Who Was I?

Title: Who was I?
Author: Scyllablue
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Jason/Kirill
Summary: Jason remembers more than he thought he lost.
Disclaimer: Do not own, which is a real shame. No profit beyond naughty thoughts.
Author’s Note: Basically a PWP that interrupted me in the middle of finishing Thunder Gold. Am I the only one who wants to lick Karl Urban up one side and down the other? The man looked yummy in Bourne Supremacy. Heh, he looks yummy in everything. And Matt Damon don’t look half bad grumpy. So, I wrote this over vacation, a little pissy that I lost my CD case on the plane. The epilogue is that when I got home I bought a MP3 player.
****

Standing in the darkened hotel room Jason Bourne visibly flinched as his long repressed memory suddenly rushed out at him. Glancing around he did not see the room as it was now, deserted, but as it had been then. That night. His first mission, and from there time sped forward, years of killing and hiding whizzing past his mind’s eye. Most of it was too disjointed to make complete sense of, like the pieces of a puzzle dumped out on a table, but at least he remembered. Cohesion could come later.

//“Don’t forget the licorice I like,” a warm voice laughed in his ear before the familiar body flitted away, sauntering into the kitchen to make breakfast while he finished packing.//

Oh God. Jason staggered, then crashed to his knees. Oh God. The face in his memory was familiar, shockingly familiar having seen it just days ago. He had forgotten more than just his life. So much made sense and he laughed softly. Kirill had not meant to kill Marie. He’d been shooting for him, for the lover who had left him alone to face their enemies.

***

Hearing a squealing of tires Jason checked his mirrors, shaking his head at the sight of a familiar face. “Not right now, sweetheart,” he muttered, sharply cutting the wheel. He had too many loose ends to clean up in Moscow. Listening to the climbing wail of sirens he accepted he was not going to be able to save Felix till last.

The man really tried his tolerance. Stumbling out of the totaled taxi he staggered to the driver’s side of the crumpled black utility. Everything was screaming with pain and if by God his psychotically stubborn lover was not tractable he was clubbing him unconscious with his gun.

Felix was alive, barely. Shoving his gun into the back of his pants Jason reached for him.

***

“Pamela Landy.”

“Why are you looking for me?” The hard voice on the other end of the line sent an uncontrollable stab of fear through her center. The man was the scariest person to brush her life and she did not mistake the menace in his voice.

“Bourne. I wanted to say thank you for the tape.” Silence. “And I wanted to apologize for accusing you.”

“That official?”

“You know that’s not how it works.” The man was almost sounding friendly, which made her consider her sanity when she let her curiosity prod her to ask. “The Russians are missing a secret service agent. Witnesses said you carried a man out of the tunnel. They said he looked dead.”

Silence, but then. “He was.”

Okay. She wasn’t sure where to go with that. Was Kirill actually dead? Somehow, she didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t going to risk this tenuous truce. “I was given access to your files from this. Bourne. Your real name. Your name from before. David Webb.” Again, the line grew quiet, long enough for her to wonder if he’d disconnected. “Bourne?”

“Take care of yourself. You look tired.”

She spun about in her chair to look out the window, but there was no one to see.

***

South Orange, New Jersey. Letting himself into the rundown apartment Jason left one bag on the kitchen’s miniscule counter and carried the other into the second room. He had furnished the necessities: a chair and two cots. The one cot he had modified with restraints at the ankles, the top of the thighs, the stomach and wrists. It wasn’t feasible to keep Felix tied down indefinitely, but for now it was necessary. Until Felix forgave him and his wounds sufficiently healed the man’s anger was both a danger to himself and Jason.

At his approach the dark head rolled his way, sleepy beautiful green eyes glaring at him over the gag he’d employed this morning before leaving. He’d given Felix a sedative with his painkillers, but hadn’t trusted the drugs to keep his resilient ex-lover out. It wouldn’t have done for Felix to shake off the drugs and start yelling for help. This neighborhood wasn’t swarming with Samaritans, but it would have been his luck for one of them to have heard and called the police.

