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Q came to expect seeing Bond lurking about the Q-Branch. Other agents avoided the “den of nerds” almost as religiously as they tried to avoid Medical, but not Bond. At least not in the recent months. At first, he was weirded out, Bond could be kind of creepy, perching on one of the desks and observing everything with an empty stare of a serial killer (not exactly wrong impression, wasn’t it?). Then, he was irritated because the minions were creeped out and started making silly mistakes, just because Bond was looking at their hands. Finally, after a month, Q decided that Bond was just bored because of M’s decision to ban him from missions for some time, deciding that the last ruined Aston was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was either that, or he was after one of the technicians’ (dubious) virtue. It wasn’t that Q thought Polly was a slut (even if she was then good for her, power to the people and the whole shebang…), it was just that he had a sad impression that everyone in Q-Branch was getting laid on a regular basis while he was probably a reborn virgin.
Considering that, it shouldn’t really surprise Q to find Bond in the stairwell where he sneaked out to have a mildly illegal cigarette (M said he shouldn’t cause fire hazards like that, but shouldn’t is not mustn’t, so he was probably clear to have a much needed smoke there). Still, finding 007 in his place of seclusion meant he wasn’t really after Polly, as there was no way she’d come here. The way Bond silently offered him a lighter, like he was a swooning heroine of some film noir, shielding it from the wind and oh-so-gently grazing Q’s cheek made the Quartermaster think. He was half-sure he was right, and half-sure it was his desperate wishful thinking. His lust for Bond had turned into desire over time and it was dangerously moving towards craving.
“Hard day, isn’t it?”, Bond murmured, lighting his own cigarette. Q looked at him, surprised that he finally said something. Of course, his shocked face made Bond smirk. Well, maybe not smirk, but smile. Rather warmly, at that. The end was nigh if Bond smiled warmly.
“Yes, I really want to go to bed right now. And preferably stay there for at least a week”, Q sighed. There had been too many missions at once, coordinating it all was hell. Luckily, they all went according to plan, but now he had nightmarish amounts of paperwork to do. Still, it could be worse. At least he had the next day free.
“Yeah, bed is the only thing that makes sense on days like this. Don’t tell anyone, but I always loved to stay in bed, when it rains like today, wrap in the sheets and share body warmth”. Q almost swallowed his tongue, it didn’t feel like Bond was flirting as usual. It seemed almost like he was asking something. Like the air was charged not only with rain.
“Oh, nobody would believe me that a double-oh likes to cuddle on rainy days”, Q tried to lighten the mood, as the sudden tension made him feel like he was about to do something stupid, like kiss Bond’s sensual mouth.
“The word «cuddle» strips it from all sensuality”, Bond looked at him, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “Think about it, the smell of fresh rain, the quiet patter of drops on the windowsill, the shared warmth… bare skin on bare skin, body to body, sheltered from the outside world…”. Q was afraid he swallowed audibly. Bond’s words definitely sent his imagination running.
“When you put it like that… maybe cuddling wasn’t the right word, maybe clinging to each other would be better…”, Q felt his cheeks burning. “I gotta go, the reports are waiting. Thank you for the lighter, Bo…James”.
“Pleasure’s all mine, believe me”, Bond smiled once more and moved towards the door.
***
Even a few hours after the encounter, Q still felt shaken. It wasn’t Bond’s usual flirting, it was something much more intimate. The way he looked at Q smiling was something so unusual for the notorious heartbreaker that the Quartermaster wasn’t sure how to proceed. Luckily for him, he didn’t have much time to think, filling the paperwork instead. When he was finally done with the reports he noticed that apart from the night shift workers there was someone else, lurking by the door. Bond, obviously.
“It’s raining. I’ll drive you home”, Bond said, not a hint of doubt in his voice, just as he opened the door for Q. “You had a hard day, it’s pouring, there’s no point in taking the Tube”. Q didn’t oppose. Firstly, he was dead tired and going out in the pouring rain was the last thing he wanted. Secondly, he had a fuzzy warm feeling of being cared for. And not by just anyone, but by the person he wanted most to want him.
