Q knew it was a bad idea to invite James Bond, womanizer, heartbreaker, libertine… lover, up to his flat.
Title: How To Shag Your Quartermaster (Properly)
Author: Chestnut NOLA
Fandom: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall
Genre: Romance and humor
Warnings: Explicit sex (Porn with Plot)
Word Count: 7,299
Part 3 (Prequel): The Worth of Your Doorway
This story is the third in the series and can be read as a stand-alone. It is recommended that parts one and two be read first as there are minor spoilers at the end for The Worth of Your Doorway.
The sharp taste of his bitter pint was heavenly after the long day he’d put in. Q could feel the tension in his shoulders start to ease with the taste of his golden brew, surrounded by the ambiance of his favorite neighborhood pub, the Queen & Crescent. The warmth of aged wood, the clink of glassware, and the low murmur of the footie on the television over the bar sank into Q’s bones, the feeling not unlike the comfort of his little flat down the street. He’d needed this, a cold lager with a hot meal, after standing so long guiding 004 on his mission in Prague.
The scrape of the chair across from him startled Q out of his beer meditation.
“Do you mind if I join you, Q?” James Bond asked while he opened the buttons of his navy pea coat.
“Doubl… Bond!” Q sputtered before gathering his wits to be polite. “Of course not.”
Bond threw his coat over the back of the chair before taking a seat, “Thank you.”
He’d not seen James Bond since he’d returned his equipment from his last mission the week prior, though return was a strong word for the pieces of metal and plastic he’d gifted Q with. Even Q’s strop over the state of his tech hadn’t dampened 007’s spirits, and he’d received his Quartermaster’s scolding with an amused curl to his lips, until Q had thrown his hands up in disgust and ordered the agent out of his branch.
It had been six months since Skyfall, and while 007 continued to be an exemplary, if destructive, agent, Q had noted the grim aura that had surrounded him since M’s death had started to ease in the last few months. It was a relief to see it, and Q hoped the agent’s grieving over the death of his former boss would continue to lessen as time went on. Q’s interactions with Bond continued to be an enjoyable part of his job, apart from the destruction of his tech. In the months after Skyfall, 007 had been extremely subdued, angry and somber. But Q continued to treat the agent as he had when they first met, pleasant and stroppy on occasion with a good amount of sarcasm thrown in. Q couldn’t coddle his agents, and 007 was no exception. It didn’t matter that 007 was Q’s favorite Double-O, or that he had an epic crush on the agent, getting the job done, and bringing MI6’s agents home alive, was all important.
Thinking of crushes, it was the first time Q had seen James Bond out of a suit. Bond was sexy enough in his bespoke amour, but in a casual blue shirt open at the throat that brought out the color of his penetrating azure eyes, and soft looking jeans with a brown belt hugging his sturdy hips, the man was bloody sexy. It was a travesty in Q’s opinion that James Bond seemed to only be interested in women. Not that he had a hope in hell of ever gaining the agent’s amorous attentions, but a man could dream.
“Did you follow me?” Q asked, wanting to kick himself immediately for the rude question.
“No, Q. I live a few streets over,” James said, waving the waitress over to order his own pint.
“Huh… I haven’t seen you around the neighborhood, did you just move in?” Q inquired, a bit befuddled with the thought that 007 was his neighbor.
Amused, James Bond was amused with Q’s interrogation. The slight smirk that curved his lips was evidence enough of that. “I bought the place about three months ago, but as you know, have been traveling quite a bit. I decided to get out to explore the neighborhood before I head out to Malaysia tomorrow. So my being here isn’t nefarious, Q. I just happened to walk by and decided to stop in to get a drink.”
“Oh, ok then, welcome to the neighborhood,” Q said raising his pint in a toast to his new neighbor. Just what he needed, his Double-O crush living a few streets over.
The waitress came back over with Bond’s drink. She was a pretty little petite blond thing who was giving Bond an admiring once-over, “Can I get you anything else, love?”
Q cleared his throat aggravated at the charming smile Bond was giving her, “I’d like to order.”
“What’s good here?” Bond asked, and at least his blue eyes were back on Q when he asked the question.
“I always come in for the fish and chips, they’re the best thing on the menu,” Q stated.
Bond gave the waitress a wink, “We’ll both have the fish and chips.”
James Bond could charm the pants off anybody, Q thought, watching the woman smile shyly at the agent before leaving them alone. He blurted, “You never turn it off, do you?”
