|Tarot IV: Star
Author: Guede Mazaka
"James?" Alec held his breath, letting it frost the insides of his lungs. The hand lying on his back pressed down, then slid sideways to wrap around his waist. James buried his head in Alec's shoulder, shaking.
"Yes." It was a whisper thinner than a ghost, but it felt like a hurricane slamming through Alec. "Yes."
Air whooshed into him, and it was only a moment afterwards that Alec realized he had gasped. Not that much time was given to him to ponder over it. James tangled fingers in Alec's hair and yanked him down to the bench, crushing their mouths together.
Lips already parting in a groan, Alec writhed and wrestled till he had shoved away the heavy overcoat fabric to put his palms against the warm cotton covering James' chest. His head was madly thumping against the hard bench, but he barely noticed, too caught up in a tangle of tongues and teeth, too deep in the explosion of taste sensation in his mouth. Drank it deep and long, blasting aside bitter ashes and metallic hate to sink beneath cool sweet fruit.
Their movements were first frantic, then slowed. Grunting, James propped himself up on elbows, hazed eyes the shade of rain-stained lapis. "Strawberries."
Alec smiled tentatively back, hands flexing on James' ribs, remapping the slight indentations. "The same. And chocolate."
"I did have a few pieces on the way here," James remarked musingly, bending down to brush his lips along Alec's jaw. Like dragging a firecracker against the skin, pop and flash not deadening the scorch in the slightest. The kisses grew wetter, James sucking a little before moving on to the next spot, and messy dots of heat seemed to glow through Alec's skin in a meandering trail from chin to collar.
"Oh, God…" His eyelids were fluttering, fighting desperately to stay open. "This isn't real…"
"It had better be," James laughed quietly, undoing the first button of Alec's shirt and licking the newly-exposed flesh. Then he stilled and grew somber, touching his forehead to Alec's collarbone. "I would hate to have to start over from the beginning."
"We are at the beginning." Caressing James' sides, Alec shifted so his knee was out from under the other man and dropped his leg to the floor, which allowed him to nestle closer to James. He ran his hands to the small of James' back, weaving fingers into each other to form an impromptu lock. "If you ever drug me again…"
Alec snorted, lifting himself up slightly to kiss James' worried face. "No. I told you, that's no longer an option. But you'll regret it." He rubbed his smooth cheek against the other man's, skimming lips down the long neck and enjoying the taste of-for once-cologne-free skin. So James wasn't even bothering with the old habits, the armor of fine suits and suave manners. Good. Alec wanted to relearn everything that lay under the false skins, the dissembling skepticism. He wanted to find out what now made James cry out at night, what nightmares haunted him and what dreams still beckoned. He wanted to know what had given James back his will to continue on. "When you said yes-"
"That was to everything," James interrupted in a fierce voice, suddenly tearing at their intervening clothing. Alec's shirt flopped open, his coat dangled from arms that could barely keep up with James' flurry of touches. Long strokes down the front, feathering fingertips that skimmed the sides and zigzagged over his stomach. And licks lovingly swiping over the wrecked side of his face. Alec instinctively flinched, but James was having none of it: he combed fingers through Alec's hair and cupped Alec's face, not allowing him to move an inch while James proceeded to skate lips over every single twisted ridge and permanent wrinkle.
"Christ…" Breath staggering itself into unequal fragments, Alec unconsciously let his thighs spread further apart, rocking up to rub himself on James' thigh. Waves distorted the edges of his vision, heated air rippling in time with his heartbeat. Which was crashing louder and louder, cymbal of tide clanging itself on dark rocks. "What-what-"
"Everything," James repeated, rasping and rich. "Never hide anything from me again."
"Won't," Alec promised. Hard muscle ground into his erection, arching up his back. James sank down to meet the rise, his mouth trailing smoldering lines after it as he slid along Alec's body. His warmth removing itself from Alec's hands so they had to make do with gripping the bench, so freezing in comparison. "Please, God, don't leave me."
"Not a chance in hell." Cold damp air abruptly smacked against Alec's cock, springing free of its just-unfastened trousers. He shivered, and then incredible tight fire encompassed him, sucking and swirling over the thin skin there. Shook free one shudder after another from him, leaving Alec with nothing except the feel of coarse wood jabbing tiny needles of splinters into his palms.