“I got you some broth,” he said as way of greeting, catching the chair with one foot and dragging it closer to the cot. “Are you going to drink it or do you want another nutrient shot?” They had had this battle too, but after a minute of resigned silence Felix finally nodded.

Setting down the bag he took out the plastic tub of broth. With the Russian’s eyes on him he added a measurement of liquid nutrient and painkillers. He could feed him from the chair, but decided differently. He had loved Marie, almost as passionately as he did Felix, and he could admit to a confusion of emotion. To have one lover kill another . . .ultimately he could only blame himself. He had sworn protection and loyalty. No matter his intent he had broken those vows. Felix had meant to kill him. That he had taken Marie out instead was their tragedy.

Jason rested back against the wall, Felix’s head a familiar weight on his chest. Loosening the gag he smoothed lip balm over the dry, cracked lips before lifting the cup of broth. He doled out the warm liquid slowly, a thumb stroking the corner of his old lover’s lips in encouragement. Felix tried to shy at first, but Jason was patient. He remembered he had always been patient with Felix. From the first time he’d seen the volatile Russian he had known what he wanted. Had hunted him as diligently as any target. Learned his habits, his likes, who he belonged to. Months of anticipation and Felix had not known how to shake such a skilled predator as Jason Bourne. Felix was a good assassin but from a young age he’d been trained to obey, to submit, to not think of himself as anything but what his current owner made of him. He’d not had the instincts to fight Jason’s dominance. Felix belonged to whomever could hold onto him.

He had stolen Felix, then called Kirill, the very night he fucked him the first time. Saint Petersburg, in a booth in the back of a club, he’d wrestled Felix into position against the table, slicked his aching penis and pounded the brunette right there in the semi dark of the club. Felix had fought him madly until penetrated. No prep and Jason knew it had to hurt, but the Russian had only whimpered and moaned softly at his savage thrusting. Jason was confident Felix was no virgin to getting his ass reamed; there was no way some of the scum he’d been sold to would have resisted a sweet thing like Felix. Yet he’d fitted Jason’s cock like a slightly too small glove, contracting rhythmically against his assault and feeling better than any pussy. Perfect. Just what Jason had fantasized. He’d leant down and whispered as much in Felix’s ear, licking and sucking his lobe before rearing back. The crowd flowed around the table and no one seemed to care, but Jason wasn’t that trusting. He took Felix hard, knowing there would be time later for gentleness. Glancing down he watched his cock disappearing through Felix’s swollen hole and he came. His hips jerked strongly as he ejaculated into the man beneath him, groaning deeply.

Once he’d gotten his breathing back under control he’d collapsed back into the corner of the booth, pulling Felix with him, the Russian’s own erection smearing the front of his shirt. Jason spread Felix open on his lap using hands and his own legs. Then he guided Felix to feel where Jason breached him. The brunette was delicately trembling and Jason softly ordered him to jack himself with his other hand. Completely displayed to anyone walking past but Felix had obeyed. He’d masturbated sitting on Jason’s lap and as he’d climaxed Jason jabbed his thigh with a hypodermic. A cocktail that he would diligently modify over the following days to Felix’s physiology to keep him quiet and biddable, but fairly alert. Felix had never learned loyalty but Jason was not going to take the risk of relying on the man’s submissive nature and training.

Felix gasped when he pulled out, a small sound of distress Jason would come to learn and cherish. There was some blood on his semi-soft penis, but nothing dark. The brunette briefly fought being forced onto his stomach on the long bench, but the drugs were working their magic. He’d barely flinched when Jason took a baggie out of his pocket, pulled out a greased plug and worked it none too gently into his body. Then Jason helped him with his underwear and slacks, tucked himself away after a quick swipe of cocktail napkins and guided Felix to his feet. The brunette had stumbled about at first, drugged and obviously unsure how to walk with something up his ass. Jason had hugged him to his side with an arm about his waist and walked them outside.