Inside the Aston, it smelled a bit like Bond, of leather, tobacco and something spicy. Q didn’t know whether it was his natural scent or some eccentric perfume by Tom Ford, but he loved it none the less. It smelled masculine and sexy; strong but warm.
“There’s no point in telling you my address, is there?”, Q stole a glance at the agent just in time to see a tiny smile grace his face.
“Not really, no. Hope you don’t mind. I find you endlessly interesting, so I’ve done a little research”, Bond was openly smiling now, tapping on the steering wheel. Q would never admit but his cheeks turned dark red at this.
Sooner than Q would like, the car stopped in front of his building. Bond looked at him and licked his (sexysensualperfect, his mind supplied) lips. It was now or never, if he didn’t have the guts to ask Bond now, when he seemed so into Q, then there would be no second chance.
“Would you like to come up for a drink? It was a hard day, as you said, and I don’t really want to drink alone”, before he even finished, Bond started the car to find a place in the parking lot. When Q looked up, Bond’s smile took his breath away. There was genuine happiness in there, something he didn’t think anyone in MI6 saw in Bond’s eyes since the legendary Vesper mess.
“I would love to have all the drinks with you, Q”.
***
The minute Q locked the door to the flat behind them, Bond caught his hand, entwining their fingers. His big palm almost enveloped the Quartermaster’s smaller one, the thumb stroking the back of his palm. Bond was close enough that Q could smell him. It was making him dizzy, his skin tingling at every point their skin touched.
“I don’t think I’m wrong…but if I misread the situation, feel free to punch me. I promise I’d never hit you back, Q”, Bond whispered and leaned in slowly, giving him time to move, to push him away… Only Q didn’t want to lean back, he wanted Bond’s lips on his, he wanted Bond’s hands on his body, he wanted everything Bond described in the dreary stairwell. Soon he had Bond’s warm palm on his jaw, gently pressing to kiss him deeper. The sensations were overwhelming. Q couldn’t even say what was so good about that kiss, apart maybe from everything. Bond tasted faintly of coffee and his lips were surprisingly soft. Q always thought they looked almost vulgar, as if they were made for sucking prick – the fuller, lower lip just begged to be traced with it, hard and wet. Still, the kisses were not vulgar in the least, they weren’t innocent, but sweet and tender none the less.
Soon, Q had his arms wrapped around Bond’s neck, like it was the only thing keeping him upright while he completely melted into the kiss. Bond’s own hands were tracing patterns on Q’s back, until finally one of them found its way under Q’s cardigan. It made him shiver to feel how big and hot it felt, even through his shirt. He couldn’t concentrate on the feeling though, as Bond’s other hand wandered down to his arse and gently but firmly pressed their hips together, grinding his hard prick on Q’s equally interested one.
“Funny how I thought the same thing in the morning…”, Q whispered against Bond’s lips, managing to break the kiss for a minute. He teased the vulgar lower lips with his tongue and continued, “But now I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. C’mon, let’s move this party to the bedroom”.
In the bedroom, to Q’s surprise, nothing changed. Bond was still strangely tender, as he stripped Q almost lovingly, stroking his sides and kissing his collarbones. Q never felt more cherished, which was somewhat sad to think about, as this was probably going to be only a magnificent one-night stand. He expected Bond to be a dominating alpha male in bed, taking whatever he wants and maybe being a tiny bit selfish. He presumed the agent would be rough with a male partner. Maybe not exactly aggressive, but definitely not affectionate like that, biting rather than nuzzling Q’s neck, holding him down instead of cradling him in his arms like someone precious.
Somehow, when they were both finally gloriously naked, Q ended up straddling Bond, who was sitting up, leaning on the headboard. Their chests were touching and they were sharing more kisses that were making Q dizzy again. When one of Bond’s hands stroked his back, from the nape of his neck right to the top of his cleft he couldn’t help a quiet moan of appreciation, which Bond rightfully recognized as a consent to move his fingers lower and start teasing the rim of Q’s hole. Q gasped, clinging to Bond’s arms like a lifeline. It was much too long since he last had someone touch him like that. Pretty soon, he was a mush, spread on the agent’s chest, moaning into his neck and chasing the clever fingers with his hips. Their pricks were cradled together between their bellies, rubbing against each other, the friction turning into a wet slide, as Q oozed precome every time Bond pressed on his prostate.
