Q

Jun. 9th, 2015 07:43 pm
0_0_7: (Default)
[personal profile] 0_0_7
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.

Date: 2015-06-15 04:57 pm (UTC)
quartermaster_q: (lip lock)
From: [personal profile] quartermaster_q
Already little more than a quivering mess of want and need, Q fell apart beneath Bond.

Crisp words were nothing more than whimpers and pleas, nimble hands trembling and clumsy as he pawed at James and clutched at him weakly.

When he finally came, it was with a meek little sob, his whole body shaking and drained.

Date: 2015-06-15 05:47 pm (UTC)
quartermaster_q: (Default)
From: [personal profile] quartermaster_q

Nodding dumbly, Q curled up against Bond and closed his eyes as he allowed sleep to take him.

It would take more than an alarm to wake him in the morning, and with his eyes shut he was dead to the world.

Custom Text

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags