A/N: Inspired by Tatalina who suggested a mission-related one-shot. It did probably not turn out quite as expected.
Beware of lime.
Disclaimer: I disclaim Alex Rider.
Stranded
They jumped off the deck together, escaping the smothering flames that licked at the ship, luring it down into the deathly embrace of the sea. The shore was at least three miles away and they had to bring a considerable distance between themselves and the wreck before it started sinking and possibly dragged them along into dark depths. Pushing their bodies to the limit, they swam.
The white hot sun burned down onto him without mercy. The light penetrated even through his clenched shut eyelids, reaching his eyes in a blinding red colour. His ears were still ringing from the sound of bullets ricochetting off iron walls in the belly of a ship, leaders shouting orders frantically, steps of steel-capped boots echoing over the chaos. He was sore and exhausted from fighting and swimming, but he had been lucky on the part of injuries. He felt a few scratches on his right cheek stinging due to the salt water and his beige shorts had been ripped and turned pink where a shot had grazed his left thigh.
Ben waited for his breathing to even out with his eyes still shut. Then he groaned and sat up, leaning on his elbows in the bright, warm sand. Straining his eyes he could make out the silhouette of the ship, burning and sinking on the horizon. While he was relatively sure that they had left no one of the crew alive, it was only when he saw the smoke that was billowing up from the wreck that a surge of relief and accomplishment hit him. He turned to his left, regarding Alex who was seated cross-legged on the beach, fumbling with a transmitter, attempting to send a distress call to MI6 to pick them up.
"Good morning, Sleepyhead," he greeted absent-mindedly without looking up from his task of connecting wires and pushing buttons on a device that had seen better days.
Ben surveyed their surroundings, taking in the palm trees, the wide beach and the clear, turquoise sea... the island they were more or less stranded on could have been cut out from a holiday magazine for the rich and famous. Private beach deluxe. An idea that made his lips curl in a mischievous smirk popped into his head.
"Hey," he said, catching Alex' attention.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay? Hurt anywhere?" Ben inquired while assessing his partner's appearance. The only injuries he could clearly see were a split lip and a purple bruise on his right forearm.
"Nope, I'm fine. Some scratches, some bruises, the usual. Nothing life-threatening."
"In that case, how are your survival skills?"
Alex snorted derisively. "Have you seen my immaculate record?"
Ben rolled his eyes at the display of sarcastic pomposity, but did not press the matter any further. "So you're fairly good, right?"
"Make an educated guess," Alex chaffed slyly and continued when he did not receive a reply. "Why are you even asking?"
"Because this can wait a few more days," Ben explained, leaning over and taking the transmitter from Alex' loose grip. He put the device in an empty pocket of his utility belt and zipped it shut resolutely despite Alex's sceptical exclamation of "What are you doing?"
"I'm booking a holiday on a tropical island for the two of us," Ben responded simply as if what MI6 considered slacking off was the most natural thing in the world for him.
"How irresponsible of you, agent Daniels!" Alex gasped in playful consternation, eyes twinkling with his true opinion on the idea. He gave in to the incessant gravity between them, slowly snaking an arm around Ben's waist, keeping him close while he lowered himself onto the sand.
"Does that mean I get sex on the beach?"
"You're too young to be drinking," Ben chastised him teasingly, running a hand down Alex' chest, enjoying the feeling of a heartbeat accelerating in anticipation.
"Whoever said I was talking about alcohol?"
Ben let a hand wander to the back of his neck, pulling his lips against his own, giving him a taste of what to look forward to. "Well, in that case..." he murmured before kissing him softly, soundly, skilfully.
Alex hummed appreciatively when a hand slipped under his shirt, caressing, teasing, and grabbed Ben's backside, pushing his hips towards the other's in a demanding manner. His lips found the other's neck, brushing and nibbling and biting, relishing in the throaty groans his action elicited. Shirts came off, fingers fumbled with buckles and buttons. Ben trailed his tongue along Alex' navel before slowly moving lower...
All the tension of the mission faded into soft waves and careless moans, bright sunshine and bare skin, glittering water and flickering vision speckled with colourful spots until the sheer sensation became almost too much to take.
They separated and collapsed back into the sand, breath heavy and blood rushing in their ears.
ooo
"Your understanding of taking a holiday is quite James Bond-esque, if I may say so," Alex stated, lying with his arms crossed under his head, dressed sloppily in only his shorts, glancing down at Ben who had nestled into his lap with a giddy, satisfied grin plastered across his face that just would not come off.
"So?" He queried in an uninterested fashion.
Alex grinned coyly.
"I like it."
