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What with one thing and another, James Bond had never gotten that shag.
The main problem had been the rather abrupt wakening fifteen minutes into their nap, when what sounded like three of Q’s alarms all went off at once. James had sprung to immediate wakefulness, staying incredibly still and listening for any noises above the blaring racket that might indicate an intruder.
Q shifted sleepily and flung out a clumsy arm, fingers scratching over the surface of his bedside table before he realised what he was searching for wasn’t there. Then he rolled over and nuzzled James’ bicep in an all too attractive fashion.
“Fetch my phone, would you?”
James had been about to tell the little sod to wake up properly and do it himself, but Q had stifled a yawn and tucked himself back down under the duvet, the picture of perfect contentment, and the agent had been loath to disturb him. Grudgingly he braved the Baltic temperatures of Q’s apartment and ransacked the man’s bag for the offending gadget.
“Do you want it switched off?” Bond flicked a thumb across the screen, but it didn’t light up; it wasn’t a model he recognised, and the metal body had been battered and welded together in multiple places.
“I would like to see you try,” said Q, holding out a demanding hand. “Except I wouldn’t, because it may or may not be packed with explosives in case it falls into the wrong hands.”
James handed it over hurriedly and burrowed back into bed, settling his cold feet against Q’s out of spite. The quartermaster tapped at the device lazily, and the noise ceased. Expecting that to be the end of it, James entangled his legs more closely with the younger man’s, trying to coax him away from the phone and into a kiss, but Q abruptly rolled up and away and asked, “Where are my glasses?”
“Bloody hell, you’re not getting cold feet already?” grumbled James, fetching the heavy rimmed glasses from his side of the bed and dropping them neatly on Q’s nose, for fear the man might stab himself in the eye with the legs in his still sleep addled state.
Q rolled an eye at him and focused in on his phone, thumbs tapping away for a minute. He paused to read something and then groaned, flopping back in bed.
“Sodding field agents,” he said, with some feeling, rolling over to prop his chin on Bond’s chest and peer up at him. There was a momentary blip of disappointment on his face, wide mouth twisted and eyes sad, and then he hauled himself up, pressed a kiss to James’ mouth and hopped out of bed. “When you get a chance, punch 009 in the face would you?”
“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” James sat up on his elbows to watch as Q stumbled about, hauling mismatched pieces of clothing on and then hauling off the most egregious pieces.
“There’s a stern bit of wording in my contract that discourages me from assaulting the 00-agents. Apparently my predecessors had problems with your ilk as well.”
James smirked as Q failed to do his tie three times in a row and extracted himself from bed as well. Q froze when the agent loomed into his line of sight and then pointedly looked downwards; James merely quirked an eyebrow and chuckled when his quartermaster tutted with exasperation.
“Let me help.” The tie whispered out of Q’s lax grip and James gently tossed it over the young man’s head, straightening the ends. “So what’s gone so horribly wrong you can’t fix it in your pyjamas then?”
“009 has gotten himself into an cargo plane and can’t get out. I don’t allow access to 00-agent tracking outside of the building anymore, so I have to go in. They’re already sending a car over.” Q attempted to look down at the agent’s hands, where they were looping and knotting the tie expertly, but James caught his chin with a finger and directed him to look up again. “They never mentioned that one of the perils of being quartermaster was that you wouldn’t be able to get laid as much as you used to.”
“A dreadful thing, I’m sure.” He smoothed the tie down and attempted to flatten the worst of the creases from Q’s shirt. “If you’d hang your clothes up, you wouldn’t look so permanently rumpled.”
“Perhaps that’s part of the get up,” said Q, his mouth quirking at the corners. He shrugged on a new cardigan – purple and blue this time, creased to all get out and very expensive judging by the label that James had to tuck in at the nape of the young man’s slender neck. “You can stay as long as you want. I think there’s some milk in the fridge that’s still mostly drinkable if you need it.”
