#Shes so sweet and she brings out the sweeter kinder side of the Boss in her DLC

[mssjynx]

Krii7y, spy!au, faking dating, and “you have the emotional capacity of a brick.” Perhaps?

krii7y drabble | 3. spy!au | 6. fake dating | 5. “you have the emotional capacity of a brick.” 

warning: this one gets #steamy, but it’s not much more than a bit of heated grinding and heavy sexual undertones. i was sweating while writing it if that gives you any understanding. but i love it a lot so have fun and tell me what you think!

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“Have I mentioned yet that this plan is terrible?” Jaren grunted as hands skimmed down his back, tightening the string that pulled his blouse together at the back. He gasped as his breath was forced out of his lungs, but the dainty woman behind him didn’t acknowledge it as she threw a dressy top over the blouse. “Because this plan is terrible.” 

She ducked around to his front to fiddle with the loose clothing, tucking it into his pants and making sure he was wearing it all as he was supposed to. 

“Yes, Jaren. You have mentioned so.” John tugged at his collar, gritting his teeth when a second woman simply swatted his hands away. “At least seven times now.” 

Jaren grimaced, allowing his hands to be taken. Moisturiser was spread across his skin, massaged into his hands. He felt more fingers threading wax through his hair and grumbled to himself in irritation. He hated this fuss and mess, wanting nothing more than a raggedy old sweater and a pair of pyjama pants to wear out. 

But unfortunately, their attire for this mission wasn’t debatable. They had to fit into the intricate and exotic culture of the people they were infiltrating. If they weren’t able to convince them, they could be risking their lives. 

“Just shut up and do as we’re told, okay?” John released a sigh as the three women left the room. Jaren turned to him with a short glare. 

“You do as you’re told,” he snarked back, ignoring his own childishness as he strutted his way to the mirror and grimaced at his own reflection. He looked preppy and ridiculous and wanted so much to just rip, tear, untuck and loosen everything he was wearing. 

John stepped up beside him, looking equally as uncomfortable in his tightly braided hair and form-fitting suit. “We’ve gotta pretend that we’re in love, remember?” John asked, grabbing Jaren roughly by the waist and yanking him to his side. His smile was wide but flat, showing his disinterest in their little ploy. Jaren was no happier about it all, grimacing as John nuzzled their cheeks together.

Jaren snickered, batting John away from him. “I’m going to be fine with that. It’s you I’m worried about- You have the emotional capacity of a brick. How the fuck are you going to convince anyone that we’re in love?”

John shrugged, snatching their bag off the table and heading for the door. He didn’t wait to watch if Jaren followed but the younger man did. Evan was waiting by the elevator, flicking through a notebook with his phone stuck between his shoulder and ear. He chatted away, a crease between his brows, and Jaren snickered when John rolled his eyes. 

“Alright boss, we’re heading off to the lovebirds party!” Jaren announced, prancing ahead of John and catching Evan’s eye. Their boss smiled, shutting off his phone and clapping his notebook shut. 

“Got everything?” he asked, patting Jaren’s shoulder and giving him an amused once over. “You both look… dashing…” he laughed and John let out a quiet groan. “Remember,” Evan said, catching both of their eyes. “You’re not spies, you’re not outsiders; you’re like every other couple in there and you are both eternally tied to each other. They will be watching and if you don’t convince them, it’ll fuck up the rest of the mission.” 

Jaren nodded, knowing the serious tone in Evan’s voice wasn’t just for fun. “Yep. John and I are madly in love. We’ve got it.” 

At Evan’s confident nod, the two passed into the elevator. 

They spent the fifteen minute commute to the venue in silence, John’s hand coming to rest comfortably at the small of Jaren’s back as they got out of the car and looked up at the mansion before them. 

“Lean into me and look at me like I mean the world to me,” John said with a smile, gazing affectionately down at his partner. Jaren sunk into his side, beaming up at him and leaning his cheek to John’s shoulder. 

“Of course, my emotionally constipated love,” he cooed, allowing himself to be lead up the steps. “I’ll mingle, you scout. Sound good?” 