“Turn what off?” he questioned. Q’s cheeks started to get warm under the agent’s inquiring stare.
“Nothing, never mind,” Q replied, hiding his discomfort as best he could with another sip of his drink.
Bond raised a brow, but let Q’s comment go to his relief. “How long have you lived in Bayswater, Q?”
“Just going on two years,” Q replied. “My mortgage is gigantic for the size of my flat, but I really like the area.”
“Me too, though I haven’t been home much lately to enjoy it,” Bond said. “Having the park so close is great for running.”
“I enjoy walking, running is not really something I do well,” Q said, wiry. “I usually end up tripping over my own feet, and scraping my knees and hands all to hell if I attempt it, so brisk walking it is for me.”
“You just need someone to teach you how to do it properly,” Bond stated giving Q an encouraging, if smug, smile.
Q shook his head, “Oh no… just no, Bond. I am definitely not made for running, unless I have a very, very good reason.”
“You can call me James off the clock, Q,” he replied.
“Fine, James. And no, you don’t have to teach me how to run. I’ve run from bullies all my life and can be fast if I need to be,” Q smiled. “But, just for general exercise, it is definitely not my cup of tea.”
Bond’s smile widened at Q’s words and he couldn’t help but stare. Good god, he had it bad. The man was so handsome when he smiled fully. Their conversation was interrupted by their meals being placed in front of them. Q closed his eyes to savor the smell of delightful fish and chips, the scent of the battery ambrosia set his stomach to gurgling in anticipation. Bond had an odd look on his face that Q couldn’t decipher when he opened his eyes. It was laser sharp and focused on his face, causing his cheeks to heat again. The look was only on his face for a few seconds, but it took Q aback a bit, wondering what the man was thinking. Maybe 007 thought it was undignified for a man to sniff his meal so obviously prior to taking a bite? Q doubted that he’d figured it out; subtle human behaviors often flummoxed him. Well, he was too hungry to try right now, so he turned his attention back to his meal. A little vinegar, some added salt, a bit of tomato sauce for his chips, and he was ready to tuck into his meal. The flavor burst on his tongue and little hums of satisfaction involuntarily escaped him.
“This is excellent, I can see why you’re making porn noises,” Bond said, chewing his first bite thoughtfully.
Q’s eyes popped open. “I am not making porn noises!”
Bond was grinning at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “Q, I’ve watched you rapture over your plate for the last few minutes. I’m sorry, but the way you’re eating your fish and chips is practically pornographic.”
His face was on fire, “Good god! I’m not pornographic, you arse!”
Laugher erupted from Bond at Q’s out burst. Shocked, Q could only stare at 007’s uncontrollable mirth, the agent’s head thrown back with his hand slapping the tabletop. It was surreal to see the agent so relaxed and happy that Q was speechless with his fork halfway to his mouth. Bond did have a good sense of humor, their time working together had made that evident to Q, but often it seemed the agent’s humor was a deflection to keep his real personality in the shadows. This man, sitting across from Q, who’d lost so much in his life, was so different from the Double-O agent he knew from work. For the first time, Q could see beyond the façade and it was amazing. There was a greatness—charisma really—that always radiated from within Bond, but seeing some of his secret self made the agent even more attractive to Q than usual, it was jarring. Bond’s laughter eventually wound down to a fit of high-pitched giggling, and Q was brought out of his shocked zone by his fork full of fish plopping back down onto his plate.
“I’m sorry,” Bond chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but your face when you said that was just too much, Q.”
Q gave him a sniff of affront to hide his attraction to the agent’s allure, “Yes well, you giggle like a two-year old.”
Bond just gave him a carefree smile before tucking back into his meal.
“How can you say that?” Q erupted. “You’re just wrong wrong wrong! Star Trek V is nowhere near as bad as Star Trek: The Motion Picture. It was like watching bloody paint dry!”
“At least the first one had a plot to speak of, Q,” James argued, nudging Q with his shoulder as they walked.
Q hadn’t had so much fun just talking with another person besides his twin sister, Amelia in a very long time. It made him warm inside, that James Bond, agent 007, all around lady’s man, assassin, and spy, was a closet geek. Over the course of their meal, Q’s crush had escalated to unbearable levels as they discussed books, politics, and fandom. A heated debate had ensued about whether Sherlock Homes and John Watson were secretly lovers or just very close friends. They’d both read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books and plots, characters, and cases were discussed in detail. As was the latest BBC series, as well as the intentions of the creators in regards to queer baiting their audience. Q of course was on the side of secret lovers and queer baiting, while James was insistent Q was reading too much into the subtext of the books and show. They’d not come to an agreement, except that Benedict Cumberbatch was excellent in everything he did.