“And when will you be back?” James pulled him in for another kiss, deepening the contact until he had the quartermaster pinned to a wardrobe, one long leg hooked across the back of his thigh and both arms looped around his neck. Q seemed slightly too stunned to answer so James prompted him with a lighter kiss and a purr of his codename. “Q?”
“God knows.” Q sighed and his gaze focused briefly on James’ smirk. “I really should be going.” He didn’t sound convinced that leaving was an overly good idea; frankly James already knew it was a terrible idea, they should just leave 009 to stew in his own mess, and just go back to bed.
“I could give you several good reasons why you should stay,” teased James, bending his head slightly to nibble lightly at the younger man’s jaw line. Q threw his head back, and James went to town nipping and kissing and sucking, careful to only leave the lightest of marks, red patches that would fade quickly. Just above the edge of his collar, James sank his teeth in a little harder to create a dark bruise that would raise a few eyebrows and give something for the field agent to smirk at. Q gasped, but only pushed James away when his phone began to beep loudly.
“As tempting as you’re making this,” said Q, shoving his hands against James’ shoulders and not moving the man an inch. “I now have to be going.”
The phone bleeped again, vibrating violently and tipping itself off the table it had been set on. James leant in for one last kiss, and stepped back, watching contentedly as Q attempted to straighten himself out and failed. He flitted around the room, picking up his coat, squeezing his feet into his shoes and fishing his phone out of the gap between the bed and the table.
“Try not to set the bear trap off,” said Q, shrugging on his coat. “It’s very hard to get unattached when it bites down.”
For once James Bond was able to go to work feeling as though he had actually slept well for once. Despite the fact Q obviously spent more time in MI6 than anywhere else, he’d evidently chosen the comfiest bed he could find.
Today, James’ job was to fetch 003 and a small horde of other field agents from the airport. There was trouble brewing in the Middle East again, and people were being transferred in and out at a staggering rate. James was fully expecting to end up out there himself, but for now MI6 seemed content in employing him as a glorified taxi driver.
Unfortunately this duty didn’t require a gun or a radio, or any contact with Q branch whatsoever, so when Bond finished ferrying people to bolt holes across London – and maybe getting into a minor contretemps with a small branch of a terrorist organisation, because he was James Bond and couldn’t drive across the city without some minor international incident occurring in his vicinity – he clocked off and headed straight for the tech department.
People in Q branch seemed to have two settings – surly or impossibly peppy. When James ventured across the main office, he could see the majority of MI6’s resident range of computer and explosives nerds were in their surly, we-hate-field-agents phase. Hurriedly, he checked Q’s office, but there was no sign of the quartermaster within so James went searching elsewhere.
Neither was he in the armoury, or the experimental tech department, or the cyber security office that was just outside his own. In fact, Bond was starting to worry slightly when he rounded a corner and spotted a dreadful purple and blue cardigan through the frosted glass of a break room.
Carefully opening the door, because Q branch were the sort to booby-trap doors with something mildly explosive and permanently staining, he spotted Q’s straight backed pose immediately, leaning against a low workbench, hips crooked slinkily to the side. Bond briefly considered leaping on him and suggesting firmly that they have sex right then and there, but then he heard Moneypenny’s voice and decided it would be a bad idea. She might get ideas, or possibly shoot him again, and he wasn’t entirely sure what was worse.
“Don’t you two have jobs to do?” he asked, pushing the door open fully. Moneypenny was in the middle of scoffing down a biscuit and merely rolled her eyes, while Q looked around, gave James a quick once over and an approving smile. Bond smirked back and strode in, casting a sceptical glance around the place. It was a stuffy little room, with a fridge covered in post it notes, a microwave with some suspicious looking additions and a range of teas and coffees like he’d never seen before. Something else caught his eye and he added, “What is on that dartboard?”
Q glanced over and said, “Ah. I should probably get someone to take that down.” He sipped from his mug leisurely and shrugged. “But that would damage moral, so I think I might leave it up instead.”
“It does instil a small amount of camaraderie,” said Moneypenny, finishing the last of her biscuit. “Don’t you like it?”
