Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was the way he laughed. That was what Ethan first noticed about Jack Harmon.

He did it so rarely. A snort here, a dry huff there. People amused him, but they very rarely made him laugh. Jack was a sarcastic prick, but he was good at what he did. Ethan’s first voice in his ear. It helped that they were similar ages. Like a packmate; though they were less the wolves themselves, more like thrown to them with how it felt sometimes. The IMF so very ready to just disavow all knowledge of them if the slightest thing went wrong.

The rest of the team said the two of them were like a pair of puppies; gnawing on each other’s proverbial ears, and trying to pin the other down in play. Neither of them taking anything seriously. Or maybe that was just Jim who said that? It didn’t matter. They were only half right anyway. Jack liked to play; Ethan took everything too seriously even as he constantly smiled to hide it. They counter-balanced each other out. Ethan reminded Jack that lives were at stake when he was hacking into a mainframe for a mission, so maybe don’t get distracted by the security cameras seeing if anyone was making out yeah? Be a pervert on your own time, Harmon.

Jack on the other hand, badgered Ethan into having a hobby, because the IMF can’t be you’re whole fucking life, E, you’ll never make it to forty. As if they didn’t all know they’d die young when they signed on. It was either that or live out a long life in prison, and none of them wanted to waste away behind the same four walls, for a variety of reasons. (Ethan couldn’t handle the thought of never feeling the sun on his face, never running free with the wind through his hair. The facsimile of freedom he got from being an IMF agent was enough to stop his soul withering into dust, only because what they did – the lives they saved – was ultimately more important than his own childish dreams of another kind of life).

He learned sleight of hand magic tricks, just so Jack didn’t look at him too deeply, because Ethan had already made the IMF his whole life. He had nothing else. The dairy farm he grew up on was gone – sold at auction because Margaret Hunt and her brother couldn’t afford to keep the place. Too heartbroken over the loss of her only son, to even try. Ethan had thought for one, long moment, about buying it just to keep it in the family in some kind of way, but the prospect of being haunted by a life he could never have every time he stepped foot on the diligently ploughed soil there made his chest clench so hard he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like it was his inheritance or anything. His mom and Uncle Donald had been notified of his death not even after an hour after he made The Choice that first time.

Had mourned their son years ago.

Ethan still remembered their faces. It was enough.

(most days).

The thing was though, that Jack always laughed properly when Ethan managed to steal something out from under someone and magic it away. Laughed so hard his dimples cut into the fat of his cheeks. Seeing those dimples made Ethan want to kiss Jack for the first time.

A dangerous thought that reminded Ethan of that thrum that always got under his skin after finding out the parameters of their next mission.

They shared a bed during missions, because safe houses never had enough rooms for everyone to get their own, and they were the two youngest so to the others it made sense. No one was crazy enough to split Jim and Claire up. (Even if Ethan had thought about it).

Ethan got to kiss Jack then.

Under the cover of darkness, tucked up in their own little room; the stars barely peeking through. Cheap, scratchy bedsheets pulled up tight around their shoulders; dipping their faces underneath so they could seek out each other’s lips. Jack made the first move, but Ethan was only a second or two behind. Hands shoved under waistbands. Wrists at awkward angles as they jerked each other off. Ethan panted against the bump of Jack’s chin; scruff rasping over his skin, lashes fluttering when Jack swiped his thumb over the spongy head of Ethan’s dick.

It wasn’t a competition of who could get the other off first, not really. But also, it sort of was. They didn’t want the rest of the team to hear, and neither of them wanted to be the one who couldn’t hold his load. That would be embarrassing. But also, if they kept it fun, then it didn’t have to mean anything. Just two friends seeking release. (It was easier that way). Ethan huffed out a laugh into the crook of Jack’s neck when Jack tried to cheat; slipping his hand down to cup and tug on Ethan’s balls, rubbing the pads of his fingers over that sensitive bit of skin behind them, stopping short of actually touching his asshole, because Jack was a fucking tease.

Ethan scraped the blunt edge of his teeth over the underside of Jack’s jaw, biting down on the soft flesh just to hear him gasp. Dragged his nail along the gape of his slit in retaliation. Precome wet his hand. Ethan used it to slick the glide of his palm.

“You’re not going to come, are you, Jack?” Ethan taunted; whisper quiet. Well aware the rest of the team were sleeping and his own orgasm was only just being held back. Jack grabbed the flesh of his ass and squeezed, yanking Ethan close, shoving his knee in between Ethan’s legs, grinding it against the base of Ethan’s dick as he palmed the head. Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“Fuck you, Hunt.” Jack bit at Ethan’s ear lobe; tugging and licking until it was shiny with spit, making him shiver though he was anything but cold.

“Don’t have the – ah – supplies.”  They never did. Safe houses weren’t really equipped for things like that. The IMF didn’t want their Agents getting distracted.

Jack rolled his eyes. Ethan pawed at his handsome face as the urge to come pulled tight in the cradle of his pelvis, and kissed him. Licked into the heat of his mouth; curling his tongue behind the wall of his teeth. Jack tasted like the vodka he’d snuck earlier and mint toothpaste. It was achingly familiar in the way Ethan should’ve been too young to be yearning for the comfort of. They groaned in unison as they both spilled hot and wet in their sleep pants.

“You lost,” Jack said, once they both caught their breath; a smug tilt to his mouth. Ethan thought about kissing him again, but he resisted.

“You cheated.”

Jack’s shoulders shook with laughter. Ethan kicked him in the shin. Two puppies in the same pile again.

He pulled his semen-covered hand free and reached blindly for the wad of tissues they’d chucked on the bedside unit in preparation.

“You’ll just have to last longer next time, E.” Jack wiped his hand clean and then jostled their shoulders together; a grin on his face, Ethan couldn’t help but return.

“What does that make us, five each?”

“Who’s keeping count, hmm?”

“Who indeed?”

They both knew it was both of them. Jack because it was a game to him, and Ethan because the idea of not being able to give his friend pleasure that had him coming unexpectedly made him feel nauseous.

After tucking their dicks away, Ethan curled himself around Jack’s back, nose brushing his nape as he allowed himself to relax and try and drift off into sleep. It was both easier and harder than sleeping alone.

Ethan never told the rest of the team what him and Jack did, mainly because he had a feeling that if Jim knew, he’d tell them to stop. Or more specifically, he’d tell Ethan to stop. And Ethan would have to stop, because Jim was like a father to him; the ability to go against his orders, harder than the rest of them. Jack wasn’t so cautious. Said the team already thought they were fucking anyway. Not because Ethan flirted with him – because Ethan flirted with everyone, it was easier to fool them into thinking they were getting close that way, when really they only ever got as close as Ethan let them – but because they all knew that out of everyone in the IMF, Ethan was the only one Jack would piss on if they were actually on fire.

He always said it in a jokey way, but everyone could see it was true.

“Why don’t they say anything then?” Ethan asked quietly the next morning; pouring them both shitty coffee into little polystyrene cups that did nothing to make the coffee taste better. He didn’t have to clarify what he was referring to, Jack knew. He was good at reading Ethan, even if Ethan didn’t want him to be.

Jack half-smirked at him and said, “because no one wants to piss off the guy who’s really good with a computer, E.” Paused. And then added, “and because no one wants to see you upset.”

He squeezed Ethan’s thigh under the table, and then Jim entered the room, talking about a new mission with his gaze on the folder open in his hands, and Ethan fiddled with the biro on the table in front of him; his focus shifting away from the man next to him, because that was always how it was.

Jack had an innocence about him, unsullied by all the shit they had to do, that drew Ethan like a moth to a flame, but in that same way, Ethan had known the first time they’d touched each other, and all the times after, they were never destined to do anything other than burn.

+

Jim didn’t confront Ethan about Jack. He did corner him about something else though.

“Sit down, Ethan.” Jim poured himself two fingers of scotch from a cut-glass decanter that no doubt cost more than Ethan had ever dreamed of owning when he was a kid. The rest of the party guests had already left; Ethan had been about to join them. Jim had curled his arm around Ethan’s shoulders and tugged him in the opposite direction of the front door instead.

“What’s this about, Jim?”

“Drink?”

Ethan shook his head. Ran his palm over the shorn fuzz of his hair and sunk down in the wingback arm chair with a sigh. Hooked his chin under the turtleneck of his pale-blue woollen sweater; peering up at Jim through his lashes. “You gonna tell me why I’m being kept back like a kid in detention?” he mumbled; using the barrier of his sweater to get away with pouting.

Jim levelled him with a flat look like he knew what he was doing anyway. “I want to ask you something.”

He sipped at his scotch rather than elaborate. Ethan huffed in frustration; leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His sweater slipping back in place. “Do I have to guess? Or are we gonna do a little game of charades, Jim? Come on, man. We’re not on a mission right now, so if you’d had your fun, I’d quite like to go back to my house and fucking sleep.”

He didn’t say home. Ethan never felt like he had one. It was hard to have a home when he was never anywhere long enough to put down roots.

“Alright.” Jim swirled the last few drops of scotch in his glass before knocking them back with a satisfied gasp. Set the tumbler on the side table and then pinned Ethan with his piercing gaze. “I was going to go for subtle, but seeing as you have plans, I’ll come right out and ask. Do you want to fuck my wife, Ethan?”

He flushed hot and then blanched white. “N-No,” he stuttered out the lie; swiping a palm over his clean-shaven cheek. “No, course not, Jim. What makes you say that? Is it the flirting? Because you know I flirt with everyone.”

“You never flirt with me.” Jim quirked a brow, accusing in its silence, and Ethan swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. He really should’ve said yes to that drink.

“Well, I—”

“It’s not the flirting.” Jim went easy on him, for once. Ethan’s mouth snapped shut. Still, he had to ask.

“What…What is it?”

“It’s that look you have when you look at Claire and think no one else can see you. Most would say it’s covetous.”

Ethan clenched his jaw; tried not to feel like he had spikes of a bear trap were pressing down on his jugular. “What would you say it is then, Jim?” He wasn’t a coward. He looked right in Jim’s eyes as he said it.

“I’d say it was more…yearning, than covetous.”

He looked away then. Mainly because Jim was right. He yearned for someone of his own to love. Not necessarily Claire, because by all accounts she was happy with Jim. Just…someone. But they were a small team, and Ethan didn’t exactly have a lot of time to meet people the usual kind of way. Not that he was saying Claire was a convenient vessel for his feelings, but there was a small part of Ethan that recognised that if he didn’t spend so much of his time with Claire (and the rest of the team), then he probably wouldn’t be so fascinated with her. The delicate curves of her face. The way a strand of her dirty-blonde hair always tickled her cheek no matter how many times she tucked it behind the shell of her ear. And the purr of her French accent.

She always made it so Ethan wanted to reach out and touch.

And he knew he shouldn’t.

Claire wasn’t Ethan’s. She was Jim’s. He’d known that from the beginning, but it hadn’t stopped the yearning.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered; unable to keep it a secret any longer. “I’ll go. If you want me on another team, I’ll understand.” Ethan stumbled to his feet; sniffing back the clog of tears in his throat. The thought of a new team making his blood run cold.

He was two steps from the door when Jim said, “Ethan.” He paused; shoulders curling up towards his ears, waiting for the click of a barrel of a gun.

“Yeah, Jim?”

“Come with me.”

Jim came up behind him and wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulders. Guided him further into the house, rather than towards the front door. Ethan’s pulse thundered in his ears. He had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“Jim?” He didn’t think the older man was going to take him out back and shoot him, but he struggled in that moment to think of what else Jim had planned.

He trooped up the stairs beside Jim; feet moving of their own accord. His eyes widened when they reached the main bedroom. Ethan swivelled to look at Jim in shock, but the older man didn’t say a word. Just nudged him inside.

“What the fuck is going on, Jim?” he hissed through his teeth.

“You’re freaking him out, darling.”

Ethan flinched at the sound of another voice. A feminine voice with a French accent. “Claire,” he said in a daze; finally spotting her on the bed, dressed in nothing but a pale-pink silk nightgown. He’d thought she’d left the party to go to bed. Which she obviously had. Just not to sleep like Ethan had assumed.

She smiled at him; the pout of her lips shiny with gloss. “It’s okay, Ethan.”

He looked between Claire and Jim; mind racing as he desperately tried to work out what was happening. Because it was looking less like Jim was going to shoot his brains out for wanting to fuck his wife, and more like Jim was actively encouraging him to get into bed with his wife.

Which was fucking insane, but—

“Jim.” Ethan turned and looked at his Team Leader, his father figure, his mentor, his friend, and implored him to clarify the whole bizarre situation. “I need you to make it perfectly clear what is happening right now.”

Jim’s mouth curled in a half smile and he leaned in close; breaths tickling Ethan’s ear. Ethan failed to suppress a shiver. He wasn’t even attracted to Jim; it was just having him so close. He stayed like that for a long, long moment. Ethan wet his lips; fingers twitching by his side. “You’re going to fuck my wife, Ethan. That’s what is happening right now.”

Ethan swallowed thickly; shuddering out a trembling breath. “W-Why?”

Warm fingers curled around his neck; thumb stroking up and down the jut of his throat. “Because you’re like a son to me, Ethan, and we both want you to be happy.”

Jesus. He didn’t know how to process that. Any of it.

“Are you sure?” It seemed like the easiest question to ask.

Jim moved his hand from Ethan’s neck and turned him in the direction of the bed. “Quit stalling, Ethan.” He smacked Ethan on the ass, making him gasp out a breathless yelp. Ethan stopped at the end of the bed, silently asking Claire if she wanted this. Claire slowly dragged the hem of her nightgown up her bare thigh, stopping just before Ethan could get a peek of her flushed sex. Yes, she mouthed; eyes sparkling with a dare.

He exhaled deeply. Well, alright then.

Ethan yanked open his jeans; shoving them down his hips as he toed off his boots. Pulled his sweater off over his head and chucked it on the floor. He paused; thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxer briefs. “You just watching, Jim? Or are you participating too?”

He found in that moment; he didn’t care either way. Jim could watch from the chair off to the side or lay down right next to them and run his hands all over Ethan, it didn’t matter. Ethan’s dick was still plumping up between his thighs. He wasn’t going to think about why he might feel like that about the man he so looked up to though.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on the beautiful woman on the bed rather than me?”

Ethan shrugged; throwing Jim a boyish grin. Climbed on the bed; skating his fingertips up the length of Claire’s silky smooth leg from ankle to knee. Claire moved; her legs falling open around him. Ethan stretched out over her and dipped his head to kiss her. She moaned into the kiss; clutching at his shoulders. Her manicured nails dug into his skin; scratching over his nape to tug at the short strands of hair at the base of his skull.

She tasted like red wine and the chocolate mousse they’d had for dessert.

He skimmed his hand higher up her thigh until her felt wiry curls brush his fingertips. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he huffed out a laugh, almost disbelieving. They’d hardly kissed. Ethan spread Claire’s folds, rubbing her wetness up from her entrance to her clit.

“Mmhmm. I had to keep myself occupied while Jim spoke to you.” She toyed with his hair, and Ethan realised her fingers would be stained with her own juices, and he was going to smell like her even after they were done.

“Aw, shit.” Ethan groaned, thunking his head against Claire’s delicate collar bone. His whole body jostled when she laughed. It was a little cruel sounding, but made him hot all the same.

Jim chuckled lowly, and Ethan’s dick twitched in the pouch of his underwear at the reminder that they weren’t alone. Fuck, he was a mess. “Can’t handle a woman who knows how to masturbate, Ethan?”

Ethan huffed; flipping Jim off behind his back. The older man just laughed louder. “Condom?”

A foil packet landed with a soft thump on the pillow. Ethan shimmied out of his boxer briefs, and grabbed the condom. Tore it open and sheathed his dick.

“You sure I don’t need to like, eat you out, or anything?” Ethan asked; head of his dick nudging the entrance of her pussy but not yet pushing inside. The idea of not doing a good enough job made the back of his neck heat up in shame. So did the fact that he just remembered he was still wearing his socks. He didn’t dare move off the bed though. They might not invite him back on it.

“I appreciate the offer, Ethan,” Claire cupped his face; thumb digging into the corner of his mouth. He suckled at the tip for a brief second. “But I just really need your cock inside me.”

Ethan peered over his shoulder. Jim had loosened his tie; his braces hung in loose hoops by his hips. He looked unaffected, but his gaze burned into Ethan’s skin so he knew it was just a façade. That just made his dick wet more than anything. “She say that to you too, Jim?”

“Oh no. She’s much less polite with me.” Jim winked, and Ethan felt arousal pulse in his gut.

He jerked out a nod; cheeks flaming pink. Jim always made him feel wrong-footed in that kind of way. “Right.” He gripped his cock by the base, and taking a deep breath he pushed his way past the rim of Claire’s cunt, in in in until he was balls deep. “Jesus Christ.”

His neck strained as he fumbled to grab hold of the bedsheets with one hand; Claire’s hip with the other. She was hot and tight around him, and fuck, if she didn’t stop clenching down like that, rhythmic pulses tighter than any fist, then this was going to be over way too fast.

“Yeah, she always feels like that.”

Ethan groaned. “Fucking hell, Jim.”

Claire pulled him down so she kiss him again, and Ethan started rolling his hips, because if he tried to stay still any longer, he’d combust.

“Yes, just like that, Ethan, mmm,” Claire hummed in pleasure; pushing up to meet his thrusts. “Such a good puppy, aren’t you?”

Ethan nipped at the hinge of her jaw. “Not a puppy,” he whined. She just laughed all throaty and sexy, because he’d just proven her point. “Shut up.” He fucked into her harder; her laugh cutting off into a gasp. That was better.

He focused on the in and out drag of his dick inside the swollen channel of her cunt; needing to hear more of those ah ah ah’s spill from her soft lips. Verbal proof he was doing a good job. Ethan was so lost in the way she squeezed his dick; he jerked in shock at the large, masculine hands on his waist.

“Fuck,” his hips stuttered; sweaty palm sliding over the rucked up bedsheets almost causing him to tip forward and face plant right into Claire’s tits. Not a bad place to end up, but also not what he’d been aiming for. “Jim.”

The older man palmed Ethan’s hips; rubbing, massaging, kneading. It felt like a brand, burning into his skin.

“Keep going.”

Jim’s heat seeped into him, where he knelt on the bed behind him. He guided Ethan’s hips so he fucked into Claire slower, but deeper. Her moans turned louder; head thrown back in ecstasy, silky tresses spilling over the pillow.

“Just like that.” Jim murmured; fingers digging into Ethan’s skin hard enough to bruise. “That’s it. Fuck my wife like she deserves, Hunt.”

Ethan whimpered; burying his face in the crook of Claire’s neck. His mind felt fuzzy; caught between wanting to make Claire come, and wanting to make Jim proud. “Please,” he begged. “Please, Claire. Please, Jim.”

He was flushed down to the dimples of his spine, and Jim didn’t let him hide from it; rubbing the pads right in those divots like he wanted Ethan red and desperate for them. Jim’s grip became even tighter, and Ethan could feel his balls pull tight; the urge to come almost overwhelming. He snuck his hand in between their sweat-slick bellies; rubbing at the quivering nub of Claire’s clit, kissing her fiercely because she was so fucking wet, split open around him, swollen and desperately sucking him in deeper like she couldn’t get enough.

It only took three, four strums of his fingers for Claire to break apart around him.

“Keep fucking her, Ethan.” He whimpered at Jim’s order, but carried on snapping his hips. Driving his cock deeper into the spasming clutch of Claire’s pussy. “That’s it. Look at her, Ethan. Dick drunk and loving it.”

Ethan risked a glance at Claire’s face, and immediately regretted it. She was more gorgeous than normal; hair a mess, plump lips parted, eyes hooded and glassy with pleasure. “Please, Jim.” He tucked his face in her neck again; grunting from the effort of not coming. “Please can I come?”

Jim let go of his hips; dragging his palms down to cup and squeeze the generous flesh of Ethan’s ass. He spread Ethan’s ass cheeks, exposing the winking furl of his hole. Ethan flushed down to his toes at being so exposed. At Jim seeing a part of him only one person had ever properly touched before.

“You can come, Ethan. You can come.”

It felt like his orgasm was ripped from the very depths of his balls at the permission granted. He pumped his hips once, twice more before he spilled his release into the condom with a deep, guttural groan.

Ethan collapsed on top of Claire’s fucked-soft body; nuzzling his face into the waves of her hair. Jim released his ass cheeks with a fond pat. Pet the length of his spine. “Good boy,” he said. Ethan could only chuff in response, too tired to pretend to be anything other than proud and satisfied.

Claire combed her fingers through his hair while Jim continued to run his hand up and down the notches of his vertebrae. In that moment he really was their pet, and he was too fucked out to move.

It felt hazy like a wisp of a dream.

Jim’s handprints still bruised his skin a week later when Ethan’s whole team was killed on a mission gone wrong.

It was the first of many times Ethan was haunted by a ghost that refused to leave.

+

Max.

Ethan liked her from the first moment he saw her (even if he probably shouldn’t have considering everything). Beautiful and imperious, like an Emperor of ancient time’s wife who was actually the one pulling the strings the whole time.

She cut a fine figure in her tailored navy-blue pencil skirt suit, with not a strand of her auburn bob out of place. Max was no-nonsense and despite not giving anything away regarding who she really was, Ethan felt like she was more honest than Kittridge and the rest of the IMF right then.

And she must have liked him too. Just a little bit. She hadn’t shot him and she trusted him enough to escape Kittridge’s men based on his word.

Endeared by his charming smile, maybe. He was surprised it had been genuine, if slightly brittle. Ethan hadn’t thought he’d be able to feel anything other than anger and betrayal after the shitshow that was Prague. Claire was alive, yes, but still. He felt numb to anything else.

“Before we actually go ahead with this, dear boy…” Max reached across the leather seats to rub Ethan’s earlobe between her fingers. Ethan’s throat clicked  as he swallowed. It was the second time she’d touched him like that, and he found he didn’t mind it. Especially because everything inside just hurt right now.

“Yes? Was there something else?” The sleek black car rolled to a stop outside a big townhouse. “Am I going to have to wear the shroud again? Because it doesn’t exactly go with my suit.” He grinned cheekily; playing with his royal-blue tie.

“No,” Max laughed. “We can keep your pretty face uncovered this time. Come on. I’d like to discuss something with you…in private.” She wet her lips. Ethan followed the pink of her tongue. Heat smouldered in his belly like embers.

He flicked his gaze to the front of the car, where Max’s bodyguards were taking up space. “Private private?”

Max smirked and stepped out of the car. Ethan slid across the leather and followed her out, up the steps into the town house. He didn’t pay attention to the details, distracted by the way her pencil skirt pulled tight over the shapely curve of her buttocks. Ethan wouldn’t usually allow himself to act like this with someone he didn’t really know, but there were less people that he did know in the world now, and the mission might have changed – a different kind of mole hunt – but a mission was still a mission.

And Ethan would do anything to accomplish his objective.

“What did you want to discuss?” Ethan asked once they were inside the living room. Max perched on the arm of the velvet couch; long legs stretched out in front of her. Tanned stockings leading down to dark court shoes with a thick heel. He trailed his gaze back upwards to find Max arching an imperious brow at him; amusement dancing in her blue eyes.

“How good you would look on your knees, dear boy.”

Ethan’s knees hit the carpet with a solid thump. She moved her legs; bending and spreading them outwards. Her skirt pulled upwards to her thighs. Ethan crawled on his hands and knees towards Max. She carded her fingers through his hair; tugging on the shell of his ear.

“Well? Do you need a written invitation or are you going to put that mouth of yours to good use?”

Ethan huffed out a laugh. “I have been told I’m good with my mouth.”

He nosed at the bend of her knee; inching upwards until the fine net of her stocking gave way to warm skin. Ethan followed the teasing musk of her arousal ; smudging faint kisses up the line of her inner thigh until he reached the edge of her underwear. He mouthed over the crotch of her panties; hot breath mixing with her own wetness to dampen the fabric.

Ethan hooked his finger under the fabric and tugged it to the side. He took a moment to just breathe her in—the scent of sweat and pussy filling his nostrils. It was a better smell than the copper tang of blood.

