A/N: Warnings here. This guy will have death, violence, abduction, noncon and other elements I'm sure that'll be added to warnings along the way.
This prologue takes place two years prior to the main storyline
Enjoy~
The motel he'd been put into was a mere step above repulsive, emitting the mingling stench of decades-old unwashed carpeting and dust a quarter's width thick atop the door frame. The room was a strange layout, he'd noted upon his arrival. One wall constructed at a sixty-degree angle, jutting off to rest behind the enclosed space that made up the bathroom, left a corner of plaster too concave to harbor so much as a potted plant. It made the area feel cluttered and unfinished, a persistent scratch on the back of his brain even as he'd ventured outside the room that night. Hiding in shadowed corners all his own, he'd thought of the motel, how it'd be impossible to be tactical confined in such an odd alcove.
As hands, softer than velour, kept him planted on the bed, roaming over his bared chest, he could feel that corner shifting from across the room to surround him. He felt exposed, but utterly trapped, his lungs constricted as a lithe, taut body hovered over him, slick and wet as they ground themselves down. Blanketed in nothing but the input three blue screen of the television behind him, the man looking down on him with half-lidded eyes was a mess of submission and a fierce predator. The light hugged around the soft curves of a thin waist and bony hips, dipped through and around disheveled red curls to stain them in an eerie, ethereal glow. Through the glint passing over his eyes, Christophe could see a ravenous appetite in the man, his own calloused fingers twitching to touch such a clash of personality.
He indulged himself, creeping along the bedsheets until hitting his holder's knee, genially opening his fingers and sliding up lean, strong thighs. They quivered under his touch, his nails digging into pallid flesh, subtle approval of the ounce of power he found with so simple an indication. It was robbed from him yet again with another subtle, calculated press of those hips, feeling hot skin brushing against his own and sending a fiery jolt throughout his core.
But, that's what Kyle was best at, he supposed. He held a fire around Christophe, shoved him face-first into the flames and refused to let it be doused until he deemed it appropriate to do so. For months he'd been doing this, following him halfway around the world, breaking into motel rooms to wait for him to come back and unknowingly strip before leaping out and pinning him down. The bed, the floor, the chair, wherever they fell, it never mattered. Either way, Christophe would always grab him to retaliate before realizing just who it was that had once again caught him and finding himself unable to do more than let Kyle lead them through the motions.
Kyle leaned down, brushing smoldering lips against his own, a few minted huffs of air leaving him as a sultry laugh. "You always seem so surprised," he purred.
Christophe blinked, Kyle's slender hands continuing to explore a defined chest, nails scraping down the skin and leaving pale marks in their wake. A shiver ran down his spine, his own fingers digging harder into Kyle's legs and rewarding him with a harsh draw of air through pearl-white teeth. Christophe's head tilted back in the slightest, lips scraping against Kyle's chin, daring to nip in the slightest at the bone. Kyle smiled, a hand straying from its study to trace to Christophe's cheek, the pads of his fingers threading through thick, dirtied brunet hair. A gentle, encouraging press against his skull prompted Christophe's mouth to open at last, still caught in that hypnotic, seductive gaze. "Non," he breathed. "Not surprised."
Kyle's brow cocked, a sly smirk creeping onto his lips. "Oh?"
"You are… predeectable," he managed a scoff. "Always when I am undresseeng."
He gave a small snort, "And yet you never look for me or even try to stop me. It's almost like you want me here, Christophe," he teased, curling his index finger along a tangled lock. "What would Gregory say?"
The name brought a sharp, sour twist to Christophe's gut and he scowled, Kyle grinning at the desired reaction. Those nails dug deeper into his thighs, a satisfied sigh leaving Kyle's throat at the pressure. "Who geeves a sheet?" Christophe demanded. "'e ees not my mo'zer."
"No, but he sure seems to call all the shots, doesn't he?" Kyle replied, tapping dotingly against his clavicle. His head tilted slightly upwards with an air of superiority, of deep-seated contempt ringing across a face splashed with nearly invisible freckles. "You're the one out here, risking your neck while he hides behind a computer. But somehow, he tells you what to do. I just think that's the funniest thing."
Christophe stared at him, a long, shaking breath rattling his chest. "Do you not do ze same weez zat pussy you work for?"