“Sounds perfect,” John murmured with his lips to Jaren’s temple in a loving kiss. He addressed the doorman with a polite smile. “Carson and Neil,” he introduced, waiting patiently as the man gave them a curious look before finding and ticking their names off on the list. 

“Have a nice night,” the man said and Jaren giggled, cuddling into John. 

“We will,” he cooed, reaching up and sliding his fingers along the length of John’s jaw with a touch that felt far too intimate for his friend. John snaked his arm around Jaren’s stomach, leading them both into the ballroom. 

The room was packed with rich, pretentious couples, gowned in silver and gold, silk and velvet. Jaren had never felt more out of place and he really was glad to have John by his side for this mission. He could already feel several pairs of eyes on the two of them as they swept into the room. 

It was hard not to garner attention and Jaren felt anxiety tickle at his throat. Perhaps they weren’t fitting in well enough. 

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” John murmured against the shell of his ear and Jaren shuddered, pressing back up against his partner’s chest and tipping his head back. 

“Of course,” he responded, voice delicate as a trail of kisses arched along his temple to his forehead. “I’ll be here, my love. Don’t lose me.” He kept his gaze sweet and loving as he watched John walk off. 

Within two seconds of him leaning up against the broad marble pillar, he was accompanied by a woman and a man. “Good evening,” the woman said, her voice about as silky as the scarf hooked around her arms. “I’m Cordelia and this is Jeffery. We haven’t seen you or your partner around here before, are you new?” 

Jaren faced them with confidence, accepting the woman’s outstretched hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips. He bowed his head in greeting and shook the man’s hand firmly. His eyes were too sharp and hers were too sweet. 

“I’m Jaren. My husband and I have just transferred in from upstate New York and a friend of ours invited us to attend the dance tonight,” he explained, looking at her through his lashes as he smiled politely. “You know Craig Thompson, I assume?” he inquired and she nodded as her husband slipped his arms around her front, resting his head atop her shoulder. 

Jaren felt extremely uncomfortable beneath his gaze but didn’t let himself tense for even half a second as he relaxed back against the pillar. “Yes, we’ve known Craig since he was hardly a boy,” she answered with a broad smile. A presence beside Jaren helped his nerves as a pink drink was held out for him. An arm sliding around his waist, lips pressing to his temple. 

Cordelia watched John with intrigue. “This is John,” Jaren introduced, resting his hand over John’s and taking a sip from his glass. “John, these two have known Craig all his life,” Jaren said, sharing a glance with his fake-husband. “Cordelia and Jeffery.”

“Yes, well, we just wanted to come by and introduce ourselves,” Cordelia said with a sweet smile. “We don’t usually see partnerships separating from one another during these events,” she explained, pushing her hair back behind her ears. Jaren tensed but John’s grip on him tightened in reassurance. 

He nuzzled up against Jaren’s cheek. “Well, we’ve been told we aren’t the most conventional of pairings,” he commented with a laugh that made Jaren’s tummy feel weird. 

Caroline’s smile seemed tight and Jeffery lead her back a step. He hummed in response, casting his eyes between them. “I advise you stick to conventionalism,” he said curtly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to question your relationship. Not in a community like this.” 

His words held all the threat they needed and Jaren forced a sweeter-than-sugar smile. “Thank you for the thought. We’ll keep it all in mind,” he reassured, sliding his hand up the back of John’s neck and dancing his fingertips over the tight blond braids. The two nodded their farewells and turned to leave. 

Jaren had to fight all his impulses not to sag in relief, instead turning his chest to John’s and gazing up at him. “We better up our game,” he purred, cupping both of John’s cheeks as the other watched him with kinder eyes than Jaren was used to. 

“Guess I’m gonna be holding onto you for the rest of the evening then,” John responded, dipping down to rub their noses together. Jaren flushed warm in the cheeks. “I have a plan B if things get dire.” 

For some reason, the look of glee in his eyes at that comment made him feel less comfortable as John spun him on the spot and took him by the hand. 

