Finishing the martini turned out to be a very bad idea. Q turned out to be just as much of a lightweight as Bond expected. He giggled infrequently but giggled nonetheless. It was rather amusing to watch. Bond was on his second martini in two hours but was taking it more slowly this time, sipping only when the burn from the last drink was completely gone. He didn't let Q order another yet. He wanted to give the thin man some time to metabolize the drink before he put any more into his system. Bond was doubtful that the man had even touched vodka before, let alone drunk something of 80 proof or higher. Judging by his much more amiable attitude and random little smiles this was definitely his first verge into the world of the martini.
Bond was halfway through his second drink before he realized that he had no conception whatsoever of where the younger man lived. He was almost completely anonymous, with "Quartermaster" being his only real identifier. He had much less to go on than he had realized, and he wasn't about to contact M at five in the morning asking where the new Quartermaster lived. That would come off as not only unprofessional, but somewhat creepy if he provided no context. And he sure as hell wasn't going to be providing context.
"James," said his current drinking partner, snapping the older agent out of his train of thought. He noticed that the brunet was blushing more than just a little. Hell, the kid was pale, and the red stain on his cheeks showed up in high contrast. He barely even registered the use of his first name. Usually only the women he slept with, be it for fun or information, used his first name. MI6 referred to him as 007, M and certain other agents as Bond, but 'James' came up very infrequently. "Tell me what you're thinking about."
Q seemed to want to get into his head no matter how intoxicated he was. It made Bond wonder. What was so fascinating about him? He was roughly the same man as he appeared to be. The man sitting next to him was more of a puzzle.
"No," he replied succinctly, glancing over at the asker. "Why do you want to know?"
"You always seem to be thinking about something fascinating, but you don't talk very much." He did state the obvious, but in his defense he was somewhat drunk.
"You, on the other hand, say exactly what you think. You do enough talking for both of us." Bond did find it true.
He reacted as if the other agent had just said something extremely funny and started to shake a little with contained laughter before a couple of little laughs escaped the hand he had thrown over his mouth. Bond smiled at him and recognized that Q was drunk enough now for him to slip something into the brunet's drink without him noticing. When he started to demand another martini because "I like the way it feels when it goes down…it's warm but not…burning warm. It's rather pleasant like when you get under the blankets when it's cold but it gets too hot under the blankets and you stay anyway," Bond asked for a glass of water and for the younger agent's drink to be only half full. The bartender just shrugged and did as they were told, giving Bond the two glasses.
Q, meanwhile, was a bit of a possessive drunk. He had gotten off the bar stool and was randomly collecting things which appealed to him. There were a few corks in his hand along with one of those little plastic toothpicks that looked like a sword, and a cocktail napkin in an apparently fascinating shade of burgundy. The blond agent would occasionally hear something along the lines of "Oh, that's interesting…I want it….It's mine."
Bond decided that the brunet had drunk enough and set about diluting his drink with the water he had asked for. Q, engrossed in all of the fascinating colors around him, paid absolutely no notice. He at one point stumbled upon an American quarter, and gleefully added it to a tiny pile, which had begun at his place at the bar. He counted the ridges around the rim a few times in apparent fascination for the currency, and would take a sip of his martini every time he had to start over. It was going fast, and Bond's water glass had just about run out. When Q noticed that his martini glass was empty, he looked over at Bond with those big pale eyes of his, then looked at the other agent's undiluted drink. He slowly reached over to where the older agent had his drink and started to slowly unwrap the man's fingers from around the stem of the glass. "I want more. Please."
007 found himself in absolutely no position to refuse. He was slightly intoxicated himself, and found the actions of the wavy-haired man somewhat adorable. He let his fingers be unwrapped by Q's slim ones and the drink was swiftly stolen from his grip and slid over to the little pile. "Mine," he said quietly. The now-drunk man seemed to have very little (if any) of a filter between his mind and his mouth. This constantly amused Bond, and he liked seeing the less professional side of the man. Even genii had their down time. Q took a drink from the glass, which he admired in the dim lighting of the bar. He made a small noise of surprise, as it was a lot more alcohol than his last few drinks had been.
Q was thoroughly enjoying this outing. His very calm and collected manner had dissipated, and he wasn't exactly thinking clearly in the state he was currently in. He knew he was enjoying himself, though, because he felt his cheeks burn and an urge to giggle when he glanced over at the man next to him. That felt like happiness. There was also interest when there was a particularly nice color lying around. He particularly enjoyed the color burgundy and found some nice-looking wine corks and one napkin in that color which he intended to keep. He kept looking over at the field agent next to him, though. Burgundy was nice but Q though the man was nicer looking, especially the smile in his eyes when they made eye contact. He smiled and laughed a little, tugging on the man's sleeve. He was still coherent enough to form ideas and sentences when he put his mind to it, but his errant thoughts were rather loopy. "James, what are we going to do?"
The other man simply quirked an eyebrow in response. Q glanced at the clock and spent a very long time looking at the hands and attempting to figure out the time.
"It's almost six in the morning," he pointed out, making a bit of a pouty face. "Where should we go?"
"This is a hotel," he pointed out. "And I do have a room, on the eighth floor."
"Oh, good," he said brightly, smiling. "Let's go there, then. The burning drink is all done."
Bond had long since figured that he wasn't taking the man home in this state. He had next to no tolerance for alcohol and was wasted already. He would have a hard time finding the sink, let alone spending the night by himself without causing major bodily harm. He left his room number and a generous tip for the bartender before pocketing Q's little pile of stuff and leading the way to the bank of elevators, which the younger man was very interested in. Bond pressed the up button and soon they were on their way. He could have sworn he heard the brunet mutter "My secret agent" as he was dragged into the elevator with a stupid smile on his face, holding onto the sleeve of Bond's jacket. He seemed a bit drowsy suddenly and ended up leaning onto the agent's shoulder, his head tucked into the crook between the blond's shoulder and neck. When the elevator began to rise he looked a little startled and raised his head, pressed tightly against Bond's front.
"James…" he said in interest. Bond could have sworn that the brown-haired man was looking straight through him with those pale eyes of his.
"Got a question for me?" he asked with the same tone.
"Not exactly," he replied, slurring his words a bit. His words may be a little loopy, but he managed to stay surprisingly coherent for being so intoxicated. "Maybe something else."
"What would that be?" he asked, amused.
Q straightened up a bit so he was eye-to-eye with the blond agent and then kissed him. It wasn't a particularly sensual kiss, or captivating, but he liked it and decided to continue on with it. There wasn't a lot he would have stopped for, but running out of air was one of them. It was a good minute or so before he actually had to breathe and pulled away to do so.
Bond looked rather startled. Well, he looked mildly surprised and that was as much as Q was going to get. He'd been kissed by a grand number of attractive women in the line of duty but men were much more scarce. He'd only had three or four over the past few years. It was a rare and somewhat different experienced. Bond had never denied enjoying it just as much with men, if not more on occasion. They tended to be more physical and he'd had some very interesting acrobatic sex with one once. Never in an elevator, though. He realized that he'd blanked out momentarily to think when another kiss from Q brought him back from space. He enjoyed it this time, responding a bit and putting his arms around the man's waist to keep him from teetering backwards. He tried to convince himself that the intimate gesture was only occurring because the other party was rather drunk. He probably would have let Q balance on his own if he weren't drunk, or at least that's what Bond told himself. He didn't stop to think that this would probably never happen if both of their inhibitions were less present than usual, Q's especially so. The intoxicated man in question ended up against the elevator wall as Bond took more control. The physical side of sex was easy for him, and came quickly no matter what situation he was in. Bond didn't even stop to think that the attractive man he had currently pressed against the wall of an elevator was technically his superior and had probably never had sex before.