Kyle's grin fell, lips twisting as he lightly smacked the side of his head. "I work for no one but the client," he drawled. "And I only tell Luis who, where, and why. I'm not Gregory. I never tell him how to do his job. And, let's face it, Gregory wouldn't last on the field."
"Oh?" he managed a smirk. "But you would?"
That smile crept back onto his face. "I like to confirm the target before I send Luis off. Requires a bit of… undercover work," he purred, pressing his lower half down again. "Besides, I work with an idiot," he scoffed, watching Christophe arch up against him, trying so desperately to get inside the slick, pre-stretched hole taunting him so cruelly. "He should be with Gregory, all he wants to do is follow orders and not think for himself. But not you," he purred, sliding his fingers down and onto Christophe's right hand, prying it off his thigh. Slowly, he led him onto his hip and guided him up his body, letting him feel every dip, brush over every freckle with purpose in his path. Christophe's eyes were wide, attention unmoving as he was pressed up Kyle's chest. A gentle bite hit his wrist before soft fingers prompted him to lightly wrap around a slender throat. Green eyes gleamed with arousal and purpose, free hand reaching back and gently snaring the skin standing and resting against his backside, feeling the tremble rushing down Christophe's spine. He raised his hips, making sure their eyes remained locked in one another's as he leaned back, lowering himself down onto the waiting cock. He moaned, spine stiffening as both of Christophe's hands tightened around their spots, Kyle's head tilting back and giving him more room to squeeze as he seated himself onto his lap.
Kyle's hand slid from the one on his neck, rubbing up and down a muscled arm with a smile full of thrill. "You miss having a say," he whispered, eyes closing for a moment as his body quaked, muscles pulsating as they tried to adjust to the thick stretch. Christophe's fingers twitched against his thigh in impatience, trying to keep himself from gripping harder around his throat but unable to help the excited swelling from the prospect. Kyle grinned, opening his eyes again and looking down his arm into hazel eyes set ablaze. "Don't you?"
Tongue passing over dried lips, head spinning in the eerie, claustrophobic space, Christophe nodded briskly, the wind taken from him as Kyle gently lifted himself and forced himself back down onto his dick. "Oui," he whispered, enamored with the concept coming from that toxic, delicious mouth.
"You want what you had before him. You want the control back," Kyle continued, legs rocking as he rode him, breath turning hard and heavy, moaning with each press down. "He won't let you," he urged, leaning his neck further against his hand, Christophe feeling his throbbing pulse radiating down into his palm, holding Kyle's life at an arm's length. "But I will," he rasped, nails digging into his arm and a soft, subtle whimper breaking through at a harder squeeze. His head was going heavy, his body on autopilot as he continued slamming himself down onto Christophe's cock, his own erection beating against the man's pelvic bone with each thrust.
Christophe's body was quivering in excitement at the notion, feeling a surge of power breaking through him with rapidity at each labored breath barely leaking out of Kyle's compromised trachea. Hazel eyes lit with brimming energy, taking his hand off Kyle's throat and the man nearly falling from the sudden change. Kyle panted, hips stopping and looking up through hanging bangs. "What's wr-" he stopped with a startled gasp as his arm was snared and he was pulled up before being shoved off to the other side of the mattress.
He barely lifted his face from the surface before weight landed on top of him, shoving him back down. Kyle groaned, bucking his ass back against Christophe's cock, pleading for more of what he'd started. Christophe stared at the sinewy lines of his shoulder blades and spine, the way his muscles flexed with each ragged breath and each shove back. His upper lip curled into a famished snarl, reaching forward and snagging Kyle's thin wrists in his hand, yanking his arms back. Kyle followed with a yelp, grunting as one rough palm grabbed them both, shoving them into the small of his back. Christophe reached under his abdomen, forcing his hips higher into the air. "Leetle slut," Christophe muttered.
Kyle's head managed at last to swivel to the side, chest heaving with that grin plastered back on his freckled face and long lashes fluttering in the dim lighting. "Depends. Gonna ditch that British dipshit and work with me?"
Christophe grunted, lining himself up and sliding straight back into Kyle's waiting body, listening to his moan echo against the musty walls. "Non," he said, Kyle pausing and looking back at him with a frown. Christophe reached down, snagging his hair and ripping him back upright, tongue curling up behind his ear. Kyle gulped as his fingers worked back down to around his throat, eyes slamming shut with a vicious thrust pressing up inside. "You weell work for me, petit renard," he growled.
Kyle gasped as his hips began to move, body unable to stop shivering from the intensity, his head falling back onto Christophe's shoulder with a wheeze as his palm pressed into his adam's apple. His captive fists clenched, chest aching as his stomach fluttered in exhilaration. He laughed breathlessly, humming at another squeeze around his neck. "Didn't… didn't say I'd just give you all the power here," he teased between pants.
"Zen I weell take eet," he snarled, biting his ear hard enough to garner a pained yelp. "Legs wider, Broflovski," he demanded.
Kyle hesitated, considering putting up more of a 'fight' until a strong, threatening press against his throat made his decision for him. He wasn't stupid, he knew he held more than enough cards in their game to get Christophe to stop if he wanted, but they'd been circling the board for far too long. Kyle was determined to make this his last trip out.
He rolled his shoulders back, thighs spreading further apart with a wince. He groaned, head twisting a bit and finding himself nestled in sweated brown hair with a smirk. "Remember when Gregory told you never to see me again?" he murmured, kissing his temple. Christophe grunted at the reminder, tightening his grip on his wrists. "Bet he was so furious," he prodded. He hissed at teeth suckling the nape of his neck, canines delving deep into the flesh. Kyle whimpered, a tremor rolling down his spine as heat violated him so precisely, brought him in and out of surface tension time and again. His erection was nearly painful, dripping onto the motel sheets as all hands were kept away, Christophe's own little brand of punishment that he could never say he hated. "What would he say now?" he asked through a strenuous exhale, scalding breath bouncing off Christophe's face back to his own.
He growled, nails scraping Kyle's jugular. He knew exactly what Gregory would say. That he was stepping out of line, that it was inappropriate to conduct such behavior with someone who could potentially be a double. He'd never trusted Kyle, not since he'd found out he was in the same line of work as he was, and his number of hits exceeded his own. "Too suspicious," Gregory had claimed. "He's either falsifying the numbers or he's murdering innocents. No one gathers intelligence that quickly without connections to the targets."
But Christophe had learned better in his last ten months of Kyle's relentless pursuit of him. The man under his palm was crafty, could track someone down to within a quarter mile within the hour. He could charm, he could mislead and manipulate. He could seduce.
Years of hardened mercenary work hadn't stood up to Kyle's silver tongue and unabashed hands, unwittingly giving Kyle his and Gregory's home base location before he'd realized it within the first few of their meetings. But Kyle hadn't done anything damaging with that information, merely laughed and teased him that he was lucky Gregory's suspicions held no water, but how it was nice to know his skills could outwit even the best in the partnering field.
No, Kyle only once came near their base, knowing that while Gregory wouldn't come after him outside, he knew well enough how to work a gun and wouldn't hesitate to shoot him down if he caught him within their quarters. He stuck to merely waiting until they were both out, setting a remote server on Gregory's computer to more easily track where Christophe was being sent next from his and Luis's base three states away. He always went where he could find an excuse to hand his partner, only taking trips to where he knew potential leads for their own clients were within a hundred miles. His system was simple: Leave two days before Christophe, get his own target's information, instruct Luis on the next step, then just wait for the real mission to be within range. Christophe never quite knew why the man was so determined to worm his way beside of him, but he certainly couldn't complain. Not when he knew he had a grip over Kyle that no one else did, one that brought him back time and again, just waiting for him. Only wanting him.
Christophe huffed, nipping his back yet again. "You talk too much," he murmured, encapsulated with the tight muscles so devastatingly drawing him in, the body beckoning him like a siren song.
Kyle chuckled, pressing his lips against his skull and humming pleasantly. "Then shut me up."
Full-fledged permission was granted, and Christophe was going to run with it. He wanted his talk of his partner to cease, but he was more than happy to make sure Kyle couldn't keep completely silent. He let go of him, shoving him forward to fall off himself and crash into the pillows. Christophe slid back off the mattress, turning and shuffling through his discarded clothes left strewn across the floor.
Kyle propped himself up on his elbows and watched him over his shoulder, brow raising. "Sorry, did I say the wrong thing?"