“Shall we dance?” he offered, finishing his drink and setting it on a waitress’s platter when she passed. 

Jaren nodded, laughing as he was dragged towards the centre of the room. 

For an hour they danced among the crowd of couples. Every single pair Jaren saw were so close and cuddly that he wondered if it was a crime in their culture to not be announcing their statuses with PDA every second of the day. He saw pairs kissing rather enthusiastically despite the company of the rest of the room, but no one seemed to mind; other dancers even smiling and laughing at those who were lost to each other in public. 

It was unnerving and it made Jaren stress about how far he and John were going to have to push their little act. By the way people were shooting uncertain glances in their direction, he dreaded that it was going to end up a lot farther than they were originally led to believe. 

“I think we’re going to have to kick things up a gear,” John murmured as he pulled Jaren in after a twirl. He pressed the words against Jaren’s jaw, dipping lower to flutter kisses down the length of Jaren’s neck. 

The younger spy tried his best not to turn bright red at the contact, the hands on his hips skimming down and brushing over the curve of his ass. This was mandatory; their lives were on the line and they needed to be convincing. 

Jaren just had to suck it up. 

“I don’t want to be forcing myself on you,” John said sweetly, his eyes much more serious than his loving tone feigned, as he turned Jaren’s back to him. He pulled him close, dancing his mouth along the curve of Jaren’s shoulder and splaying his hands over his stomach. 

“You’re not,” Jaren returned as he spun again. He pulled himself back into John’s space and beamed up at him. “Takes two to tango, and if you gotta grab my ass a few times to convince a few people that we’re fucking and to keep us alive, I think I can cope,” he cooed, laughing through his words as they swung one another around. 

John snickered, making sure to do exactly that and smack Jaren on the butt on his next inward twirl. “As long as we’re both on the same page,” he cooed, nose pressed to Jaren’s with how close he pulled him. 

To anyone, they looked perfect in that moment. A relationship of romance; a dance with loving jabs and sly teasing comments. John played the boyfriend perfectly and Jaren fell right into his act with John looking at him like he was made from the stars themselves. The sweet smile came naturally, the thoughtless way he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned into John’s space. 

“We are,” Jaren whispered and he felt his heart quicken when John’s eyes locked onto his mouth. He watched Jaren suck on his bottom lip for a moment, and for a moment, John’s eyes lost their feigned gaze of love and adoration. Something shifted into its place; something hot and allured, something hypnotised. 

Jaren felt heat spread through his stomach as John looked up at his eyes again. Why did John look at him like that? Why did it make Jaren’s head spin with delight? And why was it that now all he could think about was John pinning him to the wall and kissing him like this wasn’t all a game of pretend?

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

Jaren practically leapt away from John, his head spinning and his chest tight. “Bathroom,” he managed to splutter before he turned and shot off in the direction of the toilet. He kept his head down, avoiding the eyes that followed him as he got to the hallway and burst into the bathroom. He made a beeline for the sink, blasting the tap and basically dunking his head beneath the running water. 

His heart was pounding in his head and everytime he closed his eyes he could feel John’s hands on his ass, his tongue on his throat, his hips pressing- 

“Fuck,” he gasped, gripping the basin and staring into the eyes of his reflection. He needed to get a grip because this was a mission, not a date, not a fun little party with his friends. 

This was more than him and more than John, and far more than what Jaren wanted with John. 

The mission came before the two of them. 

The door creaked as it opened and Jaren didn’t need to look to know it was John. 

“Hey,” John said, casual but with a gentle edge. “Pretty sure my boyfriend running away from me doesn’t make for a good image of our deep and emotional romantic relationship.” 

Laughter tumbled from Jaren’s lips, helpless and weak. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, unable to stop his smile from spreading. It was John, always John. No one else could make him laugh when every cell in his body was buzzing with panic. 

“You’re fucking stupid,” he said, standing with an inhale and pushing his fingers through his wet hair as he turned to face John. His heart skipped a beat at the look in John’s eyes, mixed in with reluctance. 

