He's glancing askance at Alecto, curious about his reaction to the coffee today, but otherwise not particularly on the alert or on guard for anything in particular. From his perspective, the housing they'd been given for the mission was perfectly nice - exactly the kind of starter home in the suburbs that a young couple just starting out might get - within their means, but without the necessity of a lot of additional space - furnishings all mismatched but well-maintained. Comfortable, but not necessarily well-to-do.
But Alecto floats through the space like a will-o'-the-wisp, like something out of the old fairy stories, just a bit too beautiful to fit in without drawing notice, unnaturally restrained by his surroundings. It's an idle thought for Josh, amused and whimsical, wondering if perhaps he'd run across a sealskin or a coat of feathers at some point, and everything would evaporate entirely away, the end of a waking dream.
So when Alecto suggests the change to their sleeping arrangements, he shrugs, perfectly agreeable. It was for their cover, surely, or some other important aspect of the mission. "Well, I won't hate not stubbing my toe on the endtable in the dark anymore." He remarks. It was a big bed. It would be fine. He could absolutely be professional about this. "What brought this on, though?"
Alecto was not at all shy about telling Josh when he was doing something wrong.
Another silence, this one more disagreeable than the first. He smiles, not exactly at Josh - a sweet, unfocused smile, quite impersonal, as if he were a waiter or a clerk in a store. "Remember that dreadful weekend we went to go play tennis with Joanna and her husband from next door? Well, apparently, she's concerned for us." He lifts his brows expressively, trying to convey the awkward feeling of it all. Damn the proximity of their bedroom windows and damn that woman for her boredom and inevitable nosiness. How tacky. "It's silly. But if it's that noticeable to a simple housewife, that something could off between us as a...couple, then we need to fix that. Quickly."
Joshua's warm stare forces Alecto to cut his eyes away. "I've already run this by M. She approves."
At this particular angle, in this light, Alecto appeared briefly very beautiful, in an unsettling, almost mediaeval way which would not be apparent to the causal observer. (And Joshua Archer was by all means, not a casual observer). He reaches a hand up idly to push back a stray strand of hair, effortlessly chic.
After a moment, he takes another slow sip of his drink. It's nearly finished now.
He did remember the weekend in question, remembered the side conversation that Alecto and Joanna had been having at some point. He hadn't imagined this would be the topic of their conversation though.
He blinks, feeling abruptly thrown off - as much from the expression on Alecto's face, the graceful economy of his movements, as from the actual content of his words. It takes his brain a few moments to catch up, and he blinks, still processing.
"Um, right now?" He asks, casual and matter-of-fact, seemingly more concerned with the logistics than the far more pressing question of whether or not they should. He's really not sure how M comes (no) into this, but he feels distinctly and irrationally nervous that he should be crossing her mind in this context at all.
Alecto suddenly laughs, and it's a sharp, silly sound. He puts his mug down and crosses his arms, admiring Josh fully as if he were just the most entertaining thing. "I'd be impressed if you could get it up that quick and on command." (No, really, he would. Seriously. Actually, he'd like to test that out one day -)
He takes a step forward, thoughtful in his motions, perhaps even a little intimidating in the way he keeps his eyes on Josh's every micro expression. When he speaks again, it's similar to how a teacher might address a student: "Though, if we were to, how would you go about it?" Here, now.
He shrugs, as casually as he can manage, despite Alecto's proximity, his attention, the teasing note in his otherwise thoughtful, dispassionate words; Josh is a good actor, but he's not actually trying to fool Alecto, just to keep himself under control. Actions before feelings.
"Well, I'm not twenty anymore," he says with wry agreement. "But, because I'm not twenty anymore, I have gotten a lot better with my hands and mouth and tongue." He glances aside, breaking the connection in their shared gazes, but his tone of voice is still surprisingly steady and calm, confident not in his own natural appeal, but in his ability to respond to the question, the directive.
"I'd kiss you first. Just like I did back at the casino. We don't have a wall here, but you're already leaning against the countertop. I have two inches on you in height normally, maybe even a little more if I angle myself properly, if you stay leaning just a bit. I'd run my fingers through your hair, maybe tilt your face up a little." He almost flexes his fingers, the slightest tremor of motion running through his body before he stills himself again. "I might pull, just lightly at first, to see how you liked it."