“Why are all the 00-agents on it?” James stepped forward and examined it more closely. “And you’ve hung the board upside down.”
“We play by unconventional rules in Q branch,” said the quartermaster. “Points aren’t the whole aim of the game.”
“Why am I the bulls eye?”
Q set down his mug and crossed to the board. “Actually, I should change that.” He plucked out the pin holding James’ photo in place and swapped it with one of 009 on the perimeter, the flex of his arm pulling his collar around to display the bright little bruise that James had left on his throat. “Until you break another of my guns.”
“I returned the gun intact last time.”
Q gave him a slow, unimpressed look. “But not the radio. Don’t play coy with me, double-oh-seven.”
“Before you boys get too involved in this sexual tension thing you’ve got going on…” Moneypenny nudged between them and set her mug down on the counter. “It’s quitting time, and some of us should be going home.”
“Only seven o’clock,” said Q, checking his watch, “You’re getting soft, Eve.”
“I’m not going anywhere, but you are.” She crossed her arms over her chest as the quartermaster grumbled and looked to James. “He’s been working for nearly three days straight now.”
“Not entirely straight,” said James, meeting Q’s gaze and grinning at him. The young man did look fairly terrible, and James was unused to being around people who looking less well-rested than he himself felt. “I thought the last time you did that someone had to take you to hospital.”
“Only to the medical bays, and I wasn’t there for very long at all.”
“Two days,” said Eve.
“Only forty four hours!” Q scowled at her. “I fixed your fax for you, and this is how you repay me?”
“Welcome to the world of espionage.” Bond shooed Eve out of the way and began to chivvy the quartermaster towards the door. “I’ll get him home before he falls asleep on something and blows it up.”
“Will you now?” She quirked a fine eyebrow at him and smiled knowingly. James merely grinned back. “Well, he needs sleep, Bond, not a shag. Control yourself.”
“You think so little of me?”
Q scoffed even as he was forcibly pushed out of the break room, and Eve shook her head and pointed. “Just go, 007. You don’t want to know the answer to that.”
More than ten hours sleep in a two day period was a novelty for James, but he took the opportunity gladly. Beside him Q already appeared to be sleeping like the dead, limbs everywhere and face buried into the pillow. If James hadn’t had stripped the young man himself then he had no doubt Q would be passed out with his clothes still on; as it had been, James had had to pry the man’s face out of the pillow and remove his forgotten glasses before they had dug lines across his pale face.
Sleep didn’t come quickly tonight, despite his gladness at getting another chance to lie in this bed so soon. His mind was ticking over slowly, body still on edge from the scuffles he’d had earlier in the day. Q’s body next to his own was a warm weight, one ankle draped over Bond’s shin and a hand resting familiarly on his bicep.
James Bond was not a man prone to regular fits of deep introspection, but he suspected he was having one now. What worried him the most was not how very, very much he wanted to fuck the brains out of his pretty, witty quartermaster, but how much he found himself liking just lying there, watching Q sleep so comfortably beside him. A quick shag was one thing, a regular fuck-buddy was another and a person that you wanted to just be beside? That was a whole other planet.
James sighed and gritted his teeth. He didn’t quite know where Q stood on his end of the issue either – was he depending on James’ love-em-and-leave-em past to hold true? It was all a big fucking mess, and he didn’t dare think about any of it too deeply in case he gave himself a migraine.
He sighed again, lugubriously, and Q rolled over onto his side, throwing the whole length of one very long leg over both of Bond’s thighs and tucking his face against the bicep he had previously been groping.
“Would you go to sleep?” grumbled the young man into the agent’s arm. “And stop sighing, you sound like you’re deflating.”
A spark of delight lit in James’ spine and he grinned into the gloom of the bedroom, sudden innocent pleasure scoring the rarely used tracks in his brain and setting off the much more recently trodden sexual attraction.
“Sleep well,” he said, turning his head to briefly nuzzle the mop of dark hair. “And tomorrow morning, I am going to fuck you senseless.”
