FIC: Fast Fuse (Mint Royale 1/8)
He says his name is Elliot, but Jon is pretty sure that’s a fake. The boy’s an idiot - he isn’t really a boy though, Jon reminds himself, he’s got to be in his mid-twenties at least - but surely even an idiot knows better than to give out his real name to a gang of crooks he’s just met.
“He’s a dimwit, but he sure can drive. He was recommended by someone I can trust. From what I gather he’s out on jam roll, so he ain’t gonna get us banged up.”
That’s how the others had explained his presence and Jon hadn’t bothered to argue. Their usual getaway driver got himself busted on a drug charge last week, so it’s not like they had much of a choice. Besides, this kid, this ‘Elliot’, has a nice arse, and that’s reason enough to keep him around as far as Jon is concerned.
It’s been a few hours since the robbery, and they’ve been driving all around the city since then. For nearly an hour, Elliot had manoeuvred the car along narrow streets that Jon hadn’t even known existed, until they came to a shady-looking second hand car dealership. There, they’d traded their old Ford for an even older Vauxhall Cavalier, and then they drove for nearly two more hours in the London traffic to drop off the other guys at locations on opposite ends of the city.
Now it’s just the two of them, speeding down the M1 with the windows rolled down. Elliot’s got his sunglasses on and is playing his stupid techno music as loud as it will go. His fingers are drumming along to the beat on the steering wheel, and his face is so full of uncomplicated joy that Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him to turn it down.
“Luton, yeah?” Elliot yells over the music when they approach the junction, and Jon nods wordlessly. Elliot laughs and shakes his head, as though Luton is the funniest place Jon could’ve asked to be taken to, and Jon feels like he should swat him, but he just smiles instead.
Following Jon’s directions, Elliot takes them to a ramshackle building near the rail track and backs the car into an old garage. He tosses Jon the keys and gets out of the car long enough to pull the garage door shut, leaving them in near darkness. At last, in the safety of this musty old building, Jon finally feels like he can let out the breath he’s been holding.
“This place is well creepy!” Elliot says, giggling as he gets back inside the car, his sunglasses now pushed up in his hair. “There’s rude graffiti all over that garage door. You live nearby?”
“No,” Jon replies shortly, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes.
They sit there in the dark for a few minutes, until Jon gets tired of hearing Elliot fidgeting next to him. “You can go now. There should be a VW in the garage next door with the keys in the ignition. Take it. We’ll contact you next time you’re needed.”
Jon still has his eyes closed, but he can tell that Elliot is staring at him by the sudden silence on the other side of the car. He opens his eyes and clears his throat, “What?”
Elliot is sitting very still, chewing his lower lip and looking at Jon with a strange sort of intensity. “What?” Jon repeats, feeling slightly uneasy under this sudden scrutiny.
Elliot’s eyes flick to the garage door for a second, then back at Jon, and he suddenly smiles, hesitation replaced by a kind of certainty, as though he’s just made a very important decision. He inches a bit closer to Jon. “I’d rather stay here with you, that’s all,” he finally says, and there’s no mistaking the seductive tone in his voice.
Jon isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Do you, now?” he asks, trying to keep his tone non-committal.
He knows he shouldn’t even be considering Elliot’s blatant offer, but he always feels so wound up after a job that a quickie in a dark garage sounds a lot more tempting than it should. Besides, the boy’s got nice lips, and Jon is pretty sure that Elliot’s noticed him checking out his arse, if his knowing smirk is anything to go by.
In lieu of an answer, Elliot slides his whole body closer, reaches out to take Jon’s glasses, deliberately slow, and folds them neatly over the dashboard. That done, he takes hold of Jon’s shirt collar to bring their faces together and kisses him hard. Jon forgets any vague intentions he might’ve had of putting up a resistance and kisses back hungrily, not caring how their teeth keep knocking together or how Elliot’s crooked nose is smashed up against his own. Jon fumbles blindly with one hand under the edge of his seat until his fingers close over the lever to push his seat back as far as it will go, and as soon as there’s enough space, Elliot is clambering up into his lap, straddling him. He’s sucking at Jon’s lower lip and reaching between their bodies with both hands, and he somehow manages to unfasten Jon’s belt and open his trousers in about two seconds flat.