“Well, we’re just going to have to sit down and watch all six films at some point,” Q stated. “Including critiques to determine who’s correct, but I know I’m right! You’re just not willing to admit it.”
James was giving Q an appeasing smile. “Next time I have some down time, we’ll get together for a marathon.”
“Good,” Q nodded. “Can we at least agree to the CG horror of the Star Wars prequels? I love computers and graphics, obviously, but too much of it in film makes the whole thing look like a bloody cartoon.”
“I’ll give you that one, Q,” James said as they came to a stop in front of Q’s building. “The acting was excruciating in those as well.”
“Hmmm, Ewen MacGregor and Natalie Portman couldn’t save the damn things at all,” Q agreed. “Well, this is me.”
James looked up at Q’s brick art deco building for a moment before bringing those bright blue eyes back to him. Butterflies exploded in Q’s tum with James’ eyes raking over his countenance. His gaze was soft and pleased with a bit of heat in it that Q hadn’t noticed before. His own eyes widened when he felt large hands grasp his cheeks and before he knew what was happening, supple plush lips had captured his own.
Good god! James Bond was kissing him, Q thought, before his brain seized as want surged within him. His slight frame stiff in shock for a second, thawed with the heat of James’ kiss. Q sighed and relaxed into the feathery touches and taste of the man whose arms had wrapped around his waist and shoulders. Soft passion and delicate playfulness coaxed Q to open his mouth for James to delve into its depths. Q’s heart was fluttering wildly within his chest at being in James Bond’s arms, his loins tightened with a pulsing throb when his tongue was captured with a gentle suck.
James released his lips with a small gasp, both of them were panting, and the warmth of James’ breaths against his wet lips sent a stab of desire through Q’s frame. James was holding him tight, close against the hard heat of his solid body. Even though they were of a similar height, Q felt small in the agent’s arms, but it wasn’t a dangerous feeling. It was safe to be surrounded by his agent.
“Invite me up, Q,” James murmured, rubbing the tip of his nose against Q’s. His blue eyes were half-lidded with fire in their depth as they looked at Q’s face. Oh god, James Bond really did want him in that way, though the thought skittered away when he was pulled closer to that large frame. Their hard cocks meeting between them jolted Q out of the sensual haze the agent had woven around him.
“This is a bad idea,” he breathed, a bit cross eyed with James’ face so close to his own.
James rubbed his nose against Q’s again as he murmured, “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” he replied stepping back from the embrace. Q grasped James’ hand before adding, “It’s a terrible idea.”
Then, without another word, pulled the agent up the steps and into the building. Q had no sooner pressed the button to his floor, than James gently pressed his back into the wall of the lift to capture his lips again. He gently tugged Q’s dark locks back, deepening the kiss with a soft hum of enjoyment. The pleasure of it caused Q to grasp those broad shoulders hard with his hands, pulling James’ warmth even closer. Q had never been so lustful for another person before. He’d of course had a few lovers in the past, but the craving he had for James was intense and unique in his experience. Q gave himself over to the warmth of being in the agent’s arms, melting into his kisses, giving control of his body and mind over to the hunger he was feeling.
The ding of the lift pulled them apart somewhat, though James kept a possessive arm around Q’s waist as he slid the decorative iron gate open.
“Oh! Hello love,” his neighbor, Mrs. Hamilton greeted, smiling. She’d obviously been waiting for the lift.
“Mrs. H!” he squeaked out. Q was already red in the face from the snogging he’d been on the receiving end of, but his ears went red hot at seeing his elderly neighbor. He could just imagine what he must look like, ravished with swollen lips, spiky hair, and spectacles askew. James Bond of course was not at all embarrassed for having been caught in flagrante delicto. He just gave Mrs. Hamilton a wink and a charming smile with an ‘evening ma’am’ as he pulled Q out of the lift and headed down the hall.
“Have a lovely evening dear, be safe!” she said. “And do take care, young man. It’s been quite sometime since he’s had a date over.”
