Ok, I didn't know I would do a James Bond fan fiction, but I have been obsessed with James Bond since before I can remember. I have seen every movie, read every book, I can name the titles in order and reverse order. So, why the hell not write an angsty fan fiction? There's definitely not enough of it.

Bond and Rogers were happy, or so it seemed. They were both double-oh's, they both loved each other very much, and everyone seemed to be waiting for a proposal. Bond let them hope, it wasn't going to happen. Because what everyone forgets is Craig Rogers is a very dangerous man. But he makes sure never to let Bond forget that.

Craig was drunk again, Bond could hear it as the front door to their Chelsea flat burst open. He stayed in the bedroom, not daring to move or make a sound, praying he would relax on the sofa and fall asleep. But he heard the footsteps come to the door and it flung open to reveal the staggering, six foot five tall brunette man.

He came behind James, who had his back to the door, towering over him, and softly stroked his hair. James shivered, hating the heaviness of his drunken hands, and the strong smell of alcohol from his mouth. His hand ran down Bonds body, and rested on Bonds groin. He tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he took a tight hold of his member.

"No, not tonight." Bond murmured.

"Why not?" He said, bitterly.

"Not...not up for it." He said, pulling Craig's hand away and going to sit down, but He grabbed Bonds arm.

"Since when are you 'not up for it?' Or have you had some already tonight, you little whore?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"Then answer me, slut!"

"Get off of me, you're drunk!" He yelled, instantly regretting it. Rage built up in Craig's normally warm, brown eyes, and he grabbed hold of Bond, fumbling hands ripping his jumper and shirt off. Bond struggled against Craig's hands, but even when drunk he had amazing strength

And Bond could never hurt him.

The hands went down to his jeans, dragging them down with the boxers. Bond fought all he could, trying to tear the hands away, to push the man away. This wasn't the first time this had happened. It was way too often that it did, but there was absolutely nothing he could do. If he ever brought up or mentioned any assault, he would pay for it and leaving him...well, he didn't want to know.

He was tossed onto the bed face up, and Craig was very quickly on top of him, in his hand he has one if Bonds black, silk ties which he tied round Bonds head and in his mouth.

"Now my dear, it is only right you are punished for being the dirty slut you are. So it may hurt, and we wouldn't want people to have to hear you." He whispered, and lifted Bonds legs up painfully high before thrusting inside of him. His scream was muffled by the tie, and he fought desperately to free himself, but his arms were pinned down. He shut his eyes, trying to escape into his mind, and to stop the tears of pain leaking from his eyes.

"So, slut, who was it? Ben?"

SLAP

"Owen?"

SLAP

"Or was it that fucking quartermaster you spend so much time with?"

This was all a cruel joke. The gag in his mouth was so tight he couldn't reply even if he wanted to. And he couldn't cheat. If he so much as smiled at anyone then Craig was sure to hear about it. All he could do was wait it out, like every time.

It wasn't long before Craig's head flew back and he felt himself be filled up. He pulled out, earning a moan from Bond and left the room, taking Bonds clothes with him. Bond lay there, blood and semen pouring from his rear and pain coursing throughout his body. He came back soon with their emergency medical kit, turned him over, and with shaky hands managed to stitch his bleeding wounds with no anaesthetic. When he was done he leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you, Craig."

He heard Craig chuckle, and he kissed Bonds ear affectionately, holding him close as he fell asleep. Bond stayed awake most of the night. He had once loved Craig, a lot. But things had changed, he had done something, he had somehow messed up, and now all the love they once had was gone. And all because somewhere along the line, he had fucked it all up, and he didn't even know how.

When he woke the next morning, he was alone. He took a shaky breath, swung his feet over and stood up quickly, hoping to avoid too much rectal pain. After very carefully putting on a fresh set of boxers, he went to their wardrobe and got a Savile Row suit. As he buttoned up the trousers, he felt two warm hands on his stomach. He froze as soft lips kissed his neck and ear.

"Do you have to go to work now?" He whispered.

"Yes, why arent you?"

"Going later, double-ohs dont have to show up till twelve. Why are you going so early?"

"M has a job for me, duty calls."

Craig made a disaprooving sound and slid his hand down James' trousers and in his boxers. He wrapped a hand gently around his genetalia and James' breath faltered

"Don't think I don't know what you get up to on your missions. If I hear one word that I don't want to hear," he squeezed, and Bond gave a strangled moan, and put one hand on the wardrobe to steady himself. Craig giggled and twisted, causing a silent scream from Bond as his face contorted in agony. He removed his hand and strode towards the living room. He rested his head against the wardrobe, breathing deeply. It reminded him a lot of the torture he had suffered at the hands of Le Chiffre, so long ago in Montenegro. Eccept this seemed ten times worse. This was from someone he had once trusted with his life. He put on the rest of his suit, walking unsteadily towards his car. M had nothing prepared, but it felt good to be there. MI6 was his sanctuary, the only place he could trully feel safe.

Let me know what you think, hopefully chapter two wont take too long.

~Bow-Tie Queen