Work Header

The Video Files

Work Text:

When M closes her file folder after giving Bond the final details of his latest mission, he surprises her by rising from his chair and approaching her desk rather than leaving to go see Q in order to pick up his toys. She stares up at him, brow arched, and waits for him to speak. She finds she’s unable to make even an educated guess as to what he might say, his expression is so odd. It’s almost shy. It's a look she’s never seen on Bond's face, and she has to squelch the tender feeling it gives her.

Bond reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a slim rectangular plastic box which she immediately recognizes as a DVD case. He surprises her even more by actually flushing slightly as he hands it to her, his fingertips touching hers as she takes it from him.

“For your eyes only, ma’am.” He mutters. Then he turns and leaves her office.

For the rest of the day, the DVD taunts her from the drawer where she’s secured it.


It’s several frustrating hours later before M is finally relaxing on her sofa with a glass of bourbon. She eyes the DVD case that’s sitting on the small table in front of her. She’d forced herself to eat, shower and change into her night clothes before even contemplating viewing it. All she can think is that it had better not be another bloody resignation, though why he’d put it on a DVD she can’t imagine.

Deciding to just get it over with, M puts down her drink, picks up the case and pops the DVD out. Getting up, she walks over to her entertainment system, turning on the TV before she slips the disc into the player. For a minute, there is only a view of Bond's living room. She can hear a slow bluesy instrumental playing low in the background. Then Bond walks into the frame, dressed in his usual suit and tie and looking like he just returned from the office himself.

She’s wondering what on earth he’s all about when he speaks. “We both know this mission will take several weeks to wrap up. I thought I’d give you something to think about while I was gone.”

Her eyes widen as his hips begin to sway, rolling the way she imagines they would when he’s fucking one of his conquests. She’s suddenly weak at the knees and she stumbles back to the sofa and sits down, blinking dazedly as Bond loosens his tie and slides it back and forth around his neck before slipping it off and tossing it aside.

The music picks up tempo a little and Bond’s hips make a leisurely circle. A fierce tingle starts between M’s legs. He flicks his jacket buttons open and lets it fall to the floor with a roll of his shoulders. The maneuver makes M want to bite them.

His hands rise, circling his neck before dragging down over his chest to the waist band of his trousers. M catches herself leaning forward, trying to see through his shirt, wondering if his nipples are as hard as hers. He fingers the buttons on his shirt as his body continues to shift with the music.

M gasps when he focuses his gaze straight ahead. She’s torn between staring into his eyes and watching his hands slowly unbutton his shirt. It takes a second for her to notice that he’s speaking again.

“You’re always talking about rules and regulations and you keep me at arm’s length, but no is the one thing you haven’t said. Why not, M? I see the way you look at me. Do you see the way I look at you?”

Dear God she does. It’s impossible not to as much as she tries to ignore it. Whenever they are alone together it feels like he wants to devour her.

Her pussy throbs and she squeezes her legs together trying to deny her need. She shouldn’t touch herself. It’s bad enough that she’s seeing Bond this way. The professional thing to do would be to get up, turn the damn DVD off, and then write up a scathing report on why exposing yourself to, and fraternizing with, your superior is not allowed. She could make Bond read it out loud upon his return.

But she doesn’t get up. She can’t. Bond has shrugged off his shirt and is now fondling his nipples, rubbing and tugging at them as she watches.

“I think about you doing this. I bet you’d pinch them though. Maybe bite them. Make me hurt. Would you like that, M? Christ, don’t you know I’d let you do anything you wanted, as long as you’d just touch me.”

M slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle her whimper even though there’s no one around to hear. She’s getting wet and her own nipples ache. She tries not to think about Bond using his mouth on them and fails miserably. Instantly she knows she’s lost the war she’d been fighting with herself. Even in the depths of her wanting, she’d always been so careful not to conjure any fantasies about what it might be like to be physical with Bond. Now it’s all she can think about.

Damn him. And damn her too.

On the screen, Bond is running his hands up and down the front of his trousers. The bulge strains the cloth and M whines and rocks her hips in synch with him, imaging what it would be like have him inside her. The only thing that keeps her from shoving her fingers between her legs is the desire to see it through to the end without a cloud of lust fogging her senses.

Bond swears as he kicks off his shoes and yanks the front of his trousers open. He’s not even trying to keep time with the music anymore. “Fuck. Want you so bad, M. I know it pisses you off that I sleep around, but it’s your own damn fault. You won’t let me fuck you and fucking my hand got old really fast.”

