Harry
Bond had been working with his prize he'd gotten last weekend. He loved nothing more than a new toy and the more dangerous, the better. He fully intended on using it on Q, not above using the lad as an experiment.
He had the charged stone in his pocket as he made his way to the kitchens to have a cuppa and a snack before turning in for the night. The kitchen was deserted, even the staff off in the back doing their nightly closing up duties.
Bond poured his own tea, the stone making him radiate an energy of pure sensuality. Powerful sexuality.
He had the charged stone in his pocket as he made his way to the kitchens to have a cuppa and a snack before turning in for the night. The kitchen was deserted, even the staff off in the back doing their nightly closing up duties.
Bond poured his own tea, the stone making him radiate an energy of pure sensuality. Powerful sexuality.
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And when he walked into the kitchen and saw him there, his ass looking absolutely perfect in those trousers, those feelings practically slapped hi the face. More than he would have ever anticipated. He couldn't even say anything at first.
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Bond had his cup to his lips when he saw Harry. Handsome as ever. He had come to terms with the facthe was going to ache every time he saw the man.
The stone noticed. Noticed his want. Noticed his craving.
It drew Harry closer.
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He moved closer, and it took every once of willpower he had to stop. "Good evening, James."
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"Harry," he nodded.
Bond lowered his cup and watched him come closer, itching to touch him.
"Having a good evening?"
He could be polite. He didn't want to give Harry any ammunition to use against him with Q.
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"Yes, I'm fine."
... damnit. He couldn't avoid this forever. "We should talk, don't you think."
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"Talk?" Bond repeated.
Talking wasn't his first thought. Nor his second.
"I imagine so. What's on your mind, pet?" he asked, the term slipping without thought.
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Bond followed after, annoyed that Harry would dare take that tone. He was in no rush to chat.
He wasn't even certain he could follow a conversation right now with his eyes locked on Harry's ass.
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God, it was hard to look at him. He was at least glad they were here, and not in James' office, or one of their bedrooms, or any other place they'd fucked time and time again.
"Q told me about your... relationship," he said.
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"He explained to me your friendship as well," he said with a judging little sneer.
"I don't care who he talks to, Harry. He's not a slave."
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"Jealous?" he smirked.
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Jealous? Yes. Of both of them.
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"You needn't be concerned about anything, Harry," he said. "Nothing I do is any of your concern anymore, remember?"
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Bloody hell, was it hot in here? He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
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"What's your real issue, Harry?" Bond snapped.
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"I hurt him in new and interesting ways, pet," Bond purred as he moved closer. Closer.
His nostrils flared as he caught Harry's scent.
"He doesn't cry out quite like you do, though..."
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"Good," he said. Though why that was good was unclear.
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Nearly chest to chest, Bond looked into his eye.
"It's a pity, really," he said, the stone radiating power, driving him to act on feelings he tried to keep tamped down.
"I miss my name on your lips, Harry. I miss how you beg."
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"I never took anything you didn't willingly give," he said. "I miss knowing you want me. We were good together, Harry. You and I. It was good."
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"We were," he said. "Unfortunate that you fucked it up."
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"We were," he agreed, a hand sliding along Harry's waist.
He pointedly ignored the other bit.
"Tell me you don't miss me," he demanded quietly.
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