If Being Wrong's a Crime...

by ipromisedyouareckoning

Summary:

'Had it been up to me in Dubai, the world would be a nuclear inferno by now! And I know you feel guilty about Croatia, but that’s not enough to act like I– like–'

‘Like your contributions- like you are valuable to me? Like you’ve got a perspective that’s worthwhile to the team? Like you’re a competent fighter, a damn good analyst and one of the bravest men I know?’

‘Stop.’ He wishes he was strong enough to pull back when Ethan’s hands hold onto his. ‘Stop it. None of that changes the facts.’

‘Nobody else sees you the way you see yourself. And if you want to disappear again and go find another billionaire husband, that's your decision, but the world will be poorer for it. As will the IMF, and as will I. Those are the facts.’

 

After Ghost Protocol, Will finds he just doesn't want the hard decisions to be his responsibility anymore, so he leaves the IMF and creates a new identity for himself as some billionaire's submissive fiancé.

Ethan would say he's dealing with Will's absence well, at least until Benji knocks on his door to inform him their former chief analyst has reemerged from his disappearing act to join their mark at an orgy.

Ethan likes to think he's gotten over it. You can’t very well do what he does, after all, without learning to take rejection with grace. And Brandt’s departure, although a letdown, hadn’t been much of a shock. Even after coming clean about the younger man’s last official field operation, there’s only so much to go back to; what with the agency’s future uncertain at best and the looming inquest. And still, Ethan finds himself pausing after outlining a plan that relies at least 68% on chance, as if waiting to be questioned. Finds himself looking around for the analyst; for his measuring, intelligent gaze, even as he knows it’s no use. 

Benji notices, of course he does. So he’s overjoyed when his facial recognition software pings a match, after months of fruitlessly scanning the interwebs; and subsequently baffled when he actually plays the video . Due to the nature of it, he’s got obvious reservations about bringing it to Ethan, but the truth is one doesn’t simply quit intelligence work altogether, and Brandt’s connection with their current target cannot be a coincidence. So he’s either gone rogue, he’s switched sides or – more likely, given that neither him or Luther have heard a whisper of him through the official channels – he’s working for a private faction, unlinked to any government and less scrupulous as to the work their agents carry out in the field. Benji swallows dry before knocking on Ethan’s door and explaining in terms as loose as he knows that their former teammate has reemerged from his disappearing act to join their mark at an orgy.

How that has them en route to a BDSM party not a week later and an ocean away under fake names and masks, Benji’s a perfect latex replica of a bellhop in their hotel and Ethan’s a metal filigree Venetian as directed in his invitation, is all part of a strategy so convoluted they’re probably lucky they don’t need to run it by Brandt. Even so, it’s a solid strategy; they’re going after their mark in an environment where he believes to be one hundred percent anonymous and in control. If anything, he’s bound to feel challenged by Ethan, playing a master like him, and won’t expect an attack from Benji. At least, he tells himself so as he drives into the carpark of a high end yet discrete hotel and adjusts the voice strip under his collar, determinedly not returning Ethan’s concerned look.

‘It’s your first time taking point, are you sure you’re up for it? I could insist on staying with you throughout.’

He turns to see Ethan’s removed his mask and wears an earnest expression of caution, in a shameless attempt to cajole him into taking up resources that are better allocated elsewhere. In this case, his presence. 

‘I am a field agent, Ethan, I know the risks and I’d like to think I’ve proven myself to you.’

‘That’s not what this is about.’

‘You’re right it’s not. It’s about me interrogating Ingram about his shell companies’ dealings with the CDC’s acting director, and it’s about you finding out what our ex chief analyst is doing here. Even if you think you can get as much mileage off Ingram’s information as me,’ and at this Ethan has the decency of looking cowed, ‘who do you think Brandt’s going to talk to?’

Ethan has to concede, even if he can entice Ingram into a secondary location, Luther is bound to be irked if he’s expected to work through the bitcoin transactions with the help of a functional luddite. It doesn’t make him any more enthusiastic about clipping the leash onto his friend's collar and leading him outside, but it gets him to put his mask back on and get on with it. 

