|After the Party
Author: Guede Mazaka
Due to unforeseen circumstances that demanded quick thinking and no hesitation, Alec was woozy.
He thought that was the right word. Whatever new drug Q had handed them-and had subsequently ended up in Alec's glass-was currently rearranging his synapses into pretty strings of gold coins. They glittered in the backs of his eyes. Which he shouldn't rightly be able to see, but he was discovering that all sorts of rules seemed to bend after straw-colored champagne had been bubbled into the blood.
Something was wrong with his feet. They pinched and seemed to want to throw him off the curb. In retaliation, he kicked them off and cleverly managed his recoil to sway into James. Who cursed and grabbed at Alec, hands slowly swimming through the summer-thickened air to seize fur. Alec had fur?
"Fox fur. It's someone else's coat. And high heels." James sounded distant and muffled, but his half-amused exasperation came through perfectly fine. "You took the wrong hanger, and then you knocked out the coat boy when he tried to correct you."
"Correct me? But I'm never wrong." Alec's head was tipped back so he stared directly into a sodium-yellow halo, partially eclipsed by a strange small moving object. A squirrel clambering over the streetlight. "That's not the right size. Or color."
The arms continued to drag him along, away from the living mistake. "What are you talking about?"
"It's wrong," Alec insisted. "In Russia, things were different."
Very different. He could almost touch those memories. Recollections washed out almost beyond recognition by time and determination, only the warm yellow haze left. Or perhaps that was James, draping heavy folds over him. They'd used coats for shrouds, because there were too many bodies. That Alec remembered very well.
"I know you were in there for a long time this go-around, but Alec, it's been two months." Impatient James. Always in a bit of a hurry, despite his cool exterior. He needed patience, but of course the man would never learn it. "Snap out of it."
A car approached, and Alec tried to get into it, but somehow James ended up in the seat before him and he had to lay on top. "Dogs. Huskies. Have you ever gone sledding, James?"
Flicker and flash above his head, then the smoke. Opposite to the saying. Everything shook when Bond gave a negative. "I don't think I'd care to, either."
"Pity." Alec shrugged into the waves of uncaring serenity that rippled through him and languidly plucked at the crisply-pressed trousers before him until they crumpled away. Blooming, and he ignored the stifled cries above him as he gently licked and sucked. His nails were very white in the stark street lighting, and he curled them into flushing skin till they reddened. Because red was always a better color.
Red briefly tinted his vision as a hand painfully yanked up his head, and then the color completely overtook him as another set of fingers curled down and around. Petted him like a tamed beast, and stroked his nerves into spasming while he cut a warning into James' neck with teeth.
"Bastard. I don't know why I bother."
Which made Alec laugh as he stole the forgotten cigarette butt from the ashtray and used up the last drag. "You wait for me, James. You always do."