Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We aren’t exclusive, right?” Alec asks Q one day, apropos of nothing. 

Q silently wonders at the patent absurdity of the question.

“Alec, I have at least two other lovers you know personally. What kind of stupid question is this?” 

 “Very,” Alec acknowledges with a nod, his mouth curved into a smile at Q’s exasperation. “But I want to clarify anyway.”

“Why is that?”

Now, Alec’s facial expression suggests that Q himself isn't being quite intelligent. A gasp escapes Q’s lips when understanding dawns on him after several seconds.

“Oh, Jesus. Have you found somebody?”

“I think so,” Alec’s green eyes are twinkling with mischief. Q immediately knows it must be a man - there is no chance in hell Trevelyan would be so elated about a woman after all Q has done to him.

“Do I know him?” He demands.

“No,” Alec shakes his head with a response.

“Civilian?”

“More or less? The guy was an informant in Syria for quite some time. Six pulled him out.”

“Now we can swap!” Q cackles, giddy from delight.

“I won’t let Bond fuck him.”

“Oh, but what about me? I can fuck your boy just fine. You can have Bond.”

“Q. For that, at least five double-dates are needed.”

“Yikes.”

Q scrunches his nose and gets a kiss on the forehead on top of his trouble. Alec looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. It used to be unsettling, but Q has learned to tolerate it. Alec Trevelyan is a weirdo.

“And I wouldn't entrust him to you either. You can be vicious.”

“Depends on a boy. I don’t ravage sweet little things as I do it with you. If they don’t ask me for it, of course.”

“Shit. You’re on it already, aren’t you?”

 “Hmm. It’s a nice fantasy,” Q stretches and rolls over to lie on his stomach, propping his chin on his hand. They’ve just had sex, and Q feels soft and tame in post-orgasmic buzz. No doubt the choice of the moment for such talk is deliberate. Q peers at Alec out of the corner of his eye. A wide grin plastered on Trevelyan’s face makes him look daffy, and Q has to bite the inside of his lip to keep his expression in check. 

“What are you doing with them then?”

“That’s a fantasy for you,” Q grins and pinches Alec’s thigh. “You’re welcome.”

“I won’t fuck you anymore, do you understand?”

“Ah. You two want to go exclusive, then?” Q shrugs. He’s never hoped to keep Alec to himself. It’ll be good for him to go beyond Q’s or Bond’s bed. “That’s unfortunate, but it’s alright. Whatever fits you.”

***

Q isn’t interested in meeting Alec's new boyfriend if he doesn’t get a good bit of fun out of it, but Alec drags the guy with him to Bond’s once, and Q just happens to be there, too. He’s still in bed, sleeping off the hangover and sore from how brutal Bond was with him the last night when he hears – the doorbell, Alec’s voice, then the one he doesn’t recognise – soft and as if reluctant, every other “r” rolling gently. Q intuits that it must be that boyfriend of Alec’s and is curious despite himself.  

“Morning,” Q mumbles, presenting himself in the living room, wrapped in a diminutive silk robe. He can’t be arsed to dress up more than that, and the thing conceals all his cuts and bruises well enough. There’s only one on his neck that is starkly visible.

“Oh, good. I thought you’d sleep into the evening. Coffee?” Bond starts to get up, but Q stops him, raising his palm.

“I could have done that. Sit. I’ll manage,” Q slides his eyes briefly to the visitors. “Hi Alec,” he says, ignoring a scandalised look from a swarthy, lanky boy at Alec’s side.

He returns with his mug full of black scalding coffee, and the three of them talk about bloody weather – the boy (the man, really, he can’t be much younger than Q) shares how different it is from Aleppo. Obviously. For God’s sake. 

Q winces inwardly from the name of the town. Poor sod, this boy.

He comes to stand before him and offers a hand. The guy looks up at him with surprise, stops slumping against Alec’s side, and shakes it. He regards the bruise on Q’s neck for a moment before making eye contact.

“Freddy,” Q introduces himself. “I’m a bit of an arse before the first sip,” he says in the way of apology. While alone in the kitchen, he decided to play mildly nice and see what it could get him.

“After, too. But after he at least can make an effort,” Alec pipes in. His smirk is a bit too fond, but the guy either doesn’t notice, ignores it, or is aware of the reason for such fondness.

“Shut up,” Q huffs.

“I’m Rahim. Nice to meet you. Alec talks about you all the time.”

“Is he now?” Q just barely suppresses a laugh.

“Not literally.”

“I hope not. Bet you’d have been terribly annoyed then,” Q jokes, kind of. The guy – Rahim – smiles at him brightly, and only then does he let go of Q’s hand. He has braces. Braces . Q wonders if they’re a bit of a nuisance when giving heads as he goes to climb on Bond’s lap. He stretches his legs over the arm of the chair, and Bond’s hand lands on his hip. He presses his thumb above Q’s hipbone – and Q feels wetness. The cut still seeps blood. Q squirms and looks at Bond sharply while gulping from the mug. The black silk will conceal the red of the blood, but it won’t hide his hard-on. Bond has his exhibitionistic tendencies, though he likes to watch much more. Q has nothing against Bond indulging in them, so in the end, he smirks, which is as good as permission. All the silent communication takes them several seconds. Bond proceeds to caress his side idly.

“Please continue. I’m as good as sleeping.” He says, leaning his temple on Bond’s shoulder.

They continue their dead-boring talk. Weather, food, museums.    

Bond’s hand moves along Q’s side, down the thigh, on the stomach – naughty fingers snake under the lapel of the robe briefly. Bond knows all the little sores he left on Q’s body, and he presses into each one of them. Q makes sure to exhale a bit more audibly when Bond finds a spot that hurts particularly nice.  

Theatre, clubs, the chalk cliffs. Weather again.

Q feels Bond’s hard-on against his thigh. His, he hides by crossing his legs and trapping it in between them. 

“Where do you live?” Q asks when there’s a brief lull in the conversation. He blinks his eyes open and looks at the guy. 

Alec’s hand is on his nape, fingers playing his fine hair there. Alec likes to do it when deep in his thoughts. It means he pays no mind to the conversation. Q looks at Alec.  

Alec stares right at him. He clearly knows how many hard-ons are there in the room and is stuck between annoyed and amused.

“With Alec, I suppose,” Rahim answers with the most timid smile. “Before that, in Camden.”

“Oh, maybe now he’ll buy a fucking bed,” Q laughs and winks at Alec. Wink is not about the bed; it’s about hard-ons, but boy doesn’t know that.

“He did already,” Rahim remarks, and the dark blush dusts his cheekbones.

“Freddy,” Alec says, tone reprehensive. “Don’t be so shameless.”

It’s also not about what Q said.

“Can’t. It’s boring otherwise.”

Eventually, Bond’s visitors move to go.

“We’ll find our way,” Alec assures, but now, when Q is having fun, why would he stop?  

“Nonsense,” he counters and stands. Bond decides to stay seated.

Q’s erection isn’t starkly visible, but it’s not very hard to detect, either. He trails behind Alec and Rahim, Alec’s hand on the small of the boy's back.  

“What do you think about meeting for dinner?” Alec asks, turning to Q.

“If it’s fish and chips, then fine. And if we’ll have… three hours before it.”

“Three?”

“Three. Believe me,” Q lets his lip curl in a saucy smile. “I’ll need a long shower to scrub off all the filth.”

When he hugs Alec goodbye, he makes sure to lean close against him. Alec huffs into his ear and pats his butt gently. To his boy, Q extends a hand. They shake it.

“See you in the evening, mister Bond!” Rahim calls, and with that, they’re gone.

“ Mister Bond? Really?” Q asks, re-entering the room. He discards the robe and sits astride Bond’s thigh. “Tease. Exhibitionist,” he murmurs between bites at Bond's lips.

“Alec got it.”

“Of course he did. The boy didn’t.”

“I think he did too.”

“Oh really?”

Q tugs at James’ waistband mutely until the man gets the hint and frees his cock. Q reaches his arm behind to align it with his hole - his arse needs a bit of rest, but thanks to this bastard of a boyfriend, Q’s in a state. He eases himself down with a sigh.   

“Sore?” Bond chuckles at Q’s wince. 

“Sure. How many times did you fuck me yesterday?”

Q starts to move anyway. Up, down. His hips burn, but Bond cups his hands under his buttocks and helps.

“Four.”

“Four?! Gosh,” Q was very drunk. The recollection of the first two is vivid in Q’s memory - the cuts on the inside of his thighs. The knife’s blade slipping over his balls, along the taint and hole. The handle of the same knife pushing inside. Q sucks his lower lip in while his body clenches in a shudder at the memory. 

Bond looks up at him with a smug expression. It’s well-deserved this time.

“Tell me about the last two,” Q requests. 

“Third was with that dildo you hid in my pants’ drawer. And just my fingers the last time. You practically forced me into it and fell asleep with three of my fingers up inside your arse.”

Q chuckles. He remembers dildo - vaguely. It was vibrating. 

They fall silent. There’s just heavy panting until Q starts to feel the heat in his groin, and then there are small, weak moans. Q tries to go faster, but Bond doesn’t let him. He fucks him into a long, shaky, languid orgasm.

“Not yet?” Q asks just as his muscles stop their sweet twitching.

“No,” Bond laughs. “You squeezed it all out of me last night.”

“I’m impressed you can keep it up. Mild exhibitionism does wonders?”

“No, it’s just you, darling.”

Q rolls his eyes in answer to James' smitten smile. He has to make an effort in order not to smile back.

“Tell you what. Let's leave it for now, and I'll suck you off in the loo in the middle of that horrible dinner I agreed on?”

Bond licks his lips quickly. He's pleased with the idea.

“Sounds splendid.”

“Nice.” 

Bond tags along with Q in the shower. After, while Q is busy conquering his hair, Bond checks his cuts and smoothes some ointment over his hole. Q allows all the fussing because Bond has been very good lately.  

“What do you think of the boy?” Q inquires.

“I think he plays the idiot.”

“Run the check on him?”

Bond must have. He’s far too nosy to refrain from it.

“He’s clean. They wouldn’t let them into the country otherwise, anyway.”

“I’ll dig deeper,” Q decides.

 “So protective.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I fear it’s awfully hard.”  

Q smacks him half-heartedly just because inaction would be as good as encouragement for his merry insolence.  

They clean up and go to meet Alec and his new boyfriend. Turns out they were in the Victoria and Albert Museum.

“God, guys. It’s just too gay,” Q can’t hold back. Rahim looks indignant. Alec chuckles. 

Q devours his portion of chips, starts on Bond’s, and picks at the fish just a bit before excusing himself.

The loo is just a small room with the door that locks. Q leaves it unlocked, leans to the wall beside the sink and waits.

Bond slips in in less than three minutes and stands in front of Q.

“Alec made eyes at me.”

Q grins and lets his knees buckle, sliding down the wall. Bond extends his hand to the door to lock it, but he’s stopped by Q’s tutting.

“And what fun is it if the door is locked?”

“Dagny, dear,” James rumbles. “You’ll get us arrested.”

“Means we’ll have some fun and escape this awful dinner. Plus, it turns you on, the risk of being caught with cock up my throat.” 

He’s trapped in between the tiled wall and Bond’s body, with no chance of escape or even minimal control without the use of violence. If Bond is aroused by the fact they're in public, Q is turned on by this. He looks up at Bond and parts his lips with one last deep breath.

Bond does his part well. First, he fucks Q’s mouth but then yanks at his hair, forcing Q to move.

“Don’t be lazy,” he grumbles, a bit out of breath. Q sends him a glare but adjusts his balance and starts working his head back and forth. Bond doesn’t stop swaying his hips, and additional momentum drives his cock to Q’s throat.

Q doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like to have cock in his mouth in general, he doesn’t like to feel it in his throat. The appeal of the act that is happening is that Bond knows it and forces his dick into Q’s throat anyway. That he won’t stop until Q’s mouth gets him to climax, no matter what, even if Q will fight back.

