Fic, Sublimation, 15

[fredbassett]

Title : Sublimation
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Alex Rider
Rating : 15
Characters : Marcus, Hill, Alex
Disclaimer : Not mine (and Marcus and Hill bellowing to pongnosis), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : After an intense afternoon at work, the commanders of teams Sagitta and Danube get drunk and indulge in some stress relief.
A/N : A sort of sequel to Don’t Panic, set in pongnosis' The Devil and the Deep Blue sea 'verse.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Hill slumped into an armchair and stretched his legs out, head tipped back, eyes closed.

Marcus tossed him a cold beer. “Mad fuckers, the pair of them.”

Hill caught the can with his eyes still closed, ripped off the tab and downed it in four long swallows before throwing it accurately at a wastepaper bin.

He held his hand out for another. Marcus obliged.

“Gregorovich is normally fairly sane, but your boy …”

Marcus grinned. “He does like blowing shit up.”

“No, mate, he really, really likes blowing shit up. Kid’s got an indecently close relationship with bang.”

“He thinks it makes a good distraction.”

“He’s right. And the French probably won’t miss an ugly chateau, they’ve got enough of the damn things. I’m just glad Cossack refused to let him near the Milau Bridge.”

“That bridge is fucking amazing. Even Alex isn’t that much of a philistine.”

“No, but Orion is.”

The two commanders shared a moment of quiet amusement, then went back to the serious business of getting rat-arsed, switching to bottles of strong Belgian beer after downing three cans each just to slake the thirst of a hot afternoon’s work sending a message to one of SCORPIA’s competitors who’d had the temerity to tread on the wrong toes not once, not twice, but three times, which sure as hell hadn’t been lucky for them. It was rare for Cossack to go into the field these days, but rumour had it that the score they’d gone to settle had been personal in some way that no one had mustered the nerve to ask about.

Some quality sniping by Shale and Jarek had got them past the perimeter guards quickly, but the protection detail had been stiffer opposition and a damn sight more numerous than the intel had led them to believe, meaning that some hasty improvisation had been needed.

Adams had taken a round through the thigh – a straight in and out that had missed any major blood vessels – and two members of Danube had copped for minor injuries, including a dislocated shoulder and a nasty concussion. Nothing needing medevac, and they were all now currently letting off steam in a very safe safe house three hour’s drive away from the site of Alex’s latest pyromaniac tendencies, somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere in the French countryside surrounded by trees. A metric fuckton of trees.

Cossack and Orion, now Mr Gregorovich and Alex again, had settled comfortably on loungers by an enormous pool.

When Hill had last looked before handing over to his second for the rest of the evening, Alex was sprawled out on his stomach wearing nothing more than a pair of damp swim shorts, fast asleep, while his boss was working on his laptop, sipping a chilled white wine.

“Reckon the kid’s sublimating.”

Marcus blinked, puzzled. “What the fuck’re you on about?”

“Sublimating. Blowing stuff up instead of shagging.”

“He’s too young for shagging.”

“He’s 16, for chrissake. How old were you when you started dicking girls?”

“Fourteen,” Marcus admitted.

“Precocious.”

“They liked my big dick.”

Hill flipped him the finger. “What makes you think your dick’s that big?”

“You’ve seen it, you tell me …”

“You get a hard on in combat more than anyone I know.”

“Why do think I like babysitting Alex?”

“Because he’s not afraid to blow the budget on a bunker buster so you can get your rocks off.”

“And he went head-to-head with Kurst for me and the lads.”

“Yeah, there’s that, too,” Hill acknowledged. “Not many would have done that.”

They downed their beers and grabbed two more.

“Mind if I wank?” Marcus asked.

“Still hard from this afternoon?”

“Nah, got off fine in that last firefight. I just fancy a wank.”

“Now who’s sublimating?”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Look it up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes to the wank.”

“Just surprised you bothered to ask.”

“Good manners.”

Hill laughed. “Tell that to the fucker you shot in the face.”

“He’d just put one through Adams’ leg. Didn’t think I owed him anything other than a face full of lead.”

“Neat shot, especially at that range. Even the boss looked impressed.”

Marcus unzipped his loose black combat trousers and fished out his half-hard cock. It was hot and heavy his hand as he stroked himself to full hardness.

“It’s not small, I’ll grant you that,” Hill remarked.

“Jesus, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Since when have you needed confidence?”

Marcus closed his eyes, enjoying the drag of his callused palm over the taut skin of his dick. Impressing Cossack with a tricky shot had been the icing on a very pleasant cake that afternoon. For someone who had always thought of himself as being very, very straight, Marcus had to admit that in combat – and the rest of the time – their boss was fucking attractive. Something about the man’s predatory grace and ruthless practicality went straight to Marcus’ dick every time,

“Looks like you and Alex have got something else in common as well as a liking for blowing shit up,” Hill remarked.

Marcus opened his eyes, hand still lazily fisting his hard cock. “Mmm?”

“Having the hots for Cossack.”

Marcus’ cock pulsed in his hand as a jolt of adrenaline shot through his system. Thick come splattered the hard muscle of his stomach where his teeshirt had ridden up. He lifted his sticky hand and flipped Hill the finger.

“On a hair trigger where the boss is concerned, aren’t you, mate?” Hill didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

Marcus pulled the rag he used for cleaning his guns from his pocket and wiped the come off his hand and stomach.

“So how come you’ve got a hard-on?” Marcus challenged. “Getting off watching me wank or thinking about the boss in action?”

“I’m straight. And I don’t fancy you. ” Hill fished his own hard cock out of his pants and drizzled a small amount of gun oil from the bottle he kept in his tactical vest onto his palm, using that to slick the slow drag from root to tip.

“So what? So am I. And for the record, I don’t fancy you, either. Just as long as you don’t start jerking off over Alex …” A note of warning crept into Marcus’ tone.

Hill’s half-closed eyes shot open. “Alex is a kid!”

“Orion isn’t.”

“Orion’s almost as terrifying as Gregorovich when he puts his mind to it. My dick’s staying in my pants where he’s concerned. I haven’t got a fucking death wish.”

“Good, because I’d hate to have to cut it off and feed it to you in a bun with mustard on top.”

Hill rolled his eyes. “Fucking hell, with you and Cossack riding shotgun, the kid’ll never get laid.”

“Who’ll never get laid?” Alex demanded walking in without knocking, blond hair rumpled and still damp from the pool.

“Marcus,” Hill lied smoothly, ignoring the fact that he’d just come over his hand.

Alex rolled his eyes, not even slightly fazed by the sight. “I’m not deaf.”

“And you’ve not learned to knock,” Marcus commented,

“Seen you jerking off before.”

“Hill’s more delicate than I am. He might be embarrassed. He knows fancy words, too.”

“He doesn’t look embarrassed. Though Yassen said you were that time in the panic room …”

“You little shit!”

“That’s Little Boss Shit to you, commander.”

“What time in the panic room?” Hill demanded as he wiped his sticky hand on his trousers and tucked himself away.

“Marcus’ll tell you,” Alex said with a grin that was part teenager, part heir to Scorpia, and all mischief.

“What were you doing in the panic room to be embarrassed about?” Hill teased. “You can tell me, I won’t pass it on.”

“Lying bastard.”

“Of course. Now what were you doing in the panic room with Mr …”

“Sublimating,” Marcus groaned, as the memory of Cossack’s cool, amused eyes started to get him hard again.

He was never fucking going to hear the last of this.