"On your back," he ordered, snaring a fraying cloth belt from his waistband. Kyle paused, watching the glowing silhouette of his working on either end of the tails. He smirked, doing as told and rolling over, head falling back onto a pillow and a soft, content sigh escaping him at the sensation of cool sheets spread underneath his back. Limber fingers trailed up his hip, gently wrapping around his hardened skin and giving a few slow, purposeful pumps. "'ands off, over your 'ead," Christophe's voice broke through his haze.
Green eyes lit with both frustration and delight, giving him a dramatic sigh as he let himself go, raising his hands up to rest with his knuckles pressing against the wooden slats of the headboard. He let out a quiet purr as he stretched, back arching and feeling Christophe's eyes leaving his work and landing on his enticing motions. He flinched as a sudden hand landed on his abdomen and shoved him back down, looking up and blinking innocently at the hovering mercenary. "What?" he cooed, giving him a lazy smile.
A huff of irritated breath seeped through Christophe's nose as he climbed back onto the mattress and straddled over slim hips. He reached forward, snatching the pillow from under Kyle's head and ripping it back, watching his skull fall back and ghastly auburn curls spread out like a devil's halo atop the flat surface beneath. Christophe grunted as he slid forward a bit, maneuvering the strap of his belt to worm behind a slat, weaving it in front of the next to slip through the third and final directly behind Kyle's loosely curled fist. Kyle watched in interest, barely taking note of the movement of cloth and more focused on the subtle flexion of solid muscle as Christophe worked. He sighed to himself wistfully, giving no more than a quiet breath of a moan as his arms were grabbed and crossed over his head, only finally looking up as his wrists were slipped into biting fabric rings.
He chuckled, "Not the safest way to tie someone up, Christophe." He wriggled the fingers of his left hand as it was left utterly entrapped, checking his own circulation as Christophe continued onto the right. The knot pinched his thin skin, turning it an irritated pink.
"You 'ave 'ad worse, Broflovski," he muttered, eyes not faltering from their work. Kyle snorted, nodding a bit. He'd take this over being zip-tied to an enemy's chair to be interrogated any day. Christophe released his other wrist, watching Kyle's hand moving curiously for a check of slack. He knew that the man could easily get out if he wanted to with a mere concentrated contortion of his fingers to worm between the cloth and himself, but from the way Kyle shifted under him, arched against him with a desperate yearning to be touched, Christophe had a feeling Kyle wouldn't break out for anything less than a fire. He tongued over chapped lips, hands gripping around Kyle's upper torso and slowly inching their way down to his hips, rubbing along his skin and feeling the excited palpitations of his heart. "What would you do eef I was ze enemy?" he questioned.
Kyle cocked his brow at the sudden query, but gave him a sly grin and a shrug. "I don't let the enemy tie me up so easily."
He scoffed, "Bullsheet. I know what you 'ave done for eenformation, Broflovski."
"That's different," he argued dismally as thumbs pressed into his hipbones, slowly rubbing in tight, grounded circles. "They don't know I'm the enemy if it gets that far."
"And yet you steell let zem put zeir deecks een you," he rolled his eyes.
"Jealous?" he taunted, green eyes gleaming.
Christophe paused, tightening his hold on his bones and looking at that waiting expression, the one so subtly pleading for him to tell him the truth. The truth of how the tracking had become mutual, Christophe going out of his way to hire a hacker of his own to watch movements Kyle made for his own missions. How he stayed awake all night if Kyle's signal fell off radar as he went undercover, unable to think of sleep until he contacted his home base again. How he and Gregory had been at such strenuous odds with one another since their first encounter, how he'd nearly broken his partner's nose for insinuating that Kyle was doing nothing more than wanting to make him his killing lackey, to pass the blame for the blood on his hands from Luis to him.
He wanted to tell him, wanted him to know how much it disappointed him when Kyle didn't follow and wait for him. How any news of an intel source in their field being brought down all but stopped his heart until he knew for sure Kyle was still safe. He wanted him to know it all, wanted to scream it at him, shake him and make him understand what he'd been putting him through for nearly a year.
