Q let himself into 221b, shrugging out of his parka and dropping it on the floor by the door, kicking off his shoes and leaving them on the rug. He slid his hands over Bond's shoulders, down his chest, and kissed the blond man on the top of his head.
"Got something against coat hooks?" the older man queried, not looking up from the book he was reading.
"Neat freak," muttered Q, nibbling the top of one of his boyfriend's ears. Q loved Bond's ears, they were quite possibly the most perfect man ears he had ever had the pleasure to kiss, nibble, suck and lick, and it made his lover shiver with pleasure.
"Stop trying to distract me and pick your bloody coat up Q. You're such a slob at times."
Q rolled his eyes, his most distinctly Holmesian trait, but did as Bond asked, hanging up his jacket and even moving his shoes to the corner, in the absence of a proper shoe rack in the flat. When he was done he flopped into Bond's lap, shoving his book out of the way so he could snog the older man properly.
"I missed you, you gorgeous man. The whole of Q-branch are asking after you; 006 just can't terrorise in the same way."
"Three more days before they let me back in the building Q. Medical wants to see me on Friday."
Q pulled back, staring deeply into Bond's eyes, searching out any trace of the eye injury he had sustained three weeks earlier that had earned him enforced leave. His concern was so endearing, Bond kissed him lightly on the nose, earning a scowl.
"I'm not fucking seven!"
"I should hope you didn't know words like that when you were seven," Bond replied mildly, tugging Q's shirt out of his jeans so he could slide his calloused hand over the younger man's flat stomach. He pushed his shirt higher so he could reach his nipple, brushing across it with his thumb while his mouth moved over Q's neck.
"Sherlock was my twelve year old brother. By the time I was seven I could swear in five different languages and order alcohol in three. He was an excellent teacher. He taught me how to give a banana a blow job too."
Bond froze, hand halfway in Q's trousers. "Please tell me that didn't happen when you were seven!"
"Course not, I was probably about thirteen or so. Mycroft walked in and nearly had a heart attack when he saw how good I was at fellating fruit. He had a huge fight with Sherlock, and then told Mummy who just said 'that's nice dear'."
"Mycroft hasn't kidnapped me in at least a month; I don't think he loves me anymore. How you made it to adulthood with the brothers you have is a miracle, but the bonus for me is you are exceptionally good at fellatio. I bet you made a lot of bananas very happy."
"Mm," Q agreed as Bond curled his fingers around Q's half hard cock, circling the head with a lazy thumb. "Oh yes... That's good..." Bond nibbled along his collar bone pausing to suck a deep purple bruise on Q's shoulder. "Want to go upstairs...?" Bond squeezed and began to lazily stroke him to fullness. "Please James...? Before they come home...?"
Bond scooped his boyfriend into his arms, carrying him easily to the upstairs bedroom where he dropped him onto the bed, falling beside him. Their kisses grew ever more heated, Bond rolling onto his back and pulling Q on top of him so he could strip him of his cardigan and shirt. He barely managed half the buttons before Q was impatiently pulling both off over his head, knocking his glasses skew whiff in the process. Bond smiled indulgently, straightening them for him.
"I would tell you to get contacts for moments like this if I didn't find your glasses so hot."
"Stop talking and fuck me James."
"Demanding little prick, aren't you?" Bond chuckled reaching for the lube on the bedside table, chucking a pillow at Q. "Get naked, arse up."
Q kicked off his trousers and underwear, shuffling over the pillow, upper torso resting on the bed. He carefully placed his glasses on the table and then cushioned his head on his folded forearms watching Bond undress unreasonably slowly.
"You know what my favourite part of you is?"
"My cock?" Bond caressed his impressive erection a foot from Q's kiss-swollen lips. Q sighed.
"Your pecs. You have exceptionally hot pecs."
"Last time it was my ears, the time before that was my knees. Never my cock Q?"
"It's outstanding, love, now please use it to good effect."
Bond kissed down every bump of his spine until he reached the spot near the base that never failed to make his lover squirm. He rested his hands on Q's bony hips and stroked both thumbs over it with just the right amount of pressure to start him wriggling against the pillow and then laved his tongue over it. The sudden warm wet sensation sent a shiver along the length of Q's back. "Oh lovely..."
"You certainly are..." Bond murmured, moving hands over Q's buttocks, thumbs brushing the crease of his arse, tongue trailing a warm wet stripe down to his puckered entrance. He flicked the tip over his hole, chuckling at Q's breathy "oh god James... Yes please..." Bond's tongue teased over the tight ring of muscle, probing and stroking, dipping and licking, until it relaxed under his ministrations and he pressed one finger in unbearably slowly to the knuckle. Q groaned, pressing back against him like he could go further.