That changed when Q made a surprised noise, startled at the fact that Bond had quickly entered teeth into the equation. The brunet was currently having his bottom lip bitten and responding rather suggestively, if the buckle of his knees and hot blush had anything to do with it. He pressed himself even more tightly against 007, responding with a nip of his own to the line of Bond's jaw where blond stubble made his skin seem rough. Bond tipped up the brunet's chin and kissed the pulse point underneath, making Q gasp and his breath hitch. He appreciated that noise and started to suck on it before beginning to bite, aiming to leave a very obvious mark.
"My little Quartermaster," he growled, leaving bites all over, especially on the younger man's exposed neck. It was the primal sign of submission, and the more animalistic side of Bond enjoyed it very much. Q gasped and writhed beneath him, green eyes fluttering shut, occasionally opening up wide when Bond did something particularly interesting.
The elevator reached their floor far too quickly and the loud ding silenced the gasping breaths and occasional moans. Bond pulled Q out of the elevator, and he stumbled obediently along, still not breathing regularly. Bond shoved the key in the slot and the door opened silently, admitting the two men who quickly continued their interrupted activity. Q's cardigan was quickly disposed of, ending up right on top of Bond's suit jacket, which had been casually tossed over a chair. A few buttons ended up on the ground as both worked on their Oxfords. Q got a little frustrated and pulled Bond in before he was even half done. They met in a rough, bruising kiss, with Q's slim and graceful fingers undoing the other agent's belt and zipper. He found Bond's sizeable bulge underneath the sharp black dress pants and teased him, running his fingertips over him through the fine silk boxers that the Double 0 agent favored. Bond let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan, and quickly had Q down to his light gray boxers, his ripped open shirt, and his tie, which never quite made it off. His glasses were still balanced rather precariously on his nose and Q kept them, wanting to see what was going on in explicit detail. Bond was being forceful in his rough, dominant kisses and quickly had Q falling back onto the bed with a soft gasp of surprise as he was suddenly spread out and vulnerable to whatever Bond wanted to do. Said man climbed on top of him, an intimidating figure, and it turned the green-eyed man on to no end. He had never before realized how much he wanted this, and the roughness and swiftness with which it was happening just made it all the more real.
Q choked on a moan as Bond's calloused hand ran over his cock, which strained against the gray material of his boxers. Needless to say, it took Bond very little time to rip them off, before denying Q the skin on skin contact. He had a very self satisfied smirk on his face as the thin man arched his back and whined, begging for his touch again. He reached up and buried his fingers in the short blond hair, pulling Bond down for another kiss that was open-mouthed and needy as the boundaries between them started to blur. When Bond pulled away Q took the moment to enjoy the sight of him, on display but in a very dominant way. He ran his fingertips down 007's chest, marveling at the very firm muscles of his abdomen, and smiling at the coarse blond hair leading from his navel down to underneath his silk boxers. He trailed his hand down it, teasing the waistband of Bond's boxers down while the older man went to work on his neck again. Q moaned quietly as Bond kissed a spot on which he'd left a red mark and very sensitive skin. His fingers twitched as he arched his back, making little pleased noises, which got more and more desperate. As soon as the blond man turned his attention away from Q's neck, the brunet quickly yanked down Bond's boxers, trailing one slim finger up his length, which made the agent above him involuntarily jerk his hips, his cock rising even father, almost brushing his stomach. Q smirked, then moaned rather loudly as Bond bit and kissed at his collarbone, especially that incredibly sensitive place where his neck met his pale shoulder.
The heat between them was heavy and the tension almost palpable, the space between them becoming smaller as Bond lowered himself mostly onto Q, their skin becoming flush. Q let out a low continuous moan from the second their cocks touched to when Bond's weight was almost fully on him, the heaviness welcome and pinning him to the bed. Somehow the knowledge that he couldn't get away, that he was completely surrounded by his blond spy was making him more and more aroused. Bond groaned as his cock brushed the younger man's, wanting to take him right then and there but knowing that he should drag it out as much as possible. He lifted himself up slightly to kiss the flatter planes of Q's abdomen, which made him arch his back as much as he could, wanting stimulation. He set himself back down again, making a smooth rolling motion with his hips to make their cocks brush each other slowly. Q let out a choked moan, anticipating what would come next.