“Ugh. He’s even worse in real life.”
“Stay on target, Aphrodite.” Ethan watches from the far side of the bar as Jane glides effortlessly in 5 inch heels towards the mark. She shoots him the quickest glance, a millisecond, if that, but it’s a one sided conversation that most definitely ends with a hearty “fuck you.”
“Oh, damn. He is hideous! Can’t he get that thing removed? He just made 5 billion in illegal arms trading. You’d think he could afford to get that fixed!”
"Mercury, you’re not helping. If you can’t say something nice....” But Benji is right, after all. The man looks like he lost a fight with a combine harvester and went back for a few rounds after that, but he knows where the weapons are headed and IMF sent his team in to find out and according to his dossier, he borders on being anti-social and, despite his appearance, he’s quite picky about who he lets into his bed.
A tray of champagne flutes appears and Jane downs a glass, letting the taste burn, hoping that enough alcohol will coat her lips long enough to kill off anything this guy might have should it get that far. And please, God, don’t let it get that far.
“Alright. I’m going in.” She bites her lip and glances toward her mark, who is casually licking his dinner off thick, meaty fingers. She doesn’t mean for the sound that comes out to be audible over the comm. She’s always known this type of op was a possibility, but she’d secretly hoped it would be Ethan or Will who would get the ugly mark first.
“Fall back, Aphrodite.” It’s Brandt, watching from the safe room with Benji.
“Care to explain yourself, Bacchus? We don’t have all night here.” She wonders if Ethan is more pissed off that Will’s wasting time or giving orders.
“She’s no good like this, Jupiter. What do you want here? A delay or a mission failure? If she doesn’t play this right, we’re walking out of here empty-handed or worse.”
“What do you suggest, Bacchus? You want to sub in and take over?”
“Give me a few, Jupiter. I think I can help. Just stay quiet. Now, fall back, Aphrodite.”
Jane thinks she can just about hear Ethan’s eyebrow raise over the comm, but she follows Will nonetheless, replacing her empty flute with a full one and retreating to a darkened corner where she can see both Ethan and the mark.
Ethan is boring holes into her, nursing a glass of scotch with a scowl. “This better be good, Bacchus. You have five minutes.”
“Acknowledged, Jupiter.” Will takes a long, deep breath. “Aphrodite. Do you remember Sri Lanka?” Jane breathed in. “No, don’t. Just listen. Do you remember that dress, Aphrodite? When we were in the hotel and Jupiter and Mercury were setting up the comm link and security feed? And you walked out with the back unzipped and you asked me to help you? God, Aphrodite, your skin. I wanted to touch it so badly. I wanted to slide my hand beneath the fabric and take you right back out of that dress.
Wanted to back you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you until you moaned into my mouth, free your breasts and make you moan even louder when I touched them. I saw the goosebumps when I zipped you up. Was it when I was touching your neck? Because I would bite it, right there. Right where my hand was. Not hard, just enough to leave a mark so you’ll remember what I did to you when you see it. I’d lick over to where it meets your shoulder, reaching around to feel how hard your nipples are. And I’d want to hear some more from you. Like you can’t breathe, but you need to. But before you can take that breath I would press into you, right into the small of your back. You’d feel how hard I am for you, how crazy I am to be deep inside you.”
Will is vaguely aware that Benji is still in the room. He’s deadly silent save the frantic scribbling of pen on paper and the occasional mumbled repetition of what Will had just said.
“You want that, Aphrodite? Me inside you? I wouldn’t let you have it that easily, though. No, I’d want you falling apart before that. I’d turn you around, face to face, finally feel the heat in your mouth, want you teasing me with what that tongue could do. I’d reach down and feel how wet you are for me, how much you need me inside you.”
He looks to the feed, to Jane, sitting in the corner with a tight grip on the flute. He can hear her breath since he’s paused and it’s faster, shallower. Even from 20 feet away, the camera picks up her chest rising and falling.
