Fandom: Skyfall, One-shot, Pairing: James Bond/Gareth Mallory
Genre: P(lot)W(hat)P(lot), Slash, Smut and cheesy conversation. I'm fairly certain this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written. Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Romance…you have to take what you get because the fandom is a drop in the ocean…y'know what I mean, I can't hear about the pairing 00Q anymore (no offense, but "for the sake of variety" ). By the way please note that I'm not a native speaker. Thanks to my Beta Erua!
Rating: NC17
Title: With pleasure, M, with pleasure
He drank the rest of his Scotch, still staring at the ridiculous little porcelain bulldog 'M' had left him. The little figure hadn't remained unaffected by Silva's attack. There were two fine, but visible splits which ran across the dog's ugly visage, making it look even more hideous. The item was as damaged as James by the latest events. This fucking dog was the only thing left of the old woman. The clever, annoying, in fact dreadful woman had been the only mother he'd ever known - a woman, who had even given the command to erase his existence, a woman who had sent him again and again into the eye of storm – but only now there was this certainty that he had indeed loved her like a son loved his mother. James clenched his fists and the unfamiliar pain from the gun shot returned, leaving his left shoulder burning. But he didn't care; in fact, he even welcomed the physical pain which distracted his mind from an unfamiliar ache he felt in his heart.
A knock on the door stirred Bond up from his unpleasant thoughts.
"Come in", he mumbled, not looking up from the bulldog which was placed on the table in front of him.
"Why haven't you returned any calls or e-mails?" The male voice didn't sound angry, but calm and determined.
"Mallory…?" James didn't turn around.
"It's 'M' now, 007 and I don't have to tell you that breaking into someone's home is still considered a crime, even when she's dead."
"I'd like to report I cocked it up, Sir." James had turned her flat into his home for the last couple of days, or perhaps simply for the time being. She was gone and he didn't want to go back to his empty hotel room. He wanted to mourn his 'almost' mother. He wanted to be where she had once been. James didn't feel like staying in a strange place. He wanted to feel attached to something – anything…M's Scotch and her things, which soon would be gone like her.
Mallory walked over and took a seat on the arm rest of the chair next to James. He looked tired, but still his stature was firm and elegant. The overprized Tom Ford designer suit fit him like a second skin. The polished silver cuff-links on his blue shirt-sleeves reflected the warm flicker of the fire place.
"Remembering the exact sequence of events, I dare say you succeeded. The enemy was successfully eliminated."
"But she's dead, too."
"You did everything you could, Bond."
"Did I?" Doubts filled his drunken mind.
"She should have told you that she was injured so you could have stopped the bleeding," Mallory stated matter-of-factly.
"There was no time."
"She made her decision then. She knew she was probably going to die."
James kept silent, downing his half-empty glass of scotch.
"Are you ready for your next mission, Bond?" The obvious doubt in Mallory's voice irritated James not for the first time.
"What makes you think I'm not, Sir?"
"Do you have difficulties with the new chain of command? I have to be sure, Bond. You failed the evaluation, but my predecessor wanted you in the field because she thought you'd manage. So if you tell me you're ready, I'll try to believe that."
James looked at him. "I don't see any problem here, Sir."
"Apart from you being heavily drunk and drugged?You must know, not everyone will be pleased with my decision of keeping you in the game," the older man added with a sigh.
"I don't give a fuck, Sir."
"I can't say I'm surprised."
"It all comes down to one thing, Sir." James stared at Mallory, wondering if he would be the first to back away. But he didn't. The man's Tiffany-blue eyes were calm and focused as if he was waiting for something. James didn't know what it could be.
"Yes, it comes down to one important aspect of our relationship: trust. Do you trust me, 007?"
Suddenly Mallory entered his private space by putting one hand onto his aching shoulder. Comforting, strangely comforting, was all that James could think of. Eve had been right. The man wasn't a pure bureaucrat. Gareth Mallory had been Lieutenant Coronel and a captive of the IRA. He had been tortured for three months, but didn't betray his country. Mallory would have died for his motherland if necessary. He didn't turn into an oedipal whining asshole like Raoul Silva aka Tiago Rodriguez. Granted, he didn't lose his jawbone, but as James had read they did break every rib and every finger before leaving Mallory, starved and nude, in the middle of an empty field on a cold winter night.
