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The target had a type and that type appeared to be attractive, lean, toned men. That meant it had to be Ethan or Brandt. Not that Brandt was trying to be vain or anything but he knew he was good-looking enough that sometimes people were into him. In this line of work, it didn’t help to be coy about your own assets; sometimes you needed to use them.
(“As a nerd, I’m withdrawing myself from the running,” Benji had said after Jane pointed out that with all of his field training, he was actually probably fit enough to count.)
“I’ll do it,” Brandt said.
Ethan looked to him, absolutely nothing in his expression revealing his thoughts on that. “You sure you want to?”
Brandt shrugged. “Hey, if it means there’s no chance I’ll have to make a twenty-five foot jump into an oven to my probable death? Yeah, I’ll do it.”
“I caught you,” Benji muttered.
So that was how Brandt ended up walking into a high end party, dressed in a dark gray suit with a waistcoat that Benji said made him look ‘distinguished yet sexy’ and a sapphire tie that he knew made his eyes look bluer. Jane had whistled but Ethan had only flicked his gaze up and down, face a blank mask, giving him one sharp nod.
Brandt had been a little disappointed, honestly. He looked good. The least Ethan could do was appreciate it.
He located the target – Thomas Sullivan, forty-one, dark-haired and stocky – at the bar so he strolled over and ordered a drink. Turned out that was the extent of attention-grabbing he needed to do. The flirting was rote and effortless; it was almost embarrassing how easy a mark this guy was.
‘It’s the waistcoat,’ Benji said into Brandt’s earpiece. ‘It’s doing all the work for you. See, you should always listen to me. I give great advice!’
As Brandt leaned into the mark, he surreptitiously flicked Benji off behind Sullivan’s back, looking up into the camera and knowing Benji would see it.
‘Never any appreciation.’
When Sullivan spoke, his warm breath fluttered over Brandt’s ear. “This party is getting dull, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I kind of thought it was just starting to get interesting.”
“I happen to know there’s somewhere more private where we could have a lot more fun.” Sullivan put his hand on Brandt’s thigh.
Yep, this guy definitely didn’t know the meaning of the word subtle. Rich guys didn’t need to, Brandt supposed. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
Jane was eyeing him from the other end of the bar. He gave her the slightest nod of his head as he stood with Sullivan.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she murmured through his earpiece.
Ethan was standing beside a table along Brandt’s path to the doors. Brandt very briefly glanced towards him and it was just the same as before, that perfect blank mask Ethan had worn during the briefing.
Fuck him, Brandt decided, and leaned over to run his tongue over the shell of Sullivan’s ear. Sullivan faltered as he walked and then his hand slid down to grasp Brandt’s ass.
“Eager,” Sullivan said, trying to laugh, but his tone was too hoarse for it. He would fuck Brandt here in this room if he could, that was pretty obvious.
Brandt imagined he could feel Ethan’s gaze heavy on him as he exited the party.
Sullivan remained handsy as he led Brandt up into the private areas of his huge fucking mansion. This was the part where Brandt had to shut off his brain a little so his skin wouldn’t crawl at this guy pawing at him; he wasn’t exactly a good guy, obviously. He was into weapons development and those weapons tended to end up in places where they caused a lot of damage, much of it to innocent people.
They passed quite a lot of security on the way but no one looked twice at Sullivan bringing some entertainment home. Brandt winked saucily at a few of them, just for fun.
Predictably, the bedroom was practically all bed, like Sullivan wanted to be prepared for all potential orgy possibilities. Brandt already knew there would be a camera in here (actually, two cameras, with different views of the bed) because Benji had hacked into the security system while Brandt had been at work at the bar, but he surreptitiously sought out the location anyway, for his own benefit.
Gross, honestly. The only reason a guy like Sullivan had cameras in his bedroom was so he could watch himself having sex later. Probably none of his partners had consented; he certainly hadn’t mentioned it to Brandt.
Mistaking Brandt’s assessment of the room for interest, Sullivan crept up behind him to slide his arm around Brandt’s waist and pull him in. Brandt relaxed his features and gave him his best sultry expression; Sullivan looked downright predatory. Brandt wondered if this was how baby bunnies felt right as the owl swooped in.
Then again, he knew he was actually the owl in this scenario.