◇

The party is not entirely unlike others Ethan's been to in his career. Bodies twist and flex on small stages, or lounge and loll around in strategically placed furniture. Ethan heads for the bar, judging it an alright point to watch their surroundings and, more importantly, be watched. They stick to their roles; Ethan sits and orders for them both as Benji stays on his feet. When their drinks are served, he pours Benji’s delicately into his mouth and it’s not long until Luther informs the latter they’ve caught their mark’s eye. He leans in to let Ethan know, and is subsequently led to a corner and to the floor in front of a divan, as a softcore porno plays on a screen mounted on the adjacent wall.

Ethan spaces out looking through the video, feels Benji nuzzle into his knee and thinks, somewhat hysterically, back to their Kremlin routine and how nervous he’d been. How much he’s improved in such a short time. His thoughts are yanked none too delicately back to the present when a scantily clad ex chief analyst enters his field of vision, dark lined eyes trailed on the floor and golden chains glistening across his chest and down his thighs. For a moment his mission brain takes over, second guessing the more simplistic – inexperienced, maybe– approach they’d gone for with Benji’s attire but it seems, if the way Ingram is sizing him up is anything to go by, inexperienced is the thing to be tonight.

Ingram joins Ethan in the divan, and when Brandt kneels demurely next to a sprawling Benji, it becomes clear to him they don’t know nearly half the things they should to move in an environment like this. Remembering the Russian accent he’s supposed to have, he’s quick to strike a conversation with Ingram, and his faith in this harebrained scheme is renewed at Ingram’s evident amusement at his lax approach to dominance. Ethan finds himself nodding along to his interlocutor’s critique of the performers on screen without listening to half of it, attention captured by the soft, firm lines of Brandt’s shoulders and the elegant slope of his neck, still craned down to avoid his eyes and the muscles on his biceps, straining against thick golden armlets. Then Benji closes his hand around his ankle, inconspicuously bringing him back to the moment, and Ethan regains himself enough to pull him up in an offer Ingram accepts happily, leading the Englishman into his lap.

‘I’m not saying it’s not good, but I’m used to better.’ Ingram keeps on about the video, trailing his hands along Benji’s back, and it’s only because Ethan is still staring at Brandt that he notes the light blush that colours his face even before Ingram’s shoe comes to rest on his shoulder. ‘Don’t you want to show our new friends?’

Brandt nods as if this is a practised routine, and moves to take a drive from Ingram, who doesn’t spare him a glance, seemingly distracted by the man sat astride him. All for the better, for Ethan cannot take his eyes off him as he walks towards the screen even as his brain kicks in and he guesses what he’s about to watch just an instant before the video is replaced for a more amateur shot of Brandt riding the person recording that hits Ethan like a gut punch. In the screen, Brandt moans roughly as he climaxes, not for the first time if the dried sperm in his stomach is anything to go by, and the camera changes hands so the first man can keep him moving up and down even as his thighs twitch from overstimulation. On the floor in front of him, Brandt crawls between his knees, and if the sound of his own incoherent begging playing behind him has him blushing a warm pink that’s rather becoming on his tan skin, it also has him harden against his cage. Transfixed by the sight, Ethan still jolts when the younger man makes to undo his slacks, but Ingram just laughs indulgently.

‘My pet just wants to keep you warm, help you enjoy the show.’ Ethan exchanges a mildly panicked look with Benji, they were each supposed to get to a room before things escalated this far. If anything, this seems to entertain Ingram. ‘Is that’s okay with you both, that is.’

Ethan nods and unzips his trousers, but it’s Benji who saves the day, leaning in to ask his partner whether he’d share him so liberally if he had the chance. Ethan figures it’s not as bad, or not as good, for Benji given that he’s already watched their former teammate’s sextape, and then he forgets this and any other arguments when said teammate pulls him out and gives him a look as hungry as they come before he’s pressing a wet kiss against his tip and swallowing him to the base in one go. Ethan has the wherewithal to swear in Russian, keep up his facade, even as Brandt nudges his nose into his pubis and lets out a satisfied whine. 