Parting her folds with the crooked bridge of his nose, Ethan swiped his tongue over where she was hot and musky. Got lost in the taste of her. Pushed his tongue into the snug hole of her cunt; scooping up ribbons of honey-thick slick and swallowing them down greedily.

Max cupped the back of his skull; pressing his face deeper into her cunt. Her legs tightened around his head, and he could feel how close she was. Ethan sucked on her clit, until it pulsed on his tongue. Rolling it between his teeth, making her gasp.

“That’s it, dear boy. Show me how good you can be.”

Ethan feasted on her sex until Max’s thighs squeezed his head; body pulled tight before she came with a breathy moan. Slick gushed from her cunt to soak his mouth and throat; no doubt seeping into the folds of his pale-blue shirt collar.

He lazily licked at her swollen pussy until she pushed his face out from under her skirt. Knocked back on his heels; Ethan wiped his face with the back of jacket sleeve, grinning up at her. “Told you I’m good with my mouth.”

Max hummed; shaking her head with what Ethan thought was fondness. Her nose crinkled where she suppressed a smile, and Ethan sat there panting, trying to catch his breath. Her taste coated his tongue and it tasted better than the bitter pill he'd had to swallow of knowing he’d been betrayed by the IMF. By Jim.

She nudged his knees apart and pressed the sole of her court shoe down on the bulge of his trapped erection. Ethan whimpered; curling over her leg.

“M-Max.”

“I’m a generous woman, dear boy. You can seek your release too.”

She didn’t say how, but Ethan got the picture. He cupped the heel of her foot with a trembling hand and sniffed. Rocked his hips in small, shallow circles; grinding his aching dick against the press of her shoe. Max refused to let him hide; tipping his face up towards her, two fingers under his chin. Ethan bit his lip; eyes wide and pleading.

“That the best you can do?”

He humped her foot faster; hips becoming sloppy, barely rubbing the hard line of his cock against her foot. It didn’t matter. He still fell over the edge, unable to look away from where Max’s gaze kept him pinned like a butterfly. Perhaps he was as delicate as one as well. Ethan didn’t know.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath; spasming in place on the floor, as he creamed his underwear like he was a teenager who didn’t know better.

Max lightly patted his cheek before removing her foot from the grip of his thighs. He looked down; cheeks staining red at the wet patch that spilled over his groin.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dear boy,” Max said; righting her skirt. “I’ll see you again when you have what I’m paying for.”

Ethan could only jerk out a tired nod.

The brief reprieve from his inner anguish was unfortunately, now over.

+

“Sit your ass down, man, you’re making me dizzy.”  Ethan stopped his pacing up and down to weakly glare at Luther who was stretched out on the safe house bed in a dark-green t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Feet bare, crossed at the ankle. Luther chuckled and didn’t even bother to look repentant. “I’m too fucking tired to be watching your ass make a hole in the carpet.”

“Don’t watch then.”

Ethan started pacing again; his own sweatpants brushing the tops of his feet with each step. There was a vibration under his skin—too much adrenaline. Too much disbelief at how it had all gone down making his heart pump double time, leaving him keyed up and too young to be this jaded.

Not to mention how hurt he was.

He’d viewed Jim as a father figure. All Jim had seen him as in the end was a patsy. A convenient mole to blame everything on.

“What the hell did I just say?” Luther leaned over and snagged Ethan by the t-shirt; yanking hard so he fell onto the bed.

“Dick.”

Ethan pushed himself from the tangle of their legs, only to take one look into Luther’s dark eyes and flump back down onto the bed. Dragged himself up and over so he was stretched out alongside Luther rather than on top of him.

Luther wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulders and Ethan breathed in his comforting scent. His heartbeat was a steady thump under Ethan’s ear, and Ethan released a tight breath. He didn’t fully relax, but it was a little easier having Luther here with him.

It’s how he’d felt this whole shitshow of a mission.

He’d brought Luther in on a hope and a prayer, and he still couldn’t believe it had worked. That Luther had had his back when he really didn’t have to. That he’d stayed afterward. Ethan’s fingers clutched at the worn-soft fabric of Luther’s t-shirt and sniffed.

Ethan shot up suddenly.

“Where’s the fire?” Luther frowned at him in concern.

Ethan reached up and thumbed it away. “You’ll get wrinkles like that.” Luther rolled his eyes, flicking Ethan on the tip of the nose. Ethan grinned and surged forward; pressed a quick kiss to Luther’s mouth. Their lips slid together for only a moment before Ethan pulled back.

“It means a lot you stuck by me, Luther.”

“We’re a team, Ethan.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean much to most people.” He wiggled his way down the bed until his face was in line with Luther’s hips. “I want to thank you, Luther.”

Ethan palmed at Luther’s belly, pushing his t-shirt up. His skin was warm, smooth. The trail of black hair under his navel tickled Ethan’s palm.

“What are you doing?” Luther sounded curious, confused almost, rather than angry or disgusted.

“I told you,” Ethan tugged Luther’s sweatpants down, snapping the waistband under the pouch of his balls. Luther wasn’t hard, but that didn’t deter him. He was good with his mouth after all. “I want to thank you.”

He nuzzled at Luther’s flaccid cock then; dragging his lips over the dark, velvety skin. He was uncut, and a good five inches even soft. Even though he knew it wouldn’t happen, Ethan’s hole clenched at the thought of Luther’s dick inside him. Having someone at his back wouldn’t feel the same now, not after Jim, but Ethan trusted Luther. And he knew, no matter what, that wouldn’t change.

Ethan rubbed his cheeks over his groin; the thatch of curls at the base of his cock felt different than the fuzz of his balls, but Ethan found he liked both. Luther hadn’t even begun to plump up to hardness, so Ethan wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock and gently suckled. Licked at the gape of his slit, using his tongue to play with the folds of his foreskin.

“Hey,” Luther said softly; cupping Ethan’s nape. He didn’t yank him off, just looked down at him over the length of his torso. Ethan pulled off his soft cock; a string of saliva linking them for a moment before it broke, falling to cling to Ethan’s chin.

“What, you don’t like your cock getting sucked, Stickell?” He tried to keep the tone light, playful. Tried not to let it show how broken he really was.

Luther tsked gently, and pulled Ethan upwards; tucking his dick back in his sweatpants while he did it. Moulded Ethan to his side and held him tight enough his bones started to creak. The pressure was good though. Felt like he might actually be able to breathe properly some day soon.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” Ethan tucked his face in the crook of Luther’s armpit and nodded into the barrel of his chest. “What we have – our friendship, our relationship – it’s not one where you have to ‘pay’ for with your body. This isn’t transactional. Your body – nice as it is – isn’t a currency I accept. I watch your back, you watch mine. We’re brothers until the end. Okay?”

Ethan clenched his jaw, trying to bite back tears. He didn’t deserve Luther Stickell, but he wasn’t going to let him go. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. He’d read it wrong. Shame painted his cheeks. He peered up at Luther, but there was no judgement in his gaze. Only kindness and sincerity. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he said.

“It wasn’t all a thank you,” he admitted. “You’re a handsome man, Luther.”

“Oh, I know.”

Ethan smiled to himself hearing Luther chuckle. The smile lasted for a few moments, and then it felt like his cheeks were being pulled too tight. The tears he’d tried to keep at bay spilled from his lashes.

“They’re all dead, Luther.” Jack, Claire, Sarah, Hannah, even Krieger the grumpy bastard. And Jim. Out of all of them, that one, despite everything, cut the deepest. It was just him and Luther left.

“I know.”

He hiccupped out a wet sob; pawing at Luther’s broad chest, trying to burrow deeper into his side.

“They’re all dead,” he repeated. His voice was thick with tears; he couldn’t stop them now.

“I know.”

“Why did he do it? Why did he betray me Luther? Why did he throw me away like that? Why?”

Luther rubbed his hand up and down Ethan’s arm and bussed a kiss against the crown of his head. “I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded sorry he couldn’t provide answers for him.

Ethan didn’t know either, and he’d never know. Not truly. Jim wasn’t around to tell him. Was any of it true? Had Ethan just been a mark since the very beginning—a convenient patsy to point the IMF in the direction of and say, look, here’s your mole? Had Jim actually seen him as a son? If he had, that made the betrayal even worse. The bruises were still there. He thinks they will be long after they’d faded too.

Everything was different now, but he had Luther by his side, and that was enough.

He wept into the cotton of Luther’s t-shirt until his eyes were swollen and gritty, and his rib cage ached from every heaving breath he took. The hollow feeling in his chest dug in like thorns on a rose, and it was only Luther’s arm around him, holding him close the whole night that stopped him breaking apart completely.

+

“Who wants to be decent?” Nyah said; spread out on Ethan’s lap in the driver’s seat of her silver Audi TT he'd commandeered, her lips brushing his own soft as a butterfly. Who indeed?

Ethan had gotten her on board, he’d succeeded at that part of the mission; she was going to help go after Ambrose. So he felt justified in spending an hour or two getting further acquainted with Nyah Nordoff-Hall. Though he didn’t need to get her naked to know she was a vixen in a slip of a dress; designed to distract and leave men robbed of their brain power (and probably a valuable item or two), and feel like they’d gotten the better end of the deal. Thankfully Ethan wasn’t overly sentimental about anything he was wearing, and Nyah seemed more interested in what he had on under his clothes, rather than the watch on his wrist.

She stayed straddling his lap the whole drive back to his hotel room, because of course she did. Just because she’d agreed to help – not that Ethan had given her much wiggle room not to but still – didn’t mean she was going to make it easy on him. No, Ethan was very aware that Nyah was doing her best to make everything about this as hard as she possibly could.

And she was succeeding.

The wind whipped around his face sharp and biting; black sunglasses shielding his eyes from the blazing sun and Nyah’s dark hair that repeatedly brushed his cheeks. Ethan changed gear, then pushed his own chin-length hair back from his face, before resting his hand on Nyah’s waist. She shifted on Ethan’s lap, and he clenched his jaw as she ground down over his trapped erection.

“Really?” he chided; focusing on the road rather than her enticing smirk.

“Don’t tell me you can’t multi-task, Agent Hunt?”

“I can multi-task just fine,” he said through gritted teeth; taking a bend a little too fast, the hotel barely a minute away. “I just don’t fancy crashing the car because you’re too horny to sit still.” He gave her hip a brief squeeze in warning.

Nyah pouted, but stopped wiggling in his lap; her lithe arms draped over his shoulders. “Spoil sport.”

Ethan rolled his eyes before swerving to a stop in front of the hotel. Opening the car door, he lifted Nyah off his lap and jumped out behind her. Slamming the door shut, Ethan crowded against her back, nosing at her nape. His fingers toyed with the black lace of her dress pulled tight over the flat of her belly.

“You going to be this much trouble the whole time?”

Nyah tilted her head back against his shoulder, peering up at him through sooty lashes. “Oh you can count on it.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh, and playfully shoved her in the direction of his hotel room. She went willingly; swaying her hips from side to side and winking at him over her shoulder. Ethan bundled them into his room, and scooping her up, gently chucked Nyah onto the bed.

“Eager are we?” She kicked offer her heels; both falling to the carpet with a soft thump. “Been a while, hmm?”

He didn’t answer as he tossed his sunglasses on the side. Mainly because she was right.

Ethan hadn’t fucked anyone since Claire. That had been four years ago. He wasn’t going to think about what happened back then though. This wasn’t anything like that. It was just sex. Part of the mission really. And Luther was always saying he was too high-strung, taking everything so seriously.

They couldn’t all be cool as a cucumber with a fancy hat collection now could they?

He climbed on the bed; prowling up the length of Nyah’s body, kissing her fiercely. “Roll over,” he purred; rasping his tongue up the length of her neck. She tasted of sweat and the floral tease of her perfume.

“You’re on top of me.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

Nyah chuffed, but managed to wiggle over onto her belly within the cage of his arms. Ethan brushed her silky hair to the side. Tugged the zipper of her dress down the length of her spine oh…so…slowly. Chased the parting teeth with featherlight kisses until he reached the small of her back.

His nostrils flared at the flawless expanse of her back. Miles of smooth, light-brown skin. His jaw ached to mark her, but he held back. This wasn’t like that.

“You can roll back over now.”

Ethan climbed off the bed and stripped off his shirt, boots, jeans, socks and underwear. His cock bobbed in between his legs; precum already beading at the tip. His body was a machine; primed to respond to enticing stimuli, just like it had been trained to do. And Nyah was very enticing indeed.

He languidly stroked his dick to take the edge off, before reaching over and divesting Nyah of her black, lace dress. He exhaled heavily, because she was gorgeous. Dusky nipples pebbled to soft points. The delicate flare of her waist. Legs that he couldn’t wait to spread open.

“You going to just stare, or do they teach you how to fuck at the spy school of yours?”

Ethan growled in frustration; jumping on the bed, landing in a crouch. He practically tore her slip of a thong from her hips; chucking the scrap of fabric onto the floor. “That mouth on you, I swear.”

Nyah grabbed him between his legs; cupping his balls and squeezing. Ethan jerked in her hold, failing to swallow down a moan.

“Fuck!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

He batted her hand away and kissed her again; settling in between her thighs. “You’re going to make me regret getting you involved, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “But that’s nothing to do with the sex. Do you mind if I’m on top?” Nyah rolled them before he could answer. Ethan grunted as he ended up flat on his back with her sat on his lap again. Only this time there was no barrier of their clothing in the way. Nyah spread her hands over his chest; digging her nails into his pecs.

Ethan bared his teeth with a hiss; bucking up against the plump folds over her cunt. She was waxed smooth and smearing her arousal all over his dick. She looked down at him like she was a goddess, and he a mere acolyte . He palmed her hip; thumb rubbing back and forth over the jut of her hip.

“Well, you’re on top. What are you going to do now you’re there?”

Nyah stretched over to the bedside drawers; rummaging for a condom. Ethan entertained himself while she looked; drawing the dusky pout of her nipple into his mouth. She moaned; thighs squeezing around him like she couldn’t help it. He suckled at her tit like a babe seeking milk; cupping her other breast in the palm of his hand and massaging.

“You keep doing that – ah, fuck! – and you won’t end up fucking me, Ethan Hunt.” He pulled off her nipple with a wet slurp; spluttering out a laugh as the condom packet hit him in the face.

“Wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

He grabbed the condom and quickly sheathed his cock; knuckles bumping against her pussy as she gave him very little room to work with. Her slick coated the backs of his fingers. Ethan licked it clean, winking up at Nyah when she cursed under her breath.

Two could play at this game.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, Agent Hunt, hmm?” Nyah lifted herself up, grabbed the base of his dick, and then sunk down until he was buried to the hilt inside her. Ethan grabbed her by the ankles and shook his hair out of his eyes.

He jerked his chin in challenge, and Nyah rolled her hips. She clenched down around him with every thrust downwards, and Ethan felt like he could only hold on for the ride. Nyah bounced on his dick like she was getting paid for it, and it took everything he had not to blow his load within minutes.

“Alright?” she asked; laughter clouding her voice. “Too much woman for you to handle?”

Ethan glared at her weakly. “Okay, we’re going to do it my way now.”

Before she could protest, Ethan lifted her off him, and pushed her onto her hands and knees. Shoved his dick back inside her from behind; balls slapping against the swell of her ass. Her arms gave out from under her; face falling into the pillows.

“Jesus fuck—!”

Ethan grinned smugly and fucked her hard and rough; hips snapping as his dick rubbed over her g-spot. “Touch yourself. Rub that needy clit of yours, Nyah. Wanna feel you come.”

She flailed her arm around; whole body jolting as he dragged his cock in and out of her tight pussy. The bed knocked against the wall, but her moans were louder. They filled his ears and she sounded nothing like Claire who purred more like a cat than screamed like a banshee. It was just what he needed right then. This was hot, sweaty, animalistic sex. Pure and simple.

After a few failed attempts at trying to get her hand in between her legs; Ethan grabbed Nyah’s wrist and held her fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves poking through her swollen folds. “That’s it,” he panted; guiding Nyah’s hand in small, firm circles over her clit again and again. “Just like that.”

“E-Ethan,” She whined; rubbing her face all over the pillows. Sweat coated her skin; she glistened like a sunrise dancing on the ocean. Ethan blanketed her back. His teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder.

He pinched her clit between their entangled fingers, and she tightened around him. Nyah hiccupped out a sob, and it was like she tripped over into her orgasm—pussy spasming around him again and again as she fucked herself back on his cock. He chased his own release, and then he groaned against her nape, filling the condom with his spend.

They collapsed onto the bed in a pile of sweaty limbs. Her hair tickled the back of his neck.

“There was nothing decent about that, Ethan Hunt,” she murmured, once they’d gotten their breath back.

Ethan chuckled and rolled off her. Falling onto his back, bending his arm behind his head. They didn’t cuddle. This wasn’t that kind of thing. Nyah uncurled off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom; the shower turned on a moment later. Ethan laid there staring up at the ceiling as the sweat dried on his skin, and acknowledged the fact that while his balls were now empty, the hollow ache in his chest felt even more so.

+

His boots kicked against Ambrose’s chest, knocking him down onto the sand. Ethan turned with the spin of his body falling to the ground with a grunt. The breath was knocked out of him for a moment, but it was a moment too long.

Ambrose pounced on top of him; pressing him deeper into the sand. He hissed as fine grains scraped against his cut cheek. Ethan tried to buck Ambrose off him, but the other man had him pinned; grip bruising on his wrists and nape.

Ethan refused to stay still though. There had to be a way out, and he would find it. He needed to get the antidote to Luther, to Nyah. He had to save her. He wasn’t going to let Ambrose win. Didn’t matter if he’d failed at there being no feelings; he just wasn’t that kind of machine it seemed. But he couldn’t let her die.

It wasn’t a sacrifice he was willing to accept.

“I bet you like a man on top of you like this don’t you, Hunt. Pinning you down. Having their way with you.” Ambrose licked over the shell of his ear, his cheek. Ethan stopped himself from shivering in reaction.

“Fuck you,” he spat out; trying to knock his elbow into Ambrose’s flank and shove him off him.

“Now there’s a thought.” Ambrose barked out a cruel-sounding laugh. “Try explaining sand in your arse crack to your little girlfriend, Hunt, and see if she looks at you like a hero then.”

He ground his dick down against the cleft of Ethan’s ass. The bastard was hard. Obviously enjoying having Ethan struggling underneath him. Ethan very much wanted to smash his teeth in. He didn’t have the time though. Nyah was on a countdown, and Ethan couldn’t afford to get distracted. Ambrose speared his fingers through Ethan’s hair and tugged; yanking his head backwards until his neck twinged. He bit down on the line of his throat until skin broke. Ethan cursed feeling blood splash against his collar bone.

He stopped wriggling underneath Ambrose.

A new tactic was needed.

Ethan laid perfectly still. Let Ambrose get lost in grinding his erection against his ass. He’d slip up eventually.

It didn’t take long.

Ambrose let go of Ethan’s wrist to try and shove his t-shirt up and expose the heated, bruising skin of his rib cage. As soon as he let go, Ethan pulled his arm free and punched Ambrose in the side of the head. Ambrose fell off him with a pained shout. Ethan kicked him in the shoulder, jumping to his feet. Ambrose staggered upwards; swaying where he stood. Ethan punched him in the face once, twice. Followed it with a southpaw to the gut.

Anger at this whole fucking shitshow of a situation burned in his veins, and Ethan just wanted this over.

Never wanted to see Ambrose’s smug face again.

Ethan did a spinning kick in the air, catching Ambrose on the chin with his boot. Ambrose fell backwards, knocking his head on a rock buried in the sand. He jumped on top of him prepared to hit him again, but he didn’t move.

The waves of the ocean crashed against the shore.

The blades of a helicopter whirred loudly only a few feet away, and Ethan saw Nyah laying listlessly in the back seat. He stumbled over to his discarded leather coat and fished the vials from his inner pocket. Luther jumped out of the helicopter and ran towards him.

Blood and sand clung to Ethan’s skin. His bones ached.

Luther stopped five foot away; gaze wide and terrified and aimed behind Ethan’s back.

Ethan looked at his best friend and knew Ambrose wasn’t dead.

“You should’ve killed me!” Ambrose cackled dementedly. Ethan didn’t need to look to know he had a gun pointed at his back.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Then he threw the antidote vials at Luther, kicking up the gun hidden under the sand at the same time. He rolled into the movement, narrowly avoiding the shots fired by Ambrose; turning to shoot back at him.

Blood splattered across Ambrose’s chest. Ethan didn’t miss.

He pulled the trigger again. And again.

Bullets tearing into Ambrose’s back as he rolled over and over, falling back against the sand again. Ethan stared at him; arm outstretched like he couldn’t uncurl his fingers from the tight grip of his gun. Watched as the light faded from Ambrose’s gaze.

The helicopter blades cutting through the air faded to the background; blood pounding in his ears. Ethan laid there sprawled on the ground, another name to add to his body count.

A tear trickled from the corner of his eye as he realised that not even that, was enough to make his erection he’d been trying to ignore he had, wilt.

He could only hope if anyone asked, they’d believe him when he said it was just the adrenaline.

+

He saw Julia’s silhouette first. Backlit by the sun on the snowy slopes of the mountains of Lake Wanaka; puffy jacket somehow not making her look like the Michelin Man, boots strapped into her board. Goggles covered her eyes, with a beanie pulled down low; dark hair tucked under the collar of her hood. He hadn’t been able to see her face, most of it in shadow, but he’d watched her from the bottom of a run as she’d jumped from the helicopter and rode the slope like a natural, coming to a stop twenty feet away, throwing her head back and laughing in pure delight at having not fallen on her ass.

She’d gone by the time Ethan had blinked and realised she wasn’t a mirage; lost in the bodies of the other boarders and skiers.

Until a couple of hours later, when she crashed into his world. Literally.

They’d collided on the snow; Ethan with it enough to pull her towards him and roll them so he landed on his back instead of her. He grunted at the sudden impact and extra weight on top; spitting out snow, most of it melting on his lips.

“I am so sorry,” she said; pushing herself up to stare down at him with worry stark on her face. She ripped off her goggles, and Ethan’s breath caught as he stared into her forest green eyes. “I swear you came out of nowhere. You’d think I’d see a whole adult man in front of me enough to avoid crashing into him, but apparently not.”

Ethan just looked at her; mouth parted in a half smile.

“Are you okay?” She pushed his goggles up to his forehead; moving his head from side to side as if checking for physical signs of concern. “I’m a nurse, if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m not in pain,” he said; blinking out of her thrall. “I just…”

“Yes?”

 Ethan shook his head. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” She smiled softly, and Ethan knew he fell in love in that moment, unable to stop himself. “I had a nice cushion to soften my landing.”

Ethan laughed and hoped he could blame the redness of his cheeks on the chill in the air. “Glad I could come in handy for something. I’m Ethan, by the way.”

“Julia.”

He mouthed her name back at her, as if committed it to memory, feeling the way it sat on his tongue. Never had a word felt more right.

“I’m sorry I ruined your clean streak.”

Julia arched a brow; mouth pursing in amusement. Ethan’s hands rested on her hips, but she didn’t seem inclined to push them away. He vaguely acknowledged other people swerving around them; snow making the skin of his nape cold and wet.

“You been watching me, Ethan?”

He offered her a boyish shrug, unable to deny it. “Might have seen you on the slopes earlier.”

She climbed off him and stood; holding out a hand for him which he eagerly accepted. They were both wearing mittens, but it still felt like he was zapped by lightning, her palm in his. “I still feel awful about crashing into you. Can I buy you some hot cocoa?”

“Want to keep an eye on me huh?”

Julia chuckled sheepishly. “Can’t exactly turn the inner nurse off. And I want to make sure you didn’t bash your head or hurt your back or something.”

It would take a lot more than a bit of compact snow to rough him up. Still, he didn’t reject the offer to spend more time with her. Ethan knew it was stupid – he was on vacation, he was a spy, he was emotionally scarred in ways she shouldn’t have to understand – but he couldn’t help but want to spend more time with her.

It was a risk. Not even a ‘made-up-on-the-fly-but-if-it-worked-out-he-could-pretend-it-was-calculated-all-along’ type risk he implemented on missions either. It was worse. It was one he wanted to make just to see more of her smile.

“I could go for some hot cocoa.”

She nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the bar, and Ethan followed. They unstrapped their boards, stomped the snow from their boots, and were soon tucked away in a table in the corner sipping on hot cocoa with tiny, little marshmallows floating on top. She’d looked at him in challenge and said, “You’re not too chicken for marshmallows are you, Ethan?” And well, what could he do, except ask the barman for extra.

They talked for hours. Until the sun set and the barman rang the bell for last orders.

Ethan walked Julia to her cabin and said goodnight with a kiss to her cheek.

They spent the rest of their vacation together. He found out what Julia looked like sleep-soft and wrapped in his sheets after their third day together. While she slept Ethan had the insane thought about marrying her so he could see her like that every day. When he realised she lived in the same city as him, it felt a little like fate.

Luther only raised an eyebrow when Ethan returned from his vacation and put in a request for a transfer to the training department. Clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I hope it works out, brother.”

Ethan did too.

That had been two years ago.

They lived together now, and Julia wore his ring. He’d proposed to her six days ago; stretched out on the couch with Julia in between his legs, resting against his chest. She’d been talking about work – a teenage boy had broken his arm in a skateboarding accident; surly with everyone except Julia. Ethan teased her saying he obviously had a crush on her, and that was a very understandable reaction in his mind. Julia had elbowed him playfully in the side; laughing and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He’d blurted out the question before he’d even realised he’d said it.

Julia had twisted in his lap; mouth agape in shock. “Did you just propose to me, Ethan Hunt?” she’d asked; green eyes wide, but glassy with unshed tears.

Ethan had swallowed thickly, but nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

“Oh.”

He’d rummaged in his pocket for the little velvet box he’d been carrying around for the past month and opened it; holding up the simple ring with a singular yellow diamond embedded in the silver band so it didn’t snag on anything at the hospital.

“Marry me, Jules?”

She’d cupped her hands in front of her mouth and hiccupped out a sob. It had sounded happy so he hadn’t been worried. A moment later she’d said—

“Yes! Of course it’s a yes!”

And then she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him in for kiss; ravishing him until his lips felt bruised. Slipping the ring on her slim finger had felt like all the play-acting at being normal he’d been doing – pretending to study traffic patterns for the Virginia Department of Transportation, acting like he’d never killed a person before, that he was a person and not a machine of the IMF – had been worth it.

She had been worth it.

Or that was what he told himself every day anyway, even though he was haunted by the fact that they were doomed to never have their happy ending. He’d known from the first moment he’d seen her, and he’d been ignoring it. Blinkering himself against what was going to go wrong, because for once he wanted it to go right.

He’d never felt as much as a coward or at peace when he was with her.

He’d met her friends, her siblings, her mother for fuck’s sake. Lied to them all about what he did, who he was. Each one another log to add to the shitshow of a fire this façade of a life he lived was. More people he could end up hurting.

And yet still, he didn’t let her go.

“You okay, baby?” Julia smiled at him; stretched out naked on their bed, her feet gently knocking against his shoulders, his being tickled by her hair.

Ethan hummed; blinking at her slowly like a cat. He rubbed his palm back and forth over his hair, unused to the short length after years of it brushing his ears. His breaths had evened out after collapsing back against the sheets; Julia having rode him like he was a prized pony. He glanced between her legs where his semen dripped from the plump folds of her cunt, drops clinging to the thatch of dark, neatly-groomed curls almost daring him to suck them clean.

She was the only person he’d ever fucked bare.

She was on birth control, because she loved being a nurse and wasn’t ready yet to be a mother. Ethan had just said it was her body, her choice; unable to add on or explain to her without telling her about the IMF, the missions, all of it, that he had never imagined being alive long enough to see a child of his grow up, and so to him, kids were a dream other people had.

Julia never brought up the possibility of kids, or their future again other than that; Ethan proposing and her accepting the only purposeful decision that implied a future together. One that they maybe had some control over. Part of him wondered if she knew he was holding something back. She was a smart woman, so probably. But she never asked, and Ethan never told.

Six months into their relationship; when Ethan had trained one lot of new recruits and was getting acquainted with his second, Julia had asked if he would mind coming into the hospital and doing a few tests. He’d gone because she’d asked. Bloods, urine and swabs. He could have told her he was negative across the board, because he had a monthly physical with the IMF, but he couldn’t provide the paperwork to prove it without exposing his carefully constructed paper mâché life they were living, and so he let her run the tests.

There had been something so breathtakingly sexy about her smirk when he’d handed her the results two weeks later, and she’d straddled him on the couch, unzipped his jeans, stroked him to hardness (it hadn’t taken much, it never did), and sunk down on his cock, groaning in relief like she’d been dying to feel his naked dick stretching her cunt full without the barrier of a condom in the way.

Him coming less than five minutes after she’d sat on his dick was less sexy and more embarrassing, but Julia had said she was flattered, and kissed him over and over, so it hadn’t been all bad.

Julia gently dragged her foot down over his torso to fondle his cock where it rested on the pouch of his balls. “Can you get hard again?” she asked; an impish smile on her face.

“I’m forty three. Not seventy three, you minx.” He caught her foot and tickled the sole. She shrieked out a laugh, trying and failing to bat his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “Mercy, mercy.”

Ethan let her foot go. “You want to fuck again?”

“Mmhmm.” Julia bite her lip, and Ethan felt when she looked at him like that, he’d do anything she ever asked of him.

“Okay. Give me five minutes and I’m at your service.”

“I think I can keep myself occupied until then.” She sat up abruptly, and shoved him over onto his belly.

“Jules!—”

She slapped him on the ass; massaging away the sting because it wasn’t in her nature to be anything other than kind. Blanketing his back she whispered against his ear. “You saying you don’t want my mouth on your tight, little hole, Ethan Hunt?”

Ethan scrunched his eyes against the wave of arousal that washed over him. She’d had her mouth on him once before, but he’d not managed to find the nerve to ask her to do it again. The fact that she wanted to…

God, he loved her.

His throat clicked as he wet his throat. Shook his head. “Please, love.”

Julia kissed the soft patch of skin behind his ear and slunk her way down the length of his body; peppering kisses down his back as she went. Palming the flesh of his ass, Julia spread his cheeks. Her breaths ghosted the hot flesh of his hole, and Ethan’s toes curled against the bedsheets.

He bit down on his pillow at the first swipe of her tongue; saliva coating his rim and dripping down onto his balls. She swirled the pointed tip around the puckered furl of his hole again and again, dipping inside him, and slurping at his rim like she couldn’t get enough, until he became soft and pliable. Julia cupped his balls from behind and Ethan whimpered out a moan.

“You hard again now, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

She smacked a wet kiss where his ass met his thigh, and rolled him onto his side. Settled in front of him. He lifted her leg and pulled it back to rest on his hip; exposing her flushed pussy. Lined his cock with her entrance and pressed inside. His own spend slicked the way. Even though he’d already been inside her once, she was still tight and hot around him. She was heaven. He rolled his hips; fucking into her slow and deep. Covered her delightfully soft, heavy breast with his hand and squeezed; pinching her nipple between his fingers.

Buried his nose in the dark waves of her hair; the cherry scent of her shampoo mixing with the musk of sweat and sex that filled the bedroom. Julia pushed her ass back meeting him for every thrust; moaning loudly every time his cock nudged against her cervix. The first time he’d fucked her that deep and she’d cried out in shock, Ethan had stopped stock still in fear of having hurt her. But she’d grabbed hold of whatever part of him she could find, kissing him desperately, and gasping out, “fuck me like that again, baby.”

He didn’t think he’d ever be deserving of her.

Julia skimmed her hand over her belly to rub at her clit; tightening around him until the thread of her release snapped and her pussy spasmed and gushed out slick, soaking his dick. He followed her over the edge a few minutes later; pumping his seed deep inside her. Ethan panted against her nape holding her tight.

She knew every part of his body – had touched, tasted, kissed him from head to toe and all the secrets in between – and Ethan gave his body to her without question, because he couldn’t let her know about the secrets of his job, the choices he made that if they were the right ones only a handful of people in the world would ever know about. A silent trade that Julia wasn’t even aware he’d made.

They’d built a life together, but it was one built on lies. Not his feelings for her, never that. He didn’t think he could stop loving her even if he wanted to. But the rest…It was a ticking clock counting down to when it was all going to blow up in his face.

He should have left her in the fresh snow of Lake Wanaka. Left her to be loved by someone else who could give her the world rather than chose to save the world when called.

He should have let her go, instead he held her tighter than ever, because even though every cell in his body was screaming at him another time, another life, another you—

where they’d make it,

be happy,

together.

He’d known from the very beginning it wouldn’t be now, wouldn’t be this life, wouldn't be them.

“I love you,” he whispered against the curve of her shoulder; hand moving to rest between her tits as his dick softened inside her. He could feel his cum leaking from her cunt around him and he wanted to stay inside her forever.

Julia twisted her neck to turn and kiss him; covering his hand with her own and entwining their fingers. Her engagement ring glinted in the mid-afternoon light. “I love you too.”

Ethan held her as she dozed tucked up against him, and she never knew his tears soaked into the pillow as he did; mourning a future he knew they’d never have.

Still, he married her a week later, before going to find Owen Davian and then the Rabbit’s Foot in exchange for Julia’s life, and not one word of his vows had been a lie. He’d love her and cherish her and protect her until his very last breath, even if they wouldn’t grow old together.

As soon as he’d accepted the mission – trainer of agents no more – Ethan had known his time of playing make-believe was over. His and Julia’s lives would never be the same by the end of this.

(Though he didn’t realise in that moment, just quite how true that was).

Still, for a little while there, and even a little while afterwards too, Ethan had been happy.

For a little while there, it had felt like holding the sun in the palm of his hand.

+

Part of Ethan had always thought he’d end up in prison; put there by the IMF so he could rot, his usefulness no longer outweighing how much of a nuisance they found him. He just never expected to contrive to help put himself there.

But he’d needed to make the cover story look real.

Cold walls, and an uncomfortable bed was his home now. Feeling more alone than he’d anticipated. But then he’d gone from the warmth of Julia’s embrace to a thin, scratchy blanket, and a large Russian who thought his name was Sergei as his cellmate. He’d been party to better deals.

Still Bogdan at least kept the loneliness from completely crushing his spirit. He was a jovial man, even if he towered over Ethan and seemed to view Ethan as some kind of pet that he had to look after; attending to him over the long months and stopping the other inmates from taking out their boredom and frustration on him with their fists. Ethan hadn’t had to pretend he couldn’t defend himself in years – even with Julia he’d told her he knew various self-defence techniques and martial arts, in case she wondered why a traffic pattern analyst had minimal body fat. But it was his mission to become close to Bogdan, to wheedle the intel out of him, and if he needed to appear meek and needing a large, hairy, Russian saviour, well, he’d done worse things for the IMF.

He didn’t know what Bogdan had done to make it so they were cell mates – they hadn’t been originally – but he was thankful.

Prison left a lot of time for thinking, and there were only so many stones he could throw against the wall before the other prisoners decided it didn’t matter who his cellmate was, they were going to introduce Ethan’s face to their fists anyway.

He tried not to think about Julia. It hurt too much to think of her face and not get to see her.

So he thought about Luther and hoped his best friend was okay. He thought about Benji; a new friend, but one who he trusted. The computer technician had come through for him in a way he hadn’t dared hope for when he’d been in Shanghai, and had continued to be there for him in the six years since.

He missed them. Luther’s snark, and Benji geeking out over Star Trek, Star Wars, anything. Just plain missed them.

Hell, some days he might even say he missed Kittridge. But only for a minute or two, before he regained his senses. He was losing his mind, that was a sure sign of it, and he didn’t know when it would end.

The chill got in through the small holes in the walls; mortar chipped away over time to crumble to the ground. It got into his bones easily, mostly at night when nightmares about the past collided in his mind with fears for the future. The IMF needed him in this godforsaken prison, and it helped keep Julia safe, but fuck, it was even harder being away from his friends and those he loved than he’d thought it would be.

It was ironic that he chose to join the IMF all those years ago because he didn’t want to go to prison, and now he was stuck in a dark, dank prison in Moscow, surrounded by burly men, and him being here was apparently keeping those he loved safe.

He’d been right though; the lack of sun and freedom was slowly killing him.

Like a plant trapped in shadow, unable to bloom.

“Sergei, you are shivering.” Bogdan moved off his cot; the rusting springs under the mattress squeaking at the shift in weight. “I will keep you warm.”

Before Ethan could protest, Bogdan clambered onto his bed and curled around his back. A sigh escaped his lips before he could swallow it down.

“Better, yes?”

Ethan cleared his throat; acutely aware of how much bigger Bogdan was then him. How much space he took up. The heat radiating off him and seeping into his weary joints. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Sergei. We are friends. Can’t let Russian winter kill friend.”

Bogdan snuggled even closer; arm draped over Ethan’s waist. His hand slid under the hem of Ethan’s tank top and he bit his lip; abdomen jumping at the touch of his palm. No one had touched him since Julia. Not like this.

He slowly stopped trembling; feeling the warmest he’d been since he was thrown into this cell in the first place. Ethan shifted and his heart stuttered as his ass brushed the hard length of Bogdan’s erection. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but it was still a surprise.

“I—sorry, Sergei. You feel nice in my arms, Bodgan forget you are not meant to be there.”

Guilt tightened his throat; the man behind him keeping him warm when he really didn’t have to, another person Ethan was lying to, using.

“It’s okay,” he whispered; wanting to repay Bogdan’s unexpected kindness in some way, and at the same time recognising in that horrible way that has Kittridge and Jim and the IMF written all over it, their claws sunk so deep into his marrow he’d rip himself to shreds trying to get free, that initiating something physical with Bogdan now, would likely deepen the bond between them which could only help later on.

What did it matter if he sold his body for the greater good? He’d sold his soul a long fucking time ago.

It was only the fact that he still thought the price was worth it that stopped him from purposely letting his fingers slip the next time he was hanging off the side of a building; meeting his end the same as roadkill.

“You can fuck my thighs if you want to.”

Bogdan sucked in a sharp breath. “Really?”

Ethan wiggled his sweatpants down over the curve of his ass to mid-thigh; keeping the thin blanket in front of his groin so as not to expose his own lack of hardness. Bringing Bogdan’s hand to his mouth he gathered all the saliva in his mouth and spat into his palm.

“That should help.”

He closed his eyes; the soft slap of skin on skin making it obvious as to what Bogdan was doing behind him. The plump head of his dick nudged the back of his thighs a moment later; pushed its way between them, bumping Ethan’s testicles. Ethan gripped the mattress as Bogdan rutted in between his thighs; his saliva doing little to help the glide. The friction seemed to be doing it for the Russian though, as he huffed and moaned in Ethan’s ear; strands of his hair fluttering against his cheek with each panting breath.

Bogdan snapped his hips hard and rough; months of pent-up frustration making him hump Ethan like a dog. He didn’t last long.

“Oh shit, Sergei!” he gasped; hips stuttering seconds before Ethan felt Bogdan’s cock pulse between his thighs, and the warm splash of semen against the underside of his balls and the inside of his legs.

“Ah, that was nice.” Bogdan grinned rubbing the tip of his large nose against Ethan’s shoulder in feline affection before tucking his dick back into his pants and haphazardly wiping Ethan clean with the edge of the blanket.

Ethan pulled up his sweatpants with a grimace, but didn’t tell Bogdan to go back to his own bed. Using him still even now; the warmth he offered too reminiscent of Julia’s smile, Benji’s honest happiness at seeing him, Luther’s steadfast loyalty, that Ethan couldn’t bear to be relegated back to the cold again.

Bogdan snuffled against his neck as he settled down to sleep; quietly snoring a few minutes later.

Ethan stayed awake for hours.

+

The kiss worked.

Of course it did. Men with money and power were easy to play like that; wanting things, women, they didn’t have purely because someone else did. Ethan could only assume that while Brij Nath was a successful media tycoon, he was also as dumb as a post if he couldn’t make a move and see how beautiful and enchanting Jane Carter was without jealousy fuelling his actions.

She had the softest lips.

For a moment, as Ethan’s fingers skimmed the line of her jaw, turning her face towards his, he’d seen the confusion flicker in her eyes. But then she’d quickly worked out what he was doing and he’d felt the smirk against his lips as he’d kissed her.

He’d felt nothing when he kissed Jane. Nothing, other than a pleasant warmth from getting to participate in a fantastic kiss.

The nothingness was soothing.

After feeling so much for Julia and having to let her go, and then the aching loneliness while he’d been in prison, it was nice to feel nothing. Though the morphine he was on probably helped with the lack of feelings too.

“You’re awake.”

Ethan blearily opened his eyes; turning his head to look at where Jane had kicked her feet up against the side of his hospital bed, leaning back in the no doubt uncomfortable chair in the corner. “H—” Ethan smacked his lips together; fumbling for the cup of water left on the bed table. After taking two long pulls through the straw, he tried again. “Hey.”

“Nice cast you got there.” Jane nodded at where his leg is wrapped in plaster; the aftermath of the incident in the multi-storey parking garage, one not so easily shaken off. They were all still in Mumbai, until Ethan was well enough to be discharged (his leg not the only thing that needed a rest).

He offered her a small smile. “I think I can make it work.”

Jane huffed out a laugh; wincing a little as it pulled on the stitches of her abdomen. “If anyone could…”

“Don’t think I’d wear that green dress as well as you did though.” She flashed a grin and then sobered.

“Ethan, I—”

“It was just a kiss, Jane.” He shifted; pushing himself up against the over-fluffed pillows. “Just a distraction. Nothing else to it.”

Jane exhaled in relief. Then immediately grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything, I just—”

“You’re not over Hanaway. I know.” Ethan held out his hand, and Jane slid her palm into his. “And I’m not over Julia.” He brushed his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. Her skin was so soft, yet she used a gun flawlessly. “We’re friends and teammates, Jane. At least I hope we’re friends.”

“Of course we are.”

“Okay, good. Then that’s alright then.” Both of them knew if they truly wanted to, they could be more than friends. They worked well together, and Jane was obviously a beautiful and competent woman. Dangerous too. Just his type really. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Jane.” He squeezed her hand, needing her to know he meant it.

The morphine was making him tired, his brain fuzzy. But he’d had to make his mouth say words that actually made sense in worse situations, so he managed.

Jane hiccupped out a wet laugh. “I’m glad you’re my friend too, Ethan. Even if you’re fucking insane.”

He quirked his head like a bird. “Didn’t you kick Sabine Moreau out the missing window of the Burj Khalifa?”

There was no regret in her gaze. She’d sought her revenge, and killing Moreau seemed to have given her some modicum of peace. Ethan was happy for her. Glad she wasn’t like him—haunted by ghosts that refused to move on. “That’s not as insane as you climbing the fucking thing.”

He shrugged, conceding the point.

“You don’t have to stay.”

Jane let go of his hand and helped herself to the bunch of grapes that were placed on the table. He never knew why people brought grapes to a hospital, seeing as they were one of the most chokable foods around. “Brandt brought them,” she said; following his gaze to the bag of fruit. “Thought it would be funny. I said you’d probably prefer it in liquid form, but everyone vetoed the idea of you on Morphine and drunk on wine, so sorry, no dice.” She plopped another grape into her mouth and chewed. “And I’ll go when my replacement gets here.”

“What are you running shifts or something?”

“Just for the first few days. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve escaped a hospital.” That was true. Though he wasn’t being hunted by the SVR this time, nor was he handcuffed to the bed, so the urge to escape wasn’t so much an itch under his skin, as more a mild tingle that he could ignore. Plus, he didn’t think even he could run away with his leg in a cast even if he wanted to.

“Who gets the next shift then?”

“Benji.”

Ethan couldn’t help but smile. Jane snorted; shaking her head in fond amusement. “Don’t look too pleased. He’s gonna be a real mother hen. He’s been very worried, you know.”

“He didn’t need to be.”

“Telling someone they don’t need to feel a certain way, doesn’t actually stop them feeling those feelings, Ethan.”

He knew that. He knew that very well. But still, he wasn’t sure he was worth such worry. Him dying on a mission just seemed like a when rather than an if. Especially now he was back in the field, with no one to come home to. He didn’t even have a home to come back to in the first place. Maybe the field was his home? Which, if it was, was just painfully depressing.

He’d prefer he died on a mission than anyone else though.

“Don’t lecture me, I’m injured,” he pouted.

“Someone’s getting cranky. Nap time for you.”

Ethan’s lashes fluttered closed as if on cue; for once not putting up any resistance. “You’ll stay?” he mumbled around a yawn.

“Until Benji gets here.”

“M’kay. You’re a good kisser, Jane.” He felt her brush his hair away from his face and kiss his cheek.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Agent Hunt.”

Ethan drifted off with Jane holding his hand again, safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone.

+

Ethan knew he was there, even before the sharp rap against the doorframe. He set his book down on the side and looked at Anatoly Sidorov; masking his surprise at the other man paying a visit.

“You gonna arrest me again?” he said.

Sidorov chuckled, shaking his head. Stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. He got a private room in this hospital which was nice.  “I won’t apologise for chasing you, Team Leader.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to. What can I do for you, Agent Sidorov?”

“I came to apologise.” Sidorov held up a bunch of daisies he’d had a behind his back. “For not listening to you about being on the same side,” he clarified. “Not the chasing. The chasing was rather fun.” His smile was sharp as a blade.

Ethan laughed; nodding in concession. He could appreciate the thrill of the chase, even if it made his own job harder. “Fair enough. Those for me? Did you get me flowers, Agent Sidorov?” He wasn’t on the morphine anymore, but he still felt a little giddy at the idea of an SVR Agent who had been pissed off at him since the beginning of his shitshow mission, buying him flowers to apologise like they were lovers who had had a fight.

“Yes, I did,” Sidorov said gruffy; shoving the flowers in his direction. “Don’t be a dick about it. Was being polite.”

“No, no,” he grabbed the flowers; sticking them in the jug of water on the table by the bed. Hopefully the nurse will get him another one to drink from on her next round. “I like the flowers. Just surprised. Thank you—I forgive you.”

Sidorov flashed him a smile. “That easy, Hunt?”

Ethan chuffed; smoothing out the waffled blanket over his lap. He was getting out of here tomorrow, and even though being trapped in one place had been driving him nuts (and reminded him in passing of being in prison), and he longed to just run – feel the wind in his hair, the joy from freedom of movement burn in his veins – he couldn’t deny that his body had needed the rest. Still.

“That tired.” He wasn’t getting any younger, he was fucking fifty for fuck’s sae; but he pushed his body to its limits every mission. He didn’t know how much longer he could carry on pretending he could bounce back the same way he did when he’d been two decades younger. “Not everything has to be a fight, y’know.”

Sidorov hummed. “Make love, not war? That kind of thing?”

“Heh. Sure. Something like that.”

“Interesting.” Sidorov moved closer; the soles of his shoes softly tapping against the linoleum floor with each slow step. “I hear you’re going back to the US tomorrow.”

“Mmhmm. Happy to be rid of me, no doubt.”

Sidorov didn’t answer. His fingers toyed with the edge of the waffle blanket, and Ethan moved his hand to rest by his hip; brow furrowing as he tried to get a read on what the other man was doing. He worked it out when the blanket was flipped down, and Sidorov gently brushed the flat of his belly. Hinted at going lower.

He arched a brow in question.

“I’m not hard,” Ethan said, because it was pointless trying to pretend he didn’t know where this was going.

“Not a problem, Hunt.”

Sidorov took Ethan’s admission of being soft as permission to stick his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants; wrapping his fingers around Ethan’s dick. Ethan hissed through his teeth, letting out a yelp of shock.

“Y-Your hand is cold.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart.”

Ethan nodded dazedly. “Just took me by surprise.”

“Keep quiet, Team Leader. Don’t want us to be disturbed, do we?”

He took a deep breath; calming his heart rate. His dick was beginning to perk up – from the slow strokes of Sidorov’s hand and the risk of getting caught. Adrenaline was a powerful drug, as he’d learned a lot over the years.

“Got any lube on you—ah, shit!” He bucked up into the grip of Sidorov’s palm. “I’m an injured man. Don’t want a chafed dick too.”

