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His kiss is bruising, but Indy has never backed down from a fight or a fuck, and he isn’t going to start now. Bond’s fists bunch up the fabric of his shirt as he steers them towards the bed. Indy sits down hard.
“Been a while?” Bond asks, smirking above him.
“In a way.”
This earns him a quirked brow.
That got his interest.
Bond climbs onto the bed and over him, and Indy lets him because it’s nice not having to be the one in charge all the time. Their lips meet again, and Indy lets his jaw relax into it, allowing their tongues to meet and glide.
“Tell me what you meant,” Bond says.
His fingers make short work of Indy’s shirt, baring his scarred, toned chest to his hungry view. He rests his weight on Indy’s body, kissing and nibbling his jaw and neck and moving southward.
“Meant about what?” Indy asks
“When you said, ‘In a way.’”
Bond bites his collarbone, and Indy grunts, hips bucking up. He feels the other man smirk against his skin.
Cocky bastard.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy, alright?”
He feels his cheeks heat. He doesn’t have anything to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but something about being under Bond’s gaze puts him on edge. It’s like being studied, as though he was an interesting piece of pottery. Yet Bond doesn’t seem to be judging him, nor was he being derisive.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he says lamely when the building tension gets to be more than he can stand.
Anything to get their momentum back.
Anything so he doesn’t have to think about anyone or anything else. Bond shakes himself from his reverie.
“Sorry,” Bond says, voice softer than before. “It’s been a while for me, too.”
“Ah, hell.”
Bond huffs a laugh.
“We make a right pair.”
“Does that mean this is over?” Indy asks.
“Not unless you want it to be.”
“Well, come here then.”
It’s a bit of a surprise that Bond goes to him, but it’s not an unwelcome one. Their next kiss is languid, and therfore much more Indy’s speed. Sure, he loved a romp, but this? Getting to touch and grab and hold someone? Was about as nice as anything got.
“Can I?”
“Let me just...” Indy shifts a bit on the pillow under his hips. He’s a little nervous, and he badly wants this to be good for the both of them. ”Yeah, okay.”
“Alright.”
Bond presses into him, and Indy’s head tilts back. “A while” really had been too long. His toes curl as he adjusts to Bond’s girth.
“Good?” he asks, sounding only a little smug.
Indy can’t begrudge him too much. He had a lot to be proud of.
“Yes.”
Bond dips down to kiss him, and Indy happily, willingly lets him. Indy reopens his eyes when Bond pulls away. His eyes are an icy blue, and there’s something strangely familiar about them. Like he’s seen them in another face and in another color somewhere.
“You’re gorgeous,” Bond murmurs.
“Jesus, don’t.”
He wants to hide his face, but Bond predicts this and pins his wrists to the bed. Indy could get away if he really wanted or needed to, but he doesn’t.
“You are. Look at you.”
No, it’s too much. Indy won’t meet his gaze, but his little gasps and moans of pleasure every time he hits that spot inside him or when his cock slides slickly against their abs betrays him. Bond continues, undeterred.
“Strong. So well-muscled.” Bond gives a gentle bite to his pec that makes Indy hiss. “Brave.” Bond’s fingers find traces of a bullet wound on his side that still stings now and then. Bond presses his fingers against it, interested, probing. He wishes he had another hole to give the man to fill. “Eager, too.”
At this Bond frees one of his arms and wraps his hand around Indy’s neglected member.
“Bond...”
“James,” he urges. “Call me James.”
It’s too intimate. Can’t he see that?
“I can’t do this. I can’t.”
God, his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.
“It’s alright,” James soothes. “Let me take care of you.”
If he was a better man, he’d insist on doing the same, but he’s deeply enthralled, and he’s being too deliciously fucked into submission to actually do anything about it. He moans into James’ mouth.
“You’re so good. You’re so good for me.”
He’d never pictured those words coming out of the mouth of a sexual partner he barely knows. They’re words he’d always hoped to hear them from another person entirely, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now.
“God, just—”
“What?” James pants. “What do you need?”
“Talk to me. Say anything.”
“Anything?”
James’ voice sounds far away. Likely getting caught up in the heady pleasure their bodies had conjured. James drops his forehead onto Indy’s, and he can feel the man’s eyelashes flutter against his skin as he struggles to keep his eyes open as he continues plowing his hips forward and into him.
“I like how well you take me,” James begins. “I’m all the way inside you, and it’s driving me mad, and I never want to leave you.”
Fuck!
“James.”
“If I had it my way, you’d be my kept boy. Just for this. Just for petting you and praising you and fucking you.”
Indy’s ankles lock on the small of James’ back, trying so hard not to come. Not when he wants to hear more of what James is dishing, knowing that no one else on earth would probably ever say these things to him. Because James knows. He’s a kindred spirit. Adventuring, fighting, and spying were not conducive to love or pleasure or connection. It was about taking what you could get when you could get it, and this strange thing between them was precious. He’s not ready for it to be over.
He stubbornly holds back, and he knows James can tell.
“Indiana, please,” James begs.
His name on James’ lips only makes him want to double down.
“No,” Indy insists. “I’m not...”
Not ready.
“Please,” James husks. “Please let me make it good for you.”
Indy barely has time to think “Goddamnit” to himself before tumbling over the edge. He spurts thick pearlessence over James’ fist.
“There,” James murmurs. “Just like that.”
They share a filthy kiss as pleasure courses though Indy’s body.
“Can I come inside you?” James asks. “Please?”
He says it so quickly that it sounds almost like one long word.
“Yeah,” Indy manages to say. Somehow. “Go on.”
James lets his own orgasm wash over him, and Indy gets to experience it right along with him. His hips keep moving, even when he’s got nothing more to give. James moans brokenly in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. It’s not long before Indy feels him soften and slip out of him, but James is stubborn, too, and he presses his half-hardness back into him. It feels good to be needed.
“It’s okay,” Indy says.
He cups the back of James’ head, stroking his short blonde hair and then down his back and up again. Eventually, though, James slips out of him for good, and Indy tries and fails not to whimper like some blushing virgin. James places a tender kiss on his cheek before reluctantly climbing off of him to lie beside him. They drift into a silent lull.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Indy says to the ceiling, “if that makes it easier.”
“Does it?” James asks.
No, it doesn’t, neither of them say.
On the bed on their backs, their hands almost touch, but their guard is back up, and neither of them can seem to cross the chasm forming between them.
“I’d better go,” Bond says. “M is—”
“Well go on then.”
His words sound harsh to his own ears, but he doesn’t know how to take them back. Bond gets up from the bed, and Indy watches him redress, putting back on both his suit and his facade as his come leaks out of Indy’s hole. Bond reaches the door, but turns around with his hand on the knob.
“Take care of yourself out there.”
“No promises,” Indy quips.
It earns him a knowing smirk. And then, as quickly as they had fallen into each other’s orbit, they diverge.
Indy doesn’t think about it much.
Hardly at all, really.