Ethan finds he cannot hold Brandt’s straining gaze for long, and decides to take a page from Ingram’s book instead and focus on the video, lulled into a false sense of security by the more tame sounds coming from it. He quickly finds it’s only because on the screen Brandt is blowing two men in turns, head hanging off a table and knees pushed into his chest so a third can finger him comfortably. Ethan turns to Ingram, who’s pushing his erection leisurely into Benji’s fist with his eyes trained on Brandt.

‘Has he watched it? All of it?’

Ingram gives him a wicked smile. ‘Does he know what a wanton thing he really is, you mean? Why don’t you ask him?’

Ethan shouldn’t want to, or doesn’t think he should, but his hand comes to pet Brandt’s hair of his own accord. It’s longer now, less professional, and soft between his fingers. Brandt blinks slowly and presses minimally into it.

‘Do you know how many men fucked you, just in that video? Can you even guess how many men have come inside you?’ Brandt’s answering whine vibrates around him as he continues petting him. ‘And all you can be sure about is it’s not enough, is it?’

Brandt swallows around him and his eyes glisten with tears, so Ethan looks up again, cannot take that look from the man who’s saved his life. Instead, he drinks in his blissed out expression on the screen, as his face is rubbed against the videographer’s leaking cock, who seems reluctant to let him suck it. Brandt opens his mouth obscenely, tongue lolling out, and then another man enters the shot and Brandt lets out an enthusiastic sob as he slides into his arse with no hesitation and begins fucking him savagely. The man recording gets with the program and slams into his mouth with an equally brutal rhythm. 

Ethan goes impossibly hard in Brandt’s mouth, whose breaths are coming out laboured now, although whether that’s from the strain on his throat or being forced to listen to his own wet moans and the grunts of the men fucking such indecent sounds out of him is anyone’s guess. Benji seems to get, then, that it’s up to him to stick to the plan, and stops Ingram’s hands with a hesitant noise. Ethan’s head snaps up at that, fearing he’s let himself be distracted, but Benji’s eyes are coy when they meet his. Ingram looks from one to the other, and a cold smile spreads in his face.

‘Maybe a more private setting would help your delightful guest loosen up. Do you mind?’

Right. Getting Ingram alone with Benji. And then figuring out what all Brandt knows, other than his way around nine inch pricks. His hesitation only makes Ingram’s smile wider, and he figures he must look both covetous and jealous at the same time, instead of confused and incredibly turned on. He nods absently, then has a mind to think of Benji. 

‘I understand we don’t approach this the same way, but my lover is his own master. What he says, goes.’

Ingram’s eyes flash in a way that have Ethan remind himself Benji could neutralise the businessman with one hand tied behind his back, but his voice is pleasant when he speaks. ‘Of course. I promise to play nice with your pet, if you promise to be rough with mine.’

Ethan exhales, cards his hands through Brandt’s hair. ‘What do you think about that, then?’

Ingram leans over to pinch Brandt’s nose. ‘He thinks what I think, and I think I want to see the marks.’

Benji reaches for Ethan’s wrist, and it’s all he can do not to stop him. It’s not necessary, for the businessman lets off as soon as Brandt manages a jerky nod. His airway unobstructed once again, he holds his position, shaky breaths his only indication of discomfort. Ingram stands to offer Benji a hand with a flourish, and walks away with a selfsatisfied ‘Have fun.’

Ethan tears his eyes away from their retreating forms and back to the bloody video, where a man has Brandt doubled over so he can fuck him and masturbate him so he drips into his own mouth. The image, after everything else, takes him by surprise and he’s rocking his erection into Brandt’s mouth, who takes the cue to start sucking him properly. For a moment, Ethan’s in paradise. All the tension leaves him when Brandt hollows his cheeks and presses his tongue up against his cock to start a slow, sensuous pace. Ethan wonders if he’s ever seen him this content, and that thought pulls him up.