Sidorov chuckled. Removed his hand; Ethan’s waistband snapping against his belly. He tried not to pout at no longer being in the tight grip of Sidorov’s palm. “Ah, I see. You are a pillow princess.” Sidorov nodded to himself like this made sense, even as Ethan gaped at him for the audacity. It wasn’t like he could move much, what with his leg in a cast in all. And Sidorov was the one to fucking start this, for fuck’s sake. Honestly. “That is okay. I can deal with a princess like you.”

He spat on his palm, and then grasped Ethan’s dick again; stroking him harder, faster. Ethan clutched at the blanket; hips rolling upward, fucking into his fist.

“Ah, this is better, hmm?” Sidorov chuckled; obviously amused by Ethan enjoying being jerked off. He squeezed Ethan’s cockhead on the upstroke, making him garble out a moan.

“Asshole.” He bared his teeth as Sidorov did it again.

“You like it.”

Sidorov sped up, and Ethan soon felt his balls pulse in warning. “I’m gonna come,” he warned.

“Might want to move your shirt.”

Ethan scrambled to pull his t-shirt up to his armpits; not wanting to have to explain to his nurse why he was covered in his cum. Sidorov grabbed his balls with his other hand; rolling them in his palm. He stared at the sharp lines of Sidorov’s face, so different from Julia’s. It wasn’t the first time he’d been touched by someone he was only mildly attracted to, but he’d thought for a while back there that he’d only be touched by someone he loved.

His body didn’t care though.

He gasped out a shaky breath as he came; cock shooting thick ropes of semen all over his belly and Sidorov’s hand.

“You are a messy pup, hmm. That’s okay.” Sidorov lazily licked his fingers clean as he grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on the side. “I clean you up.” He wiped at Ethan’s stomach; a few drops smearing and matting the dark trail of hair under his navel. Ethan just stared at him wide-eyed and mouth parted.

Sidorov sucked his fingers clean of every drop of Ethan’s cum; swallowing it down like it was jam that had oozed out of a donut. “Not bad,” he shrugged.

Ethan garbled out a hysterical laugh, because, Jesus.

He tugged Ethan’s t-shirt from his fingers, and pulled it back down in place. Ethan let him, because this wasn’t the usual visiting time happening, and he didn’t know how to deal with this. “I will go now. Not all of us can lay around in bed all day.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. His cheeks were flushed pink. “Thanks for visiting. And uh…the flowers.”

Sidorov smirked. “My pleasure.” He sauntered towards the door. Turned in the doorway. “Oh, and let’s try not to meet again, hmm, Team Leader Ethan Hunt?”

He gave the other man a lazy salute; strangely fond of the Russian Agent. “See you around, Agent Sidorov.”

Ethan slumped into the mattress as Sidorov left; huffing in disbelief at what had just happened.

“Was that the guy who thought you were the bad guy?” Benji bustled his way into the room; craning and twisting his neck as if trying to catch the back of Sidorov walking down the corridor.

“Hey, Benji. And yeah. He came to apologise.”

Benji’s brows rose to his hairline; plopping down next to him on the bed, and stretching out. “That was nice of him I suppose.”

“The chair not good enough for you, Benji?” he asked, not that he particularly wanted him to move; he was deliciously warm.

“Shut up. We’re cuddling. Now, get here, Ethan. I’m giving you medicinal hugs.” He pulled Ethan into his arms, and Ethan laid his head on Benji’s chest. He smelled like detergent, citrus cologne, coffee and red twizzlers—the combination, one of comfort to Ethan.

“Medicinal hugs, huh?”

“Yep.” Benji stroked his hand down the length of Ethan’s spine; affectionate and gentle like he knew how starved for intimacy Ethan was. The hero-worship Ethan had seen in his eyes at the beginning had faded, but it had been replaced by genuine respect and friendship. And something else in those blue-grey eyes that Ethan hadn’t quite worked out what it was yet. And he was too tired to think right now.

Tired and warm and safe.

“What had you all flushed anyway? What did Sidorov say to you?”

Ethan swallowed; dick twitching in his sweatpants in memory of his release. “He told me he hopes we don’t meet again.”

“Oh, very nice. Asshole.”

His mouth twitched at the side, as he hugged Benji tighter. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

+

“I bought pie.”

Will blinked at him from the doorstep of his apartment; looking rumpled and cosy in a thick, grey woollen sweater and a pair of jeans. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”

Ethan held up the blueberry pie he’d gotten from the diner down the road. “I bought pie.” He repeated. Held up the bag in his other hand. “And noodles.”

Will pursed his lips; crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the doorframe. “Did we have a date I don’t know about?”

“No.” The tips of Ethan’s ears flushed red. “I just…I know I told you about what happened in Croatia, and I think you’ve forgiven me.” Will jerked out a nod. “Okay, that’s good. Still, I want to make it up to you. For having to deal with that shit unnecessarily. So I brought noodles.”

Will flexed his jaw, as if considering the offer. Eventually he said, “And pie apparently.”

“Yeah, blueberry.”

Will blinked at him again; like a cat confused about what’s happening after running face first into a wall. “That’s my favourite.”

“I know.”

He liked blueberry pie, but not apple. Took his coffee hot and strong, but if he wasn’t feeling great he drank ginger beer. He always wore a tie and suit at work because he said how you presented yourself was important, and he preferred dealing with paperwork to people. Will was the best analyst in the whole IMF, but he was also a great field agent.

Ethan tried to learn his friend’s likes and dislikes, who they were as people rather than disposable assets; something to counterbalance all the depressing information he learned as part of the job. And Will had saved his life. Agreed to be on his team in the future. He liked to think that made them friends.

“Right.” Will cleared his throat; averting his gaze, a blush on his cheeks. It was cute. “Come in then. Stop clogging up my doorstep.”

Ethan grinned; following him into the apartment. “Nice place.” He set the food on the kitchen counter. A soft meow drew his attention downwards. A grey cat rubbed up against his calf; a purr rumbling through its body as it wound its way in between his legs. “Oh, hello. Who are you, hmm?”

“My traitor of a cat,” Will grumbled.

“Traitor?” Ethan gasped playfully; crouching down to rub his knuckles back and forth over the top of the cat’s head. Soft fur, not a strand out of place (which wasn’t surprising considering who the cat’s owner was), tickled his skin. “You’re not a traitor are you, cutie-pie?”

“She is a traitor. Grey is such a traitor, rubbing up against you like a hussy like that within seconds of meeting you, when it took me like a whole two months to get her to brush my hand!”

Ethan bit back a smile; endeared by Will’s little tantrum. Rubs Grey between the ears and then stands up; approaching Will with the same hand.”D’aww. Does Will want head rubs too?”

“What? No!” Will squawked; trying to duck under Ethan’s arm. Ethan hooked his other arm around Will’s waist, drawing him close. Rubbed his palm back and forth over Will’s dirty blond hair. “Ethan, you fucking—”

“Head rubs for my favourite analyst who’s not at all jealous of his own cat,” Ethan chuckled; enjoying the way their bodies pressed together as Will wiggled – not very effectively if you asked Ethan, seeing as his hold on him couldn’t be described as anything other than loose – as he tried to escape.

“You’re such a dick.” Will glared at him weakly, when Ethan stopped messing up his hair and just stood there hugging him from behind. Will’s heat seeped into him, and Ethan felt like purring.

“A dick who brought you food.” Ethan smacked a wet kiss against his temple, and danced over to the kitchen; honing in on Will’s cutlery drawer with intent. He grabbed knives and forks, along with plates; offering Will a shit-eating grin when he muttered under his breath about how he wanted to kick his ass for messing up his hair.

“That’s not the only way I could mess up your hair,” he winked.

Will paused, hands still trying to comb his hair back into place; face scrunched up like he’d glitched. “Did you just imply we could fuck?”

Ethan shrugged. He wouldn’t be opposed. Will wasn’t Julia, but then no one would be. But he’d had a lot of time to think with his leg in a cast, and he’d accepted that it would be cruel, and not something Julia would want, to compare any person who he might have even a spark of interest and attraction for, to what they’d had together.

“If that’s something you’d be interested in.” Ethan unpacked the boxes of noodles – beef chow mein for him, chicken pad thai for Will – and then focused on cutting out triangles of pie, placing them on the plates for afters.

Will wheezed out a disbelieving laugh; flopping onto the couch with a groan. “I can’t believe you just implied we could fuck.”

Ethan handed him his noodles; slumping down next to him so their shoulders knocked against each other. “I think I stated it explicitly actually. But still. It’s your choice.”

“Why me?” Will jammed his fork into his pad thai; twirling the noodles around the sprongs. “Wait, is this an offer for a pity fuck because you feel guilty about what happened in Croatia?”

“What? No. The noodles and the pie is because I feel like an apology and a phone that’s to be used for when there’s another world-ending mission wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that I didn’t consider who else would be impacted in my bid to protect Julia from the life I’d selfishly dragged her into without her knowing.” He carded a hand through his hair; the strands at the front immediately falling into his eyes again. “The offer to fuck was because you’re an attractive man, who I like, and who I think maybe likes me in return, and it would be nice to be held and touched by someone who I can trust.”

“And you didn’t think to ask Benji?”

“What?” he frowned; leaning back to peer at Will in confusion. “What about Benji?”

Will shook his head. “Nothing.” Exhaled deeply. Ruminated on his thoughts for a minute; chewing on his noodles. Swallowed and looked Ethan right in the eye. “Okay. We can have sex. After the pie though.”

Ethan grinned. “Of course. The pie is important.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while; a hockey game playing on the TV, volume down low. It was one they’ve both seen before, but that didn’t matter. Ethan was halfway through his chow mein when Will said, “I do like you.”

“Hmm?”

“I do like you, Ethan. I’m snarky and grumpy with people I like, rather than cold and politely distant, because I feel like they can handle that side of me.”

“Oh.” Ethan shoved a heaped forkful of beef noodles into his mouth. “You must really like me then,” he joked; cheeks bunching around his food and his words.

Will snorted, but he didn’t deny it.  They finished their food, and Will grabbed the pie. Their legs tangled on the couch as he sat back down. Ethan felt Will’s toes wiggle against the bone of his ankle, and the small, intimate touch sparked heat in his gut.

Each mouthful of pie felt like it was coated in arousal. He didn’t think blueberry pie was an aphrodisiac but it sort of felt like it right then. He couldn’t stop watching the way Will hummed in pleasure with every bite; pink tongue licking the blueberry filling from his lips.

He stopped eating his pie with two forkfuls to go.

“You not finishing your pie?” There was a smudge of blueberry on the corner of Will’s mouth. It was really fucking distracting.

“I—” Ethan cleared his throat; placing his plate on the coffee table. “You have pie on your face.”

“Oh shit.” He moved to wipe it away with the side of his hand, but Ethan caught him by the wrist, stopping him. “What gives, dude?”

He checked to make sure Will’s pie was all gone (it was), and slowly pulled the empty plate from his slack fingers, placing it next to his own. “I got it,” he murmured. Then he pressed in close; rasping his tongue over Will’s cheek, the corner of his mouth. Licked the smear of blueberry pie filling clean. “There, all gone.”

“Oh get here, you fucking sexy, annoying, sexy asshole.” Will grabbed him by the ears and smashed their lips together. Ethan moaned in surprise, but melted into the kiss. Cupped Will’s face in his palm, and blanketed his body with his own. He could feel the bulge of Will’s erection grind against his own, and it felt so good.

Ethan smiled into the kiss and snuck a hand under Will’s sweater. Warm, smooth skin greeted his palm. The fuzz of hair under his navel. He could feel the jump of Will’s abs every time he stroked his fingertips over his belly, licked into the heat of his mouth.

“You taste like pie,” Will murmured; turning his head so Ethan could suck kisses down the length of his neck.

“So do you.”

“I fucking love pie.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh; licking the sweat from his sun-kissed skin. “Shall I leave you and the rest of the pie alone?”

Will grabbed his nape, and rolled his hips. “Don’t you fucking dare. You promised me a fuck, Ethan.”

“Was just checking.” He felt paws knead at his rib cage then, and he twisted to look down the length of his torso to find Grey staring at him with wide amber eyes. “We have company.”

“Told you she was a traitor. She wants your kisses too.” Will thunked his head against the arm of the sofa; groaning at the interruption.

“Maybe later. Come on.” He stood up; pulling Will up with him. “Bedroom.” Will caressed Ethan’s throat for a moment, and then meandered in the direction of the bedroom. Ethan watched the curve of his ass for a moment. Stroked Grey along the length of her spine, scritching her downy-soft head, and then followed.

“You gave her head scritches didn’t you?” Will was laid out on his bed. His jeans were gone, so were his socks. Black boxer briefs moulded to his strong thighs, highlighting the way his cock strained against the fabric. His sweater was rucked up exposing his belly, and Ethan’s fingers twitched with the urge to touch every inch of him.

“Guilty as charged.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Get over here, cat thief. And lose the clothes.”

“Mind if I keep my socks on? They’re always cold these days.” He said that like they hadn’t been cold since Prague. Ethan was aware it was more psychosomatic than actually physical – he’d pressed his fingers against every inch of his feet on multiple occasions and always found warm skin – and he’d thought he’d gotten over it with Julia; shedding all of his clothes when he curled under the bedsheets with her because she liked his feet for some reason, and he’d been unable to deny anything when he’d already been keeping so much from her. It didn’t take a genius to see that the socks came back after he’d had to say goodbye to Julia. After prison too, because the Russians weren’t big on pandering to American inmates who felt the cold right down to the marrow of their bones.

“Sure. You’re lucky you’re pretty though. Not many guys can get away with wearing just socks with their dick out.”

He grinned in relief, and quickly stripped down to his socks; climbing onto the bed, pressing a kiss to the jut of Will’s hip. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah, pretty annoying.” Will’s blue eyes sparkled in the low light of the bedside lamp and Ethan felt privileged to be one of the few people who seemed to make him smile.

“Uh huh. I’ll believe that. Where’s your lube and condoms?”

Will jerked his head in the direction of the bedside drawer. He shimmied out of his sweater and underwear while Ethan grabbed the supplies. Ethan straddled Will’s hips when he stretched back out again. Will grunted out an Oof of surprise; hands immediately coming to rest on the dip of his waist.

Ethan flicked open the lube and poured a generous amount on his fingers.

“What are you doing?”

He reached behind himself; circling the rim of his asshole with two slick fingers. “Prepping myself so you can fuck me. What does it look like?”

“Well, yeah,” Will grumbled, “but I thought—”

“You thought what?” Ethan pressed inside with one finger; thrusting in and out to get used to the feeling. It had been a long time, but the need to be filled quickly overcame the alien feeling. Added a second finger, enjoying the sudden burn.

Will’s eyes were molten with heat; gaze scorching as it flickered from Ethan’s face to his dick, to where he was fucking back on the crook of his fingers as he stretched his hole. “I figured you’d be the one fucking me,” he said faintly.

Ethan shook his head. “I mean I could do, but I was sort of hoping—”

“I’ll fuck you!” Will blurted out; hand spasming where he gripped Ethan’s hip. “I’m just surprised is all. In a good way. I mean, have you seen your ass? Of course, I want to fuck it.”

Ethan chuckled; pouring more lube on his fingers and shoving back in his hole with three. Stretched and scissored the digits; avoiding his prostate otherwise this would be over before it even began. “William Brandt is an ass man, who knew.”

“I’m attracted to infuriating assholes. Of course, I’m an ass man.”

Their banter only made Ethan’s dick drool precum over Will’s belly. This was fun. It had been a while since Ethan had had fun. (That didn’t involve hanging off something anyway). He pulled his fingers free, and rolled them over, so he was on his back, Will in between his spread legs.

“Well, my fuckable ass is waiting for you to stuff it full, Agent Brandt.”

“Will.” He tore open a condom and sheathed the hard length of his dick. God, Ethan couldn’t wait to have it inside him; eight inches long, flushed darker at the tip, with a delightful looking curve to the left. A thatch of curls trailed from the base of his dick up to the divot of his navel, not as neatly groomed as Ethan would expect considering his usual appearance, but this just made him more desperate to be fucked.

“Hmm?”

“We’re in bed together. Don’t call me Agent Brandt, otherwise I’ll get a boner when someone calls me that in the office.”

Ethan grinned, and pulled him down on top of him. Will’s dick nudged against his hole, before he pressed in, in one long, insistent push, until Ethan felt the slap of his balls against his ass. “Okay…” Ethan tangled his fingers in the short hairs of Will’s nape and nipped at his ear. “…William.”

The shudder that rippled through Will was one he felt all the way down to his toes from how close they were connected. The way his big, fat dick pulsed inside him was just the cherry on top.

“Oh, you like that huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ethan.”

He bared his teeth in challenge; clenching down around the fat stretch of Will’s dick. “Make me, William.”

“Oh you fucking—" Will shoved Ethan’s legs up by his ears, and captured his lips in a fierce, biting kiss. Ethan could only cling to him as he pulled his dick out to slam back in; setting a sharp, rough, deep pace. He felt like he could feel Will’s dick in his throat; rearranging his guts with every snap of his hips. And god, the curve meant he rubbed over Ethan’s prostate every. fucking. time.

Goddamn him.

“Yes, yes, just like that! Fuck—filling me so fucking good. Harder, Will, harder.”

Will growled; practically forcing Ethan into a mating press as he fucked him like he’d die if he stopped. Hot breaths skipped over his sweat-slick chest. Ethan’s nails scored red marks over the muscles of his back.

Every wet drag of Will’s dick over his swollen insides lit up sparks in his brain. He wasn’t going to last long.

“Fuck, I—I’m close.”

“Good,” Will huffed out a strained laugh. “Because you’re so fucking tight and hot around me, I’m barely holding on.”

He wiggled a hand in between them and grabbed his dick; stroking it hard and fast, shooting ribbons of sticky white over his chest a few moments later. Will chased his release; hips stuttering as he groaned, spilling hot and wet into the condom following Ethan over the edge.

“Jesus,” he panted out; smooshing his face in between Ethan’s tits.

Ethan moved his legs from up by his ears to flop to the side. Wrapped his arms loosely around Will’s back. Stroked his hair; it was stuck up in haphazard tufts, all over the place. Ethan liked it.

“You think we worked off the pie?”

Will sat back on his heels, gingerly pulling his softening dick free. Snapped off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash. “Probably only half.”

Ethan hummed; lazily scratching his belly. He was loose and fucked-soft, and he didn’t want this feeling to end just yet. “Guess we’ll just have to go again then.”

“Of course you don’t have a refractory period. Some of us actually do, you know.”

“We can make out to pass the time? Or I could fuck you?”

Will stared at him and then sighed; climbing on top of him and nuzzling the crook of Ethan’s neck. Skimmed his hand down Ethan’s flank, squeezed his ass. Rubbed the pads of his fingers over where Ethan was puffy and gaping open; rim fluttering at the gentle touch. “How long you staying? Because depending on what you say, changes my answer of what we do.”

Ethan whimpered; greedy for more of his touch. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, but if we spend the whole weekend fucking, then I don’t think that matters much.”

“The whole weekend, huh? So, I’ll have chance to fuck you again?”

“Mmhmm.” He nosed at Will’s temple, breathing in the comforting tang of his sweat. “As many times as you want until my hole is loose and sloppy and I can’t sit down without thinking about you splitting me open.”

Will’s dick twitched in interest against his hip, and Ethan grinned. “Fuck, you’re dangerous,” he whined, but then he kissed Ethan again and again, until their lungs burned and his lips felt bruised, so Ethan thought he liked that about him.

They spent the whole weekend fucking, eating pie, and bickering back and forth with a grin on their faces. By the time Ethan had to leave, after waking up with Will snuggled into his side, cheek smooshed against his chest, and Grey’s furry ass right in his face (a fact which Will found utterly hilarious), he felt like the heavy loneliness that had been pressing down on him since he’d first been left to conveniently rot in Moscow prison had lifted.

“You know we can’t do this again, right?” Will said quietly, draped against his front door wearing an old hoodie and a pair of boxer briefs.

“Yeah,” Ethan said; having known since the beginning, managing to ignore it while they’d been in bed together, because the pleasure had outweighed the pain, but that wasn’t a manageable way to live. “But tell me why.”

Will’s mouth ticked in a half-smile. “Because if we carried on, I’d fall completely in love with you, and while I think that would be amazing, I also think we’re better off as friends. And I don’t think you have many of those. Not ones you trust anyway.”

At current count he had four including Will. It didn’t escape his notice that he had none outside of his team, outside of the IMF. Any of Julia’s friends that he’d become close to when they were together cut off all contact with him, as he’d expect.

“You’re right.” Ethan nodded and cupped his face; kissing him slowly—a goodbye to what they could’ve had. “Stay a little in love with me though, yeah? Feel like it’ll make me easier to handle when I inevitably piss you off.”

Will barked out a laugh, but nodded. “Go home, Ethan.” Grey meowed from her spot in between her owner’s legs, and Ethan ducked down to sneak in a goodbye head scritch. “And stop trying to steal my cat.”

Ethan walked down the three front steps backwards, and grinned at Will. Neither of them mentioned the sadness that clung to his curled in shoulders. “Thanks for the very enjoyable weekend, William.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the pie.”

He winked at his friend, enjoying the way his cheeks blushed pink, and slipping his hands into his pockets, he turned and slowly wandered back to his empty house.

Another right person wrong time, leaving its mark on his heart.

+

Ilsa Faust made Ethan feel like he had been skinned alive.

From the moment he’d first seen her, tied to the Bone Doctor’s wooden pole waiting to be tortured, and she’d entered with her sharp face and pretty shoes, it had felt like every nerve ending was exposed.

He couldn’t really explain it, except it was like looking in a mirror when he stared at her face. The glass cracked; showing a jagged, almost broken reflection back at him. Ethan had yet to work out which one of them was closer to shattering.

She was beautiful. Painfully so.

She knew it too. Used it as a weapon as easily as she handled any type of gun.

Ethan still hadn’t recovered from her shimmery, metallic, yellow dress; the way it moulded to her breasts, the curve of her waist, the slit up one leg that tempted him to slip his hand underneath. He’d let he go to maintain her cover, and because he knew she rubbed Benji the wrong way, but still he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

It had been a relief when Benji had agreed to follow her trail to Casablanca. Part of him knew it wasn’t fair to Benji who had been worried about Ethan the whole time he’d been on the run, who had risked everything to come to Vienna just because Ethan had asked – who was now the CIA’s target as much as Ethan was – but he hadn’t been able to explain why they needed to go after Ilsa.

It had just been an instinctive need; a twinge in his gut that said she was important, and he could trust her. That twinge was rarely wrong. Sure, when it was, it almost killed him, but the risk was always worth it.

He hoped Benji would come to like her, like Ethan did. That child-like part of him that just wanted the people in his life to get along, and not wanting to have to choose between them.

“You know I don’t trust her, right?” Benji said, as they spotted the lipstick mark pinned to the wooden door of the villa. The sun beat down on them, and Ethan was glad he’d chosen a suit he could breathe in.

“I know.” Benji had made that obvious. “But you trust me right?”

Benji sighed; following Ethan as he pushed open the door and wandered up the path to the bungalow. “Yes, yes. Of course I do. I just…” he caught Ethan’s wrist in a loose hold. “Be careful, yeah? Please.”

Ethan offered him a flicker of a smile. “I always am.”

Benji snorted, which rude. Though probably a little bit fair.

They found her outside; surfacing from the depths of the outdoor pool like a lithe mermaid. Transfixing his gaze like a siren. Ethan grabbed a towel and sauntered closer; watching the drops of water run in rivulets down the lines of her body.

“You found me then,” she murmured; running the towel over her damp hair, squeezing the excess water from the dark strands.

“We did.”

“We?” Ilsa looked deep into his eyes, and Ethan felt seared alive.

“Me and Benji.”

Ilsa peered around him then, waggling her fingers at Benji in a cute wave as if it was the first time spotting him, though she didn’t act surprised to see him. Benji huffed but waved back. “Yes, hello. Hi. I don’t trust you, but Ethan said we should all work together, so I’m here because Ethan is my friend. You even think about hurting or betraying him, and you won’t like what I do.”

