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It all started with the kitten.
The kitten arrived just a few moments ago, set on his doorstep with a knock-tap-knock pattern as the only hint it didn't come from a secret admirer. And now it sits on his table. The little, white kitten with a red ribbon around its neck and wide, innocent, blue eyes. Eyes that didn't reveal the extent of the torture it had been subjected to.
Ethan almost feels bad about what he's about to do.
Savoring his last few minutes of peace, Ethan sits at the head of the table, staring down the kitten. Finally, his arm extends. He picks up the cat.
His thumb goes on the nose, the familiar prick of pain, the first sign he's not holding a real toy. Pulling his finger aside, a drop of blood lands on the kitten's lips. Ethan almost feels bad for staining the innocence. For revealing the cat's true nature as a killing machine with him as its next victim.
He stares at the eyes, silently apologizing for the past neither of them wanted for it. And for the inevitable future. The kitten destroyed and lost to time, him with a few more scars and nightmares.
A speaker from inside crackles and the eyes take on an almost lifelike glow, directing Ethan to point it at the barren wall. His hand lingers on the cat for a few seconds longer than he'd care to admit.
Good evening Mr. Hunt. Brigadier Kazanskiy is hosting a gala in two days to show off the family power and wealth. Unbeknownst to the public, his gala is a cover for an auction where he is selling new contracts for the coming year and the identities of various agents sent to infiltrate other groups as Bratok.
An admittedly impressive manor fills his wall, though the beauty is quickly lost on Ethan as it's soon replaced by a blueprint. Fuck, this place is absolutely massive, it'll take a miracle for him to learn his way around fast enough to get in and out without being spotted.
Your target will be Pytorovich Kazanskiy, the Brigadier's son. He has no knowledge of his father's illegal activities which you will take advantage of to gain access to the sublevels.
The picture changes, and a blond man with cheekbones that could sharpen a blade pops up. Ethan was not prepared for that. Usually his marks aren't that hot. It changes again, and Ethan catches on to why the IMF sent him. A brown haired man with a similar build to his own, compact- not short- has his arm draped around Kazanskiy's shoulders, faces too close to be friends.
Flirting with danger and an attractive man, what better way to spend his night?
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to gain access to the Kazanskiy auction and destroy any records of undercover agents they have in their possession, using any means at your disposal. If you are caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck Ethan. This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
The kitten's eyes dull and its body turns in on itself, melting the electronics stuffed inside. In a few quick moments, only the mangled corpse of the cat remains, bloodstain on its lips pointing back at Ethan.
Ethan allows himself a moment to mourn the loss of the kitten before he stands, tossing it into the trash. He has work to do.
—
A clinical knock on the door breaks the silence. The blond steps away from the mirror, taking his hands away from the hair he had perfectly straight ten minutes ago and the tie impeccably adorned fifteen ago. He takes a deep breath, the blizzard in his eyes receding into more playful snowflakes dancing about.
The door opens, and an older, regal man steps in. The blond adopts his submissive role. His head down, respect pouring off him in waves. The door closes.
"Boy."
"Father."
The blond lays his eyes on the folder his father held grasped in his hand. The older man hands it over wordlessly, letting the boy flip open to the first page.
A man. Familiar only in name. Ethan Hunt.
A raised eyebrow meets a disappointed look. Of course. The blond knows what to do. It was idiotic to even bother asking.
His purpose was made clear- he will not be enjoying himself. As much as he'll be playing the ditsy blond, he'll be a predator waiting to strike. This Ethan Hunt will not be getting anywhere close to the intel his father and he spent so long gathering. So much bloodshed to get to those names- it will not be in vain. Toma will not allow it.
His father leaves and Toma puts the finishing touches on his costume now that he knows what his purpose will be. A swipe of lip gloss, a knife sheathed near his breast, a packet of lube in his lapel, a gun loaded at his hip. Almost ready.
Toma ventures over to his bathroom, opening the top left drawer. Muscle memory opens the false bottom revealing his stash of toys. A minute later a syringe slips up either sleeve, propofol ready to be administered to an unsuspecting victim as quickly as possible.
One last check in the mirror tells Toma everything he already knew- he's a perfectly put together gentleman. And his icy exterior is so pristine no one can see the horrors lurking beneath its depths.
—
Getting in was the easy part. Ethan slipped into the gala without a second glance, wielding confidence like a knife cutting through the sea of guests. With practiced ease he scans the mob of faces, a casual set to his shoulders to not draw attention. Letting people see a pretty face with nothing behind it past looking for a good time.
A glass of champagne makes its way into his hand, and Ethan takes a mouthful while he circles the dance floor. A lion searching out the weak link to feast upon, in place of a sick antelope, a blond.
Oblivious to the black-footed cat doing the same prowl across the room.
Ethan makes his way over to the bar, dropping his glass on a waiter's tray before he reaches the end of the counter, situating himself to see as much of the room as possible. He waves the bartender away for the moment, needing to keep a clear head on his shoulders. It should be easy, seduce the younger Kazanskiy and play him like a fiddle (and Ethan's very talented with his fingers), but he refuses to take any chances.
Still no sign of the blond, not entirely surprising since it's still early in the evening, but Ethan expected him to show by now considering his father's role as host. But his job is to wait, and as hard as that usually is for him, Ethan can manage for a little while longer.
A few women draped in silk and jewels offer to buy him a drink, a confidence Ethan appreciates glistening in their eyes. Were he there for pleasure he would let them dazzle him into their bed, but his business mindset makes their shine a bit duller and he sends them away with a regretful wave of his hand.