He grins, sudden and bright. "I think you would though."
If Josh's words did anything to provoke him, Alecto makes no obvious show of it. He remains still, letting out a low, almost judgmental hum. "I'd say given what we know of Daniel..." - the name he was given for his undercover persona - "..the hair pulling would definitely be appreciated. I imagine I'd respond pretty enthusiastically to that. For sure. Maybe grab my face and squeeze my jaw, make me open my mouth for you." A chuckle. "Just a suggestion."
His eyes are bright with interest, some sort of distinct fire behind his steady gaze. But otherwise, he doesn't react.
Right. This was about their cover, maintaining their cover. He's of mixed feelings about whether their apparently normal neighbors - however nosy - would really be paying that much attention (though their actual targets, who lived a few houses down, might), but Alecto was typically privy to more information than he was.
He absorbs the new information with a quiet solemnity, his head tilted briefly to take in Alecto's suggestions.
"In that case, I'd step closer in, crowding you against the countertop, really see just how interested you were in moving things further." This was about their personas, who were - more or less - newlyweds living together in a house for the first time; with that as the premise he revises his approach slightly. "I'd pull back just a bit, to see if - Daniel - would follow my lead, before wrapping my fingers under your chin and holding you still. I wouldn't kiss you again though, just keep my hand on your chin, stroke my thumb just under your open mouth, not quite rough, my eyes fixed on yours."
He doesn't shift, doesn't give any outward sign that this is affecting him physically in any way. "And you'd be able to see it all play out, all the things I wanted to do to you, just in my gaze, feel every single step, even without feeling my cock pressed hard against your hip, pinned between me and the edge of the countertop, digging into your side."
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, feeling the cold of the morning air, making his mouth nearly water. Nearly. Mannaggia tutto, did he want to follow through, imagining exactly how all of what Josh is describing right now would feel, the heat of their bodies shared and warming the cold countertop, how he'd tear rudely at their clothes, barely undressing them before he wrapped his legs around that goddamn trim waist and -
Fuck, he really did this to himself didn't he?
"I think I'd - well, Daniel - would surprise you," he says, tilting his head a little, trying his best to stay coy, unmoved, even though it's clear in his face he's...impressed. "He could very well try to turn the tables on you, being spontaneous as he is, and just decide to give you the sloppiest blowjob of your life. See how confident of your well-laid plans you'd be then."
And with that, he moves to place his mug into the dishwasher, bending over just a bit to do so, knowing (no, because he's sure of this) that Joshua Archer was watching him carefully.
"Anyway, we have brunch in two hours. Our marks will be at the same restaurant. I'll see you in the car."
He is indeed watching Alecto, but more to judge the impact of his words, his response to the request and his assignment, whether he'd met Alecto's expectations. His rejoinder doesn't really demand a response, a clear dismissal as he lays out their plans for the day, but Josh can't help it anyway.
"Alright," he says, with just a hint of wryness in his tone. "Then, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to take care of before I go get ready."
The rest of the day passes uneventfully. They do the work required, tail the marks, share a steak (that was far too well-done for Alecto's taste), and add the details into their reports in the evening.
As agreed, they sleep in the same bed that very night but almost mechanically so ("Listen, Pippa, is it more seductive to sleep face to face with someone or back to back?" "I'd say they're both equally bad since you're sleeping in the same bed already, duckling." "God, you're no help." "Just remember to make him wear a condom, ok?" "Pippa, stop." "Alecto, I'm just saying, you're lucky you're not a girl because you'd be pregnant. Like, a lot. With how you go about things. Anyway, love you." "You're the worst. Love you too."). And Alecto ends up tossing and turning until at least 3 am in the morning before he finally gets some rest.
Nonetheless, he manages to wake up looking somewhat refreshed and not in the least exhausted. The only hint to his restless night was a sluggishness in his usually sylphlike movements. His hair is being stubborn, more fluffy at the top than he'd like, and he is trying to tamp it down into a more agreeable style when he walks into the kitchen.