They both groan when Bond shoves his briefs down. He gets rid of both briefs and trousers with a shimmy that does nothing for M’s composure. Bond steps out of the heap of clothes at his feet and stands gloriously nude and firmly erect for a moment before he curls a hand around his prick.

His head tips back and M watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. She wants to bite him there too. She wants her teeth on his nipples. And maybe even on his balls. It seems he’s not the only one wanting to devour.

Bond is struggling to keep a slow pace, his breathing harsh and loud enhanced as it is by her surround sound. “God. Want to fuck you, M. Fuck you or tongue you. Whatever you want. Anything. Just… Please… Let me touch you.”

He whimpers as his thumb glides over the head of his cock. “Fuck. Please… Would you touch me? I… I think about it all the time. Your hands on me. Would you need both, I wonder?”

M wonders the same. She’s seen a lot of pricks in her time and his is a beauty. He’s just above average in length but makes up for it in width. She’s pretty sure if she did take him in one hand, her fingers wouldn’t reach all the way around. The thought of him stretching her wide makes her pussy gush.

She’s not sure she’s going to make it. If Bond doesn’t finish soon, she’s going to break down and rub herself off. Fortunately, from the way Bond is whining and jerking at his cock, she doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer. Bond strokes his prick at a frantic pace, his hips snapping up into his tight grip.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. God. So close. Want to come all over your tits, M. Or… Fuck. Oh God. Or come on your face."

M is panting nearly as hard as Bond is. She stares as he grasps his cock with his other hand, twisting them around his shaft and then up over his swollen tip. He moans, going up on his toes as if merely thrusting can’t satisfy him.

“Would you let me come in your mouth?” He pleads.

That last is too much and M yanks her night dress up, shoves a hand between her legs, and pushes three fingers inside her pussy, turning them sharply. She tweaks one nipple hard with her other hand and sobs as she grinds down. It isn’t enough. It isn’t Bond’s fingers, or tongue, or prick.

But then Bond is wailing her name, begging her and she cries out for him as she comes.

M slumps back against the sofa, breasts heaving as she pants for breath. She touches her chest with her damp hand, picturing James’ – it has to be James. No longer can she call him Bond in the privacy of her thoughts – come streaked across her bosom. She’s startled by the pulse that results from the mental image. Not so dried up then. She lifts her hand to her mouth and licks her fingers clean while listening to Bond slowly come down from his own climax.

They’re both breathing fairly normally by the time Bond moves in very close. “I’m tired of this keep away game we’ve been playing, M.”

His voice trembles a little. It pleases her to think he’s just as shaken as she is. “Yes or no.”

He touches the screen with the tips of his fingers, smudging it a bit and then gives her a wry smile. “Be seeing you.”

The screen goes black.

Well. He’s definitely given her a lot to think about, the bastard. M picks up the drink she’d neglected and tosses it back in one motion. Then she sits a while before getting up to go to bed.


It’s a couple of weeks into Bond’s mission when M calls Tanner and Moneypenny into her office. The hour is late. They would have left ages ago but she’d asked them to stay behind to assist her on a special project. They’re looking at her expectantly and M hopes that she’s not lost her ability to read people.

Even though everyone else should be gone for the day, M activates the privacy system that darkens the glass partitions of her office and inhibits eavesdropping. Tanner has already locked the door on her suggestion. She breathes deeply before speaking.

“What I am about to say will be in the strictest confidence. If you don’t think you can keep this to yourselves, you can leave and we will forget this meeting ever took place.” She watches as they glance at each other and then back at her.

“Whatever you need, ma’am.”

Moneypenny nods her agreement.

“It concerns Bond and I.” She pauses, unsure how continue. The polite term would be relationship but she doesn’t even know what Bond wants. All he’d talked about was fucking her and she can hardly tell them that. Though considering what she’s about to ask of them – that decides things for her. “We’ve come to an agreement. About sex.”

To their credit neither Tanner nor Moneypenny give any vocal reactions, though Tanner blushes and Moneypenny’s eyes get huge.

“Quite.” M’s lips twitch at their shock. “Before Bond left, he gave me something. I would like to return the favour, as it were. Of course, I could have managed on my own but then the result would have been very boring indeed.”

M gestures to the pair of digital camcorders sitting on the corner of her desk. Her wall monitor is already on but she has yet to cue up the DVD. “If you would do the honors? I’ll leave it up to you what sort of visual techniques you want to employ. I’ll be too busy with – other things – to direct.”

Tanner and Moneypenny stand at the same time, but Moneypenny is the first to take up a camcorder. Tanner eyes his, as though he expects it to leap from the desk and attack him. Moneypenny, however, is excited. She’s busy fiddling with the settings while Tanner dithers.