Jon tries to return the favour, but Elliot just bats his hands away and drags them around his waist to rest on his arse instead. He’s a lot more forceful and domineering than Jon expected him to be, and it’s making Jon feel both stupidly awkward and incredibly turned on all at once. Elliot’s still kissing him insistently, one hand tangled in Jon’s hair and the other one sliding down Jon’s chest to his crotch and into his pants, closing his fingers around his erection.
Jon inhales sharply, his hips jerking forward, and Elliot pulls his mouth away, smiling wolfishly as he begins pumping his hand up and down, torturously slow. He leans forward to trail feather light kisses all along Jon’s jaw until he reaches his ear.
“I’m going to give you the best blowie of your life,” he murmurs, and laughs quietly at Jon’s answering whimper. Then, he’s scrambling down to kneel on the floor of the car, his body wedged awkwardly in the space between the seat and the dashboard. It can’t be comfortable, but Elliot doesn’t seem to mind. He’s tugging impatiently at Jon’s trousers and pants to bring them halfway down his thighs, and wastes no time in wrapping his hand back around Jon’s cock. He takes a moment to give Jon a cheeky grin, then slides the flat of his tongue over the head and then takes it all in his mouth, sucking him right down to the base.
Elliot is keeping to his word; it does turns out to be the best blow job Jon’s ever had. He can’t do anything but moan and plead embarrassingly as Elliot sucks him off, and it’s taking all of his willpower to keep himself from thrusting roughly into Elliot’s hot mouth. Instead, he just grabs handfuls of ridiculous hair and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. Elliot is swallowing around him, working him with his lips, tongue, and fingers, and it’s so wet, warm and incredible that it seems like no time at all before Jon is coming hard into Elliot’s mouth.
By the time Jon comes back to his senses, Elliot is already slumped in the driver’s seat and lighting a cigarette, throwing Jon a rueful smile.
“Don’t you want me to…?” Jon winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth, hating how confused and breathless he sounds to his own ears.
“Nah, you don’t have to. That was just for you.”
At a loss for words, Jon nods and keeps his eyes averted as he tucks himself back into his trousers with trembling hands. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, he puts his glasses back on, clears his throat and chances a glance at Elliot, “We should do that again sometime.” He hates himself for sounding like a stupid teenager, but presses on regardless. If Elliot is as talented in bed as he is with his mouth, it will be worth the embarrassment. “I owe you one. I’ll give you a ring, yeah?”
The kid doesn’t say anything. He takes a last drag off his cigarette and flicks it out the open car window. Then he slowly turns back to Jon and gives him a long, pitying look. There’s a spark of something in his eyes, a sharpness that Jon has never seen there before, and a feeling of unease unfurls in the pit of his stomach, causing goose bumps to break out all over his arms. He suddenly feels ill, but isn’t quite sure why.
“Elliot…” he begins uncertainly, but Elliot’s eyes have already snapped away from his face, his attention drawn by the sound of police sirens in the distance. Jon blinks, panic slowly spreading up his throat like a wave of nausea.
“Elliot, we’ve… shit, we’ve got to get out of here!”
He should get out of the car, he should start running, but he’s petrified, fused to the car seat.
“God damn it, start the car! What the fuck is wrong with you? You want to spend the rest of your life in the nick?”
The sirens are getting closer, and all of a sudden Elliot is pressed up against Jon once more. He curls his fingers at the base of Jon’s neck, tickling the fine hairs at the back of his head, and brushes his lips against the shell of Jon’s ear. “Sorry mate,” he murmurs, so quiet that Jon has to strain to make out the words over the wail of the police cars, “This is where you and I say goodbye.” Before Jon can react, Elliot presses a kiss to his cheek and then gets out of the Cavalier in one fluid movement. He slams the door shut and strides to the front of the car, facing the garage door.