With a careful hand around his jaw, Ethan stops the younger man, who doesn’t resist him even as he pulls him off. Much like in the video, he lets his mouth hang open to show his willingness, and it’s a wonder Ethan doesn’t come at the sight of those waiting, cockswollen lips messy with saliva and precum. He pulls Brandt up, which gets him a lapful, hands holding onto his shoulders, expectant. Ethan’s eyes trail the chains adorning him, and there’s no way he’s going to get anywhere with his whimpers playing in the background, joining the sounds of the couples getting off around them. 

‘Come on.’ He stands up fast enough he’s got to steady Brandt’s unstable stance. ‘Let’s get some privacy too.’

Brandt’s not wearing a leash, so he leads him by the hand through the fray, wondering how many times the analyst has been out on display like this. His considerations change as soon as he gets them to a room and gets the door shut. He definitively didn’t plan on having this conversation after being in Brandt’s throat. Unaware of his troubles, Brandt wastes no time in crawling into bed, feet tucked under him with his hands folded in his lap. Ethan takes a deep breath and crouches in front of him, keeping his distance since he doesn’t know how the other man will react and he’s been disarmed by him so lethally it was almost elegant. The confused look he gets is just as disarming, but he’s got to come clean.

‘Brandt–’ He stops. Somehow, in the last hour that stopped being adequate. And Brandt jumps off the bed, taking a defensive stance. ‘Will, it’s me!’

◇

The colour that had left his face upon hearing his real name rushes back, and he’s blushing furiously as soon as Ethan Fucking Hunt’s mask is off. Not the rosy glow he’s seen on himself ten thousand times over when he’s aroused, but a deeper hue that makes his face uncomfortably hot. It’s just his luck. God. And isn’t it just his luck. With how into this he’d been, being shared to a man who was just a dead ringer. The right body type, the right voice if he ignored the accent, the kind touches he could only imagine would go along with it. He feels like crying. He feels like faking his death. Or dying for real.

‘What the fuck?’ His voice breaks, and his receding blush flares up at the memory of Ethan’s cock (Ethan’s!) in his throat. ‘What the fuck!? I’m not even worth an actual mask?’

And what tells him this is actually Ethan? Wouldn’t it be better to go like this, to throw him off? Will breaks a post off the bed and holds it like a club as the other man stands and walks back with his hands in the air, and godfuckingdamnit, if it’s not Ethan how can he look so earnest?

‘Take off your jacket! Get on the bed!’

Maybe-Ethan complies, sitting on the edge of the mattress, and doesn’t resist as he’s searched. He goes about it more aggressively than he strictly needs to, but that’s just as well. Everything that points at it being actually Ethan has him terrifyingly sure it’s even worse if it’s him. And it is him. He finishes clawing at his scalp and steps back. And he doesn’t stop until he reaches the wall, where he slumps down into the ground. And Ethan looks at him, like he used to in the field. Gone is the overwhelming desire he feasted on like a starved man through the mask.

‘I thought not having an actual mask would make this easier. It was never meant to go this far.’ Ethan sounds sorry, and he knows he should, but that doesn’t make it better. ‘Benji is wearing a mask.’

‘Benji? Jesuschrist that was Benji!? What is wrong with you? Are you seriously running an op on me?’

Ethan sighs. ‘We’re here to help you. I don’t know who you’re working for, or why, but whatever it is we want to help.’

‘I’m not– Ethan I’m not working . And I don’t need help. I know it may be hard to believe for the man who chose to erase his wife’s identity instead of quitting, but quitting is a valid option.’ He knows he’s cruel, but he wants to be. Ethan works his jaw, looking guiltier than he looks angry. ‘I got out. And we’re all better for it. Is it too much to ask for a clean slate without you lot going rogue to terrorise my fiance? Oh, my god. What is Benji doing to–?’

He stands up, ready to go find Chaz, but so does Ethan. ‘Are you… are you serious, right now?’ For an answer, Will tilts his chin up in challenge. ‘I know you can quit, I know I probably should have, I know! You’re not the mark here, Will, it’s Charles Ingram.’

