Alec was terrified. Not one word was said while Bond was driving them through London. In an unspoken agreement they made their way up into their bedroom once they arrived home. No glance was exchanged as they stood in the room, facing away from each other. The pain in Alec's shoulder was grounding, somehow keeping the mounting panic at bay.
Every small detail in the room stood out to Alec as he looked anywhere but Bond. The large windows, facing south with a wide view over the Thames and the London Eye; the smell of detergent, a different brand from last time they came home; the functional furniture, barely used; white walls, shadows being cast by their bodies—
"Stop it!"
Bond's voice cut through Alec's mind like a diamond through glass. Alec's hands were clenched into fists and his body trembling. Bond was standing close, too close, right up in Alec's personal space. Challenging. Provoking Alec into action.
Still, Bond had to take the first step. Closing the space between them, he took Alec's face in his hands and kissed him open mouthed, pushing against the closed lips forcefully. Now, Alec retaliated. Opening his lips, his tongue found its way into Bond's mouth. Sucking, biting into lips, grabbing shirts with eager hands, tearing fabric apart, buttons falling to the floor as their clothes became an unsalvageable mess of ripped and shredded textiles.
They smelled and tasted each other, the sweat, the fear, the need, and want. Entangled in each others naked bodies, wrangled down on the floor, fighting to get the upper hand. Saliva and blood mixed with tears, the pain in Alec's shoulder cutting through the haze like lighting on the night sky. Beautiful and terrifying, purifying in its intensity. Alec heaved for air, to control the pain, to forget, to remember. His fingers dug into strong muscles, leaving trails of crescents on Bond's back. Drizzles of blood, painting the white bedsheets with a deep red, the colour of their relationship, telling the tale of trust and loyalty, hope and despair. Iron, salt, musk, the sweeter smell of semen—the scents enveloped them, propelling them forward by their desperation and rage, driving them into a furious crescendo.
Alec smelled and tasted blood when he cried out his climax. Bond followed with his teeth buried in Alec's good shoulder, grunting out his release, mingling their come between their frantically moving bodies.
When they finally stilled and their breathing had slowed, the usual smile and laughter of the afterglow was replaced by silent tears and a snifling nose, which had Alec angrily shoving the back of his hand across his face. Bond held him down, his body draped across Alec's, his face buried in the pillow beside Alec's neck. When he finally rolled off of him, Bond's face was red as well, his eyes dry.
The room was utter chaos, as was Alec's mind. The bliss of deepening their connection seemed like a long lost fight against the inevitability of the curse of being a sentinel. He was too exhausted to think about possible solutions or the upcoming psych evaluations. All he wanted was to crawl into Bond's embrace, to be held and kept safe.
Bond stood up and made a token effort of cleaning both of them. Like Alec, he was too tired to resist his growing despair. He managed to get Alec to take some pain killers, before he pulled him into a tight embrace, arranging the soiled blankets around them—and both of them fell into an uneasy sleep.