Q was going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment, but before he did he just gave her a weak little wave as the lift closed its doors on her smiling visage. James was chuckling in his ear by the time they made it to Q’s door.
“Been awhile, Q?” he asked, nuzzling into the back of Q’s head.
“Oh, be quiet you git!” Q replied fumbling to get the door open with James wrapped around him like an overly large sloth. He squeaked again when James gave him a hard squeeze in response.
James released him as the door opened to his little plum colored flat. Q disarmed the alarm system while James stalked down the short hall that opened into his small living room. Q heard his babies giving the agent some inquisitive meows while he hung up his coat beside the door and slipped off his trainers. The pair of them were being petted on the top of the sofa arching under James’ hands by the time Q made into the flat proper.
“Who are these guys?” he asked, smiling at the felines he was stroking.
“Alan is the gray one and Steve is the orange,” Q replied standing next to him to greet his cats.
James chuckled, “Alan and Steve?”
“Yes,” Q sniffed, affronted. “Alan Turning and Steve Wozniak.”
“Only you, Q would name your cats after the father of computer science, and one of the co-founders of Apple Computers,” he laughed. The hard plains and angles of James’ face were softened by his amusement, and the heat in Q’s tum fluttered again at seeing how relaxed the agent was in his space. Their hands met again and again in the soft fur of his cats weaving under their palms.
Feeling bold, Q brought a hand up to James’ cheek pulling him down into another kiss. James pulled him close again giving in to Q’s insistent lips; a gentle tugging by the hand in his hair caused his nipples to start tingling under his shirt. Q gave himself over to James’ greedy kisses, the wet sounds of their lips and tongues dueling carnal in the quiet of the room. Q pulled away to get some much-needed air, gasping at the ceiling with James’ hot mouth nipping down his throat. Large hands flowed down his back, griping his buttocks hard.
“Oi!” he burst out, clutching broad shoulders as he was lifted, and James urged his legs to wrap tight around the agent’s waist. James captured his lips again for a hard kiss before retreating, just holding Q effortlessly in the middle of his living room. His azure eyes were almost black, pupils blown. The arousal on his face stunned Q mute.
“Bedroom, Q?” he rumbled, his low voice sent a shudder of trepidation down Q’s spine. This was such a bad idea. If he allowed this to continue, he’d just be another notch on 007’s bedpost. Granted a male notch, but it wasn’t like James Bond would come back to him once the passion was spent. It was idiotic for Q to have allowed the man to continue to kiss him senseless in the first place. It was monumentally stupid to allow him into Q’s bed.
He knew it was going to just hurt him in the end, but Q wanted this man so much he knew he wasn’t going to say no. He never said no to James, except for the exploding pen request. Q had one chance to be with his obsession. He could tell James Bond to leave, and wonder if he’d made the right decision, or he could take a chance, be with the agent in the most intimate of ways and hope for more in the future. Either way, he was screwed, so he might as well enjoy it while he had the opportunity, and bemoan his fate tomorrow.
“Behind you, through the hall,” he replied, his voice faint around his panting breaths. For a change 007 didn’t smirk, just gave Q another hard kiss, before turning to stalk down the hall with purpose. God it was hot, he thought clutching the agent’s shoulders while his cock was rubbed distractingly against his future bedmate’s.
Q got sidetracked on the journey by James’ ear, so up close and personal that he tucked his mouth close to give it a bit of a nibble. Q was attracted to many things about James Bond, his devotion to his country, his humor, and fighting nature. But, physically Q found that James’ pronounced ridiculous ears were at the top of his list, closely followed by the agent’s fabulous posterior and vibrant blue eyes. The triad of James’ features, plus his natural charisma, had the power to divert Q’s attention from his work on a regular basis. It was maddening.
James leaned into Q’s mouth, encouraging the caresses with a soft hum coming from the back of his throat, and a tightening grip to Q’s behind. James’ ear was just as delectable as he’d fantasized in the wee hours of the morning. The musk of his skin combined with his subtle spicy cologne filled Q’s nose. It made him euphoric to the point he just wanted to rub that scent all over himself and wallow in it for as long as he was allowed. The aroma made his cock wet and aching in his pants.
Q’s nesting was interrupted when he was bore down into his unmade bed, that large body blanketing him in it’s heavy heat, and his lips taken prisoner again by James’ mouth. Whimpers escaped him with James delving deep into his mouth, hands hard in his dark hair, and heavy hips rubbing their cocks together between his thighs. He was being overwhelmed in the best way possible, unable to do more than clutch at James’ shoulders through the woolen coat still covering them.