Sullivan was grabbing his ass again; Brandt tugged him in and kissed him. When Sullivan’s tongue swept over his bottom lip, Brandt opened his mouth and made the kiss wet and dirty, moaned into it. He shoved Sullivan backwards until he landed on the bed and crawled over him.
“So very eager,” Sullivan said. “You’ve wanted this since you were trying to sit in my lap back at the bar.”
That wasn’t quite how Brandt remembered the scene at the bar but he gave Sullivan a coy smile. “Why don’t you give it to me, then?” He reached for Sullivan’s belt to unbuckle it.
Sullivan was obsessed with his ass, kept squeezing it and digging in his fingers. It was fairly obvious what he wanted. Brandt rolled his hips, ground into Sullivan’s crotch, made himself moan again like he was enjoying himself. He pulled out Sullivan’s hard dick and licked his palm, gripping it and twisting his wrist.
“Fuck,” Sullivan swore, his head falling back onto the pillows. “If you… if you keep going like that, we won’t get to have any real fun.”
“What, you can’t get it up again for me?” Brandt leaned forward to kiss him again, his hand on Sullivan’s dick between their bodies. It didn’t take long; he moved back just enough to keep Sullivan’s come from splashing on his suit, letting him come all over himself instead, wiping his hand on Sullivan’s nice sheets.
“Oh my God,” Sullivan moaned, right before Brandt flipped out his syringe and jabbed Sullivan in the neck. His eyes fluttered shut and he was out in seconds.
Brandt adjusted his suit and got off the bed. “Sedative worked. Thanks, Benji.”
‘Uh, right. Yes. You’re welcome.’
He located Sullivan’s private computer and pulled the USB out of his shoe. “You have access to this?”
‘You should be in. Just stick the USB into the drive. Should download automatically.’
Brandt couldn’t stop himself from wiping his hand again while he waited for the download percentage to tick up. “Okay, got it. We good?”
‘We’re good. I’ll…’ Benji sounded a bit strangled and then coughed. ‘I’ll delete the camera footage. Obviously. And, uh, the audio. From comms.’
“Great,” Brandt muttered, inserting the USB back into his shoe. He felt vaguely sorry for Benji actually; he wondered if there was some way he could communicate ‘sorry you had to watch me fuck some gross arms dealer on camera’ without having to actually say it. “On my way out.”
Jane’s voice came through next, soft, concerned. ‘You okay?’
“All good.” Brandt knew why she sounded that way; it made him uncomfortable. He preferred it when she wasn’t trying to be kind, when she was brusque, when she teased, when she gave him sly smiles. “Sorry if my sex voice is going to be in your dreams later.”
That made her laugh and when she spoke again, she sounded more like Agent Carter. ‘Only in your dreams, Brandt.’
He made it out without incident. Confidence went a long way and he had been fairly conspicuous on his way in; he didn’t expect many of Sullivan’s boy toys stayed more than a few hours. He saluted one of the guards he remembered from earlier and the face the guy made almost made Brandt laugh.
He handed over the drive to Ethan, back at the safehouse. Benji and Jane had made themselves scarce; he couldn’t really blame them. These sorts of missions were always awkward.
Ethan was still dressed for the party, in a slim fitting navy suit that of course he looked flawless in. Brandt was trying not to notice. He itched to change out of his own, any urge for Ethan to notice him mostly drowned out by the memory of Sullivan’s hands on his ass.
Ethan didn’t seem ready to let him go, though. His face wasn’t the blank mask he had given Brandt earlier; he looked kind of pissed off, honestly. “Was that entirely necessary?”
“Which part? Got the job done, didn’t I?”
“I’m not sure you needed to be that thorough.”
“How far we go on a honeypot mission is our own call, yeah? So I made my call. He didn’t even feel the sedative, not after that.”
“You could have given him the sedative when you got him on the bed. You had opportunities even before that, when he was groping your ass and shoving his tongue down your throat.”
Ethan’s tight, angry expression suddenly seemed to snap and his eyes widened just enough to be noticeable. He knew he had made a mistake; he was waiting to see if he’d been caught.
Unfortunately for him, Brandt wasn’t an idiot. “How do you know that?” Brandt asked. “You were at the party.” Those details were too specific to have come from the audio and he definitely wasn’t guessing.
