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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"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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"Christ, Q, please," he begged, not above pleading for it. Anyone else he would have been stoic but with Q he was helpless.
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He turned his back on the man briefly, offering a good view of his bum as he turned on some music and sipped his drink.
He was teasing the man- Taunting him, even. It was a dangerous game to play with someone like Bond, but Q had always liked a little danger. He liked feeling as though he was dancing a bit close to the edge, without ever going over.
"Do you want a glass?" he offered.
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"I'll drink yours," he said, plucking the flute from Q's hand.
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He sipped the champagne but at the same time he thrust forward, his cock seated in the crack of Q's arse, nestled perfectly.
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"You're so impatient," he tutted playfully.
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"Ignore it. It's just M, I'm sure. You can call him later- I need you now," Q purred.
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Bond put the bubbly down and instead took hold of Q's cock in his hand.
"He'll just keep calling," he said, stroking the man slowly.
Despite Bond's declaration of devotion, of love, his pledges and vows, Queen and country came before Q and he let the man go to check his phone. He looked at the display and swiped to answer.
"Bond."
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One day he was going to find a way to secretly block calls from the office to ensure an uninterrupted night.
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"Yes, sir," he said. "Of course." And he ended the call and came back to bed, afraid he'd find Q had wanked and went to sleep.
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Q hadn't, but he was looking a touch sulky as he lay curled up on his side.
"What did M say?" he asked.
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"And that he's had a talk with the head of the CIA about their former operatives hobbies," he added. "Apparently Tony's been using resources he shouldn't have access to anymore."
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"He's doing the right thing though," Q replied. "You can't say his heart isn't in the right place."
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"You do good work too you know," he murmured.
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"But where were we before the phone rang?" he murmured.
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