He had taken Felix to Scotland, to a small house in the wilds that was more formidable than it looked. The walls were steel reinforced and the windows bulletproof, a veritable fortress to hold his lover safe when he was away. It became Felix’s home and Jason’s sanctuary.

The last time he’d left they had eaten breakfast together in their underwear. He’d taken Felix against the counter and then went to get dressed. Before he’d gone he had given his Russian a parting present, a dildo long and wide enough to make the brunette squeal and writhe while he strapped it into him. Gently feeding Felix his broth Jason wondered what had happened to that present. To all of their toys, the house. He hadn’t had time and was afraid to ask, to rekindle the anger that had driven Felix to try and kill him.

The broth done he set aside the carton and indulged himself in caressing the too long forgotten face. Felix was almost asleep, the drugs helping his weakened body to pull him under. Thinking on it, Jason doubted his lover even knew what country they were in, having been doped unconscious for most of the last week. The Russian’s body was one massive bruise and the less he felt it the better. Next week they would move. Though he’d given away his presence he doubted anyone would think he’d stick around. Landy might suspect he had Felix, and the woman was probably going to waste resources trying to find their connection, but she didn’t have the experience with him yet to think him capable of transporting a body on life support as Felix had been out of Russia.

“I’m sorry, Felix, baby,” he whispered, gently stroking Felix’s pale stomach. “I’m sorry I let those assholes fuck with me, fuck with my head. I wanted to remember my life so bad. I knew, just fucking knew!, there was something important I needed to remember. Want to go back home, back to our life, but I don’t know if I can make that happen. Do we still have a home? Are you ever going to forgive me forgetting you and our life?”

He’d thought Felix too out of it to hear him but the pale hazel green eyes slitted open to glare up into his own. “Hate. You.”

***

A month later Jason sipped his tea while watching Felix rake leaves in the backyard from the kitchen window. He didn’t give a shit about the leaves but it was a light enough exercise for his still recovering lover to do and as an added bonus it got Felix out of the house. Considering the Russian had yet to forgive him Jason had put limits on Felix’s venturing, not willing to trust his childhood training to keep him obedient. For someone who didn’t usually hold on to things Felix was carrying this anger. Which was why beneath his sweatpants Felix was strapped with a security anklet. If he moved more than two hundred yards from his controller, a small remote Jason diligently kept in his pocket, he’d be dropped with an electrical jolt. It was a similar setup to when he’d first acquired Felix so the mercenary knew the threat was serious. Some of Felix’s previous owners had simply beaten or tortured him indiscriminately. Knowing the treatment he was used to, from the first night Jason had worked on gaining his trust by clearly laying out the rules and what was expected. Unsurprisingly, Felix had been openly skeptical, but when Jason had kept his word, both good and bad, the Russian had slowly begun to warm to him. Felix liked his world black and white. He didn’t want to jump through hoops to guess what his master wanted of him: tell him and he did it. That was his ingrained training.

“Babe, come inside,” Jason called from the window. If he wasn’t watched Felix would push himself, too hard and too soon. “Come have some tea.”

Not a minute later Felix came in through the wet room’s door, his cheeks a bright red and his fingers cold. Jason pointed him to a chair at the breakfast table, adding milk to his lover’s chai before handing it over. The Russian took it without comment, gingerly warming his hands before taking tiny sips. Reclaiming his own seat Jason drank his tea and watched his lover as he contemplated the sulking man.

“You know I’m only going to tolerate this behavior for so long,” he said quietly. Felix did not look up but he continued anyhow. “I’ve told you I lost my memory and I’ve forgiven you for Marie. I have even,” and here he glared at his silent lover, “I have even respected your space and not fucked you raw like you deserve.”

