Chapter Text
Solomon Lane watched Ethan Hunt fruitlessly striking the glass. He watched the stunned, saddened expression that quickly turned rageful as Solomon shot the IMF agent in the head. The smoke grew. Obscured Ethan until all that could be seen was his hand against the glass until that too slipped away. Solomon’s agents would be here in just a moment to retrieve Ethan, but before they did, no point in wasting a resource. He bent down. Flipped open a small knife. He picked up the young shop girl’s arm. The skin split under his knife. Blood swelled just before his lips made contact.
Ilsa Faust usually did a very good job of controlling her facial and bodily reactions in any given situation. But in all fairness, that was because she was normally very good at reading people. Solomon Lane was not one of those people for Ilsa. When the gun fired, she genuinely thought she’d been shot. Just for a second until she heard the thud of the man’s body behind her. She only slightly glanced at the body while still keeping Lane in her sights. Though she couldn’t exactly determine what Lane’s next move was, it was clear the man was upset. He moved with a languidness that didn’t feel natural. That had irritation and impatience brimming underneath the surface as he placed the gun back on the table. He stood. Walked around the table.
He walked around her.
Ilsa turned her body. Her brow furrowed with a slight confusion as Lane momentarily seemed more concerned with the body on the hotel room floor. He bent his knees. Balanced on the balls of his feet as one hand carefully moved the corpse’s chin. Unblinking eyes rolled. Was he looking for something? Maybe some kind of lens in the eye? A listening device? Had Lane killed the man for a reason? Because he suspected something and not just to make a point?
Lane’s hand left the face. He leaned slightly forward. Picked up the dead man’s arm. He pulled the sleeve down. Ilsa’s eyes quickly searched for an explanation–
For the second time that day, Ilsa found herself unable to control her instinctual bodily reaction. She jolted at the slight sound. The wet squelch. She watched Lane bite into the arm. Nearly hard enough to rip off a chunk of flesh.
She’d heard rumors. Weird threats and nonsense claims. At least, she’d thought them all nonsense. Now, she reevaluated everything she had heard. What was this? Some weird obsession? Sexual? Cannibalistic? A psychological addiction? Or was he just trying to freak her out? If so, it was working. Even upon her first meeting, she’d deemed Lane a freak with his lack of personal space and chilling presence, but not quite this kind of freak. She tried to control her face as Lane dropped the arm without a care. He stood back up. Stepped over the corpse to stand far too close to Ilsa.
“And how will you find him?” Lane softly asked as if he hadn’t paused the previous conversation at all.
Ilsa turned to him. Her eyes instinctively found a spot of blood still on Lane’s lips. She had to force herself not to stare as their gazes met again. Ilsa spoke with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. Still put off by the whole show that had been placed in front of her. “I won’t have to. He’ll find me.”
Ilsa eyed the black umbrella. They were in England, but it didn’t look like it would suddenly start raining. It was an odd choice. Coupled with the dark clothes, it made Lane look even paler than he actually was as he stood against the yellow leaves and moss-covered headstones.
The moment they stepped away from Janik and his other associates, Lane took a deep breath. Suddenly paused. He turned on her. The shadow of the umbrella fell over her as Lane took her face in a harsh grip and leaned in.
“I see I wasn’t the first stop upon your return to London.”
Ilsa tried to think of a response as she flinched uncomfortably under the painful grip–
“There’s nothing on it.”
The words came as a shock. Just as much of a shock as Lane somehow knowing she’d met with someone before him. Despite Ilsa not understanding how the data could just be gone, Lane seemed to understand perfectly fine. “I know,” he hissed. Then, his words turned to Ilsa. “So, where is the disk?”
Benji jolted as the mask was pulled from his head. The back of his skull was pounding from where he’d been struck. His eyes quickly looked around. He recognized the face of the bone doctor. Recognized the face of the other associate from Ethan’s list of suspected Syndicate members. He started to struggle but stopped when his eyes landed on one last person in the room. He recognized Solomon Lane despite this being the first time they’d met in person. The man walked forward. Or maybe sauntered was almost a better word. Smug and full of himself, but Benji’s retort died on his lips as Lane drew a little closer. The man stopped just short. Made a gesture.
Janik pushed Benji’s chair forward. Out of the slight slant of direct sunlight coming from the large window behind Benji. Now Lane leaned in close. Benji felt the breath against his face. The slight, wet sound as Lane’s lips parted and he gave Benji a critical look. Benji desperately leaned away, but there was really nowhere for him to go. When Lane suddenly stood upright, Benji couldn’t help but shiver. Something occurred in the man’s eyes. A sudden spark that chilled Benji to his core. What had this complete fucking psychopath suddenly thought of?
“Five minutes,” Lane softly murmured.
Janik and the other associate moved immediately. The moment the door clicked shut, Lane grabbed Benji’s wrists. Yanked him forward and further from the window. Benji yelped in pain as his body was pulled against the restraints. The zip ties dug into his skin. Lane leaned in close again.
Benji’s heart hammered away in his chest. In one, foolish attempt, he tried to slam his skull forward. A desperate move to try and get Lane to take a god damn step back! But Lane dodged the attempted strike and grabbed Benji’s head lightning fast. Benji’s skull stung. Sharp pains traveling through his hairs pulled taunt. Lane forced Benji’s neck at an odd angle that produced another sharp cry of pain–
And then that cry turned higher pitched and more terrified as he felt teeth digging into his neck.
“Stop! Stop–” but Benji’s desperate, pained cries immediately became muffled as one of Lane’s hands covered his mouth. Hot tears quickly fell down Benji’s cheeks as the pain blossomed on his neck. And then, that pain stopped. For a split second. Only for Lane to suddenly bite farther down. More so over Benji’s shoulder rather than neck.