“Mmm. I look forward to it.” And Q was asleep again just like that.
James woke before his quartermaster the next morning, and lay in silent comfort for half an hour until his bladder insisted he get up. He hadn’t wanted to wake Q, but it appeared that doing so was practically impossible; certainly manhandling limbs and rolling him over made no impression in his level of unconsciousness.
Making a quick detour to the heating press to flick on the immersion so there might be some hot water for ablutions, Bond had a quick piss and then braved the initial burst of cold water from the shower. The water pressure was fairly pitiful, but it did warm quickly and he was able to soap himself down in relative comfort.
Q had a small collection of products sitting in his shower, shampoos and conditioners and that expensive body wash that Bond had pilfered twice now. He scrubbed a handful of shampoo onto his hair and ducked his head under the stream of water, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat. He had heard scuffling, creaking noises from the bedroom, and so didn’t react when the bathroom door opened and feet padded across the floor. The brief gust of cold air as Q pulled the shower door open and then closed behind him made James flinch slightly, his skin rising in tight goose bumps as a cool, long fingered hand drifted over his shoulder blades.
“How kind; you’ve warmed the shower up for me.” Q yawned against James’ back and added, “Shift over then.”
“Brat,” grumbled James, without any fire, stepping over a bit and turning around so the younger man could get more of the spray. “Feeling better?”
“Once I’ve had my first cup of tea I’ll be perfect.” Q did look a bit more alive than he had done the previous night, although the dark circles under his eyes were still too prominent and he definitely needed a shave. James ran a curious hand over the dark shadow of stubble and grinned, but before he could make an uncomplimentary remark about Q’s age and his miraculous beard growth, the quartermaster was demanding something in an imperious voice. “The shampoo, please.”
James picked it up, but kept it out of Q’s long fingered reach. “When do you have to go back in?”
Q’s face twisted briefly into one of his frustrated scowls. “I’ve to take two days off. Eve texted to tell me that if she saw me back before then she’d replace all my Earl Grey with Tesco's own brand...”
“Good,” said James, meaning it. He was off work for a couple days as well, waiting for his clearance to be reinstated after his foray into London taxi driving. “Let me do your hair.”
“Miss your vocation as a hairdresser, did you?” said Q with a quirked eyebrow, but he tilted his chin down to allow the agent access to his hair. James set to lathering the thick mop of dark hair into a soapy mess, combing his fingers through the bird’s nest that masqueraded as the young man’s hairstyle and working out the tangles with careful fingers.
Q hummed thoughtfully, shoulders giving a satisfied shiver as James’ fingernails scratched over his scalp. His mouth was slightly slack with pleasure, brows pulled together and raised as he concentrated on the fingers combing the suds from his hair. James carded the slick strands through his fingers a few times more than strictly necessarily for the sake of the expression on Q’s face, and the dropped his hands to his sides. He was half hard already; the combination of Q’s water slick form in front of him and the look of supreme contentment on the young man’s face was a tempting sight indeed.
“Pass me the conditioner, would you?”
“Conditioner?” Bond grabbed the bottle and passed it over, watching with mild curiosity as Q slicked his hair thoroughly with the stuff; he’d watched women use it many times over, but had had no use for it himself ever. “It amazes me you spend so long on your hair only to let it sit like a bird’s nest once its dry.”
“I’m not going to attempt to tutor you in modern fashion, James,” said Q as he rinsed his hair out. The quirk of his mouth as he said James’ name sending a bolt of pleasure straight to the agent’s cock.
“A well-tailored suit and a good haircut never go out of fashion,” rumbled Bond, hooking an arm around Q’s slender waist and pulling him close. He purred deeply in satisfaction as his water slicked cock brushed up against Q’s own erection.
“Certainly not on you,” said the younger man, voice momentarily breathy. “But then you’re the field agent and I am merely the scrawny, delicate quartermaster.” His hands had drifted to James’ arms as he spoke, trailing down over his shoulder, over his biceps and back up again, eyes sparkling with mischief. The little bugger knew exactly what he was doing to James and he was fucking delighting in it.
