Chapter Text
Bringing James home was probably one of the best feelings Q had even had the privilege of enjoying. Finally, finally, he could tuck James into their own bed and take care of him on his own terms. It also signified the fact that James was well enough to leave the hospital, and that was at least some of the weight off of Q’s chest.
He gently guided James into the bedroom, helping him sit on the edge of the bed, and tenderly peeled his shoes and coat off. “What can I get you?”
James hissed as he was rearranged on the bed. Even though it had been almost a month, his ribs still constantly protested and hissed. He was on an intense course of painkillers as a result, and they made him feel bloated and gross.
“Just some tea,” he said softly, trying to find the most comfortable position on the bed.
Q frowned. “How are you feeling?” He ran a hand soothingly down James’ arm, and sighed. “I could bring you ice, as well, or another pillow, if you’d like.”
“The drugs are making me feel miserable,” James admitted. “They kill my appetite and leave me horribly bloated. Better than not being able to move because of pain, I suppose, but I’m taking forever to heal.”
Q felt terrible that he couldn’t come up with some amazing way to heal James as quickly as possible, to take away all his pain, and to keep him safe forever. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, rubbing James’ knee gently.
“Something soothing for my stomach,” James replied. “And then you get your arse in bed so I can snuggle with you.”
At that, Q actually laughed, for the first time in a month. He nudged his glasses back up his nose. “Yes, sir, Commander Bond.” He stood and gave James a quick peck on the lips, then hurried to the kitchen to make chamomile tea and honey toast.
James wasn’t going to admit it, but being safe in his own bed was the most rewarding thing that had happened to him in a very long time. Ever since Q had moved in with him, his house felt more and more like a home rather than just a place to sleep when he couldn’t keep his head up.
Q was back several minutes later with the tea and toast. “Here we are, sir, is this to your satisfaction?” He said with a smirk, offering the mug to James and sitting down on the bed next to him.
“At least you didn’t burn anything this time,” James teased, sipping the tea. it was just what he needed and he sighed in contentment.
“It’s good to be home.”
Blushing, Q shrugged. “I can always manage tea, that isn’t difficult. It’s just your toaster actually has a personality. And it doesn’t like me.” He kept a perfectly straight face, sipping his own tea and looking at James over the edge of the mug.
“It’s good to have you home,” he replied, snuggling against James’ side. “I’ve missed you so much.”
James couldn’t help but shudder at what Q must have gone through. He knew what Q had gone through, hated that the same experience that had so rattled him had happened in reverse.
Q felt the shudder, and pulled James closer, ever mindful of his sore ribs. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?” He stroked James’ hair and kissed his temple, where there was starting to be more gray hair than blonde.
“I hate that I did this to you.” It’s the same old parroted guilt. Percy deserved to love someone who wouldn’t get hurt, or get him hurt. But instead of dwelling on it, he pulled Q down for a slow kiss.
Q was about to protest when James’ lips found his and he was utterly lost. James had the rare ability to shut Q up, and had from the very start. Unabashedly, Q moaned into the kiss, parting his lips and trying to lure James’ tongue into his mouth. It had been far too long.
James sunk into the kiss, tracing the now faded scars that littered Q’s left side. it was far easier to look at them now then they had been the first night Q had returned home after receiving them. They were still wonderfully sensitive, and James let his fingers stroke them as they kissed.
Tiny whimpers slipped through their kiss as James traced over the scars that criss-crossed Q’s abdomen and arms, and the few on his neck and jaw. They caused shivers down his spine, and for him to shift on the bed so he was pressed up against James’ thigh, one hand braced on the wall behind James’ shoulder, the other gently cupping his neck.
“God,” James breathed, his breath puffing over the skin on Q’s neck and shoulder. “After all this you are still such a slight little thing. I could feed you 5 square meals a day and you’d still be little.” It was one of the things that James found so alluring about Q. As slight as he was, there was very little about him that was feminine (besides those deadly doe eyes) and it made him perfect.
Q chuckled. “I doubt that very much,” he murmured against James’ jaw. “You’ve never had complaints about my size before.”
“What do you want?” James asked breathlessly. “I want this to be for you.”
“It’s hardly a complaint,” James retorted. “You are utterly beautiful.” A blush spread across Q’s face, and he pressed as many kisses as he could to James’ neck. “And you, sir, are the textbook example of ridiculously attractive. Michelangelo could not have made a more splendid man if he had been given access to laser carving technology and the wonderful world of photoshop.”
He lifted his head to look at James. “Why...why about me?”
“After the month you just had, you deserve to be spoiled. Whatever you desire. Your wish is my command.”