The familiar ritual begins: the viscous pour of hot coffee, a sip, a hum of approval ("It's sweeter this time. I like it."). And then the wordless tête-à-tête as neither man moves closer or away from the other, waiting for a reason to do either.
He brightens at Alecto's compliment (he'd been tweaking the coffee preparation little by little, just as an experiment to amuse himself), but doesn't otherwise say anything. He's thinking about their conversation the day before, about Alecto's two proposed changes to their current routine. He'd stayed in the bedroom, in the shared bed, the night before; he'd slept more or less through the night, the deliberate, practiced sleep of someone who knew very well that regular rest couldn't be depended upon and to grab what he could whenever he could.
Part of him had been expecting Alecto to move forward with the other proposed change; it would probably be more convenient in a bed, if their sleeping arrangements were what Joanna-the-neighbor was being so delicately concerned about. But the whole night passes without him bringing the topic up again, and Josh is fine with going along with that. But it wasn't really in line with the way he usually operated, on other missions. Not that this one was typical by any means.
"So," he says, as Alecto drains the last drops of coffee from the mug. "Was our conversation yesterday just a thought exercise or...?"
If he were a lesser man, he would have choked on that final drop of coffee. But instead, he lets it slide down his throat, calmly. The mug is placed back on the counter with a soft, ceramic click. "It wasn't." He leans back slowly against the kitchen island behind him, a perfect mirror image of his positioning yesterday morning. "And I'm guessing that's what you were hoping to hear, Mr. Archer? Considering the way you're looking at me right now."
His smile is just this side of provocative. He's wearing nothing but what he slept in - a rumpled white tank top and soft lounge shorts - and yet somehow he still manages to convey a completely urbane, pulled-together image.
Goddamn it. If you're gonna make the jump, might as well just go in head first -
Alecto's gaze runs hot up and down Josh's body, resting briefly at particular spots - his mouth, his hands, his crotch - before he tilts his chin up just a bit, like an invitation. "Though, these two newlyweds are past the point of talking, don't you think?"
Joshua Archer isn't any more than subconsciously aware of looking at Alecto in any particular way right now, but Alecto was both incredibly observant and very insightful, and it wasn't as though he was wrong about how Josh felt.
There's a lot of things he could say. He could deny that he was hoping to hear these words from Alecto. He could point out that Alecto was the one who had initiated the discussion in the first place. He could (ugh) bring up the fact that Alecto had apparently gone so far as to discuss this with M (who apparently approved? - the less Josh thought about this, the better, honestly).
But really? Why bother, with an opening like that?
Joshua takes a step forward, cutting off Alecto's assessing gaze, and kisses him, hard, his hands coming to a rest on either side of Alecto's body, pinning him against the countertop.
He doesn't make it easy for Josh in the slightest, even as the kiss slams into him, and he hisses sharply, their teeth knocking against each other before their tongues even get the chance to.
He loves the way Josh boxes him in, how he keeps him in line, in check. He has always loved that about their dynamic in general. But he's aware that this - the thing that's happening between them right now - isn't about him, or Joshua Archer, or either of them really. It's about - or should be about - their covers, and how plausible and cogent they are together. This was a means to an end.
Again. It's not about them. It can't be. It really can't. Alecto won't allow it to happen. Not again. Not after the last one -
"Pull my hair," he groans into Josh's open mouth, kissing him back like he wants to fight him, not make love to him. "Pull it, hard."
He shifts even closer, his left hand staying on the countertop, his right leg shifting forward almost between Alecto's legs, as though to keep tabs on him a different way, without the use of his other hand. He tips his head, swallows that groan of reaction, Alecto's words spurring him on, and slides his fingers up, deceptively gentle as he cards his fingertips up through the shorter hair at the name of his neck before gathering the longer strands together and yanking hard, dragging Alecto's entire body closer against his own.
It's irritating, just a bit, remembering Alecto's comment the previous day; as it turns out, his body has absolutely no issue reacting more or less immediately to the provocation at hand, to Alecto's directives.