Will leans back on the wall to keep his balance. Suddenly he’s feeling very dizzy and very exposed. He drops his makeshift weapon as Ethan approaches, and lets himself be led to bed, wrapped in a silk sheet that’s more showy than comforting but will have to do.

‘You’re the best analyst I’ve ever known, are you telling me you don’t know–?’

‘I don’t want to know! Of course I know he bribes officials and cheats on me and his taxes and… and he probably contaminates groundwater by the kilolitre! Get real, what billionaire doesn’t!?’

Will only realises how sad that all sounds at Ethan’s disillusioned expression. Well, of course he’s getting cheated on. And it’s not like he actually minds. Still, his outburst has taken it out of him enough that he’s leaning on Ethan and letting himself be held as he hears about his fiance’s involvement in the CDC’s radio silence on the outbreaks of TB across the midwest, the fact that the US is no longer poliomyelitis free, and the shell companies hiding his fiance’s pharmaceutical acquisitions. He doesn’t want to hear more, he closes his eyes but all he can see is Ethan’s disenchanted face.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘It’s okay, I know.’

‘No, I didn’t know. You don’t get it. I let him– no, I asked him to make all decisions for me, and that was the only limit. I didn’t want to hear about his business. Because I know how power works and how it stains anyone who tries to hold onto it, and I figured– I figured it was an alright middle, I don’t have to be in control so it doesn’t have to be my fault, and he gets whatever he wants, but– but it was not enough, god!’

He knows he’s ranting, and he knows he’s got to cut a pathetic figure talking into Ethan’s chest and covered in chains of literal gold and a blanket that’s just ornamental. He doesn’t know he’s crying, or not until Ethan pulls his face up, gentle as ever, and wipes them with his thumbs, and it’s too much. 

‘Of course you’re not running an op for me.’

At that, Ethan makes a face. ‘Why wouldn’t you just– why did you want someone to make your decisions?’

‘Because I’m evidently not qualified. And doesn’t this prove it? All the moguls in the world and I went running to give myself over to the supervillain dujour.’ He pushes himself away with a bitter laugh that only gets more manic at Ethan’s stunned look. ‘Come on, Hunt, think! If you had followed any of my orders in Dubai the world would be a nuclear inferno by now! That’s twice I dropped the ball on a mission and you had to clean up the mess! And I know you feel guilty about Croatia, but that’s not enough to act like I– like– like I–’

‘Like your contributions- like you are valuable, to me? Like you’ve got a perspective that’s worthwhile to the team? Like you’re a competent fighter, a damn good analyst and one of the bravest men I know?’

‘Stop.’ He wishes he was strong enough to pull back when Ethan’s hands hold onto his. ‘Stop it. None of that changes the facts.’

‘Nobody else sees you the way you see yourself. And if you want to disappear again and go find another billionaire husband, that's your decision, but the world will be poorer for it. As will the IMF, and as will I. Those are the facts.’

Will is sure he’s got an answer to that. He’s got arguments, and examples, and reasonings, and he’s got Ethan’s breath ghosting so close to his mouth. He’s confused and cornered and free to take, he could be free to try and take what he wants, and he’s all mixed up, and Ethan’s holding his face, and that’s all.

‘Don’t you–?’ He’s almost too afraid to ask, but his life is already in shambles so he figures, something’s gotta give. ’Aren’t we going to kiss?’

‘Can’t decide, do you think we should?’

He’s infuriating. He’s a bloody plague. He’s soft and welcoming when Will tackles him down and presses his lips against his, and it’s like the proverbial flood gates. He kisses Ethan like he needs it to breathe, and he’s not gentle and not as coordinated as he should, but God, he wants . So much it’s like he’ll never stop, and also like he’ll die if he cannot stop. And Ethan is all he needs, all he wants, and he’s lavish. He pulls Will even closer, mouth welcoming and hands demanding, and it’s so much he pulls away with a pained gasp, the pleasure-pain of the cage taking a definitive turn for pain.