James nipped at his chin before suckling at Q’s neck, stretching his olive green jumper’s high neck out of the way to bite hard at the join of his neck and shoulder. The pleasant pain of the bite caused Q to arch and hump up harder against James’ flanks with a soft grunt. James unceremoniously swiped Q’s spectacles off his face before sitting back on his heels, pulling Q’s jumper over his head.
“Hello Kitty, Q?” James chuckled. It took a moment to register he was laughing at the t-shirt Q was wearing.
“She was created in 1974 and is a essential part of Kawaii Japanese pop culture,” Q huffed with a frown, too desperately horny to deal with the agent’s amusement gracefully.
James raised a brow, “I just thought she was just something cute.”
“Oh, just shut up,” Q growled struggling to get his shirt off. Chuckles were still coming from his bed partner, but James assisted Q in getting out of his shirt. Hello Kitty went sailing across the room as she was tossed over the agent’s shoulder.
“You’re so cute when you’re irritated,” James stated, grinning down at him. Q flopped back onto his bed in disgust at James’ teasing. He leaned back over him, grasping the sides of Q’s face. “Adorable.”
“I’m not, humph!” Q’s protest was cut off by another passionate kiss. His surliness washed away with the heat of it. The wool of James’ coat and the buttons on his shirt were scratching the sensitive skin of his chest peaking his nipples tighter. They were throbbing in time to the ache in his prick, and Q couldn’t help but rub as much of his skin against James as he was able.
Q protested softly when James’ lips released his mouth to nip his chin and suckle down his throat. He lost his grip on James’ coat, but his hands clenched over those ears when that hot mouth captured one of his nipples. It was so erotic to see that blond head roam over his chest in the soft light of the moon coming in from his window. The bulk of the man in his bed was dark in the low light, an incubus with the reflection of the light on his hair, and the warmth of that mouth on his skin.
Shivers were running through Q’s torso with James’ lips and finger tips smoothing down his body, a ticklish suck and kiss was given to his belly button before he rubbed his face in the downy trail of hair that led down into Q’s trousers. Q’s back bowed when James buried his face in the heat of his groin, rubbing and mouthing his hardness, the barrier of his trousers a frustrating tease.
“You’re so wet,” James whispered.
Q slapped his hands over his face, embarrassed. His embarrassment didn’t last though with the opening of the flies on his trousers.
“Oh, thank god,” he murmured when his cock was finally released from the cage of material, the cool air of the flat rushed over his heated flesh, tingling. James worked his pants and trousers down his thighs and off, before smiling again as he removed Q’s lime green and pink striped socks.
James’ eyes were black in the darkness; he was immense sitting still as a statue between Q’s splayed thighs. His large hands became heated vises spreading Q’s legs wider, exposing every part of him to that dark gaze. If Q hadn’t been so frantic from the attention he’d received, he might have been more disconcerted under James’ stare than he already was. Those dark azure eyes were raking down his frame, hands softly playing with the skin of his inner thighs, teasing him with the hope he’d finally take Q’s cock in hand.
“Gorgeous,” was the word that was whispered from James’ lips, and Q’s stomach clenched disquietly in response to the reverent tone of the word spoken.
James pressed his knees apart hard before bending to lick up the shaft of Q’s cock.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned faintly, arching at the feeling of James’ tongue running slowly up his prick.
That hot tongue swirled around the head, gathering the pre-cum there before taking Q’s cock almost to the root with a satisfied hum. Q grabbed hold of those ears again and his eyes rolled back in his head as he arched into the prickling cresting pleasure of that warm wet place. His balls received soft rubs and the combination of those rubs and James soft suckling mouth caused waves of heat and pressure to build in his prick. The pleasure of it shivered through his body with just the barest scrape of teeth on his shaft. James Bond was a master, handling Q’s body like he handled weaponry, with assurance and dedication. Fingers pressing on his perineum, followed by James taking his prick into his throat, sheared a cresting rush through Q’s frame. He whined as his body seized, his cock pulsing strongly into the wet heat surrounding it. The last of his release was caught by the tip of James’ tongue lapping at the head, with Q shuddering under his palms.