A hand lands on his shoulder and Ethan almost jumps out of his skin, adrenaline coursing through his veins and a wild look in his eyes. His hand shoots towards a gun at his hip, whirling around to see who disturbed him, all the while thanking a god he never believed in for not blowing his cover.
The blond. It's him.
A lazy smile rests on a set of lips Ethan finds himself really wanting to kiss, attached to a face that leaves him breathless. Pictures don't do Tomas Pytorovich Kazanskiy justice.
With as much grace as he can muster Ethan smiles back, a flash of desire shooting along his spine. Well then, that'll make his job easier, not having to fake his attraction. Scanning the blond Ethan grins internally, satisfied his intel was correct. The blond's a kitten, all wide eyed innocence, never experienced a real threat in his life. Unfortunately for that kitten, he stepped into the ring with a real predator.
"Zdravstvuite." The blond purrs, eyes sparkling with desire. "Kak vas zovút?"
"Excuse me?" Ethan puts on his best confused face, "I apologize, I'm not Russian." Of course he understands, he'd be a shitty spy if he didn't, but best to play his cards close to his chest.
"Of course, my mistake." Pytorovich responds smoothly, "hello, what is your name?"
"Ethan. And yours?" Normally, he would use a different name for going undercover, but there was another Ethan for him to take the place of. So the name stuck.
"Tomas Pytorovich, but please, call me Toma."
The hand still sits against his shoulder, searing into his skin. Nerves and mind alight with the contact, Ethan doesn't even question how the blond snuck so close. "Well Toma, can I buy you a drink?"
"Please." Toma grins, sliding into the seat that Ethan swore was full a moment ago. His hand drifts down Ethan's arm, nerves alight with every touch until it tragically lets go at his wrist. Ethan curses the desire to grab it and return it to his arm.
Within moments the bartender leaves the crowded mess of patrons and approaches them, "what would you like Kazanskiy?"
"You know what I want." Toma states and the bartender nods, and a moment later a shot of vodka appears in front of him on the counter. The blond downs it without flinching and Ethan raises an eyebrow as a second appears and disappears in the same manner.
"Russian," is all the explanation Ethan receives. Go figure.
The blond swipes his tongue over his lips, "much better." He grins, leaning closer to Ethan. A flicker of... something... passes over his face, too quickly for Ethan to decode. Nerves, it must be.
—
In an instant reality crashes back down. Father's eyes land on his neck, and Toma's persona falters for just a moment. His only saving grace is how Ethan clearly likes him, more than a simple seduction. But next time he won't be so lucky. He can't fuck up again.
The water helped, giving his lips a more desirable look. Internally Toma can't help but laugh at the supposed agent's competency, not even noticing how the shots he took weren't vodka at all. Did someone else get sent in Ethan Hunt's place? Clearly this isn't the world renowned spy he was led to believe.
No matter, that makes his job that much easier. Toma grins as he runs his fingers over Ethan's arm, "can I buy you one in return?"
"I'll never turn down a drink from a handsome man." Perfect. Toma's got him right where he wants him.
He waves the bartender over, turning to Ethan, "what would you like handsome?"
"I'll take a Harvey Wallbanger please." The bartender nods and moves away to make it, giving them privacy.
Toma smirks, leaning close to whisper in Ethan's ear. "Good choice, I'd like to bang you against the wall later," he purrs, satisfied with the shiver and the hitch in Ethan's breath. "If you're into that sort of thing."
"I am," Ethan whispers back, turning his head to let Toma see the glitter of arousal in his eyes. "But I'm not that easy."
Of course not. But now Toma knows he has a way in, and he can't wait to strike. Especially when he actually wants to seduce this man, his charm alluring in its own way. Before he can get too close to climbing into his lap right away, the drink gets set in front of them, the bartender immediately moving away to serve the next guest.
Ethan brings the drink to his lips, taking a sip from it with a satisfied look crossing his face. "Good vodka."
"Well darling, you are in Russia." Toma teases, squeezing Ethan's bicep and giving an appreciative hum. There's the spy muscles he was wondering about. His stomach sinks, playing out the fantasy of being two new people looking for some fun was nice, but he has a job to do. He doesn't let any of that show, smile impeccable. "We know our vodka."
"Of course." Ethan nods his head and Toma pats his muscles again, letting his hand drop down to his forearm. The man brings his glass to his mouth again, not stopping until there's a quarter of what there was left in it. "Want some?"
Toma glances at the offered glass and shakes his head, turning his eyes to Ethan's lips. "I'd rather taste it from somewhere else."
It takes a moment for his words to register, and Toma takes great satisfaction in the way Ethan's cheeks dust with pink. And in the way Ethan's eyes flicker down towards his lips. Nothing someone normal would notice, but then again, Toma's never claimed to be normal.
Toma runs his fingers up Ethan's arm again, this time continuing past his shoulder. They ghost over his neck before two land under his chin, holding his head up. A moment later they sear their imprint into the side of his jaw, tilting his face towards his own.
"May I?" Toma whispers, giving the illusion of their own little world. Even though the hair on the back of his neck stands up, his father's eyes find their way towards him and break the charade.
A slight falter in Ethan makes him pause, but then he sees the calculating edge in his eyes. It's not because he doesn't want this- it's because he has a job to do. Toma simply will not let that stand.
Slowly, delicately, Toma brushes his lips against the spy's, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip to get a taste of the drink. Relieved to feel the vodka linger on his lips, barely enough to keep the impression of his shots. Just as he feels Ethan respond he pulls back, still close enough for their breaths to mingle.