It makes Q incandescently hot.

“Shit,” Bond grits out, with a particularly vicious push that has Q making a gurgling sound that’s meant to express his outrage. Bond only sneers down at him, “Aren’t you a treasure?”  

Bond lets him breathe for a brief moment and puts his dick back again. It takes excruciatingly long. Q’s throat is hurting.

“Okay. Open up. Tongue out.”

Bond cushions the glans on Q’s tongue between his lips and jerks himself off roughly, gleaming eyes looking down at Q, lower lip caught between his teeth. Q looks up at him with a challenge.

When Bond’s cock starts to spur come into Q’s mouth, his eyes fall shut, and he groans. Q sucks at the hot, firm head, teases the tender slit with the tip of his tongue, and slumps against the wall again.

For five seconds, they just grin at each other. Just as Bond starts to tuck his softening organ back into his pants, the door flies open.

Q turns his head lazily, rolling the come around the tongue. In the doorway is a woman around fifty. She looks at Q, at Bond’s middle where he’s pulling up the zip, at Q again, and slams the door shut.

Bond grins at Q. Q presses his hand to his lips because he can’t quite laugh with his mouth full of Bond’s jizz.

Bond bunches the front of Q's shirt in his fist and yanks Q up. Q has no choice but to legs under himself with yet another glare at Bond.

Q leans over the sink and spits, turning the tap on. He swishes water around his mouth, looking in the mirror at Bond, who decided to take a leak.

He spits the water and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Really, Bond. Can't it wait?”

“ Now   you’re squeamish?”

“One day, I’ll make you stand under my piss just out of spite, really,” he threatens. 

Bond laughs as he pushes Q aside from the sink to wash his hands.

***

Q’s search is fruitful.

Alec hasn't just met Rahim somewhere in the midst of Soho. He’s basically assigned to the guy as his protective detail. Rahim is the son of one of Assad’s generals, and he smuggled out a lot of sensitive information through the years. The risk that there will be an attempt to kill him is pretty high.

Q’s first impulse is to confront Alec. But then he changes his mind – Alec won’t tell him anything new. It’s not uncommon – especially with Double-Ohs who love, love, love to mix business and pleasure. 

Instead of Alec, he confronts Rahim himself when the opportunity presents itself, and they are left alone in the room.

“So, tell me. Are you sure you’re gay?”

The look of polite interest on Rahim’s delicate face morphs into a slight scowl of puzzlement.

“Yes.” 

“But you have a wife and a child in Syria.”  

Rahim looks at him, startled.  

“There’s no limits for me, mate,” Q allows himself one of his not-so-nice smiles.

There is a shadow of irritation flickering over Rahim’s features, but he’s admirably good at controlling his face – after a moment, whatever he feels is hidden behind the blank wall of politeness.

“I never acted on it. It’s dangerous. I was required to finally marry, and she was chosen for me.”

“So you could pass the information to the Secret Service of your country’s enemy, but somehow it was less dangerous than to fuck some guy?”

Q is aware it’s not so easy. He just wants to see this irritation again.

“You need to find the guy. You need to be sure he won’t give you up. You need to actually fuck the guy. To give up information is fast. There is an established process for it. If you get caught, the consequences of espionage are actually milder because you can always diminish your involvement somehow. If you are caught with a dick up your ass? Well.”

Q tilts his head to the side. It’s not as if Q doubts the sincerity of the guy. All of this prodding is mostly for Q’s entertainment – he was curious to see how Rahim would hold in direct confrontation. He does well, but under Q’s unblinking stare, he’s slowly starting to fidget.  

“Alec is a good man. I’ll never hurt him,” he promises fervently. That’s a lie, though unintentional.

Q huffs and smiles without much warmth under it.

“Sure.”

 The silence stretches.

“He likes you very much.”

“Alec? I know. I like him too. Are you jealous?”

“No. Not when I see you care.”

Q shrugs and leaves.

***

What follows is an exceptionally eventful half a year for them all.

Alec catches a bullet for his boyfriend.

Then Rahim is poisoned and barely makes it. Good that he’s young – he’s younger than Q, after all, on full 7 years - and very healthy. 

After the third attempt, it’s clear Rahim needs to change his identity, fuck off somewhere remote and hope for the best.

First, Alec is determined to go with him.

Q doesn’t comment. Bond… does, but only to Q – he nurtured a bit of wisdom within himself.

Then, it suddenly changes.

Alec finds Q in his little office.  

One quick glance at his face tells Q all.

“What has he done?” he asks, looking back at his screens.  

Alec slumps on the couch.

“Also, may I remind you I’m not some kind of psychological support.”

“I’m aware. But you have asked the question.”

“Because of your face, Alec. I know you can pretend it’s all peachy just fine.”

“But it’s not, is it?” Alec mumbles.

Q sighs. Damn him and his growing capacity for compassion. Dad would have been so fucking proud.

“Did he tell you to fuck off?” Q guesses as he looks away from his work. Better just to get over it.

“So we talk about it?”

“While I’m feeling generous. Five minutes or so, and you’re wasting them.”

Alec smiles – a furtive, genuine thing. Q sends him a baleful stare in turn.

“Kind of. He said he likes me very much but isn’t sure if it’s enough to merit me leaving everything behind for him. I can’t quite understand if it’s a feeble excuse or a case of self-abnegation.”

“You can manipulate him into changing his mind if you really want him.”

“To torture us both?”

Q shrugs.

“Means you don’t really want him.”

“Not that I’m a decent person?” Alec starts to boil slowly. Q and his cynical logic make him angry. 

“You are, for a fact. Doesn’t change a thing. All real feelings are about torturing each other.”

Alec falls silent. Q leaves him to his thinking.  

***

Neither Q nor Bond sees Alec in the next two weeks until he calls Q and asks if he has ten minutes to spare for him. That’s good manners, so Q allows him to drop by his flat in the evening.

“Rahim wants you to fuck him,” Alec says after he’s downed half of his beer Q has offered him.

Q looks up from his tinkering. It’s not what he expected.

“And who does this idea belong to originally?”

“To me, I’m afraid.”

Q sets aside the soldering iron and straightens his glasses.

“You’ll be watching, then?”

“No.”

“No?” Q frowns. That way, it makes absolutely no sense to him.

“No. You’ll make a tape.”

“Oh,” Q gets a little thrill in his belly. “You want me to get you a dirty video?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes. Though he asked to make him as unaware of the camera as possible.”

“That’s easy. I can put a high-res camera in about anything.”

Another pause follows while Alec finishes his beer.

“So what do I say to him?”

“To him? Say that I’ve promised to think about it. To you… Hold on.”

Q has hidden cameras in his flat. One is hidden in a digital clock, and Q gives it to Alec, so he puts it in front of his bed.

Q promises he will turn it on only when needed, but Alec smiles and says he won’t be too cross with Q peeping. In a rare show of restraint, Q doesn’t.

He comes to Alec’s when he knows the man’s not there, but Rahim is, and inclines his head to the bedroom. Let Rahim lead the way. Stops beside the bed and takes his carding over his head. The guy stands frozen.

“Changed your mind?”

“No. Shouldn’t we discuss it?”

“I prefer less talk.”

Q unbuttons his shirt. He has no particular desire to fuck him, to be honest. He’d prefer Alec to be here in the room, at least. But he can do it. The thing about a long, filthy video is nice. The guy wants him – he knows this greedy stare well enough. This will do.

“I don’t want you to hurt me.”

Q almost laughs but tames it to a little snort.

“I won’t. Only if you’ll ask. I won’t kiss you either, even if you’ll ask.”

“No?”

“Uh-huh. Kisses are reserved for Bond.”

“Well. He’s lucky.”

With this, Rahim starts to strip. 

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Q counters and steps out of his trousers and underwear. Socks go away last, and he goes to find the lube and condoms. They’re tucked between the mattress and headboard, and Q turns and grins at Rahim with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“What? We keep it handy,” he says with a little giggle and climbs on the bed, naked. 

He has smooth olive skin, small dark nipples, and a dark patch of hair between his legs and under his arms. He’s as lanky as Q, only his hips are slightly wider, which makes his butt bigger. He kneels in the middle of the bed and looks at Q.

“Are we filming it?”

“Don’t think about it. Who’s bottoming?”

“Me?”

“Why the question?”

“I didn’t expect that you’d ask.”

“Ah,” Q chuckles and hands him the lube. He remains standing as he is, at the side of the bed. “What image of me have you constructed, exactly?” When Rahim fails to pick up the lube and fucking start the process, Q understands the need to сlarify. “Stretch yourself.”

“You are kind of intimidating. Sometimes,” Rahim complies without further questions or objections, though he looks uncomfortable when he starts pushing his fingers into himself. “Right now, for example.”

“Do you rather I don’t watch?”

“Yes.”

Q smirks and turns his head to the left side, to look right at the camera. He stands and listens to how Rahim’s breathing gets shorter and hitches, how he lets out a little hiss of discomfort.

“Don’t rush it. You did it to yourself before, right? You must have.”

“Yes. But I was always in a hurry. You know.”

“Well, you can slow it down now,” Q looks at him again and climbs onto the bed, too, sitting with his legs under himself face-to-face with the guy. He flicks his nipple gently, causing an abrupt inhale. He traces his nail across the areola. This evokes a nice little mewl. “Hurts?”

“In a good way. Touch me more.”

Q’s hands wander down, pressing into the skin and scratching. The guy is vocal. He hums and mewls, yelps and squeals. Q particularly likes the sound he makes when Q scratches his inner thigh just at the fold when it meets his groin. He wants to bite there.

This, at least, got him warmed up a bit.  

“Put your legs wider,” he says. Rahim does, with apprehension. He trembles a bit, but Q believes it’s not fear. “I’m going to bite. Tell me when to let go.”

“Bite what ?”

“Not your dick,” Q reassures and bends in the waist to clench his teeth on the spot he chose. He sucks the skin in a bit to leave a mark, and Rahim starts to fidget and cries out and puts a hand on Q’s head, but – not a single word. So Q bites harder.

“Ah! Stop!” The guy yelps, almost panicked, and Q lets go at once and straightens up. “D-Don’t do that anymore.”

Q looks at his cock for the first time. It’s small, and it leaks.

“Can you fit three inside?” Q asks abruptly.  

“Not just yet. You said no rushing.”

“So I did,” he nods and continues to stare, arms crossed on his chest.

He is a pretty boy. The expanse of skin is smooth and unblemished—not a single scar interrupts its canvas. The chest is narrow and hairless—it’s not waxed, it’s just how it is. His lashes are crazy long, making his hazel eyes look brighter. 

“So Alec's the first who was up inside you?”

“Um… Yes,” Rahim looks at him, blinks, and looks away. Only now, he starts really blushing.   

“I’d say that’s an achievement by itself. That dick is huge.”

“I couldn't… the first time. And the second. The third only by half,” he smiles and shakes his head. “The first time it was in me all the way, I thought I’d die.”

“But it’s nice, isn’t it?” Q prompts. He rolls a condom on and slicks some lube.

“It is,” Rahim agrees almost automatically, all his attention on Q’s cock. “He was patient. You won't be.”

“No, I won’t be,” Q smirks, “You can ask me to stop anytime. Come on, let's fuck.”

Q’d rather have him on all four, but Rahim refuses to present himself that way. All he can bear is missionary.  

“Okay. But you hold your knees to your chest,” Q agrees and waits till Rahim does so. It makes his hole just as nicely open and accessible.

Q goes all the way in in one slow push. The sound the boy makes is absolutely sinful. He contracts around the base of Q’s cock convulsively like he’s going to come just like that and claws at Q’s shoulder.

“Ah! Wait!”

“What for? You took it perfectly well. Come on. You’re alright.”

He’s a bit whiny. Alec’s fault – the man is far too patient.