“Bill.” M says gently. “If you’d rather not.”

“No. No, it’s…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but he does take up the camcorder and then looks at her.

“Whenever you’re ready, ma’am.”

M pushes her chair away from her desk to give them a better view. Moneypenny moves around her desk and takes up a position that will allow her to film close up. She motions to Tanner.

“You should stand over there, that way you can get the screen and her face.”

Tanner stoically does as he’s told.

“Ma’am?” Moneypenny glances at M, before continuing. “I think you should dim the lights. It would make it seem a bit more private – as much as it can be under the circumstances.”

M purses her lips to prevent a full smile from forming. “You’re enjoying this a bit too much, Eve.”

Moneypenny looks startled at the use of her first name, but then she gives M a saucy wink. “What’s not to enjoy?”

Tanner clears his throat. “Ladies, if we could…” He waves, indicating the whole room. His cheeks are bright red.

“Of course, Bill.” Poor man. She makes a mental note to get them both something special. This is definitely above and beyond.

Dimming the lights, M settles back into her chair and starts the DVD. There is no sound. Though she doesn’t doubt their loyalty, the things Bond says are for her. She feels the familiar rush of warmth as James starts to move. She’s watched him so many times it doesn’t take much to get her going.

She cups her breasts through her blouse and pinches her nipples so they stand out starkly against the fabric. She wishes she could speak, could say things to James the way he had to her, but again, that’s private. She moans loudly instead.

She’s vaguely aware of Tanner and Moneypenny but her main focus is James. Christ, she can’t wait for him to get back. She yanks at her top and buttons spill everywhere. She hopes James likes that.

Beneath her blouse she’s wearing a flimsy bra that barely contains her. She pushes her breasts up, squeezing them together. She pictures James fucking them. Her nipples tighten and her pussy clenches.

Her breathing quickens and she opens the clasp of her bra, her fingers trembling in her haste. She tweaks her nipples roughly, whimpering at the thought of making James bite them. When Bond moves his hands from his chest to his waist, she shifts so that she's sitting at the edge of her seat. She wiggles her skirt up and spreads her legs.

She'd taken off her knickers earlier so there's no barrier when she slides her hands over her inner thighs and up to tease herself. She’s already slick and dripping due to having spent the day thinking about doing this. She gasps, and then bites her lip as she rubs gently. It isn’t long before she’s canting her hips and pushing up against her fingers.

Moving one hand back to her chest, she lifts a breast in offering. In her mind’s eye she’s seeing James bending down to suck. She whines, and continues to twist her other hand. She keeps going for a moment, panting hard. Her cries get louder as she rubs herself faster and faster.

Watching James jerk his prick makes her desperate and she lowers her hand from her chest to hold herself open. She visualizes James taking her hard, brushing up against her clit on every push in and every pull out. God, she wants it as bad as he does.

She draws her hand back and then thrusts forward, using four fingers instead of three. Her hips buck and she decides in a haze of longing that she needs to dig out her toy box from where she’d stored it. She’s not going to get through the next few weeks on fingers and vibrators alone.

When Bond starts to come, M flicks her clit with a thumb and shudders through her own orgasm, gasping and shivering as all the tension releases. She has to grip the arms of her chair to keep from sliding to the floor she’s so limp. She moves back up to sit properly, reminding herself that she will need to wipe the chair down before she leaves. She looks up at the camcorder Moneypenny is holding, because she really doesn’t want to give Tanner a heart attack, and very slowly cleans her fingers off with small kittenish licks.

Moneypenny gives her a thumbs up and a wide grin before thumbing her camcorder off and returning it to M’s desk. Tanner is a bit slower, but he does the same, carefully refusing to look at M. They bid her good night and Tanner moves to unlock the door.

M, expecting Moneypenny to follow Tanner, is shocked when her agent touches her chin gently, tilting her head up, then leans down and kisses her. She can hear someone moaning and she smiles into the kiss when she realizes it’s Tanner. M’s fingers are curling by the time Moneypenny pulls away.

“Bond won’t know what hit him, ma’am.” With that, Moneypenny joins Tanner by the door.

The door is just closing behind them when Moneypenny says. “Do you want to come back to my place and solve both our problems?”

M laughs when Tanner splutters and stammers in response.


The next morning, M makes use of the privacy system once more. This time it’s Q she has in her office. She eyes him and keeps her expression stern even though inwardly she’s bloody amused. He looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. She also notes that he’s tenting his pants, despite him having clasped his hands in front of his crotch as soon as he’d given her the DVD.

“Thank you, Q. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that I’m relying on your utmost discretion.”

“Oh! No ma’am. Of course not!”