"That's a good drink," Toma whispers, moving his fingers to the back of Ethan's neck, "but I think I need more to know if I like it."
"Be my guest." Ethan's eyes betray just how much he wants it. Satisfaction settles into Toma's veins, though he ensures his mask of innocence is impeccable.
Toma leans in again and this time, Ethan meets him eagerly. His lips are soft, the citrus a sharp but welcome contrast. Ethan's intoxicating. Toma immediately forces himself to focus- he cannot get drunk on him here. That's unacceptable.
It's nice though. It's very nice. Toma has kissed some terrible people for his father, but this one is infinitely better than any previous one. In a different life, in a better life, maybe they could have been lovers.
His tongue swipes across Ethan's lower lip and the spy parts his lips, letting Toma taste the citrus and vodka and something distinctly mouth. A soft sigh escapes the other man and Toma smiles against his lips, hand settling firmer against the back of his neck. The spy mirrors the hand, and he finds himself getting closer to Ethan, pressing against him while careful to not let his various tools make any contact with the man.
Clearly Ethan doesn't have the same inhibitions. The bulge at his hip in the wrong spot to be a sign of excitement.
Even in his working mindset Toma loses himself in the kiss, Ethan's touch making him want to float away. But the clearing of a throat beside him abruptly drags him back to the present. Glancing over, his eyes sharpen when he sees one of his father's lackeys, clearly sent to ensure he's doing his job.
Hair a mess and lips faintly red, puffed up and glistening, Toma eyes the lackey, giving him a look of understanding. Not even a second later the man's swallowed up by the crowd, and Toma returns his attention to Ethan.
"Care to take this somewhere more… private?" Toma murmurs, following it up with another gentle press of his lips.
Ethan smirks, and Toma allows a sliver of hunger to show through. That it's for having a plaything and not solely the sex, Ethan doesn't need to know. "Of course. Lead the way."
Toma slips down from the chair, taking Ethan by the wrist and pushing through the crowd. Most visitors part for him, but he makes quick work of subtly tripping those who didn't receive the message. Pushing aside a banner hiding a hallway and nodding to the guards, Toma pulls Ethan somewhere more secluded.
Walking through the stone hall, footsteps echoing off the halls, the noise from the gala fades away leaving them in a comfortable silence. It's a shame Ethan felt the need to break it, Toma thought they were really going somewhere.
—
For the first time, Ethan's almost reluctant to take down a target. Almost. The man's so naïve he could likely get him to take him to the auction without any violence necessary. But Ethan hasn't survived this long by taking chances.
Once he's sure there's no guards lurking about or cameras to watch him attacking the little kitten, Ethan strikes. He whirls to the side and snatches both of Toma's wrists, pretending like the shocked gasp doesn't make his cock twitch. Christ he can't be thinking like this- he has a job to do. One that doesn't involve doing Toma.
The blond squirms under him, trying to kick at his ankles in a futile struggle. It's a bit shocking, Ethan thought Toma would at least know some basic sense of self-defense considering who his father is, but that just makes his job easier. The flailing of limbs makes it a bit difficult to subdue him, but Ethan's had worse.
Slowly, very slowly, the fight leaves Toma's limbs. His struggles get weaker and weaker until they come to a stop, allowing Ethan to maneuver him face first against the wall, wrists behind his back with his legs parted. The contact sings between them, and Ethan can't pretend like he's standing closer to Toma than necessary to get more of it.
"Is that a gun or are you happy to have me under you?" Toma drawls, rolling his hips and pushing back so that the perfect ass of his presses right into the bulges at Ethan's groin. "Darling, if you wanted me against the wall, all you had to do was ask."
Ethan can't afford to get distracted. Even as his cock jumps in his pants at the contact, he pushes the arousal into a locked box in the back of his brain. "Where's your room?"
"You're lucky I like it rough." The blond purrs, and there's no way someone as innocent as him should be so filthy. Ethan bites back a groan- he has work to do. But maybe after…
Ethan allows himself another handful of seconds pressed into the blond before he pulls his hips away, marching Toma back to his room. Never letting go of his wrists, Ethan digs out the soft but sturdy rope tucked under his blazer. Sometimes he curses being a spy- the instant swell of arousal in Toma doesn't go unnoticed and makes his pants even more uncomfortable.
Steering Toma to the bed, Ethan pushes him back against it, crawling on top of him to straddle his hips while raising his wrists above his head. The blond grins and does a filthy little thing with his hips to leave Ethan aching even more- he didn't think that was possible.
"Well Ethan, you have me right where we both want me." Toma's eyes are blown wide with desire and hunger, and it takes all of Ethan's self control to not react. "What's your next move?"
Ethan breaks. He leans down to capture the blond's lips with his own, and in an instant Toma responds, making it even filthier. Moans fill the room, who they're from, Ethan doesn't know anymore. Hips roll and their crotches get shoved together, arousal building even higher.
With incredible difficulty, Ethan pulls back. He's too close to making a mess of his pants, and he can't afford to do that. Pointedly ignoring the flush on the blond's cheeks, reddened and puffed lips, and absolute need in his eyes, Ethan secures each wrist at opposite sides of the bed.
"My safeword is shpionazh, if you wanted to know."
…wait. Ethan stiffens, eyes widening the fraction of an inch. Shpionazh. Espionage. That's too close for comfort to be a coincidence. But… but there's no way Toma would know his real purpose. The hungry smirk on the blond's face makes a drip of tension leave his limbs, because of course it's a coincidence. Ethan's been careful. There's no way he would know his true purpose.
Securing the ropes around his wrists, in ways Ethan knows first hand are almost impossible to slip, he moves on to Toma's ankles. Making quick work of those too, he returns to the blond's hips, straddling them once more.
Ethan allows himself a few more moments of humping against his bulge, pleasure winning out over common sense, until he gets control of himself again and lifts himself up. The strangled gasp spilling from Toma's lips almost makes him give in again, but then Ethan reminds himself he's there for a reason, and that reason is not getting laid.
It'll blow his cover, but Ethan's sure Toma won't be going anywhere. Not with his limbs strung out in a way that'll make itself into Ethan's fantasies for years to come. So with reluctance slowing his motions, he digs his fingers into Toma's pocket, pulling out a keyring.
The blond's eyes widen and Ethan offers up a charming smile, eyes flooded with sympathy. It's not Toma's fault he got caught up in something too big for an innocent young man. As an apology, Ethan presses a kiss to his cheek, making him miss the cold and calculating look adorning the blond.
Ethan pulls back and stands, every cell in his body screaming at him to get off with the blond but his training is too strong to ignore. "I'm sorry it has to be this way Toma, it's nothing personal."
The reality of the situation seems to set in for the blond and his eyes widen, struggling against the ropes. Unfortunately for him, his attempts are as futile as they were in the hall. Ethan ignores the aching arousal running through him and twirls the keys on his fingers, pulling up the blueprints in his head dictating his next movements.
"Akh ty yebanaya shlyukha!" It takes Ethan a moment to translate and he can't help but smile, oh you fucking whore . In the blond's defense, he is left with a rather impressive bulge in his pants. But if anyone looked like the whore here, it would be him. All tied up like a present for Ethan to devour.
"I'll be back later," Ethan says apologetically before blowing Toma a kiss and slipping out the door. It's a relief to be dealing with a civilian, he doesn't need to have more layers of contingencies than an opera cake when subduing him.
A small part of him hopes Toma won't hold it against him, truly, it was for the job. But the blond's a kitten, he probably can't hold grudges for long. Ethan would just have to make up for it in bed. And he can definitely do that.
The next steps are more difficult. Sneaking into this auction is no easy feat. Guards upon guards standing in his way, the best of the best. It's a good thing Ethan's even better. Each step dictated by a twisted game of chess, it's not too long before Ethan calls checkmate.
Digging through the keys he lifted from Toma, he finally finds the one that matches the door to the basement. Opening and shutting it as silently as he can, Ethan descends the spiral staircase to a large room full of glass enclosures. By a stroke of luck, the room's empty, clearly the auction hadn't started yet.
On second thought, that's a lot harder. There's no crowd to blend into as he bides his time for an escape. Ethan shakes his head, pushing his sleeves up and taking out the glass cutter tucked into a hidden pocket of his blazer. Tool in hand, he makes his way to the safe in the middle of the room ensconced in bulletproof glass.
Steps silent against the marble floor, Ethan examines the glass for alarms before setting the cutter against the glass. Then a spot of pain against his neck.
"It's nothing personal," a familiar voice mutters against his ear.
His eyes widen and lethargic muscles attempt to fight off an attacker, only for his vision to pitch sideways and fade to black.
—
In the blackness, a string of consciousness appears and Ethan snatches the lifeline, forcing his body up and out of the abyss. Muscles spasming the moment he's able- something's wrong. Something is very wrong.
His arms and legs shudder but don't move. A pressure bites into the skin around his wrist and ankles as he tries to move them. His body thrashes against the… the bed. Why's he in a bed?
An invisible weight hits his face and Ethan forces his eyes open, clawing through the haze as reality crashes down on him. Sitting on the side of the bed is Toma, an ice cold stare piercing his defenses, looking right into his soul. He can piece it together, somehow the blond slipped the ropes and followed him without drawing attention and sunk his claws into him.
Really living up to the kitten thing.
Toma has a predatory grin, fingers trailing over Ethan's arms like eons ago at the bar. Against his better judgment, his arousal from earlier returns, a bit stiffer in his pants than he was a moment ago.
"...Toma? How did you escape?" Ethan asks, lifting his head to try and get on the same level. Something less vulnerable. "What happened?"
The blond gets up and stalks around the bed, fingers trailing all over Ethan's skin as he does. "How much do you know about Iceman?"
Oh- oh- fuck. Ethan's so fucked. Oh so very fucked. He's not going to make it out of this alive. How could the IMF have missed this?
Iceman. Tomas Kazanskiy. Before waking up, Ethan would laugh in the face of anyone who suggested the two were one in the same. Iceman is ruthless and ambitious, the largest growing arms and intel dealer the international stage has ever seen. Tomas Kazanskiy is innocent and pure, an oblivious boy to the dirty work his father does.
But now, watching Toma imitate the most deadly cat, things make sense. The power coiled in his limbs, how he's always ten steps ahead of anyone interacting with him. Ethan's fallen right into his trap. It shouldn't make him this hard.
Toma shakes his head, disappointment radiating off him in waves. Ethan hates how the guilt bubbles within him, all because he broke Toma's trust. "I thought we could have something Ethan Hunt, it's a pity you stuck your nose where it did not belong."
A hand rests in his hair, far too gentle for one that's taken so many lives. Against all better judgment, Ethan keens under the touch, leaning into something that feels way too comfortable for what it is. Too comfortable to come from someone like Iceman.
"Why couldn't you have just minded your own business?" Toma laments, "or targeted anything but that file?"
He leans closer to Ethan's face, cold lips pressing against his cheek with a rush of emotion behind it. Ethan identifies longing. Whether it's in his head or real, he's not sure. But it doesn't hurt to fantasize it was there. They press against the corner of his lips with more pressure, breath catching in Ethan's throat. As much as he desires to turn his head to have a proper kiss, he doesn't want to risk the Iceman's ire.
"I'll tell you a secret Ethan." Toma whispers against his ear, a shiver running down his spine. "I would've let you take any of the other items up for auction. Whichever you wanted, it would have been yours. I've always had a weakness for a pretty face..." Toma sighs, shaking his head, "alas, I couldn't have you compromising my intelligence."
The other hand, just as cold as the look in Toma's eyes, rests over Ethan's fluttering chest. It trails down his torso, making his abs flutter, coming to a stop right above where Ethan wants it. Where he needs it.
"It's a shame I'll have to kill you," the blond sighs, kissing the corner of his mouth again. "I hate wasting a pretty face, but you know my secret. You have to go."
The words make Ethan snap back to reality. About to be killed. Right. Not about to get laid. Ethan resumes his struggle against the ropes, but they're tight, tighter than when he tied Toma up. Clearly the other man isn't taking any chances of letting him lose.
Except there's a slight give. A surge of hope courses through him- maybe he won't die here tonight.
"Unless you have a reason for me to keep you alive, that is." Toma purrs, finally touching Ethan's bulge. Fuck that feels good.
Ethan gulps and his cock jumps, fully hard in an instant. Breathlessly, he borderline begs,"I can make it worth your while..."
Toma pauses, hand pressed too lightly to give any relief to his crotch. "I'm not going to kill you just because you say no, I'm not that messed up."
It's absolutely shameful the way Ethan wants it. It goes against every instinct in him, ever moral screaming in his mind, but the arousal drowns it out. The need cutting all his inhibitions loose.
Meeting his eyes, Ethan pointedly grinds into his hand, letting out a quiet moan and throwing his head back. "Please, Iceman , I want you. I want this."
Toma's eyes darken and he nods, pressing down more firmly against his crotch. It earns him another moan, shame and want dueling for control. Ethan wishes he could say it was a fight.
Ethan rolls his hips up, back arching as far as it can off the bed. His eyes close halfway at the pleasure, but he knows it's working. Drawing Toma's attention away from his fingers frantically clawing at the knots calling him a victim.
—
It's almost perfect. Almost.
Toma shakes his head, unsheathing his knife from his breast. Because he knows what he needs to do to make it irresistible. The flash of fear in Ethan's eyes brings a grin to his face, leaning down to brush their lips together. "Oh relax my toy, I won't hurt you." The yet implied. "You're too beautiful to ruin without me having my fun."
With a flick of his wrist Ethan's shirt falls away from his chest, the knife cutting it open and revealing a muscled torso littered with scars. Toma's mouth waters. He needs it.
Returning the knife to his sheath, Toma's fingers make quick work of the button and zipper on Ethan's pants, shoving them down to his ankles and letting the bulge spring free. The moan brings a hungry smirk to his lips, and finally, Toma can't ignore the aching arousal in his crotch. He's so hard he could cut steel.
Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Toma leans down to connect their lips in a filthy kiss, grinding down on Ethan's thigh. Turns out, all Ethan needed was a moment.
Suddenly flat on his back, Toma acknowledges that Ethan Hunt's reputation may not be as flawed as he once believed. Somehow, the ropes are along his wrists and ankles now, stringing him up along the length of the bed. A growl escapes his lips as he realizes he was bested, cock throbbing in his pants.
A playful smirk crosses Ethan's face and Toma leans up as far as he can to kiss the smug look away. Eyes hazy with arousal, Toma lets a bit of control slip and gives into his want. After all, there's not much else he can do.
Ethan grins and sits back on Toma's thighs, patting the matching bulge straining at Toma's zipper. He leans down to kiss him again, "either way you're leaving this alive, but do you want to finish what you started?"
"Oh baby, I always finish who I start." Voice sultry, Toma takes pride in the way Ethan moans and humps their crotches together.
Deft fingers make their way to Toma's chest, undoing the buttons on his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. In an instant their bare torsos are pushed together, hungry kisses exchanged with tongues battling in mouths as they fight for dominance. Even though Toma's tied down, he's not giving this up without a fight.
Soon the fingers undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down and leaving him in a mirroring situation of how he left Ethan a few minutes ago. At this point the kisses are more mouths panting against each other as they grind, desperation seeping into the motion of their hips.
"Do you have any lube? Condoms?" Ethan mutters against his lips, the tension between them too much to ignore.
"Top drawer," Toma pants, groaning against him as he rolls his hips in the way he knows drives Ethan wild.
Tragically, Ethan leaves him bare and straining against the ropes as he goes to fetch them, dropping a condom and bottle of lube next to him on the bed. A smirk crosses Toma's face, turning his knees out to spread his thighs invitingly. "Well? What are you waiting for Ethan."
"I'm going to make you cry," Ethan mutters, "you're going to beg for mercy by the time I'm done with you, kitten. Mark my words."
Against every single one of his instincts, Toma whimpers. He wants . It brings a smug look to Ethan's face, bringing his hand across the blond's cheek with a loud crack. The sting lingers, a matching one landing across his other cheek. Christ it's hot.
Hands burn against Toma's chest, and nails dig into each of his nipples. Arousal and pain mix in an explosion threatening to tear him to pieces as he can't decide whether he needs to arch into it or pull back. Ethan takes that choice away, holding the nubs even tighter at each attempt the blond makes to escape.
His hips rut up, struggling to get some hint of friction against him. Anything. But Ethan lifts himself up too far for him to get anything except a hint of warmth at the highest point of his attempt. "Not so fast there, kitten."
"Fuck you-" Toma growls and a hand covers his mouth, rough with calluses of a man making his living by getting his hands dirty. Naturally, he bites it.
Ethan yelps and Toma grins, the hand immediately removed and a sharp slap lands across his face. Worth it. Totally worth it.
A rip mixes with the quiet groans and Toma's eyes widen as he looks down, his knife in Ethan's hand that just cut through his underwear. His cock twitches as the tatters are peeled away from his skin, leaving him bare and aching. He needs.
The cold steel bites into his pecs, the flat of the blade pressed against a nipple while Ethan's warm mouth seals over the other. Fire and ice duel over his chest as Toma lays there helpless, desperate whimpers falling from his lips. Both so cruel. Neither giving him anything towards the release he needs more than breathing.
For the first time in his life. Toma's surroundings fade away. His world narrows down to the intensities against his nipples, the not nearly enough pressure on his dick just to take the worst of the edge off but still leaving him dripping and aching. At some point wetness lands on his cheeks. Toma doesn't know how that happened.
What could be seconds or an hour later, his abused nipples are let go of, both puffy and red, standing out against the paleness of his skin. Ethan straddles his hips, twirling the knife between his fingers. It's beautiful. Toma craves the fingers in him, splitting him open.
But then the agony returns. Toma cries out, muscles tensed under the bulk of the spy. The fire and ice switch places, knife and mouth so cruel but oh so incredible. The emptiness within him makes itself known even more, and loathe as he is to admit it, Ethan's the only one who can fill it for him.
Somehow the spy knows about the craving taking over every part of Toma's mind. Escape isn't an option anymore, not without being satisfied in the way both of them need. But Ethan doesn't give in, pushing him towards the breaking point between pleasure and pain. Toma's cheeks just get wetter. So does the head of his cock.
Locked in a stalemate, neither want to tell the other how much they need it. Both of them knowing doesn't change a thing. It's a matter of who breaks first. As disgraced as Toma is, he thinks he might. Torture him with physical harm and no sounds will pass his lips, but set Ethan Hunt on his nipples working them raw, and he'll cry. God he's pathetic.
Finally it's too much. Toma needs. He aches. He's so empty. So desperate.
"P-please..." breathless, it's barely audible even to his own ears. But Ethan hears. Of course he does.
Pulling away, Ethan smirks up at him, "what was that kitten?"
"Please," Toma whispers, a fraction louder. Face burning as shame courses through his body, dick redder than it's ever been. "Please."
"Please what? You need to use your words for me, otherwise how can I know what you want?"
It's the worst situation Toma's ever been in. His oh so carefully constructed control vaporizing under the heat of another body, every nerve on fire yelling at him to do something to fix it. Biting his lip, he refuses. But then Ethan's mouth is back on the nipple singing pain, teeth tearing at it, and he breaks.
Tears stream down his cheeks as Toma gasps, writhing under Ethan as fingers work at the ropes holding his wrists down. "Please fuck me!" He cries, "I need it, fuck me Ethan!"
In an instant the knife and mouth are gone, blade discarded off the side of the bed and man sitting up on his thighs. "All you had to do was ask kitten."
A withering glare is shot towards the spy but it's futile, not doing anything to dislodge the smug look. "Told you I'd make you cry."
That's it. Ethan's dead when Toma can get his hands on him. A low growl rises in his chest only to be beaten back by a harsh slap to his face, "that's not very nice kitten, show some respect."
The words only make Toma growl louder, another slap landing against his other cheek.
Toma snarls. This time, the retaliating slap cracks across the shaft of his cock. Eyes widening in shock, it takes a split second before the pain sets in.
All encompassing agony, it engulfs all of Toma's senses. He doesn't even know why his cock is throbbing anymore. A sob rips from his throat as the tears get larger against his cheeks, "Ethan..."
Another slap. He almost screams. But at the last moment Toma manages to hold it in, refusing to give Ethan that satisfaction. Ethan almost looks disappointed.
Suddenly, a cold finger makes its way between his asscheeks, relentlessly pushing into him. It's not nearly slow enough for how long it's been since Toma's been filled in this way but it's exactly what he needs. Torn between pushing down against it and squirming away, Ethan doesn't let him pick. His world shrinks again, now to the one point of pressure.
Skillful fingers grip Toma's balls and nails press into them, and his hips spasm off the bed with his head tipping back in a silent scream. He hates how he can feel the waves of smugness coming off Ethan at his reactions. But he doesn't have the discipline left to control them. Not anymore.
Too soon a second finger joins the first, tearing Toma open. Of course he knows he can take it, has taken it in the past and this is no different, yet it's so much more. It's not so much his body as his soul that's ripping apart, Ethan entering both, one much more willingly than the other.
His cock throbs, wet spot against his stomach growing into a small puddle with how needy he is. Especially when the fingers press against that spot inside him that makes him see stars, pleasure engulfing him and making his vision turn black around the edges.
"You like that kitten?" Ethan asks, pushing against it harder. Toma's thighs flex from the unrelenting pressure, balls drawing up towards his body.
The fingernails pushing hard into his balls, leaving what's sure to be deep red half-moons in his delicate skin, don't stop the heat from rushing into his groin. Toma's eyes fly wide open in panic- no- not like this- no-
Forcing his eyes towards Ethan presents an odd sight. Toma never expected to see worry on his face. "Kitten? Is this a shpionazh moment?"