Run. Get out, run, you moron. But it’s too late. The police cars are right outside the door, and Jon can hear tyres screeching to a halt, car doors opening and shutting, and several loud voices yelling words he can’t make out. Jon stays in his seat and watches Elliot like he’s hypnotized, the scene unfolding in slow motion before his eyes.
Elliot is shrugging out of his jacket, letting the garment crumple to the floor, and sliding his gun out of its holster.
Someone is pushing up the garage door from the outside, and the flood of light from the afternoon sun is almost blinding.
Elliot is unloading his pistol, crouching low to deposit it on to the floor, and his lips are moving, yelling something Jon can’t hear over the roar in his ears.
The garage door is pushed all the way up, revealing half a dozen cops standing there with their weapons all pointed at Elliot or at Jon’s face. There are at least three police cars behind them, completely blocking the exit.
Elliot stands up straight, his gun lying abandoned at his feet, still talking to the cops in a steady voice. He seems very calm, considering he’s got one empty hand up above his head in a gesture of surrender, and the other rummaging deep under his layers of clothing. He finally pulls out a small wallet-shaped object which he flicks open, and Jon sees something metallic glinting brightly in the sunlight. A badge. Jon closes his eyes, drops his head back against the headrest, and sighs.
Later, when Jon is handcuffed and sitting in the back of a patrol car, he sees Elliot standing a few feet away, smoking a cigarette and talking quietly with a police inspector. His whole demeanour seems to have changed; he no longer looks like a dim-witted brat. He seems older, perfectly in control, and when their eyes meet as the patrol car drives past to take Jon to the station, there’s nothing left of Elliot the getaway driver in his steel blue eyes. He gives Jon a crooked half-smile before disappearing out of sight as the car turns the corner.
“You fucking little shit,” Jon murmurs under his breath. He wants to feel hatred, but all he can feel is disappointment.
***
Prompt: Mint Royale, Bank Robber/Getaway Driver, getaway driver is an undercover cop
ETA: This story is being continued over here
“He’s a dimwit, but he sure can drive. He was recommended by someone I can trust. From what I gather he’s out on jam roll, so he ain’t gonna get us banged up.”
That’s how the others had explained his presence and Jon hadn’t bothered to argue. Their usual getaway driver got himself busted on a drug charge last week, so it’s not like they had much of a choice. Besides, this kid, this ‘Elliot’, has a nice arse, and that’s reason enough to keep him around as far as Jon is concerned.
It’s been a few hours since the robbery, and they’ve been driving all around the city since then. For nearly an hour, Elliot had manoeuvred the car along narrow streets that Jon hadn’t even known existed, until they came to a shady-looking second hand car dealership. There, they’d traded their old Ford for an even older Vauxhall Cavalier, and then they drove for nearly two more hours in the London traffic to drop off the other guys at locations on opposite ends of the city.
Now it’s just the two of them, speeding down the M1 with the windows rolled down. Elliot’s got his sunglasses on and is playing his stupid techno music as loud as it will go. His fingers are drumming along to the beat on the steering wheel, and his face is so full of uncomplicated joy that Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him to turn it down.
“Luton, yeah?” Elliot yells over the music when they approach the junction, and Jon nods wordlessly. Elliot laughs and shakes his head, as though Luton is the funniest place Jon could’ve asked to be taken to, and Jon feels like he should swat him, but he just smiles instead.
Following Jon’s directions, Elliot takes them to a ramshackle building near the rail track and backs the car into an old garage. He tosses Jon the keys and gets out of the car long enough to pull the garage door shut, leaving them in near darkness. At last, in the safety of this musty old building, Jon finally feels like he can let out the breath he’s been holding.
“This place is well creepy!” Elliot says, giggling as he gets back inside the car, his sunglasses now pushed up in his hair. “There’s rude graffiti all over that garage door. You live nearby?”