That got a reaction. A flicker of pain and loathing in Felix’s eyes that caught Jason’s attention. He hadn’t touched his lover at first because of his injuries, but then he’d abstained for fear of pushing the complicated creature he loved to breaking. With firm training he’d made Felix dependent on him and then he’d disappeared. He didn’t want to hurt his beautiful Russian any more than he had. But perhaps that was the problem.

Felix’s eyes were again shuttered, but he’d already given too much away. “I see,” Jason clipped out. “Come here, Felix.”

Obedient, Felix stood up and came around the side of the table. He stopped just at Jason’s knees, eyes on the linoleum. Taking a last gulp of tea the blond reached up to grab Felix’s waistband then shoved him hard. The Russian assassin knew how to fall, catching himself with his hands, sprawled facedown on the floor. He didn’t try to get up, waiting for his master’s next move.

Stepping over the prone form Jason dug the margarine out of the fridge before turning back to his lover. He kicked the mile long legs farther apart than knelt between them. The margarine he set aside, ripping off the top and smiling at Felix’s obsessive attempt to not mar the dimple in the middle by cutting around it. The quirk reassured him somehow and leant eager force to his yanking at Felix’s sweats. The narrow hips lifted from the floor without being asked and Jason bared the pale ass. Felix didn’t like to wear underwear and the blond didn’t bother to strip him completely. He didn’t even bother to pull down his own pants, just unzipped the fly and let his cock spring out, eager and leaking for its favorite hole. Scooping the dollop from the center Jason briskly coated his penis, then stabbed two fingers into that clenching ass.

Felix grunted at the quick prep, but didn’t struggle or pull away. A few quick scissors and then Jason was stretching out over his lover, one hand braced near his head holding him up as the other guided his penis into place against Felix’s anus. Everything was slippery with margarine, but he plowed in with long practice, shoving in until his balls smacked.

Felix wailed. His ass sucked Jason in and held him fast, massaging his hard length with its contracting spasms. The Russian arched beneath him, but Jason’s weight kept him flat to the floor. Spread out, impaled and with no choice but to accept his place, Jason’s ownership.

For several long torturous minutes the kitchen was quiet but for the harsh pants of their breathing. Too long without this bliss and Jason was fighting not to blow his wad right then. God, but Felix was made to be fucked. He felt absolutely fucking perfect beneath him and Jason buried his nose in his Russian’s outdoor smelling hair, consciously willing his prick to control itself. He was going to fuck Felix bowlegged, but first . . .

When he didn’t start rutting right away Felix squirmed. “Jason, please,” he whimpered.

“I want to hear it first, Felix, since you’ve obviously forgotten.” Jason made his voice as cold and stern as he could. Something was wrong with his lover and he suspected it had to do with his briefly having another master and Jason’s refusal of intimacy. He’d exercised restraint with concern, but he doubted Felix was seeing it that way. Probably was floating half-baked notions of used goods.

“I -” Felix choked, swallowing tears.

“Tell me who you belong to,” Jason coaxed.

“You.” No hesitation and Jason rewarded him with a slow withdrawal till the head of his cock was just breaching Felix’s hole. “I belong to you, Jason,” his lover babbled, trembling as Jason demonstrated his control as he visibly fought not to impale himself. “Only yours. Please, Jason, you’re the best master I’ve ever had, the only one I’ve ever wanted to fuck me. You broke me like no one has, remade me. No one but you, I swear.”

“Good boy,” Jason grunted before thrusting back in. He pounded Felix’s ass hard, wanting there to be no denial to what they were to each other. Forced to take everything he gave Felix grunted and moaned for nearly every thrust, his own cock getting no relief from the cold kitchen tiles. So long denied, Jason didn’t last beyond twenty minutes, practically howling when he orgasmed, shooting deeply into his Russian.