Shpionazh... shpionazh...
Right. Toma's thrown back towards a simpler time, back when they weren't entangled in a web neither can escape. But no. As much as he hates it, Toma craves it. And at this point, he doesn't think Ethan stopping would stop the inevitable.
A shake of the head sets Ethan back on his relentless mission, fingers poking at his prostate harder and rubbing against it. And there it is.
A loud scream of pleasure tears free as all the muscles in Toma's body lock up, practically flying up off the mattress as the heat spreads to every cell of his body. Cum coats his stomach, shooting up past his abused nipples to his neck. He's never came so hard in his life .
The pressure doesn't stop. Fuck why isn't it stopping . His balls and cock throb, Ethan's nails only digging in deeper. Toma tries kicking but the ropes don't let him, and struggling only shifts his hips to rub his prostate more. He sags against the bonds, eyes closed as he pants hard and rides out the wave.
Except Ethan doesn't let him. No, he pushes in a third finger, nerves on fire that just gets stoked by the additional stretch. Toma gasps and thrashes as much as he can, growling and spitting insults in five different languages at the spy.
It only brings a slap down hard on his balls, nerves singing in pain. Another lands on his cock, and they alternate until each word Toma spoke has a response. The tears keep coming but Toma refuses to speak again.
"So you can learn," Ethan muses, "that's good to know."
Biting his lip hard enough for the metallic taste to coat his tongue, Toma refuses to answer. The red drips down the corner of his mouth, drawing Ethan's gaze. The spy grins and pulls himself up, tongue lazily cleaning up the crimson spread across his face. Toma shudders, lip spilling more out that gets lapped up by the predator above him.
His cock throbs, shouting at him to make it stop . But Toma refuses to give in, to lower himself to beg, instead battling his limbs into submission. Because he won't let Ethan have the satisfaction of taking him apart.
—
The blond's delectable, Ethan wishes he could devour him. To rip him apart and put him back together again.
The closest he can get to that is to fuck him. To be as close as humanly possible while he breaks through all of his meticulous control. So that's what he's going to do.
Ethan rubs at the blond's prostate until his dick's red and hard again, Toma writhing with his mouth open in silent cries Ethan's determined to make him vocalize. And what Ethan Hunt wants, Ethan Hunt gets. No exceptions.
The blond's absolutely beautiful spread out like this, painfully red nipples and lips blending into the pink flush of his cheeks and torso in a gorgeous contrast to the white remnants of his orgasm. Ethan wishes he could take a picture. Many pictures. But he's not got a camera close enough to use, so he saves it to his memory instead.
His eyes open and Ethan sees the most human desires Toma has ever expressed. For once his emotions not frozen over in a six foot layer of ice- the blazing hot need radiating from his eyes almost melts Ethan's resolve. Almost.
"What is it kitten?" Ethan purrs, crooking his fingers to jab at the man's swollen prostate even harder. "You need something? You'll have to beg for it."
Defiance sparks in Toma's eyes but is soon devoured by lust. As much as the blond wants to hold out, he won't be for very much longer. Ethan can't wait until he gives in. He's so hard he's almost lightheaded, all the blood gone down to his crotch.
Iceman doesn't seem so ice cold anymore, not once Ethan's made him human again. If he were asked even an hour ago if he ever thought he'd have the Iceman a victim to his whims, Ethan would wonder what drugs they were on. But now… he feels like the one on drugs, riding the high of watching the blond cry.
Toma's mouth opens and closes in quick succession as Ethan rubs on his prostate more, scraping his nails along his delicate shaft and digging them into the velvety soft head. His dick's so red, it's beautiful.
"Fuck me-" Toma commands, "fuck me already."
Well that won't do. Ethan shakes his head, bringing his hand down on his cock as hard as he can without breaking it.
Something else breaks.
Toma screams.
It's music to his ears.
"I said beg ." Ethan orders, laying the next slap against his balls. Another scream erupts from the blond and Ethan moans, cock spewing precum in his underwear. "Beg!"
Another shake of the head but Ethan knows Toma's close to giving in. He slaps his dick again, angling his fingers to ensure maximum sting on the sensitive head.
"Please-" Toma screams, voice cracking at the end. Ethan groans and his back arches, arousal burning even hotter. "Please Ethan-"
"Please what?" Ethan taunts, "what do you want kitten?"
The blond's just as hard as him, leaking against his stomach again. Ethan wishes he could keep him, he would make such a good pet.
"Please…" the words are softer now, Toma's breath hitching as he sobs. "Please stop, please fuck me, please give me your cock, please- I need it- need it so bad-"
Ethan runs his hand through his hair with as much tenderness as he can muster, pulling on it at the end. "Of course my kitten, all you had to do was beg."
His fingers press against Toma's prostate for a long moment before he withdraws them, eyeing how his hole flutters from the loss. Ethan grins and brings his hand down against it hard, drawing a loud gasp and whimper from Toma. He needs to hear that again.
So he slaps it again and again until it's bright red and clenching around nothing and Ethan's too hard to ignore. Toma's reduced to whining and silently sobbing and Ethan grins, pressing a feather light kiss to his cheek. At the same time, he pushes his underwear down and tears open the condom wrapper, rolling it along his aching shaft.
A moment later, Ethan's pushing into the tightest heat he's ever felt. A groan escapes as he bottoms out, amazed he didn't break Toma. Under him, the blond sobs, a glance at his rubbed raw wrists revealing just how much he's been fighting it. It's perfect.