“No,” Jon replies shortly, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes.
They sit there in the dark for a few minutes, until Jon gets tired of hearing Elliot fidgeting next to him. “You can go now. There should be a VW in the garage next door with the keys in the ignition. Take it. We’ll contact you next time you’re needed.”
Jon still has his eyes closed, but he can tell that Elliot is staring at him by the sudden silence on the other side of the car. He opens his eyes and clears his throat, “What?”
Elliot is sitting very still, chewing his lower lip and looking at Jon with a strange sort of intensity. “What?” Jon repeats, feeling slightly uneasy under this sudden scrutiny.
Elliot’s eyes flick to the garage door for a second, then back at Jon, and he suddenly smiles, hesitation replaced by a kind of certainty, as though he’s just made a very important decision. He inches a bit closer to Jon. “I’d rather stay here with you, that’s all,” he finally says, and there’s no mistaking the seductive tone in his voice.
Jon isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Do you, now?” he asks, trying to keep his tone non-committal.
He knows he shouldn’t even be considering Elliot’s blatant offer, but he always feels so wound up after a job that a quickie in a dark garage sounds a lot more tempting than it should. Besides, the boy’s got nice lips, and Jon is pretty sure that Elliot’s noticed him checking out his arse, if his knowing smirk is anything to go by.
In lieu of an answer, Elliot slides his whole body closer, reaches out to take Jon’s glasses, deliberately slow, and folds them neatly over the dashboard. That done, he takes hold of Jon’s shirt collar to bring their faces together and kisses him hard. Jon forgets any vague intentions he might’ve had of putting up a resistance and kisses back hungrily, not caring how their teeth keep knocking together or how Elliot’s crooked nose is smashed up against his own. Jon fumbles blindly with one hand under the edge of his seat until his fingers close over the lever to push his seat back as far as it will go, and as soon as there’s enough space, Elliot is clambering up into his lap, straddling him. He’s sucking at Jon’s lower lip and reaching between their bodies with both hands, and he somehow manages to unfasten Jon’s belt and open his trousers in about two seconds flat.
Jon tries to return the favour, but Elliot just bats his hands away and drags them around his waist to rest on his arse instead. He’s a lot more forceful and domineering than Jon expected him to be, and it’s making Jon feel both stupidly awkward and incredibly turned on all at once. Elliot’s still kissing him insistently, one hand tangled in Jon’s hair and the other one sliding down Jon’s chest to his crotch and into his pants, closing his fingers around his erection.
Jon inhales sharply, his hips jerking forward, and Elliot pulls his mouth away, smiling wolfishly as he begins pumping his hand up and down, torturously slow. He leans forward to trail feather light kisses all along Jon’s jaw until he reaches his ear.
“I’m going to give you the best blowie of your life,” he murmurs, and laughs quietly at Jon’s answering whimper. Then, he’s scrambling down to kneel on the floor of the car, his body wedged awkwardly in the space between the seat and the dashboard. It can’t be comfortable, but Elliot doesn’t seem to mind. He’s tugging impatiently at Jon’s trousers and pants to bring them halfway down his thighs, and wastes no time in wrapping his hand back around Jon’s cock. He takes a moment to give Jon a cheeky grin, then slides the flat of his tongue over the head and then takes it all in his mouth, sucking him right down to the base.
Elliot is keeping to his word; it does turns out to be the best blow job Jon’s ever had. He can’t do anything but moan and plead embarrassingly as Elliot sucks him off, and it’s taking all of his willpower to keep himself from thrusting roughly into Elliot’s hot mouth. Instead, he just grabs handfuls of ridiculous hair and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. Elliot is swallowing around him, working him with his lips, tongue, and fingers, and it’s so wet, warm and incredible that it seems like no time at all before Jon is coming hard into Elliot’s mouth.
By the time Jon comes back to his senses, Elliot is already slumped in the driver’s seat and lighting a cigarette, throwing Jon a rueful smile.