“I left the party right after you did,” Ethan admitted.
“And?” Brandt needed Ethan to say it.
“I joined Benji.”
“You watched me.”
“Don’t be mad at Benji. He wanted to tell you.”
Brandt wondered if that was actually why Benji had been so awkward. He had been stuck next to Ethan, who had intentionally joined him to watch Brandt fuck a target on camera without Brandt knowing about it. “I’m not mad at Benji. Benji was doing his job. I want to know why you were watching me. Didn’t trust me to get it done?”
“If I didn’t trust you then you wouldn’t be here. Whatever weird hang-ups you still have about your skills, that’s on you.”
Brandt felt that like a stab wound but he ignored it. “Then why were you watching me?”
“Why did you put on that show, at the party?” Ethan countered. “You think I didn’t see you look at me right before you… licked his fucking ear? You’re telling me that was part of the job? He was already taking you back to his bed!”
“I didn’t want him to change his mind,” Brandt said but that was obviously bullshit and he could feel himself start to flush. It hadn’t been about the mark at all; he had been frustrated with Ethan for stupid, petty reasons and he’d let it affect him.
“Change his mind,” Ethan said, laughing, but it sounded bitter. “He looked like he wanted to eat you.”
“Felt like that, too.” But there was something in Ethan’s tone that was starting to click, something trying to slot into place in Brandt’s head, something to explain the extent of his anger.
Because it shouldn’t have been a big deal. Ethan could have said he didn’t think everything Brandt had done was necessary and that could have been it. There was a reason he wouldn’t let it go.
“Ethan, why did you watch me on the cameras?”
His expression flickered to something too quick for Brandt to catch and then smoothed out again, to a sort of stern, righteous upset. “Because I didn’t want you to do it. It should have been me.”
“You should have stopped me then.”
“You volunteered. What reason could I have given to stop you?”
“I don’t know, Ethan. What reason did you have?”
Ethan was clenching his fist by his side, his throat working like he was struggling to find the words and couldn’t quite get them to come out. “Because I didn’t want him to fucking touch you,” Ethan finally ground out, and then he was grabbing Brandt flush to his body, kissing him senseless.
Brandt felt the air rush out of his lungs and couldn’t do anything but kiss Ethan back, clinging to his hips and opening his mouth and letting Ethan erase the taste of Sullivan. This time the moan that shuddered out of him was real, and when he ground his hips against Ethan it was because he wanted nothing more than to get closer.
Because it was Ethan, but it was also fucking Ethan, who didn’t make any sense, and none of this made sense. He breathed against Ethan’s mouth for a second, trying to control himself.
Then he was laughing, though he didn’t quite know why; it wasn’t like anything was funny. “I don’t get you, Ethan. We fuck a few times and then you ignore me and you didn’t even look twice at me in this suit, but suddenly you can’t stand the idea of some mark touching me? What the fuck? I don’t get what game you’re playing.”
“You think I’m playing a game? You think this is the act?” Ethan was practically growling the words and suddenly Brandt understood.
Ethan’s perfect blank mask, when he really didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling. It was how he looked after a rough mission, or when he knew he couldn’t react because it would give him away.
His face would have given him away. So he pretended.
Brandt was a little uncertain what to do with that so he took the safer course. “You do think I look hot in this suit.”
“You don’t need me to tell you you look hot in that suit.”
“No, but it’s still nice to hear.”
“You look hot,” Ethan whispered into Brandt’s ear, tonguing over his earlobe, making Brandt shiver. He nuzzled into Brandt’s neck, some of his previous anger seeping back into his next words. “You smell like him.”
“Yeah, he went a bit heavy on the cologne. Smelled expensive though. What, you don’t like it?” Brandt knew he was being a dick; it still surprised him enough to yelp when Ethan smacked him on the ass, hard.
“I hate smelling him on you,” Ethan said, low and intense. “I hated watching his hands on you, watching him touch you.”
“Wasn’t my favorite thing either,” Brandt admitted.
“Why did you prolong it?”
“I don’t know, I… I just thought…” Brandt’s ears felt hot and there was a prickle of shame in his belly. “I guess… some of it… part of it… definitely the part when we were leaving… was I wanted to piss you off. Didn’t seem like you cared, and I wanted you to care.”