"Stop teasing James you bastard!"
"Language Q or do you want me to stop?" Bond laughed removing his finger.
"No," he wailed, "just... more and faster... Please?"
"As you wish, Your Highness."
Bond popped the cap on the bottle drizzling his fingers and palm generously with lube, slicking up his cock and reaching round to give Q's three lazy pulls with his slippery hand. Q tried to thrust into his fist, anything to chase that beautiful sensation, but Bond released him with a tight squeeze that bordered on the uncomfortable. Before Q could protest however, two fingers were pushing firmly but carefully into his arse, and his knees were nudged further apart so is lover's other hand could cup and roll his balls. He worked his fingers slowly for a few thrusts, and then curled his fingers to slide over Q's prostate. The younger man's response was immediate, lower body lurching into the pillow so hard Bond's fingers almost slipped free of him.
"Needy boy," James chuckled. Q growled but kept his comment to himself when James added a third and started enthusiastically finger-fucking him, connecting with his prostate every second or third stroke.
"Oh fuck... that's... oh god... want you now... pl.. plea... Please!"
Q yelled when Bond pulled out with a deliberate drag of the pads of his fingers across his prostate that almost caused Q to lose it there and then. Before he had a chance to properly recover Bond was sliding home with force that had Q scrabbling at the sheets and keening. So full, so damn full, and oh god it was glorious. Bond stopped for a second, balls deep, giving Q a moment. "Ok?"
"Y-yes..."
"Good." Bond pulled out almost completely and slammed in once more, loving the sound Q made, somewhere between a scream and a sigh and completely, utterly Q. Q's dark curls were damp with sweat at the nape of his neck, a light sheen of perspiration across his back, his chest pressed to the bed. "God you're gorgeous. I could do this forever."
"You... don't have... the stamina... old ma-an... Oh god, yes, harder... there, oh fuck, there... I'm going to... Fuck!" He panted between thrusts, bracing himself on his forearms and screaming out the final obscenity as he came suddenly and unexpectedly over the pillow without being touched. The shock wave through his body tightened around Bond and he emptied himself into the younger man shouting Q's name.
Q's body abandoned any attempt to hold him up and he sagged onto the sticky pillow, Bond collapsing heavily on top of him. They lay for long minutes, each listening to the other breathe. Q winced slightly when Bond slipped free but reassured his lover with "So good."
"Mm, very good for an old man I think you'll find. Don't disrespect your elders, darling, or they might just prove you wrong." Bond kissed him between the shoulder blades and rolled off him, returning with a box of tissues so they could clean up. The pillow was tossed onto the floor and the duvet was dragged over them, Q snuggling against Bond's chest, the older man petting his hair.
"I love you James," Q murmured, "everyone should feel like this."
Bond smiled and hugged him. "You're a bit if a romantic at heart. Love you too."
"How's it going with John?"
Bond laughed, shoulders and chest shaking beneath his young lover. "You bring that up now? Put it this way, if your brother doesn't open his eyes soon I'll be buggering John over the breakfast table by Friday. Probably while Sherlock eats his cereal from it. "
"Is it wrong that I find that image a turn on?"
"Only if you're thinking of John and not me. I don't know why you can't just talk to Sherlock about it. This bizarre plan of yours is far more dangerous than half my missions."
"You can't talk to Sherlock about feelings. He needs data, evidence, experience, so you have to show him how he feels. How can that be dangerous?"
"Hmm let me see... A certain protective big brother by the name of Mycroft Holmes? The littlest Holmes boy's lover is seducing the most annoying Holmes boy's fiancé, who appears quite willing to drop his trousers for just a little bit of affection. If Mycroft finds out John and I will have a considerably reduced lifespan."
"Oh. Good point. But that is incredibly hot!" He grinned up at Bond, green eyes shining.
"My slow, agonising death turns you on? Good to know Q."
"It'll be fine. I have the ability to destroy their lives with a few keystrokes if they try to hurt you. Just be more obvious, then Sherlock will get jealous and start taking notice of John again."
"And we'll all live happily ever after? You're gorgeously naive, but for a delicate twig of a man you're bloody scary. Shall we clean up and start dinner? Flirting over an omelette might get your brother's attention. Maybe you could try being a little jealous yourself, before I start believing you don't care."