‘Do you… like that?’

Ethan’s voice is dubious, but it gets him to laugh at his predicament. He only thinks about it for a second. ‘Fuck no, I want it off.’

Ethan rolls him over so he’s laying on his back, and in any other situation he’d oppose someone approaching his dick with a lockpick, but he figures it’s not like they can go and actually find the key. Because this is Ethan, he gets the cage off in under a minute, and his strokes are so gentle in his aggravated flesh he could come, but he doesn’t want that.

‘I want you, Ethan, in me.’ Will pulls him back down, wrapping his legs around his waist, digging his fingers on his back, needing to let him know just how much he wants it. ’You were right, you were. When you said I’ve lost count of however many men have fucked me, and when you said it’s not enough, I know it’s not, and this is why.’

Apparently speechless, Ethan settles for an awestruck grin before he’s trying to get off his embrace, likely to reach for the lube in the nightstand. Will holds him down, though, and with a testing look pulls the older man’s reaching hand back and into his mouth. He  sucks and licks at his fingers, pulling off with a bite for good measure and a noise so pornographic he hopes helps jog Ethan’s memory.

‘You know what I do for fun, do you think I need more?’ Ethan frowns. ‘Do you think I want more?’

Ethan opens him roughly in response, and he loves him for that. He enters him with two fingers and, seeing how he can’t help but push into the intrusion, follows with a third without pause. Will writhes and gasps under him, and can’t stop asking for more, for his cock. When he finally gives it to him, it’s more intense than he could have expected, but also more tender.

He finds himself repeating how much he wants it, needs it, needs him, loves him like a mantra as he’s speared by Ethan. Nothing to ease the way but spit and precum, and the gentle rock of the older man’s hips into him, holding his legs at an angle that makes his brain shortcircuit, and all he can think is how deep Ethan is in him, and how big he feels, and how good they’re together; and Ethan’s composure snaps and he’s driving into him like a man desperate, whispering words that have him hide his face on the crook of his neck because he feels so debauched and divine hearing about how can Will be so tight when he’s seen exactly how hard he gets fucked, and how he’s being so loud there’s gonna be a queue outside the door because everyone wants a turn, and how Will better get used to this, because there’s no way he’s letting him run off to some other oligarch after getting a taste, and it’s that – somehow– that has his body seizing in ecstasy. He pulls Ethan so tightly into his own body he’s sure there’ll be bruises, and impossibly that has him giving it to him harder through his climax, and he honest to god forgets how to breathe for a moment.

He sighs into Ethan’s kiss, and from there figures out how to inhale at some point, and in no time he’s got enough air to start asking about the IMF. How they’d be poorer without him, right? And how come they’ve survived the inquest, and who in the hell sanctioned an operation that relies on Benji’s honeypotting abilities, and...

‘We’ve even got a new secretary, you know.’

‘Yeah, anyone I know?’

‘Do you know Alan Hunley?’

Will twists in his embrace so he can look at him and figure out whether he’s taking the mick. ‘What, the CIA’s Alan Hunley?’

Ethan looks amused. ‘Of course you know him.’

‘ Of course I know him. Christ, was this all a psyop to get me to go back so I can get him off your arse?’

And Ethan kisses him until he’s sure it’s not a psyop and he loves (loves!) him even if he’s not going back into the IMF but, even so, it would make for a better work environment to have someone who can bridge the gap between career politicians and field agents. Will’s glare is rendered ineffective by the way he cannot stop smiling as he wraps Ethan’s jacket around him and wonders whether Benji left anything of Ingram to bury.

 

Notes:

i don’t know shit about fuck and even less about bdsm so? if nothing about this is accurate well it’s not like the imf is real either.

this started bc i couldn't figure out Why was brandt being such a prick to jane and then i decided he Was actually jealous about the rich guy seduction. im sorry to myself

talking about praise i do think i deserve some for not naming ingram Rich(ard) Guy

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of ceptember