Q had insisted, after weeks of fancy dinners and hotel suites and drinking in clubs he wanted to eat something simple in his flat and have a quiet evening. Bond offered to pick up takeaway.
“I’ll make a pot of coffee, and we can do the work bit of the evening” said Bond after they'd finished supper and lounged in bed for a bit. He looked through Q’s cupboards. “Do you have anything to eat beside stale bread and canned beans?”
“I think there may be some eggs but not much else. Haven’t had much opportunity for shopping and rent-boys can’t afford delivery service.” He looked at his mobile. “Bugger.”
“It appears Reynolds is lonely; he’s back in the country and wants to know if Jack is free.”
“Pity you can’t have him come here and make him sit down with me.”
Q nodded. “You need to have a private conversation with him at some point. This could be your chance.”
“But he won’t talk to me with you in the room,” said Bond.
“No, I think we can do this.” Q said thoughtfully. “I took something, you’re not sure what, just after you arrived. We had a wonderful time, but at some point, you excused yourself for a bit. That would be when Reynolds’ text arrived. Jack’s high as a kite, decided the more the merrier and invited Reynolds over.
“Then I passed out on the couch. You’ve paid for the night, so you were planning on waking me—or not—once you could get it up again.”
Bond nodded thoughtfully, “I can work with that.”
Q sent Reynolds an enthusiastic invitation. Reynolds promised to arrive shortly.
Q removed his pajama pants, tossed them into the bedroom, and walked naked into the living room. He stood next to the sofa for a moment and then let himself collapse onto his stomach, one arm dangling, letting his head droop and mouth fall open slightly. He looked like a puppet with its strings cut. After a moment, he opened an eye to look at Bond. “I’m hoping you’re enough of a gentleman to throw a blanket over me,” he hinted.
Bond reached over to pull the blanket from the back of the couch. “May I spank you first?”
“What?” asked Q, startled.
“I bet he’s the type who, if he sees you naked and unconscious, will pull the blanket off to get a peek. It’s…ah… obvious I’ve fucked you, but I need you to look used. It will fit my cover.”
Q gave Bond a sidelong look. “I don’t do pain,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” said Bond with an encouraging smile, “You were so high you didn’t feel a thing.”
“Bollocks,” muttered Q, but he didn’t object. He yelped as Bond slapped his arse. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth through a few more slaps, tears beginning to form, then yelped again when Bond bit his shoulder, hard.
“Just leaving a few marks,” he murmured, messing up Q’s hair a bit more. “You did so well just now. You look perfectly debauched.”
“Stop that,” Q gasped as Bond sucked marks onto his shoulders, “If I’m out of breath he won’t believe I’m unconscious.”
Bond crouched next to Q. “You’re beautiful when you cry,” he whispered, wiping Q’s eyes with his handkerchief. Then he stood and draped the blanket, careful to leave the livid bite mark on Q’s shoulder exposed.
Q went limp and let his breathing grow slow and even. Bond went back into the kitchen, where the coffee was nearly ready. He’d had a minute or so to take his first sips when there was a knock at the door.
Bond pretended to be surprised to see Reynolds, who seemed genuinely surprised to see Bond. “Ah. I didn’t realize he was already occupied tonight. I’ll see him another time.”
“You might as well come in, we should talk, and he’s—unavailable—for the moment.” Bond drawled and gestured with his cup to where Q had collapsed.
“I suppose we have some things to discuss, don’t we?” Reynolds entered the flat and walked toward Q. “You exhausted him this early? Or did he pass out?”
“Not quite,” Bond laughed. “I gave him some pills he likes. We had some fun, but he’ll be out for another hour or so.”
“And if you want him again before that?” asked Reynolds neutrally, pulling the blanket away just as Bond had predicted.
“He knows I might—It’s part of what I’ve paid for. And, well, I’d assumed I’d arranged for the entire night,” said Bond pointedly.
“I’m sure you did, don’t blame the boy,” said Reynolds continuing to watch Q, “I just got back into town and thought I’d surprise him.”
Bond tilted his head. “Surprising a whore is a good way to get yourself stabbed,” he observed. “I just made some coffee; would you like a cup?”
When Bond returned from the tiny kitchen with a second cup of coffee, Reynolds was still holding the blanket and staring at Q. “If you’ve seen one cheap piece of arse you’ve seen them all, what’s so fascinating Reynolds?”
“I understood he didn’t like pain…” said Reynolds, unconsciously moving closer to Q.
“Ah, ah,” said Bond, a hint of warning in his voice, and Reynolds stepped back. “I’ll thank you to remember that he’s mine for the night.” He handed Reynolds a cup and took the blanket from him. “And he was feeling no pain earlier. I assure you.” He set his coffee down on a side table and spread the blanket back over Q.
“Is he really—out?” asked Reynolds, “What we have to discuss shouldn’t be overheard.”
“He’s out. Watch.” Bond grabbed a handful of Q’s hair and lifted his head a fraction of an inch off the couch, then dropped him. Q didn’t twitch.
“Reynolds, focus,” said Bond. “If he’s going to distract you this badly, I’ll toss him in the bedroom and we can talk without the scenery.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Reynolds, he lifted the mug to take a sip of coffee, then realized he hadn’t seen Bond prepare it. They locked eyes for a moment.
“It’s just coffee,” Bond reassured him. “I have plans for the rest of my evening, which don’t involve drugging you.”