“Maybe I like scrawny little quartermasters. I can certainly do this to them.” He tightened his grip on Q’s waist and swivelled the both of them about abruptly, slamming the young man’s back to cold tile and shoving a thigh between Q’s slim legs. Scrawny wasn’t the right word at all – slender perhaps, certainly built to exacting standards at a slightly smaller scale – but he sure as hell wasn’t delicate. One of his legs hooked around Bond’s thigh, his fingers digging into James’ shoulders as James kissed him hard, delighting in the ferocity with which Q returned the kiss.
Those wide lips met his own messily but firmly, tongue lapping out to flick across James’ teeth, as if luring him in for a bit. And Q did have lips that begged to be bitten and reddened. James obediently nipped at that pouty bottom lip, trailing his mouth down to suck lightly on the underside of the young man’s jaw, biting along to the sharp bone until he reached Q’s ear.
“Remember what I promised you last night?”
Q shuddered, one of his hands combing through James’ wet hair and a smile coming to his face. “Oh good. I was hoping you’d remember.”
James growled and nipped the lobe of his ear hard. “Perhaps we should save some hot water for later.”
“Not feeling athletic enough to fuck me up against the wall?” Q put on a devious little pout that had James’ hips grinding forward, fucking his cock against the groove of the young man’s hipbone.
“I’ll save that for when you’re extra good,” said Bond, pulling himself away from Q reluctantly. “Come on.”
They reached the bedroom still wet and in a flurry of clinging hands, mouths pressed firmly together. James had discovered that Q had deliciously sensitive nipples – he only needed to brush them with the flat of his palm and the quartermaster shivered and groaned low in his throat.
James nearly threw Q onto the bed, still delighting in the fact that the young man doesn’t mind the rough treatment. He surveyed the naked body in front of him hungrily, grinning when Q gave him a once over and sprawled back to let James enjoy what he could see
Q was every inch pale skin, contrasted by his mop of black hair, the stubble on his chin and the thin trail of black hair down from his belly button to the curls around his cock, which he started to stroke lazily as Bond considered him.
“You are a sight,” said James, finally, reaching down and giving his own cock a firm stroke, rubbing his thumb over the slit to spread the rapidly forming precome down his length, He also straightened his back and widened his stance slightly, the epitome of a strong, powerful man, and then smiled when Q licked his lips pointedly.
One long fingered hand patted the sheets next to a bony hip, and James needed no more encouragement to clamber up onto the bed and kneel over Q, keeping his body low over the quartermaster’s slim form, so his cock dragged the length of one slender leg and finally rubbed pleasantly against the taut flesh of the young man’s own erection. Q gave a muted sigh of pleasure, that James swallowed hungrily, lapping his way inside that pretty mouth and grinding his hips down to elicit more of those noises. They ended up grinding against each other desperately, James feeling like a horny teenager again, rutting against his intended with no care for anything else. His cock ached with the need for more friction, more pressure, more something that this touch couldn’t quite provide, so he dragged them over so that Q was sprawled on top of him.
There was a brief moment of limb rearrangement, where in the end Q was straddling James’ thighs, body leant forward for another kiss as their cocks slid together again. James took a moment to delight in the sight between them - Q’s slender cock, long and slim like himself, grinding against his thicker, more substantial prick – before the quartermaster reached down and took a hold of both of their cocks, his long fingers barely able to reach about the combined girth of them both. James grunted, thrusting lightly against the friction until the urge to have a good old-fashioned grope overtook him.
He had always appreciated having a few moments to get to know his lover’s body, if only so he could torment them more thoroughly later on, and Q put on a fine show. He would reflexively swallow at the lightest touch to his throat with fingers or lips, his back would arch at the mere thought of fingers on his nipples – James pinched one to watch the response, and was immediately gratified when Q’s grip on their cocks squeezed harder, a choked moan slipping from mouth to Bond’s – and he bloody smirked when James palmed both pert arse cheeks thoughtfully. Cheeky little sod.
With a growl, James rolled them again, throwing Q down onto the damp sheets and biting sharply at the young man’s throat, thrusting into Q’s grip.
“Lube,” he rumbled against the quartermaster’s collarbone, sucking on the old bruise. “I know you must have some.”
“Bedside drawer,” murmured Q, following James’ moves with wide, hungry eyes as he leant over and hunted through a collection of wires, tablets and broken combs to find a half full bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. The agent sat back slight, hooking Q’s legs up around his own hips, and drew a teasing finger down the length of the younger man’s cock, standing proud and flushed pink, slicked with precome. He continued his petting to down behind the young man’s balls, finally reaching his hole and pressing his finger tip in dry, until Q gave him a clumsy kick in the ribs.
“Less of the teasing, more the fucking,” growled Q. “In case you haven’t guessed yet, I’m no blushing virgin.”
“The half full bottle of lube and the condoms did give you away slightly.” James had slicked his fingers quickly while Q had been griping at him, and now merely slipped one in, smiling as he sank up to his knuckle easily and Q’s head fell back, mouth opening slightly.
“That’s more like it…” The quartermaster gasped and James decided that was enough snark out of that mouth for now, bowing his head and taking Q into his mouth abruptly. “Fuck!”
James kept a restraining hand on the younger man’s belly, enjoying the futile clench and flex of his stomach as he fought to thrust up into the hot wet mouth on his cock. With the other hand, the agent worked quickly to open Q’s tight hole, perhaps squeezing in the third finger a few moments before the quartermaster was entirely ready for it, but Q seemed to do nothing but enjoy the dual assault on his senses, moaning and cursing James out in a sweetly husky voice. When he began to tremble, the taste of his precome becoming thicker on Bond’s tongue, the agent withdrew all touch abruptly and sat back to consider his lover hungrily.
Q already looked wrecked: high colour painted on his cheeks, hair an utter mess, lips bitten red. He panted softly as he watched James rip a foil packet open and roll a condom onto his cock, eyes lidding over with lust as the older man slicked himself with lube and then drizzled a little extra down onto his hole.
“If you ask if I’m ready, I will kick you,” warned Q as James lined himself up.
“As you wish.” He leant his weight forward, grunting quietly as his cock slid right in. Q’s body swallowed him smoothly, until his balls bumped the curve of that pert arse and he was looming down over the quartermaster’s pretty face. The man was briefly tense, but the rigidity eased out of him swiftly and he wriggled his hips experimentally against the thick cock pinning him to the bed, back arching when he found a spot he clearly liked very much. James began to grind against that spot, with slow, hitching movements of his hips, reviving the young man’s erection to full mast again.
Q threw his head back with a long low moan as James pulled out a few inches more and pushed back in just as slowly. The young man arched his back just a little more, raising his legs to bracket James’ ribs and pull him in further.
“Mhhh!” The quartermaster shuddered deliciously, giving out another lovely moan as James thrust into him again; his toes curled with each thrust, muscles clenching and fluttering. Given a little more leverage against the damp sheets, James could tell the young man would be humping back against his thrusts, taking what he wanted from the agent.
“I’ll have you on my lap next time,” he said, rolling his hips and lowering himself onto his elbows so he could worry at Q’s flushed skin. “Bouncing on my cock, letting you fuck yourself on me whatever way you wanted.”
Q yelped as he bit down lightly on a nipple and then shuddered again, a whole body tremor. His nails scratched down James’ flanks, digging in helplessly as the older man gave him a brief pounding and then another slow, tortuous roll of hips. “I would love that-!” His voice hitched sharply as a series of thrusts sent him writhing beneath James, cursing the man out roundly. “Fu-ck, James…”
“Do you like this?” smirked James, nipping sharply at the bruise he had left on Q’s throat the night after they had first shared a bed and rolled his hips pointedly. Q clenched his teeth and arched his neck back again. “Come on, say it for me. Let’s hear you.”