He’s flustered and his voice is husky. She wonders if he wanked while completing her task and if so, how many times. She could ask, but good Quartermasters are hard to find and the paperwork involved should he keel over would be annoying. She contents herself with being entertained by the thought of Q jerking off because of her.

She dismisses him and turns back to her computer as he rushes out. Slipping in the disc, she calls up her encrypted email program and sends Bond the file – no note. Just a For Your Eyes Only subject heading. She refuses to feel nervous about how it will be received.

She wonders though, how long she’ll have to wait for a reply. If she’ll get a reply. Moscow is only a few hours head but she has no idea if Bond would be more likely to check his mail early morning as it would be now, or in the evening. She puts it out of her mind and gets started with the actual work of her day.

An hour later, she gets an email alert. When she opens the return email, she’s very nearly startled into laughing. Bond has written Jesus Fucking Christ!!! in very large font. Below that, in a more normal print, are the words: Fuck. That’s a yes, right, M? Please? For God’s sake, tell me that’s a yes.

M does not reply.


When M steps into her flat, even before the lights come up, she can tell she is not alone. She looks across the room to Bond and sucks in a breath. He’s clearly come straight from the airport to see her. His persona is still that of his cover. But that isn’t what has her breathing accelerating and her heart pounding. He’s eyeing her like he’s starving and she’s his last meal.

She stills. All the questions she’d wanted to ask him. All the negotiations she’d wanted to make. All of it flies out of her head with that stare. She licks her lips. Everything falls from her hands when Bond gives a low moan.

“Do you have any idea what that video did to me?” His voice rasps and she feels goose bumps rising across her skin.

She tilts her chin up. “Nothing more than what yours did to me, I should think.” She watches as, at his sides, his hands clench into fists. It’s only then that she becomes conscious of the fact that he’s practically vibrating with the need to touch her. It can all wait. She chooses to put them both out of their misery.

“Yes, James. The answer is yes.”

He’s in her personal space before she even has time to take another breath. Then he’s lifting her as though she weighs nothing. She clings to him, arms clutching around his shoulders, breasts mashing against his chest. Her skirt hikes up as she wraps her legs around his hips.

She can feel the hard ridge of his cock through his pants and her knickers as he ruts against her. She wants to tell him to fuck her properly but all she seems capable of doing is gasping his name and then he’s covering her mouth with his and she can’t even do that.

She’s never thought of her mouth as an erogenous zone but the way James kisses makes her revise that opinion. His tongue seems to be everywhere at once – stroking, rubbing. He bites at her lips, before sucking on them and then reverses his actions.

It takes her a goodly amount of will power to yank her head back so that she can stare at him. He looks like a madman, his hair tousled from where she’d been raking her fingers through it, his eyes wild. His hips flex, jabbing his prick against the barrier of their clothes.

“Oh. Oh. Oh, James, please.” She needs that mouth on her. She arches her back, hoping he’s aware enough to take a hint, since she can’t seem to string words together.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” He mumbles. Then he shifts her higher in his arms. This has the disappointing result of taking her out of reach of his cock but she forgives him instantly when he lowers his head and bites one nipple through her blouse.

She’s very glad for soundproofing.

He alternates between her breasts until both nipples are sore and aching wonderfully. Now it’s the ache between her legs that she wants him to attend to. She tugs on his hair to get his attention. He stops but doesn’t raise his head. She can feel him panting against her skin. It makes her nipples harden even more.

“Bed.” She gasps. They need to get to the bedroom otherwise she’s going to make him take her on the floor and that just won’t do. All her supplies are in the bedroom.

Another surge of desire rushes through her when Bond carries her instead of putting her down. She doesn’t understand herself; she’s never liked being manhandled before. She doesn’t get to brood for long because Bond presses her down onto her bed, shoving her blouse and bra up in one move.

She trembles as he cups her, thumbs working her peaked nipples, before he sucks on them again. Each pull of his mouth causes an answering throb lower down and she wiggles her hips, looking for friction. He lifts his head, gaze intent.

“Lube?” As impossible as it seems, Bond’s voice has reached an even deeper register.

Biting her already sore lips, M gestures to the small end table on the right side of the bed. She lifts her hips to help him get her knickers off and her legs fall open as he retrieves the tube. She watches him slick up his fingers; a little amazed that he knows she’d need this, given how moist she feels right now. She relaxes even more when she spots Bond’s hands trembling.

That is until he touches her, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the outer folds of her body. She grips her sheets and spreads her legs wider. “Don’t tease, James.” She begs. “Six weeks is enough teasing. Please. I need you.”

“Christ.” Bond whispers.