As soon as he bottoms out Ethan draws back until just the tip's still in Toma. The hole flutters and clenches down around him, letting loose an appreciative moan. He waits there until the blond starts squirming around more before he thrusts his hips forward, almost pulling out once more.
"Ethan- please- fuck me- fuck me properly- Ethan- I need it- fuck me!" Toma begs, breaking faster than Ethan expected but it tastes so sweet. Music to his ears.
How can Ethan say no to that?
So he obeys, thrusting his hips as fast and hard as he can. His fingers dig into Toma's hips, leaving dark purple marks behind, so he can get the leverage he needs. The blond pants under him, too breathless to even moan. No matter, Ethan's groaning enough for the both of them.
Hauling Toma into a better position, he's sure the ropes are biting into his skin in the worst way. But the blond doesn't care, doesn't even acknowledge anything but Ethan. As he should. Toma shouldn't be thinking of anything but Ethan's cock.
After a little while of experimenting, Ethan finally finds the best angle to make Toma cry. The tears spill as Ethan pushes right against his prostate, removing one hand from his hip to strike his cock with each spark of pleasure. He looks so perfect all broken.
Heat pools in his groin as Ethan fucks Toma within a centimeter of his life, but Ethan clamps down on it. As much as he'd love to cum, he has one last plan stopping him from doing so. His nails dig into Toma's shaft again, scratching down it and leaving raised bits of skin behind. He tightens around him from the pain- it feels heavenly.
"I can't- Ethan-" Toma cries, hole spasming around his cock with each additional spark of pain. But the moans mixing with his words do nothing to discourage Ethan.
The blond's cock is a pretty mix of red and faint purple from his hits but it doesn't stop it from glistening with precum after each of them. So Ethan doesn't stop. It's just a shame he can't attack his nipples too.
Well. Ethan does have a set of teeth not in use…
So he leans down, changing the angle to push in deeper and taking pleasure in the spark of fear he sees in Toma's eyes when he realizes Ethan's target. His mouth closes around one of the puffy nipples, sucking on it and scraping his teeth over it before leaving a ring of marks around it.
The sobs get louder and more intense but Ethan doesn't relent- the blond doesn't deserve it. Instead he bites down harder, not even giving him the relief of his tongue chasing away the sting. Because someone like the Iceman doesn't deserve it.
Ethan doesn't stop until they escalate into screams, and even that's only when the screams tear at Toma's throat. When they echo around the room like someone being tortured. Ethan would know.
With a grin of satisfaction Ethan spares a glance at the tear-stained, desperate, and agonized look on Toma's face before turning his attention to the other nipple. Clearly the blond knows his target, the way he thrashes about getting more frantic, but it only encourages him.
His teeth bite down, practically feasting on his skin.
Toma screams.
Ethan slaps his cock with as much force as he can muster.
Something sticky and wet shoots between them.
Ethan pulls back and looks down at the evidence of how much Toma loves it.
A grin crosses his lips as the man under him heaves, frantically drawing in breath.
—
Every single nerve aflame, Toma screams until his voice gives out. The worst part of having a soundproofed room- no one notices. But Christ, he doesn't want Ethan to stop. But he needs him to stop.
He doesn't know what he'd do with himself if he stopped. Not now.
The thrusts never stop. In an instant he's desperately pulling at his bonds, overstimulation gripping him even tighter and pulling him apart. Each time the spy's cock hits his prostate it's the worst agony he's ever felt before. He can't.
But with the pain comes the most pleasure he's experienced in his life. Way past cloud nine, Toma's in utter bliss.
It was a nice lay, the best of his life. But he can't forget who's brought him this life changing pleasure.
Maybe in a different life they could always have this. Ethan's a natural after all, knowing exactly what to do to make Toma's body sing. He desperately wishes this were one of those.
"Ethan- please- mercy-" Toma gasps, unrelenting thrusts against his prostate and nails biting into his balls turning his brain to mush. He can't have that.
"You want me to cum kitten? Finally give you relief?" Ethan moans at each pained twitch and whine spilling from his lips, so Toma plays them up.
"Yes- fuck yes- mercy- please-" Toma whimpers, eyes fluttering and pain shining past the tears as he makes eye contact with the spy.
A moment later, Ethan spills into the condom, loud groans filling the room. Toma clenches down around him to prolong it, to make the spy's brain haze over even more with pleasure. Ethan moans and grinds into him, turning the fire in his nerves up past twenty, but Toma doesn't relent. Not to give Ethan a taste of the agony he suffered at his hand.
The spy pants hard and leans up to crush their lips together, one Toma eagerly returns. Kissed within an inch of his life, Ethan pulls back, patting Toma's cum streaked cheek.
A smile too soft for the moment dances across his lips, "this was fun Toma. If I see you again, I'd love a repeat of tonight."
Toma closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Ethan's lips atop his own. Before he gets to work. Pushing the feelings down, the longing for this again, the way he craves Ethan. He's addicted- he has to cut himself off.
The spy kisses him again, a farewell this time, before gathering his clothes from the floor. He turns away from the bed to look in the mirror, retying his tie and straightening his hair out.
A shot rings through the room.
Toma sits up in bed, smoking gun in his hand with an apologetic look in his eyes as he looks down at Ethan. "It's nothing personal Ethan, I assure you. You were the best lay I've ever had."
He undoes the ropes at his ankles, elegantly rising from the bed and stalking towards the corpse. He presses a kiss to the still warm forehead, delicately carting his fingers through his hair.
"But work's work, and I don't lose."