He might have keened, but Alec wouldn't have known, so loud was the rushing in his ears. Staring blindly up, he drowned himself in the cleverness of James' mouth, one moment so gentle and the next nearing pain in its ferocity. Alec was losing his sense of reality. Cracks and creases in the ceiling above jumped out at his eyes, while the fingers he had wrapped about the back of the bench seemed miles away.
Electricity was gathering around his veins; lightning defied law and struck the same places in him over and over. The crackles started in his head, so muddled, and the middle of his chest-Alec momentarily wondered if a heart attack was possible, then decided the irony was too absurd-and descended in crescendoing swells down his bones, as if his limp-tense muscles were wired with steel. Sparks flowed up to meet the falling surges, pulsing every time James swallowed.
Swallowed. Devoured Alec, took him in and compressed him till he burst into white heat, till coronas danced at the edges of his sight. James grazed teeth, then soothingly laved the small stings while Alec clutched wood till his knuckles screamed. Flicked tongue and lips, did something stunningly marvelous with them that whited out Alec's mind.
Alec screamed as he tumbled, plunging into the depths of James.
Carefully taking in every bitter drop, James slightly winced at the high eerie wail that rose from Alec. A sound like that shouldn't be able to exist-too filled with heaven, edged with emotion so palpable it raked itself down James' back and melded into his blood.
After his climax, Alec abruptly slumped into the bench slats, tendons unwinding with near-audible snaps. His pants resounded through the empty station, and one hand was scraping knuckles on the filthy floor, fingers laxly half-curled as if asking for something.
"Alec?" A little concerned with the motionlessness of the other man, James slowly got up, biting back a hiss as he straightened stiff legs, and came over to look into Alec's dizzy-eyed face. "Are you…are you all right?"
"James." Alec closed his eyes, expression almost prayful, then opened them to show contentment. Movements unsteady and jerking, he rolled himself onto one side, and then, quick as a cobra-strike, curled round to slam James' hips back into the bench. Ripped down James' zipper as Alec flopped off to kneel on the ground and push between James' legs. Then that beautiful mouth, pink to the stiff flesh's crimson, skimmed itself down the length of James' erection and dragged back up. Alec allowed the very tip of the cock to slip between his lips, cocking his head when James groaned.
Not nearly enough heat. Not enough to incinerate all the dead wood that had collected during James' long desolation. Hips jerking forward, James clamped down on his urge to just ram his way in. None of that anymore. He was done with that cycle of pain inflicted and received-even if the strain of holding himself back was killing him. "Alec, please just-"
And the other man did, making James' cock disappear down his throat in the blink of an eye. Vision suddenly doubling itself, James watched detachedly as his hands materialized in Alec's hair, twining in the golden strands. A muffled gasp rippled against his cock, spilling flame into his veins.
He just remembered to loosen his grasp before Alec truly set to work, relearning all the old preferences. A scrape of teeth here, tongue twisting over there, and James felt his bones melting away, felt his flesh kindling and blazing. Moans and hisses tumbled from his slack mouth, and no longer having the strength to support his head, he had to let it loll back to rest on the bench. "Yes, oh God, yes," James hissed, roughly stroking hands over Alec's head in encouragement.
His hips were rolling, seemingly of their own accord, seeking further passage into that one source of everlasting fire. Everlasting flame, the only one of his entire life. And damn him, but James had almost snuffed it out. Well, no more of that. His fingers were knotted in fiery gold, were holding the sun and they weren't ever releasing it.
Scorching out from the furnace of Alec's mouth, the rays dipped into James and raced up his limbs, one by one merging to stream in a single brilliant beam into his mind. Filled it with growing diamond light that gradually blotted out everything. Burnt through the detritus of cynical illusions and triple-layered tricks, clearing them all away so James could gaze directly into the center of the white star and feel it sear him clean.
Hair mussed, clothing crumpled beyond salvage, they were too tired to do much more than huddle together on the bench beneath their greatcoats. James had managed to drape one arm around Alec's waist, but even that small gesture had left him gasping for air.
But it was a good exhaustion, Alec thought. Aches that told him he was alive and awake, no longer trapped in a shadow world of guilt and anger. Soreness that reminded him of everything he'd just regained. He burrowed his nose deeper into James' neck, savoring the familiar scent.
"An abandoned train station," James unexpectedly said, wry humor lacing his tone. "And one with antique grime as well. I suppose it's better than that sculpture yard."
