A/N: Wow, this is kind of getting away from me! But it's been fun to write. Err, hope you're enjoying where it's going.

Chapter 2

After the "incident" (as Q had dubbed it in his head), Q took note of Bond's flirting just a little more. He noticed how Bond let his eyes linger, how he let his hand touch Q's wrist to get his attention. Was it just in Q's imagination? Surely Bond flirted with everyone, so this meant nothing, right? Q decided to ignore him, but the man was certainly making it hard to do so.

This time Q had to meet him in the field. He was delivering some equipment and was to meet Bond in a public place. As Q waited on the park bench, he took a moment to enjoy the afternoon sunlight on his face. He stretched out his legs, enjoying the solitude and the pure pleasure of just being out in the open air for once, and not stuck inside a windowless box. A box that he loved to be in most of the time, admittedly, and a place where he felt safe and in control. But it was still nice to get out and feel like a real person sometimes, who did real things like sit on park benches in the middle of the day.

He perked up as he noticed Bond coming towards him, looking smart in his black wool coat, his icy blue eyes striking as they scanned the park before coming to rest on Q. He saw Bond look at his long outstretched legs before his eyes traveled upward, over his body, to meet his own eyes. Q quirked his eyebrow.

"See something you like?" He didn't know why he encouraged him. Well, actually, he knew why.

"I wasn't followed." Of course Bond chose this one time to be totally professional.

Q handed Bond a small box, and explained the contents as he opened it slightly. "Your Walther PPK, all shined up after your last mishap. A USB with decryption software. And your new earpiece, modified to withstand water, which is a new touch. I know you're fond of swimming." Q's voice was smooth and soft, remaining completely detached.

"So thorough, Q. That's what I like about you." Bond smiled his crooked smile and closed the case with a small snap. "I hope you enjoy this next mission as much as the last." As he went to stand up, his knee brushed lightly against Q's knee, and Q could feel a blush creep up over his face completely without his permission.

"That depends," Q ventured, rising to stand as well, a bit unsure but hiding it behind his cool facade. He looked Bond in the eye, wanting to see his reaction, wanting to know if he felt it as well or if he was merely flirting reflexively.

"On?" Bond's expression gave away nothing.

"How vocal you get." At that, Bond's little smirk returned, his eyes bright.

"Oh, I'll make sure you'll like it." At his words, Q felt a little thrill race through his body. Bond was going to perform for him. Q returned the closed lipped smile, turned smartly and strode away, wondering how he would make it through the rest of the work day with a massive hard on.

"Now Bond," Q quipped, "Remember your mission is to gather information only, as quick as possible. No explosions. And get out of there with as little contact as possible."

"That's not what you said this morning," Bond teased softly. Q scoffed as he pulled up the CCTV feed and visually located Bond as he walked across an expansive porch before heading into an elegant mansion. The billionaire hosts were his targets for the evening. The feed was not high quality, but Q could see well enough. He admired the lean muscles' movement beneath the tuxedo, his mind wandering towards indecent thoughts, thinking of the muscles he had imagined touching. He wondered how obvious it would be if he locked his office door. Focus, he told himself. Do your job. Don't miss anything because you were staring at Bond's arse.

"I guess it's time to test out how well your equipment works," Bond said as he adjusted his bowtie.

"Of course it works," Q said somewhat indignantly. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," Bond replied seriously. That made Q sober up a little. There was silence then from Bond as he entered the party, the noise and chatter filling up the channel.

Bond didn't disappoint. But, he did surprise. Q heard the obvious flirtation coming from the wife, a beautiful woman with long brown hair, pinned up prettily. Definitely Bond's type. What he did not expect was the laughter and subtle flirtation from the husband when the two were alone for a moment. And he certainly didn't expect Bond to take that avenue of intelligence gathering.

The evening grew later and the party noise grew quieter as Bond stepped into a vacant hallway, pulling the thinner man behind him. Q lost visual contact, but was still connected by the audio. He heard the husband begin to talk and then was cut off, Q getting an earful of their kiss. He heard the very soft slide of stubble from the other man's cheek against Bond's as he pulled away, and he heard Bond almost purr. Q was instantly turned on.