Ethan stared at Benji incredulously; never having heard him so passionately defensive about him before. If it was anyone else he would say he was jealous, which was ridiculous. (Or more like a thought that Ethan didn’t dare entertain, not willing to risk the status quo, for fear of what would happen if his heart was cleaved in two again). He didn’t deserve Benji’s loyalty, but he couldn’t deny it settled in his rib cage, right next to his heart like he couldn’t stop it. Like it was meant to be there. Still—

“Be nice, Benji,” he chided; squeezing Benji’s little finger to soften his warning.

“No, it’s okay,” Ilsa said; plush lips curving in an amused smirk. “Your guard dog is cute.” Ethan sighed, and he didn’t need to be looking at Benji to know he was bristling in outrage, he could feel him vibrating with it where their fingers were curled around each other, but Ilsa didn’t care. “And we can work together, but you both know I might have to betray you to keep my cover.”

“We know,” Ethan said before Benji could answer. He had a feeling Benji was close to cracking out his endearing British curse words. “Let’s go inside. You can fill us in on what we’re missing.”

Ilsa led the way; hips swaying back and forth. Her black bikini barely covering the generous flesh of her ass cheeks. Ethan squeezed Benji’s finger one more time, checking that he was okay – Benji jerked out a nod even as frustration stained his cheeks – before he followed Ilsa inside.

They discussed Solomon Lane, and the underwater vault. Ethan agreed to be the one to do it, because neither of the other two could hold their breath for the amount of time they’d need. Still, Ethan wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Ilsa was sceptical he’d be able to do it – if he was being honest, so was Ethan, just a little bit – but Benji believed in him.

He wondered if the other man knew how much that meant to him.

After discussing the details of the plan, Ilsa said, “Benji, why don’t you enjoy the pool for a few hours. We can’t break in just yet anyway.”

“What will you be doing?” he asked warily; eyes sharp as a hawk’s behind the lenses of his spectacles.

Ilsa trailed her fingers up the length of Ethan’s arm, across his shoulders. He just about managed to suppress the shiver her touch left in its wake. He sort of felt like a chew toy being passed between two dogs that didn’t get along. Which was an absurd thought because Benji was his friend, and Ilsa….well, Ilsa was something Ethan didn’t quite know how to label. “I need to speak to Ethan about something private.”

“I bet you do,” Benji muttered under his breath.

Ethan’s cheeks blushed pink, because he wasn’t an idiot. He knew she was going to lead him to her bedroom. He just wasn’t sure he was prepared for what would happened when he got there.

“I—enjoy your swim, Benj.” Bizarrely, even though there was nothing between them but friendship, he needed the other man to give some kind of implicit permission. Or at least assuage the niggle of guilt he felt for the fact that he wasn’t going to stop whatever plan Ilsa had set in motion.

Benji waved him off; grumbling to himself as he scuffed his way to the pool. Ethan sighed in relief. Watched him unbutton his pink, linen shirt; the fabric fluttering to the poolside tiles, exposing his freckled shoulders.

“Come on, Hunt. This way.”

With one last look at the notches of Benji’s spine as he started to undo his chinos, confusion furrowing his brow because Benji wasn’t someone he usually lusted after – he was his safe space, the friendship he never wanted to fuck up, though he was unable to deny he was a handsome man– Ethan turned on his heel and followed Ilsa into her bedroom.

She was sat at the foot of the bed when he entered; leaning back on her hands, assessing him. He flapped his arms out to the side. “You have me alone,” he said, “what do you want, Ilsa? Because we both know you don’t want to discuss something with me.”

He wanted her to say it out loud. Force this tangled thread between them that made it so Ethan felt like he was drowning and gasping for air all at once, out into the open. Acknowledge it so it wasn’t just him.

“Perhaps I want to discuss how pretty you’d look on your knees.” She crossed one leg over the other; errant drops of pool water dripping from her manicured toenails. “Or the fact that you’re so desperate for me to fuck that peachy ass of yours, you feel the phantom press of my cock inside you for a week afterwards..”

Ethan clenched his jaw; the back of his neck flushing hot and red. He’d thought about it, he couldn’t deny it. She was fascinating. Powerful. Like a jaguar that could scratch his face off, but was passing the time toying with him. Ethan had yet to work out if it was because she just liked to play games when she wasn’t deep under cover, or because she wanted him back just as much.

The idea of it being a bit of both made arousal curl in his gut. He did have a type after all.

She was a version of him he’d been three years ago—trapped in the world of espionage, no longer able to fool himself that he could ever be free from it outside of dying on the job. And that was an outcome that Ethan wasn’t particularly fond of, mainly because if he was dead then he couldn’t protect the people he loved in his life. Where they differed though was that as far as Ethan could tell, Ilsa hadn’t tried retirement from the field before accepting this fate. She didn’t know any other way to live and seemed disinclined to try risking an alternative, whereas Ethan knew, from experience, there was no other way for him to live. Not if he wanted to keep the people he loved safe.

There was no one else he could trust to keep that small group of people safe, and if it meant he had to act as guardian to the rest of the world, then he would. Their lives were more important than his own, purely because without them, he was nothing.

Just a ghost of a boy who had been betrayed so many years ago.

He’d die to keep them all safe, but he hoped it didn’t come to that, because the mere idea of not being there in the aftermath cut through him like a rusty knife.

“I don’t have time for games, Ilsa.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood; walking to the bedside drawer. “Spoilsport. Lose the suit then. I want you naked please.”

He didn’t dare ask about keeping on his socks. The Moroccan heat staved off any lingering cold that clung to his bones anyway. Ethan stripped out of his clothes and climbed on the bed. His dick was half hard between his legs; plumping with arousal as he watched her untie the knots of her black bikini at the neck and mid-back, tugging it from where it moulded to her breasts. Ethan wet his lips at the sight of her rosy-pink nipples; pebbled into tight buds. Her bikini briefs hit the floor with a soft thwap and she stepped out of them gracefully.

A line of hair in the centre of her mons directed his gaze to the slit of her cunt.

His mouth watered at the thought of eating her out, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t allow herself to be caught on her back and pinned down. Not right now, and not by him. No matter how much she might actually want that deep down.

One of them had to give though for this to work; for them to relieve the pressure building between them before it burst at an inopportune moment, and the tense way Ilsa held her shoulders, the taut line of her spine, told Ethan it wasn’t going to be her.

They couldn’t not fuck though. Not if they wanted to concentrate on taking down Lane and the Syndicate.

Part of Ethan was a little annoyed they couldn't just work out the tension between them doing laps in the pool until their limbs were sore. He quickly shut that thought down though when he remembered Benji was in the pool, in just his boxer briefs. His dick twitched before he fully managed to repress the image of wet cotton clinging to his pale thighs.

Ilsa smirked like she knew what he was thinking.

A bottle of lube was chucked onto the bed along with a harness and a seven inch dildo.

“You come prepared for all eventualities, huh?” he joked; carding a hand through his hair. He’d only ever had one woman fuck him. Julia had been curious to try it and Ethan had been unable to say no. They’d gotten tipsy on eggnog and she’d stretched his ass with lube-wet, curious fingers right there on the rug in front of the living room fireplace; the room bathed in dancing lights from the Christmas tree in the corner. She’d run her hands up and down his back as she’d pushed inside of him; grabbing the thin layer of fat on his hips, laughing in delight as she’d started to fuck him. Ethan had barely lasted five minutes; the idea of her enjoying taking him apart like this turning him on more than anything else had.

Ethan had come all over the rug, and Julia didn’t stop smiling the next day when she washed it and hung it out to dry in the utility room out back. She pressed at the soft gape of his hole through his sweatpants as much she could the next day, and Ethan had ached to have her be that happy forever.

The reminder that he seemed to have some innate flaw that meant he couldn’t stop torturing himself with beautiful, strong women, wasn’t a welcome one in that moment.

“Isn’t that what we do as agents, Ethan?”

He flinched at the taunt that this was just part of the mission to her. He shouldn’t, but he did. He couldn’t help it. His heart was still the softest part of him no matter how he’d tried to harden it over the years, and every time he looked at her, he just wanted to save her—from herself, from him, from this life, from the future that was hanging over them like Damacles’ sword.

They were two sides of the same coin, and whichever way it flipped, Ethan wasn’t going to come out the winner.

They were too alike. Too ill-fated to live a peaceful life together. Too unused to peace to know what to do with it if they found it.

Ilsa had nothing to live for but herself, and Ethan lived for everyone that wasn’t him.

Two stars destined to never be in the same constellation.

Ethan’s fingers clenched at the bedsheets as he manoeuvred onto his hands and knees; head bent between his arms. “Come on then. We don’t have hours to waste.”

Ilsa huffed out a quiet laugh and grabbed the lube. Kneeling behind him she palmed his ass cheek, before spreading it to the side to expose his hole. She drizzled lube over his rim, and he bit back a moan at the cold against so hot a part of him.

She rubbed the pads of her fingers in small, teasing circles; petting him rim. Spreading the lube around. Globs of it dripped down onto his balls, and Ethan huffed impatiently.

Two fingers pressed inside him, and the sudden stretch burned.

“This obviously isn’t your first time,” Ilsa observed; pumping her fingers in and out with almost military-grade efficiency. This wasn’t about pleasure, it was about power. Another move on the chess board that was this life they lived. Only on Ethan’s side there was no clever strategy. He just enjoyed being touched and fucked, and it had been so lonely those months he’d been on the run.

It wasn’t the first time Ethan had gotten into bed with someone he probably shouldn’t, but it also wasn’t going to stop him. Life made strange bedfellows of us all, and Ilsa hadn’t been wrong when she said Ethan wanted her to fuck him. To break him apart maybe?

If only because there was a part of him that hoped she might be able to stitch him back together in a way that wasn’t so heavily scarred.

“No, it’s – ah- not. That a problem?” Ethan pushed back against the crook of her fingers; dick drooling on the bedsheets underneath.

“Of course not. It’s refreshing to find a man in this business who doesn’t use his gun as an extension of his dick, and who knows taking it in the ass from a woman doesn’t make them less of a hero.”

Ethan hissed through his teeth as she wiggled a third finger inside him; seemingly loathe to actually hurt him despite the barbed comments that were as much foreplay as the stroke of her fingers against his swollen channel.

“Surprisingly even when I wasn’t disavowed, the IMF never had ‘taking it up the ass from men or women’ under the list of qualities they deemed as unsuitable in an agent,” he drawled.

“Funny.”

Ilsa’s fingers slipped free with a wet squelch, and she wiped the remnants of lube over Ethan’s hip. He heard the soft rustling as she strapped herself into the harness, fixing the cock in place. Ethan shuddered out a breath against his forearm; rubbing the sweat out of his eyes.

He felt exposed, waiting there on all fours; hole soft and open ready to be filled.

For a moment he thought about calling it off. Rolling off the bed, grabbing his underwear and joining Benji in the pool.

Her hand on his hip stopped him.

Ethan felt the blunt pressure of Ilsa’s cock at his rim, and then it popped past the ring of muscle, sliding inside easily—freshly applied lube helping to slick the way. He let out a punched-out moan as she settled inside him; the jut of her hip bones pressing into the flesh of his ass cheeks.

“Ready?” she murmured; massaging his flank.

Ethan blinked away tears; keeping his face hidden in the pillows.  Mourning what could’ve been between them. “Just fuck me, Ilsa.”

She hummed, and then the hard length inside him was being pulled back until just the fat tip kept his hole spread, before she slammed back in. Ethan grunted; pleasure zapping up his spine from where Ilsa rubbed over his prostate – her aim impeccable even in this. MI6’s weapon training showing how transferrable those skills were.

“Moan louder for me, Ethan.”

Just to be contrary, Ethan swallowed down as many sounds as he could.

Ilsa fucked him harder in punishment. Slapped his ass, until the skin felt hot and stinging red. She would have already worked out the rougher she handled him, the more he’d fight back; shoving his ass back to meet each thrust, only allowing soft panting breaths to fill the quiet of the bedroom—fucking blurring into fighting right there on the sweat-soaked sheets.

If she’d touched him gently, crooned praises at him and teased the pleasure out of him, she would’ve discovered just how easy he would’ve broken apart for her. But, they were too alike. She wouldn’t ask that of him; not used to anything being easy, nor anyone being so willing to submit without it being wheedled out of them like a game. And Ethan could never ask.

His needs were secondary to everyone else.

Perhaps this was part of the mission after all, and that was what hurt the most.

Because Ethan wasn’t the one who needed this – he liked Ilsa, had from the very beginning. She was talented, dangerous, beautiful, smart, and had a dry sense of humour he could appreciate. But she was also lost; trapped in a life she couldn’t see any way out of.

If it was down to him, he would’ve tried to bring her onto their side and his team just because he wanted to, because he wanted to shield her from what this life was. No need for sex. In his mind it wasn’t complicated. Just easy.

But for Ilsa, she couldn’t comprehend Ethan wanting her to stick around without there being some reason why. And sex was as good a reason as any. It was an easy reason even if tended to complicate things. If she fucked him hard enough he sobbed into the pillows, then whatever happened later – if he saved her life, or she decided to betray her cover to help him – it could be put down as transactional. Payment for whatever this was.

Nothing emotional about it.

It was why he hadn’t kissed her; despite how much he wanted to.

Despite how much he knew she wanted to as well.

Ilsa was clinging to the façade she’d built of a cold, numb life, and if Ethan tried to bring those walls down, Ilsa would collapse alongside them. Not that he was so egotistical to think he had that kind of power, but because he saw so much of himself in her, and he knew he’d have been the same. He’d built his own walls higher after Prague, after Jim – not wanting to be betrayed again. Julia had slipped past his defences because he’d never seen her coming; knocking on the door rather than trying to tear his defences down with brute force.

Of course, by the time he’d showed her everything – no matter that he’d had no choice – it had been too late. The foundations of their life began to crumble, each day together trying to bet against the odds, until Ethan had had to admit that they couldn’t be together because she would always be in danger.

And it was all his fault.

A constant problem he never seemed to be able to fix—he wanted to keep the people he loved safe, and yet they were only in danger because of him in the first place.

After Croatia, and the subsequent cutting of the thread that tied them together, Ethan had built his walls even higher. Only those he’d already let in, and who refused to leave him – Luther, Benji, Will and Jane – stayed tucked inside with him.

Ilsa shouldn’t have had a chance of infiltrating his defences.

Then again it wasn’t walls between them, but a mirror.

She was him and he was her. Just more cynical. More broken and bruised. He should’ve been even less trusting, but he’d never truly regretted putting his trust in those he deemed worthy of it. Not even Jim. Or before that.

Because he could trust the lessons he’d learned from those choices if not the people involved afterwards.

“Come on, Ethan,” Ilsa cooed; digging her nails into the flesh of his ass. “You know you want me to hear those pretty noises of yours.” He whimpered into the pillows as she kept his ass cheeks spread. He could feel her eyes watching the flutter and strain of his puffy hole, with every drag of her silicone cock. Humiliation painted his chest and neck red; tangling with arousal in his gut making his balls pulse with the need to come.

His whimper obviously wasn’t loud enough, because Ilsa let go of his ass cheek and grabbed his hair; yanking his head back, his spine arching obscenely.

“Ah fuck—” he gasped; the slight change in angle causing his prostate to feel even more tortured.

Ilsa chuckled lowly. “That’s better. Now, come on, pretty boy. Come on my cock. I want you to make a mess of these sheets.”

Ethan had never been that great at following orders, but that one he did.

Ropes of sticky white spurted from his cock; balls throbbing as he blew his load. Ilsa untangled her fingers from his hair; stroking his nape, letting his head drop forward again. She pulled her cock free from his still twitching hole, and nudged him to fall onto his side out the way of the pool of cum he’d just sullied the sheets with.

Ethan blinked at her blearily feeling dazed.

Ilsa removed the harness and dildo, and spread her legs. He could see the wetness clinging to her puffy folds. She gathered the slick from her cunt onto her fingertips, spreading it over her clit. Ethan watched as she rubbed at the bundle of nerves sharp and fast, biting her lip as her breaths sped up.

“Come, Ilsa,” Ethan whispered; voice gruff from how fucked out he was.

She tipped her head back in a silent scream; her pussy spasming, slick gushing from her swollen hole dripping down to wet in between her ass cheeks. Ethan licked his lips, but knew it was fruitless. Ilsa wasn’t going to let him bury his face in between her thighs and feast on her cunt. Her toes curled against his thigh as her release ripped through her, but her leg extended, kept him at a distance.

Her fingers eventually slowed to stillness; her chest heaving, sweat beading between her breasts. They stared at each other; yearning swirling in both their gazes.

Neither of them said anything.

A noise broke through the silence.

“What was that?” he squinted; half-lifting his head from the pillow.

Ilsa smirked; sucking her fingers clean of her own juices. “I believe that was your Benji, darling.”

Ethan sighed out a deep groan and covered his face with his hands. “You couldn’t have mentioned he was watching earlier?”

Ilsa stroked the arch of his foot and arched a brow, “where would be the fun in that?”

She was catty when she wanted to be, but Ethan couldn’t help but like her.

He hoped Benji never brought up what he’d seen, because Ethan had no answers to any questions he might have.

All he knew was that Ilsa and him could never be together, but they’d be connected by an indestructible thread until the end of time.

He just wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

+

The rubber soles of Ethan’s boots tread softly against the linoleum tiles of the prison corridor. Usually an escort would be with him, but Ethan had told them he’d be fine. After a brief look at his file, the guards on duty had believed him; sighing in relief at the fact no one had to deal with the prisoner Ethan was here to see.

Solomon Lane.

He was situated in a small prison on land that didn’t exist on any records, funded by a government agency that also couldn’t be found; waiting to be moved to another undisclosed location so one of the countries he’d pissed off with his machinations in charge of the Syndicate could have their pound of flesh.

Ethan hadn’t been particularly pleased to receive notification from Hunley that Lane wanted to see him.

He was only here because Lane said he had information for them. Information that would apparently help them track down more of the Syndicate. He’d known when he’d led Lane into that clear box, that if he saw him again it would be all too soon.

And here he was.

Ethan bit back a sigh and carded his hand through the short strands of his hair. He was missing out on game night with the team for this. Luther and Will had already busted his balls saying he was conveniently missing this month’s game night because he didn’t want to break his winning streak, and Benji had pouted at him, and crooned at him like he was a baby teasing him that they could play snap if he was scared of losing money to them.

He hadn’t mentioned it was Lane he was being told to visit; just said it was orders from Hunley that he had to meet a contact and it couldn’t be any other time. There was no part of him that had wanted to ruin the fun vibe, or bring up horrible memories by mentioning Lane’s name. Benji still had nightmares for fuck’s sake because of the bomb Lane had strapped to his chest, and it had been six months since Ethan had been able to save him

Who knew what untold damage telling Benji that Ethan was going to visit Lane in prison could do to the Brit. No, it was safer if he kept that information to himself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

The months had rolled by and while part of Ethan worried about Ilsa out there on her own without the team, his thoughts kept coming back to Benji. Ethan trusted him with his life, he was as close a friend as Luther was, and there wasn’t a day that didn’t go by that Ethan didn’t smile when he was with him.

It was getting harder to keep his feelings in check for him though.

Feelings he’d told no one about, but being surrounded by people who spied for a living meant he doubted some of the team didn’t know about the changing dynamic of his love for Benji.

As long as Benji didn’t ask him about it (because he was really shit at lying to him), then it would be fine. Nothing had to change.

Ethan shook his head like a snow globe to dispel his thoughts; not wanting Lane anywhere near them, as the guard leading him to Lane’s cell stopped.

“You have fifteen minutes. One of us will be back once the fifteen minutes it up. There’s no cameras in the cell.” Ethan knew that already. Hunley had informed him that there had been cameras previously, but Lane kept talking to them, and the staff on shift felt like he was looking through the cameras into their souls, even though there was no way he could be, and it had unnerved them so much most of them threatened to quit. So, the cameras were taken out. “You won’t be allowed out of the cell before the fifteen minutes is up.”

“That’s fine. Lane seems to like the sound of his own intellect, so I’m sure it won’t be a challenge getting him to talk the clock down.”

The guard huffed and unlocked the door. “Good luck,” he said. Ethan entered Lane’s cell, and the door closed behind him with a sharp bang. The lock clicked a moment later.

“Good to see you again, Hunt.” Lane’s voice rasped over him like gravel, just like the last time he’d been face-to-face with him. He was sat cross-legged on the floor; his feet bare, the soles carrying a thin layer of dirt. Strapped into a straight jacket; buckles pulled tight, hands and arms unable to move.

His beard was in neat enough shape to imply someone must be keeping him groomed.

Ethan folded his arms over his chest; the sleeves of his blue sweater pushed up to his elbows. “What do you want, Lane?”

“You’ve cut your hair.”

Ethan levelled him with a flat stare. “I was told you have information that would be of use to us. If you’ve changed your mind, then I have places to be.”

“How are those team mates of yours?”

He clenched his jaw and made to turn and leave. Didn’t matter if the door was locked, he was sure he could get out of here if necessary.

“You used to be more fun, Hunt.”

“I just remember outsmarting you at your own game.”

Lane smirked. Even sat on the floor, forced to look up at Ethan to maintain eye contact, he still acted like he had the upper hand. “It is always fun to have an opponent who makes the game interesting.”

“The information, Lane.”

“Did you think I’d just hand it over for free?” They’d been expecting this. Lane hadn’t set terms upfront, just stipulated it had to be Ethan he spoke to. No one else. Ethan and Hunley had discussed a list of possible things he might want – money, freedom, information; those were the three at the top of the list.

Didn’t mean they’d give it to him though.

“No. What’s your price?”

“It’s simple really. And the decision of if the IMF gets the information is down to you alone, Hunt.”

“I won’t ask again. What do you want in exchange for the information on the syndicate?”

Lane licked over the blunt edge of his teeth; eyes sharp as a predator. “I want to watch you touch yourself until you come, Ethan Hunt. That is the price. Are you willing to pay it?”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He half expected Lane to laugh, but the bastard just sat there smirking at him. He meant every word and Ethan knew it. His nostrils flared; anger bubbling in his gut. His body was a weapon and he’d trained himself to do what needed to be done for a mission, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still feel like he was coated in a layer of tar afterwards.

Lane was only asking him to do this because he knew Ethan didn’t want to.

He could hear Hunley in the back of his mind telling him to focus. “Fine,” he gritted out. Lane’s grin was all teeth.

Ethan thumbed open the button of his jeans and unzipped them. He shoved his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gripped the soft length of his cock.

“I want to see you properly,” Lane said.

“Yes, I know!” Ethan snapped. “But seeing as I’m currently as limp as fish right now, you can just fucking wait.”

Lane tutted. “Surely there’s something or someone you can think about to make you hard? Ilsa perhaps? Or a lover from days gone past?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lane.” Ethan stroked his flaccid cock; trying to encourage it to hardness. Lane’s gaze on him wasn’t helping.

“What about that lovely Benji of yours, hmm? Does he make your cock hard, Hunt?”

Ethan bared his teeth at Lane; growling in anger. “What the fuck did I just say?!”

Lane just laughed. Bastard.

Mentioning Benji though meant all of Ethan’s thoughts from earlier came back, and his mind swam with images of Benji’s face. The way his cheeks bunched when he smiled. The blush that spilled under the collars of his shirts when he realised he’d been babbling for minutes and no one (usually Ethan) hadn’t stopped him. The enticing curve of his ass.

His dick quickly plumped up in the grip of his palm.

Taking a steeling breath, Ethan pulled his cock free from the pouch of his briefs and started stripping it with fast strokes of his hand. Lane didn’t say a word now that Ethan was stood there exposed. Just watched, eyes like a hawk, as Ethan jerked off stood five foot in front of him.

Ethan wanted this whole thing over as quickly as possible, so although he didn’t want Lane anywhere near Benji, he thought about him because he knew it would get him to where he needed to be as quickly as possible.

He tightened the clench of his fist, and then he felt that tug behind his navel, and he came. Aimed his dick towards the floor; his semen splattering onto the tiles. Thankfully none got on his boots.

“There,” he said; tucking himself back into his underwear and doing up his jeans. “Now tell me the information.”

Lane quirked his head like a bird and said, “What information?”

Ethan’s jaw flexed and he balled his fist; the urge to punch Lane’s annoying face burning in his gut. “The information about the Syndicate you said you had.”