Limp, Q panted and stared at the ceiling in shock. He felt James manipulate his legs to straighten them before the weight in his bed left for a moment. His bedside lamp clicked on and James Bond was sitting on the edge of his bed, still in his damn pea coat, smiling down at the mess that was Q. There was a little bit of cum at the corner of his mouth, and Q found it hard not to stare at the little piece of himself still on those swollen, cherry red lips.
“Alright?” James asked, stroking Q’s sweaty locks away from his forehead.
Q just continued to pant and stare for a long moment, before blurting, “You’re a menace!”
James’ smile became a smug grin in response, and Q could tell he was pleased as punch with Q’s opinion of him.
“I just wanted to make sure to take the edge off, since according to your neighbor it’s been quite some time for you,” he said.
Q slapped his hands over his face again, “Oh my god! You cock!”
James removed Q’s hands from his face, his smile widened at seeing Q’s petulant expression. He shuddered at the taste of himself on James’ lips when they softly took his own in a sweet kiss. Q clutched his blond head, licking into James’ mouth to chase the sharp tang still on his tongue. He was panting a bit when James moved back, those blue eyes still blown with desire, the plains and angles of his face were still sharp with arousal gazing down at Q.
Q sat up and crossed his legs; his cock was still heavy and plump lying across his slim thigh. He was too irritated to be embarrassed at this point, so just raised a brow at his bed partner and ordered, “Get your fine arse naked for godsakes!”
“So stroppy for a man who’s just cum,” James replied, but stood and pulled his coat down his arms.
“You’d drive a man to drink, James,” Q stated, raising his brow higher when a strip of condoms and lube landed on the bed. “Do you always walk around with condoms and lube in your pocket?” Then added when James pulled his gun out of the other pocket, “and your PPK?”
He left his coat in heap on the floor, fingers working the buttons of his shirt when he replied, “Well, you know how it is, Q. Sometimes these things could go either way.”
The agent was looking so pleased with himself that Q couldn’t help but return his smile. Anticipation was fluttering low in his tum while he waited to finally see that glorious body in the all together.
James’ shirt came off with sure fingers, smoothing down his shoulders, caressing the golden skin Q couldn’t wait to feel against his own. Scars were stark little road maps throughout his torso, some white with age and others still pink from recent healing. The puckered divot on his right shoulder from Moneypenny’s shot was light and shadow on the smooth skin surrounding it. James toed off his boots before opening the flies to his jeans. Q’s mouth went dry as the worn cotton was skimmed down his legs and he got a quick glimpse of his sizable cock. Of course, James was elegant in everything he did, even in removing his feet from the cage of his pants and socks.
Good god, the man was well put together, Q thought. The notion skittered away as James moved close to let Q look his fill. The musk of him was heavy in Q’s nose, and his cock gave a little twitch at the scent. Fascinated, Q placed the tips of his fingers in the hollow of James’ throat and slowly ran them down the soft skin of his sternum. His rose hued nipples peaked when Q’s fingers passed between them on their way down his belly. His skin was so soft over top of the hardness of his musculature, almost baby soft with a modest covering of downy blond hair. James had an inny, which Q circled for a moment, testing the strength of the muscles cutting through his abdomen under that sweet little navel. Q followed the slightly thicker trail of darker hair below, but his fingers didn’t get far before the head of James’ cock interrupted the invisible line he’d been drawing.
After a slight hesitation, Q’s fingers continued their journey down the length of that heated shaft. He heard James take a deep breath at the feel of Q’s fingers, his blond head back and eyes closed in obvious enjoyment of the touch. Of course, James Bond was packing a sizable cock, and a pair of lovely plush balls, in his trousers. The man had more testosterone than anyone Q had ever met coursing through his veins. The bloody monster was eight inches at least in length, though Q figured James wouldn’t be amenable to having it measured at the moment. He shivered at the thought he would soon have that beautiful prick in him. James was cut unlike Q, and he was enthralled—he’d never had a lover who was cut before—swirling his fingertips around the damp head, before stroking down the length to test the weight of the balls below. Soft skin, heat and hardness framed by dark blond curls, James’ flesh was flushed and throbbing under Q’s pale hand.
“Q…” he rumbled low in his throat.
“What?” Q replied distracted by running his palms down and around James’ hard thighs. The man had no fat on him to speak of. He was all muscle, tendon, and sinew, covered in supple golden skin. Q’s loins tightened seeing all that hot flesh under his hands. He was just considering having a taste, when his wrists were grabbed hard in James’ large hands.