“Don’t you want me to…?” Jon winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth, hating how confused and breathless he sounds to his own ears.
“Nah, you don’t have to. That was just for you.”
At a loss for words, Jon nods and keeps his eyes averted as he tucks himself back into his trousers with trembling hands. After a few more minutes of awkward silence, he puts his glasses back on, clears his throat and chances a glance at Elliot, “We should do that again sometime.” He hates himself for sounding like a stupid teenager, but presses on regardless. If Elliot is as talented in bed as he is with his mouth, it will be worth the embarrassment. “I owe you one. I’ll give you a ring, yeah?”
The kid doesn’t say anything. He takes a last drag off his cigarette and flicks it out the open car window. Then he slowly turns back to Jon and gives him a long, pitying look. There’s a spark of something in his eyes, a sharpness that Jon has never seen there before, and a feeling of unease unfurls in the pit of his stomach, causing goose bumps to break out all over his arms. He suddenly feels ill, but isn’t quite sure why.
“Elliot…” he begins uncertainly, but Elliot’s eyes have already snapped away from his face, his attention drawn by the sound of police sirens in the distance. Jon blinks, panic slowly spreading up his throat like a wave of nausea.
“Elliot, we’ve… shit, we’ve got to get out of here!”
He should get out of the car, he should start running, but he’s petrified, fused to the car seat.
“God damn it, start the car! What the fuck is wrong with you? You want to spend the rest of your life in the nick?”
The sirens are getting closer, and all of a sudden Elliot is pressed up against Jon once more. He curls his fingers at the base of Jon’s neck, tickling the fine hairs at the back of his head, and brushes his lips against the shell of Jon’s ear. “Sorry mate,” he murmurs, so quiet that Jon has to strain to make out the words over the wail of the police cars, “This is where you and I say goodbye.” Before Jon can react, Elliot presses a kiss to his cheek and then gets out of the Cavalier in one fluid movement. He slams the door shut and strides to the front of the car, facing the garage door.
Run. Get out, run, you moron. But it’s too late. The police cars are right outside the door, and Jon can hear tyres screeching to a halt, car doors opening and shutting, and several loud voices yelling words he can’t make out. Jon stays in his seat and watches Elliot like he’s hypnotized, the scene unfolding in slow motion before his eyes.
Elliot is shrugging out of his jacket, letting the garment crumple to the floor, and sliding his gun out of its holster.
Someone is pushing up the garage door from the outside, and the flood of light from the afternoon sun is almost blinding.
Elliot is unloading his pistol, crouching low to deposit it on to the floor, and his lips are moving, yelling something Jon can’t hear over the roar in his ears.
The garage door is pushed all the way up, revealing half a dozen cops standing there with their weapons all pointed at Elliot or at Jon’s face. There are at least three police cars behind them, completely blocking the exit.
Elliot stands up straight, his gun lying abandoned at his feet, still talking to the cops in a steady voice. He seems very calm, considering he’s got one empty hand up above his head in a gesture of surrender, and the other rummaging deep under his layers of clothing. He finally pulls out a small wallet-shaped object which he flicks open, and Jon sees something metallic glinting brightly in the sunlight. A badge. Jon closes his eyes, drops his head back against the headrest, and sighs.
Later, when Jon is handcuffed and sitting in the back of a patrol car, he sees Elliot standing a few feet away, smoking a cigarette and talking quietly with a police inspector. His whole demeanour seems to have changed; he no longer looks like a dim-witted brat. He seems older, perfectly in control, and when their eyes meet as the patrol car drives past to take Jon to the station, there’s nothing left of Elliot the getaway driver in his steel blue eyes. He gives Jon a crooked half-smile before disappearing out of sight as the car turns the corner.
“You fucking little shit,” Jon murmurs under his breath. He wants to feel hatred, but all he can feel is disappointment.
***
Prompt: Mint Royale, Bank Robber/Getaway Driver, getaway driver is an undercover cop
ETA: This story is being continued over here