Will I need a coat? I don't even know where I'm going.
Q is standing in front of his suitcase, which is pathetically half-packed. So far he's only managed to throw in a few pairs of underwear, socks, two undershirts, his four favourite cardigans, and two pairs of trousers. He's been told to pack lightly, but exactly how light is "lightly" anyway?
This is why he doesn't do missions.
Oh yeah, and also because of the flying part.
Yesterday afternoon, Q received a message directly from M himself informing him that he'd be accompanying Bond on a mission to an undisclosed location for a "brief" amount of time for "certain reasons". It wasn't optional. The vagueness was almost enough to make Q quit on the spot.
Almost.
Deep down, despite his loathing for spontaneity, his need for schedule and order, and his deathly fear of flying, this trip excited Q. He'd be spending time in a foreign country with 007 in order to complete a mission. Nobody else would be going. Q felt a surge of pride knowing that M trusted him enough to accompany Bond alone.
He'd been reassured that he would not have to leave the hotel room; that Bond would take care of everything and Q just had to be the voice in his ear and his source of information. Sounded easy enough.
Taking my Scrabble mug would be ridiculous… wouldn't it?
This was going to take a lot longer than expected.
Three hours later, Q is rigidly sitting in his first-class seat, clutching his bag to his chest. They've been airborne almost an hour now, and it's not getting any easier. He tries to keep the panic from rising in his throat by imagining a chess game in his head. His opponent is Bond. He defeats the agent in eleven moves. Not his best game, but pretty decent considering he's shaking and sweating from anxiety.
When Q checked into the airport, he discovered the undisclosed location to which he was travelling: Brazil. Well, at least somewhere warm, then.
Bond is already there, awaiting Q's arrival at the hotel. It's appalling that they've sent Q on a regular passenger plane and not in a private jet. He will certainly have to complain about this.
They can't even make a proper cup of tea on this death trap.
The hotel is dodgy, to say in the least. Situated in the heart of Rio, it definitely wouldn't be considered five stars back in England. The room's walls are cracked and barren, and right in the centre of the room is the double bed.
Really?
One bed. Not even a queen. This is insane. I'm not paid enough for this.
Q tosses his suitcase on the floor next to the small coffee table under the window. He unpacks his computer from his carry-on and is searching for an outlet when he hears the bathroom door open.
Bond walks into the room with a towel clinging to his hips, water droplets rolling down his muscular chest. Q can't help but stare. How does he look like that?
"Oh good, you're here. Have a nice flight, did you?"
Q wants to slap the smirk off his face, the cheeky bastard.
"It was simply lovely. This room, on the other hand…" Q trails off and looks towards the bed.
"Yeah, that. Not really sure what happened. Guess we'll have to deal with it."
"It appears so." Q plugs in his computer and settles down in front of it.
Bond grabs his clothes and changes in the bathroom. A few minutes later, he announces that he's heading out for the first part of the mission. He puts in his earpiece and leaves without another word.
Q sighs and puts in his earpiece as well.
Bond only kills two men that night.
Q is watching a movie in Portuguese on the small television when Bond returns at 2am.
"So… did it go well?"
"Yeah," Bond grunts.
Q figures that would be all he'd get out of the agent about the mission.
Bond grabs his bottle of Scotch from the table and pours a glass. "You want one? Wait, are you even old enough to drink?"
"Ha ha, never heard that one before." Q reaches out for his glass.
An hour and a half later, the bottle's empty and the two men are propped up on the bed watching a horribly acted soap opera on the telly.
"You know, I don't think it's that easy to pick up women," Q says in reference to the soap's brawny male character.
"It is if you're me," Bond quips.
Q giggles like a girl. This is why he doesn't drink much. He usually ends up embarrassing himself exactly like this. He wonders if Bond is as tipsy as he is.
"Well I can understand that."
Bond's eyebrow raises slightly, but he doesn't look away from the screen.
Q blushes. He notices how close they've gotten since they started watching the soap. Bond's left leg is bent slightly, his knee almost touching Q's leg. Q can feel the heat between them and he starts to imagine what it would feel like to put his hand on Bond's thigh…
He pulls himself out of his fantasy, embarrassed, and takes off his glasses, setting them down on the bedside table to his left.
"Well I'm knackered, so… goodnight." Q slides down the bed and gets comfortable.
Bond gets up to turn off the telly and the lights and climbs back into bed.
"Don't let the bed bugs bite. Seriously. There are probably bed bugs."
Q groans. "Thanks for that. If I can't fall asleep now, I'm blaming you."
"Fair enough. Night." Bond rolls over.
Q does fall asleep. Eventually.
Q wakes up to sunlight streaming in through the window directly on his face. He slowly opens his eyes.
Bond is flat on his back with his arms outstretched across the bed.
Q is lying beside him.
Bond's left arm is behind Q's neck.
Q has no idea how he ended up like this. Before he can figure out what to do, Bond's eyes open as well.
He scrunches his brow for a brief second, then quickly removes his arm from behind Q and sits up.
"Uhh…" Q tries to think of what to say.
"It's fine, erm… I'm going to go shower." Bond gets up and goes into the bathroom.
Q can still feel his neck tingling from where Bond's warm arm was touching him.
The day passes by quickly. Bond had a lead and Q was guiding him through Rio in pursuit of a possible suspect, but they lost him. It was a disappointing day.
Bond returns to the room around dinner time. He showers and changes into a tight-fitting white shirt and black trousers that show off his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and sculpted arse.
"Where are you off to, then?"
Bond looks up at Q. "Meeting an old friend who might have information. I've ordered room service for you, should be arriving soon."
"I guess that means I won't be joining you."
"You'd be right in that assumption. Don't worry, dear, I won't be too late." Bond grins at Q and grabs his wallet.
Q laughs and turns back to his computer.
Later, as Q is reading an article online and eating his Feijoada, which he quite enjoys, actually, his earpiece crackles. Suddenly he can hear Bond's voice, but it isn't directed at him.
The bloody idiot's accidentally switched on his earpiece. Moron. Q is about to switch his off, when he hears something intriguing.
"You've been so naughty… what am I going to do with you, my dear?" Bond's suave voice sounds clear in Q's ear.
"Ohhhhh, Mr. Bond…" A woman is moaning.
Q freezes with his fork in mid-air.
Is that…? Are they…?
They are.
"Yes… please… mmmm…"
Q blushes in embarrassment, but doesn't move to switch off the earpiece.
The sound of clothing rustling and skin rubbing against skin.
More moaning from the woman.
Q sets down his fork and listens. He's not quite sure why he's listening in the first place. Then he hears a low grunt from Bond. Sudden arousal hits Q like a tonne of bricks.
Oh my god…
Now frantic motions in a fast rhythm. More groans from Bond, loud and clear in Q's earpiece.
Q doesn't stop to think about what he's doing. He quickly pushes back his chair and unbuttons his cardigan, tossing it on the floor along with his undershirt. He throws himself on the bed, undoing his trousers and pulling them down with his pants at the same time. He grasps his already hard cock and thrusts into his hand to the rhythm of the sounds in his earpiece.
"Faster, faster… please, more…" the woman pleads.
Q ignores the sound of her voice.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget how to speak…" Bond groans.
Q can't stand it. He's lost control and is thrusting frantically, and Bond's voice sounds so low and gravelly in his ear… it's as if he's speaking directly to him…
The woman suddenly screams and Bond groans over and over again as he rides out his orgasm.
The groans send Q over the edge and he cries out loudly, cum streaking across his chest in pleasurable waves.
The earpiece goes eerily silent.
"…Q, are you there?"
Fuck. Q switches off his earpiece hastily before he can make this even worse. He has no idea if Bond heard him or not.
Still shaking, he cleans himself up.
He's not attracted to Bond. He's Bond's quartermaster. It's not like that.
Q recalls the way Bond sounded in his orgasm.
…okay, Bond is a sexy man. Everyone can admit that. Bond could seduce anybody. It doesn't mean that Q is attracted to him.
Q's previous boyfriends were cute. Good-looking. Attractive. They looked nothing like Bond.