"God," he groans, bawdy and sharp as his head is jerked back, his body pulled to crash directly into Josh's own. He loves how Josh barely moves from the impact, just a solid wall, pressing down over him. "Just like that. Perfect." And the rest of the word disappears back in Josh's mouth as Alecto kisses him again, biting down on his lips too harshly, drawing a bit of blood, the metallic tang of it making Alecto shiver.
"You never cease to amaze me," he says without realizing he does, and he wonders if this is what he truly means, as himself (the handler, Q, the face behind the earpiece), or as this other man, this happily married, horrendously kinky man that was to be his mask for the next few months. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Maybe no matter how good of a liar you are, you always take yourself everywhere you go, and in everyone you pretend to be -
Alecto is grinding his hips against Josh's leg, rubbing himself to semi-hardness just like this. "Tell me: how would Thomas like to fuck his husband?" He bites at Josh's sharp chin, barely able to move any further with the way Josh has his hair in that vice grip. "Does he like to take him from behind? Holding him down by his neck? Putting him in his place? Or -" He licks his lips, meeting Josh's darkening gaze. "Does he like to watch, face to face, seeing him as he falls apart beneath him?"
It was embarrassing, perhaps, how much Alecto's voice, praising him in that particular tone, had somehow come to be a small, specific, unconscious pleasure for Josh, but he is reacting almost before he realizes, a flush of reaction, a bubble of eager happiness inside his chest, something automatic, intrinsic.
Right. The mission.
"Mm, a bed might be nice," he replies, but in more of a joking tone, as he shifts his stance so Alecto can grind more easily against his leg, so he can feel Josh's cock hardening in his slacks; he'd been up for a few hours already before Alecto had come down, had actually gotten dressed for the day.
"I think Thomas would be pleased to have his husband in any way Daniel might prefer," he adds, more thoughtful, his tone almost managing to sound detached - but only just. "But Daniel seems to like it especially rough." He lets go of Alecto's hair, brings a hand to his chin to hold him still, staring deeply into his eyes for a few long, breathless moments, before he slides his fingers into Alecto's mouth, curious about what his reaction would be to that little liberty.
"He does -" he murmurs back in response but the words get jumbled when suddenly, Josh's fingers are filling his mouth, pressing his tongue down as if it were misbehaving and in need of discipline. Alecto's eyelids flutter closed at that implication, his lips pursing to wrap tighter around the digits pressing deep, deeper still. He sucks slowly, but surely, trying to move his head in a very suggestive manner, but the way Josh squeezes his chin makes that difficult. Deliciously so.
What can he say? He's - sorry, Daniel's - a glutton for punishment.
His hips continue to slide and his hands are a disorganized flurry all over Josh's shirt front, trying to even that playfield at least and get them both into equal states of undress. His fingertips catch on pearlized buttons, clutching at them, tugging them open so that Alecto can scratch his nails down the smooth, chiseled surface of Josh's chest.
Without the ability to speak, all Alecto can do is express himself with his body, hoping his agent could read this particular language well enough by now to know what he's expected to do next.
He's feeling pretty gratified with himself, thrilling at each one of Alecto's reactions to his little leaps of intuition, always with the intent to please. He slides his fingers out of Alecto's mouth slowly, just a little bit rough, stretching his jaw a little beyond the bounds of comfort, a wordless challenge and implication in the simple motion, before he replaces his hand with his lips, hooking his now-damp fingers into the elastic of Alecto's sleeping shorts and tugging them downwards.
"Since we're in the kitchen," he says, enunciating clearly despite their proximity, his words a physical sensation against Alecto's skin, not just an auditory one, wrapping his hand around the bulge of Alecto's cock and stroking gently, "I wonder if Daniel would prefer to bend over the counter for Thomas' cock?"
Josh's fingers leave his mouth with a wet little pop and it's only now that Alecto's breathing starts to pick up, hips jerking harshly as the other man slowly works a hand around him. For a moment, Alecto's entire train of thought crashes into a pile of flames and he can't be bothered to piece together a single coherent idea or sentence until he forces himself to close his eyes fully, temporarily blocking out Josh's intense, fervent stare that was making Alecto start to sweat.