Saying it out loud was so humiliating. Brandt wasn’t certain what he had wanted Ethan to do; it was a mission. He had only wanted… He didn’t know…
Ethan grabbed Brandt by the shoulders and shook him once; he looked a bit wild, like if he saw Sullivan right now he would punch him in the face, or throw him over the side of the building. It was kind of hot, which probably said bad things about Brandt’s sexual fantasies, he figured. He wondered if he could encourage Ethan to manhandle him; he would definitely be into that. He wasn’t certain yet if Ethan would be.
He was edging towards yes, though.
“I cared,” Ethan said, the words quick and sharp, his eyes fierce. He released Brandt’s shoulders and gripped his wrist. He yanked, pulling Brandt along with him.
A yes to the manhandling, then, maybe. Brandt’s dick was definitely becoming interested in the proceedings.
They made it to the room where Ethan had been sleeping; it wasn’t more than a bed and a desk, the mattress a bit sagging, the blankets scratchy-looking. The light was dim and made Ethan’s skin glow burnished gold.
“Take your pants off,” Ethan said, his commanding tone making Brandt’s dick swell a little more.
“Uh,” Brandt said. He glanced at the door.
Ethan kicked it closed. “Pants. Off.”
“Yep. Pants off. Got it.” Brandt fumbled with his own buckle, his fingers feeling clumsy. His pants ended up caught around his ankles because he forgot the part where his shoes needed to be removed first. By the time he actually took his pants off and threw them across the room, his ears were burning but his dick was very ready for action. He stood there in his briefs, watching Ethan watch him. He felt a bit silly, with his waistcoat and suit jacket still on, but attempted to ignore it.
“It’s not supposed to bother me,” Ethan said, the line of his body rigid with tension. “It’s not professional. You were doing a job.” He moved closer, sliding his hands down to cup Brandt’s ass, and this time, he wanted it, wanted Ethan’s hands all over him. “But it made me furious thinking of him touching you, watching him touch you. You made me furious, encouraging him, pushing it so far.” Ethan smacked Brandt’s ass again, jolting him forward into Ethan.
“You gonna do something about that?” Brandt was trying for defiant but he was pretty sure he sounded too breathless for it to succeed.
Ethan yanked Brandt’s underwear down so it fell to his ankles. Brandt kicked it off, trying to figure out why that had been so insanely hot to him. Manhandling adjacent, maybe? Or maybe just that it was Ethan. Maybe he found everything Ethan did insanely hot.
“Get on the bed,” Ethan said.
“Make me,” came rushing out of Brandt without his full intent; his dick was clearly running things now and he really wanted to see if Ethan would push him around. He also apparently didn’t mind if he sounded like he had just walked off the set of some cliché porn.
“Brandt,” Ethan said, and proceeded to muscle him back until his ass landed on the mattress, making a creaky sound when he hit it. In fairness, Brandt hadn’t tried to put up that much of a fight. Just enough to feel Ethan’s grip, to feel the force behind his movements.
Ethan was too short to loom over anyone but he was doing his best, standing between Brandt’s legs. He shoved Brandt until his back hit the bed. “Move back.”
Ethan’s tone was having quite an effect on Brandt’s arousal. He scooted back, eyes dropping down to Ethan’s crotch. He was still in that damned suit but the line of his cock looked thick and hard. At least it wasn’t only Brandt, then.
Brandt tugged at his collar, loosening his tie. Before he could so much as pop the first button, Ethan said, “Leave that on.”
“What? But—”
“Leave it on.”
God, his voice. Brandt put his hands on the mattress, leaning back onto his forearms. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, watching Ethan look down at his very obvious erection. He spread his legs. “Seemed like you wanted to do more than look.”
The corner of Ethan’s mouth tipped up, the faint edge of half a smirk. “Don’t rush me. I have a plan. Get on your knees.”
Okay, Brandt liked the sound of this plan. He did consider for half a second pushing back but in all honesty, he was too eager to even pretend that he didn’t want to do exactly what Ethan said. He slowly turned over, propping himself onto his hands and knees, looking back at Ethan over his shoulder.
Ethan, still in his fine suit, looking like he could walk right back into that party. Except, Brandt noticed, that his tongue was darting out to wet his lips and he was reaching to loosen his tie, yanking it from his collar and tossing it aside. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt, the same thing he had stopped Brandt from doing.