Q’s brow furrowed. “But you just spent the month in the hospital. I should be taking care of you, James, not the other way around.”
“And if I want to take care of you?” James asked softly, stroking Q’s cheek. “What then?”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Q knew it was completely ridiculous how he melted like putty when it came to James. He would do anything he asked of him, and if it involved James wanting to have sex with him...if he could, he would have purred. “Okay,” he moaned instead, “You’re quite persuasive.”
“So,” James said with a grin, rolling onto his good side. “What will it be?”
Q deliberated for a moment, lips back against James’ neck. He finally whispered in James’ ear, “I want to fuck you. If...if you’re up for that.”
James gave a pleased little shiver, spreading himself open in invitation.
“I’m all yours,” he murmured.
A wry smile spread across Q’s face, and he situated himself so he was between James’ legs. Tenderly, he leaned down to kiss James on the lips, hands gently resting on James’ pectorals. As he broke the kiss, he reached down to shimmy James’ t-shirt up. “Lets get you out of all these pesky clothes, mm?”
James sat up despite his protesting ribs, shedding his shirt as he did so. There were still faint bruises and fresh scars, but unlike Q, his skin was marred by countless scars. But Q’s gentle teasing fingers made him feel cherished and beautiful, gasps and sighs falling from his mouth.
Q’s hands explored James’ chest with their trademark dexterity. It was familiar territory, but it didn’t make it any less exciting and enjoyable. He traced the outlines of old scars, pressed his lips to the old bullet wound, playfully tweaked James nipple, and nipped at his shoulder. He loved that every mark and line on James was some sort of momento, a story waiting to be told, and Q couldn’t wait to hear how it ended.
James sighed, his body relaxing under Q’s skilled hands and mouth. He wasn’t the most vocal of lovers, more of the sighing type, but as with everything, Q was able to bring out everything he hid. It was the simple tweak of his nipple that made James hiss and moan. When it came down to it, 007 was not overly hard to please.
“You know,” Q murmured between kisses, as his lips worked their way down James’ chest, “I could probably match each of these scars to different mission files I have on you. It might be an interesting challenge. Or...” he paused to suck on one scar that was particularly sensitive, “Or I could play connect the dots with them...see what kind of patterns I could make.” He smirked against James’ skin. “Now there’s an idea. Drawing on you. Tracing your muscles with ink, outlining your bones in paint...mmm.”
James smiled against the bones of Q’s shoulder.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” James said fondly. “And the sad thing is, I’d let you.” He moaned when Q got his mouth around the long scar across his ribs, which made an already sensitive part of his body even more so. It was easy to drift under Q’s skilled hands, and James did so.
Q smiled up at him, from where he sat, mouth now near the waistband of James’ pants. “I think, at some point in the near future, I could accurately place every one of your scars on your body onto a drawing. I want to be able to do that, actually. It’s a goal. You’ll have to help me study, of course. And besides,” he stooped to lick along James’ hip bone, “it’s important for a Quartermaster to be able to identify his double-oh should something go wrong. Though, admittedly, things have definitely gone as wrong as they could go before.” He sighed and went back to worrying James’ hip with tongue and teeth.
James smiled indulgently down at him before lightly smacking the top of Q’s head as a reminder that he did not have an infinite amount of patience for Q’s...ramblings.
Q chuckled, his breath hot against James’ skin. He looked up. “These,” he said, tugging at the waistband of James’ pants, “are getting in my way. Care to assist?”
James just lifted his hips off the bed, issuing a silent challenge. You wanted this, he said silently. So take.
Q grinned, very nearly replying verbally before deciding better of it. He slowly undid the button, letting his hands and fingers slide and trail across the front of James’ trousers before slowly pulling them off. “So very lazy, 007,” he commented.
“This is about you,” James said with a rasied eyebrow. “I’m just along for the ride. And you wouldn’t want to make me do too much work with these ribs, now would you?”
Q put on a mock-serious expression. “Of course not, sir, got to make sure you don’t injure yourself again.”
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of James’ boxers, and smiled at him coyly.
“Now, shall I, or shan’t I?”
“Do it,” James hissed, tugging at Q’s hair, his patience spent.
Q shivered, mouth hanging slack for a moment, but then snapping shut so Q could bite his lip and give James a wry look. “Impatient old bugger,” he said, yanking James’ pants down and off.
“I swear to God,” James growled. “If you don’t shut up and get on with it, I will pull you back up here and have my way with you, bum ribs be damned.” He is already achingly hard, and he can’t put up with this for too much longer or Q won’t get his fun.
