"What are you smirking at?" M's voice breaks his thoughts as she stirs gently beside him, the sheets draped over her body and clinging to her curves in the most delicious way. She rolls over, to snuggle into his side, her eyes never opening as she lays a hand across his heart.
"I'm not."
"Liar."
James chuckles. "As if you can tell. You're not even looking at me."
She smiles now. "I don't have to be. I know you."
James leans down to kiss her deeply and she moans softly against his lips. Her eyes gently flutter open as she pulls away and they find themselves staring into each other's eyes, each trying to recall if they've ever seen a more beautiful shade of blue. The morning sun highlights her cropped, white hair as it begins to drift in through the curtains and the faint chirping of birds can be heard just outside the window.
"I love you," James whispers.
M smiles a sleepy, but heartwarming smile. "I love you too."
She leans up to kiss him again and James lets out a small gasp of surprise as she rolls him onto his back and straddles his waist. As he pulls away from the kiss, he giggles and gazes up at M's naked form now straddling his own.
"We were beginning to sound a little too domestic for my liking," she says, bending down to nip at his neck. "I will not wind up on a seaside postcard with you, Mr. Bond."
"We definitely don't belong on one of those… not that they'd be able to get us in the same photo… probably make you stand on a box."
Her head snaps up to find him smirking at her, a light chuckle rumbling through his chest. Her eyes narrow even as a small smile plays about her lips.
"Oh… feeling cheeky this morning, are we?" she raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Well, Commander, I seem to recall… that I was always just the right size for this…"
Without warning, she moves down his body and takes his very prominent morning erection into her mouth.
"Fuck…" he groans and grabs the duvet in his fists, trying desperately not to roll his hips. He won't give her the satisfaction. Not yet, at least. But her mouth is so warm and welcoming… and she knows how to do a few things with her tongue that definitely weren't found on seaside postcards. He's not sure how much longer he can fight it.
She smirks up at him, knowing how hard she was making it… in every sense of the word. Her head bobs gently up and down, her hands constantly working over his shaft. He lets out a whimper and she has to fight back a giggle. He can pretend all he wants, but they both know she has him wrapped around her finger. Even tighter than her fingers are wrapped around his cock right now. She feels the stutter in his hips and smirks around him as she prepares herself for the grand finale.
She looks up and locks eyes with him, pulling away for just a second. Then, running her hands up his thighs, slowly takes him back into her mouth, moaning around him and sending vibrations to the sweetest places. She points the tip of her tongue and runs it along the underside before giving a light scrape of her teeth. Her favorite agent could never resist a hint of danger.
"Oli… Fuck!" He swears loudly as he empties himself into her waiting mouth.
She smiles and continues licking and sucking hungrily until he's spent and collapsed on the bed in a quivering puddle. She's willing to bet his legs aren't at their strongest right now, so she decides she'll wait a few minutes before inquiring about the breakfast in bed he promised her the previous day.
She trails small, open mouthed kisses back up his body before settling down beside him, gently running her fingertips across his collarbone. She smiles up at him and leaves little tiny kisses along his jawline until he comes around.
His eyes flutter open, though he doesn't remember closing them, and he lifts his head to look over at the grinning little pixie laid next to him.
"Morning," she smirks.
"Showoff," he pants, his head flopping back against the pillows.
Her laughter fills the room and he rolls over and takes her into his arms again, kissing her tenderly. She moans against his lips as he cups her breasts in his hands and arches into his touch. She smiles up at him and leans in for another kiss when her eyes catch the clock on the nightstand over his shoulder.
"Oh bloody hell…" she sighs and her head droops against his shoulder.
"What?" he presses a thigh between her legs, making her groan.
"Stop that. We don't have time. I have to go into the office."
"You're the boss. You can be late…" he whines as he trails kisses up her neck.
"You and I both know that's not true. If I'm late…" She groans and pushes his shoulder. "I mean it…" she whimpers louder as he nibbles her earlobe. "James… really… they've got to all this trouble. At your request, might I add. The least I can do is show up on time."
He huffs and pulls away. "Fine."
She purses her lips and hits him with a pillow, shrieking with laughter as his hands dart along her sides, tickling her. He'd found out that particular secret about three nights ago and seemed to be using it to his advantage whenever he could.
"James!"
He smiles and graciously relents, ducking his head for one last quick kiss as she gets out of bed and scurries off toward the bathroom to get ready.
She was definitely not your average gran. After being officially given her new identity, she sat at home trying to find something to do. She tried knitting and playing cards with girls, who were lovely ladies in their own right, but she just didn't fit in with them. It wasn't in her nature to sit at home and twiddle her thumbs. So she now worked for a florist company, which suited her nicely. She said that she'd always had a green thumb, but of course working for Six, one never really has much time to pursue personal interests. She'd taken charge almost immediately upon entering. All those years of being in charge… it was hard wired into her. It couldn't simply be switched off just because she'd been given a new name. Anyway, the women that worked there had no objection as the last manager before her was apparently a bit dimwitted and never did anything properly. She had the place running with military precision in four days, to everyone's amazement. But she wasn't dictatorial about it at all. Everyone loved her.
