still wanted more.
Jason gathered all the concentration he had left and opened Kirill's trousers, pushing the fabric down his hips, then he cupped the nice backside and pulled Kirill's groin against his own. The friction was delicious, Kirill's hand automatically tightened its grip and Jason's hips bucked forwards.
“Bed.” he heard Kirill growl close to his ear, his voice so low that it felt like a caress. Jason only nodded, felt Kirill's hand let go of his erection to grab his hand, then he was led through the suite towards the equally impressing, huge master bedroom. They shed their trousers and shoes on the way, not caring the least where they landed, and Jason couldn't keep his gaze from trailing along the multicoloured bruises that still spread all over Kirill's body, some having begun to faint, others still standing out vividly. When Kirill pushed him down onto the kingsize mattress, there was no piece of clothing left to serve as a barrier between them.
The sheets were softer than anything Jason could remember ever feeling on his skin. The thought was lost as soon as he felt Kirill move over him, covering his whole body with his own, hot skin touching Jason everywhere. Kirill's lips found his again in a deep kiss, unhurried and thorough, as if he was exploring Jason's mouth, learning every curve. His hands travelled over the expanse of bare skin, caressing Jason everywhere he could reach.
The lips left Jason's mouth, wandered lower, over his throat and his shoulder to his right nipple, teasing it, then lower still, and Jason's eyes fell shut in pleasant anticipation. He wasn't disappointed, just a few seconds later, he felt the hot wetness of Kirill's tongue lick along the underside of his erection, trailing along the pulsing vein, then the mouth closed around the tip of his hardness. Kirill let his tongue swirl around him, his hand a steady, firm pressure on the base of his erection, his lips sliding teasingly along the sensible skin, and Jason could only groan in pleasure. Kirill certainly knew what he was doing.
Jason lost track of time, space, just everything besides the touch of Kirill's hands, his lips, his body. His arousal climbed higher and higher, yet Kirill kept him only close to the edge, never letting him pass over. Then his mouth let go of Jason's throbbing hardness, leaving him in a state of confused arousal. Firm hands took hold of Jason's hips and turned him onto his side, then the lips trailed up Jason's spine, soft licks and little bites, until they reached his shoulder, his neck. Kirill was pressed into his back, his hand passing in a teasingly soft caress over Jason's backside, along the inside of his thigh.
“Jason.” Kirill murmured against Jason's skin, accent thick in his voice. It was a silent question, asking for permission, making it clear that he wouldn't go any further if Jason didn't allow it. It was touching in its consideration, showing respect and care, and Jason's head fell back, allowing Kirill unrestricted access to his neck, raising his leg under the caressing hand, giving his answer without saying a word.
Kirill's lips fastened on his shoulder, his hands disappeared for a moment, then there was the cool touch of a slicked finger tracing Jason's opening in a teasing caress. For a second, Jason wondered where Kirill had managed to find lube, but then the finger pressed inside him, slowly and with careful pressure, and Jason's mind focussed on other things. The intrusion felt vaguely uncomfortable and Jason bit his lip, but then Kirill's finger passed over a spot inside him that made Jason see stars, made him lose all conscious thought and he could only arch his back, his mouth opening in surprise and releasing a hoarse groan.
He heard Kirill's low chuckle behind him, then the finger passed over that spot again, teasing him, and Jason raised his leg some more to grant Kirill better access. He stopped trying to control his voice, just let the sounds come, pressing back against the finger. Then there was a second one, accompanied by a slow burn that eased as soon as Kirill hit his prostate again and Jason just let himself fall into the pleasure, enjoying the feeling of being filled in a way he hadn't expected. He couldn't say if he'd done this before, didn't remember, but the feeling wasn't entirely new. There was something familiar about the sensation, something that made him suspect that this wasn't the first time.
Then the fingers retreated, only to be replaced by the slicked head of Kirill's erection, pressing against the loosened muscles of his entrance, sliding in oh so slowly. Jason gritted his teeth, there definitely was a difference in size to the fingers. He felt Kirill's hand caressing his stomach in a soothing pattern, heard his harsh panting close to his ear, felt the hot breath on the skin of his neck. Then the hand wandered lower, closed around his member, jerked him slowly, while the length of Kirill pressed in further and further. Jason bend his head, pressed his forehead to his arm, tried to control his breathing, relax his muscles.
Then Kirill pulled back and slid back in with a long, slow thrust, and the angle happened to be just perfect. He hit Jason's prostate and made him gasp, forgetting about the pain that he'd been hyperaware of only a second ago. Jason's head was thrown back now, resting on Kirill's arm, he was panting, pushing back into Kirill, meeting his every thrust fiercely, aiming for more friction, more contact, more pleasure. He thrust into the hand on his erection, then back on the hardness filling him, and he was lost to the world. Jason's one hand found its way to Kirill's hip, the other fisted into the sheets and he moaned deep in his throat.
Kirill's pace quickened, became irregular, his breath came in harsh, low growls against Jason's neck, then Kirill's hand closed over Jason's where it was twisted in the sheets, their finger entwined, and Jason pressed down hard when he came with a harsh groan. There was a pain in his shoulder and he felt Kirill bite him hard.
Then the world became white.
***
*** GO TO PART B***
***