Q isn’t brutally fast but far from slow and languid. The hole is tight and slick, and the body attached to it squirms so much that Q has to pin him with his hand, pushing just under his collarbones, slightly constricting the airways. Nonetheless, the boy’s moans are uninterrupted litany until he cries out, tugs at his cock several times, and comes, trashing against Q’s hold. 

To Q’s own astonishment, the tight, hot body and a pulsing hole aren’t enough for him anymore.  

He continues to shove his cock inside but soon gets pushed away.

“Sore,” Rahim complains plaintively.  

“You’re difficult,” Q laughs shortly without much irritation and pulls out. He bows his head and leans down to bite at a nipple, enticingly dark and hard. He makes sure it hurts. "And what should I do with you?" 

Rahim gasps and covers the abused place with his hand as soon as Q unclenches his teeth.

“I can take you in my mouth.”

Q glances away from his fingers, tying the used condom and to the boy.  

“Sure? I won’t let you back away,” he warns.

Rahim looks momentarily hesitant but then nods with a stubborn frown.   

“Go on then. Should I put a condom on?”

“I’m okay without it.”

Q leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs. There’s just a bit of hesitation before the boy swallows his cock cautiously. Braces do not affect the act in any way in the end. Q exhales and puts a hand on the back of Rahim’s head to adjust the bobbing to his likeness. 

“Help himself with the hand,” he suggests. Rahim pauses to put his fingers on the shaft under his mouth. “Tighter. Yes. Go on.”

Q closes his eyes and lets himself think of Bond. Bond hates giving heads, but deepthroats like a god anyway. 

The boy takes him down the throat sloppily. He can’t quite put his lips around his teeth in a proper way. Maybe that is a shortcoming of having braces. Q understands it won’t get them anywhere. Q is spoiled.  

“What if I just fuck your face?”

 “Uh… Okay.”

They flip over so that Rahim is on his back with Q’s cock against his mouth. Then Q goes for the throat. The boy wiggles and makes choked sounds that are bliss and distress in equal measure, and Q, the cruel bastard that he is, takes pleasure from that.

He comes into the boy’s mouth with a ragged moan, pulls out, and looks down. Alec’s boy is an absolute mess of saliva, snot, and come.

“Swallow,” Q commands because Rahim didn’t. He glares up at Q. “Come on. Be good.” The boy complies with a small wince. “Nicely done,” Q praises before pushing himself away. He stretches on his back across the bed with his hands under his head.

Rahim sits upright. He looks lost. Didn’t think further than one orgasm, then. He’s lucky that Q did.   

“If you wanted something dirty and were afraid to ask Alec, that’s the time. You won’t shock me.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Rahim stares at the antique dresser tucked in the corner of the room for some time. There are only two things that can be hidden in there. Q is sure his guess about which one of the two is correct.

“It’s lingerie, isn’t it? Purchased in secret and hidden under your cute manly boxers?”

“Yes. How do you know? Do you like it too?”

“No. But I’ve met quite a number of men who enjoy wearing them under their everyday clothes,” Q grins and flips over, putting his forearm under his chin. “Go on.”

He observes how Rahim reluctantly gets the items out: cream cotton panties trimmed with lace and lace bralette, a lavender lace body, a pink see-through nightie, and a short white slip dress.  

“No stockings?”

“No. I need to shave my legs for them. It’s a step too far.”

Q huffs.

“Is it?”

“Think so.”

“But you have them there?”

He must have. He does, according to the long pause that follows.

“Yes,” Rahim nods finally.

“Okay. Come with me.”

Q moves to the bathroom and starts rummaging through the cupboards until he finds a razor and shaving foam. Rahim is standing in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“What do you need these for?” He frowns.

“It should be obvious. Go into the shower. Lather it onto your legs,” Q says, holding out foam to Rahim.

“No!”

Q tuts. 

“I’ll do the shaving.”

The boy gapes at him. His throat clicks as he struggles to swallow. Q knows what people crave - he fucked so many he recognises certain inclinations with the precision of some strange kink oracle. 

This guy is easy - he needs to be ordered around and then pampered for how good he’s been. Preferably by a man superior to him - in status, in strength, but not in intelligence. Such specimens love to manipulate to only get orders they want to get.

Looks like Daddy’s issues to Q. But who is he to judge?

By now, Q has no doubt that Rahim had the initial idea of sleeping with him, not Alec. Either deep infatuation makes Alec dumb, or he willfully plays by Rahim’s rules. Like Q is aware that Rahim plays him now and indulges him.

Rahim ducks his head and hurries past Q into the shower stall. Q observes him lathering his legs and sinks on his knees when he’s done. 

“Put your foot here,” Q pats the middle of his thigh. “Take hold of something.”

Q starts from below the knee and then tends to the upper part. By the time Q gestures to Rahim to change the legs, the poor guy is wheezing.

“Like it?” Q murmurs, smoothing a hand over his knee and along the now hairless calf.

Rahim nods wordlessly, his cock swells again, but just a bit - it’s too soon after the first orgasm.

Q traces the razor from the knee down. Stops to rinse.

“Why did you want to fuck with me?” he asks in a conversational tone. Rahim looks down at him with a precisely constructed look of perplexion. He opens his mouth to speak, but Q interrupts. “Don’t lie to me.”

Rahim wets his lips. He’s silent for a while, his eyes follow the glide of the razor along his skin.

“Is there somebody who doesn’t?” He asks instead of an answer. 

“Flattery. Also, a confirmation bias,” Q chuckles. “I asked you what reason you had to want that. Alec is a decent fuck.”

“When we first met you sat on your boyfriend’s lap and was hard from him touching you. I just knew I needed to. Have it.”

“I’m far too gentle with you, considering that you’re a manipulative little shit,” Q muses out loud.

“I love Alec. And don’t really like you. You’re an unpleasant person.”

Q barks a short laugh. Now, they’re having a frank discussion.

“I just wanted to see if I can have you.”

“Play me, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Q makes a mental note to keep an eye on the brat after his departure elsewhere. Heaven knows what other ideas can creep into this head of his. But once again, Q tends to stir up worse in people. He appreciates the honesty, though.

“Didn’t work out.”

“Still, I’m not disappointed.”

Q finishes shaving, rinses the remains of foam, and stands up with a parting pat to Rahim’s bottom. 

“Go doll yourself up, then.”

Q watches how Rahim puts items on, unhurried and with great pleasure. The boy’s cock is crammed into panties that aren’t designed to accommodate such parts, and the bralette hugs his flat pectorals. He rummages in the drawer, finds stockings, and fumbles with packaging a bit before sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks at Q from under his brow and Q lifts his chin up with a shadow of a smile.

Rahim rolls them up his legs carefully. They have back seams.   

“Up,” Q says and admires the view after Rahim complies. 

“Nothing more?”

Rahim shakes his head.

“Allow me a suggestion, then.”

“Yes?”

Q leaves the room and returns with a butt plug. It’s of Bond’s girth. Alec is longer, but the circumference is almost the same. Rahim features hesitate between greedy curiosity and horror. 

“Is it?..”

“To keep you ready for Alec, yes.”

 “Should I strip?”

 “No need. You’re quite pretty like that,” Q praises, just to make the boy blush scarlet. He likes the look of his modest half-hard cock trapped under the thin cotton. “But you have to go to all four for me now. Butt close to the edge of the bed.”

Rahim hesitates but probably understands that he’s been put in a position where he can’t refuse Q’s request.

“How do you even fuck if you’re so damn shy?”

“Ankles on shoulders,” Rahim provides and crawls on the bed on his hands and knees. “In the dark.”

“Ridiculous,” Q laughs. “On your elbows.”

“No, I-I-I can’t .” 

Interestingly enough, the anguish in the boy’s voice isn’t part of his game. He really has a hard time sticking his butt up for Q. Must be his upbringing, but how would Q know?

Q comes closer, pushes a palm between Rahim’s shoulder blades and presses down without much force at the moment. The boy’s resistance, valiant but futile, makes Q push harder. Sooner rather that later, Q has Rahim in a desirable position.

“See? Nothing to fear,” he comments, taunt is obvious in his tone.

Q hooks his thumbs under the lace ruffle of the panties and tugs them down. He lets them slip all the way to the knees, and Rahim chokes on a moan. Q paws at his cock. Now, it’s hard again.

“If you want to come, better do it into your fist if you don’t want to get messy too soon,” he advises to another weak moan.

Two fingers go inside easily enough. Three cause a slight sound of distress, but Q ignores it.  

“Hold your butt open for me for a bit. Just one side.”

“Um… why?” Rahim turns his head in an attempt to catch what Q’s doing. He does what Q asks of him without waiting for an answer, though, his hand shaking while putting his meaty buttock aside, so Q gives him one.

“You just need a bit of lube inside,” he says, placing his hand on the other half of Rahim’s bum and spreading it until the hole is nice and open.

“Fuck,” Rahim blurts out, his whole body goes tense and rigid. 

Q has to massage the round muscle with his thumb to force it back to its relaxed state. Rahim chokes out yet another curse as he succumbs to the sensation. Q chuckles and slowly feeds a good amount of lube into the hole. When he puts his fingers inside the next time, they come out wet and with a squelching sound. Rahim makes a sound close to a sob and wiggles his butt. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” he laments. 

“Nothing about this is right,” Q answers. “You can put your hands back under yourself.”

He does and tries to push himself up. Q puts a hand on the back of his neck to prevent it. It elicits the sound of distress from Rahim and he starts to struggle, but Q is much stronger.

“You need to stay put, or you’ll leak lube all over your pretty things.”

“I don’t want you to do it.”

His hole contracts. He’s panicking. Q starts to really enjoy it. He covers Rahim’s cock with his hand – it didn’t get any softer, no matter the distress. His dick is cut, and his slick, hot head is exposed and jostled against Q’s fingers when Rahim drives his hips forward, chasing the friction.

“I think you do, quite desperately.”

Q allows him one more rooting motion before removing his hand and picking up the plug. The boy falls silent – only heavy, panting breaths and helpless quivering.  

Q presses the plug into the waiting hole. Rahim gasps.

“Breath out,” Q commands him. The boy manages to take three-quarters of it before wiggling his arse free. Q tries again. And again. Stubborn and whiny, Rahim doesn’t let it any further than that - he panics, contracts, and squirms. The plug gets pushed out, and Q’s fingers slip off the base. In the end, Q loses that little patience he had and gives the wiggly round bottom a good smack. Rahim gasps. It’s not a bad gasp, even though it’s watery. Q feels pleasingly aroused even though he’s irritated.

“Be still.”  

“I can’t take it. It’s too fat too fast,” Rahim sniffs, rattling his words in a panicked hurry.

“The cock is too fat immediately. Yet, you can take it.”

The boy groans in frustration.

“You’re a bastard.”

“I know,” Q just pushes the plug in again. Rahim shrieks, but Q is too fast for him to react with all his puppy-wiggling – and the wider part slips inside, leaving only a flat round handle. “Here you go. With your hole still perfectly intact.”

It earns Q a vicious bite to his side. He barely holds himself from clocking the idiot in the bridge of his nose with his elbow – just on instinct. He catches him by the back of his neck instead.

Rahim pants. He isn’t enough to confront Q when he is face to face with his fury.

“Where should I bite you, then?”

Rahim bares his neck readily. His cheeks are wet, the head of his cock has gone purplish.

“Oh no. You shouldn’t enjoy it. I didn’t.”

If Q had been the better man, he would have taken pity on him. Luckily, he isn’t. The slap forces Rahim's head to turn sharply and leaves Q’s palm buzzing with a sting of pain. The boy gawks at Q with so many different emotions, none of them are positive. Q’s sure he’d have heard a curse or two, but Rahim can’t quite find his voice.

“I could have broken your nose easily,” Q gently pats the boy's other cheek. “If you want to hurt me, you just need to ask.”

