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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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He snapped Bond’s belt off and dropped it to the ground.
“So discipline him then,” Harry said to Bond, before stepping back.
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"Yes, sir," he replied.
Bond let Q go so he could pick up the belt. He didn't tend to hurt Q without reason...but Harry's command was reason enough. He doubled the fine Italian leather and dragged it over Q's bare shoulders and back.
"This would be easier if he were laying across your lap," he decided.
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Q shivered at the feeling of the belt, wetting his lips with an anxious little flick of his tongue as he tried to look over at Harry. He wasn't against this sort of thing, and he trusted James, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't a bit nervous.
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He moved from behind James, to Q. Pulled him away from Bond, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him deeply. A deep kiss. A hot kiss. A kiss that left his erection straining his trousers.
"Come here, love," he murmured, and sat down on the bed.
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"You know what to do," he told Q, pushing him down over Harry's lap. He gave his ass a light swat with the belt to hurry him along.
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Q let out a little yelp, but did settle in on Harry's lap, positioning himself just so. He could complain all he liked, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was already hard.
"You're so impatient," he huffed to himself, settling in and holding onto Harry's leg so he didn't fall.
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Q was being so obedient...for Q. Bond kept his word to only hurt him for a reason. He dragged the belt up Q's back, then looped it around his neck. He held both ends and kept Q's chin up.
He gave Q the slowest smack, barely enough force to make some sound. He immediately rubbed it away, only to slip his hand between the boffin's thighs to grab his balls.
"Harry's been helping me with patience," he told Q, fingers wrapping all the way around.
Then looked to Harry.
"I won't come," he promised.
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Q made a small sound, the belt forcing him into an awkward position.
"Well then Harry's a saint for dedicating himself to a lost cause," Q said, never shy about being a bit mouthy.
He shifted a bit, relieving some pressure from his neck. Bond might be learning patience, but Q still hadn't mastered being, well, good.
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The sight of Q with the belt around his neck, seeming to enjoy it, sent a shudder of arousal through Harry.
"If he goes before I say he can, you won't be the only one being disciplined tonight," Harry said.
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"Adding incentive?" he challenged Harry, then immediately looked down to Q.
He slicked a finger and began to toy with his ass, sure he'd have Q begging again momentarily.
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Q remained stubbornly silent for as long as he could, before eventually whimpering and crying out softly with want.
"Please," he gasped, rutting against Harry's thighs.
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"Fuck him," he said, his voice rough. "However you like best. You may come. He may not."
"Did you catch that, love?" he asked, and smacked Q's ass lightly. "Will you save it for me?"
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Bond reeled from the kiss and was glad in that moment for the cock ring.
"Yes, sir," he panted.
Without a belt, when he undid his trousers, they fell. He slipped off his pants, as well. His whole groin ached, and it looked like it.
Before touching Q, he moved to a cabinet where he knew there was lube. It gave him a moment to calm down, and another to slip off his restraint.
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"Surely if I do come, it's because Bond couldn't control me properly," he added. "And that would mean he'd be the one who'd need punishing if I did... Correct?"
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Bond unbuttoned his shirt with one hand until it hung open. Harry had told Q to strip, but not him, so he didn't. The open shirt revealed his defined torso and cock. He slicked his cock slowly. When he got close enough, he took hold of Q's arm to get him to rise, only to force him back down to straddle Harry and face him.
"However I like? With pleasure, sir," he said and forced Q forward and Harry back until the boffin was laid out on top of him, his cock trapped against the wool of Harry's suit,.
Bond moved between Harry's knees and began to prepare Q above him.
"Kiss him, Q," he ordered, just before violating him slowly.
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Q let himself be pushed into place, settling on top of Harry and letting out a soft moan against the other man's lips as James slowly pushed his way inside. The moan became a whine as the pressure and stretch grew slightly painful- Only to soften to a groan.
He held onto the front of Harry's shirt, cock hard and trapped between their bodies as he started to rut against him again, the fabric of his suit slightly rough against sensitive skin.
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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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