And finally, Alec could chuckle at that hint at their turbulent past without any stinging venom lashing him. Without fear and hatred gnawing at his heart. "There've been worse places."
"True." James paused, leaning his cheek against Alec's forehead, his misty breath drifting in wisps past Alec's face. "I think I prefer it like this, actually. Too many women went along with each fancy hotel and bottle of champagne for that to mean anything to me anymore."
"About that," Alec muttered, tipping up his chin so he could catch James' peripheral vision. "No. Not unless it's merely foreplay. For us."
"Fortunately, I seem to have lost my taste for that nonsense." On Alec's hip, James traced circles over low-hanging waistband and soft skin. "It does make me wonder how M is going to respond what we've become. I don't think we're…fit…for our old positions."
"I wonder if, at this time that we've been chasing each other, she was planning on bringing both of us back to the fold." Resettling his temple against James' shoulder, Alec lazily redid the front of his pants. He snorted contemptuously. "Sending someone like Claggart after us, and then allowing him free rein. It's rather suggestive, isn't it? And considering his past record, it wouldn't be any surprise that she'd want to get rid of him."
"He did find us," James half-heartedly admonished. He checked his watch. "Hmm. They probably had my apartment quarantined. Do you think M's called off the dogs yet?"
"Knowing her?" Alec met James' gaze, and both men sighed. "I've got a car around the corner, and we're not too far from a few crimelords. We could 'borrow' a room for a few nights."
"All right." Making a feeble attempt to move, James groaned and sank back. "In a few more minutes."
Tone crisp and brisk, M nonetheless betrayed a bit of pleasure as she verbally demolished the two men standing before her desk. "Trevelyan. Bond. You have killed MI6 personnel and destroyed MI6 resources, killed and destroyed countless other people and objects in innumerable places, caused chaos that seriously hampered the operations of not only this agency but also the entire British government, and endangered the global financial system. And I am summarizing. Have you anything to say for yourselves?"
"You should have included 'without authorization,' or else it all would have been perfectly in keeping with agency policy," Alec noted with a respectful mien.
"I should have included your predilections for dramatic displays of insolence and insubordination," M snapped, voice like a whippy ruler cracking on a desk. "Unfortunately, as your loyalty to each other precludes separation and isolation, I am left with two choices. And having both of you permanently eliminated would undoubtedly use up more resources than MI6 can spare."
"The intended replacement for 006 has not yet attained double-o rank, and I don't believe that you even have one lined up for me." Face unruffled as a satisfied cat's fur, James inwardly braced himself for the long nasty speech.
Which never came. Tapping her nails on her desk top, M grudgingly nodded. "True. You will have your numbers and ranks restored. You will be classified as MI6 operatives. But you will not, under any circumstances, be returning to your former fields of operation."
"What, no saving the world?" James arched a brow, displaying a little surprise.
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you will, as you've always insisted on doing," M replied coldly. "But not as in the past. We will not be sending either of you to Russia again if I can help it, and we will not be sending you to carry out corrective measures after an incident has occurred, or after we've received sufficient concrete evidence to warrant a mission. You will be operating in a pre-emptive fashion."
"Assassins?" Now Alec looked quite intrigued.
"Disruptive agents. Which is what you are." M tossed a folder across the desk to James, who picked it up and, tilting it so Alec could see the papers, began to peruse the contents.
"America?" James asked questioningly, glancing up just in time to catch a faint glint of amusement fading from M's eyes.
"Mexico," she corrected. "Our American friends have reported some…oddities in the region, but don't seem to be able to verify any details. Your mission is to evaluate the general atmosphere and determine if it is something with which we need to concern ourselves."
"And if it is?" Alec inquired.
M's mouth puckered, as if she had been forced to try something rather sour and pretend she liked it. "Then you are authorized to stabilize matters however you see fit. As long as you are reasonable about it."
"I'm always willing to be reasoned with," James said mildly, a trace of a smile on his face. "It's usually the other person who has difficulties with logic."
Irritably waving her hand at the door, M swiveled her chair to look at her computer monitor. "Out. Now. And I don't want to see either of you for the next two months."
"I believe we can accommodate that," Alec replied, getting up and heading out, with James strolling next to him.
Sighing with aggravation, James regripped Alec's thighs and twisted to take in the newcomers. He leveled a disdainful look at the three huge guns pointed in their direction. "Yes?"