He usually couldn't give a damn about heroism, but some things couldn't stay unnoticed.
"Do you trust me?" Mallory repeated while his grip around James' bare shoulder tightened as if in a desperate attempt to provoke the right answer.
James hissed when the pain became more intense, but the other man didn't lose his hold on him. He reached for Mallory's arm and tried to push him away – in vain. Instead he only leaned forward and brought their faces closer together.
"Trust, James…" Mallory's nasal voice became strangely soft while James could feel his warm breath against his skin. He smelled like he'd had one or two drinks himself.
"How's the arm, Sir?" Bond suddenly asked, not knowing himself why he should give a fuck about such a triviality.
"Almost fine again. Silva knew about your failed evaluation. What did you feel when you found out 'M' had lied to you about your physical and psychological results?"
Sweet Jesus. It had to be because he was drunk and stoned, how else could he explain getting hard as he smelled the man's aftershave?
"I felt…confused," he admitted, adding: "I heard you caught the bullet while shielding 'M' from it. I'd say you deserve being trusted. Thank you." Mallory loosened his grip on James' arm, but their faces were still only inches apart.
"Would you still trust me, 007, if I commanded another agent to take a shot at you in order to accomplish the mission?"
Bond didn't reply. His hand was still lying on the back of Mallory's.
"Would you try to hide me and protect me if some maniac was after me?"
James noticed fine strained lines around the older man's eyes. The rest of his slightly feminine features with those perfectly shaped lips appeared still young and spared from time and all too familiar signs of age, but his knowing eyes and his receding hairline betrayed Mallory's young appearance.
James frowned, puzzled by the strong urge to please and at the same time tease the man in front of him. "It's unlikely that those incidences will happen a second time, Sir, but yes, I'd take you to Skyfall if it still existed and then we could hunt. And in the evening I'd light the fireplace and we'd drink Cabernet Sauvignon while eating stag filet and it would be really romantic."
"Fuck you, Bond."
"With pleasure." James reached for his glass, but Mallory took it first only to throw it to the ground. The glass splintered and the golden fluid splashed over the parquet.
"This isn't a bloody game. I'm not Silva."
James noticed Mallory's eyes, fleetingly wandering over his bare chest and further down.
That was unexpected. James cocked his head, examining Mallory's current mood closely before he answered: "Apparently not, Sir, or should I better say fortunately, because he simply isn't my type?"
Was Mallory really angry at him? He certainly was a man with temper, but lately he had learned to control it. James had studied his new boss' file extensively. His record was stainless, apart from one minor entry of his former superior during his time with the forces.
Mallory's pupils went wide while his breath hitched. James reached for his hand, slowly moving it from his shoulder to his collarbone and further down his chest. The cool sensation of Mallory's golden signet ring on his skin made him slightly shiver.
"Your detailed field report about the encounter with Silva…every word was true?"
James' own hand reached for the older man's cheek. His fingertips brushed slightly over Mallory's recently shaved skin. "Do you mean the part about M's truthfulness or the part about me having a serious childhood trauma?"
Mallory didn't answer, but instead shut his eyes.
"Or is it the part about me being versatile and adaptable when it comes to… pleasure?"
A suppressed groan left Mallory's mouth.
"I thought so," James smirked while his hand travelled from Mallory's cheek to his neck, caressing warm and soft skin. James had no explanation for his behavior apart from wanting the man so badly that it physically hurt. He wanted to open his tight designer shirt to press his lips against Mallory's perfect chest. He wanted to grab his ass. James wanted Gareth inside of him while biting into those strong shoulder blades, feeling the heat of the other body against his own needy flesh. He yearned to protect Mallory, but at the same time wanted the man to shelter him from harm.