He changes his touch then, fingering her quickly while applying the lube. It’s so much more than she’d imagined. His fingers are long and broad and they reach spots that make her grunt with pleasure. They swear together when she bears down on his hand.

“Fuck. M. Fuck. Can I? Christ, please.”

She turns her head to the side to look at him. He’s sitting by her hip, fingers of one hand pressed inside her cunt, the other clutching at his clothed prick. There’s a huge damp spot where the head of his prick is jerking against the front of his trousers.

“God, yes please, James.”

She reaches for him but finds herself almost upended when Bond surges over her, his knees pushing her legs even further apart. He tugs at the button on his trousers and yanks the zipper down. He hisses as it chafes against his prick but then he’s pulling his briefs below his balls.

When the wet tip nudges her pussy, M expects a slow grind. What she gets is a rapid jab that impales her.

“James!” Her fingernails dig into the meat of Bond’s shoulders and her thighs grip his hips in reflex. There’s no time to adjust. Bond fucks her frenziedly, as if he doesn't expect to get a second chance. He’s forcing her up the bed with each thrust and she ends up letting go of his shoulders in order to keep herself from being rammed into the headboard.

She can’t remember the last time she’s had such a good seeing to. Her pussy is stretched, stuffed full. James’ prick is pressed tight against her clit and every motion makes her see stars. She wishes she could reciprocate but she can’t keep up with James’ wild plunges. All she can do is take it.

He doesn’t seem to need it though. His arms are braced and he’s staring avidly at her chest, watching her breasts jiggle up and down. He’s making the most deliciously needy little sounds that make her tighten around him. His face screws up at that and his hips stutter.

“Fuck. I…Oh… Oh Christ. Sorrysorrysorry.”

He shudders, arms shaking. M whimpers as he swells inside her. His hips make several short quick jabs before he stills. Sixty seconds has to be a record for Bond and she hasn’t come which – if the rumour mill can be believed – is another record but instead of making her angry, it’s thrilling that he wants he so much.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” Bond is still breathing heavily. He’s shamefaced with the realization that he’s come and she hasn’t.

Reaching up, M smoothes his damp hair away from his brow. “It’s alright, James. Why don’t you make it up to me?”

She wonders if she’ll have to make it an order. She hasn’t met many men willing to taste their own come. Bond, however, surprises her by flashing her a grateful look. He eases out of her body, and then moves further down on the bed before ducking between her legs. Her only warning is fingers holding her open.

“Bloody fucking Christ!”

She shoves her pussy down onto Bond’s mouth, keening as his tongue works inside, cleaning her out. She’s sensitive from being battered by his prick so it doesn’t take him long to bring her off. Her thighs clamp around his head as she shrieks.


M wakes with Bond a warm solid weight at her back and his arm holding her tightly against his chest. She’s just wondering if he’s awake or asleep when a gravelly voice greets her.

“Good morning, M.”

His sleep roughened tone makes her tremble and she has to clear her throat before she can speak. “Good morning, James.”

He edges away from her so that she can lie flat and then props himself up next to her. “Are you okay? I..” He reddens. “I was rather rough with you.”

Smiling, M tangles her fingers in his hair, trying to flatten it. It’s the most ridiculous bedhead she’s ever seen. It’ll be a shame to send him off to the barber to get the traditional cut. “I’m not a porcelain doll, James. I won’t break.”

Bond touches her face, tracing her smile. “No, I don’t suppose you will. Still, I had all these grand plans. I was going to properly woo you.”

M snorts.

“I was! I was determined to take it slow. I know what you think of me. But then you sent me that damn video file. Christ. I bloody well nearly sprained my wrist from all the wanking. It’s all I could think about. I’m sorry. This was supposed to be about more than sex.”

M covers the hand on her face with her own. “Is that what you really want? Your video did make me wonder.”

Bond grins. “Well, naturally, I do want the sex, but yes, I want everything.” He stares at her seriously. “Will it help if I tell you I was horribly jealous of your husband? That he got to come home to you.”

As M peers up at him, she can see something like guilt lurking in his eyes. For a moment, she thinks it’s about his jealousy and then her eyes widens. She smacks his cheek lightly. “James! Tell me you weren’t stalking my husband and I.”

“I was curious!”


M huffs a bit, then sighs. “You understand that this can’t change anything at work, right?”

“Of course. I don’t expect it to. I just want… I’m tired of going home alone. Why do you think I spend so much time in your flat? It’s where you are.”

That’s the soppiest, most stupidly romantic thing anyone has ever said to her. She really should shove him out of bed for violating her ears with it. Instead, she tugs his head down and gives him a proper good morning.