Q thinks then that Rahim will ask. There is this flicker in his eyes which Q knows well, of morbid curiosity, of desire to prod at the boundaries. 

Instead, the tears glistening in his eyes start escaping. Q smiles and pulls the panties up this sobbing mess of a guy’s legs, over his butt and his straining dick.

“Shit. I’m gonna come,” Rahim gasps with a hoarse, hysterical laugh. Q has just enough time to hook the front of the panties under Rahim’s balls and close his fist on the head, already sputtering the first white streak. Rahim moans, his body trashes, and he bends in half so his forehead is somewhere very near Q’s groin.

When the violent wave of climax is gone, he starts to wail.

Q broke Alec's boy.

“Okay, alright. You’re good,” Q grouses, fending Rahim off from the vicinity of his own erection until he’s sitting again. “You’re an utter mess.”

“Sorry.”

“Quite alright. Go wash your face.”

Rahim hides his cock under panties again and goes to the bathroom on wobbly legs. Q wipes his hand on the edge of the bedding and puts his pants and trousers back on. Then he goes to the bathroom, where Rahim blows his nose.

Q stands in the doorway and observes until Rahim is cleaned up and ready. His nose is a bit red, but it’ll pass soon enough. The tears made him look only softer – swollen plump lips, small puffy pouches under the eyes, slight blush high on cheeks.

Rahim looks at Q’s side. It’s the side clean from the tattoo, and Q feels the telltale hotness of a blooming bruise.

Q is going to be considerate and ask if Rahim is okay with being left alone, but he’s freed of the burden of being nice when the jingle of keys turning in the lock is heard.  

“Right on time,” Q grins and nods at the slip dress draped over the dresser. “Go meet him.”

Q has no idea how Alec would react to the choice of garments. But his bet is that any adverse reaction is improbable. Rahim looks well, with his manner of swaying his hips while walking, which is aggravated by a slight limp of a thoroughly fucked person. Even in Q's opinion, he looks delicious.

While the two are occupied with each other, Q can put the rest of his clothes back on. He steps out of the bedroom to the picture of Alec’s hands squeezing the boy’s arse to his undignified yelp. Q clears his throat, and Rahim recoils from Alec. He mumbles something silly about tea and escapes to the kitchen. 

Q snorts to himself and goes to give Alec a hug.

“You better skip the tea,” he advises, “I made it all ready for you.”

“Thoughtful,” Alec murmurs against his ear. He strives to be monogamous, but really, his body is not on board with it. Q turns his head to steal away a quick kiss on the mouth.

“I am. Have fun.”

“Did you?”

“You’ve spoiled him. But yes, a bit,” Q winks. “Goodbye, Rahim,” he raises his voice. The dark head peers from around the doorway.

“Um… Bye, Freddy. It was nice to see you.”

Q grins at Alec one more time before making his exit.

***

One evening, Alec turns up at Q’s flat unannounced, with red-rimmed eyes and looking like shit in general. Q deducts that it must be the day of Rahim’s departure and that it’s already happened. Q condones a long hug in the hallway and fends Alec off when the limit of his grace is reached.

“I’m working, Alec. A strange choice of person to seek comfort from, really,” he pats the man’s cheek. “What do you need from me?”

Alec shrugs. His eyes are wet, and this Q cannot abide.

“No. I’ll hit you if you start fucking crying.”

“Such a dear,” Alec comments after a startled laugh. “Just don’t make me leave.”

Q puffs an irritated sigh.

“Tell you what. How about I call Bond and tell him to come over in three hours, and we’ll get pissed together? Before that, you’ll get some sleep or whatever that will keep you from distracting me.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. In you go.”  

Thoughtful as ever, Bond brings not only booze but also a take-out. Indian isn’t Q’s personal favourite, but all their meeting is meant to cheer Alec up, and Alec loves Indian.  

As Bond and Alec silently go through half a bottle of whiskey, a footie match playing on the telly, Q goes up to the second level and returns with two flash drives. He dangles them in front of Alec.

The expression on Alec’s face is a mix of lust, sorrow, and irony.

“Two?”

“Me and him. You and him. Thought you’d want to have both.”

“Much obliged,” Alec pockets the flash drives.

Q makes himself another Tom Collins – heavy on gin but moderate enough to lag behind the two other men, and goes to sit between them.

“Will you take me back?” Alec asks when an emptied bottle of whiskey is replaced with a full one.

“Sure,” Q says while Bond just grunts in the affirmative. Alec looks surprised. “What?”

“Just like that?”

Q nods.

“If Bond finds himself a fling and then returns after it’s over?”

“I won’t,” Bond chuckles. “I’d have nothing to give to a fling; this vulture sucks me dry.”

“I’ll demand of him to share. We are in a bit different conditions. I promised you no obligations. Bond has some.”

“Hm.”

More silent drinking follows.

“Should we watch it?”

They all are quite drunk. Q’s hand is in Bond’s pants, fingers doing very lazy, sloppy teasing. Alec is accustomed to such displays by now – he knows the drunker Q gets, the hornier he becomes. Alec can request a bit of attention to himself, but he seems content to just massage the back of Q’s head, which evokes quiet sounds of bliss out of Q.

“Are you willing to share with the class?”

“The piece with you and him. Not sure about the second one.”

“Okay. Never watched people watching pornography with myself.”

Q takes the flash drive back from Alec and plays it on the TV. The shooting angle turned out quite well, and the resolution of the video is pleasing. Q has never seen himself taped. He’s not that vain or stupid. Q can rely on Alec that he won't be a security risk, but It's seldom that he has such faith in other people.

The resulting film is… engaging.  

Alec is tense and very still, and only his fingers that snake down to the back of Q’s neck squeeze till the point of pain. Q hears how frenzied his breathing is and sees what’s going on between his legs, and these two things betray the fact that the deeper part of Trevelyan, the one that Q strives to unearth, is enjoying it.

Bond’s satisfaction is much more heedless. 

“You’re one mean bastard, love,” Bond mutters with a laugh while on screen, Q makes the boy swallow his cock.

“Thought about you in the meantime.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Bond murmurs with far too much fondness for Q’s comfort.

The bite in the final causes both men to wince.

When the slap follows, Alec jumps. Rahim didn’t tell him, then.

“What the fuck, Q?” He sounds appalled.

Q tuts.

“It's his own fault. And you knew whom you gave him to. Right?” 

Unconcerned by Alec’s frown, Q sends him a blithe smile. As they finish watching, the atmosphere in the room tenses up. Q can’t help tingles of familiar anticipation.

“It’s clear this pervert found it fun and mildly arousing,” he pats Bond’s groin in parting and sits astride Alec’s thighs. “But how did you like it?”

“I want to think it’s a bit repulsive. But can’t quite manage.”

Alec is rock-hard. He trashes when Q's fingers press into the place where his jeans’ fabric is taut with all that’s grown and shifted underneath. Q is getting overheated.

“So I can expect some gratitude, then?” 

“Jimmy?” 

“Please, take him. I’ll wank in the corner peacefully, at last.” 

Q is naked and astride Alec’s hips with his back to the man in no time.

He takes it all, not bothering to stretch himself beforehand. Alec insists on sticking fingers up his arse first, but all Q allows him to have is several cursory pushes of two digits.

Alec is lubed and sheathed in a layer of latex and is crammed into the place in Q’s body with a sweet sting that has Q hissing. 

Q levers himself against Alec’s knees and bottoms his dick in himself again and again. Alec groans as if in torment. Q echoes him with fuck, and hah, and yes, and the sounds that get increasingly less human. He looks at Bond’s reflection in a black mirror of turned-off telly, at the large hand tending to the dick that jutting out of an open front of his trousers, at his mouth, half-open and wet.  

It smiles at him toothily.

Alec makes him go faster. It scratches the itch splendidly – but Bond’s glimmering eyes are just too much to resist.

“Come here,” Q heaves. Bond folds his hard-on into layers of his attire and stands half a pace across. “Hit me.”

Alec’s pounding stammers. Bond doesn’t ask, doesn’t even hesitate more than two beats that are probably wasted on deciding how to approach the inquiry.

It’s an open palm meeting Q’s cheek. A sting tingles hotly. He moves his hips to force Alec back into proper action - the man can’t resist and snaps his hips up.

“Really, Bond,” Q sneers, “it’s a slap, not a hit.”

“Oh yeah?”

Now, he really goes for it. It’s still an open palm, but the backswing is huge, and so is the force. It resounds inside Q’s head like a siren and kicks him off balance – his head turns, and his body slumps to the left – Alec catches him by the shoulder and pulls closer protectively. 

Q lets himself drop back on Alec’s chest; half of his face is burning, his chin is wet, and his nose stings so much it makes his eyes water.

“Oh, come on. Finish it,” Q murmurs to Alec, breathless, locking eyes with Bond, who takes his cock out again.

 “You’re bleeding,” Alec notes but snaps his hips up and fucks into him urgently. Bond before them tugs at his cock. Q presses his fingers inside the spongy flesh of the split lip, pushing it against his teeth, and comes without much of a sound, but all Bond can see of his eyes is the whites. It's a sensation that sets aflame, pleasure that wrings out Q's insides and forces momentary blindness on him.

Bond catches his high with a blissful groan. The fucker makes sure some of his jizz gets on Q’s face.  

Alec gives him a series of powerful thrusts and is unravelled with a deep groan that resonates in Q’s ribcage. Q slumps down on him and feels intense sex shudders and harsh panting, and the desperate moan that is his own.

Alec touches his chin. His fingers are red.

“Mm,” is all Q says.

Bond kisses him on the mouth with greedy, aggressive insistence and licks away quite some blood.

“You have a nose bleeding, darling,” he murmurs into Q’s mouth. Q feels it at the back of his throat. He makes an effort to sit upright so the blood drips out of him and not into him. A few drops of blood paint dots on Alec’s jeans. 

“That’s because you did a good job, James,” Q smiles with bloody lips.   

He must look terrifying because Alec turns his face slightly to see the damage and immediately starts fussing.

“Let’s take you to the bathroom,” Alec attempts to stand up, but they are still attached in the middle, and Q makes a sound of protest.

“No, you stay as you are,” he scolds with a glare over his shoulder. "Jem," he shifts his gaze to James, who stands there stunned. Q rewinds back, and his eyes widen. He rarely uses any endearments while addressing Bond, and that. Well. That one is better than any love confession. Q soldiers on and decides not to scowl. To be so afraid of it isn't stoicism but cowardice, after all. "Bring paper towels from the kitchen, would you?"

Bond brings the roll. His expression is soft. He puts several folded towels under Q's nose and waits until Q holds them in place with his fingers. He kisses Q's hand.

James pushes him back, so he leans against Alec's chest once again.

"Alec. Lend a hand?" He asks softly and directs Alec's fingers to pinch the bridge of Q's nose.   

Q tucks the back of his head on Alec’s shoulder and waits till it passes, tossing sodden red towels on the floor and taking new ones from Bond. His face still hurts. It’ll likely bruise. The thought makes a small secret smile appear on his lips. 

“Do you want a kiss?” he grins at Alec when it’s over. Man’s dick is still up his arse - it’s softened by now, but Q holds it in place, squeezing the muscle around it.

“You’re terrifying. I won’t kiss you when your face is still smeared in blood .”

“Your loss,” Q sways to sit more upright and let Alec’s thing slip from his body.

Bond appears with a wet cloth, takes a firm hold of Q’s chin, forcing him to look up, and starts cleaning the blood under Q’s scowl.

“Can I stay?” Alec asks when Bond is almost done. 

“I wasn’t planning to have company for a night. You can stay with Bond, I suppose.”

“And I just wanted to say he is all soft and mellow,” Bond teases, seemingly recovered from Q's slip.

Q makes a lazy attempt to swing at him. He catches his arm and tugs Q upright in a sharp move. Then, Bond holds the red silk robe open for him and steals a kiss.

