"You don't know how much you hurt her," James growled, his dark eyes menacing.
John smirked, "Hurt her? Or you."
James roared with anger, his large hands gripping the collar of John's shirt. His fingers fisted the SS material yanking John closer, their breath mingling in the dark bunker. John's thin lips were set in a hard line as he glared back at James, watching the anger pour from the doctor's very soul. James' breath came in painful gasps, having yet to recover from John's torture. The bunker was quiet save for their breathing, neither moved as James' emotions ran rampant in his gaze.
"Feel better?" John murmured, a taunting smile forming on his lips.
James breathed, "Much," but he did not step away or lower his hands from John's shirt.
The shadows of the dimly lit bunker seemed to squeeze them together, James' anger at John wrapping around them cutting them off from the war going on above them. John's hands balled into fists at his sides, his pain surfacing for the first time in decades. James took a step closer, their bodies brushing as one hand curled around John's black tie. John remained stiff, holding his emotions inside as James' eyes bore into him, angry and pained.
James had her, Helen, the love of his life. James had his friends who had once been their friends. In that moment he hated James, anger welled up inside his chest threatening to break free. His hands moved to James' neck, bruising as his fingers dug into the skin of his once best friend. A low growl escaped James as both men stood a hairsbreadth apart, gripping each other in rage. John pushed James against the concrete wall, moving his body against the smaller man barring his escape.
"You have everything I want," John growled, his face inches from James'.
His hands tightened around James' neck, his nails drawing blood as he looked into the other man's eyes. James merely looked back, his body stiff with resentment a smirk tugging at his lips. At the sight of James' smirk John felt something snap inside him, the darkness within him pulled him under. The darkness that had pushed them together once before, in the dark closets of Oxford. John crashed his lips against James' roughly, his tongue forcing its way into the other man's mouth. James moaned, returning the pressure as he tugged at John's tie pulling him closer. John ground his hips against James, pinning him to the wall as he devoured his mouth.
Rage coursed through them into each other, all the pain of years long past buried in silence echoing throughout the room. James tugged at John's tie, loosening it and tossing it aside his hands making quick work of two buttons before John took his wrist and pinned his hands to his sides. James growled, biting down on John's lower lip hard enough to drag a moan from the other man. James took control of the kiss, his lips moving against John's in earnest using John as an outlet for his rage. His teeth tugged at John's lip before trailing down his neck, nipping at the pale flesh at the base of John's throat.
"Damn you," John growled, his hips moving against James as the doctor bit down on his collarbone. James freed his hands, moving them quickly to John's belt. James' lips continued their trek down to the last bit of skin before it disappeared beneath his black shirt. John braced his hands on either side of James' head as he felt the doctor's large hand rub his length through his trousers. James captured his lips once more, swallowing John's answering groan. James gripped John by the waistband of his black pants and pushed off from the concrete wall. John allowed James to move him across the room to the steel door. John gasped as James slammed him into it, his head snapping back against the metal. James ground his arousal against John's causing both men to moan in pleasure.
James bit down on John's earlobe before growling, "I should hate you."
John moaned, his large hands gripping the front of James' shirt pulling him closer. James heard a button pop free of his shirt, but paid no mind as John's hands danced down the front of his shirt, over the machine strapped to his chest. John's fingers dipped below James' trousers, teasing as both men stared at one another.
John dragged his nails across the skin of James' hips murmuring, "Yet you cannot hate me."
James took his lips once more, his hands tugging once again at the collar of John's shirt. John moaned into James' mouth as the doctor's tongue traced over his teeth before massaging his tongue. John's hands settled on James' hips as he thrust against him. James was aching with need, all thoughts of the war gone from his mind.
Then he saw her face in his mind, her red curls framing her face. The way her lips felt against his, how her body seemed to be made to fit his. James pulled away, his lips swollen, his neck bruised and bleeding. John stood and righted his clothes, his eyes on his old friend.
"No I cannot, but she is my world," James said, his eyes meeting John's in the dim light.
John chuckled, "I said the same once before, before I lost everything."
James stiffened, anger coursing through him once more as he yelled, "You destroyed her you bastard! I will never hurt her, I would rather die."
The amusement faded from John's eyes, replaced quickly with a shroud of apathy, "She has you now, James. Take care of her the way I couldn't."
Sounds echoed from behind the door, boots moving quickly along the corridor to the bunker. Orders called out in German, Korba was returning. John stepped away from the door as Korba and three German soldiers entered the bunker, Helen between them.
"Helen," John called, smiling slightly.
The surprise evident in her eyes as Helen replied, "Unbelievable."
Helen's eyes then fell to James, worry and relief mixed in her gaze. James gazed back, his eyes softening silently letting her know he was alright.
John watched them, his heart breaking but he kept his gaze level. There was a time when the three of them would be united, along with Nigel and Nikola. Now he stood apart from them, his friends, he was on his own. His heart had beat unevenly for so long, now it lay shattered beneath his ribcage. Yet he would never stop wanting the past, before the source blood. He yearned for London, for a time when his friends looked upon him with compassion and acceptance. John's eyes returned to Helen, oh how he loved her so.