[ silva matches him look for look, the deadness in his eyes flickering with something akin to annoyance, but not enough to dim the crooked edge of a smile, the smallest curve of the lips. ]
You've been taking orders for years. Or have you forgotten who you work for?
[ of course it's personal—it's the most personal thing silva's ever done, something that's taken years to come to fruition. and it's not just about m anymore. no, there are little threads, little connecting pieces that all fit together; aren't there always? it's about bond too, it's about them both, about the brother he never had, the brother who isn't his and never was; the anti-him, the shadow. this isn't just some dalliance in a hotel room, forgotten the next day over a glass of scotch or brandy. silva doesn't do meaningless things. he did away with frivolities a long time ago.
sharply, he watches bond's tongue, the darting pink tip of it as it draws over his bottom lip, his cock twitching noticeably at the image of it. slowly, he brings his hands up to his own waistcoat, beginning to unbutton it in wordless, challenging acquiescence. the biting edge of his shoe presses down hard against bond in sadistic encouragement.
no subject
You've been taking orders for years. Or have you forgotten who you work for?
[ of course it's personal—it's the most personal thing silva's ever done, something that's taken years to come to fruition. and it's not just about m anymore. no, there are little threads, little connecting pieces that all fit together; aren't there always? it's about bond too, it's about them both, about the brother he never had, the brother who isn't his and never was; the anti-him, the shadow. this isn't just some dalliance in a hotel room, forgotten the next day over a glass of scotch or brandy. silva doesn't do meaningless things. he did away with frivolities a long time ago.
sharply, he watches bond's tongue, the darting pink tip of it as it draws over his bottom lip, his cock twitching noticeably at the image of it. slowly, he brings his hands up to his own waistcoat, beginning to unbutton it in wordless, challenging acquiescence. the biting edge of his shoe presses down hard against bond in sadistic encouragement.
give a little, get. ]
On the bed, James.