“Oh. That information. Yes. I forgot.”

Ethan blinked at him slowly. “You forgot.”

“Yes. How funny, hmm?”

“Hilarious.” Ethan strode forward and punched him in the jaw. Lane rocked back on his coccyx, blood staining his teeth. He heard the click of the lock go, and thank fuck, the fifteen minutes was up. “Goodbye, Lane. Don’t contact me again.”

“I enjoyed your little visit, Ethan,” Lane cackled. “See you soon.”

Ethan walked to the door, needing out of this godforsaken room. As he left, he saw out the corner of his eye, Lane fall forward onto the floor and army-crawl towards the pool of semen on the floor. Just before the door closed again, he caught the pink of Lane’s blood-stained tongue as he licked Ethan’s cum from the ground.

“I hope you got what you came for,” the guard said.

Ethan just huffed and marched as far away from Lane’s cell as possible; needing a hot shower to wash the experience off him.

Lane’s parting words echoing in his head with each step he took.

+

The White Widow. The whole room was focused on her.

Ethan watched his target from afar; elbow leaning on one of the high tables dotted around. Lark wasn’t the first mask he’d had to wear in his lifetime, but he couldn’t deny this one felt less palatable than most. Perhaps because he was having to wing it; attaching his own face to the name of a mastermind terrorist. Every second he pretended to be John Lark felt like tar clinging to his skin.

She wasn’t alone, even though she was the only one on stage. A number of bodyguards circled the room, though one never ventured more than five feet from her side. Their matching stark blue eyes suggested they were related. Carding a hand through his short hair, Ethan sauntered towards them.

The White Widow swiped a martini from the bar as she left the stage to a delicate, but interested applause. As she surveyed those around her, an imperious look on her face as she sipped from her drink, Ethan noted the resemblance to the mother she had just been speaking about.

Max lived on it seemed.

Ethan was secretly glad for the fact. He’d been rather fond of the older woman, and she, him.

“Hi,” he said; offering her a charming grin as he slipped into the space beside her.

“You can’t possibly be John Lark.” Her gaze roved over him head to toe. Pink tongue licking over the glossy cushion of her bottom lip. She was interested in him. Ethan couldn’t deny she was beautiful. White-blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She wore an off-white silk wrap-around top that exposed her midriff; a long flowing skirt highlighting her slim waist, the slit that came to her hip hinting at what she might have on underneath.

Ethan had a feeling it was very little, if anything at all.

“Why not?”

“You’re too handsome,” she drawled.

Ethan huffed out a laugh; toying with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around the end of his finger. “Does that mean you’re too beautiful to be the White Widow?”

“Touché. You can call me Alanna, Lark.”

“Pleasure.” He kissed the back of her knuckles. Movement caught his eye and Ethan turned to look at Alanna’s pet bodyguard. Ethan let go of Alanna’s hand and nodded in greeting.

“This is Zola, my brother. He’s rather…protective.”  Zola had a rugged, rough look about him; previously broken nose, ears that stuck out, a moustache on his top lip—those eyes that seared into him somehow made it all work so he was handsome rather than someone most would cross the street to avoid.

“Shall we get down to business?”

“No foreplay?” Alanna smirked. “Tut tut, Lark. You can hurt a girl that way.”

Ethan arched a brow. “I thought you might want to skip straight to the main event.”

Alanna dragged her nail along Ethan’s exposed collar bone; slipping her hand under his shirt. Her touch felt like it burned. “Scared to show a girl a good time, Lark?”

His brow furrowed, thrown by the direction this was going in. But it was fine, he could adapt. “What did you have in mind?”

She leaned in; pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That’s more like it. This way, Lark.” She entwined their fingers together and led Ethan out of the bar into a secret room in the back. Naturally Zola followed. Locked the door behind all them.

“I’m very peculiar about who I do business with, Lark. It’s not all about who pays the most. It’s about who I think will use what I have brokered for them most efficiently. You want the plutonium, but the question is, how much?” Alanna cupped his cheek; scritching her nails against his scalp. Ethan leaned into the touch like a cat seeking affection. “How much do you want it, Lark?”

“More than anyone else in this building.”

“Can you prove it though, hmm?”

Ethan’s throat clicked as he swallowed. His hand hovered over the curve of her hip. Zola stood two feet away with his arms folded over his chest, but he was poised to attack if Ethan did something neither of them liked.

“What would you have me do?”

“I’m glad you asked. Zola, get ready.” The other man began loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket.

“What…What’s going on?”

Neither of them answered. Zola continued undressing; removing his jacket, waistcoat and shirt. He unlaced his shoes, and then removed them along with his trousers, socks and underwear. His cock was ruddy and stiff between his thick thighs. Zola bent down and rummaged in his trouser pocket; pulling out a sachet of lube. Ethan could only watch as he reached behind himself, quickly and efficiently stretching his asshole.

“Lay on the floor please, Lark. Oh, and unzip your trousers.”

It would be pointless questioning further. He needed to get the Plutonium core, and Lark – who had no qualms about killing innocent people to further his manifesto – wouldn’t balk at fucking someone he’d just met on the floor of a nightclub.

Ethan laid down on the floor and undid his pants. He was half-hard already, because the Mitsopolis siblings were attractive people, and he’d always been attracted to people he should know better about.

“Now what?”

Alanna stepped closer; the soles of her high-heels clicking against the floor. She stared down at him; slowly pulling the floating material of her skirt up the length of her long, shapely legs. “Now you’re going to prove you’re a man worth doing business with.”

She placed her foot next to his ear and then slowly lowered herself down until she was kneeling just in front of his face. Ethan quickly discovered that apart from a white lace garter wrapped snug around her thigh, with a knife tucked inside it, Alanna was wearing nothing under her skirt. The sweet musk of her cunt teased his nose, and Ethan inhaled deeply.

Distracted by the scent of her arousal, he didn’t notice Zola moving. Not until his hand was on Ethan’s dick stroking him to full hardness. A condom was slipped onto his cock; an extra step Ethan hadn’t expected, but appreciated all the same. Zola gave his cock a squeeze once he was done.

“Ah, shit—”

Alanna gripped his hair, stopping him from moving. “Zola is going to ride that delicious looking cock of yours, while you eat my cunt. Your mission, Lark, is to make us both come before you do.”

“If I don’t?”

He felt the sharp press of a blade against his ribcage. He hadn't realised she'd grabbed the knife. “Then you’ll be left to bleed out on this very floor until the bar staff find you at the end of their shift and the plutonium will go to someone else.”

Ethan sniffed. Jerked out a nod. “You have a deal, Alanna.”

“Oh, now that’s what I like to hear,” she purred. “Don’t tap out on my now, darling. I’d hate not to be able to see this pretty face of yours again.”

Zola straddled his lap then; sinking down on Ethan’s dick inch by inch, until Ethan was balls deep. Ethan grabbed Zola’s calf, gasping at the sudden tight heat clenching down around his dick. Alanna used that moment to lift herself and sit back down on his face; wet pussy smearing over his waiting mouth.

“Get to it, Lark.” She dug the blade of the knife a little deeper into his flank.

Ethan palmed her thigh and then got to work. Lapping at her cunt, he trailed his tongue from hole to clit; sucking on the taut nub with a wet slurp. Zola started rolling his hips; fucking himself on Ethan’s cock. He felt hot and tight, and although Ethan could feel arousal churning in his gut, he concentrated on licking Alanna’s cunt, needing to get the plutonium.

She let out these breathy, little whimpers when he suckled on her clit, so Ethan focused on doing that; feeling the bundle of nerves quiver on his tongue. Slick coated his chin, the hollow of his throat. He hoped it didn’t soak the collar of his shirt, otherwise he was going to have a hard time explaining to Ilsa and Walker.

Zola sped up; bouncing on his dick like he was getting paid for it. He was silent apart from a few quiet grunts whenever he slammed down and Ethan nudged his prostate. His balls were throbbing with the need to come, but he held off. Licked at Alanna’s sweet, little pussy harder; nose brushing against the dark blond curls on her mons as he got his face right up in her cunt.

“Oh, oh, yes—right there, darling—keep going, I’m close.”

Ethan rolled her clit over his tongue; bucking up into the tight clutch of Zola’s hole. Alanna’s grip on the knife faltered slightly; no longer pressing into him as hard. It only took a few more thrusts for Zola to come; spasming around Ethan’s cock, and almost threatening to pull him over the edge with him. Only through sheer determination did Ethan stop himself from coming.

He fucked his tongue up into the drooling hole of Alanna’s cunt; slurping down her slick with greedy pulls of his throat. Gave her clit one long, hard suck.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Alanna yanked on his hair as she came; wetting his face with her release. He lapped at her until she pushed his face away and stood up on shaky legs.

He wondered what she’d think if he told her she tasted similar to her mother.

“Finish him off, Zola.”

Ethan grunted as Zola lifted himself off him with a wet squelch; tearing the condom off and replacing it with the hot suction of his mouth. He barely lasted three jerks of his hips before he shot his load down Zola’s throat.

Zola pulled off Ethan’s softening length; licking his lips as he swallowed. Ethan laid there as the other man redressed; chest heaving as he caught his breath. His face was flushed and glistening with sweat and Alanna’s pussy cream. Unfortunately there was no sink around here to splash his face, and the ones in the toilets were destroyed.   

“Seems you are a man who knows about foreplay after all.” Alanna resheathed her knife; curling her hair behind her ear.

Ethan tucked his dick back in his pants, and stood; righting his suit and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Do we have a deal then?”

“Yes. We have a deal.”

And with that she walked out of the room and back into the nightclub; Zola fully redressed and at her heels once again. Ethan inhaled deeply and followed them; Alanna’s musk on his tongue not quite able to mask the bitterness he tasted from knowing, deep in his gut, that this was all going to go terribly, terribly wrong.

+

Ethan landed on the craggy cliff side with a pained grunt. All he could hear was a ringing noise and his harsh breaths; his cheek tacky with blood that leaked from his left ear.

Stumbling to his feet, Ethan staggered around in a half circle. His gaze landed on Walker. Or Lark. Whatever name the prick wanted to go by. Ethan had met some despicable people in his lifetime, and Walker was up there with the worst. Him and Lane were well-suited for each other. Gleefully planning to irradicate the water supplies that would starve billions of people; acting so fucking casual about it – dismissing the lives of those people as necessary collateral damage only useful in supporting their genocidal and deranged terror-for-hire group’s nauseating manifesto - it made Ethan's blood boil.

Ethan usually tried to limit the body count as much as possible on their missions, but right now, he just didn’t care.

Walker had crossed the line.

Not only was Luther, Ilsa and Benji in imminent danger – along with the literal of billions of people that didn’t even know what Lane and Walker had planned – but the fucking bastard had brought Julia into this.

Julia.

Jules.

Ethan hasn’t seen her in six years, not since Seattle. Luther had kept him updated though; just small bits here and there. Enough to know she was doing okay. That she’d made a new life for herself. That Ethan hadn’t completely fucked up the life of one of the best people he’d ever had the honour and privilege of loving.

He never sought her out. Knew he wouldn’t be able to actually physically see her regularly and know it wasn’t him making her happy. Hearing about it and seeing it were two different things, and Luther, bless him, had worked that out. Ethan didn’t deserve him.

And now, she was down there in the camp, with her new husband, looking beautiful and happy and Ethan didn’t even have time to try and process all the emotions that were churning inside of him like a tumultuous storm at the fact that Julia was here, because there was a chance she was about to be blown up along with three of the people he cared about, and it was all fucking Walker’s fault.

(And Lane’s, but Walker was the one up on this cliff top with him, and so he was the lucky one who was about to get the full force of Ethan’s anger).

After all the effort and heartache Ethan had gone through to keep Julia safe and out of this life, Walker and Lane had knowingly dragged her back in.

It was something Ethan would never be able to forgive or forget.

Walker pushed himself up from the ground. Ethan could hear the growl of annoyance reverberating around his half-burned face from here. Baring his teeth, Ethan limp-ran towards him. His punched Walker in the face; using the distraction to make a grab for the detonator that was on the ground.

His fingers grazed the key, but Walker yanked him back by the collar of his turtleneck. Ethan choked out a pained gasp; frantically reaching up to loosen the pressure on his throat. Walker elbowed him in the gut, making the ribs Ethan was pretty sure were fractured if not completely broken, throb.

A punch knocked him to the ground again. Ethan groaned as he ended up on his front. Shook his head as the ringing got worse.

He tried to push himself up, but Walker grappled him back to the cold, hard ground. He hissed; loose bits of rock scraping against a sliver of exposed skin on his belly. Walker punched him in the back of the head. Ethan yelled, dazed.

“You’ve been a pain in my fucking ass this whole time,” Walker snarled, climbing on the back of Ethan’s legs, “and now, I’m going to return the favour. And you’re not going to be able to stop me.”

Ethan’s face creased in confusion. He blinked, trying to get bits of dust and rock out of his eyes, wishing that fucking ringing in his ear would just stop. “What—”

Walker shoved his face back into the rock and reached underneath him; tearing open Ethan’s jeans. He yanked the denim down Ethan’s thighs along with his underwear. Ethan quickly worked out what Walker was planning on doing, and tried to buck him off his back. But Walker was heavy, and Ethan hurt. All over. The fear in his heart hurt the most.

Hot breaths were damp against the back of his ear. Walker wiggled on top of him, and Ethan wanted him off him so fucking bad, but he needed a second. He didn’t have the luxury of time, but he needed Walker distracted to be able to get him off him.

He swallowed down the wave of revulsion that threatened to bring up bile, and laid there, heart pounding in his throat.

“You knew you were fucked,” Walker laughed cruelly; the blunt tip of his cock pressing with intent against Ethan’s dry asshole, “but guess you didn’t realise how much, huh. I’ll tell you how much, Agent Hunt. You’re so fucked, you’re going to be fucked, and you’ll be able to watch as your team mates and your friends and your wife – watch as they get blown to smithereens and the world becomes one step closer to the beautiful chaotic order it should be.”

Walker shoved his dick fully inside him then.

Ethan screamed.

His rim was forced to spread around the thick intrusion of Walker’s cock. He could feel the thin ring of muscle tearing as Walker pushed all the way in. Ethan’s fingers scrabbled against the cliff top, and he sucked in a choppy breath – the pain shooting up his spine, one more thing he just needed to get through.

He needed to make it all stop.

The bombs. The pain. Walker.

He didn’t dare think about anything to make it easier to handle though. Knew he’d think about Benji, and like fuck, was he going to sully the sunshine light inside him he felt when he thought about Benji with the ugliness of this.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Walker snickered; moving his hand from the back of Ethan’s head to brace himself as he dragged his dick out of Ethan, only to thrust back in. “When this is over, and everyone you care about is dead – don’t worry, I’ll give you a purpose in life. You can be my personal fuck hole. My bitch.”

Ethan grit his teeth.

Waited until Walker pulled his hips back, and then using all the anger and pain inside of him, he slammed his head backwards right into Walker’s face, bucking his hips at the same time. Walker’s cock popped out of his bleeding hole, and Ethan wasted no time in scrambling to his feet; yanking his boxer briefs and jeans up and rebuttoning them, as he ran in the direction of the detonator.

He yelped as Walker bodyslammed him over the edge of the cliff.

His shoulder almost pulled out of joint as he managed to grasp hold of the rope dangling precariously down over the jagged cliff face. Ethan glanced down. Walker was hanging onto the rope five feet below him.

Inhaling deeply, Ethan jumped from the rope to grab the rocks. Shit, that hurt.

“They’re all gonna die, Ethan,” Walker sing-songed from below him.

Ethan had never hated anyone more in that moment.

He tugged on the rope until it pulled free and started to rapidly fall towards them, and flattened himself against the cliff face. A shameful sort of glee infused his body as he watched the metal hook at the end of the rope imbed itself in Walker’s skull, dragging him down into the depths of the ravine below.

With no time to savour Walker’s demise, Ethan used the last of his energy to climb up the cliff. His hand curled around the detonator, and he tugged the key free with his teeth. He waited a nerve-wracking five seconds, knowing that he'd cut it right down to the wire and it still might have been too late.

When there was no explosion, Ethan sighed in relief.

Dragging himself up the last bit of the cliff, Ethan collapsed onto his side.

It was so cold up here now the adrenaline was starting to recede. So cold. He could barely keep his eyes open. The view was nice though.

Silent.

Everyone going on with their lives, none the wiser as to how close it had all been.

Just as it should be.

And everyone he cared about was still alive.

Luther would snark at him again. Ilsa would have the time to get out of this life. Julia would be able to live a happy life with Erik, her new husband. And Benji—

Ethan would really like to see Benji’s smile again.

Listen to him ramble.

He closed his eyes with a groan; the faint whir of helicopter blades in the air filtering through the still-there ringing in his ear. Everything hurt, he couldn’t tell which pain was which. He so desperately wanted to see them all again, but at the same time, he didn’t want them to see him.

So broken. Damaged. Violated.

The last thought he had before he passed out with a barely-there flicker of a smile on his face, and a tear trickling down his cheek, was that at least Walker was dead. He couldn’t hurt any more people.

Ethan had protected them all.

That was all that mattered.

+

Ethan clenched his jaw; eyes focused on Kittridge sat opposite him. He’d been telling the truth, he wasn’t upset. He was pissed. There was a difference. Kittridge and him have never gotten along – he was slippery like oil, always had been. Playing any and every side trying to come out on top. Kittridge didn’t care about saving the world, he just wanted the power that came with it.

Every time Ethan has had to work with him in some capacity, scrolling all the way back to the shitshow with Jim and the mole hunt in Prague, it had been with severe reluctance on Ethan’s side.

He just doesn’t like him.

No man who was so willing to callously toss people aside, who sought to have possession of the Entity, to become the ruling power of the world, was someone Ethan could trust.

The only thing Ethan could trust Kittridge to do, was piss him off.

“I’m not going to apologise, Hunt,” Kittridge said, seeing no wrong in putting a bounty on Ilsa’s head, of manipulating Ethan to get the key. “It’s my job to use you, just like it’s your job to be of use.”

Ethan had often felt like a machine over the years – missions and orders and pushing his body to the limit to get things done. It was only the sheer volume of emotions bubbling just under the surface that reminded him sometimes, that he was flesh and bone. Human. That he was more than an Agent. He was Ethan.

Kittridge didn’t see him that way though. Or he just didn’t care. Would use Ethan until he was no longer of use or he died, whichever came first. To him Ethan was a loyal dog that could take a beating and still came back every time; mistaking Ethan’s loyalty to the people he loved and his cell-deep need to protect them – and protect those who had no idea just how awful the world could be – for loyalty to the IMF.

Ironically, Kittridge was unable to see that Ethan used the IMF and it’s resources as much as the IMF used him.

Or perhaps he did, but still thought he was going to come out on top. That seemed more likely.

“Did you accomplish your mission or not?”

Ethan held up one half of the cruciform key. “Wherever the other half of this is – whatever the completed key unlocks, I will find it.”

“And then what?”

“No one should be trusted with control of the Entity. I mean to kill it.”

“Ethan,” Kittridge sighed, looking at him like he was naïve, “the next World War isn’t going to be a cold one, it’s going to be a shooting war. It’s going to be a ballistic war over a rapidly shrinking ecosystem. It’s going to be a war for the last of our dwindling energy, drinkable water, breathable air. Whoever controls the entity controls the truth, the concepts of right and wrong that can be clearly defined from, for everyone for centuries to come.”

He looked at the older man; disgust thick in his mouth. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Your days of fighting for the so-called greater are over. You need to pick a side.” It didn’t take a genius to work out which side Kittridge thought was the winning one.

“I’m on the same side I’ve always been on.” He surreptitiously slipped the key back into his trouser pocket, feeling like this verbal game of chess was near the end. The unconscious bodies on the floor weren’t a threat, the knock-out gas he’d used working for a while yet; Ethan was just losing the will to be in the same room with so aggravating a person. “Stay out of my way,” he warned.

“I can’t do that. We’re going to be coming after you. The world’s going to be coming after you. In one way or another this mission of yours is going to cost you dearly.”

Ethan glanced at the image of Ilsa on the screen behind Kittridge and internally sighed in relief that she was safe. For now. That Kittridge had assumed Ilsa was the most important person to him, and had assumed wrong.

“It always does.”

The people he’s lost. The betrayals. The broken bones. The parts of his soul that were forcibly taken from him. The lives he could’ve had if he hadn’t made the choices he did. He’s been in mourning for almost three decades; grieving everything he’s had to give up, leave behind or just permanently say goodbye to because of this life.

And the only reason he didn’t stop; kept going, pushing forward, doing it again and again, is because it had to be worth it. The end result – saving the world – had to be worth the cost Ethan paid, otherwise if it wasn’t—

If he’d made the wrong choices.

He would break and never mend.

Ethan was stuck his own kind of paradox; not wanting to risk the lives of his friends, so putting his own in harms way, but the thought of dying, of making the ultimate sacrifice, of leaving them all unprotected made his heart clench in fear, and so he did his best to stay alive. But the next bullet aimed their way, the next bomb threat, or whatever this Entity was; Ethan was right back here in the thick of it ready to save those he loved because their lives would always be worth more to him than his own.

“Is it worth it, do you think?” Kittridge asked echoing the line of Ethan’s thoughts; mouth twisted in a cruel smirk.

“Yes,” he said. Because he had to believe that.

Kittridge hummed, like he was amused by Ethan’s commitment. “Are you willing for it to cost you a little more?”

Ethan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I meant it when I said the world will be coming after you. Making an already impossible task that much more.” Kittridge leaned forward; elbows braced on his spread legs. “I’m just interested if you would be willing to say…bargain…to allow your precious team more time to get the other half of the key without being impeded by multiple government agencies on your ass.”

He swallowed down the instinctive desire to vomit, because he could tell in his gut that the price might not be anything big, but it would be humiliating. Something that allowed Kittridge power over him, if only temporarily.

Still, Ethan would pay it.

There was no price he wouldn’t pay to keep those he loved safe for that little bit longer. It was his penance for putting them in danger in the first place – their love for him, their loyalty, placing them right in the centre of it all. If he’d had higher walls, if he’d been able to stop himself loving them in the first place—

“I’m listening,” he gritted out.

Kittridge smirked. “On your knees, Hunt. You want that little bit of running space, then you’re going to let me use you, like you’re meant to be used.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared in anger, but he slowly moved from the seat and sunk to his knees. Kittridge stood; unzipping his suit trousers as he walked closer. He palmed Ethan’s skull; rubbing his thumb in teasing little circles, massaging the base through the short strands of Ethan’s hair.

“Open your mouth,” Kittridge ordered.

He clenched his jaw, wanting to resist. Kittridge slapped him across the face.

“I said open your mouth, you filthy, little whore before I decide those two computer nerd friends of yours suddenly have top priority spots on every government most wanted list going.”

Ethan vibrated with anger, but he opened his mouth. Kittridge pulled his cock free; stroking it a few times to bring it to full hardness. Ethan was relieved to find his own cock was soft in between his legs. It wasn’t surprising; there was only one person who got him hard nowadays.

“You even think about biting me, and I’ll pull every one of your teeth out of your pretty mouth one by one with rusty pliers. Got it?”

He didn’t say anything, just made sure his teeth were covered. Kittridge took that as acceptance, and stepped closer; feeding his cock between Ethan’s lips until the tip nudged the back of his throat. Ethan’s hand spasmed on his thigh as he tried to breathe through it. He hadn’t sucked a dick in a while, and Kittridge wasn’t giving him time to get used to the weight on his tongue, the pinching stretch of his jaw.

Kittridge clutched at his hair, and pushed that little bit further into the wet heat of Ethan’s mouth. His throat spasmed as he tried not to choke; nose buried in the grey curls at the base of Kittridge’s dick.

“Yes, this is how you’re meant to be used,” Kittridge murmured; both hands now firmly gripping Ethan’s hair. He pulled back then, until only the flared head of his dick was resting on Ethan’s tongue, and then he slammed back in.

Ethan relaxed his throat and scrunched his eyes closed. Let his mind go blank and just let himself be used. A necessary price to pay, that no one else had to know about. Would just add it to the invisible scars that littered his body and his mind.