“Do you like these things too?” Alec asks. He tucks himself in briskly.

Q shrugs. The robe is made of plain red silk without frivolities, save for the price Bond paid for it, but it’s not menswear.

“I don’t care much about clothes. Bond bought it. He says it’s complementary to my constitution.”

“It is,” Bond growls and gropes at Q’s hips.

“All right. Out, you both.”

By the door, Alec finally leans for a kiss, grabbing at Q’s waist and pulling him closer. Q throws his arms around Alec’s shoulders and dives in into a sloppy, earnest kiss with a lot of tongue. They break out only when the oxygen becomes an annoying necessity, and Q turns to Bond.

"Take care of him, will you?" He pats Bond's cheek. 

"What do you mean by that, Dagny, dear?"

Q slants Alec a glance. Q's sure the green-eyed fox of a man has known his full name since their time in the Swiss hospital. But Alec is too chivalrous to utter his name without a proper consent from Q, given willingly. Silly man.

"I mean, you can let him have you. I don't mind if you do. You can't have him. I should be the first man taking him from behind."

"I'm still here, you know!" Alec sputters with indignation.

"I know. Why do you think I'm saying that?" Q gives Alec, who is rendered speechless, a seraphic smile. “Now get the fuck out. You’re worse than a pair of leeches.”

The comparison makes both men bark a laugh.

Something begins to swell in Q’s chest from the sight. 

James, as if justifying his status as a bloodsucking parasite, catches Q in the last embrace.

“Out. Out!” 

When Q finally kicks the idiots out, he leans his back to the door and shakes the head with exasperated fondness.

Chapter Text

They return in the middle of the night, so drunk they only can stand leaning on each other. Q is angry, but they don’t even manage to step over the threshold of his front door without tripping and forming a pile on the floor as a result.

“You are impossible idiots. Couch, spare bed, rug - whatever you animals find most comfortable. Don’t you dare wake me up again; I fucking warn you I wouldn’t be so gracious the next time around,” Q threatens through laughter.

They don’t. Q wakes up the following day to breakfast ready and two awfully hangover individuals, who leave all the actual food to him and nibble at the toast, looking miserable and green around the edges.

“What did you drink?”

Alec almost gags.

“We don’t speak about it, or somebody will puke in the sink, and you’re eating,” Bond grimaces.

“Intriguing,” Q comments. “I have Alka-Seltser and B12 in the tea cupboard. Take it, you both are truly miserable.”

Alec gets up with something that may be a grateful grunt. After breakfast, James and Alec catch more sleep. James is on the couch, and Alec is on the rug that’s thrown in front of it, with rolled plaid instead of a pillow. Q settles a little space that is left by the bulk of Bond - puts headphones on, and plays video games on his console. It seems he can’t be granted privacy, and his stray cats multiply by themselves.

After three or so hours spent mindlessly shooting at people on the screen, Q is startled by a touch that encircles his naked ankle.

“Shit, Alec,” He grouses after he swipes the headphones to dangle on his neck. 

“Hello to you too, grachonok,” the man’s grin has his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Q frees his leg and kicks Alec in the ribs, but there is no real power behind it. He’s barefoot, and his toes must make it ticklish because Alec wriggles to escape contact.

“Feeling better, are you?” Q huffs. “Want to play?”

“I should brush my teeth first. And maybe have a shower,” Alec scrunches his face, forcing an unfortunate fond smile out of Q.

Trevelyan smells exactly how all men smell after a night of copious libations, but Q doesn’t mind because he finds Alec’s natural smell pleasing enough, just as it is with Bond, who has managed to have a shower and not drown in it somehow.  

“You can pilfer some Bond’s clothes and put yours to wash. Since impossibility of getting rid of you is evident.”

“Thank you, sunshine. You’re very kind,” Alec rolls away from Q faster than he can kick the bastard again. Q gives him a two-fingered salute and returns to his interrupted game, plotting revenge.

His plan is ready even before the water in the shower stops running. Q peeks at Bond, still asleep, sprawled on the couch and drooling - a fabulous Double-Oh-Seven in all his glory. Tossing the joystick aside, Q ambles towards the bathroom.

He knocks and enters, not waiting for permission to do so. It’s his home; a warning is all he ought to give. He finds Alec adorned only in a towel and gazing around pensively.

“Bond keeps spares. Left side of the cupboard.”  

Alec nods and retrieves a new toothbrush while Q leans against the doorframe, watching him. When Alec is finished, Q moves closer, pressing him against the edge of the wide sink.

Q’s hands perform a slow, luscious slide down Alec’s belly. He hooks his thumb under the towel and leaves another hand wandering along Alec’s side. 

“What is it?” Alec sounds very curious.

“Your boy couldn’t manage a decent blowjob. Even on me, and, I presume, especially on you.”

“Not everybody is as demanding as you.”

“True. But I think you’re quite desperate to have your cock sucked anyway.”

“And you’re proposing out of the purity of your soul?” Alec asks, his voice seeping with irony.

Q snorts. “Of course not. But you’ll see.”

While Alec stares at Q’s reflection, his eyes full of justified suspicion, Q loosens the towel around his waist. It’s caught between Alec and the sink, and Q needs Alec to sway back a little bit to have him naked, so he waits.

“You know nobody in a position to reject you.”

“You did it once.”

“What is it, revenge?”

“Yes, but not for that. For you being here again after I told you to get out.”

“Was Bond’s idea.”

“I’m sure it was,” Q leaves a bite on Alec’s shoulder. The towel slips from his waist to the floor, and Q hides his predatory, sharp smile on the back of Alec’s neck.

He bestows another bite upon the parcel of skin there and encourages Alec to turn with a push at his hip. When Alec obliges, Q dodges a kiss and sinks to his knees. The towel on the tiled floor provides a bit of comfort, and he gets straight to business. 

It’s not a cock he’s after. Alec is bound to realise it soon enough - when Q’s fingers massage his balls, rub at his taint and unassumingly snake in the tight, inadmissible space further.

“Q,” Alec reproaches but makes no moves to dislodge Q’s imprudent fingers when they circle the muscle and even intrude, just the tiniest bit. He bites his lip when Q lets his cock just at the edge of his throat.

“Just one or maybe two,” Q croaks after freeing his mouth.

Alec’s hesitance and hot, molten desire are both quite tangible. The troubled expression is etched on his face, but Q is restless and as impatient as ever. He ducks his head to lick and suck at the silk of Alec’s balls and dips his middle deeper. 

“I’m not cleaned,” Alec warns.

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be; just having a shit beforehand does the trick. I don’t mind the mess anyway.”

Q moves the finger deeper, but now skin starts to drag against muscle, and Alec twitches away from it for the first time.   

“Why did Rahim do it?”

“Probably out of lack of anatomical knowledge. Shut up, Alec. Lube.”

Q disregards Alec’s theatrical, heavenward stare and swallows his cock again as a way of encouragement.

“Where is it?” Alec asks weakly, his chest heaves and his hips move to meet the mouth.

Q casts his eyes to the cupboard's right side and puts his palm up when Alec has the bottle in his hand. 

Alec is very receptive. How strongly he reacts to nipple stimulation, the same way his body welcomes the gentle prodding of Q’s fingers from the inside. Q is jealous - he has no such sensitivity. Bond too. They both like the pain, stretch and savagery of the act. Alec would be another case.

“Ngh,” Alec chokes out when Q slides one finger in him, wiggle it this way and that and pushes in and out.

One, with so much lube, shouldn’t cause any discomfort, even for a first-timer. Q pushes the second alongside with a firm suck around the head, and Alec curses and clenches his hand in Q’s hair.

Then Q finds his prostate, and from there, precome gushes into Q’s mouth copiously, and Alec gasps and moans and tries to evade insistent pressure. Q torments him just a bit more and starts fucking him with fingers slowly, touching a deep spot only slightly.

Alec leans on the sink and gives in to Q, letting him have everything. He’s beautiful this way, in surrender to pleasure and Q, and momentarily free from constant worries about meaningless sensibilities.

He spills in Q’s mouth the moment Q presses his thumb to the edge of the stretched hole - with a filthy, far too loud moan. Q hums while his mouth fills, extricating his fingers and caressing the twitching muscle. When Alec is spent, he gets up and spits the mouthful of semen to the sink as he keeps Alec in place with hands on his hips and straightens to look at the man, who is flushed and hazy-eyed from pleasure.

Q didn’t expect Trevelyan to give in so easily. The lack of fight is disappointing and rewarding at the same time.

“Had your own fingers up your arse?” Q guesses.

“Mmm,” Alec nods and scoops Q into a hug. “Yours are the first foreign object inside me if it pleases you.”

“Immensely.”

As on cue, Bond enters the bathroom - the door was left ajar, and it is as good as an invitation.

“I thought I was hearing you having fun,” he drawls with a dirty smile. He saunters over to the sink, ignores the fact there is a streak of jizz inside it and turns on the tap. Alec scoots to the side, and Q uses the moment to free himself from the embrace.   

“You can stay today. In my bed, even,” he announces, tossing a t-shirt to Alec. Bond is brushing his teeth, unperturbed. Q comes to wash his hands.

“But?” Alec requests.

“You let me fuck you.”

Alec laughs as if Q said something funny. Q is irritated that Alec has the gall to be amused.

“And if I find it unpleasant?”

“You most likely will, at some point”, Q shrugs. “But I’d come with my cock inside you and then make you come any way you’d prefer.”  

“And what about Jimmy?”

Bond has a rare moment when he doesn’t run his mouth but just observes the scene developing before him.

“Your call.”

Alec looks at Bond.

“You’re his bo-”

“Don’t you dare finish this thought,” Q scolds, “how does that matter to what you want, Alec?”

“Don’t make another lesson out of it,” Alec grouses as he steps into one of Bond’s lounge pants. “I thought we’re well past it.”

“Fuck you,” Q bites back, suddenly angry and storms out of the bathroom.

He’s back to shooting people, fully expecting to be finally left alone, but Bond comes into his view. He sits beside Q, waits five minutes and drags the headphones down Q’s head. 

“What?” Q barks.

Bond is the epitome of patience. Q wants to kick him. 

“Are you having trouble being my boyfriend?”

“Right now? Yes. Generally, no. I thought we’d established it long ago.”

“We have. Just making sure,” Bond put an arm over Q’s shoulders. “You’re wanting badly something that can’t quite reach. I think you are rejecting your own desires in a way.”

“Hmm. Won’t talk about it.”

Bond gives him a warm smile. Q answers it with a scowl. 

“I think he won’t be against being your boyfriend either.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Of course.”

Q switches to Minecraft, feeds some chickens and kills some zombies. Bond remains sitting at his side.

“Where’s Alec?”

“Sulks in the corner. Just like you.”   

“Why he hasn’t left?”

“He had enough time to learn you sometimes get yourself in a frenzy. Waits it out. Plus, his clothes are in the dryer.”

“He can ride a cab in whatever,” Q mutters and cooks some meat in the furnace.

Bond acknowledges with a hum. 

Q keeps playing. Bond brings tea - something herbal and probably calming. He remains sitting at Q’s side, content to stroke Q’s thigh and refill his cup. Q is aware they both take comfort from each other’s presence. Q knows it for what it is - weakness. Quite often, he wants to return five years back when he could be fine without Bond, when the man was just another option for him on the list of many. Sometimes, he wishes the man just died. It’s the only way back for Q.

He doesn’t turn his annoyance at Bond because the root of the problem isn’t in him. It’s in Q.

After some time has passed - enough for Q's rage to have been numbed somehow - Alec descends the stairs, clothed in his washed and dried clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Q mumbles after Alec stands at the bottom of the stairs with his hand on the railing.

“Do you want me to?”

Q frowns in irritation. Yes, he wants to say.

“Take Bond with you if you do,” he answers instead.

“That isn’t an answer.”

