rivers_bend

Title: The Cell
Author: River
Fandom: Alias (Jack/Vaughn)
Rating: NC-17 (BDSM and breath-play)
Words: ~1,200
Summary: PWP up against the wall sex. Written for the ridiculously hot Wallsmut Fic Challenge Sequel to Stay away from Sydney

Thank you again to karaokegal for her enthusiasm and beta skills.



Michael couldn’t get the storage locker out of his head. Every time Jack walked past him in the office he wanted to sink to his knees.

Vaughn felt the air prickle behind him and he knew Jack was standing there. “Agent Vaughn.”

“Sir?” Michael hated that the whisper of need made even that tiny word shake.

“I need you to come see a prisoner with me.”

“Of course. Sir.” The need surer this time. Naked. Michael knew that the message he was trying to send – that he remembered the last time he’d called Jack ‘sir’ – was getting through when he saw that twitch at the corner of Jack’s mouth again. It was all Michael could do not to grin in return.

The guard let them through the security doors. Jack led the way down a series of corridors and unlocked one of the small windowless cells that usually housed the more incorrigible prisoners. Though Jack had remained steadfastly silent in the face of Vaughn’s questions as to the identity of the prisoner, Michael was still surprised to see the room was unoccupied. Jack closed the door behind them.


”I thought…” Michael wished back the words when he saw Jack’s disapproval.

“Don’t think Vaughn.” Jack pushed Michael up against the cold metal of the door. Vaughn, who had spent the last two weeks jacking off to thoughts of Jack holding him against the wall of the storage locker and kissing him, stiffened at the feel of Jack's hands and the steel at his back.

Jack’s thigh was between his legs, his fingers were tangled in Vaughn’s hair, holding him still. He moved closer, making Michael’s breath catch. Vaughn’s lips parted, anticipating the kiss he had been fantasizing about, but instead Jack’s teeth sank into Michael’s neck where it curved above the crisp white of his collar.

“Jack…” Michaels voice was raw with desire. “Kiss me, please.” Suddenly Jack’s hand was around Vaughn’s throat, with just enough pressure to make his heart race. Jack’s lips were on his, hard, bruising, and even better than his memories of last time. Vaughn sighed, mouth opening to draw in Jack’s tongue.

Michael’s hands moved over Jack’s back, hungry, pulling the agent closer. He revelled in the feel of the muscles moving under the fine wool, while part of him longed to feel his hands pinned again, over his head, as Jack thrust against him.

As though he could read Vaughn’s mind, the hand that wasn’t alternately squeezing and caressing Michael’s throat grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the door above his head. Michael moved his other hand up without being told. Jack released him long enough to allow him to cross his wrists together and then effortlessly held both arms with one hand.

“Yes.” Michael sighed into Jack’s mouth.

The hand on his throat moved to undo Michael’s belt. Vaughn’s hips bucked involuntarily in response. One handed, Jack pushed Vaughn’s slacks and boxers down over his hips and thighs. Michael shifted his hips to allow them to drop the rest of the way to the floor.

Jack pulled away and looked Michael in the eye. “Turn around, hands against the wall. I’m going to fuck you now.” Michael felt his stomach twist with lust. He turned, careful not to trip on the clothes tangled around his feet.

The metal of the door was cool on his hands and fevered face as he pressed against it. He closed his eyes and waited, longing, for Jack’s touch. His brain sorted the soft sounds he heard behind him into zipper, condom, the shuffle of feet. Vaughn felt the press of Jack’s erection between his cheeks as Jack’s hand closed again around the curve of his throat.

“Open for me,” Jack whispered as he tightened his grip, pressing into the pulses he felt fluttering under his fingers. To Michael’s surprise, he did and Jack slid into him in one smooth thrust.

Jack reached around and took Michael’s cock in his other hand. As he began to move he alternately tightened and relaxed his grip.

Grinding into Michael’s ass, filling him, he pressed hard fingers into Vaughn’s tender throat, making him see stars, squeezed his cock, pushing his thumb into the vulnerable tip.

Then Jack slid slowly out, releasing the pressure, letting blood rush to Vaughn’s brain and cock, making him gasp - try to fill his lungs with air, as Jack’s hand slid down Michael’s length, fingers loose and stroking.

Again and again he was filled, Jack pressing inwards towards his core as he pressed fingers in where Vaughn’s blood had need to be, pinched his cock until it felt like it might bleed. Again and again, relentless, until Michael was stuttering fractured cries that echoed off the metal and concrete of the walls.

Vaughn was beyond coming, beyond human sensation. He felt like a violin string wound too tight. He was spinning out of control and then Jack began to speak.

“I control you. Control the oxygen to your brain. Control your very breath. I use you to give me pleasure. I hurt you to give you pleasure. When I tell you to, you are going to come for me. I will close my hand around your throat. You will feel like you’re dying and you will come when I tell you to. Do you understand?”

Michael nodded.

Jack loosened the hand constricting Vaughn’s voice. “I want to hear the words Michael. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Vaughn could only whisper, but it was enough.

Jack rammed into him, pressing him harder against the wall, working his hand faster and harder on Michael’s cock. Slowly the hand on Michael’s neck tightened.

“Almost… almost… almost…” Jack’s voice steadied Michael, kept him present, able to feel his orgasm building. Just when Michael thought he would black out, the whisper changed. “Now,” Jack said, and the orgasm ripped through him, felt like it would tear him apart. Stars exploded in his head.

He was only aware of Jack pulling away because without Jack’s support he slid to the floor. The heaving gasps he tried to take entered his body in tiny sips, slipping down his bruised throat and doing more to tease his lungs than oxygenate them. Jack, who was somehow dressed already, crouched beside him. A pillow appeared from the cot against the wall and Jack was doing something with his head and the pillow and suddenly Michael could breathe, properly breathe, taking in all the air he needed. Jack pulled up Vaughn’s pants, dressing him as though he were a child. Without a word he laid a hand on Vaughn’s face.

Michael was still trying to get his breath back when Jack finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking about that since the other night. Thank you.” He stood and started to walk towards the door.

“Where are you going?” it was barely a croak, but it carried in the tiny cell well enough.

“Back to work. I can cover for you if you want more time to rest. Until after lunch at least.”

“But…” Vaughn’s protest was answered only by the clank of the closing door. His only consolation was he did not hear a key turn in the lock. He lay back on the pillow and tried not to cry.

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