Mallory didn't hesitate, but pushed off his pair of braces before opening his shirt and his cuff links. He didn't throw it aside, but carefully placed it over the arm rest of the chair while putting the sparkling metal buttons on the table, which made James smirk.
Gareth Mallory's body was pale and his skin almost transparent. He was muscular, his upper arms well-defined as well as his flat stomach and well-built legs. His hands were strong, but slender at the same time so you could see every single sinew and vein. James and he shared a similar scar on their shoulder blades, only Mallory's was the inverted mirror-image of his own.
James let his fingertips slowly travel over the older man's healed flesh-wound before he leaned his head against Mallory's chest, fully inhaling the man's infatuating fragrance. He had missed touching a firm, strong body which was so different to a woman's shape, nothing was curvy or fragile. The only soft parts on Mallory were his skin, his lips and his cock…the latter would change soon.
He felt strangely safe. Perhaps because they both were so alike: working, fucking and if necessary dying for their country had been their only purpose all their lives. Mallory was like Bond's reflection. If he couldn't trust him, who else was left?
James got on his knees while opening M's zipper. The other man's hands clawed painfully into his skin for support. Mallory's breathing became erratic when James fingertips reached for his cock.
Mallory gritted his teeth, but that didn't prevent him from making a muffled needy noise.
"We're about to violate more directives than I can count, 007."
"I'm still off duty, Sir."
"Then you don't have to call me that."
"But it improves the excitement to a certain extent, doesn't it, Sir?"
Mallory didn't answer, which wasn't necessary because James found his assumption confirmed by the gradually swelling bulge in the older man's trousers. He couldn't resist reaching for his mouth and putting his finger on those soft unmanly lips until they parted and James could feel the man's wet tongue against his tickling fingertip and how his finger got sucked into this warm cave. He wondered how many sexual encounters Gareth Mallory had already had with men. Had he ever fucked a guy? James began to evenly stroke the cock in his hand, feeling Mallory unzipping him as well, his hand shaking. James felt an adrenaline buzz shooting through his body.
He pulled the other man down so Mallory had to sit on top of his knees. Pale scar tissue was scattered all over Mallory's ribcage.
Bond gave Mallory an unfamiliarly tender kiss so that their lips touched for the first time, but only for a brief moment.
"I think…I need..." James wondered why his voice suddenly failed him.
"What?" Long, elegant fingers were caressing his skin again, obviously not willing to reject him.
"...just some comfort," Bond simply replied, not knowing since when his state of mind had become so fragile and inconsistent. The older man made him feel weak, or rather James for once allowed himself to be vulnerable – to let go of all his tension in the arms of a man he barely knew, but consider worthy to be trusted.
He offered his throat like a sheep to its predator and whispered: "But coming back to your question: yes, in fact, I intend to fulfill my duties in any way I can. You should nevertheless be prepared that you're most likely going to die. Any plans for the future?"
"Surviving will have to do for the time being, I suppose," Mallory replied, out of breath before he leaned towards James and kissed his throat. James moaned while his pulse started racing when the older man's teeth gently bit into the soft skin near his Adam's apple. He couldn't stop his hands from stroking Mallory's cock even more emphatically which in return made the man groan against his neck.
Bond wanted to be touched as well. His balls were aching and his cock was begging for attention when Mallory's slender hands finally came in contact with his erected shaft. More excitement shot through his body, which felt as if it was on fire while his senses were febrile and flooded with an extensive amount of sensory stimuli. All he could do was feel, smell, touch and taste.
Their kissing got more fierce and demanding. Mallory's freshly shaved cheeks and chin were so much softer than he had expected. His hands wandered around the other man's waist, fumbling for access. He impatiently shoved them down into Mallory's suit pants, feeling the even softer skin of the older man's firm ass. How was it possible that a man's butt could be silky like his? James had always been anal retentive, but this ass was certainly increasing his preferences. He felt torn between the desire for wanting to fuck that ass and the urge to get fucked himself.