"I think," he says, words throaty but breathless, "that's absolutely what he'd like to do." And with that, he rearranges himself, stepping out of his shorts and kicking them aside across the tile flooring, forgotten. As he turns, it's hardly graceful - it's hasty and just this side of urgent - with his legs spreading and his back dipped low, low, low, showing off the pretty, pale lines of his figure as he stretches himself forward against the cold marble.
His breath catches in his throat, but Alecto isn't watching him like this, can't see the way his hands shake as he fumbles the button and flies of his slacks open, pushing down his underwear and drawing out his erection.
Perhaps it had been a little presumptuous of him, but ever since the day before, when Alecto had confronted him with this little change in their approach (and he'd had to practically bite down on his own arm while locked in the bathroom to muffle the sound of him jerking off before getting ready for their brunch appointment), he'd taken to carrying around condoms and lubricant in the pocket of his slacks. It paid to be prepared, after all. If it didn't ever come up, then there was no need for Alecto to know - at worst, he'd be teased briefly about it, and Alecto knew far more about Josh that was embarrassing than an inclination to be safe; and if it did come up - well...
He's glad he'd remembered this morning.
"Thomas is pretty pleased with how the plans he made yesterday morning are going now, actually," he murmurs in Alecto's ear, leaning forward so his breath stirs Alecto's hair, and rests a proprietary hand on the curve of his ass, remembering how it had felt in his palm when they'd kissed back at the casino. But he can take far more liberties this time around, and his callused fingers run lightly over smooth, firm skin, sliding damply along the crack of his ass, the tips of his fingers just glancing over the tense ring of muscle at his entrance.
His hands clench briefly into fists, nails digging into his palms as he feels Josh's rough fingers trace over him, so close but still too far.
"Well, Thomas shouldn't let it get to his head," he grumbles, like a warning though it certainly feels more like a challenge. Alecto turns his head slightly, his dark hair flopping into his eyes, giving him an enticing, tousled look, as if he were shooting some sort of vintage pinup.
He chuckles in the face of the warning, before he pulls his hand away, and leans forward again to kiss Alecto's forehead, right where his dark hair is falling. "He'll be careful not to," he says softly, perhaps a little too genuine, before he shifts back and pops open the cap on the tube of lubricant he'd had in his pocket to slick his fingers. The angle of his ass, tilted up with his body pressed flat against the countertop, is more or less perfect for Josh to slide two fingers in, slow and exploratory, eyes steady and observant, ever alert for his next cue from Alecto.
He makes a sharp, appreciative sound when he feels Josh finally start to finger him open. But Alecto was never quite a patient kind of man, nor could he ever bring himself to stay quiet and…well, submissive (yeah, he gets the irony, thanks).
“Deeper - mm,” he says, even while he lifts his head when Josh presses a kiss to his temple. The action is so gentle compared to the demands he’s about to make. “And spread your fingers wider - ” A sharp inhale, suddenly as he feels each request come quickly to fruition. “Just like that - mm no - ” Alecto blinks his eyes open, pupils wide and expectant, looking back at Josh once more. “ - be rougher.”
Fuck. Since Alecto had become his new handler, there had been only a very fine line of propriety between Josh's automatic reactions to his comments and orders while on missions and - well, this. Not that he'd ever dreamed of this particular scenario coming to pass. (Well, maybe just a little bit of dreaming.)
He thrusts with his slick fingers, not only roughly, but demanding, expectant, intent on testing the physical limits of Alecto's body and pushing them as quickly as he can. He slides a third finger in, curling them all inside and stroking deliberately against clenching muscles, testing the angle. His other hand slides up along Alecto's spine to scritch lightly at the hair at the the nape of his neck and then back down, a gentle pressure traveling down between his shoulderblades and at his hip, hinting at what he might do once things really got moving again.
"Ready?" He asks, reaching deep inside Alecto with his fingers, and amends, quickly, "Is Daniel ready to take his husband's cock?"
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But Alecto floats through the space like a will-o'-the-wisp, like something out of the old fairy stories, just a bit too beautiful to fit in without drawing notice, unnaturally restrained by his surroundings. It's an idle thought for Josh, amused and whimsical, wondering if perhaps he'd run across a sealskin or a coat of feathers at some point, and everything would evaporate entirely away, the end of a waking dream.