There was some silence and he desperately wished for some CCTV feed so he could see what was going on, see the look in Bond's eyes, but his own imagination would have to suffice. He imagined those clear blue eyes meeting his, Bond's hand against the wall next to his head, the other wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. He heard the desperate kiss again, the slight moans of want and need and desire and urgency.

"Bedroom," Bond grunted, and he heard their loud footsteps and Bond fake stumble and laugh in an admirable performance. A door opened and closed, and then there were only the sounds of bodies and lips coming together. They fell back on the bed and Bond began to slowly take the man's clothes off, beginning a narration that Q found incredibly erotic.

"Mmm, no, keep the glasses on. I quite like them." More kissing, more rustling of clothes. Q followed suit, beginning to shuck garments, turned on the by the fact that Bond knew exactly what he was doing, knew what his sounds and words were doing to him. The unzipping of pants was followed by a breathy sigh that Q echoed, his hand sliding below his waistband.

"Your lips are so soft, I bet they'd feel great around my cock." Q groaned, beginning to pump up and down. He imagined Bond lying sprawled on his back, shirt open, bowtie undone and draped around his neck. "I thought about it earlier, what it'd be like to have you on your knees in front of me like you are right now. It got me so hard."

He heard a bit of a groan from Bond as the man was obviously lavishing attention on his cock. Q imagined himself drawing those groans from Bond, licking up and down his length, teasing before finally drawing him inside his mouth, Bond's hands coming to tangle in his hair.

"Yes, that's good," Bond grunted out as the movements began to get faster, his moans a little deeper. Q relished the deep timbre as it echoed through his ears, filling him with pleasure all the way down to his toes. And then – "Wait, wait. I want to be inside you. I want to pound my cock into that tight little arse. I want to hear my name on your lips as you come while I'm fucking you."

Q let out a strangled moan at that, idly wondering if he'd bothered to mute the connection this time or not. His distracted brain couldn't really remember if he had. Q heard the other man's sighs as Bond was obviously giving his body some attention now. Q wondered if he was stroking his cock as he kissed and licked down his neck and collarbone. That sounded nice.

"Would you like that? Would you like me to pound into you hard?"

Q thought about it, a little nervous to respond. Though they were already basically having phone sex, interaction would make it a little more real, and the thought was more than a little nerve-wracking. Q heard the man's affirmative answer and a pause from Bond as he waited for Q's reply.

"Yes," Q finally got out.

"I thought you would." Ok, so he hadn't muted the connection apparently. Q heard some shifting and the bed creaking as they shifted positions.

"I want to watch you get yourself nice and ready for me." He heard Bond draw backward, imagining him leaning back on his haunches, his eyes predatorily raking over Q's frame. Q nervously slid his fingers lower, wordlessly obeying, making tiny mewling noises as he breached himself.

"Mm so gorgeous, watching you fuck yourself with your fingers, anticipating my cock inside of you." Q was shutting his eyes now, his other hand back to moving up and down his own cock, Bond's voice mesmerizing him.

"Tell me you want me. Tell me you want my cock." Bond's tone was silky and commanding. It licked at the corners of Q's mind, melting him, melting his inhibitions.

"Yes, please, I want your cock. Please, James." Q could practically hear Bond's grin.

"Good boy." Q heard the other man responding, asking James to fuck him, begging. Q let himself be silent, only his little gasps coming through. He heard the slick sliding of lubricant, the bodies coming together, and then a low growl as Bond slid inside the man. Q rolled his head back, slowing down his hands on himself, imagining feeling Bond's cock filling him up so slowly and tightly. Q could feel how close he was already, the build-up and the teasing voice and the nerves all coming together so intensely that his body was wound up so tight and ready to burst. Bond seemed desperate to climax as well as he hardly gave the man time to adjust and then was beginning to pump his hips fast, pounding into him hard as he had promised.

"You look so gorgeous with my cock inside you," Bond continued. Q let the words and Bond's breathing spill over him, imagining his breath coming in puffs against his neck as Bond moved closer, moving Q's legs back so he could slide in deeper, jerking Q's cock tightly.

"I'm close," Q bit out, his hand moving up and down quickly in time with the creaking bed, his fingers moving within himself, feeling his orgasm building up quickly.