Yes, he must say, or it would develop into a new set of troubles for him. But oh, he does love troubles. It keeps him on his toes. Plus, the thing on the table here is too enchanting to refuse.

“No, I don't want you to.”

“Jimmy can stay. To watch like a pervert or to participate.” 

“Do you want him?”

“It’s out of practicality. He knows how to defuse you a bit.”

Q snorts and keeps playing. Bond takes Alec to buy groceries and cooks dinner - prawns with broccoli and wild rice. Q eats with his feet on Alec’s lap under the table. Alec, an admirer of red meat and roast potatoes, picks at food with distrust.

“Bottom’s diet,” Q provides.

“What?!” Alec looks up from his plate, startled, and his voice breaks.

“That’s what you eat when you get fucked in the arse regularly. So there’s not much stuff leaking out.”

“Is it appropriate table talk?”

Q shrugs.

“Eat. Bond’s a good cook.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“You are,” Q leans for a kiss out of generosity. Bond really feeds him well.

Later in the evening, Alec gets restless. Q is half-sure he’ll escape, but he stays put - he finds some books on Q’s bookshelves that Q treats more like decoration and busies himself with reading while Q and Bond play a racing game with passion.    

It’s well past midnight when Q tosses the joystick to the side, gets up and stretches until his vertebrae crack.

“Alec,” he calls.

“Hm?” Alec looks up, expression unguarded, and rubs at his eye. He’s without his glasses, and the squint in his eyes makes him look ridiculously like a cat that’s just been woken from its nap.

“Go upstairs. I’ll be right with you,” Alec dithers a bit, his eyes sliding from Q to Bond and back, but ultimately just nods and goes to the stairs.

Q bends to lean on Bond’s knees with his hands.

“Come up a bit later. Forty minutes or so.”

“It’s okay if you’re not willing to share, Dagny,” Bond tangles his fingers in Q’s hair, messing it up even more.

“No, I actually don’t mind. I like to have you both in bed.”

“Are you?” Bond's eyes twinkle, and suddenly and shockingly, Q’s on the verge of blushing.

“Shut up. Yes,” he leans in to capture Bond’s mouth in a quick but eager kiss. “So you’re welcome to join.”

When Q enters his bedroom, Alec sits on the edge of the bed, looking unsure.

“Hi,” Q smiles.

“I think I’m extremely old to lose virginity,” Alec grouses and parts his legs so Q can step in between them.

“No such thing,” Q huffs a laugh and pulls Alec’s tee over his head. Alec does the same with his. “You can go clean yourself if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“You’re suspiciously considerate, Q.”

“I’ll cease to be like that the moment my fingers up your hole,” Q promises. “For now, though, a first time is a first time.”

“Okay. I’d rather do it. I don’t know how, though.”

“Find the instructions on the internet. I have all the things for it. Up in the cabinet. All new and clean.”

While Alec’s gone, Q rummages in the nightstands for all the things they need and has enough time left to send Bond a nude out of cheekiness.

“You’re pushing it, dear,” Bond shouts from downstairs.

Alec returns to naked Q, propped up on the two pillows and staring at the phone. After a couple of seconds needed to finish writing a message, Q tosses the mobile into the nightstand’s drawer and closes it. Then he pats his thigh. 

“No, it’s ridiculous,” Alec argues. Of fucking course.     

“Let's not start with defiance, mm?” Q sighs and waits. Alec climbs to the bed and up his thighs. He’s bigger than Q everywhere - his thighs that hug Q’s narrow hips, his chest against Q’s face, his butt cupped by Q’s hands.

“Here you go,” Q smiles up at him, fingers teasing his hole. “I’m going put two at once inside. Just don’t clamp down on me.”

“I’ll try,” Alec promises with a laugh. “Are we kissing, at least?”

Q tips his head back for a kiss. When two fingers break the resistance of tight, unaccustomed to such things muscle, Alec bites at his mouth with a muffled groan. Q stops his fingers just as they are in by the first phalanx and tries to move them in the tiniest circles as if in an attempt to widen the entrance. Alec’s hips bucks forward, and his cock slides along Q’s thigh, leaving a wet stripe of precome.

“You slut,” Q mumbles in Alec’s mouth. “Maybe you’ve been a fucking cock-hungry bottom all this time?”

“Doubt it,” Alec croaks. He has a rather complicated expression as if he’s suddenly found himself in a situation he couldn’t foresee in his wildest fantasies.

Q has slid down from the pillows because Alec is pushing on his shoulders, and they are almost lying, which isn’t perfect.

“Bend your legs in the knees. I need your butt sticking out.”

Alec does, and Q pushes deeper. The man frowns but doesn’t utter a word or any other sound. Knows it has to be with some degree of pain and takes it willingly and impassively. 

After several pushes, resistance subsides, and Q returns to teasing open the muscle, pulling at it with his thumb this time. Alec’s breaths become louder and messier again. 

“Like when I do it like that?”

By the sheer hotness of Alec’s dick sliding over Q’s thigh, the answer is obvious.

“I think so. Don’t like when you stuff me with your fingers, though.”

Q tuts.

“But like stuffing your own cock to some poor, poor boys. Imagine how they feel.”

“Don’t want to,” Alec laughs and nuzzles into Q’s neck and cheek until Q obliges and lets him have a sloppy kiss.

He tries to add two other fingers to a thumb, but this isn’t easy, despite Alec being cooperative and not even flinching away, though it should be downright painful.

“Why you’re being so good? It’s half kills the mood, really.”

“Maybe I know you enjoy resistance,” Alec grins. 

Q pushes him to the shoulder hard enough to tip sideways. Still, the man lands on his back as if it wasn’t the forced manoeuvre - the mattress under him has barely wobbled.

“Fucker,” Q smiles and crawls between Alec’s legs. “Hold your leg to the chest. Or both, but you may want to leave it on a mattress as a fulcrum.”  

Q shows him the toy. It’s silicone beads, drop-shaped, each next bigger than the other, all connected. This one is small. Q has another one out of its box, too.

“Bond likes them. I usually watch how he fuck himself with one of these when I’m in the mood to watch.”

When they half the way, Alec’s already shut his eyes. Q keeps one hand on the toy, the other one on Alec’s cock, giving it sparse strokes, and his eyes travel from Alec’s face to his hole that swallows purple droplets. Q pushes the next one in and holds it still halfway so the muscle is forced to stay open. Alec groans and opens his eyes to give Q an annoyed look.

“What? Want it in?”

“Don’t play with food.”

“All right,” Q frees it to slip in and stuffs another one right after, and then the one before last.

Alec yelps and bucks his hips for the first time. Q laughs and makes him take it to the last one anyway, using both hands. He bends to lick a stripe over Alec's balls and along his cock, bites the sharp point of his hipbone, and climbs his body up until his eyes are level.

“Menace,” Alec pants. Q feels how Trevelyan’s hands land on his waist and force him down so their cock slot against one another nicely.

“You asked for it. Hurts?” He enquires curiously.

“A bit. I imagine it’ll be worse on the way out.”

“You’re probably right,” Q nods with a pleased half-smile.

At that moment, Bond makes his entrance. He hums at the sight - a particular sound that betrays just how pleased he is.

“Hi, James,” Q sends him a glance over the shoulder. “Want to pull it out?”

“With pleasure.”

Q doesn’t need to look at Bond to know when he starts pulling the toy free. Alec claws at his waist with an iron grip, and Q can see his jawbone bunching up below his temples.

“Stop it. No sense in holding it back,” Q murmurs.

Alec throws his head back and groans deeply and with desperation. It reverberates in Q’s chest. Bond behind them chuckles.

“Always have thought he’s a latent cockslut,” he comments to Q.

Q smirks and rubs at Alec’s nipples.

“You want a bigger one or this one more time?”

“This first.”

“James. Do the honours? Make it fast.”

While Bond is at it, Q stares down at Alec’s face - the frown, the rigid “o” of his mouth that slackens into a whisper of a moan that transforms into a viciously bitten lip. Alec’s eyes fall shut. Q feels just how wet the place between their bellies is. He reckons Alec won’t be able to think straight anymore.

“How about we pull it out and try cock next? I’m getting impatient, and you should be able to take it anyway.”

“As you will, grachonok,” Alec mumbles.

Q sits between Alec’s legs again, expelling Bond from there. Bond gives his arse a pinch and settles close to Alec on his side, leaning on one elbow.

Alec looks up at Q with half-lidden, hazy eyes while Bond smiles lewdly.

“Well? Kiss,” Q grins at them while rolling a condom over his cock, and the two men reach each other to collide in a greedy kiss.

Q hoists Alec’s arse high into his thighs. Alec holds one leg to his chest helpfully while Bond hooks a hand under the knee of the other; both men still don’t distract from devouring each other mouths. Q can hear wet sounds of tongue meeting tongue. He can see how the spit shines around Alec’s lips. Finally, Q draws the toy out in one unrelenting pull that has Alec moan into Bond’s mouth and pushes the head of his cock to the quivering hole. He has to jostle it in with his fingers because Alec is too tight to manage it any other way. He sees how the muscles on Alec’s middle go rigid - the outline of his abs becomes more prominent, and the long scar low on his ribs bunches up. 

“James,” Q calls as he sways his hips back, ending the torment just for now in favour of adding more lube. Bond looks at him. “Why don’t you suck some cock?”

“Should I suck you while this brute takes you apart, darling?” Bond murmurs. Q takes his boyfriend in - he's undressed to his underwear, and it’s black silk boxers today, bulging in the front obscenely. Bond, once territorial and jealous, is enjoying himself while Q is right here, about to fuck someone else.

Alec mumbles something to Bond, but it is too low for Q to discern the words. Bond grins and moves down Alec’s body. 

Q watches how Bond gives Alec’s length a couple of languid strokes and takes him to mouth without urgency. Q likes to watch the vulgar way James’ lips strained against the generous circumference. He gives in to an impulse and lowers his hand on the back of Bond’s head.

He pushes into Alec again, with less care this time, insistent and staring right at Alec who has his forearm thrown over his eyes.  

Halfway in, Alec puts a hand on Q’s thigh when he can reach it, pushing lightly with a strained sound. At about the same time, Bond takes him deep into his throat - Q looks, stunned, at how Bond manages to take almost all of Alec’s cock in and pulls back with a small gasp. While Alec is torn between shocking pleasure and hurt, Q proceeds, smiling at Bond, who stretches along Alec’s side and coaxes him into a kiss.

Q bottoms down and pulls back a bit to produce the tiniest friction - and Alec clenches around him with a grunt and puts a palm low on Q’s belly.

“Not yet,” he speaks in an awful, grave voice. Q is about to purr. 

“Alec,” he begins. “You think that to wait it out makes it easier. But it’s not. Let me do my thing, hm? At worse, you have to bear with me till I come.”  

Q tugs at the hand that's halting him and makes a couple more to-and-fro moves with his hips. Then he leans forward, and Alec’s hole, which's been like a vice, softens. Alec moans quietly, unsure.

“Here you are,” Bond chuckles, his hand playing with Alec’s cock.

“I’m going to hurt you,” Q warns before starting fuck him without any consideration whatsoever. Alec tries to dislodge him - but Q’s cock slams into his prostate once, twice, thrice, and resistance ceases with a loud, desperate moan.

“Fuck,” Bond huffs looking between their hips at Alec's cock that leaks fluid in outright strange amounts.

“Treasure, isn’t he?” Q says, struggling for breath. Under their heavy, cruel attention, Alec is still and slick with sweat, tense like a string drawn near its breaking point. Q feels the slow approach of his orgasm and picks up the pace.

“Shit,” Alec groans.

“Just a bit more,” Q mumbles into Trevelyan's mouth through a kiss that is more of a touch of lips and sharing of breaths. “I know you like it.”

“It’s a damn difficult feeling,” Alec laughs softly, squeezing the pillow frantically. The next moment, his mouth hangs open with a loud exhale tinted with a hint of moan. Q is mad from the awareness that he makes Alec like this. 