Mallory, who was still sitting on his thighs, suddenly stood up and undressed himself before he got on his knees and took off James' trousers as well. Bond settled back, feeling the warm leather of the sofa against his skin. His hands started digging into the armrests when Mallory bent down and those soft lips closed around the tip of his cock. Too proud to verbalize how aroused he was, James bit down on his lower lip. Fuck, yes, how much he had needed that he only knew now that Mallory's wet, warm saliva ran down his sensitive flesh. The other man's hands came to rest on top of his thighs while Mallory's mouth operated steadily like clockwork on him, taking him deeper and deeper.
James could feel how all his sadness was taken away and replaced by a comforting trance which was purely physical, but was about to entirely consume everything else. He forced himself to open his eyes to look down between his legs and into Mallory's exceptionally clear orbs which certainly were able to break a man. The other man's intense gaze was more than he could take. Despite his attempt, James started to moan loudly. Hearing his own voice, which sounded like the one of a caged animal, he came forcefully in the other man's mouth.
It appeared Gareth knew exactly what James needed. The moment he was able to breathe normally again, the older man kissed him, but this time more roughly. James tasted his own cum.
"Taking into account what we just did, I'd say I'm the top this time," Mallory casually informed him. James just nodded. 'This time' sounded promising. So it wouldn't be their only encounter. It wasn't only shagging out of sympathy. James wondered why he suddenly cared anyway. Having sex without feeling any attachment had never been a problem. To him fucking was like drinking or shooting or sleeping. He didn't have to feel anything while doing it. He'd never set his heart on anything or anyone except for Vesper and everyone knew how that had turned out.
If he had thought he was prepared for what came next, he had been wrong. The other man got on his knees again, this time pushing James legs further apart and the next thing he felt was Mallory's warm wet tongue licking and caressing his hole.
"Oh fuck." His body was relaxed and his muscles felt soft like butter from his first orgasm, but a new tickling and hot feeling wandered from his loins through his entire body. His hands got hold on Mallory's shoulders, to support him.
He was dying to touch the older man. His tongue wasn't enough – James wanted to feel more. He moaned impatiently, digging his nails into Mallory's skin. Thereupon the latter paused, looking at him.
"Get on with it," James just hissed, unable to communicate his desire in a polite way.
The man said nothing, but offered him his long fingers, which James obediently started to lick. Mallory entered him easily, his fingers now wet and covered with James own saliva. His movements were steady and circulating, for the only purpose to stretch him in order to take something bigger.
Mallory added more of his own spit as well as one more finger and repeated the process. James couldn't even remember his last ass fuck. Must have been years ago. The first thrust would burn like fuck. He tried to relax, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply though his nose when finally the other man stopped only to lean over him. James raised his head, bringing their faces closer together, kissing the older man's mouth again while he could already feel Mallory's erected cock at his entrance, but instead of thrusting forward he teased James, pressing himself against his cock, rubbing their hot, hard flesh against each other over and over again while he kiss-fucked his mouth.
James didn't hold back any longer, but moaned into the other man's mouth, pressing his abdomen overwhelmed by helpless lust towards his tormentor. He wanted to plead for mercy. It would be so easy to give in and beg for it, but instead he once more groaned in frustration. Of course Gareth Mallory wanted to show him who was in charge, who was in control of the situation, how better than controlling James' lust? Torturing him with the fine instrument of keeping him waiting after he had lured and seduced him with his old eyes and his boyish looking body – there was method to this madness.
James' hands reached for Mallory's cock, determined to take the matter into his own hands, when the man stopped him by pushing his hands away.
"You want it so bad, do you, 007?" he finally asked.
"Fuck yes, I do, Sir," James hissed.
Mallory's eyes bored into James. He just stared back when the older man suddenly moved forward and started thrusting into him. James forced his muscles to relax and not to give in to the urge of pushing him out again. The man's expression turned his attention away from the pain. The moment Mallory had fully entered him, he paused, obviously already close to his peak. His eyebrows were contracted, bringing out the frown lines between his eyebrows even more. He kept his eyes closed as if he had to shield himself from the sensual overload, biting down hard his upper lip while a groan left his thin lips. James reached for Mallory's ass, stroking and kneading his buttocks, begging for more contact, fully ignoring Mallory's struggle for self-control.