Which was what today was all about.
A certain "nephew" of hers let it slip that she had a birthday coming up, and all the girls in the office wanted to do something special for her given how wonderful she'd been, so they decided to throw her a party. M, or Olivia as she was now known, had deliberately kept it shtum. She really didn't like to be fussed over, and with all those years as M, those women clearly couldn't hide anything from her, which is why she'd tried to get them to call it off when she found out what they were up to. James, however, with some special persuasion tactics of his own, talked her into going. She grumbled about it for a couple of days, but she eventually relented.
"I haven't had a birthday party since I was fifteen! I wouldn't even know what to do at one, much less my own!" She huffed. "I'd just rather not have a big fuss. Getting another year older isn't exactly something I want to be reminded of at my age."
"Another year more beautiful… another year sexier…" He trailed feather light kisses over her collarbone as he held her close, snuggling into a spoons position behind her.
"Oh, come off it." She playfully slapped at his arm. "You just better hope for your sake they don't make me wear one of those ridiculous hats."
"Hadn't thought of it 'til just now…" he smirked.
"James…" she warned.
He chuckled and pushed her flush to him, grinding his hips against her.
"But don't you want your birthday present?" he whispered in her ear. "I'll even let you unwrap it early."
"Put a bow on it, and you've got a deal."
She smirked over her shoulder and turned her head to kiss him.
She'd taken most of it in stride and he was proud of her for that. He knew she wasn't exactly happy about retirement and he couldn't say he really felt comfortable calling someone else M, but honestly after the events at Skyfall, he was just grateful that they were here together now. He still remembered those moments sometimes. Those moments when he just knew he'd never see her again and all the color drained out of his world. He never knew just how strong his feelings were for her until he thought he'd lost her.
He could vaguely remember pacing around his flat, guzzling scotch to try and numb the pain. But it never really worked. He went on a new mission and, surprisingly, got the job done with minimal amounts of damage. But he was too far gone to care about the pat on the back he received for that. It wasn't as though he went around destroying buildings solely for his amusement, but he had to admit, he did shoot off an extra bomb here and there just to nag at her. He knew how it got under her skin. And although he shouldn't have, he liked it when she ranted at him. There was something so powerful about her in those moments. Looking back on it all, he really couldn't see how he didn't notice his attraction to her before. But when she died, none of that seemed to matter anymore. The missions, the guns… Queen and bloody country. It all just seemed so pointless without her.
And then one day, as he was eating alone in a small café, he caught a glimpse of something familiar. A woman- diminutive, cropped white hair. Not really outstanding to anyone else, but there was something about her. He shook himself out of it, thinking it was just his imagination playing tricks on him again. He was starting to see her everywhere. But it couldn't be real. He'd watched her die in his arms. She wasn't coming back. He threw down some cash and left the restaurant as quickly as he could, racing down the road to go see the one person who could make it better.
He stood in front of her grave. A simplistic stone marker. Dignified. He cast a downward glance at the roses he's put there a few days ago, noting that they'd started to wilt and he'd have to make a run to the shops to get more.
He knelt down in the grass, running his fingers along the stone marker, wishing he could hold her in his arms one more time. He'd get it right then. He wouldn't be so stupid, letting his pride or his reputation get in the way.
He'd look into her eyes, and he'd tell her
"I love you."
The words left his mouth just above a whisper, as if it were meant for no one's ears but hers. If only she could hear him.
He sighed.
"God, I miss you."
"I've missed you too."
His head snapped up. His eyes searched the stone in front of him. Either he had officially lost it or…
The soft rustle of blades of grass beneath feet told him that he wasn't alone.
He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and an even softer voice drifted down to his ear.
"Dear boy…"
He slowly reached up, ghosting his fingertips over the back of her hand as if checking to make sure she was solid. He needed to know it wasn't just the scotch playing tricks on him again. He lifted his head and turned to look up at her.
He wasn't dreaming.
She was there.
Without warning he stood and picked her up, twirling her around on the spot before setting her back on her feet. He hugged her as tightly as he could without crushing her, believing that the second he let her go, she'd vanish into thin air and he'd be left with nothing more than a cold marble gravemarker to remind him of the woman he once knew.
She nuzzled into his neck and ran her fingers along his back to soothe him. She hated leaving the way she did, but she knew she had no other alternative. It was the only way for her to slip away and under the radar. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be here with him now. Other than Mallory and the necessary people in the highest clearance, nobody else knew she was still alive and they weren't supposed to find out. But she couldn't let him believe she was gone. She'd been watching from a distance- had seen what it'd done to him. She decided she would break the rules one last time. Not only for his sake, but for her own.
She was sentimental about him.
Moreover, she loved him.
She pressed a light kiss to his neck and squeezed him back.
"Dear boy…" she whispered. "I'm here."
And with that, her heart shattered all over again.
She felt the distinct shaking in his shoulders. Felt the drop on her neck.
For the first time since losing his parents…
James Bond cried.