“Fuck,” Alec swears again, and his hips buck in a fruitless attempt to escape Q’s ruthless pushes. “I can’t anymore.”

Q's orgasm descends on him at the very moment Alec utters the last word. He let it clench his body in sweet paralysis and then, just as his hips twitch with uncontrollable spasms, moans his pleasure wantonly. He relaxes on Alec, batting Bond’s hand away first and kisses the corner of Trevelyan’s mouth. He catches Bond’s stare, which is brazenly ironic.

“Shut up, James,” he suggests, not resisting it when Bond extends his hand and ruffles Q’s hair. Then he turns his full attention back to Alec, who smiles at him weakly. His arms have already circled Q’s waist, and their lower ribs press into each other almost painfully.

“You have to let me go. I’ll kiss where it hurts.”

“It’s not, not when you stopped pounding in me,” Q is about to frown, but Alec slackens his hold. “But please, be my guest.”

Q gives him one very bloodthirsty smile.

“On your side, then.”

Q slides off Alec so he can turn to Bond. Bond hoists Alec’s leg over his hip at once and whispers something to Alec - once again too soft for Q to hear.

“No, stay,” Alec answers in his normal voice. “What you have these for?"

“Just pull them down.”

Q looks curiously at how Alec frees James’ cock. James sends him a quick glance, eyes of molten ice gleaming, and grins roguishly. They look hot together - unrelenting power, scarred skin, messed up hair touched with silver. Q doesn’t need to guess what exactly Bond will do with the hand that snakes between their bodies.

Q wastes no more time - parts Alec’s buttocks to expose his hole - stretched and pink from Q chasing his orgasm with so little consideration, licks over it just one time before dipping his tongue inside to Alec’s outright shocked gasp. Q grins and repeats the trick, with a firm swirl along muscle walls, hot and firm.

“Fucking hell, Q,” Alec groans and pushes his arse back with frantic eagerness to get more. Q tongue-fucks Trevelyan virgin, sore hole until it starts to clamp down on his tired tongue. Q hears Alec’s moan and Bond’s warm, satisfied rumble and licks along the cleft before sitting up. He’s rewarded with a view of Alec’s fingers clasped tightly around Bond’s cock, Alec’s semen all over James’ chest. Two men stare at each other, paying no mind to Q, while Alec brings Bond to orgasm and catches his mouth in an eager kiss.

It all calls for a brief clean-up, mostly courtesy of Q, who brings the hand towels and cleans all the consequences of pleasure away from Bond’s chest, while Bond does the same for Alec.  

When it’s taken care of, Q stretches on the messed bedding at the vacant place at Alec’s side. Alec blinks at him - it looks like he’s losing the fight with sleep.

“Good night, Alec,” Q says with a grin.

Trevelyan is asleep in a matter of a minute. Q moves up the mattress to have a better look at Bond.

They stare at each other for a few long moments. Q feels his lips forming a stupid, happy smile. Bond’s answering smile is full of soft irony.

“Do you realise you’re in love?” 

Q thinks he’s misheard.

“What?!” he asks, incredulous.

“It’s possible you’ve never been in love like this. You know, the normal way. But to me, it looks like you are now.”

The first impulse is to pronounce the sole possibility as utterly ridiculous and impossible. But Q stops it. From his respect for Bond - and because he knows that Bond has studied him well since their professional relationship turned into sexual. James knows what makes him tick better than anyone in the whole bloody world. Strange that he still hasn’t escaped screaming on some other continent or in Antarctica, but James’ preferences might be based on his need for and presence of an unhealthy dose of danger in his life, so there is that.

So, instead of angry backtalk, Q just hums.

“I can be without him just fine,” he notes because it’s the only weak spot Q can find. Alec’s recently been in a closed relationship, and Q considered him a friend.

“You can be alone in the world, and you still be fine, just maddeningly horny. You’ll be fine without me, too,” Bond counters.

Q extends his hand, palm up. James smiles, and his rough fingers encircle Q’s wrist with a tenderness that should be impossible. The tips of James’ fingers find a scar on Q’s forearm - from an open break he had an eternity ago - and rub at it.

“I don’t think so,” Q finally says softly, half-hoping Bond will not hear him. His hearing isn’t so good after all the buildings he’s blown up while inside or in the immediate vicinity of them.

The crow's feet that deepen in the corners of Bond’s eyes suggest that he’s heard Q perfectly well. But he doesn’t comment. He glows from happiness, and it’s another weird thing that Q can bring such emotions into somebody.

“And you’re alright with that?” Q asks after letting the quiet stretch between them some more. “I know you like your singularity.”

“It’s Alec,” Bond says as if it explains everything. Q curves an eyebrow at him. “You made him live the life he’d never have had.”

“And what, you’re willing to put up out of gratefulness?”

Bond scoffs.

“I won’t be putting up.” He spits the words as if they're venomous.

“No,” Q agrees. Pieces of the puzzle that is the relationship between these two men slide together easily. “You’ve never got over him completely, am I right?”

Bond's smile is wistful. Q doesn't need to hear the answer.

“Alright. I’ll think about it.” He promises. “Let’s sleep.”

“Wishes for breakfast?”

“Alec’s call. He’s just had his cherry popped.”

Bond muffles his laugh in a pillow.

“Morning sex?”

“Not in the morning. Have a knife ready.”

“Thought you’d ask,” Bond mumbles through a yawn and closes his eyes.

Q’s almost confessed his love to him, then - out loud. But he bites his lip, holding the words inside, and it’s almost worse - it feels as though all the space under his ribs is hollow, filled with frantic flutter of moths' wings. He has to remind himself to breathe and lowers his head to the pillow, willing sleep to come.

***

The breakfast is a rice porridge - sweet and cooked with milk, as if oatmeal and rice pudding had a baby. Q takes one look at it and demands a toast. Instead, Alec gives him white untoasted bread that is adorned with butter and sprinkled with sugar. Q stares at him.

“Have you lost your mind together with your virginity?”

“Try,” Alec insists.

Q indulges him and takes a bite. It’s surprisingly good. Butter married with white bread mixes into a silky, creamy substance and sugar gives it all a very pleasing crunch.

“It’s… better than most processed sweets.”

Alec looks disproportionally proud.

“Did you invent it?”

“No, it was actually a common dessert back in the Soviets.”

“And you know that’s how?”

“I was introduced to the cuisine. I lived there for two years in my teens, with all visits summed up. Exchange, sort of.”

“Ah. Well, no offence, but I need my wholegrain bread with leftover prawns. I’ll eat a bit of this as dessert. Your whole breakfast is dessert. It’s ridiculous.”

“I was told I can have a treat!”

“Well. That’s true,” Q smiles and leans to give Alec a quick kiss.

“Don’t you need to work?” Bond pipes in while he’s constructing what Q has just demanded.

“Don’t you two?”

“Retired,” Bond says merrily.

“Can’t go undercover anymore and wait until there’s something for my skill set.”

“Like fucking bodyguarding?”

“No, I most likely will fly to Kongo in three days. Russian mercenaries all over the place.”

“I’ll eat and go up to do some work. Have no plans to stop until well into the night.”

Bond bends an eyebrow.

“I’ll ask.” Q answers an unspoken question. He works in collaboration with the CIA now, and he’s sure he’ll be seeing red in three hours.

“Does that mean we are to stay?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes.”

Q nods and stands up, taking his coffee with him.

Не reaches to pinch the buttered bread he’d bitten earlier from the plate, but Bond smacks his hand away.

“We’ll bring the plate of these up to you.”

“So I’m rabid from sugar?”

“Yes. You’ve lost some weight again.”

For some reason, Q looks down as if trying to see his ribs through his baggy shirt. He can’t, but he knows Bond’s right and nods with his mouth twisted in displeasure.

Just as he predicted, he wants to destroy something after less than three hours. He folds in two and groans as he bangs his forehead against the table a couple of times.

He sits like that for a while, checking if a restless itch subsides at least a bit. It’s not. It's probably all the sugar. He stands, goes to the door, and calls Bond’s name.

After several minutes, James appears in the doorway, looks at Q, and hums. “Bathroom?”

“No, here.”

Bond inclines his head and is gone again, returning moments later with his hands full. He lines up the items on the edge of Q’s working table - a knife, sterile wipes, gauze, and a glass of water, which he places pointedly in front of Q. Q drinks it up, hits several keys and stares at the screens go black.

Q stands, strips off his shirt, and tosses it onto the chair, moving to stand before a mirror. Bond follows closely, his footsteps silent—Q only knows he's there by the looming reflection.

Q looks down, but Bond's hands are behind his back. Q can’t draw his eyes from the reflection to check if the knife is still on the table - by the sharpness of James’ eyes, he knows he’d be stopped if he tried.

“Have something particular in mind?”

Q nods.

“My neck. As if you wanted to cut my throat,” he rasps. Just saying it makes his cock swell slowly.

There is a flicker of doubt on Bond’s face. His lips part, and his eyes burrow into Q’s. Q expects resistance. He has counterarguments ready. Bond knows the exact amount of pressure that needs to be applied to make it deadly. It’s not a lot, but it’s also not too little. Q would live even if Bond’s hand twitched in the most unfortunate moment, close to the jugular.

“You’ll have difficulty hiding it,” James says instead.

A chuckle escapes Q’s lips; he can’t help it.

“My problem, not yours.”

“Mine is that, then - you’re not suicidal, are you, love?”

“No, I’m in my right mind, safe and sound.”

“I shall take your word for that,” Bond smirks, and proprietary hand burns Q’s belly. He forces Q to huddle back into his chest.

“Start with something lighter, maybe?” Bond half-whispers against Q’s ear. In the reflection, blue eyes run over Q’s body with a focus so intense it feels like a touch. Now, Q can see what James talked about earlier—the contours of ribs pulling at his skin from the inside.

“Whatever pleases you.”

Bond exhales a soft chuckle that tickles at Q’s neck.

The blade digs into Q’s skin just below his clavicle. James moved his hand so fast that Q, in his far too relaxed state, failed to predict it. The consequence is a deep shudder and the need to bite his lip so the yelp of surprise stays inside.

The drag of the blade is light but unrelenting and ceaseless - only when the full length of the bone is underlined does Bond stop, making a deeper indent in the end.

Q exhales the breath he’s held all the while the blade travels over his skin. He touches his finger to a bead of blood. His skin buzzes with pain, and his head is spinning with bright vertigo of a sudden spike in adrenaline. His body feels too small and inefficient to contain all that boils under the skin.

His fingers shake when he brings them to Bond’s lips. Bond bites the tips, then licks obligingly.

“One more. Deeper,” Q demands. He doesn’t try to keep the trembling of himself contained. 

“Will be hell to heal. Skin moves every time you move your arm.”

“I don’t care.”

James smiles and brings the blade several inches lower than he did before. Pain shots up Q’s shoulder and down his arm, and he gasps, watching, enchanted, how skin parts and red flow down his chest freely. He’s hot and wet and hard but resists the urge to push Bond’s hand down and just claws at his fingers, sticking his arse back to feel Bond’s cock.  

It’s like the approximation of bone structure hidden just beneath. The lower cut pulses viciously with rich agony. The blood flows freely down the side of Q’s chest.

“Now, you have to keep very still,” Bond murmurs.

The sharp metal punctures the skin under Q’s ear, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep, measured breath. Bond doesn’t dare to go deep - Q feels more a promise of pain than the pain itself. He tries to lean towards the blade, but Bond draws his hand back immediately and gives Q’s cheek a slight slap.

“Don’t be an idiot. I know when I can push harder. Not you,” Bond scolds, with real actual anger. Bond is rarely angry these days. His ire makes Q melt. Q moans, abandoning any dignity he’s left and pulling at Bond’s hand for him to return it on his belly and lower still, in his pants.