Kittridge snapped his hips in a sharp, fast pace; fucking Ethan’s mouth, holding him in place. Tears streamed down his face, and drool spilled from the corners of his mouth to stain his chin. He didn’t need to look at Kittridge’s smug face to know he was enjoying this. Enjoying Ethan debasing himself for him.

Thankfully it didn’t last long.

He felt the warning pulse of Kittridge’s cock on his tongue, and then two thrusts later, bitter salt flooded his mouth. Ethan didn’t swallow; just let it fill his mouth, sitting on his tongue. It took all his effort not to gag.

Kittridge pulled his softening cock free with a sated sigh, and Ethan let his head fall forward. Opened his eyes again giving himself a moment without Kittridge in his field of vision. Anger blazed inside him, though he didn’t let it show.

He spat Kittridge’s semen onto the floor, drops of it landing on the polished black of Kittridge’s shoes, and stood up from the floor. Kittridge looked at him, and Ethan looked back. There was a flicker of fear on the older man’s face.

Good.

“You were willing to pay the price, Ethan,” he reminded. “It’s not my fault if you didn’t like the method of currency.”

Ethan stared at him; face scarily blank. “One day, Kittridge, I’m going to have the unimpeded opportunity to kill you. And, I’m telling you now. When it comes, I won’t hesitate.”

Kittridge gulped. Just then, the phone on the desk rang.

“If I don’t get that, we’re going to have company real soon.”

Ethan could fight whoever they sent to deal with him, but if he was being honest he just wanted to get the hell away from here. He jerked out a nod and Kittridge moved to the desk and answered the call. While Kittridge’s back was to him, Ethan got ready for his escape; pulling on the mask of Kittridge he’d made earlier for this very reason.

The phone call ended and Kittridge turned around. “Just how to do you plan on getting out of here…”

Ethan finished tucking the edge of the mask under his shirt collar and quirked his head.

“Of course,” Kittridge said, resigned; staring at his own face.

Ethan held up a gun and pointed it at Kittridge’s chest. Pulled the trigger. The tranquiliser dart made impact with a dull thud.

Kittridge fell to the floor a second later, unconscious.

Palming the gun, Ethan exited the room, desperate to get back to Luther and Benji. Had no doubt that there would be a team of agents coming after them as soon as Kittridge was awake.

He didn’t trust Kittridge to keep his word.

Kittridge would soon find out though, that Ethan was a man of his.

+

“It’s been a long time, Ethan.”

Gabriel tipped his head in greeting; the pulsing thump of the club’s loud music beating all around them. He looked the same as he had all those years ago, but older. The ugly malice inside him easier to see now.

Now that Ethan wasn’t too blinded by his feelings to see it.

“Slow down, Ethan!” He heard Gabriel’s exasperated voice behind him. “You’re always running.”

Ethan slowed down enough for the other boy to catch up. He was seventeen, Gabriel was nineteen. He was Ethan’s best friend, and Ethan was pretty sure he was in love with him.

“S’not my fault you have the running speed of a tortoise.”

“Right, you fucker—” Gabriel charged into him, and they fell to the grass with wild laughter. Fingers tickled his sides, and Ethan writhed under Gabriel’s heavier weight. He was taller and bigger than Ethan. Pressing down on him now, Ethan realised how much he liked that.

He let out an Oof as Gabriel grabbed his hands and pinned them over his head.  “Not running now are you?”

Ethan squirmed, trying to break free. Gabriel squeezed his wrists, just a little, and Ethan stopped fighting. Huffed out a breath. “Let me up, Gabe,” he whined; hating staying still.

Gabriel quirked his head like a bird, and grinned. “No, I don’t think I will.” He rocked his hips then, and Ethan flushed beet red at the realisation he was hard. Gabriel was too, but that was less embarrassing.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Gabriel cooed; nosing at the line of Ethan’s jaw. “And it’s okay to be hard, Ethan. I am too. Or can’t you feel it?”

He grounded down against Ethan’s erection again, and Ethan couldn’t stop himself shivering all over. “I- I can. I just…” he bit his lip, nervous. “You’re not mad?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. Shall I show you how not-mad I am?”

Ethan tentatively nodded. The sun was beaming down on them from above, and as Gabriel stared down at him, Ethan thought he looked so handsome. His dark eyes glittered like amber and he wanted to kiss the smile on his lips.

“Good boy.” Gabriel kissed the gasp from his slack mouth; cupping Ethan’s face as he fed him his tongue. Ethan whimpered as he felt Gabriel rolls his hips; their cocks rubbing together through their trousers. The friction felt so good – different than his hand, but good. “That’s it, Ethan. Let me make you feel good.”

Ethan clutched at Gabriel’s shoulders; tipping his chin up, silently begging for more kisses. Gabriel huffed out a soft laugh, but indulged him. All Ethan could feel and smell was Gabriel, and he felt dizzy with it.

The undulation of their hips had him panting and moaning against Gabriel’s mouth; cocks dragging against each other through frustrating layers of clothing. His balls throbbed with the need to come.

He couldn’t hold back.

Ethan mewled as he spilled his release into his briefs; the cotton soaking immediately to stick to his flushed, blood-swollen length.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Gabriel growled; pushing Ethan deeper into the grassy ground. Started humping him like a rutting dog, until his hips stopped and he groaned against Ethan’s ear. He felt the wet heat of Gabriel’s cum through their clothes, and hiccupped out a hysterical laugh.

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that with his best friend.

“You don’t need to keep running anymore,” Gabriel murmured, and kissed him again before Ethan could respond. Any words he’d had on the tip of his tongue, swallowed down by Gabriel’s lips on his.

Gabriel had been wrong. Ethan had needed to run in the end. Not at first, no. First he allowed himself to be pulled in deeper; let Gabriel be his first—first blowjob, first fingers pressing inside him, first cock splitting him wide.

Ethan had been infatuated with the older boy. Lighting up whenever Gabriel spent time with him. He’d thought he was so in love with him, he’d die without him. He hadn’t known then what true love was.

They’d met Maria one day when Ethan had been nineteen. She was so beautiful, always smiling. At first Ethan had been worried that she might take Gabriel away from him, but Gabriel just treated her like he did his other friends. Not like how he treated Ethan. That was special. Once he realised that, Ethan relaxed more. Allowed Maria into his life more.

They became a tight knit group.

Even when they all went to different colleges, Ethan was still blinded to who Gabriel was under the surface. He’d known, deep inside that Gabriel must have been with other people when they were apart, and he always meant to confront him about it, but Gabriel would smile at him in that way that he did, and Ethan would forget why he was prickly with him in the first place.

He hadn’t realised until it was too late, until he was twenty seven and he spent more time apart from Gabriel than he did with him, that all the time he had spent with him was like second-hand smoke, causing unseen damage. Ethan had had no idea what Gabriel had been doing to him – how blind he’d been – until they all met up again and Ethan hadn’t recognised the man in front of him.

And by then it had been too late to run.

“What are you doing, Gabe?” he shouted; frantically looking between Gabriel who was holding a gun straight out in front him, and Maria who was the target. “Put the fucking gun down! That’s Maria, you know it is. What the fuck is going on?”

“You’re so blind, Ethan, you have no idea how the world works.” Gabriel threw him a pitying smile, and he didn’t understand why Maria was just standing there. She should run away. Try and get free. “You think the world is a perfect balance of give and take. It’s not. There are always those that take more than they give. Maria is one of those.”

“What the hell are you on about, Gabe? She’s done nothing wrong. She’s our friend!”

“You can believe what you want, Ethan, but I know what she’s done. I caught her red-handed. She’s handed over my secrets to my enemies.” Ethan blinked in confusion; had no idea what enemies Gabriel even had. Gabriel barked out a harsh laugh. “And the hilarious thing is she did it all because she wanted to save you from me. Because she’s in love with you.”

Ethan looked at Maria in shock. She didn’t deny it.

“Ironic really that you didn’t even know how she felt. That you were so in love with me you would’ve done anything I asked. That if she’d tried to get you away, you would’ve had no idea what you needed saving from.”

He swallowed thickly; tears clumping his lashes. Gabriel still had the gun pointed at Maria. She was ten feet in front of them, and the distance suddenly felt impossibly wide.

“How fast do you think you can run, Ethan? Can you save her in time?”

It took a second for the words to sink in, and then he ran with everything he had. There was a bang of a shot being fired, and Ethan’s heart thundered in his chest.

He caught Maria in his arms a second too late.

Crimson spilled over her chest like red ink, as they sunk to the floor together. Ethan roared out a sob; betrayal and anger and heartbreak singing in his veins. He glared accusingly at Gabriel who still held the gun aimed their way.

“How could you?” he croaked; mind racing as he tried to work out where everything had gone wrong.

“I did what I needed to do, Ethan. Soon you’ll understand that.”

They stared at each other; Maria’s body getting colder and colder in Ethan’s arms, as Gabriel decided whether or not to shoot Ethan too. Eventually Gabriel tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and turned and walked away. The red and blue flash of sirens arrived a minute later, and after that his whole life changed.

Ethan worked his jaw; hands clenching into fists by his side as he looked at Gabriel. He’d thought he was dead. He was meant to be dead. Ethan had sneakily looked up anything to do with him when he’d joined the IMF, but there had been nothing. He’d spent the last three decades praying that Gabriel had faced the consequences for what he’d done. But apparently not.

He was here, in front of him, and smirking like it all amused him.

Ethan had never been so relieved to know that he felt nothing for him other than the strong urge to pummel his face into the ground.

Gabriel had made a mistake in keeping Ethan alive back then, in showing himself now. Because Ethan wasn’t going to rest until Gabriel was dead and the Entity was destroyed. It didn’t matter that Ethan used to love him; that naïve, innocent version of himself had withered away a long time ago (maybe the bastard could be smug at killing a part of him after all). He knew the difference now – what was real love and what was just manipulation and sweet nothings disguised as such.

Yes, Gabriel had made a mistake, and it was going to cost him. Dearly.

“You should have killed me when you had a chance,” Ethan said, having no qualms about doing what he needed to do to make the world safe. He wouldn’t hesitate to snap Gabriel’s neck or shoot him until he bled out. Gabriel’s eyes flashed as he recognised the implied threat; a strange mix of pride and fear swirling in their dark depths.

Gabriel had confirmation now that Ethan understood what he’d told him all those years ago, had learned in the dark, cobbled streets of Prague and in every decision that came after. Gabriel no doubt expected his gratitude. Ethan knew better.

He wasn’t going to get Ethan’s thanks. He was going to wish he hadn’t been the one to teach him the lesson in the first place though.

+

A soft knock interrupted Ethan’s thoughts. “Go to sleep, Benji.”

He couldn’t handle seeing Benji’s beautiful face right now. Knew Benji would look at him with that soft look he had that Ethan had worked out over the years was just for him, and he felt so brittle right then, that if Benji so much as touched him right then, he’d shatter into a billion pieces.

Ilsa was dead.

And it was because of him. Because he hadn’t dealt with Gabriel when he should have. Because he hadn’t been able to run fast enough, again. And because Ilsa loved him in the way that she knew how to love, and even when he told her to run, she’d fucking stayed; fighting Gabriel to give Grace a chance at living.

He may not have let himself fall in love with her – too busy being in love with Benji, though he wasn’t talking about that, out loud anyway – but he still loved her. Not just for how she was the other side of his coin, but just because of who she was. Someone he could trust, who had his back, who hadn’t let this life kill every bit of hope inside her.

But in the end, she would rather have died saving someone Ethan worried about, than run and live a free life alone. Something Ethan knew about all too well; having spent his whole life since joining the IMF doing exactly that, but going one step further and actually dying.

And now she wasn’t coming back.

Was never going to needle him in that way she did; making him smile just with an arch of her well-manicured brow.

If he ever saw her again in the afterlife, he was going to kick her ass for leaving him. Goddamn her.

“Um. It’s not Benji.”

Ethan frowned; turning towards the door. “Grace?”

“Ah, yes.” A pause. She cleared her throat, and then he heard her knock again. “Fuck,” she hissed to herself. “Don’t knock again, you idiot.” A small smile flitted across his face.

“Are you okay, Grace?”

“No. I mean yes. I just – can I come in?”

Ethan pushed himself up from the safe house bed, and opened the door silently. “You should sleep, while you can.”

There was a few hours until they had to get on that train and stop Alanna from selling the key to the highest bidder (a gut feeling had Ethan thinking it was going to be someone he was intimately familiar with); they would all need to sleep.

Ethan hadn’t even bothered to try.

“I can’t. I mean, I tried – for about five minutes. But…” she wet her lips. “Can I please come in? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He stepped back in silent invitation.

“Thanks.”

Ethan wandered back to the bed, and sat down with a heavy sigh; scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Grace.”

She made a wounded sort of noise in the back of throat. “Are you being serious? Oh, Jesus, you are. For fuck’s sake, Ethan, I made my own choices. And you tried to warn me. I just didn’t listen. So no. You don’t need to apologise.” She exhaled, carding her fingers through her long, dark hair. “I do though. I’m sorry, Ethan. For….” She sat down next to him; a sad curve to her shoulders. “For everything, I guess. But especially for what happened to Ilsa.”

His throat clicked as he swallowed. He twined their fingers together. He could feel her trembling. “Grace, what happened to Ilsa wasn’t your fault.”

She barked out a watery laugh. “I mean, I hate to argue with a guy who’s in mourning, but I think it is. She came there to save me, because I might be a pickpocket, but I can’t really fight for shit. And now she’s dead. So yeah. My fault.”

Ethan reached over and curled a lock of hair around Grace’s ear. “No one could get Ilsa to do anything she didn’t want to do, Grace. Trust me, I’d know. She chose to be there on that bridge and fight Gabriel and no matter how much that….hurts…we can’t take that away from her.”

Grace swiped a hand under her eyes. “God, sorry, I don’t tend to cry much, but it’s just—your generosity baffles me, Ethan. You baffle me. I don’t understand you.”

“I get that a lot.”

She hummed; giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? I am sorry though. For your loss. You seemed to love her very much.”

“I did. I do. Not romantically but…we understood each other. And I’m going to miss her so much.” Ethan sniffed; shuddering out a strained breath. “Fuck, you’d think I’d be used to losing people now.”

“I don’t think that’s something you get used to, Ethan.”

“No, I guess not.”

He turned his face towards her, and she was so close. He could see the sincerity of her sympathy in her eyes, and he felt himself break just a little. He wished it was Benji here with him though. She cupped his cheek and leaned in. Their lips brushed against each other, and his hand spasmed on the dip of her waist.

“Grace…”

“Please let me make you feel better.”

Memories of the aftermath of Prague flickered through his mind like a carousel, and Ethan remembered coming onto Luther, trying to replace the pain he felt with something that hurt less. How he’d almost ruined his friendship with him by being stupid.

How fucking young he’d been.

How despite everything that had happened with Gabriel before, he’d still trusted Jim and Claire, and they’d betrayed him anyway.

How he’d trusted Luther to have his back, and he’d never regretted it.

Grace kissed him again, and Ethan let her for just a moment; feeling her soft lips press against his own, before he gently pulled back. Cradled her face in his hands. “Grace,” he said softly, “you’re a beautiful, smart, competent woman, who I have a lot of respect for – your pickpocketing skills especially.” She shrugged bashfully. “But I can’t – we can’t have sex. It will only soothe the pain momentarily and then it’ll just come back. It always does. Trust me, it won’t help.”

“It might help.”

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh; he admired her spirit. “It won’t. I’ve…let’s just say I’ve had my share of sexual encounters of all kind, and I know this wouldn’t help.” He smiled at her ruefully. “Plus, only one person makes me hard nowadays, so we wouldn’t be able to fuck even if I wanted to.”

“Oh. Right.” She nodded, and he dropped his hands. “Is it Benji?” Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. Grace winced. “Sorry, was I not supposed to guess? I just…you light up when you look at him, Ethan. It was hard not to notice.”

“No, you’re right, I just…” He shrugged helplessly. His love for Benji had been a constant companion for almost two decades at this point. Changing over the years as their friendship became deeper, and he moved on from Julia. But he’d never spoken to Benji about it; fearing that if he did, he might ruin what they had and lose the person he adored most in the world.

“Ah. I see. Well, it’s your life, and obviously you live a rather complicated one,” she gestured around them as if to demonstrate, “but if you’re worried about his feelings for you, well, from what I can see, he feels the same way.”

“I—how do you know?”

“You’re not the only one who lights up, Ethan.”

He swallowed thickly and gave her a grateful nod. Grace stood up.

“I should go. Leave you to mourn Ilsa alone before we have to go do stupid spy shit on a moving train.”

She leaned over and kissed the crown of his head, and moved to walk away. Ethan grabbed her wrist. Grace looked  back at him.

“Can you just…hold me? Please? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

She nodded and they both stretched out on the bed; Grace curled around his back; arm draped over his belly. Her heat seeped into him through his creased white shirt, and Ethan exhaled shakily.

Usually he would turn them, put his back between her and the rest of the world, but he was too tired. Too weighed down with grief. And also, even if he knew Benji wouldn’t come to his room, because he saw through Ethan way too easily and had heard the brittleness of his voice when he’d told them all earlier he was going to try and rest, Ethan still wanted to face the direction he knew Benji was.

He was his north star, keeping him on course.

Ethan closed his eyes and let Grace hold him, and even though the urge to cry burned in his chest, he didn’t let the tears fall.

There would be time for that later.

Hopefully.

+

“You sure this is a good idea, Ethan?”

Ethan looked over at one of the newest members of the team, and offered Paris a grimacing smile. “I’ll find out once I’m in there, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s not really comforting, man,” Degas drawled.

Ethan snorted out a laugh, even though now wasn’t really the time. He was about to face the Entity in it’s most corporeal form yet. No doubt it was some kind of trap designed to mess him up; fuck his mind in lieu of his body. But they had no other choice.

It needed to be done.

“Welcome to the team,” Benji chimed in; voice a higher pitch than normal, a sign he was worried about Ethan and would be telling him off about it later, “where all the plans are insane.”

“I’ll be fine guys. I have you all watching my back.”

Various noises of incredulity fill the cavernous dwelling they were in, and Ethan grinned. He’d prefer them annoyed and pissed at him than worried right now.

“You better come back out of that box, Ethan,” Grace warned; wagging her finger at him, “I swear to god.”

“I will. I promise.” He looked at all of them in turn. “I promise, I will.”

Only when did they all nod in acceptance, did Ethan climb into the large box; laying down in the body-shaped mould inside. The lid closed; surrounding him darkness.  He yelped in shock when cuffs snapped into place around his wrists and ankles, binding him in place. A mask covered his face a moment later, and his eyes were forced wide as it slotted into place.

A pulsing blue eye – the Entity – stared deep into his mind.

I know what you want, it said; its usual churning, grinding noises somehow making sense now they were connected. I know everything about you Ethan Hunt.

Hundreds of images flashed in front of his eyes then; some real, some manipulated to serve a different purpose from reality, but most just completely fabricated.

Him and Julia—in Lake Wanaka, at a party, fucking on a secluded beach, her heavily pregnant with Ethan hugging her from behind, hands splayed over her bump.

Him and Ilsa—kissing, sitting in a tucked away café in Italy brushing ankles under the table, passionately fucking up against a wall in a dark alley the stars glittering above them, a wedding ring on Ilsa’s hand.

Him and Grace—holding hands with their wrists cuffed together, hugging each other tightly, her riding him on a bed, a small curve to her stomach.

The Entity believed what Ethan wanted was a normal life, with one of these women—one of whom was married to someone else, one who was dead, and one who was only a friend—for them to get married and start a family.

He’d laugh at the absurdity of it, if it wasn’t so cruel.

If part of it hadn’t been something he had wanted at one point in time. Any part of the barrage of images the Entity fired at him that had some semblance of truth to it, was aimed at an Ethan that didn’t exist anymore.

The lack of Benji in amongst the collage was telling.

As was the lack of Gabriel.

Not that he wanted Gabriel, but considering he was the Entity’s main human lacky, it was interesting that it didn’t seem to know about their past together. Not even a hint that Ethan might want a future with a man.

Or maybe it was all a joke to the Entity, the joke was Ethan having a future at all.

I know what you want, the Entity echoed in his mind. I can also take it away.

The images changed then; love and laughter turning into fire and blood. Ethan could only lay there and watch; his mind flooded images of Julia, Ilsa and Grace dead in various ways. Luther, Benji, Will, Jane and even Paris included now; no doubt on Gabriel's shit list for switching sides even though the bastard had been the one to leave her to die. Blown up, chopped into pieces, poisoned, hanged, shot and left to bleed out, gassed, burned alive. All of them dead in so many ways.

It was awful. Terrible. Sickening.

It was everything Ethan feared would come to pass.

And it wasn’t just them. Whole countries laid to waste; men, women, children, everything dead. A silence filled in only by a frightening reality that wasn’t made from anything naturally found in the arms of Mother Earth.

It took him a second to realise he was screaming.

The images stopped. His own face stared back at him. Just him. The Entity’s last future for him, one of him all alone.

His chest felt tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe; that future the exact one he’d been terrified of coming into being his whole life. Swallowing down his fear, Ethan fought back.

“It’s not real. None of it is real.”

It could be. I could give you everything you ever wanted. I could make it all real for you.

“You don’t know what real is,” Ethan gritted out. “Real is love and pain and it’s human. It’s not created by a computer. Real is something you will never understand.”

The Entity pulsed in anger, and Ethan yelled as shrill ringing noise filled his ears. The images started up again, only this time there were none of the happy ones.

He quickly became overwhelmed and started screaming again; his brain feeling like it was going to explode.

Suddenly, it stopped.

The mask was pulled from his face, and he blinked rapidly as his eyes refocused. “Benji?” he rasped; seeing the man he loved staring down at him. The others uncuffed his wrists and ankles. Ethan sat up with a groan.

“Are you alright, Ethan?” Grace asked; a furrow in between her brows.

“Yeah, I—I’m fine.”

“What did it show you?” Degas asked.

Ethan shook his head. “Nothing. Just a bunch of made up futures created to terrify me. It was…nothing.”

“You were screaming,” Benji pointed out, sounding painfully worried.

He shrugged. Didn’t want to go into detail about what he’d seen. It was all lies anyway. In most ways, the truth was even more painful than anything the Entity could come up with.

“Did it help?” Paris asked quietly. “Do you know how to stop it? How to stop the Entity?”

Ethan sighed; carding a shaky hand through his hair. Just because it wasn’t real, didn’t mean it still hadn’t struck a nerve. “I just know if we do it together, somehow we’ll win. The Entity thinks it can destroy the world, but it doesn’t truly understand what makes us human. What it means to love someone.” He tried and failed not to look at Benji then. “We’ll defeat it.”

None of them say anything, but none of them left either. They were with him until the end and knowing he’s not alone in that moment meant everything to him.

Benji wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulder and let him lean into him for a moment while he got his bearings, and Ethan allowed himself a minute of feeling Benji’s body press against his own.

He didn’t know if they’d win, if they’d all make it out of this mission alive, but they had to try.

For the people in his life, he would try.

For Benji.

Because Ethan wanted to be able to look at the man he was in love with without fear that it could be their last moment together at any second.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” he said, coughing to clear his throat as he reluctantly pulled himself from Benji’s embrace.

Thankfully none of the team commented on his red-rimmed eyes or the tear tracks on his cheeks.

+

After saving the world again, (though this time felt more…just more), everything else just felt like a quiet whimper rather than a loud bang. Which is why, when Ethan officially retired – leaving the IMF permanently – he didn’t tell anyone.

And by anyone, he meant his team.

And Benji.

He planned to tell them, obviously, but tomorrow. Once he’d slept and he was a little more sure they wouldn’t be disappointed in him for quitting. It was just—

Ethan couldn’t do it anymore.

He was so tired, and fighting the Entity had taken more out of him than he could’ve ever imagined. He was sixty-two years old, but now, he felt older. His joints ached, and his whole body just felt like one, big, walking bruise. He’d been part of the IMF for over thirty years, and he just couldn’t do it any longer. He felt like a hollowed out, mushy Jack-o-lantern; insides scooped out and let to rot on the front porch, forgotten in the darkness.