He knelt one knee onto the mattress, making it creak beneath the pressure. His hand was so gentle as he stroked over the bare skin of Brandt’s ass, making him shiver. “I wanted to run into that room and yank him off you,” Ethan began, voice soft, tone conversational. “He had no right to touch you, to put his hands on you. And there you were, letting him. Encouraging him.”
“Ethan,” Brandt started to say, and then Ethan squeezed, fingertips digging into Brandt’s skin.
“No one gets to touch you but me,” Ethan said, firm and certain, and hit Brandt’s asscheek with the flat of his hand.
Brandt gasped, shocked, and then… not. Somehow this wasn’t surprising at all.
Maybe he had known this was coming from that first smack.
“I guess you still need to learn that,” Ethan said and hit him again.
“You’re not,” Brandt started and then grunted when Ethan’s hand made contact with his ass again, knocking him forward. “You’re not very good at keeping track of your things.”
Shit. He had just called himself one of Ethan’s things. What the fuck.
When he looked back over his shoulder again, he could see the amused uptick of the corner of Ethan’s mouth. “Generally my things aren’t so eager to leave.” He slapped his hand against Brandt’s other cheek, then two more times in rapid succession.
Brandt hissed. He dropped down onto his forearms, leaning his forehead down. He didn’t feel like he should be this turned on but he could feel his dick swelling even as his ass stung. It felt like… Ethan was claiming ownership and Brandt knew that was what he wanted, for Ethan to want him as much as Brandt wanted Ethan, for Ethan to be jealous of some fucking idiot mark only because he had touched Brandt.
Ethan ran his hands softly over Brandt’s sensitive skin. “Is this what you want? Is it better when it’s me?”
“Fuck,” Brandt moaned into his forearms. “Ethan. Like you don’t know.”
The smack of palm to skin was so loud that the sound startled Brandt almost more than the sensation. “Tell me,” Ethan said, with another slap.
“You,” Brandt managed to say. “I only want you, you asshole.”
The next slap still stung but then Ethan pressed his lips to Brandt’s sore skin and Brandt actually whimpered. “Good,” Ethan murmured, and then still hit him again.
Brandt couldn’t help himself; he canted his hips down towards the mattress, thrusting against it, desperate for friction. Ethan wrapped an arm around him and yanked him back up before smacking him so hard Brandt cried out.
“We’re not doing that yet,” Ethan said. He slowly dragged his hand over Brandt’s spine, beneath the rumpled suit he was still wearing, down to his ass, a gentle caress, before he slapped him.
“Ethan. Ethan, please.” Brandt was humiliated to be begging but couldn’t stop himself. He pushed his ass back towards Ethan, sore and needy. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt this desperate before but he didn’t want to examine that too closely.
Ethan draped himself over Brandt’s back, the clothed bulge of his cock pressing against Brandt’s balls. His breath was hot against Brandt’s ear. “Do you get it? Do you understand now?”
“Yes,” Brandt said, “yes,” not even sure what he was agreeing to.
“Do you?” Ethan lightly dragged Brandt’s earlobe between his teeth.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
Ethan pushed Brandt over until he was on his back looking up, Ethan kneeling on the mattress beside him. “I think you’d say anything right now to get me to touch you.”
Brandt gnawed at his lip. “Maybe,” he admitted.
Ethan’s laugh sounded so good, warm and joyous, and it thrilled Brandt to hear it. “Okay. I think you’ve been pretty good.” He reached for Brandt’s tie, unknotting it, and then undid the buttons on his jacket, his waistcoat, and then his shirt. He spread them open and laughed again. “I still can’t find skin after all that.” He tugged at the hem of Brandt’s undershirt.
Brandt sat up to yank everything off, not caring if he wrecked it. He just wanted Ethan to touch him, God, fuck. Still Ethan didn’t, though, just sitting there looking at him, though his gaze was hungry.
“You are really hot, you know?” he said, like it was still a bit of a revelation, like he hadn’t already seen Brandt naked, like they had never fucked.
“I know,” Brandt said, irritated and flattered all at once, “so fucking touch me, won’t you?”
Ethan’s grin was wide and bright and amused. “I should slap you again for that mouth,” he said, but he didn’t. Instead he kissed Brandt, hot and dirty, and shoved him down onto his back, crouching over him. He dragged his lips over Brandt’s jaw, his neck, his chest, finally really touching him, except not the place Brandt really wanted him to touch.
He tried pushing his hips up to grind into Ethan but Ethan was resting over him just too far out of reach, probably on purpose, the bastard.
“What do you want?” Ethan murmured against Brandt’s skin.
“Anything,” Brandt said, and maybe it was purely desperation and lust talking but that wasn’t what made the rest of the words come out of his mouth. “You. I want you. I want anything you want.”
Ethan made this sound in his throat that was just… so fucking hot, and kept kissing him, like he wanted nothing else, like Brandt wanting him was everything. “Let me fuck you,” Ethan whispered against Brandt’s lips and Brandt’s cock practically jumped against his hip.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He pulled at the fabric covering Ethan’s shoulders. “Maybe I can stop being the only one who’s naked first.” He felt the snort of Ethan’s breath on his cheek.
Ethan sat back onto his heels. “Might be hot. If you’re the only one who’s naked.”
“I’m going to rip that fucking suit off you, Ethan, I swear to God.”
Lips tilting up into a smirk, Ethan started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. “Okay, then. Maybe another time. When you’re not so impatient.”
Like Ethan hadn’t been torturing him for the past… however long it had been. Brandt’s internal clock had gone utterly useless. It felt like hours but obviously it couldn’t have been. But now Ethan was shrugging out of his jacket and shirt and there was a lot more skin on display than there had been a moment ago so it was harder to hang onto his annoyance. He reached to hold onto Ethan’s waist, sliding his hands up, while Ethan unbuckled his belt.
Ethan moved off of him to stand, dislodging Brandt’s hands, so he could remove his pants and underwear. He walked over to his bag in the corner, giving Brandt plenty of opportunity to just… admire, though he would rather have his hands on Ethan again, quite frankly. He considered quietly taking hold of himself but he knew Ethan would probably smack him again; he almost did it anyway. Instead he settled for dragging his fingertips over the inside of his thigh, close, but not close enough.
Eventually Ethan came back onto the bed with lube and a condom; he was watching Brandt like he knew exactly what Brandt was trying to do. “Not sure I said that was okay, either,” he said, but he popped the cap of the lube anyway to pour some over his fingers. He scooted closer, kneeling, and propped Brandt up a bit on top of his thighs, before sliding his finger in.
“Fuck,” Brandt said, closing his eyes, because finally, finally, something.
“I thought you were hot before,” Ethan said, tone wondering, and Brandt thought probably he was blushing but couldn’t bring himself to care.
He squirmed a little, trying to fuck himself on Ethan’s finger, and Ethan seemed to take pity on him, adding a second and scissoring them. It was maybe a little too fast, stretching and burning, but Brandt didn’t care, he just wanted Ethan to get on with it.
Ethan removed his fingers and readjusted his position, Brandt sliding off his thighs. He bent over him, scraping his teeth lightly over Brandt’s clavicle. “Ready?”
Brandt opened his mouth with the intention of yelling something about shoving Ethan’s dick into him by himself if he didn’t get on with it but Ethan started laughing before he could.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “your face, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Fuck you, Ethan,” Brandt muttered, just as Ethan pushed into him. Ethan’s name stretched out into a bit of a groan and Brandt grasped Ethan’s hips, digging his fingers in.
“Wow,” Ethan said, half under his breath, holding still a moment before he started moving. He braced himself onto his hands, Brandt’s thighs falling open around him.
Brandt gripped Ethan’s forearm, feeling the tension and strength in his arm, and slid his other hand up over Ethan’s neck into his hair. He loved Ethan’s hair, how soft it was, how easy to grip, and couldn’t resist tugging on it a little. He used to fantasize about touching Ethan’s hair and it still felt somehow unreal that he could, that Ethan would let him.
That Ethan would like it. Because he obviously did, the way he was leaning into it, the way he kept letting Brandt pull. The rhythm he set was steady, long strokes, almost out and then in again, rocking Brandt forward, the mattress groaning with each thrust.
“God,” Brandt said, tipping his head back, still gripping Ethan’s arm, still holding a fistful of Ethan’s hair in his other hand. He wanted Ethan to reach between them and grab his dick but also he didn’t want Ethan to stop a single thing he was doing.
Then Ethan was saying, his breathing just a bit harsher than normal, “Can you come like this? Can you come just on my cock?”
No, Brandt wanted to say, because he had never come without some kind of touch or friction on his cock in his life, not since he was a horny teenager and it had felt like someone looking at his dick would make him go off, anyway. But simply the thought of it, coming without a hand on him, just from Ethan pushing up into him, just from seeing him and touching him and having him, was enough to have Brandt leaking against his stomach. Every thrust made him tremble with pleasure, like Ethan had an unerring sense to hit the right spot, every time.
“Yes,” he moaned, half merely an exclamation and half an answer to the question, and Ethan’s lips were curving.
“Show me then,” he said, leaning down until his lips brushed Brandt’s skin, and the rough, deep edges of his voice were almost enough to set Brandt off right there.
He moved his hands, running them over Ethan’s ribcage, palming his ass, feeling the flex of muscle. He couldn’t help the sounds he was making, tried to bite his lip to hold it in but then Ethan would thrust into him.
“Come on,” Ethan said, breathing it into Brandt’s skin. “Come for me, Will, come for me, please.”
It was just – Ethan saying his name, in that voice, and he never called him Will, and Brandt was shaking, breath coming in harsh gasps. He came all over himself, splashing onto his belly and his chest, while Ethan kept saying, “Will, yes, come on, Will, you’re so good,” low and intimate, and Brandt felt winded, punched out, like he’d just made that fucking jump with the magnets again, like he might have died but it was okay because Ethan had asked him to, only this time Ethan was catching him.
“Ethan,” he said, “Ethan, fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, hips snapping faster into Brandt. He was only barely holding himself up, their bodies pressed together. He kissed Brandt messily and then tucked his face against Brandt’s neck, breathing unevenly, pressing sloppy kisses to his skin.
Brandt didn’t know where to touch, wanting his hands everywhere, smoothing over Ethan’s spine and his hips and his ass, until he settled one on the back of Ethan’s neck and the other clenched into his hair again. “Please,” he murmured, “Ethan,” and felt when Ethan came, the spasming of his muscles, the way he gasped into the curve of Brandt’s neck.
They lay together for some indeterminate amount of time, Brandt’s internal clock still haywire. He kept touching Ethan’s skin, unable to stop. He groaned faintly when Ethan finally slid out of him, tying off the condom and throwing it somewhere, maybe in the trash, maybe on the floor, and honestly Brandt didn’t really care.
Wasn’t his room, anyway.
Ethan had rolled off him slightly to the side; his hair was sweaty and sticking to his face and Brandt thought he had never looked so good. Brandt couldn’t resist stroking over the side of Ethan’s face.
Then he said, still warm in the afterglow but his mind starting to tick back into gear, “What the fuck was all that, Ethan? Wasn’t even sure you actually liked me. Besides my dick and my ass, I mean.”
Ethan watched him for a few seconds before his expression firmed into something determined. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Brandt’s shoulder, saying, “I also like your shoulders,” then another to his biceps, “and your arms.” He sucked one nipple into his mouth, making Brandt gasp. “I like your chest.” He shifted lower, grinning wickedly, and licked up over Brandt’s stomach, through the trail of sticky, drying come. “I like your abs.”
Brandt’s hands slipped into Ethan’s hair, uncertain if he wanted to push him away or hold him where he was. “Oh, God.”
He lost his grip when Ethan settled between his legs, pushing Brandt’s knees apart to kiss the inside of his thigh. Brandt’s dick valiantly twitched. “Your thighs are pretty good, too.”
“Okay, I get it,” Brandt mumbled. Do you understand? Well, all right, yes, he thought he did, now.
Ethan crawled back up over him, brushing his hand through Brandt’s hair. He looked tentative, his skin still flushed and glowing. “Do you?”
“When you run this hot and cold, you can’t really blame a guy for not knowing where he stands.”
“I guess I wasn’t planning on…” Ethan shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t think I would care about you so much.”
“Hmm.” Brandt drew his lip between his teeth, considering that, a little embarrassed by how warm it was making him feel. “I grew on you. Like fungus. Wonderful. Can you add that to my file?”