"Come for me," Bond's voice commanded and Q obeyed, the pleasure suddenly welling up and washing over him in waves.

"Yes, yes, James!" Q called as he stroked himself through his climax, hearing Bond's answering moans in his ear, delighting in the beautiful feeling that pumped through his body as his heart pulsed rapidly and he came in spurts onto his stomach.

"Fuck, yes, so fucking good." Bond's words became less eloquent as he came hard a moment later, closing his eyes and gradually slowing his hips before moving down to rest his body on top of the warm one beneath him. They breathed companionably for a few minutes, Q slumped backward in his chair, his hair flopped forward over his eyes and a light sweat covering his entire body.

Eventually Q let out a small laugh and a shy smile was clear in his voice as he said, "That was… nice…"

Bond let out a breathy laugh himself. "That was fucking fantastic." Q heard some light kissing that sounded more intimate and he felt just a tinge of jealousy, wishing he were the one on the receiving end of those soft lips. Then he felt just a little bad for the man Bond had basically used as a toy in his and Q's sex game. But not that bad.

He heard their murmurings as they continued the conversation they had started earlier in the evening. They planned another business mixed with pleasure rendezvous in the future, and this was the true intel that Bond was here to gather. They needed the where's and when's of the billionaire's business dealings and his likely criminal connections. The two men donned their clothing quickly, not wanting to be missed for too long from the party. Bond gave the man a searing kiss before sending him out of the room first, giving the excuse as to not raise suspicion if they both exited at the same time. Q used the time to clean himself up, re-zip his pants and fix his glasses which had gone askew.

"Quite an enjoyable method of gathering intel," Bond commented once they were alone. Q snorted a bit, not wanting to remark on what had just happened and risk disturbing the delicate balance that their relationship (or whatever it was they were now doing) was teetering on. Bond remained in the room to see if he could scout out some information while he was there anyway, sorting through some files and checking the walls for hidden safes before sitting down at a small desk with a desktop computer.

"Use the USB," Q prompted, as he heard Bond pecking away at a keyboard.

"I am. What do you think I am, stupid?"

Q rolled his eyes even though Bond couldn't see him. He was now able to trace Bond's movements on the computer through the tracing program Bond installed. Q monitored the data drop and kept his eyes on the visuals he had in the party's main room.

"The wife is headed your way, looking for her husband," Q informed him a minute later. Bond finished up his search, executing the program to remove any traces of his presence, and removed the USB.

"She's a little too late to join the party," Bond replied.

"Yes, you would've liked that, 007," Q said somewhat amusedly. He noted he was back to using Bond's official title. Q heard the door open and shut very quietly, then Bond was suddenly back in the party, mingling congenially with the drunken guests, making his way out as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. The next time Bond spoke he had made it to his Aston Martin and was driving swiftly away.

"I'll be back at headquarters in two hours and you can analyze the USB, but you should have everything you need already." Q grunted an affirmative, tracing the car's movement, monitoring any unusual traffic to be sure that Bond wasn't followed from the party.

"You're clear. No one's following you." There was more silence now as Bond drove away, and Q struggled with what to say to the man he'd just had sex with over the line. He looked at his clock. It was about 11:30 pm.

"Bring the equipment back to me tomorrow. It's late," Q finally said.

"Q?" Bond began in a tone that Q couldn't really identify. Q felt his heart start to beat a little faster.

"Yes?" There was an excruciating pause as he wondered what Bond was possibly going to say.

"Meet me at your flat. Tonight." Q blinked.

"Ok." He then disconnected their audio and leaned back in his chair. He knew he had to analyze the data Bond had pulled, but his mind was not in the mood to focus. He had just had sex with Bond. Sort of. Bloody fantastic, wonderful, mind-boggling sex. And now he was coming over to his flat. Shit.

He snapped back into work mode, finishing his tasks with lightning speed. He then got up and grabbed his coat, walking out the door in what he hoped was a nonchalant and non-panicked manner. When he reached his flat he sat down on his couch and looked around the room, books thrown about, a cardigan discarded over the back of the arm chair, and a pile of dishes in the sink. And he waited, his heart hammering in his chest.