Q
There are men in the world who prey on boys and girls, who capture them and take them and thos innocents become slaves. These walking piles of shit and money can get away with it because of names and titles, because of cash and reputation. And to serve them there are slavers. Oh, in this modern age they've been sanitized to 'traffickers' but it doesn't change what they are.
Once, years ago, a boy with red hair and mismatched eyes brought a fair price. Not that Bond knew that. But the man at the other end of the club in the black shirt with the hidden gun, he knew. He was watching the same man the double-o was.
Bond and Q had come together mostly because Q was the kind who could get them in and Bond was the kind who'd follow along as the boffin's musle. It wasn't uncommon. The club was a headphone club and they were issued pairs to plug into receivers. That way the crowd could dance to the same music without the neighbors complaining of any heavy bass.
But before dancing Bond took Q to get a drink.
"See him?" he asked.
Once, years ago, a boy with red hair and mismatched eyes brought a fair price. Not that Bond knew that. But the man at the other end of the club in the black shirt with the hidden gun, he knew. He was watching the same man the double-o was.
Bond and Q had come together mostly because Q was the kind who could get them in and Bond was the kind who'd follow along as the boffin's musle. It wasn't uncommon. The club was a headphone club and they were issued pairs to plug into receivers. That way the crowd could dance to the same music without the neighbors complaining of any heavy bass.
But before dancing Bond took Q to get a drink.
"See him?" he asked.
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"You did good work Bond. Even if we had a false lead, you were remarkable," Q said, tracing the line of the double-o's jaw with his thumb.
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"I really thought they were going to take you," he admitted softly.
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"I love you," he moaned. "God, James- I love you more than I realized I was able to love anyone."
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Shedding his pyjama top, Q never stopped pawing and pulling at James, desperate to keep him close.
"Please," he murmured.
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Bond peeled off his own and tossed it. His muscles bunched as he grabbed Q and picked him up to carry him to the bed. Then he laid the man down and crawled into him. Broad hands pushed on his chest to keep him in place.
"Tell me again that you love me," he demanded.
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It was utterly unfair the power Q's voice had over him. Bond melted, kissing his chest and the sharp line of his collarbones. He reached for one wrist and gave it a squeeze, but then rather than overpower Q he slid his hand up and laced their fingers together.
"You are my whole world, Q. I need you more than air or water. I love you."
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"You're so very good to me, Bond. If I were to be bought and sold, I'd want to be sold to you," he said, reaching with his free hand to rake his fingers though Bond's hair.
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"I'd spend my entire fortune to have you," he replied, tasting Q's mouth once again. He slowly sank, falling to the side to lay with his arm and leg draped over the other man.
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"You make my life worth something, double-o seven," he said, the words spoken so softly that they were barely even a whisper.
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But Q loved him and that changed everything.
He turned to kiss the secret away again, tasting the truth of it.
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He wasn't meek at all. He was certain that even at his lowest, that had never been the case.
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"God, yes," he exhaled, pulling Q tight to his chest and arching against him. He felt the tension within him from the day's failure begin to let go as he turned the energy on Q.
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"I need you. I love you," he babbled.
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"I want you to ride me. I want to watch you," he said, ducking in to bite Q's shoulder and suck a mark.
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"And here I thought the whole point of wooing a double-o was to lay back and let them do the work," he muttered, reaching for his bag to retrieve the small tube of lubricant he'd taken to travelling with. It had made its way to the bottom, but he found it easily enough.
Settling on his knees, he prepared himself discreetly. He was a touch bashful about it, actually. His head ducked and cheeks faintly pink.
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He was all sharp lines and edges, angular and pointy looking, even as he ducked low and dragged his tongue up the underside of Bond's cock.
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His eyes fluttered shut, letting the man's cock hit the back of his throat before starting gently bob and suck.
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A faint smirk played on his lips, and he shifted so he was just out of reach.
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