“I’ll put it right next to smartass,” Ethan said, kissing him.
That was an extremely acceptable progression so Brandt just kept kissing Ethan for long, lazy minutes, the two of them still pressed together. It was a shame, honestly, that they couldn’t keep doing this for the foreseeable future. Forever, maybe. Brandt would like that.
Eventually Ethan settled back, propping himself on his elbow, watching Brandt, his fingers tracing slow, idle patterns over Brandt’s ribcage. “We should talk.”
“Now you think we should talk?”
“About the mission.”
Oh. “That’s not where I thought this was going.”
“That will be the last time you seduce a target on my watch, at least for a good long while. Not until I can be certain you’re ready.”
Brandt sat up, pulling away from Ethan’s hand. “You think so?”
Ethan still looked calm but his gaze was sharp. “I’m team leader. I get to make the call, and you’re not cleared.”
“Fuck you, Ethan. I ran that perfectly and we got everything we needed.”
“Can you honestly tell me you were fully in control? That you made the best possible decisions out there based on the situation? Nothing else?”
Brandt’s face felt hot. Ethan already knew the answer; Brandt had admitted it. “I was in control.”
“You were emotional.”
“And you weren’t?”
“I wasn’t running that op. You were.”
Brandt shifted, leaning his back against the wall, running his hand through his hair. He was angry, sure, that Ethan would have the audacity to pull this on him, but he was mostly angry that he knew Ethan had a point. He was better than this. He should have been better than this.
“Hey,” Ethan said, scooting closer, setting his hand on Brandt’s knee. “Will. I’m not punishing you.” His lips twitched when Brandt raised an eyebrow. “At least, I’m not punishing you right now. I only want you to be safe.”
“Right.” And it was fine, maybe. Brandt understood. He thought if it had been Jane or Benji, Ethan would be telling them the same thing. Brandt had fucked up a bit, actually. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment. It hadn’t been major, but he had made choices based on external factors, not the situation at hand.
Ethan was back to stroking patterns on Brandt’s skin, tracing up over his thigh. “You were right, too, though. I wasn’t at my best, either. I shouldn’t have watched you on the cameras. If anyone else had been in that room with Sullivan, I would have stayed at the party where I was meant to be.”
“If you can’t handle me working a mark, I think that’s a you problem,” Brandt said lightly, echoing Ethan’s words from earlier in the night.
Ethan’s laugh was bright and sharp. “Touché.”
Brandt caught Ethan’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “So… what does this mean? For us?”
“We’re going to do better,” Ethan said, bringing their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Brandt’s hand.
Better. Yeah. Brandt could do that.
He tugged his hand free and started to get up, thinking maybe he had overstayed his welcome. His ass was sore in more ways than one and he wished IMF had put them up in a place with a hot tub. That sounded so good right about now.
Before Brandt could make it farther than the edge of the bed, Ethan snagged hold of his wrist. Brandt blinked at him, surprised.
“Stay,” Ethan said. “Will. Please.”
Brandt sat more securely back onto the bed, watching Ethan uncertainly. “But Benji and Jane—”
“Now you’re worried about Benji and Jane? I’m sorry, Will, but the walls are not that thick and you were not that quiet.”
Brandt flushed hot.
Ethan pressed his hands into the mattress so he could bounce up and down once. The springs creaked. “Also, there’s that.”
“Yeah, I got it. Benji and Jane know we fucked.”
“Does it really bother you? Them knowing?” Ethan’s expression was carefully neutral but his lips were just parted and his eyes a little wide; Brandt could read him well enough to know he was worried about what the answer would be.
“Of course not,” Brandt said, noting the way Ethan exhaled. “I just wasn’t sure… Fucking’s a bit different than us spending the night together. You don’t care if they see us come out of your room in the morning?”
Ethan leaned in, sliding his hand into Brandt’s hair, bringing their faces close together. He kissed Brandt once, twice. “Do I need to tell you I like you again? Maybe I should write it down?”
“I don’t like you very much,” Brandt said, knowing he sounded petulant.
“Liar,” Ethan said, kissing his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the corner of his mouth. “Go to sleep.”
“Fine,” Brandt said on a heavy exhale, and if he was smiling faintly when he settled next to Ethan, Ethan’s arm holding him in close, well, no one knew but him.
End