Q hadn’t realized it until his attention was back on James’ face that his teasing touches and intense study had inflamed him to the point he was close to coming. He was panting and flushed all over, his cock dribbling pre-cum freely down the shaft to gather in the soft curls at its base. James’ jaw was clenched tight, brow furrowed with color high on his cheeks, and his eyes were even darker with barely a ring of blue to be seen. The power Q had over James in that moment was stunning, and extremely satisfying.
“You’ll have plenty of time to play, Q,” he growled. “We have all night.”
“But… Oi!” Q’s protest was cut off with James manhandling him back down onto the bed, covering him from head to toe in fevered skin. “Oh, fuck! Yes.”
Q’s mouth was again taken in a passionate, deep kiss; the feel of that heavy body surrounding him was marvelous. James was almost mindless kissing and gripping Q tight. Gasps and small hums of enjoyment escaped between their lips as their cocks rubbed together, smooth with the damp of pre-cum and the sheen of sweat on their skins. Q felt like he’d not even had an orgasm yet he was so aroused by having James’ under his hands.
“Can I have you, Q?” he whispered, with soft pecks to Q’s lips.
Q gripped that blond head with both hands to look into those black eyes, James Bond was the most beautiful man Q had ever known. A spy and a killer no doubt, but with a moral code of his own making and a secret sweetness in his soul he never let people see. But, he’d let Q see that sweetness tonight, and Q wanted him all the more because of it.
Gazing into James’ face, fierce with desire, Q deflected to hide his own enthrallment of the man with, “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Of course you can have me!”
James’ lips curled in admiration and amusement as he took in Q’s visage below. There was relief in that gaze, as well as anticipation, before the view was obstructed by James kissing him deliriously, hands soft in Q’s dark hair. He undulated his body over Q’s in a reverent embrace with a satisfied groan. Q’s splayed thighs widened in response, tucking high along James’ sides, arching into the movement with whimpers that were caught by James’ mouth.
Q made a soft sound of protest when James sat back on his heels, pulling Q close, his slim thighs over the wide spread of James’. His body bowed with James running his palm down the length of Q’s torso.
“Your bones are so fine,” James murmured, quiet and contemplative, skimming his hands past Q’s flanks. “Delicate, beautiful.”
Q couldn’t even speak around his gasping breaths and clenched frame, hot and throbbing underneath James’ hands and eyes. He was so hard and aching, he felt on the edge of coming again, just with James sitting gorgeous between his legs. Q didn’t think he could take anymore teasing, and insistently fumbled around the bedclothes to find the condoms and lube. He wasn’t successful, but James finally got with the program, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he pulled the necessities to him. He trailed the items across Q’s belly, tormenting the boffin with anticipation.
“Good god! If you don’t get on with it, I’ll be sending you out on your next mission in just a pair of pants!” Q erupted, irritated and so frenzied he couldn’t think straight.
James’ smile was wolfish when he replied, “Well, we can’t have that.”
Q exhale was sharp at the feel of James softly gripping and stroking his cock. The blue-eyed menace was focused on Q, watching his reactions intently as he writhed, arched, and squeaked occasionally under James’ hands. Wet warmth smoothed down the supple skin behind his balls, and Q tried to keep his eyes on his lover when he felt the tips of James’ fingers rub over his hole. It was difficult not to close his eyes and wallow in the touches he was receiving, supple pulls to his cock, gentle rolling and tugging of his balls, the tickling of fingertips exploring the sensitive skin of his flanks and inner thighs, all distracting from the initial burn of fingers breaching his hole.
“You’re going to feel so good around me, Q,” James said, hushed in the quiet of their panting breaths.
Q closed his eyes, a whimper escaping, and his back arching, at James’ finger brushing and pressing against his prostate. He gripped the sheets at his sides tight, the pressure of being stretch exquisite. James’ hands and fingers concentrating on his loins caused ripples of prickling soft sensation on the outside, with added sharp pulses on the inside, to wash over Q. It was so good, Q could only throw his head back on the pillow, and take the pleasure James was giving him. Three fingers were almost unbearable, until his muscles softened to allow them in fully. James kept up his teasing touches inside and out, and Q was became heedless of anything else but the cresting and receding pleasure James was creating.
Q yelped when one final sharp bump of those fingers to that spot inside almost sent him over the edge, but James circled the base of his cock hard aborted Q’s release. James’ hands were removed and Q lay panting, watching as a condom was rolled down that magnificent cock.