So when Alecto suggests the change to their sleeping arrangements, he shrugs, perfectly agreeable. It was for their cover, surely, or some other important aspect of the mission. "Well, I won't hate not stubbing my toe on the endtable in the dark anymore." He remarks. It was a big bed. It would be fine. He could absolutely be professional about this. "What brought this on, though?"
Alecto was not at all shy about telling Josh when he was doing something wrong.
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Joshua's warm stare forces Alecto to cut his eyes away. "I've already run this by M. She approves."
At this particular angle, in this light, Alecto appeared briefly very beautiful, in an unsettling, almost mediaeval way which would not be apparent to the causal observer. (And Joshua Archer was by all means, not a casual observer). He reaches a hand up idly to push back a stray strand of hair, effortlessly chic.
After a moment, he takes another slow sip of his drink. It's nearly finished now.
"I also think we should fuck."
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He blinks, feeling abruptly thrown off - as much from the expression on Alecto's face, the graceful economy of his movements, as from the actual content of his words. It takes his brain a few moments to catch up, and he blinks, still processing.
"Um, right now?" He asks, casual and matter-of-fact, seemingly more concerned with the logistics than the far more pressing question of whether or not they should. He's really not sure how M comes (no) into this, but he feels distinctly and irrationally nervous that he should be crossing her mind in this context at all.
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He takes a step forward, thoughtful in his motions, perhaps even a little intimidating in the way he keeps his eyes on Josh's every micro expression. When he speaks again, it's similar to how a teacher might address a student: "Though, if we were to, how would you go about it?" Here, now.
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"Well, I'm not twenty anymore," he says with wry agreement. "But, because I'm not twenty anymore, I have gotten a lot better with my hands and mouth and tongue." He glances aside, breaking the connection in their shared gazes, but his tone of voice is still surprisingly steady and calm, confident not in his own natural appeal, but in his ability to respond to the question, the directive.
"I'd kiss you first. Just like I did back at the casino. We don't have a wall here, but you're already leaning against the countertop. I have two inches on you in height normally, maybe even a little more if I angle myself properly, if you stay leaning just a bit. I'd run my fingers through your hair, maybe tilt your face up a little." He almost flexes his fingers, the slightest tremor of motion running through his body before he stills himself again. "I might pull, just lightly at first, to see how you liked it."
He grins, sudden and bright. "I think you would though."
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His eyes are bright with interest, some sort of distinct fire behind his steady gaze. But otherwise, he doesn't react.
"Go on."
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He absorbs the new information with a quiet solemnity, his head tilted briefly to take in Alecto's suggestions.
"In that case, I'd step closer in, crowding you against the countertop, really see just how interested you were in moving things further." This was about their personas, who were - more or less - newlyweds living together in a house for the first time; with that as the premise he revises his approach slightly. "I'd pull back just a bit, to see if - Daniel - would follow my lead, before wrapping my fingers under your chin and holding you still. I wouldn't kiss you again though, just keep my hand on your chin, stroke my thumb just under your open mouth, not quite rough, my eyes fixed on yours."
He doesn't shift, doesn't give any outward sign that this is affecting him physically in any way. "And you'd be able to see it all play out, all the things I wanted to do to you, just in my gaze, feel every single step, even without feeling my cock pressed hard against your hip, pinned between me and the edge of the countertop, digging into your side."
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Fuck, he really did this to himself didn't he?
"I think I'd - well, Daniel - would surprise you," he says, tilting his head a little, trying his best to stay coy, unmoved, even though it's clear in his face he's...impressed. "He could very well try to turn the tables on you, being spontaneous as he is, and just decide to give you the sloppiest blowjob of your life. See how confident of your well-laid plans you'd be then."
And with that, he moves to place his mug into the dishwasher, bending over just a bit to do so, knowing (no, because he's sure of this) that Joshua Archer was watching him carefully.
"Anyway, we have brunch in two hours. Our marks will be at the same restaurant. I'll see you in the car."
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"Alright," he says, with just a hint of wryness in his tone. "Then, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to take care of before I go get ready."
