Silva leaned forward and took the other agent's lips. James' eyes did not close but lowered in subtle display of submission that the cyber-terrorist caught because his own eyes were open. The kiss itself was also telling. Perhaps what Silva had interpreted as a bluff earlier had some truth to it and the well-traveled agent had indeed been on the receiving end of some unorthodox interrogations before today.
Bond's level of experience in the area was apparent in the way he handled the contact. He seemed to know not to dominate the kiss and allowed Silva to enter him and explore at will. There was no shrinking away in the kiss and Silva was surprised when he felt Bond's tongue stroking his own, almost invitingly. The kiss was its own separate interrogation, it seemed and Bond approached it with the same bold, ease as anything else.
He was a better agent than Silva anticipated.
The ex-MI6 agent pressed deeper into the kiss, as if to test the calm man's resolve further. Soon, the kiss became a challenge between the two agents. However, instead of matching Silva's aggression, James fought back with subtlety. The more invasively and explicitly Silva kissed him, the more submissively Bond allowed it. This was not the 007 Silva was anticipating at all. And all at once, it clicked. Silva got it. Bond was playing him too.
Silva Pulled away and found Bond's eyes on him as cool and undaunted as they were before. His breathing was calm, betraying none of the panic or concealed discomfort Silva had expected and intended. Had he so wildly underestimated the agent?
Eying his captor lowly with his shirt unbuttoned and legs parted, Bond looked to Silva like a consummate pet.
James Bond was good indeed.
Silva almost laughed as it all came together. Always the professional, he thought to himself. His mouth broadened into a large smile, but he wasn't trying to unnerve his captive now, this smile was from genuine enjoyment. James Bond wasn't a simple agent to be hacked like all the rest. He was a predator, like Silva, and he could play the game as well.
Silva licked his lips, eying the flushed and swelling mouth that stood out against the pallor of damp skin of the bound man before him.
Agent 007 stared back at him passively. No doubt waiting for his captor's next move, Silva mused. Patience was paramount to the best double-0 agents.
Silva had options. He could have conceded defeat and moved on to a more effective method of dismantling the wizened agent; He could have called him out on his obvious- albeit well-executed- performance, and commended the man as kin. As Silva stared at the blue-eyed agent, he knew he would do neither. A thrill rose in Silva at the prospect of a challenge in the form of the famed agent he'd caught in his web. It was fortune that brought them together. He would enjoy the fleeting moment while it was there. Of course, he didn't need to prove that he was the best MI6 agent there ever was. Beating this man would give him no more sense of achievement and valor than he already had.
However, it would be interesting.
His hands slid up his captive's thighs again before sliding back down to his knees.
James said, in his composed voice, as if they were playing a game of cards. And maybe they were, his eyes were steel and unblinking.
James said in his crisp, direct voice and Silva could barely contain himself.
Once again, The cyber-terrorist had to pull away. His hands slid from Bond's knee and he fell back into his chair, unable to suppress his broad smile.
He laughed and his head fell back,
Bond's stared back at him and his eyes were stunning at the very least.
Silva sighed.
This could either be very fun or very lethal, he thought to himself. Was there any separating the two? His large smile faded and his gaze fell back onto the agent tied to the chair in front of him.
How long would 007 keep this up, Silva wondered and he felt a thrill at the prospect of finding out.
Silva leaned forward again and placed his hands on James' knees firmly.
He watched the agent steadily as he slid his hands up.