Mission Day 31 – Heathrow Airport
As they’d arranged, Q met Reynolds outside a lounge at Heathrow. Reynolds greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a fond smile. Q noted Bond shadowing them out of the corner of his eye but gave no hint he’d seen him.
“A couple of notes while we’re traveling together,” said Reynolds as he led Q into the lounge and up to the bar. “I understand that travel can be stressful and tiring. I certainly find it so on a regular basis. You may consider yourself ‘off-duty’ until we have arrived at our destination and are both fed and rested. To the point where pretending you don’t know me and are simply a stranger in the adjacent seat is perfectly acceptable. I do not require you to amuse me or to make an effort to be pleasant or charming. If I become upset, that is not your responsibility to ‘fix’. I am an actual responsible adult and am capable of self-soothing. Understand?”
“Actual, responsible adult,” said Q with a faint smile. “Understood.”
“That’s going to come back to bite me, isn’t it?” asked Reynolds.
Q smirked. “Seems likely.” He watched Reynolds for a moment. “That speech sounds practiced. Given it a time or two?”
Reynolds shrugged. His mobile buzzed a notification which he checked and sighed. “Sorry, one second.” He typed a brief reply.
“We don’t need to act like strangers. You’re much too fun to talk to,” said Q.
“What did I say about pleasant and charming?” asked Reynolds, attention once again on Q.
“No effort, I assure you,” said Q with a smile.
Seated in first class, after beverage service had come around, Q couldn’t control his fidgeting and Reynolds looked up from the report he was reading on his tablet. “What’s got you so unsettled sweetheart? Do you not enjoy flying? You should have said.”
“It’s not that,” said Q. He rested his hand palm up on the console between them. He leaned just slightly toward Reynolds. “It’s just that I have certain associations with these. I haven’t ever worn them for so long without—putting on a show.”
“Ah,” said Reynolds, he gently traced the edge of the cuff where it met Q’s skin just over the pulse point. “You needn’t wear them on the flight. I won’t object if you find it troubling.”
“Didn’t say that,” breathed Q. With a glance around and a twitch of his eyebrows he suggested he was up for any number of activities were Reynolds interested.
Reynolds leaned in. “The mile-high club isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me. And unfortunately, I have some work I want to get finished before we land.”
“If I finish it now, I’m free for the rest of the evening. I prefer that option.” Reynolds continued caressing Q’s wrist. “We’ve never really had time to play with anticipation, have we?” he asked thoughtfully. “You’ve always had somewhere else to be after we saw each other.”
Q shook his head, watching Reynolds intently.
“We’re about ninety minutes out from Warsaw. You can decide how frustrated you want to be when we land. Remove the cuffs and watch a movie, or do whatever you like, short of finishing, so long as no one sees or hears what you’re doing. Understand?”
Q nodded, lips parted, face just barely flushed.
Reynolds lifted his hand away from Q’s wrist. “I’m not going to touch you again until after we’re off the plane.” He smiled slyly. “And just because I touch you, won’t mean you’ll find it satisfying. And I’m not going to tell you how long you might have to wait.”
Q gave him a sultry smile and licked his lips. He took the blanket the flight attendant had given him out of its plastic bag and draped it over himself, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
Reynolds smiled and turned back to his reading.
When the plane landed, Reynolds leaned over to Q. “When we get off the plane, we’re going to find someplace to sit for a moment, and I’ll tell you what we’ll do next. Yes?”
“Yes,” said Q.
“Hungry sweetheart?” asked Reynolds.
A smile played over Q’s lips, “You know I am,” he breathed, “this feels delicious.”
Reynold did know. He’d had, in actuality, very little work to do, and had spent much of the last hour and a half watching as Q surreptitiously touched himself while pretending to nap. He’d enjoyed the subtle expressions playing across Q’s face, the soft changes in his breathing, and minute shifts in his body.
“Trousers done up?” he asked. Q nodded and moved the blanket aside. Reynolds leaned in further and spoke in a quiet voice. “Close your eyes and just breathe for a moment. Take a moment to enjoy what you’ve done to yourself.”
Q did so, eyelids fluttering as he closed them.
“Good,” said Reynolds. “Now, we’re going to get off the plane like perfectly normal people.” He smiled as if they were sharing an enormous secret joke.
As they exited the plane, Reynolds guided Q to a seat near the gate. Q perched in his seat waiting for Reynolds’ next instruction. His cheeks were slightly flushed, the tension of his body not quite hidden, attention completely focused on Reynolds. “Some other time I’d like to keep you like this for hours,” Reynolds said. Q’s breath caught and he nodded reflexively. Reynolds took Q’s hand and caressed the inside of his wrist. “But just now, I have a set of instructions I’d like to give you, they end with a kiss, if you don’t object,” said Reynolds.
“Tell me,” said Q, his eyes were on Reynolds’ face, but his attention was focused entirely on the fingers that traced the cuff he wore, and on his struggle not to shiver in response.
“I’m going to wait here. I want you to go to the men’s and take care of yourself in one of the stalls. I want to taste, so once you’re done, lick your hand clean. Then wash your hands, come back here, and kiss me. Yes?”
“Yes,” said Q.
“Off you go.”
Q knew he should be grateful for the moment of privacy Reynolds’ ‘plan’ afforded him so that he could text Bond assurance that he’d arrived safely. But he resented having to take the time, he was hopelessly aroused and just wanted to follow Reynolds’ instructions. His hands actually shook as he sent Bond a brief message.
He fumbled in his haste to undo his trousers and push clothing out of the way. He imagined himself back at the nightclub with Reynolds, kneeling at his feet, hearing familiar encouragement and praise as he touched himself. It took just a short while to finish, to taste himself and clean up, to return to Reynolds who watched his approach with a knowing smile.
“Delicious indeed,” said Reynolds after Q had kissed him. “Pity I can’t touch you like I usually would. You’re always so lovely after you’ve come,” he purred, rubbing Q’s back. Q could only nod, trying not to succumb to the dazed lassitude that usually accompanied his orgasms for Reynolds. “I’ll give you some time to recover, then we should get to the hotel. We’ll want a meal soon.” Q nodded again, and leaned against Reynolds, resting until instructed to do otherwise while Reynolds held him and murmured soft praise in his ear.
Bond’s flight had touched down a bit earlier than expected, and he’d received Q’s text as he exited the plane. Perfect timing to allow him to shadow Q and Reynolds to the hotel. He checked an arrivals board and made his way to the gate where they’d come in. Q hadn’t included it in his text, which suggested he was distracted or rushed, but Q had also assured him that he could delay the necessary few minutes that would to allow Bond to find and follow them.
He spotted Reynolds, seated, reading something on a tablet, but Q was nowhere in sight. Bond found a corner where he could watch out of Reynolds' view.
After a moment, Q emerged from the men’s room. His expression was soft and at ease. He was utterly focused on Reynolds who looked up as he approached. They shared a slow, passionate kiss and then Q leaned on Reynolds who embraced him and gently rubbed his back. After a few minutes, Reynolds said something and Q looked up, smiling dreamily at him.
Bond felt a pang of jealousy; they looked like lovers. He had to remind himself firmly that he’d seen, rather intimately, what a good actor Q was.
Q and Reynolds exchanged a few words. Q nodded, then they gathered their bags, and headed for the taxi stand.
Bond followed them at a safe distance.