Nothing… they didn't have short blond hair, or icy blue eyes, or tight chest muscles, or solid abs, or thick, strong arms, or a perfectly sculpted arse…
Q hears the key being turned in the door and panics. He tries to look as neutral as possible, sitting in the chair under the window at his computer. It's the next morning, and he figures he can get away with his story.
Hopefully.
Bond walks in and takes off his shoes. Q doesn't look up. Bond comes to stand in the middle of the room. Q can feel his eyes burning into the side of his head.
Q turns and looks at the agent.
"Q. I know you heard me."
Q swallows. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Bond takes a few steps closer. "You heard me. With that woman."
As hard as he tries not to react, Q starts blushing furiously, and it gives him away. "Okay fine, I heard you. But it's not my fault you're incompetent and can't turn off a bloody earpiece!" He jumps up out of his seat and faces Bond. "By the time I realized what you were doing, it was too late for me to turn off my own earpiece. Thanks for that."
Bond takes one step closer. They're separated by half a metre. He stares into Q's eyes.
Q blinks. "What the hell do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Right. Then excuse me, I'm going to go shower and... whatever." Q steps past Bond and heads towards the bathroom.
"I heard you."
Q stops. His heart begins to race. Bond can probably hear it from across the room. Oh god…
He can feel Bond come up right behind him; he can feel the heat in the space between their bodies.
"I heard you. You got off to hearing me get off."
Q has no idea what to do.
Suddenly he feels Bond's hand at the back of his neck. Q twitches at the contact and his neck goes slack, his head dropping forward against his chest, enjoying the pleasurable touch.
"You're aroused by me. You're attracted to me. You're helpless right now, aren't you? I can feel you. You can't fight it. I could do whatever I wanted to you right now and you couldn't stop me." His rough fingers brush lightly along Q's hairline. Q shivers.
Bond wraps both his hands around Q's neck, and leans forward to whisper in his right ear.
"Give yourself to me."
A whimper escapes Q's lips. If his brain weren't mush right now, he'd scold himself. His knees start to bend, and before he can fall Bond releases his neck, grabs him round the waist, and spins his quartermaster to face him.
Q meets his eyes and can't help but stare. He can see the fire in those blue eyes. He can feel the heat. Before he can think of a response, Bond pulls Q against his body and smashes their lips together.
Rough. It's rough. Q was always gentle with his boyfriends for fear of hurting them. He never knew he liked it rough until now. Until Bond. Everything is different with Bond. Everything is more passionate, more exciting.
Bond is kissing him with everything he has. Q finally manages to kiss back and allow his mouth to be searched by Bond's tongue.
Bond's lips are surprisingly soft, claiming Q's mouth as his own.
His hands are tight on Q's waist, clutching him with full strength. He pushes Q backwards until they hit the wall near the bed.
With Q being supported by the wall, Bond's hands move up to his cardigan and quickly undo the buttons. He throws the clothing on the floor along with Q's undershirt and begins to work on his belt and trousers.
"Don't just stand there, help me," Bond demands. Q jumps to action, unbuttoning Bond's day-old shirt.
The two undress each other quickly and resume kissing. Bond's hands explore Q's chest, feeling his hardened nipples and his soft torso, grabbing his arse and grinding their cocks together.
Q moans and wraps his arms around Bond's broad back, scratching his nails into the skin. The two grind their bodies together furiously, feeling their cocks rubbing against each other. Bond grunts and moves his lips down to Q's neck, kissing and licking and sucking every inch of it.
Suddenly he reaches around and picks Q up completely off the floor, and Q wraps his legs around Bond's hips. Bond easily carries his quartermaster over to the bed and throws him down onto his back. Bond climbs on top of him and covers him with his entire body, grinding into him in a fast rhythm.
Q is melting. The feeling of being covered by Bond like a blanket intoxicates him. It's like a drug, and it gives him confidence.
Q slides down until Bond's cock is in front of his face. He grabs it with one hand and begins pumping up and down. He can hear Bond groaning with pleasure above him.