Instead, he leaned down with a snarl, grabbing his hair and yanking until Kyle's mouth parted with a pained cry and delving his tongue past his teeth. Kyle moaned, lashes fluttering before slipping closed, captured fists clenching and loosening, wanting so badly to run his hands through Christophe's matted hair, to pull the back of his neck down, force him as close as humanly possible until he was all but enveloped in his stocky build. He could only vaguely feel as his curls were relinquished, too distracted by the clash of tongues and the taste of tobacco and black coffee to notice Christophe's hands on yet another mission off to the side.
He nearly choked as Christophe pulled back, realizing how much air the man had stolen from him as they wheezed against one another. "I keep eet dark een 'ere for a reason," Christophe murmured, stealing another kiss.
"To keep hidden," he whispered, returning the favor. He was more than aware, it was why he only turned on the television to see Christophe, the same tactic he used in his own missions.
"You are too loud to keep us 'idden," he continued, the slightest edge of playful mocking in his tone. Kyle grinned, giving him a sheepish shrug. Christophe pulled back, Kyle's eyes drawn to his hand as he held it up, a bunched-up pillowcase clenched between his fingers. "I do not weesh to die because you cannot keep quiet."
Kyle chuckled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Want me to stay silent? Just stare at the ceiling and think about grocery shopping while you do your thing?"
"Non," he smirked, moving the case down and forcing it through Kyle's teeth with his first two fingers, watching his face scrunching in the slightest at the influx of cotton suddenly stifling his tongue. He let out a gasp as his legs were grabbed, hiked up over broad shoulders. Christophe grunted, lining back up and diving his cock back into place. Kyle let out a surprised, muffled moan, head rolling back as he was denied time to adjust once more, Christophe hips snapping against him steady as a metronome. His arms snuck around Kyle's thighs, holding his waist steady in his hands and leaning forward, forcing Kyle's body to bend as he yanked him back against his rhythm.
Kyle was beyond dazed, unable to stop screaming from behind his impromptu gag with every nerve being so brutally taken advantage of, adoring every iota of pressure against him. He could feel the beginning of bruises to be had from fingers gripped too tightly, slight burns starting to spawn under cloth not suited for its current usage. He didn't care; he couldn't find anything wrong with what he was being put through with those murky eyes so intensely focused on him. His propped jaw trembled as his head was forced back up from the side it'd lolled onto, creaking his eyelids open to meet that overwhelmingly hypnotical stare.
Christophe leaned further forward, Kyle wincing at how he was obliged to curl with him. A thumb stroked his cheek, the nail scraping across his muscle. "Eef I was ze enemy…" Christophe started, voice keeping low, just barely audible over Kyle's blocked noises. Kyle's eyes widened at the hand sliding from his face back down to his throat, falling nearly silent at a rough squeeze. "I could keell you, right 'ere," he reminded him, hips never slowing, feeling his stomach curling with sensitivity but forcing himself down a bit, wanting to see every bit of Kyle's reaction. "And you could not do a fuckeeng zing about eet," he hissed.
Kyle's eyes fluttered, groaning as his tendons were squeezed enough to momentarily cut off his air before being given a short reprieve and gasping his way through it. A routine began, seconds of pressure and his vision spotting, his head falling back from the weight it suddenly seemed to gain before Christophe would let him come back to life. Always just long enough for his senses to kick back in before leading him through it all over again. Through it all, he trembled with pure exhilaration, knowing full and well that Christophe was right. At any moment, he was dangling by a mere coil of threads, and Christophe was tottering with scissors, running the edge of the blade all along the fibers. Bit by bit he was letting it fray, but never enough to where he would slice through a filament.
Christophe was fascinated by the way Kyle's eyes, stained a rich teal in the television light, would widen with momentary panic before lowering as Kyle would again recognize just who had a hold on him. He was a strung-out disaster, every ounce of power he'd held in their situation taken from him in its entirety, and they were both relishing in the effects it brought about. His pupils were nearly pinpoints from the treatment, his jaw was shaking around the pillowcase. Christophe had seen the look before, the faces of countless that he had done away with in the past. He'd learned over the years to look past that expression and do merely what needed to be done. But not here; not with Kyle. He wanted to both overpower and coddle him, wanted to hear him screaming for him to stop and begging for more. He wanted everything that Kyle had made clear he was willing to give him if he fell to his side at long last. That look on his freckled face twisted his stomach in both pain and elation. He wanted to see it time and again, but he never wanted to see it with someone else's hand holding him down.