“I know you’d want me in you. But I know you, Aphrodite. You never rush into things. Not until we’re both begging for it. You wouldn’t want it to be over any faster than I would, would you? No. You’d push me to the bed, let me lay on top of you. You need the heat of me, the feel of me on you, even through my clothes. You’d get me so worked up. Absolutely insane. Just...need to touch, need to taste. I’d get you fully naked, spread you out, and make you come with my tongue first. Lick you...right there...until you cry out. Kiss you so we can both taste how you feel for me. God, I’d be dying by then, wouldn’t I? Would you let me suffer any longer?”
Jane bites her lip and spares a glance at Ethan who is downing his scotch, obviously not immune to what he’s hearing. She can’t deny it’s turning her on to no end. The heat curls down low, rising to a rushing tingle at the top of her head.
“Would you, Aphrodite? I’d be your slave for the chance to slide inside you then. I don’t think I’d have the mental capacity to undress by then. Would you undress me? Run your hands over me as my clothes come off, scratch my skin when you lose control because it’s not happening fast enough? Oh, it’s worth the wait, though. I’d guide myself into you, slowly. Savouring every inch I go in, the feel, how tight, how wet, every noise you make, but I know, Aphrodite, I know I can’t stay like that. You’d just feel too good. I’d thrust into you, hard. Over and over. I can feel your nails on my skin. I’d look at those marks later and touch myself just thinking of what we did.”
Jane can’t breathe now. She knows she’s flushing, eyes dark with arousal. Brandt better make good on this later. Nothing worse than a woman aroused and armed.
“I’d want to last longer, last all night, but they way you’d move your hips, the way you cry out when you come, I’d come hard, so hard, it would feel so good, I’d collapse on top of you, our sweat-soaked bodies so warm and slippery, but I’d hold you so I could stay in you as long as I could. Would you like that? Lay my head on your chest until I’m ready again, licking and kissing your breasts, feeling the little aftershocks as you tighten around me. God, I’d risk hell and hanging to get inside you every night like that. Aphrodite, tell me, are you back on target now?”
Jane takes a deep breath and stands, shakily, and looks to her mark. “I’m going in. Five by five.”
Will switches off his comm and looks to Benji, who is scribbling so fast his pen might catch fire. “...licking...and kissing--”
“Benji! Focus, man. She’s going in.” Will smiles in spite of himself. Someone is going to get the pick-up line of their life once Benji is off-duty tonight.
“--What? Yes. Going in. Got it. Holy shit, Brandt. How did you--where did you--teach me, oh, my master.” Benji actually pulls a tiny “I’m not worthy” worshipping bow and Will chuckles.
“Let’s get this out of the way and I’ll teach you everything I know, young Padawan.”
Ethan watches Jane saunter over to the mark, her hips give an unmistakable sway and it’s mesmerising not only to Ethan, but it seems the mark is taking the bait. She has become every bit the seductress they need and he falls for it hook, line, and sinker, and within the hour, the mission has gone from impossible to accomplished, without anything worse than a kiss, faster than any one of them had thought possible.
Two hours later, intel securely in IMF’s hands, teams dispatched to intercept and clean up, Benji and a notebook of dirty talking notes heading to the bar, and Ethan taking a cold shower (a VERY cold shower), and Brandt is in his hotel room in sweats, still keyed up (of course it affected him. He wasn’t exactly making it up as he went along) and doing push ups to try to focus on anything else, ANYTHING else.
A knock on the door disrupts his almost mantra-like inner monologue of baseball stats and French verb conjugations. He slicks back his sweaty hair with a hand.
It’s Jane. Even better (worse?), it’s Jane wearing the same tight dress she had been wearing that night in Sri Lanka. The corner of her mouth quirks up and she turns around.
“Will, could you give me a hand here? I can’t seem to zip this thing up.”
Will’s eyes go wide as the realisation hits him. She pushes past him and closes the door behind them.