Spent, he rolled off to collapse against the near cabinets, eyes closing as he struggled to regain his breath. Listening to Felix slowly move about he only cracked his eyes open when he felt his lover shuffle closer. The Russian’s expression was difficult to read as he pulled off his sweater, but Jason saw his unattended erection jutting up against his stomach and marveled to feel his penis twitch in interest. Felix’s front was smudged with dirt from the floor, cock included, his sticky pre-come making it worse. Jason reached out a hand to jerk him off but Felix had other ideas. Quickly shucking his pants and sitting in the blond’s lap Felix rubbed his dripping ass against Jason’s cock until it was hard enough to sit on. His hole felt hot and swollen but Felix just bore down, biting his lip until he’d taken all eight inches back in.

There was no rush this time, but the reaffirmation was somehow more poignant. Jason bent and spread his knees a bit, letting Felix set the pace. The dark head nestled into his neck, Felix’s hands, his whole body, rubbing up against him in rhythm to the rise and fall of his thighs. He was crying and Jason let him, stroking the small of his back, lightly scratching the back of his head. Small affectionate gestures that let the Russian know he belonged, that Jason still wanted him. For nearly an hour Felix worked himself on Jason’s shaft until he whimpered and sobbed, riding him to orgasm with a sharp jerk and a delicious shudder that Jason smiled and gritted his teeth through. Cum splashed their stomachs and Felix slumped into him with an exhalation of his name.

With his sheath still contracting about him Jason cupped Felix’s ass and squeezed. “Keep moving,” he ordered and after a few seconds Felix complied, moaning as his well fucked hole pushed out Jason’s thick cock and then dragged him back in. Jason spread his legs wider, forcing Felix to do the same, and worked two fingers into the tightly stretched orifice. Biting his lip Felix didn’t stop riding, strong thighs trembling as he lifted and lowered himself. Boy was going to sleep in tomorrow once Jason was done with him and the American grinned before leaning up to bite at already cold puckered nipples.

Felix gasped and jerked. Nibbling on the rosy nipples until they were red and warm Jason massaged Felix’s perineum while crooking and wiggling his fingers alongside his happy penis. It wasn’t in either of their natures to be loud, but if he put the effort in he could get Felix to vocalize nicely. Like now. The moaning was interspersing with sharp cries and the lean body started to move faster, harder. Jason had a flash of memory, of fucking Felix with his cock and a dildo at the same time, and groaned throatily. Did Felix miss their toys as much as he did? For a final time they came together, Felix’s deep cry in harmony to Jason’s lower moan of sweet completion.

The floor really wasn’t the place for post-orgasmic bliss and once he could again confidently command all his fingers and toes Jason gently prodded his lover up. “Bed, baby. I’m getting too old to pass out on the floor.”

Felix was more than a little wobbly on his feet but they made it into the bedroom after a brief stop into the bathroom. The lights felt overly bright in the moderately sized bathroom, but Jason just ignored his own discomforts, bending Felix over the toilet so he could gently clean his gaping hole. His boy looked well fucked and quite happy about the fact, completely relaxed to Jason’s invasive touch. The American’s dick gave an appreciative twitch at the sight and touch of that welcoming little ass, but all he did was kiss the small of Felix’s back before stepping away. A squirting of soap and a few efficient swipes of the sponge across his front and they were done but for Felix washing his own chest and stomach of sticky dirt.

Sprawling across the sheets Jason watched his lover gingerly take the other side, most of his weight shifted onto one hip. Felix’s gaze was wary, as though uncertain of his welcome or possibly Jason’s mood. Used to be the brunette had been so confident of Jason’s devotion he would kick the blond out of his bed if he’d been in a mood. Something else they would need to relearn.

But for now Jason simply tugged Felix down into his arms, insistent until his contrary love was as close as Jason could get him. He was fairly certain Felix wouldn’t try to kill him and the cold touch of the metal anklet against his own foot assured him the brunette wouldn’t run.

“I love you,” he whispered into his Russian’s ear.

“Hunh,” Felix grunted. He shifted though, relaxing back into Jason’s heavy presence with telling concession. Jason smiled into his sweat dampened hair.

Who was I?

I was yours.

And you? Mine.

The End.