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Harry and Q
Harry had made the arrangements and Bond and Q arrived just on time to the restaurant where they found Harry waiting with wine. As soon as they sat, a server brought a lovely amuse.
Bond wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and a blue tie Q favoured. Beneath his clothes, he had worn a ring to keep himself in check. One day he'd prove to Harry he didn't need it, that he could find a bit of self discipline, but so far he'd proven otherwise.
And this dinner was certainly not going to go the way the last one had.
He waited for Q to sat, then sat as well.
"I've been looking forward to this all day," he remarked.
Bond wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and a blue tie Q favoured. Beneath his clothes, he had worn a ring to keep himself in check. One day he'd prove to Harry he didn't need it, that he could find a bit of self discipline, but so far he'd proven otherwise.
And this dinner was certainly not going to go the way the last one had.
He waited for Q to sat, then sat as well.
"I've been looking forward to this all day," he remarked.
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When the kiss broke he said breathlessly, "My instructions especially stand now that dry cleaning might be involved."
Then he looked up at Bond while he fucked Q, Harry's expression hungry and a little dark.
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Bond was watching Harry over Q's shoulder, his blue eyes dark with lust. He fucked Q hard, only to pump slowly and roll his hips. He knew Q well enough to know how to keep him on the edge.
He'd been on the edge for so long he knew he wouldn't last long, anyway. And certainly not if Harry ordered him...
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"Mean," Q huffed, rutting harder against Harry as James fucked him harder. "Let me come," he begged Harry, reaching between them to cup the other man through his trousers.
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And then his eyes met Bond's. "You, though. Get him slick for me now."
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"Yes. Sir," he breathed heavily.
Bond's grip on Q's hips slipped down until he felt Harry's trousers. He gripped tight and thrust with intention, groaning as he came. The first shot deep inside, but then he slid free to stripe Q's ass with the rest. He milked himself dry, then stepped away.
"As requested, sir," he said, admiring Q's glossy ass, loose and ready.
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No one had told him to call them sir, and so Q didn't. Instead he made an impatient sound as he rutted even harder against Harry. He could feel Bond's fluids drying on his backside, uncomfortable and a bit sticky as he squirmed.
"Someone let me come," he protested, not shy about being the brat in the face of Bond's good boy persona.
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He looked down at him. "I'm not sure if I'm pleased that you were able to follow my instructions or disappointed that you're being such a demanding little brat," he said, though he sounded amused. "What do you think, James?"
Then he leaned over Q and slid two fingers inside him, feeling how slick he was.
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Then he pulled away and began removing his clothes."
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"And me?" he asked as he treated Harry's clothes like his own.
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"I don't see why I can't have you both," Q said, stretching out on the bed on his back.
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He looked over his shoulder at Bond. "I trust you to take some initiative." Then he settled over Q, kissed him, and slowly slid inside him.
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He put Harry's clothes aside and wandered away to the sink and toilet so he could wash up a bit. He'd been quite generous with the lube. It gave Harry and Q a moment alone, as well.
And Harry wasn't wrong. He did need at least a moment to recover.
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Q gasped as Harry slid inside, moaning into his mouth, but aware of James as he left. Q was always tracking the double-o. It was a habit he couldn't break.
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Though in the meantime he was very distracted by Q. He groaned, delighted by how good it felt. He started to fuck him slowly, mouth moving to his neck, sucking at a spot there.