AN: I hope everyone had a good Ramadan. ;) Thanks to lyssie for the beta.
Spoilers: The Bourne Ultimatum
Disclaimer: This might shock you, but I am not Robert Ludlum. As such, I do not profit from writing this story.
Part the Third: In which a man of violence prepares for a night of peace
Sometimes, Jason goes on vacation as David Webb. He still picks the seat at a restaurant where he can see all the doors, because he can't help it, but he does his best to linger over dessert.
Nicky doesn't change her name. It's stupid, and they both know it, but at the same time he sort of likes it. Jason Bourne only ever loved Marie Kreutz, but David Webb loved Nicky Parsons so much that they were both stupid enough to trade it in for the dream of patriotism. It's easier to keep it all straight if he's allowed to go on thinking of her as Nicky.
They don't see each other very often. In fact, he was more than a little surprised that he ever saw her again after he put her on a bus in Morocco. He didn't expect her to find him. He's a master of stealth and evasion, after all, and sometimes he forgets that even though she can't kill a man six ways from Sunday using everything from basic office supplies right up through a rocket launcher, she can still erase him from existence after she wires all his money to an untraceable account in the Caymans. They all have their own ways of disappearing.
When she knocks on the door of his hotel room in Oslo, he's impressed. He's in town because Pamela Landy is winning the Nobel Prize for Peace for reasons which are almost entirely classified. The watered down version of the story which the press is circulating states that she is being celebrated because of her contribution to "the effort towards international disarmament". He looks down at his arms and can't help but smile. Pam Landy still has her share of enemies in the wind, and he is here, very unofficially, to make sure she survives her moment in the spot light.
He doesn't know why Nicky is here, exactly, but he starts to formulate a theory when she begins to undo the buttons on his shirt before he's quite through closing the door behind her.
"Do you have any specific targets in mind?" she asks, trailing a hand down his chest.
"No," he replies, working on the buttons of her overcoat. "Mostly I am just being careful."
"You mean paranoid," she corrects him, stepping back to let him pull her shirt over her head.
"I didn't write the training manual," he means it as a joke, but it strays a hair too close to things they've unspokenly agreed to never speak of.
Her hands pause on his shoulders, and she looks uncertain when she meets his gaze. He kisses her, then, because when she looks uncertain it reminds him of the time in Berlin when he thought about killing her, and she looked at him with full awareness of what he was capable of doing to her. When he kisses her, he remembers all the times before Treadstone.
Her hands move again, discarding his shirt and sliding down to his belt buckle. He lowers his mouth to her breast, leaving a trail of kisses along the top of her bra. She moans and falls back half a step. He follows her as fast as he can with his trousers around his knees and presses her up against the door.
He manages to step out of his pants and boxers without losing his balance, something he is reasonably sure the CIA did not think of when they invested all that time and money into his spatial awareness training, and rucks her skirt up to reach for her panties. She's wet already, and he is suddenly very conscious of the ache hardening between his legs.
Somewhere in the city, Pamela Landy is safe enough for now, so David Webb allows himself to forget everything but the woman whose hands are wrapped around his cock. He pulls her panties out of the way, taking a moment to admire her own spatial awareness as she steps out them despite wearing a pair of shoes he thinks he could use to topple several foreign governments but probably not walk three steps in.
He pulls her thighs apart and she wraps her legs around his waist. He makes sure the door will actually support them, and then he's inside of her. She gasps in his ear, and tightens her hands on the back of his head as he pushes into her. He is rising fast, and slips a hand between them, brushing against her clit, to make sure he isn't leaving her behind. He holds on just long enough to send her over the edge and then he follows.
His knees almost falter as he carries her to the bed. There is work to do later, but there is time for the important things in his life as well.
He is on vacation as David Webb. That means he gets to linger.
finis
AN: Why did I think it was a good idea to write smut about a guy who steals city maps before getting into car chases? :)
Gravity_Not_Included, September 19, 2009