Q smiled, eyes getting dark. “Very well, no need to shout,” he muttered. “I’m going to need your help, though,” he said and leaned up to push one of his fingers into James’ mouth.
James sucked greedily.on Q’s fingers, making sure they were sloppy with his spit. He knew what Q was going to use them for and the thought made him shudder with anticipation.
Q sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut as James sucked and licked at his fingers. Slowly, he pulled them out, and circled one around James’ entrance, watching him closely.
James can’t help it. At Q’s feather light touch, his eyes drift close and his mouth parts around a sigh. He is more than ready, as his leaking cock can attest, but he likes that Q is being gentle and slow.
Q gently pushes into James, working him tenderly, then slowly adding a second finger. He spreads him methodically, every so often crooking his fingers. “You’re so relaxed like this, it’s incredible. I love seeing you go all boneless and untroubled, like you haven’t a care in the world. It’s satisfying.”
James could do nothing more than shudder and moan under Q’s knowing touches. Those long slender fingers could touch him the way no one else seemed to, and James had and could come just from those clever fingers alone.
Smiling, Q leaned down to kiss James. “This is about me,” he murmured against his lips, “but I won’t be happy unless I know I’m doing what makes you happy. Tell me what you’d like.”
Q had stopped. James made a sound of protest, somewhere between angry and desperate.
“Does it look like I don’t like this?” he hissed, trying to sound sharp, but just sounding needy. “Your original plan suited me just fine.”
Q smirked a little. “Well, I could just finger you until you come, you’ve seemed to enjoy that before. Or would you actually like me to fuck you?”
James whimpers. He couldn’t think about that right now. Instead he just wriggled, trying to get Q to start moving again.
A shiver ran through Q. “Never mind, I am not certain I have the self-control to keep from fucking you.” He pulled his fingers out, and, wiping them on the bed sheets, began rooting around in the bedside table drawer for a condom. Finally finding one, he tore it open and rolled it on, smearing some more lube on himself. “Ready?” He murmured.
“Take it off,” James whispered. “I’m clean, and unless you have something to tell me, you are too, as of your last testing.” Q wasn’t the only one with a basic understanding of hacking. “Wanna feel you.”
Q paused for a moment, then nodded, rolling the condom off, and tossing it into the garbage. “Okay. Yes.” He reapplied lube, and then gently repositioned James’ hips so he could push in more easily.
It was even better than James had thought it would be. It was just that much more hot and immediate, and he moaned, his whole body contracted. He wasn’t going to last, between the torment of Q’s fingers and the steady heat inside of him.
Q began to thrust, deep and slow, biting his lip as he did so. His hands were gripping James’ hips tightly, at the exact place where leg met torso, and they dug into the soft, warm flesh. There was so much more to feel like this, it was hotter and rougher and so good that Q couldn’t stop himself from babbling. “Shit, James, oh god, that feels so good, so tight and incredible, fuck....fuck!” His voice broke, and he started thrusting harder.
“‘S good for me too,” James slurred quietly. Q meets his eyes, surprised that James is talking back to him. He usually doesn’t. But James pulled him down for a kiss, letting Q swallow a moan before pulling away.
“Percy...!” James cried as he came. He doesn’t even notice that he is using Q’s real name he was so far gone.
Q noticed, though. He noticed every bit, how James was talking, how they had never been so in synch, how James used his real name, something he rarely ever did, in bed or out. And all of those were enough to push Q to the edge. He panted, but held back. “Can...should I come in you?” He gasped.
James clamped down in reply, nails dragging across Q’s back as he rode out the last of his orgasm.
And then James came, so hard and so beautiful that Q’s rhythm stuttered and he wanted nothing more than to come inside of him, regardless of what James wanted. He thrust a few more times, then came as well, gasping and moaning through his orgasm.
The rush of wet warmth inside of him just seemed to drag out James’ orgasm, and he clung to Q as if he were the only anchor left in his life. There was the faintest of protests from his ribs, but he felt far too good to give it more than a passing thought. Q was still shuddering and gasping in his arms, and James shifted so he could cradle him through the last of his orgasm.
Q slumped down against James, panting and sweaty as he slowly came back to himself. Gingerly, he pulled out of James, trying not to make too much of a mess, but they were clearly going to have to wash the sheets today. He let those mundane, random thoughts flit around the back of his head as he lay against James, listening to his heart and lungs working.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Perce.” This time it was deliberate, and the tender smile that lit up Q’s face made James’ heart do a funny little patter. They were messy and sweaty, but James couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing or anywhere he would rather be.