"Don't", Mallory commanded.
Strong hands clutched James' wrists, holding him fixated while Mallory slowly started moving in and out. It took him by surprise how determined and invasive Gareth Mallory could be. It suited him so much more than disguising as a bureaucrat, even though James very much appreciated the older man's wearing a three-piece suit once in a while.
Contrary to his assumptions, he enjoyed being dominated by another man. He had already guessed when Silva had made him the offer, but now he knew. James wanted to free his hands to stroke his cock, but Mallory didn't lose his grip on him, in fact his thrusts suddenly became rougher and faster. James arched his back in pain. Mallory looked angry and absent-minded now. He fucked him mechanically and obviously had no intention to stop. It felt like Mallory was going to channel all of his rage and fear and push it into James to get rid of it. Insane eyes didn't look at him, but through him, staring into empty space.
"Bloody hell, will you stop?" James hissed through gritted teeth, which brought Mallory back and slowed him down. When he looked at James, shame was written all over his softened features. He paused completely and let go of James' wrists. James immediately pushed him away.
"What have they done to you?" Only then he noticed that Mallory was trembling and sweating.
Hiding his face in his palms he sat upright and turned away.
James cursed, feeling his sore ass while he sat up as well. He reached for Mallory's shoulder, but said nothing, still feeling the man shaking under his touch. After a moment he got up and poured both a glass of her scotch. He held one of the glasses in front of Mallory, who took it and downed it at once.
"I think an apology is in order, Bond." His professional tone didn't convince James in the slightest.
"Skip that shit and get real. What happened back then during those three months?"
Mallory stared into the fire, but eventually replied: "Everything and nothing. I'm sure you read my file. They gave me the standard procedure."
"That doesn't explain your unrestrained rage."
"If it was as unrestrained as you say, how does it come that I have it under control most of the time?"
James emptied his glass as well. "It's hidden under a well-trained surface of professionalism and emotional numbness. It doesn't take much to unleash it…as I experienced tonight. We just witnessed how it can turn good men into maniacs."
"Well, 007, you were tortured by Le Chiffre, bloody Silva was tortured by the Chinese, isn't it common to feel rage once in a while?"
James' hand wandered from Mallory's shoulder over his chest und further down his belly until it reached his half-erected cock. Bond nodded: "Of course, he did torture me, the bastard almost crushed my balls, but he didn't fuck me against my will."
"We all got fucked in one way or another. Why do you want me to talk about it?" Mallory looked down at the other man's hand which had stilled.
"It will set you free."
"Not likely."
"Give it a try."
James stared at the older man.
"Very well then: they tortured, humiliated and fucked me to the point where I begged them to kill me. I begged them to end it. I begged for mercy, but I didn't tell them what they wanted to hear so they finally released me, but before that they broke every single bone that wasn't already broken and left me in the middle of nowhere to die. Those bastards finally showed some mercy. But I woke up…my face all bloody and cold from snow. It was dark and suddenly felt terrified. All I could do was to crawl on all fours back to civilization. It took me five hours until I reached a patrol station at some motorway. Are you fucking pleased now?"
Silence filled the room and seemed to stretch a moment into eternity.
"Do you trust me?" James tried to smile.
"I could try."
James didn't say anything more, but kissed Mallory on the mouth. They really were even. Their lips and tongues tasted after the yellowish liquid of the 1962 Macallan. Their bodies were bruised as well as their souls. They were soul mates in disguise. The room was as quiet as their love making. James didn't feel like fucking any longer, although he was good at it. He hadn't made love for a long time. So their touching, kissing, biting, sucking and thrusting was slow and gentle. They shut the world out for a while and went to a better place, a place without guns, nightmares, enemies, torture, fear, blood, pain, screaming, fighting, winning, losing people and the choice between surviving or dying.
At some point during the night James remembered his own truthful saying: "Someone usually dies," and caught himself hoping that this one time would be the exeption to the rule.
The End.