“Fu-ck…” gasped Q again. “Harder, then, you bastard, fuck me harder…”
“That’s it…” James levered himself onto his hand again, looming over Q as he could feel his orgasm starting to creep up. He wanted Q to come on his cock, feel the clench and shudder of his warm, tight body around him, see that pretty face as he was lost in pleasure. “Keep going then. You run your mouth enough day to day.”
Q rolled his eyes, the gesture becoming involuntary when James gave him another pounding, just to remind him who was boss. His wide mouth fell open, little gasping noises shuddering from his throat. James sat back a bit further, hauling Q’s pert arse further up onto his lap and taking a firm grip on a bony hipbone with one hand and a making a loose fist with his other so he could wank Q off.
“Oh god…” Q’s whole back arched this time, hips jerking upwards to fuck James’ fist helplessly, then humping himself down onto James’ cock. “God, I’m going to come if you do that…”
James growled, tightening his hand around the young man’s slender cock until Q’s hips stuttered up one last time and he tossed his head on the sheets with a long groan. Come slicked James’ hand and spilled wetly onto his heaving belly. Just as James had imagined, the clench and release of Q’s muscles was intoxicating, urging him to continue to fuck into the boy as he shuddered through the last of his orgasm. When the last violent shiver left the young man’s body, James took a brief pause to regain his control, almost managing it until Q opened his eyes and smiled wickedly up at the older man.
Maintaining his wicked, mischievous stare, he coaxed James’ hand off his cock – shuddering a little at the last friction – and set it firmly on his free hip.
“I’m not senseless yet,” he purred, arching his throat to display the series of bruises just above his clavicles. “You better get working.”
James fucked him hard then, squeezing his hip bones to leave matching bruises to the ones on his long pale throat. He focused hard on the young man’s panting, moaning cries, the obscene slurp of their bodies moving together and the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears. Q’s body remained perfect against his own; even as the quartermaster’s body went limp and pliable under his hands, letting himself be pulled this way and that as James chased the starting sparks of his own orgasm, his arse was tight and fitted James’ cock perfectly.
“God… James…” Q moaned, sliding his hands down between the clenching grip that the agent had on his hips and slicking his fingers through the mess he had spurted over his own low belly. “Harder…”
“I’ll show you fucking harder.” His next few thrusts made Q almost squeak, the sound drifting close to pain, and then his orgasm leapt on him suddenly, drawing out a low, long moan from his throat and slamming his hips to Q’s pert arse with almost cruel force. His head dropped to Q’s stomach, leaning his forehead against the bony curve of the bottom of the young man’s ribcage as he spent himself into the condom, muscles twitching futilely in his legs and back.
It was a few long moments before James regained enough control of his limbs to even think about moving. His low back complained briefly when he straightened up to look at Q, meeting the young man’s sloppy, fucked out smile with one of his own that felt no more sensible. He pulled out carefully, the dull ache of well worked muscle in his thighs and ass a pleasant sensation, and whipped off the condom, knotting it expertly and throwing it into the bin on the other side of the room. Normally he would have gotten up for something to clean the pair of them up with, so they didn’t soil the bed too much, but the sheets Q was still sprawled on were already damp with water and slick in places with lube; there wasn’t much point in cleaning up to sleep there.
Instead he crawled up the bed, collapsed down on his back and tossed an arm out invitingly. Q looked up at him, and took a few moments to haul himself into the right position to cushion his head against James’ shoulder. He was gratifyingly silent, still smiling in that deeply satisfied fashion, his face still flushed and his hair a complete and utter mess.
“Good enough?” said James, carding his fingers through the dark locks and wringing out a few droplets of water. “Are you senseless yet?”
Q waved a hand expansively, opened his mouth and then appeared to simply give up. His hand flopped down across Bond’s stomach, rising and falling with his still accelerated breaths, and his eyes shuttered closed.
“Speak now, or forever hold your peace, quartermaster…” James warned, but Q merely snorted, a ghost of warm breath against James’ chest. “I’m taking this as a yes, then.”