He reaches up and takes Bond's cock into his mouth. He goes as deep as he can right away and is rewarded with a shocked noise from Bond. He slowly pulls off, just sucking on the head. He tastes warm and musky…
Bond braces against Q and shallowly thrusts into his mouth. Q reaches up and grabs Bond's arse, pushing against it encouragingly. Bond fucks Q's mouth hard, over and over and over until Q has to stop and breathe.
"Jesus, your mouth… fuck…"
"While my name's not Jesus, I will admit that I'm extraordinarily gifted…"
"You cheeky little shit," Bond laughs. He pulls Q up and lowers himself down against Q's groin. "I'll show you gifted."
"You really do use the cheesiest –" Q stops midsentence and gasps as Bond wraps his lips around his cock. "Oh fuck, god, ugh…"
Q has never received such an amazing blow job. Of course Bond is this good at it.
Q looks down at the man bobbing between his legs. Bond suddenly looks up and makes direct eye contact, his icy blue eyes staring right into Q's as he sucks up and down his cock, faster and faster, slurping and licking and swallowing…
"STOP! Stop, I'm going to…" Q pleads, and Bond obeys. He comes up and kisses Q hard, letting him taste himself.
"Do you have any –"
"Lube? Of course. Always be prepared, my little techie." Bond jumps out of bed like a wildcat, grabs a bottle from his bag, and is back on top of Q in a second. He slicks up his fingers and grabs Q's legs. Q spreads his legs and lets him in.
Bond slowly presses one finger against his arse, teasing him at the entrance. He pushes the finger inside, allowing Q to get used to the stretch and burn. Q moans and begs for more.
Bond scissors his two fingers inside of Q, stretching him open and working him from the inside.
"If you don't fuck me right this instant I'm going to be very cross with you, Mr. Bond," Q says.
"Well we wouldn't want that, would we, Q?" Bond lines himself up and presses in with his slick cock.
He pushes all the way in until his base hits Q's arse.
"Ungh, oh fuck, yes, god, Bond, James, fuck me…"
Bond groans at Q's words and begins thrusting, starting out slowly and increasing his pace as per Q's demands.
"Faster, please, fuck me harder, I can't –"
Bond pants heavily.
"Q… god you're so tight… your little arsehole is so tight… I'm going to make you beg for it, beg and plead until you can't stand it anymore…" Bond thrusts harder and harder, his hips rocking and pushing his thick cock in and out of Q, hitting his prostate with every thrust.
Bond grabs Q's arms and holds them above his head with one hand, pinning them down. Q closes his eyes and opens his mouth, breathing heavily and muttering Bond's name under his breath.
Q moans constantly, over and over, the pleasure building.
"Bond, ugh, fuck me, please, I'm so close, make me cum, please…"
Bond releases Q's arms. Q grabs his cock and starts pumping it at full speed, matching Bond's thrusts. Bond wraps his hands around Q's neck, squeezing with slight pressure. "You like that? You love when I grab your neck and control you… mmm you just need to be dominated, don't you?"
Q's eyes widen and he cries out with pleasure, pumping his cock and having his prostate hit with every thrust. It's too much. He loses control, just like the previous night with the earpiece, and comes hard.
Bond watches Q in his orgasm and it sends him over the edge. Bond groans and thrusts hard into Q's arse, over and over, filling him.
Bond slows down and removes his hands from Q's neck, leaning down to kiss him on his soft lips.
"You look absolutely gorgeous, thoroughly, properly fucked…" Bond admires his work between kisses.
Q opens his eyes and looks into Bond's. "I must admit… you certainly do live up to the hype."
Bond laughs and rolls over beside Q, pulling him close and wrapping and arm around his thin frame. His other hand brushes through Q's thick hair.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that… how long I've wanted to fuck you senseless."
Q's breathing hitches. "What? Since when?"
"Since the day I met you in the museum, with your messy hair and brown eyes and gorgeous neck…"
Q laughs nervously. "Well, I think I've always been attracted to you. After all, you are the double-oh-seven. You've practically got your own fan club."
"Yes, well I don't think any of them look as completely ravishing as you do when you're naked and taking my cock," Bond smiles cheekily and musses Q's hair.
The two of them lie together for a while, drifting in and out of light sleep.
This was definitely worth the plane ride, Q thinks as he rides something quite different.