“Enough, please… enough or I’ll come like that”, to emphasize his point, Q simultaneously clenched down on Bond’s fingers and bit his lower lip. He couldn’t help himself, he fantasized about it for so long that having it within his reach made it impossible not to lick it, kiss it, bite it. “I’m clean, I know you’re clean too, put it in me… I want you inside, I want your spunk inside me when you leave…”
“God, your filthy mouth”, Bond groaned, kissing him one last time and tenderly petted the delicate skin under his eye. “Where do you keep the lube Q?”
Q felt his cheeks burning dark red again. “Uhm, I haven’t used it in quite a while…” Q felt he must have looked like a bloody beetroot by now. He wasn’t even sure if he had some left after the last time he had a proper fuck which must have been in previous century. “I’ll go look for it” he said, sliding off Bond and trotting towards his closet. Desperately, he looked for the lube he was sure had been somewhere over there, thinking that now he was so hot for Bond he’d let him put his prick inside him with just saliva to ease the way.
“Ah, there, I have it” he said turning towards Bond who was watching him with an amused, yet quite fond expression as Q placed himself back on his agent’s lap.
“Haven't had anyone in there recently?” Bond asked quietly, his voice full of feelings, petting his arse and pulling him closer to himself “I’ll make sure to be delicate”.
Q was bloody crimson.
Bond lubed up his prick, leaving his fingers slick and putting them back inside Q and stroking his inner walls gently. “James, honestly just put it in already”. Bond dutifully replaced his fingers with the head of his prick.
“C’mon, ride me then”, the agent petted his lover's flanks, kissing the hollow of his throat and licking the drops of perspiration down to his collar bone.
“Oh goodness, you’re so big”, Q sighed with pleasure, feeling Bond’s huge prick getting deeper inside him and at the same time feeling Bond’s huge hands stroke his sides gently, petting him like a cat, like he was the most delicate and important thing in the world.
Q didn’t know how long they were fucking like that, the rhythm of their hips and the hands on his flanks was strangely hypnotizing. He almost lost his balance when Bond kissed his jaw, whispered “Hold on to me” and somehow turned them around, never once slipping from Q’s hole. Riding Bond was painfully good, but lying on his back, with the agent braced above him was even better. It felt even more intimate, having his legs wrapped around Bond’s hips, carding his short blond strands and gazing into his eyes. Later, he’d feel silly about it, but the thing that tipped him into his orgasm, was another kiss, just as sweet as the ones before.
Bond’s prick moved relentlessly inside him for a few more thrusts, until it got too intense and Q weakly mewled something that seemingly resembled protest. He felt like protesting more when Bond slipped out of him, leaving him loose and empty. He didn’t have enough time to contemplate that, as soon Bond was kissing him again, the agent’s hand furiously striping his prick. Finally, Bond groaned into his mouth and Q felt warm wetness on his spent cock, which tried to twitch at the feeling.
Somehow, they ended up spooning, with Bond rubbing their mixed come on Q’s belly. The agent was kissing and licking the skin at the nape of his lover’s neck. Q allowed his hands to wander back to Bond’s arse, stroking the perfect cheek, which had the additional advantage of pressing them even closer together.
“I’m risking a guess that I can stay the night”, Bond whispered, nosing his Quartermaster’s ear.
“You’re such a smart agent, and still you ask such silly questions”, Q smiled and patted Bond’s arse. “I’d be awfully offended if you left now. Though, do feel allowed to get us a blanket”.
The night seemed to be as dreary and rainy as the day, but wrapped up in a blanket and his lover’s arms Q felt perfectly content. He allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the patter of the rain and Bond’s steady breathing.