And facing the Entity had made it clear to him that he didn’t want to die either, because despite all the countries he’d been too, and the people he’d met, and fucked and killed, Ethan had barely lived.

He’d been a cog in a machine, and he didn’t want to be that anymore.

He just wanted the chance to be Ethan, not Agent Hunt.

But he just hadn’t worked out how to tell the others that yet. Which is why he was here, in his house that he might now have time to make a home, hiding.

Ethan had come straight here from his last debrief and his meeting with the President – the rest of the team already having been given permission to leave – and a stop by HR to fill in the necessary retirement paperwork, and he’d turned on the shower, stripped out of his clothes, sat under the hot stream of water and just cried.

Until his throat felt raw, but his chest felt lighter.

After a few more minutes of sitting there; the jets of water pummelling down on him, making his hair stick to his forehead, Ethan pushed himself to his feet and took his time washing his hair, letting the shampoo wash away the dirt and sweat and sadness that clung to limp strands. Ethan lathered his body with the pineapple bodywash he’d bought on a whim months ago and had yet the time to use; allowing the conditioner in his hair time to work.

He thought about jerking off, but his dick wasn’t interested. Just hung there soft and tucked inside his foreskin nestled on the pouch of his balls. His fingers combed through the thatch of hair that trailed from his navel down to his groin; idly noticed a few grey hairs among the dark. Part of him was looking forward to there being more grey hairs, if only because he never thought he’d live long enough to get this old in the first place.

As the suds sluiced down over his body, Ethan tipped his head back and massaged the conditioner from his hair; sighing out a tired groan. Once he was done; Ethan turned off the water and stepped out the shower; wrapping a towel around his waist.

His tread was quiet as he padded into his bedroom; slipping on a worn-soft blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Rubbing the towel over his hair, Ethan wandered back into the bathroom to hang up the towel and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Lines and wrinkles marred his face, and Ethan turned away from the man staring back at him; unsure at what point the young kid who’d made The Choice had become so lost.

Going downstairs, Ethan thought about putting on a movie or something, when the doorbell rang. Frowning, because he wasn’t expecting anyone, Ethan answered it.

“Benji?” he blinked in shock, seeing the other man stood on his doorstep. Benji was wearing a t-shirt with Spock and Kirk making out on, a dark-green zip hoodie thrown on top, and a pair of jeans. Ethan trailed his eyes up and down; smiling softly when he caught sight of the converse on his feet. “W-What are you doing here?”

“You’re here,” he said, like that explained everything. Ethan stepped back in a daze, and Benji brushed past him, patting him on the cheek with a grin. “You look good, man.”

“Do I?”

Benji hummed; wandering into the living room. Ethan followed, unsure what was happening. “Yeah, course you do. Like, you look tired, but that’s to be expected – surprised you’re not out cold to be honest. I thought about it, but I’m too wired, y’know?” Ethan jerked out a faint nod. “Is that pineapples I can smell, by the way?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s my body wash.”

Benji grinned at him; flumping down on Ethan’s couch. “I love pineapples.”

Ridiculously Ethan felt his cheeks heat up. Benji patted the seat next to him and Ethan tentatively sat down. Ethan swallowed a couple of times; resting his elbows on his knees. “Not that it’s not nice to see you, Benji, because it is, but, why are you here? I thought you’d be at home, trying to relax after…everything.”

“Ah, you see, I had planned on it, but then I had a notification ping up about something important, and now I’m here.”

Ethan twisted his neck to look at the man who had stayed by his side for nearly twenty years, and he suddenly felt like he might cry again. “What…what was the notification about?”

“You retiring.”

Fuck.

“Y-You know?”

Benji snorted out a laugh; hand coming to rest on Ethan’s shoulder. The touch made him shiver. “Yeah, mate, I know. You weren’t going to tell me?” He sounded hurt at the implication.

“What? No, I was. Just—” he shrugged sheepishly; not enough to shift Benji’s hand from his shoulder though. “Tomorrow.”

“Right, fair enough. I set up an alert so that if you ever actually retired from the IMF I’d know straight away.”

“Why?”

Benji looked at him like Ethan was being dumb. Which he might be, but he was too tired to work out why. “Um, so I could retire too, you idiot!”

Oh.

“But you don’t—you don’t have to retire with me, Benji. You could still be an Agent. I just…” he carded his fingers through his hair; wetting his lips. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What the hell are you sorry for?” Benji grasped Ethan’s face in his hands and stared intently into his eyes. “Oh, shit. Right. Of course. Of course you think we’d be disappointed for you for deciding to actually have a life outside of the IMF. Oh, Ethan.”

His mouth pulled down in a shrug, because he couldn’t deny it.

“Right, well, get that stupid thought out of that pretty head of yours right now – none of us are disappointed in you, alright? We’ll all be happy for you. Luther actually fucking cheered out loud when I told him, said it was ‘about fucking time’ in that cool ass, deep voice of his. Yes, before you ask, I told Luther, because I figured he deserved to know too – if only so he could put in for his retirement too. He’s been very cranky recently about not getting to go on that sail boat of his.”

Benji let go of Ethan’s face for a moment to push his glasses up from where they’d been slipping down the bridge of his nose, and Ethan couldn’t look away from his gorgeous face. “Anyway,  do you remember when I said we could share a cell together when you called me from Shang Hai, or when I didn’t hesitate to pick up that phone in Seattle to be part of your team. Do you remember when I told you that you were my friend, that you needed my help and I was staying with you, and that was all we were going to say about that?”

Ethan nodded softly. “Of course I do. I remember everything.”

“God, you make it so difficult when you say stuff like that,” Benji groaned; resting their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing.

“Make what difficult?”

“In a minute. What I’m trying to say, Ethan, is that there’s no place you go that I won’t follow. Whether on a mission or into retirement. I don’t want to be one anyone else’s team, and I don’t want to be part of the IMF without you. And I’m not being funny, but retirement is the least scary plan compared to all the hell we’ve fucking been through over the years, so yeah…I’m looking forward to it.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed past the emotion clogging his throat. He tentatively cupped Benji’s face in his hands; the rasp of stubble tickling his palms. “I don’t deserve you, Benji Dunn. Any of you, really. But you especially.”

“Again, not for you to decide. You’re stuck with us until the end, my friend.”

“Good.” Ethan huffed out a watery laugh. “I love you, Benji.”

“I love you too.”

He needed Benji to understand that he meant it with his whole heart. That he was no longer keeping his feelings under lock and key, because if he didn’t save the world so he could tell the man he loved how he felt, then what was the fucking point?

(apart from saving humanity, but still).

“No, I mean I’m in love with you. Have been for years.”

Benji looked at him so softly; pure adoration swirling in his blue-grey eyes. “I know.”

“Now isn’t the time for a Star Wars reference, Benji.”

“There’s always time for a Star Wars reference. Also it makes my heart so happy knowing you know that. Anyway,” Benji shook his head; a beaming smile on his face. “I’m in love with you too. I don’t remember what it was like not to be.”

A tear spilled down his cheek and Benji thumbed it away. “Can you kiss me now?” he whispered. “Please?”

“Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

Ethan made a strangled sort of moan at the pet name, because he really liked Benji calling him that (much more than he thought he would), and Benji eagerly kissed the moan from his lips. Ethan leaned into the cradle of Benji’s hands; opening up to the lick of Benji’s tongue. The wet slide of their tongues made arousal curl in his gut, and Ethan shifted closer; trying to get as close to Benji as possible.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Benji crooned; kissing the corner of his mouth, his chin, the tip of his nose. “I got you, baby.”

“You’ve always got me,” he rasped; feeling raw and exposed, but wanting so much more.

Benji curled his hands around Ethan’s waist and lifted him up; settling him on his lap. Ethan’s dick plumped up between his thighs at the show of strength. He skimmed his hands over the dips and curves of Ethan’s flank, down to the generous handfuls of his ass.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to grab and touch this incredible ass of yours?”

“I’m guessing for a while,” Ethan drawled; a light, airing feeling bubbling in his chest. It reminded him of how he felt when he was with Julia, but more. It took him a second to realise it was happiness. Because he didn’t have to hide any part of who he was from Benji. Benji knew who he was, what he’d done, and he loved him anyway.

“Uh, duh. Of course it’s been a while. Like from the moment I first saw you. Your ass is the only good part about you walking away.”

Ethan toyed with the short hair at Benji’s nape; stroking the warm skin he found under the collar of his hoodie. “Well, you have me now. Literally in the palm of your hand. So, Benjamin Dunn, what do you plan to do with me?”

Benji inhaled deeply, and then let out a shaky breath. “Oh god, this is actually happening, isn’t it?”

“…Unless you don’t want it to?”

“Pfft, I ever say no to wanting you, I’ve been replaced by a pod person, and you need to shoot me, okay?”

Ethan chuckled, nodding. “Okay, sure, Sweetheart. I’ll remember that. You haven’t answered my question though.”

Benji licked his lips; hands massaging Ethan’s ass cheeks like he couldn’t help himself. “What was the question again? Sorry, I got distracted by how good you feel sat on my lap.”

“What are you going to do with me, Benji? Because I’m hard—” he trailed his fingers down over Benji’s chest and quivering belly, to stroke the hard length of his trapped erection. “—and you’re hard, so….?”

“Um.” Benji gulped, and his eyes were so dark with hunger, Ethan felt breathless with want just looking at him. “Bedroom?”

Ethan climbed off Benji’s lap, not before kissing him again though, and then led him upstairs. Their hands slotted together so perfectly, Ethan couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t feel tired anymore, he felt alive. And it was all because of Benji.

“I love you, Benji Dunn,” he said; turning on the spot as he walked so he could look at him while walking backwards. “So much.”

“You keep telling me that, and I’m gonna ravish you right here in the hallway, and that won’t do anything for either of our backs.” He turned Ethan back around and gently nudged him in the direction of the bedroom. “Now get in there and strip. I’m going to show you how much I love you, Ethan Hunt.”

“Okay.” Ethan felt so happy he could burst. Entering the bedroom, Ethan pulled his t-shirt over his head, chucking it on the floor. Pushed his sweatpants off his hips and stepped out of them. Benji whined behind him. “Benji?” he looked at him over his shoulder; frowning in concern. “You alright?”

“What? Oh yeah, I just—” Benji cleared his throat; hand clutching the front of his t-shirt. “Fuck, Ethan, you’re like a work of art, baby.”

“Oh.” Ethan laid on his back on the bed; hands resting on his belly. “You really think so? I’m not too old? Too weathered?”

“What?! No—why would you think—”

“I’m sixty two, Benji. I’m covered in scars. I’m soft where I used to be all muscle. I’m not exactly in my prime…”

Benji huffed through his nose and pointed at him, as if silently telling him to wait. He then wiggled out of his clothes like they personally offended him; growling in frustration as the laces of his Converse didn’t unpick as quickly as he wanted, before cheering in victory when he could kick them off. Once he was naked he jumped on the bed; pouncing on Ethan, leaning in until their faces where barely an inch apart.

“Ethan Matthew Hunt, you listen to me right now, okay?” Ethan nodded; heart pounding in his chest. “You will never be anything to me other than the most beautiful person in the whole world. You are not old, you’re incredible. You’re not weathered; you’ve just lived a life others can barely imagine. Yes, you’re sixty two, but I’m fifty five. Age is just a number, baby. You have scars, so what? We all do. And I know you have more than most people, and a lot of yours are invisible to the naked eye, but none of that matters, because I love you and all of your scars and baggage. And – and – and—” he palmed Ethan’s chest, cupping the slightly sagging swell of his tit; other hand rubbing his soft belly, “you might not be all compact muscle anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still find you ridiculously attractive. I love your soft parts, because this body has kept you safe – allowed you to keep me, the team, the world safe – for sixty two years, and it will never not be beautiful to me. So, no, you might not be in your prime, but that’s only because you’re in a league of your own instead. No one can match you, baby. There’s only one Ethan Hunt, and he’s my favourite person in the world. The best. He’s the man I love beyond measure, and that’s you, peaches. You are the love of my life, and I’ve waited almost twenty years to rock your world, so are you going to let me?”

Ethan was so turned on; his dick was leaking all over his belly. “Yes.  Yes. Yes, you can do whatever you want to me, Benji. Though we’ll have to agree to disagree on one thing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He smoothed the flat of his hand up the meat of Benji’s thigh; feeling the muscle bunch and flex under his palm. He was going to kiss every one of Benji’s freckles one day, until his lips felt bruised, and even then he wasn’t going to stop. “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world.”

“Oh come on!” Benji growled incredulously, pulling his glasses off and chucking them on the side before he smashed their lips together; kissing him fiercely. Ethan wrapped his arms around him; pulling him down on top of him. Their cocks rubbed together, and Ethan rolled his hips, chasing the friction.

“I meant it,” Ethan murmured; tilting his head to the side so Benji could suck bruising kisses down the length of his neck. “You can do whatever you want to me, Sweetheart. I trust you.”

Benji shivered; hiccupping out a laugh, teeth scraping against his collarbone. “You make me insane, baby.”

He captured Ethan’s mouth in a sweet, slow kiss and then nuzzled his way down the length of his torso; peppering kisses over the hollow of his throat, his tits. Suckled on the dusky nubs of his nipples until they were stiff peaks on his tongue; spit-shiny and aching. Nosed over the bumps of his rib cage, down, down to swirl his tongue around the divot of his navel.

Ethan could only lay there trembling, overwhelmed.

“Don’t you want me to do something?” he asked. “Like, I could suck your dick or something?”

“No,” Benji shook his head. “I mean, obviously yes, you can suck my dick, Ethan. But not now. Right now, I am giving you all the love you deserve, and I’m going to make you come on my cock so hard you see stars, alright?” He started sucking marks into the flat of Ethan’s belly then, licking up the dribbles of precum pooling on his skin; slinking down to settle in between his thighs.

Ethan chewed on his lip nervously; feeling so sensitive, but not wanting Benji’s mouth to stop. “I haven’t – it’s been a while since I’ve bottomed,” he confessed.

Benji flicked his gaze up at him. “Ilsa?”

“Oh god, you really did see us.” Ethan threw his arm over his face with a groan. “She said you did, but you never mentioned anything and I thought maybe she’d just been messing with me.”

“Ah,” Benji chuckled. “No, not messing with you. I did see you, I just never mentioned it, because I didn’t really know how to bring it up to my Team Leader, and the man who I was head over heels for, that I watched him get pegged by his female counterpart.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan moved his arm; fingers coming to rest on the soft fuzz of Benji’s hair. “Exactly how much of it did you see, out of interest?”

Benji’s cheeks flushed red. “More than I should of. I had intended to walk away, I swear, but you were there on all fours, and I could see your incredible ass in all it’s glory, and god, you took Ilsa’s cock so fucking well, I ended up staying until you were coming all over the bedsheets. It was hot, what can I say?”

Ethan blinked at him slowly, even as his cock throbbed against his belly. “You weren’t jealous?”

“Oh, maddeningly so. But I’m not your jailor, Ethan. You were a grown ass man who could do what he wanted, and we weren’t together then, so I pushed the jealousy aside, because you’re first and foremost my best friend, and always will be, and instead of being jealous I just….perved on you instead, like a pervy voyeur. Sorry, about that by the way.”

Ethan shook his head. “S’fine. I don’t actually mind. And I’m in bed with the person I want to be with, so you’ve no need to be jealous anymore.”

“Right, that’s good. That’s really…good.” Benji smacked a wet kiss to the crease of Ethan’s thigh; pushing his legs open that little bit more. “So, was Ilsa the last person who fucked you?”

He averted his gaze. “No. It was…” he swallowed thickly, unable to lie to Benji, even if the truth hurt. “It was Walker.”

Benji jerked his head up; eyes wide. “Walker? When did he… Wait? Did he rape you, Ethan?” Is that what he did up on that cliff?”

Ethan nodded sadly, unable to keep the truth inside anymore. “I managed to get him off me, but not before he, y’know… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. I was, well, I guess I was ashamed.”

He furiously swiped at his eyes, hating that he was ruining this. Benji crawled up over him, and turned his head; caressing his cheeks. “Look at me, baby. Ethan, please.” Ethan fluttered open his eyes; sucking in a sharp breath at the lack of disgust or pity or judgement. “Hey, there you are. There’s nothing to be ashamed about, okay? Walker was a fucking despicable bastard, and he’s going to rot in hell for everything he did, but especially for hurting you. But Ethan, darling, you did nothing wrong, and I’m so sorry that happened to you, but it’s not going to make me love you any less, okay?”

He just looked at Benji, who looked back at him, letting Ethan see whatever he needed to; to know he was telling the truth, and Ethan wanted to look at him every day for the rest of his life. “I’ve not ruined things?”

“No, of course not.”

He sniffed; skating his hand down Benji’s arm to link their fingers together. His erection had wilted a little, but he didn’t feel like running away which was a little surprising. “I fucking adore you, Benji Dunn.”

“Well, I’m very adorable.” Benji pecked him on the lips. “You okay though? To continue I mean. We can stop. And you can fuck me if that makes things easier? We don’t have to do anything that hurts you or you don’t want to do.”

Ethan blew out a trembling breath. “No, I told you, I want this. You can do anything you want to me. I just…I just wanted to tell you, because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

There was still more he had to tell, but that could come later. They had time.

“Okay then. I appreciate your vulnerability right now, by the way. I know it’s taking a lot, and just know it makes me love you even more than I already do. Which I didn’t think was actually possible, but as I’ve learned over the years, you live to do the impossible.”

Ethan tugged Benji close by his ears and kissed him until his lungs burned. “Fuck me, Benji,” he panted; cock back to full hardness just from the feel of Benji’s mouth on his own. “Please. I want it. I want you so fucking much.”

Benji nodded and wiggled his way back down in between Ethan’s thighs. Wrapped his lips around the plump tip of his dick, suckling for a moment. Ethan moaned; trying not to buck up into the wet heat of Benji’s mouth.

“You carry on doing that, this won’t last very long, Benji, and I want to come while you’re inside me.”

“Jesus, okay. You taste delicious by the way. Love the hint of grey in your bush too. Definitely sucking your cock some more in the near future.”

Ethan spluttered out a laugh. “Sure. We can schedule that in. I’m retired now, did you hear?”

“Really? What a coincidence, I’m retired too. How about that huh?”

“Dork.” Ethan playfully tapped him on the side with his foot. “You going to prep me or do I need to shove my own fingers up my ass?”

Benji squawked out an affronted gasp. “Um, of course I’m going to prep you, you maniac. I mean, sure, the thought of you with your fingers in your ass is definitely one for the wank bank, but that can also come later, because if I don’t touch you and get you ready for my cock, I think I might actually die.”

Ethan gestured at him to go right ahead then.

“Right, thank you.” Benji chucked Ethan’s legs over his shoulders, and then buried his face in between Ethan’s ass cheeks. He whined at the first wet rasp of Benji’s tongue; rim fluttering open as he licked and probed, softening the ring of muscle. He squirmed under the ministrations of Benji’s mouth; heat in his veins from the way Benji swirled his tongue over his hole, little, kitten licks that made his cock twitch in pleasure.

“Fuck, Benji, that feels—your mouth, fuck!”

Benji pulled off him with a wet slurp, chuckling when Ethan pouted in dismay. “Where’s the lube?” He pointed in the direction of the bedside drawer. Benji reached over, and Ethan took the opportunity to surge up and kiss his freckled chest.  He mouthed at his berry-pink nipple, grinning when Benji chuffed, trying to bat him away. “Stop that, you menace. I have a plan remember?”

Ethan let Benji’s nipple slip free. “Another one for the list?”

“Yes, exactly. Plenty to look forward to in the future, right?”

Considering Ethan hadn’t been sure when he’d gotten home what his future would look like, the thought of one filled with lots of fun sex and endless time with Benji, had him beaming so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’m liking this list.”

“I thought you might.” Benji poured lube on his fingers; rubbing the pads together to warm it up because he was perfect. Ethan gasped at the first press of fingers against his rim; letting out a deep breath to relax. Benji slid one digit inside him, and it was nothing like what had happened on that cliff, that Ethan quickly melted into it; hole sucking the finger deeper inside him. “That feel good, baby?”

“Uh huh,” Ethan rolled his hips; silently begging for more.

“Because you feel amazing, love. Hot and tight, and I can’t wait to get my cock inside you.”

“Finger me faster then.”

Benji snickered; giving him a second finger. His breath hitched at the sudden stretch, but then he moaned, because it felt so good. Ethan rocked back against the crook of Benji’s fingers; pinching at his nipples, needing more.

“Need you to fuck me, Benji. Can’t wait any longer.”

“Don’t you want another—”

“No,” Ethan frantically shook his head from side to side. “No more fingers. Need your cock. Please, Sweetheart.”

Benji nuzzled the curve of his knee; dragging his lips over the bone in a smudge of a kiss. “Never thought I’d have THE Ethan Hunt begging for my cock.”

“Well you do, so hurry up and give it to me.”

“Alright, jeez.” Benji pulled his fingers free, with a teasing tug on his rim, and then paused. “Condoms?”

“In the drawer, but I don’t want you to wear one. I’m clean, and I really want to feel you.”

Benji gripped the base of his dick and exhaled. “Okay, okay. You can do this, Dunn. Don’t blow this.”  He slicked his cock with lube, and then blanketing Ethan’s torso, pressed inside. Ethan clutched at his shoulders; wrapping his legs around Benji’s waist, pulling him closer. “Okay?” he asked through gritted teeth, like it was taking everything to keep still and not fuck him right then.

“Better than. You feel perfect inside me.” Ethan leaned up to kiss him, and nipped at his bottom lip. “You can move now though.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Benji rolled his hips; starting a slow, deep rhythm. Ethan lost himself in the feel of Benji inside him; the push-pull drag of his cock against his swollen insides, the way he rubbed over his prostate that had his spine feel like it was turning to liquid, and how Benji never stopped kissing him with every thrust in and out.

It didn’t take long before Ethan felt the tell-tale pulse in his balls, and he gasped out, “I’m gonna come, Benji,” seconds before his dick spurted thick ribbons of cum all over his chest and belly. His hole spasmed around Benji’s fat cock and then his hips stuttered, and he blew his load deep in Ethan’s guts.

Benji collapsed on top of him with a ragged huff; both of them sweaty and hot. Ethan held him tighter, not wanting him to move off him just yet. “That’s was incredible.”

“Yeah. Worth the wait.”

“I think so too.”

Benji tucked his face in the crook of Ethan’s neck, and snuggled into him; his cock slowly softening inside the sticky mess of his hole. “How do you want to do this, Ethan?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“This. Our life together. What do you want? No more saving the world and getting beat up, we have the whole unknown future ahead of us, so…what do you want? Because I want to give you the future you want.”

He rolled his bottom lip against the blunt edge of his teeth and thought long and hard about what Benji was asking. The idea of a life beyond the IMF had seemed so incomprehensible, Ethan had never actually planned for it to come to pass. He’d already been married once, and sure, the idea of Benji wearing his ring and getting to call him his husband made that squirmy feeling he’d not felt in years appear in his belly, but it wasn’t a necessity.

And kids…that was a dream he’d long since accepted was not one that would come true for him. But that was okay. The young’uns on the team were like his children anyway. He was sure Luther and Brandt would be ecstatic to be their grumpy, sarcastic uncles.

They might have both retired, but they hadn’t lived a normal life. Ethan especially. It had been a long, hard, often times painful journey to get here, and he just really didn’t know what was going to come next, only that he’d made it this far.

He was with the man he loved, and he was happy.

They could do whatever they wanted next, and it would only be wrong if Ethan didn’t do it with the man in his arms.

“I don’t know. I just want to be with you, Benji. That’s all I know.”

Benji pressed a kiss to his throat and hummed. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Ethan buried his nose in Benji’s hair and just let his eyes drift close; feeling properly at peace for the first time. He started to drift off, in no rush to clean up the mess sticking them together, when Benji said—

“Maybe we could get a dog? One of those ones with lots of energy you can run around with, but will cuddle up with me on the couch.”

He laughed softly, and replied, “We can do that.”

Ethan held him tight and smiled as he napped; his future full of Benji, his friends, apparently a dog, and endless possibilities.

It was everything he’d risked his life and saved the world for.