Reynolds nodded and took a sip. “Fair enough. But you are going to have to move him you know,” he gestured around the small flat. “There’s nowhere else to sit.”
“Hmm,” agreed Bond, and looked at Q for a moment. “Up you come pretty boy,” he said, moving Q so Bond could sit on one end of the couch and then pulling him into his lap. Q made a small, drowsy sound of protest, but didn’t move or react further. Once Q was settled, leaning back against Bond’s chest, limbs sprawled like a doll, Bond re-draped the blanket around them, not bothering to hide from Reynolds that he had one hand between Q’s legs.
“So, Mr. Bond, I understand you are looking for some—difficult to acquire items.”
“Yes, and I understand, Mr. Reynolds, that you have some contacts that can assist me with this dilemma.”
They spoke for nearly an hour, plotting and planning. Reynolds revealed bits and pieces of intel as Bond skillfully drew him out, building trust and the hope of an impressive profit if Reynolds played the game as Bond needed him to. At the same time, Bond sipped his coffee with one hand, and fondled Q with the other. Reynolds watched intently.
As the conversation was winding down, Q moaned softly and stirred in Bond’s arms. “Time to wrap this up,” said Bond looking down. “Contact me the day after tomorrow once you’ve arranged things with your people?”
“I’ll do that,” said Reynolds. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“No problem,” said Bond. “Do you mind letting yourself out? My hands are rather full at the moment.” He looked down at Q. “Time to wake up pretty boy.”
“Certainly. I hope you have a pleasant evening, Mr. Bond.”
Q moaned again and nuzzled closer to Bond. “I have no doubt it will be, Mr. Reynolds,” Bond said with a smile.
“So it would seem,” said Reynolds and he let himself out.
When he’d pulled Q into his lap after Reynolds had arrived, Bond had felt the tension in Q’s body as he feigned unconsciousness. It had taken long minutes for Q to slowly relax. Bond wasn’t surprised. Q became tense and agitated just talking about Reynolds.
As Bond had touched him, Q had occasionally used a small motion, hidden by the blanket, to get Bond to slow down or back off. Bond had ignored the signal when he was ready for Reynolds to leave, allowing genuine cracks in Q’s self-control to appear to be ‘Jack’ slowly regaining consciousness.
Q opened his eyes. Bond held a finger to his lips then pulled out his phone to check the app that was tracking Reynolds. Q nodded. They waited until Reynolds was several blocks away.
“And now,” said Q, “you either need to move your hand, or move your hand.”
“Preference quartermaster?” asked Bond with a smile, leaving his hand where it was.
“If you can’t tell, I’ll see to it myself…” began Q tartly, then the words cutoff and his body tensed helplessly as Bond shifted his grip and he came.
“That was quick,” chuckled Bond as Q shuddered against him panting.
“You’ve been toying with me for nearly an hour. That was not quick.”
“Your self-control is impressive. And I know you enjoyed it.”
Q groaned, “It felt like you had drugged me, I could barely think.”
Bond looked smug. “I do relish having that effect on you when I can manage it. Next time I’ll hide a bottle of lube in the couch cushions first, so I can get my fingers in you.”
“Oh fuck, please.” Q shifted to straddle Bond’s lap and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You’re overdressed and I want your cock in me. My mouth or my arse, I don’t care which.”
“Then let me take you to bed and I’ll decide while you undress me.”
Once they got to the bedroom. Q didn’t give Bond a chance to decide. As soon as Bond’s trousers were undone, Q knelt by the bed and took his cock into his mouth. Bond sat down, closed his eyes, and simply appreciated the gift. “Fuck, you’re good at that.”
Eventually, Bond groaned and put a hand in Q’s hair, pulling him back. “Want you up here,” he said. Q allowed Bond to guide him onto the bed and onto his back.
Bond intended to finish breaking Q’s self-control and discovered there was no need. Q was desperate and needy and responsive. He kept his eyes closed and spoke only once, an emphatic “Yes.” when Bond slid inside him.
Sometime later, Bond asked, “What would you have done if he wanted to see you while you were alone? Or just showed up?”
Q shrugged, “First of all, it is rather more difficult than you might think to surprise the quartermaster of MI6 in a space he lives in.”
“I’m aware. I’ve attempted it a time or two. And second?”
“And second, he just wants to fuck me, he doesn’t want to hurt me.”
“He was fascinated by the sight of you unconscious. Now that we’ve put the idea in his head, he may try to drug you.”
“Then let’s hope he doesn’t get the opportunity. With the information you got from him tonight, and the additional contacts and intel you’ll have in two days, we could have this wrapped up in a fortnight.”
“Q. You realize you have just guaranteed that sometime in the next fortnight, he’s almost certainly going to drug you. I’ll find you unconscious in the back of that nightclub he likes so much, in a seedy motel somewhere, or, quite possibly, in the boot of Reynolds’ Mercedes.”
“And when you do, I will allow one ‘I told you so’,” quipped Q.
“Thank you for taking this so seriously Q,” said Bond dryly.
“Bond. I’m not a fool. Between us, we may have just given him some terrible ideas.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’m going to take all of that seriously.”
“What would you have done if he surprised you while you were alone?”
Q looked Bond in the eye. “I would have let him in,” he said. “I would have quoted him a price. I would have done what he asked.”
“I want you to stay at the hotel tomorrow night.”
“Of course you do.”