Christophe grunted, head bowing and sweat beading his forehead. His vision was blurring, forcing himself to release his grip around the slender collar for fear of missing a telltale indication in his haze. He kept his hand over the skin, feeling Kyle's gasps expanding throughout his trachea as he tried to gain back what he'd lost. "Sheet," he spat, listening to a flood of whimpers finally able to work through Kyle's chest, feeling his lungs expanding and convulsing with near-sobs at the barrage of sensations piling back on him. He lifted his head back up in the slightest, seeing Kyle's eyes scrunched shut. He lifted his hand, sharply slapping him across the face and getting his attention back where it belonged.
Kyle's eyes widened as he was hovered over, hazel bearing down on him like stone. Christophe forced his head to the side, leaning down towards his ear and flicking his tongue under the lobe. "I want eenside," he said simply. Kyle nodded frantically, hips bucking all they could as he was continually yanked back over his cock. The enthusiasm was overwhelming, Christophe moaning and shuddering, opening his mouth and latching his teeth into Kyle's collar as any remaining hint of his reserve spiraled out of his reach, lost in the trap of the taut body beneath him. Kyle yelped at his canines breaking skin and a strong pulse coming from the cock shoved inside of him. Christophe met his end in a shroud of lost vision and the smell of spearmint gum and over-creamed lattes, fingers and teeth tightening as he exploded inside the vice gripping him.
All too soon for them both, his hips came to a stop, back locked and skin too sensitive from so much stimulation. His breath came out staggered, his jaw unhinging as he panted wetly against the crook of Kyle's throat. Kyle moaned, arching as he was slid out of, body feeling empty without such a pleasant stretch. He pivoted his head up, meeting Christophe's cheek with his own and nudging him, bouncing his pelvis up and nearly squeaking at the slightest hint of pressure against his own unresolved problem.
Christophe gave him a huffed breath of a laugh, hand shoving his bottom half back down as he shook his head. "Not yet," he informed him, tremoring as he propped himself up over the compromised man. Kyle whined a bit from behind his gag, trying to move and hump against him, gain the slightest hint of friction as each breath felt like more than enough to topple him over on their own. He groaned as his legs were dropped, his hamstrings singing the sweet song of masochistic pleasure. Weakly, he watched as Christophe stared down at him, moving his hand down his chest and diverting to his waist, touching every inch but the ones he so desperately needed. "I 'ave questions first," Christophe said stoutly. "You keep your fuckeeng voice down, and you answer, zen I weell 'elp weez zis," he said, dragging a cruel, taunting back of his finger along Kyle's dripping cock.
Kyle groaned, nodding through a shaking breath. He coughed slightly as the pillowcase was delicately removed from his mouth. He stretched his jaw, looking back at Christophe as he watched him cautiously, recognizing that look of wondering whether he'd overstepped his lines and needed to get him out of what he'd put him into. He smiled crookedly, vision still blurred and his voice turned hoarse as he spoke. "Did you know I was taken prisoner in Argentina a few years ago?" he asked.
Christophe narrowed his eyes, wondering where he was going with this. "Uh, non. I deed not."
He chuckled humorlessly, "I wasn't even part of the agency they were after, was after another group entirely in fact and didn't know their ring was stationed there. But they kept me for four days. Interrogated me for information I didn't have, even broke my tibia before I was finally rescued with a hostage exchange. That was less torture than this."
Christophe couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head at him wearily. "You 'ave a strange set of priorities, petit renard."
"I know what I want, and I always get it," he purred. "So, ask your questions so my dick stops leaking like a fucking faucet."
He nodded, continuing to stroke a hand over his waist, losing every ounce of his coarse nature as he settled comfortably into the afterglow, basking in the radiance of Kyle's brimming eyes. "Why 'ave you come for me?"
"Well, I haven't yet, you won't let me," he teased, his grin slipping a bit with Christophe beginning to frown. He cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with him and shrugging. "Been waiting for you to actually ask that."
"I 'ave," he scoffed. "You always talked your way out and ran."
"You never thought to ask when you've had me tied up before," he shrugged again. "That's my job, avoiding your questions and getting my own answered," he reminded him.
Christophe squeezed his hip, "I weell not agree to anyzeeng weez no answer."
Kyle groaned, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling, eyes closing shyly. "Because you're good at what you do. You're not fucking sloppy like some mercenaries I know," he shook his head. "We could fucking skyrocket our client numbers if we work together instead of relying on morons like we do."
He rattled him a bit, "Non. Zat ees not ze reason. Zere are plenty of ozer good men een my line. Why me?" he demanded.
Kyle paused, eyes finally breaking back open and looking at him with an embarrassed gulp. "You saved my life."
Christophe shook his head in shock. He'd never worked with Kyle on the field, not once. "What?"
"Two years ago, you saved me from getting shot down," he admitted. "We were both off in fucking Angola, I guess for the same guy, or at least the same group."
Christophe paused, trying to trace back just what he'd been there for. He could only remember a large team to track down, and only one man he had sniped right off his chair from one-thousand yards away. "Ze… drug trade?" he guessed.
Kyle nodded, "'A Corrente'," he clarified. "The man you killed was someone I went after. He didn't like that I'd 'left', even though at the time I was just sneaking around gathering evidence. I overheard that he was gonna order a hit on me for before I got out of the country since I'm a little distinguishable there," he rolled his eyes before locking stares back with him. "You shot him before he could. If you hadn't, I would've been either tracked down before I made it to the streets or flat-out executed on the tarmac."
Christophe stared at him, a thick gulp rolling down his throat. "So… zis… whole zing…?" he squeezed him again.
He shook his head, "It didn't start out like this. I just wanted to talk to you after I figured out who you were. I did some looking around, saw your record, and wanted to at least see if I could make conversation. When I finally found and saw you, well… Guess I decided if you wouldn't work with me I could at least get some good stuff out of it," he blushed.
Christophe sighed quietly, remembering how Kyle had approached him the first time. How he'd tried to walk away, but the man wouldn't stop following him as they both made way through a Mexican marketplace. Somehow, though even now Christophe couldn't remember the words used, Kyle had managed to convince him within the hour to pin him against the back of a cantina and do with him as he pleased. He'd mentioned their lines of work in the aftermath, feeling Christophe stiffen thinking he'd waltzed into a trap before talking him down and stroking through his hair as they sat together in an alleyway. He'd asked him for the first time to come work with him, and Christophe had merely muttered he needed to think about it before getting up and walking away without another word.
He'd told Gregory of his strange encounter with the clandestine redheaded man, and Gregory had been enraged. He'd told Christophe to never so much as speak to him again, that he knew exactly who it was that was trailing him, and he was not to be trusted. Rumors were exempt from no group, mercenaries included, and Kyle had a reputation following behind him that stood out from mere kill records and how many plans thwarted. For him, those statistics were only the result of his speculated tactics, how he went far outside what his given allowances should be, got far more information out of his targets than others. Few knew why or how, but any that spoke with him could certainly harbor a guess. Gregory had his own suspicions, and he wanted his team kept out of his tricks. After all, intel belonged on the inside. They were there for names and crimes alone. The clients only hired for one person at a time, and they were to keep it to that target, their groups notwithstanding. He didn't trust someone who played it so fast and loose on the field as though it were a game, considered him childish and nothing more than a moving bullseye just waiting to be struck, a fool who didn't understand the meaning of covert operative. The further he was kept from the two of them, Gregory had surmised, the better.
But, somehow, Christophe just kept 'happening' to run into him on his expeditions. And he just 'happened' to be outwitted and led into bed with him time and again. Gregory was none the wiser, had asked now and then about whether he'd seen Kyle since that first night and getting nothing more than a dismissive scoff and Christophe walking back away into his room.
"Why deed you keep comeeng back?" he asked at last. "I told you I would not ze first time."
Kyle shook his head slowly, "You've never told me no. Ever. You always just made an excuse or told me you'd think about it. If you had, I would've let it go and left you be… And you would have denied the offer by now if you didn't want it. What's holding you back?" he pleaded. "Is it just because of this?" He jerked his head towards their naked bodies before he frowned, "Or is it that fucking asshole?"