"Excuse me, sirs," said the shorter man in a smarmily polite tone. "But you're blocking the door to our room."
"Well, you certainly took your time coming back," Alec retorted, shifting against the wall to which his back was glued so he could wrap his arms around James' neck. He hastily muffled a moan at how that change in angle shifted James' cock within him. "What else were we supposed to do while we were waiting?"
"You've got a point. This is a pretty lousy shitpit, even for us. Not even a whorehouse." The Mexican growled at that, which made the American mutter something about possessive psychic fuckwits with guitars. "And why would you be so interested in us, then? Considering you've dragged yourself all the way across the Atlantic to fuck each other against our door? Not that I'm not flattered as hell, but…"
"The name's Bond. James Bond." Studying El's face, James made one slow thrust into Alec. "This is Alec Trevelyan, and we're with MI6. Are you Sands, formerly of the CIA?"
A trio of clicks as guns cocked. Rolling his eyes, Alec raked his nails down James' back in hopes that his partner would stop long enough for them to avoid adding to their lead collection. James, however, ignored the gesture and kept rocking into Alec while speaking in a damnably steady voice. "I take it the other man is El. A pleasure to meet you both. Now, if you'll just let me attend to this, then we can buy you a few rounds in the bar next door."
"Why would we take drinks from you?" El asked, serious expression becoming slightly peeved as Sands started to snicker.
"Three cartel gunmen, who happened to come by while we were here. Guns are over there-" James jerked his head toward a cloth bundle near El's feet "-and we didn't clean them, so watch for the blood."
Glower not budging, the Mexican flipped one gun into-some hidden holster-and, keeping one gun trained on James and Alec, warily untied the rags.
"They're telling the truth," El commented, startled, once he'd seen the pistols inside the cloth.
Sands put away his gun and tucked his cane under one arm, then shoved up his sunglasses to reveal empty sockets. Both James and Alec blinked, temporarily taken aback, then shrugged and returned their attention to each other. Unusual, but by far not the worst they'd ever seen.
"They're having fun," Sands snorted, tone sour and a little jealous. "Honestly, El, we had at least a half-hour. Plenty of time to try out that banister."
Preoccupied with staying upright while his cock and mind suddenly detonated, James missed whatever the other man's response was. But after he and Alec had gotten tidied up, the first thing they saw when they turned was El pinning Sands to the door across the hall, thoroughly savaging the American's mouth.
Drawing back, El absently wiped a trickle of blood off his mouth and gestured toward the staircase. Attempted to, at least; a wobbly-legged Sands was hanging off one shoulder, which considerably hampered El's range of motion. "You first."
"Certainly." Flicking some dust off his shirt, James followed Alec over to the stairs. Doing his best to suppress a pleased smile at his lover's slightly uneven stride.
An Explanation for the Gratuitous Crossover
Barside Chat: 'Mexico' (Archetype)/ 'Goldeneye' (Tarot) PG-13, for pinkdormouse
Idly scratching at the floor with his cane, Sands tossed down another tequila shot. "Righty-o, Trevelyan. I see your explosions, and I raise you gun-sucking."
"Gun-sucking," the other man repeated. "Ever tried that on a moving train?"
"You think there are working trains in Mexico?" Sands snorted, jiggling his leg. Which, mercifully, didn't jingle. Swear to the Virgin's whoring sisters, if El ever tried to make him wear that kind of clothing again, he'd-try to withhold sex. Goddamn smoke-scented mariachi. "Anyway, old DeSoto. Might as well be a steam engine, considering how big its ass is. Bloody pool table."
"Your blood, or someone else's?" Alec drawled, sounding like he was prissily examining his nails. "Hanging from a bungee cord."
Fuck, but Sands missed being able to roll his eyes. Maybe he could roll the stickass Brit's instead. "Oh, please. That's so late 90s. Getting a good, thorough skullfucking-" he held up a hand "-and I mean literally. Like, El goes in and just strokes my head from inside-out, voodoo-style."
Silence. Smirking, Sands leaned back and mentally prodded the mariachi. Time to go.
"Yes, Alec?" James warily asked. Beside him, El was giving the same look to a slightly-drunk Sands.
Draping himself over the barstool, Alec gazed up from under half-lidded eyes. "James," he purred, "Have you ever been to a Mexican graveyard? Sands assures me that they're quite fun at night."