“Come here,” he slurred, and reached with his arms to James when he finished slicking up. “‘m ready.”
Q pulled James into his arms, kissing him soft and sure, circling his legs up and high along his lover’s sides. Anticipation was churning in his tum at the feel of the blunt head of James’ cock at his entrance. The breach when it came had them both groaning softly into each other’s mouths.
“Fuck, you’re so soft, Q,” James sighed. “So tight.”
He took his time to burrow his prick slowly into Q, allowing him to become used to the bulk of it. It hurt a little, having been so long since he’d last had sex, but Q welcomed the minor brief pain. Q was kissing every part of James he could reach, his lips, his neck, and those adorable ears, before grabbing handfuls of those gorgeous buttocks to pull James in the rest of the way. They both arched, humming against each other’s lips, at the moment James bottomed out.
“Fuck, Q,” James swore softly, holding still until Q gave his behind a squeeze.
“Oh god, you’re so big, it’s fantastic,” Q said. He gave James’ buttock a slap when he heard a short giggle in his ear.
James pulled Q’s head back to kiss him deep and finally started to move in and out, slowly using his whole body to roll and rub against Q’s skin. There were few words after that, panting breaths, deep wet kisses, undulating against each other to find the perfect angle. The pace was slow and sure and Q figured if he was ever allowed to come, he’d probably die of a heart attack. James Bond knew exactly how to use his body to make Q’s eyes cross with pleasure.
Q threw his head back with the stinging pleasure of James moving in him and over him. The fullness and the heat inside of him was perfect, and he thought he might have said it at one point with James giving him an agreeable hum against his lips. James’ thrusts became faster, and the hard muscles of his belly rubbing against Q’s prick ratchet up the ebb and flow of pleasurable pressure radiating from his sex. Q’s shoulders were gripped hard and his legs clenched around James’ sides, holding on for dear life, when his thrusts became hard and fast. Q was keening into James’ mouth as the tingling ache in his cock crested, jetting hot cum between them. James’ hips powered Q through his climax, almost desperate, groaning with the clenching of Q’s walls around his cock. Q watched, panting, as James reached his peak with a quiet hitching breath, that golden body trembling taunt above him and deep within him, Q felt James’ cock throb along his sensitive walls. It was the most erotic thing Q had ever seen or felt and he willingly pulled that sated body back down over his own, circling James’ limp frame with his arms and legs. He wanted to hold James close for as long as he was allowed. Q hoped it wouldn’t be for the last, and only, time.
James gazed down at the exhausted sprawl that was Q. He was all alabaster lanky limbs in the luminous light of the full moon. Beautiful and ethereal, stroppy and adorable too, in James’ mind. He’d had his Quartermaster three times throughout the night, frenetic and intense, fervent and worshipful, soft and sweet. He wanted more, needed more of this man who’d become his anchor in the last months. It probably wasn’t healthy, this obsession, but James knew it was what he’d been looking for, for a very long time.
The more time James’ spent with Q at work and in his ear, the grief and guilt he’d been wallowing in after M’s death had started to ease. It was his fault she was gone. It had been his plan to use her to lure Silva, and M had paid the price for his arrogance. The job was all he had, and it was no longer enough with his anchor gone, the person he came home to every time. Yes, he came home to England, to MI6, but M had always been there too. The one steady thing in his life of killing and mayhem for Queen and Country, without her, MI6 hadn’t been enough to keep him from his recklessness and desperation to feel something, anything else, besides regret and remorse. He didn’t have a death wish, but after her death he’d not cared one way or another if he did die on mission. There’d be no one there to morn his passing anyway.
Now there was Q, bespectacled, nerdy, brilliant Q, who had no concept of how to dress himself without causing bleeding eyes. Who didn’t take shit from anyone, executive branch to Double-O’s. Who really cared whether his agents came home in one piece or in a box. Q was one of the most delightful people James had ever met and he’d become absolutely fascinated with his new Quartermaster, as time had worn on. He knew now after months of sorrow and pain, that he needed something more in his life. Q was that something and James didn’t know if he’d be able to open his heart fully to the man or what form a relationship with him would take. But for the first time in a long time, James Bond was willing to try to let someone into the doorway of his heart.
A/N: My thanks to the fabulous Xphil98197 for beta’ing the story.