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As agreed, they sleep in the same bed that very night but almost mechanically so ("Listen, Pippa, is it more seductive to sleep face to face with someone or back to back?" "I'd say they're both equally bad since you're sleeping in the same bed already, duckling." "God, you're no help." "Just remember to make him wear a condom, ok?" "Pippa, stop." "Alecto, I'm just saying, you're lucky you're not a girl because you'd be pregnant. Like, a lot. With how you go about things. Anyway, love you." "You're the worst. Love you too."). And Alecto ends up tossing and turning until at least 3 am in the morning before he finally gets some rest.
Nonetheless, he manages to wake up looking somewhat refreshed and not in the least exhausted. The only hint to his restless night was a sluggishness in his usually sylphlike movements. His hair is being stubborn, more fluffy at the top than he'd like, and he is trying to tamp it down into a more agreeable style when he walks into the kitchen.
The familiar ritual begins: the viscous pour of hot coffee, a sip, a hum of approval ("It's sweeter this time. I like it."). And then the wordless tête-à-tête as neither man moves closer or away from the other, waiting for a reason to do either.
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Part of him had been expecting Alecto to move forward with the other proposed change; it would probably be more convenient in a bed, if their sleeping arrangements were what Joanna-the-neighbor was being so delicately concerned about. But the whole night passes without him bringing the topic up again, and Josh is fine with going along with that. But it wasn't really in line with the way he usually operated, on other missions. Not that this one was typical by any means.
"So," he says, as Alecto drains the last drops of coffee from the mug. "Was our conversation yesterday just a thought exercise or...?"
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His smile is just this side of provocative. He's wearing nothing but what he slept in - a rumpled white tank top and soft lounge shorts - and yet somehow he still manages to convey a completely urbane, pulled-together image.
Goddamn it. If you're gonna make the jump, might as well just go in head first -
Alecto's gaze runs hot up and down Josh's body, resting briefly at particular spots - his mouth, his hands, his crotch - before he tilts his chin up just a bit, like an invitation. "Though, these two newlyweds are past the point of talking, don't you think?"
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There's a lot of things he could say. He could deny that he was hoping to hear these words from Alecto. He could point out that Alecto was the one who had initiated the discussion in the first place. He could (ugh) bring up the fact that Alecto had apparently gone so far as to discuss this with M (who apparently approved? - the less Josh thought about this, the better, honestly).
But really? Why bother, with an opening like that?
Joshua takes a step forward, cutting off Alecto's assessing gaze, and kisses him, hard, his hands coming to a rest on either side of Alecto's body, pinning him against the countertop.
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He loves the way Josh boxes him in, how he keeps him in line, in check. He has always loved that about their dynamic in general. But he's aware that this - the thing that's happening between them right now - isn't about him, or Joshua Archer, or either of them really. It's about - or should be about - their covers, and how plausible and cogent they are together. This was a means to an end.
Again. It's not about them. It can't be. It really can't. Alecto won't allow it to happen. Not again. Not after the last one -
"Pull my hair," he groans into Josh's open mouth, kissing him back like he wants to fight him, not make love to him. "Pull it, hard."
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It's irritating, just a bit, remembering Alecto's comment the previous day; as it turns out, his body has absolutely no issue reacting more or less immediately to the provocation at hand, to Alecto's directives.
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"You never cease to amaze me," he says without realizing he does, and he wonders if this is what he truly means, as himself (the handler, Q, the face behind the earpiece), or as this other man, this happily married, horrendously kinky man that was to be his mask for the next few months. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Maybe no matter how good of a liar you are, you always take yourself everywhere you go, and in everyone you pretend to be -
Alecto is grinding his hips against Josh's leg, rubbing himself to semi-hardness just like this. "Tell me: how would Thomas like to fuck his husband?" He bites at Josh's sharp chin, barely able to move any further with the way Josh has his hair in that vice grip. "Does he like to take him from behind? Holding him down by his neck? Putting him in his place? Or -" He licks his lips, meeting Josh's darkening gaze. "Does he like to watch, face to face, seeing him as he falls apart beneath him?"
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Right. The mission.