Christophe raised his brow at the spiteful tone seeping through his words, the way his teeth grit down and his brow furrowed. "Broflovski… are you jealous of Gregory?" he gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
Kyle blinked, mouth fumbling in the slightest, "J-jealous that he isn't stuck with a Luis, yes. He… he gets to be efficient and I don't, that's… you know… not… fair," he mumbled, shifting a bit in his hold, wanting more than anything to just run out the fucking door.
He continued to stare, watching Kyle squirming uncomfortably underneath him, eyes flickering about. This wasn't a Kyle he was used to, more than familiar with steely-reserve mannerisms, with an everlasting flirtatious charm. He had no doubt Kyle had long since turned this side of him into another tactic, one used to make him seem vulnerable against someone who'd instantly take down a perceived threat. But here, it seemed almost too genuine. And he wouldn't have stored it in his back pocket for so long if he'd intended on using it all along. He leaned down closer, Kyle finally looking up at him and swallowing, looking so small in his predicament he seemed like another person entirely. He hummed, chest cinching pleasantly and a smirk creeping up his face. Calloused fingers lightly trailed around his hip and up, grasping around still-hardened skin and watching Kyle arch with a needy moan. "So," he started, giving a small jerk and smiling at Kyle following the motion, "ees zis ze real you?"
Kyle blinked, not exactly in the headspace for being questioned. "What… whaddya mean?" he forced out.
He leaned down, kissing him briskly. "So shy and quiet," he teased.
He rolled his eyes, blush turning darker. "People are more than one level, Christophe. Is the real you the one who lets yourself get pinned by someone half your size?" he drawled, hissing sharply at another tug.
Christophe shrugged, releasing him and listening to his whine, his head beating back against the mattress. Kyle bit his lip, watching as Christophe reached to a discarded bottle thrown carelessly onto the nightstand, shuddering as he tipped the plastic and let clear solution drip into a waiting palm. "Only one, petit renard," he rumbled, throwing the bottle back and grabbing around his cock again. Kyle's mouth dropped, flinching with sensitivity at each tug. His hands twisted, trying to break forward and grab, to scratch and plead. The headboard remained sturdy, barely swaying with his efforts. He whimpered, frustrated tears dotting the corners of his eyes as he struggled. Christophe watched him amusedly, thumbing over his slit. "Ask nicely."
"Tophe, please," he whispered with a cracking voice.
Christophe's stomach fluttered at the familiarity of the moniker, pressing back down and stealing his lips, his free hand flying up and worming fingers between Kyle's confinement and his burning skin to let him worm his way out. Hands free of their binding flew forward, wrapping in his hair and scratching up his back, drawing him in closer as their tongues and teeth clashed against one another. Hot breaths unfurled between them, both unable to find a hint of workable oxygen amongst one another. Kyle's hips rocked against steady pumps, pressing up against Christophe's abdomen and letting his plethora of noises waft into Christophe's open mouth. His arms wrapped around Christophe's neck, overrun with pure feeling as his muscles began to tense, his bottom half tingling as he crept closer and closer from Christophe's relentless teasing.
"Tophe," he breathed out through a long-winded, pleasured sigh. His fingernails burrowed into his back with crescent indentations in their wake. Christophe merely grunted, shoving his tongue deeper as he felt Kyle right on the edge, drowning out a cry as he spilled over at last, marring both their stomachs and reaching up to their chins. Christophe was fascinated with how he scratched and managed to slur out pleas and grateful, sloppy kisses in his momentary disillusionment. He sank back down onto the mattress and Kyle choked out a snivel, flinching at the pressure still wrapped around him as he was reduced to nothing but over-sensitized nerves.
Christophe automatically released him, wiping his lube-coated palm on the sheets before reaching up and threading his fingers through disheveled curls. He pulled back his tongue, both separating from one another's lips and staring as they panted, still so urgently wrapped around each other. Christophe gulped, petting through his hair and watching Kyle slowly sinking from his high, recognizing that stare of adoration he always fell into in his afterglow. He nodded, fighting his way through a ragged breath. "Oui."
Kyle straightened out, eyes widening. "To what?" he whispered.
"You know what, do not make me regret zis already, petit renard," he rolled his eyes, attempting to save face with a brash kiss. He pulled back, watching once more as Kyle processed his answer. His heart beat thunderously, unable to help mirroring his expression as Kyle's lips curled into a pleased, affectionate smile.