“Yeah, and you’re fucking hot.” The words came easily as John crossed his arms and leaned against the bathroom wall. Jaren’s stomach dropped like he was falling from an unimaginable height and he was sure that if he wasn’t still holding onto the basin his legs would have given out beneath him. He all but gawked at John and the older spy gave a dry laugh and a shrug. “Can’t lie; you’re driving me nuts.” 

“John-” Jaren managed but his tongue got caught in his throat and left him floundering without words. 

John pushed off the wall, walking up to Jaren with far too much confidence. He snatched the hand towel off the rack and threw it over Jaren’s head, ignoring the others yelp and ruffling up his hair with it. “You got yourself all wet,” John scolded and Jaren grumbled beneath the towel. 

When John relented, he dragged the towel off his head and glared; hair sticking up everywhere. John snickered and Jaren flicked up his middle finger. He turned to his reflection with an irritated curse, and started desperately trying to slick it back and neaten it back up to look somewhat acceptable. 

John watched him, his gaze unignorable. But shockingly, discomfort wasn’t what Jaren was feeling beneath his partner’s gaze. He felt his cheeks getting warm as he realised his hair was all fixed; but he didn’t know if he could face John after what he’d said, after what Jaren was thinking about. 

“Are you alright?” John asked after a minute and the question seemed uncertain in his mouth. Jaren couldn’t help but snicker, turning to him with a shyness he wasn’t used to bearing before the spy he’d known for so many years. 

“I’m good,” Jaren assured, because he wasn’t upset and he wasn’t about to freak out again (he was pretty sure…). He thought back to the mission, and to the people that likely watched closely as he ran off in his panic. 

They were going to have to really up their game if they wanted to make sure that they could convince everyone in that ballroom that the two of them really were partners. And Jaren didn’t want to think about how. 

“We’re gonna have to do something about this though,” John said, speaking exactly what Jaren was thinking over. “I don’t want you to run off on me though.” The humour on John’s tongue fell flat and Jaren glanced at his feet. 

“I won’t,” he promised. “This is just a lot to fake.” 

His explanation made John’s frown deepen and the older sighed lightly. “This all fake to you?” he asked and the bold question made Jaren shiver. He took a small step back but couldn’t pull his eyes away from John’s this time. 

Eyes that dared Jaren to tell the truth. 

Jaren wasn’t brave enough to turn it into words and he found himself helpless to do anything but shrug, looking away from John. 

His answer was clear. 

And John didn’t hesitate to breach the space between them. “Jaren, I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, catching the younger man by the chin and lifting his head. With a hand to Jaren’s chest, John did exactly what Jaren had been thinking of- had been fantasizing. John pushed him against the tiled wall, knee splitting Jaren’s thighs and chest pinning him in place. 

Jaren could have collapsed completely and still been held right there. Sandwiched between John and the wall with a shameless hand sliding down Jaren’s back to its home: curled around the curve of Jaren’s ass. 

“I’m gonna kiss you, and every single person out there is gonna know that you belong to me.” Jaren had never heard anything sexier than those words, growled into the non-existent space between his mouth and John’s. His breath was ragged and his lip bled from how hard he bit it but there didn’t seem to be anything that could deter John as the spy pushed in and claimed Jaren’s mouth as his. 

Heat ravaged Jaren’s body. His blood boiled as it coursed through him, heart pounding in his chest with a ferocity Jaren hadn’t experienced before. It was as if John didn’t even consider the idea of holding back. The grip he got on Jaren’s wrist was painful as he pinned it to the wall beside his head and Jaren couldn’t help but feel a sense of searing glee at how John so easily contained and controlled him. With a thigh between his legs and a hand kneading his ass, Jaren’s body moved without his command, his hips pushing back against John’s possessive touch only to roll forward and grind the heat between his legs against John’s thigh. 

Jaren’s head spun and he did not care. He licked up into John’s mouth, pushing up against him and trying to get closer. He let his head be pushed scolding back against the wall as John bit his bottom lip; something so hot that Jaren felt like he was going to pass out. And the way John ran his tongue teasingly over the sore skin; Jaren couldn’t stop himself from whimpering desperately against John who dipped into his mouth and claimed it as his. 