"Mm, a bed might be nice," he replies, but in more of a joking tone, as he shifts his stance so Alecto can grind more easily against his leg, so he can feel Josh's cock hardening in his slacks; he'd been up for a few hours already before Alecto had come down, had actually gotten dressed for the day.
"I think Thomas would be pleased to have his husband in any way Daniel might prefer," he adds, more thoughtful, his tone almost managing to sound detached - but only just. "But Daniel seems to like it especially rough." He lets go of Alecto's hair, brings a hand to his chin to hold him still, staring deeply into his eyes for a few long, breathless moments, before he slides his fingers into Alecto's mouth, curious about what his reaction would be to that little liberty.
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What can he say? He's - sorry, Daniel's - a glutton for punishment.
His hips continue to slide and his hands are a disorganized flurry all over Josh's shirt front, trying to even that playfield at least and get them both into equal states of undress. His fingertips catch on pearlized buttons, clutching at them, tugging them open so that Alecto can scratch his nails down the smooth, chiseled surface of Josh's chest.
Without the ability to speak, all Alecto can do is express himself with his body, hoping his agent could read this particular language well enough by now to know what he's expected to do next.
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"Since we're in the kitchen," he says, enunciating clearly despite their proximity, his words a physical sensation against Alecto's skin, not just an auditory one, wrapping his hand around the bulge of Alecto's cock and stroking gently, "I wonder if Daniel would prefer to bend over the counter for Thomas' cock?"
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"I think," he says, words throaty but breathless, "that's absolutely what he'd like to do." And with that, he rearranges himself, stepping out of his shorts and kicking them aside across the tile flooring, forgotten. As he turns, it's hardly graceful - it's hasty and just this side of urgent - with his legs spreading and his back dipped low, low, low, showing off the pretty, pale lines of his figure as he stretches himself forward against the cold marble.
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Perhaps it had been a little presumptuous of him, but ever since the day before, when Alecto had confronted him with this little change in their approach (and he'd had to practically bite down on his own arm while locked in the bathroom to muffle the sound of him jerking off before getting ready for their brunch appointment), he'd taken to carrying around condoms and lubricant in the pocket of his slacks. It paid to be prepared, after all. If it didn't ever come up, then there was no need for Alecto to know - at worst, he'd be teased briefly about it, and Alecto knew far more about Josh that was embarrassing than an inclination to be safe; and if it did come up - well...
He's glad he'd remembered this morning.
"Thomas is pretty pleased with how the plans he made yesterday morning are going now, actually," he murmurs in Alecto's ear, leaning forward so his breath stirs Alecto's hair, and rests a proprietary hand on the curve of his ass, remembering how it had felt in his palm when they'd kissed back at the casino. But he can take far more liberties this time around, and his callused fingers run lightly over smooth, firm skin, sliding damply along the crack of his ass, the tips of his fingers just glancing over the tense ring of muscle at his entrance.
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"Well, Thomas shouldn't let it get to his head," he grumbles, like a warning though it certainly feels more like a challenge. Alecto turns his head slightly, his dark hair flopping into his eyes, giving him an enticing, tousled look, as if he were shooting some sort of vintage pinup.
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“Deeper - mm,” he says, even while he lifts his head when Josh presses a kiss to his temple. The action is so gentle compared to the demands he’s about to make. “And spread your fingers wider - ” A sharp inhale, suddenly as he feels each request come quickly to fruition. “Just like that - mm no - ” Alecto blinks his eyes open, pupils wide and expectant, looking back at Josh once more. “ - be rougher.”
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He thrusts with his slick fingers, not only roughly, but demanding, expectant, intent on testing the physical limits of Alecto's body and pushing them as quickly as he can. He slides a third finger in, curling them all inside and stroking deliberately against clenching muscles, testing the angle. His other hand slides up along Alecto's spine to scritch lightly at the hair at the the nape of his neck and then back down, a gentle pressure traveling down between his shoulderblades and at his hip, hinting at what he might do once things really got moving again.
"Ready?" He asks, reaching deep inside Alecto with his fingers, and amends, quickly, "Is Daniel ready to take his husband's cock?"
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