The second bite hurt a little less. At first, Benji thought maybe it was because the unexpectedness of the first bite had made the moment so much worse. Then, he realized how much his heart was slowing. How he wasn’t shaking nearly as badly, even if the tears were still creating a steady stream down his face. Shock seemed the next logical step as Lane pulled back. He rolled up Benji’s jacket sleeve. Yes, it was shock. Shock was why Benji didn’t jolt as he felt Lane’s teeth now piercing his arm.
But shock…wasn’t right…either.
Benji blinked. The motion was slow. Lackadaisical even. He tried to turn to see what Lane was doing. His head fell in an uncontrolled motion. There was a slight sting that came from his neck bending the open wounds, but it was a distant feeling. A discomfort that was quickly being overridden by warmth. He watched as Lane lifted his head just enough before biting down a third time.
An uncontrollable sigh left the back of Benji’s throat. Some part of him was thankful Lane didn’t seem to notice or care. A bigger part of him wasn’t embarrassed by the wanton noise. A part of himself that was growing as Benji’s body fully relaxed in Lane’s grasp.
Lane pulled back. Looked him over once more with a critical eye. It took about five seconds for Benji to complete a full blink. He felt drunk. Or high. The fear from before completely gone as a giggle left his lips and slurred words tumbled out. “What are you staring at?”
Those cold, blue eyes didn’t respond. Instead, Lane moved to Benji’s other arm. The sleeves were pushed up. Benji watched the bloodstained teeth make contact before the lips curled and covered up the actual act of biting. He felt the pressure. Then, the moment the teeth broke his skin again. Benji groaned. His body shifted slightly. Still uncomfortable but uncomfortable for a completely different reason now. When Lane moved to bite down in a second spot, Benji’s arm pushed slightly upwards. Like he was trying to make it easier for Lane. Meet the man’s jaw halfway. A whimper left the back of Benji’s throat, but it was decidedly not from pain as another moan quickly followed the other noise.
Benji watched through half lidded eyes as Lane straightened his back. He wiped his mouth with the black sleeve of his turtleneck before pulling out a knife. Benji couldn’t even muster up the energy to be afraid. He should be afraid. He should be fucking terrified.
Instead, a soft, contented hum moved through Benji’s body. His eyes followed the motion of the knife. His cocked twitched between his legs.
But the blade didn’t pierce his skin. Not that it mattered much. It probably could have cut Benji deep and all Benji would have felt was a tickle. But no, Lane rolled up his own sleeve. Dug the blade in deep and dragged it halfway up his own forearm.
“That was a silly thing to do,” slurred Benji.
Lane didn’t respond. Instead, he moved up close to Benji’s side. Got in a position where his bloodied arm could be pressed to Benji’s face. Benji’s lips met the bloodied skin. He shot Lane a drunken, confused look out of the corner of his eyes.
A sudden, harsh pull of Benji’s hair had him instinctually gasping and Solomon pressing his arm more harshly against his now open mouth. Benji’s tongue automatically flicked outwards. Tasted iron on the tip.
This was bound to be unsanitary.
The thought had a muffled laugh escaping Benji. It felt stupid to be concerned of sanitization when this man had already bitten him multiple times all over his body. Solomon pushed his arm harder against Benji. The motion was uncomfortable against Benji’s jaw but not painful. He really should be scared. Scared shitless and confused but instead, he suddenly bit down hard. A small act of retaliation that caused another amused giggle to rumble up in the back of his throat.
See? thought Benji. I can bite back just as well.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Lane’s expression suddenly shifted from cold and calculating to momentarily amused. He pulled his arm back from Benji. Dug the blade into his skin for a second time-or. It should have been the second time. That was weird. Benji couldn’t see where the first cut had occurred. Had Lane slid the blade over the exact same point on his skin?
When Lane brought his arm to Benji a second time, this time, Benji met him halfway. He leaned forward and bit down. A weird, satisfying thrill ran through him at the small act of fight. Even as a distant voice in the back of his mind tried to remind himself that if Lane didn’t want this for some weird reason, Benji wouldn’t be able to do this.
The scent of blood filled Benji’s nose. The back of his throat. A soft sigh travelled through him at the feeling of his lips against skin. Like a cursed kiss as his tongue flicked out and over the open wound.
Or he’d thought it had been open. Only Lane pulled back for a third time, cut into his arm once more, and then presented it to Benji a final time.
Benji could barely see his previous two bite marks despite knowing he’d bitten down hard enough to break skin. He simply bit down again. Even harder than before. He felt Lane’s fingers in his hair. A petting motion that had Benji groaning against Lane’s skin until Lane suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. It should have hurt like when Lane first grabbed him and bit down, but all that left Benji was a contented sigh. He slowly blinked again. It took seven seconds for his eyes to fully open again. The knife had disappeared. Lane’s sleeve rolled down, hiding any of the damage. The man wiped a speck of blood from the corner of his mouth. Benji’s eyes followed the motion as Lane’s tongue quickly lapped it up.
Janik and that other associate from before stepped in. Had only five minutes really passed? It felt like hours had gone by.
“Get him ready,” Lane softly murmured.
Benji blinked in confusion. The blink only took four seconds this time. He still felt that warmth, but his willingness to go along with everything was slowly becoming weaker as that worry began to filter back to the forefront of his mind. His sensitive nerves and his bodily reactions felt more confusing now. Unsettling as his mind finally questioned the heightened desire running straight to his cock. If they were supposed to be getting him ready for something now, then what the hell had the last five minutes been for?