Before Jaren could follow, John was pulling back for a breath and he, himself, was gasping as if he’d almost drowned. John was hard against his hip, pressing in and taking what he could; giving just as much, if not more, back to Jaren with the hard press of his thigh. Jaren bucked, face dark red in embarrassment. He could barely control his own body as John took over him.

He controlled him like a puppet and Jaren loved every second of it.

“What will those old women think when you walk out covered in hickies?” John purred his question against Jaren’s ear and snickered when his only answer was a gasp and a moan. “I think there’s no way they’ll question us then.” 

That tongue traced the shell of his ear and Jaren let his head fall away, exposing his neck with need and aching for John to fulfill his promise. Hot. Wet. John trapped his earlobe between his teeth before dropped his mouth to skin of his throat. He sealed his lips to the sensitive skin, taking his precious time to lavish it with his teeth and tongue, dropping to leave another dark mark, and another, and another.

Jaren had never felt so good. 

With John’s mouth on his throat, John’s hands on his ass, John’s thigh between his legs. Jaren dropped his hips, arching his back and pressing the length of his body completely against John’s. He pressed the arousal between his legs against John’s thigh, grinding his hip against John’s own hardness in the motion. And with the pleasure streaking up his spine in glorious waves, he didn’t even think as he moaned out John’s name; pleasure, lust, neediness. 

He felt like he was in heat. 

And all of a sudden, that heat was doused. 

John’s mouth was no longer on him, John’s hands vanished from his butt, John’s leg fell away from beneath him and Jaren was left plastered to the wall; gasping for air and sweating like he’d just ran seven miles in a minute. 

“Fuck,” he panted, head falling back with his eyes still locked on John. He wasn’t the only one looking slightly worked up. 

There was no hiding the tent in either of their pants and John’s lips were slick and rosy (Jaren could bet money his looked no different). The dull stinging up his neck reminded him of the hickies that John had no doubt left and when he let his eyes drift to the mirror, he gaped at his throat. Dark purple, mouth-shaped; there was no denying what the bruises up Jaren’s throat were and he felt as dirty as he looked. 

“Fuck,” John huffed in agreement, pressing his palms over his eyes. 

Jaren’s pants were tighter than he could even understand and his clothes stuck to him like a second skin. He needed a cold shower over everything. 

John’s puff of laughter brought his attention back and he felt so exposed as alluring eyes trailed up and down his body. Pride, lust, hunger; John didn’t hide any of it as he bared his teeth in a sharky grin. He adjusted himself in his pants and Jaren had to force his eyes away as his cheeks flushed. 

“Are you-” John laughed, still trying to catch his breath. “Are you flustered?” he asked in disbelief. Jaren’s cheeks burned darker. “You were just grinding on me like a stripper and moaning like you were about to come in your pants and now you’re flustered because I’m hard?” 

When John said it like that, there was no way Jaren couldn’t cover his face and try and hide. “Don’t say that,” he muttered into the palms of his hands. He couldn’t look at John as the other spy stepped back into his space, and only when gentle fingers started peeling at his hands did he allow them to drop away from his face. Beautiful green eyes. 

“We’re gonna go out there and get this mission done,” John said, calm and pleasant, "and then I’m gonna take you home, get you out of these ridiculous clothes, and fuck you in my kitchen, in my shower and in my bed.” 

“John,” Jaren whimpered, biting his tongue as his stomach twisted painfully, his arousal straining against his pants. 

John pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then one to his cheek. Then he trailed slow, deliberate kisses down the centre of his throat, and back up the side of his neck. And with a final kiss to the soft skin beneath Jaren’s ear, John hummed gently. “And this time, I’m gonna leave marks all over your thighs, instead of your throat.” 

Jaren shivered, grasping John by the shoulder and digging his fingertips in. The other man didn’t even seem to notice as he leaned back. 

His grin was broad and eager and Jaren knew he meant every single word.