“Alright,” Bond says, returning the blade to the spot with unerring precision.

Just as it passes carotid, where Q’s pulse is rabbiting in a maddening ecstasy, Bond sinks the blade deeper. Q moans and claws at James’ side and bucks his hips forward so his cock slides against Bond’s fingers.

“Shush,” Bond huffs a soft reprimand. “Gently.”

Q sways his hips with small pitiful sounds while James slowly draws a red smile on his neck.

“Good boy,” Bond coos to a growl rumbling through Q’s body. “Look at yourself.”

Q realises his eyes are closed. He opens them and is met with the vision of himself - eyes shining with wild, fervent light, chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand clawing at Bond’s wrist so hard and careless there are several scrapes left on his lover’s skin.

“Lovely,” James continues praising, knowing he’ll get away with it. He reaches the carotid again and stops without taking the blade away from the skin. The pause sparkles with tension, and its sheer voltage steals Q’s breath away. He stares at Bond’s eyes in the mirror. Bond holds his gaze unblinkingly, reptilian-like. Q loses his sharp awareness of the blade at his neck just for a moment, distracted by those eyes, and Bond takes advantage of it, yanking the blade up the rest of the way, fast and vicious, forcing a short, sharp cry to escape from Q’s lips.

Bond tosses the knife to the side and licks a wet stripe up Q’s neck, and Q feels how the tip of his tongue intrudes, parts the damaged skin and touches the damp and warm flesh inside. Q pushes into his hand and comes with a muffled cry.

“Holy fuck,” Q mumbles as soon as he can. His limbs feel leaden - the upright position of his body is courtesy of Bond. This episode of their unsafe sex life invites gratitude. Praise, at the very least. But Bond moves on faster than Q can force any out of himself. 

“I’ll clean you and leave to your things.”

“Good,” Q exhales to the man’s chuckle.

Firstly, Bond leaves to wash his hands, then sees to Q’s neck and clavicle.

“Where’s Alec?” Q mumbles while Bond cleans the blood away.

"What do you think?"

It's not hard to guess. "Reading?"

Bond nods with a smirk.

When Bond’s done, he kisses Q on the nose before holding the shirt open for him.

“Don’t button it up. The second one will probably continue bleeding and need a bondage.”

“Alright. Thank you, James.” He slips into the shirt and, feeling generous, hugs the man.

Bond has the decency to refrain from ironic comments. He pats Q’s bottom.

“I’ll make you tea and something to eat. Shall I send it up with Alec?”

“Please,” Q nods.

Work goes smoothly after that.

At some point, a tray is slid on the table in front of Q. Q turns his head to see Alec, who is staring at his neck. Alec is ruffled - blond hair sticking out in all possible directions, two days' worth of stubble on his cheeks and just Bond’s sweatpants for clothes.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Alec answers with a displeased frown. “I wear no knickers, for once.”

It’s so unexpected that Q snickers stupidly, and Alec’s expression eases.

“What’s you’re at?”

“Help CIA perform unconstitutional acts against their citizens. Thankless business.”

“I’ve no doubt. Are you here for long?”

“Till the night, I’ve said already.”

“Do you expect me to get out?”

Q hums. He stands up, turns and beckons Alec to him. Alec’s hands slide around his waist under an unbuttoned shirt.

He studies Bond’s handiwork under Q’s clavicle.

“What if we have you today once more? Will you let Bond fuck you?”

“And if not, you’ll tell me to go away?”

“Both of you.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Alec allows with a little laugh before he lapses into musing. 

Q waits. He estimates the odds as 50/50. Alec, like most Double-Ohs, is too curious for his own good. He clearly didn’t find the happenings of the last night increasingly uncomfortable. Q has him intrigued, and it’s as good as a win.

“What will you do? Watch?” Alec asks.

“I can watch. Or. You can fuck me while Bond fucks you.” Q catches that flicker of excitement in Alec’s expression and grins. “Like the idea a little better already?” he teases.

"Maybe. But it may feel more than a little bit rough."

"Bond isn't me. He can be gentle. In fact, I think he'd pamper the hell out of you. I don't abide the coddling, and can imagine he's a little desperate for it," Q shakes his head from realisation.

Alec stays. Bond uses his fingers to work him open slowly - Alec meets the initial intrusion with a wince, but James' doesn't care about building momentum and just plays with Alec's hole with one finger, palming at his balls distractedly every now and then.

Q is settled on the armchair, which is usually Bond's vouyer spot.  

He tucks his smirk into the palm of his hand when he sees Trevelyan warming up to Bond's succour.

"A bit more?" Bond murmurs as he bends to nuzzle Alec's reluctantly stiffening cock with his mouth.

"Yeah, should be alright," Alec agrees a little hoarsely.

Bond works him thoroughly until the man is a babbling mess stupid from pleasure. Alec's thick cock is shiny and leaking. Bond doesn't skimp on lube, and every now and then, the dirty, wet squelch is heard when he pushes his fingers deep into Alec's hole.  

Q shoves his under the waistband of his bottoms to palm himself. He would never ever allow to do something like that with himself, but he likes to watch James fingering his best friend stupid.

"Need to come, baby?" Bond all but purrs after a time and kneads Alec's balls on his palm, making the man hiss.

"No, better wait for a cock," Alec replies, wiggling his hips. "I think we're good to go, Jimmy."

Bond pauses all his movements for a few moments and fixes Alec with his gaze. His mouth smiles cruelly. "Ask," he demands in a quiet, low voice, and Q groans from the ruthless rush of white-hot desire that this one word incites.

"Fuck me, bastard," Alec demands with no hesitation whatsoever and Bond's smile is feral.

"With pleasure," he says, and both Q and Alec observe James rolling the condom on and slicking it with lube before fitting it against Alec's hole.

"Ah fuck," Trevelyan grunts immediately after Bond moves his hips forward. "Fuck."

The first few pushes Bond makes are long and drawn-out, and they force air out of Alec's lungs, together with involuntary grunting moans.

Q wets his lower lip. He jerks himself off in earnest now, dry and painful. He's almost jealous and nearly asks Bond to hold it so Q can ride him after - but magnanimously wills himself now to be such a greedy bastard.

Bond settles on shallow thrusts, denying Alec quick release and plays with his slightly softened cock idly.

"You need to fuck me someday," he says.

"Mmm," Alec agrees mutely as he starts doing a little flex his hips that raises his arse off the bed and towards Bond's thrusts. It compels Bond to quicken just a fraction.

Q quickens the pace of his hand. When Alec shifts his eyes to him, he bites his mouth against the moan.

"C'mere, grachonok," Alec offers, and Q gravitates towards the bed and perches on the edge of the mattress. Alec smirks. "Closer. Want to suck you."

Q sheds his clothes and climbs to sit with his back to the headboard, legs spread wide to accommodate Alec's form between them. Alec cushions his cheek in a pale bend between Q's hip and thigh.

"Like to have your hole fucked?" Q grins and lets Alec's mouth on the side of his cock.

"It's good," Alec admits. His voice is rough and muffled, and he barely distracts from sucking at the head of Q's cock. "No offence, but I find the way he fucks preferable."

"I thought that you would," Q laughs. "None taken. I'll share," he grins at James.

Bond snaps his hips forward suddenly and squeezes the base of Alec's cock, and Alec's expression is everything.

"Bastard. Do it again."

Bond obliges him, still squeezing his cock against the orgasm. Alec growls around a mouthful of Q's dick.

Q fixes his eyes on Bond, who is intense, glassy-eyed, and practically vibrating from the effort to postpone the pleasure.

"Give it to him, James."

Bond releases Alec's cock and tugs at it just a couple of times, together with fucking into Alec in powerful thrusts that have their skin slapping with a sharp sound.

"Shit," Alec gasps and claws at Q's flank desperately as his eyes roll back into his head. Q glances down just in time to see how his hips jerk and he's spurring come all over himself, belly and chest.

Bond shudders with his release immediately after and stops burying himself deep inside Alec. Q curses and comes against Alec's inviting half-open mouth.

"You've a wonderful little hole," Bond murmurs as he bends down to lick at Alec's lips, tasting Q on him.

Q observes as his skin buzzes from pleasure-high. It's satisfying not only on a physical but also on an emotional level - it terrifies him a great deal.

He feels Bond's fingers close around his throat in a painful caress against the fresh cut. Q blinks at the man. He decides now's not the time to fret.

"Can we keep him?" He asks in a soft murmur, only half-joking.

"No objections from me, love," Bond answers with a smile.

Chapter Text

Q wants to say things, but decides against it. Alec receives his assignment and leaves for Africa. Bond decides to pay visit to Tilly in France.

“Maybe you want to go with me?” He asks the day prior to his departure.

“What, to live with your ex?” Q laughs, finding the proposition outright ridiculous.

“We can book some stupidly lavish suite. Buy you some decent clothes at Champs Elysees. We’ve never travelled together, and it’s what couples do.”

“I’m not interested in what couples do. Your child wants to go to Disneyland, and you need me to ease the blow.”

“This, too.” Bond agrees easily. “And she wants you with us in Disneyland.”

“She said that?”

“Yes. Why you’re surprised? Sometimes I think she loves you more than me,” Bond grouses with genuine hurt.

Q agrees, but with the condition that for the last couple of days, they’ll do what Q wants.

So Q visits Paris after a lengthy period of avoiding the city. It’s as beautiful and as disgusting as ever—the tents of homeless people, the swarms of tourists assaulting the Louvre and Montmartre, the thieves snaking their way through the crowds. But the weeping willows dip their delicate limbs into the Seine, Père Lachaise still grants a quiet reprieve, and Q discovers he can still find a boy to amuse himself for the night at his usual hunting spot on the Sorbonne campus. The food is still criminally good if you’re smart enough to avoid anything with an English menu advertised. The limestone of the buildings still reflects the light, making the city shine, eternal, indifferent to homeless people, tourists, and thieves.

Even Disneyland is fun - Q has never been on a roller coaster and couldn’t imagine it'd be so stimulating. He and Tilly screamed themselves hoarse. Bond took far too many pictures of Q that threaten Q’s meticulously constructed image of a selfish, cruel bastard.

“It’s strange. You shift into such a lovely guy in the presence of a child.”

“Well, children do not possess the many faults of adults. I have no choice but to be nice. It’s exhausting, to be honest.”

Mathilde stays the night - she and Q have built a fort for her in the living area of their suite. The girl retired inside of it for the night, and the adults decided it was better to keep to abstinence one night.

“Rest, then. You deserved it.”

“Oh, I deserved much more than a good night's sleep. But you’ll pay your debt in several days.”

The next day, they embark on a shopping spree, primarily focusing on selecting outfits for Mathilde and Q. It's clear that Tilly has inherited her father's particularity about clothing. Q, who is not interested in fashion, tries on various pieces of fabric he can’t fully appreciate and lets his companions decide if they fit him well. The fitting rooms in all the stores are enormous, leaving Q to regret, perhaps for the first time, that they have a child with them. 

In the last days, James and Q mostly stay inside, drink and have sex - it’s what Q wants to do, stay inside and fuck on expensive sheets and with a view of Arc du Triumph. The day spent only in pursuit of carnal pleasure is a rare treat for Q. He often uses sex as a means to an end to blow off steam and rein in his emotions - it brings relief, but not much in terms of pleasure. When he fucks for pleasure, he often has no patience to keep it long. He often has no time either - he juggles many projects, some in his official line of work, some rather grey, and some outright black. Frequently, by the end of a long day, he doesn’t need sex for pleasure. He just needs it to make his brain shut up.

Now, taken away from work, he can indulge in it fully. He can quickly satisfy his first hungry desire in the shower even before breakfast, and be all set for a long day of frivolous self-indulgence.

Bond can’t keep it up quite that much, not even because his dick doesn’t get hard - it does, though, with more effort from Q’s side. Mostly, Bond just gets lazy.

So by the evening of the second day, he throws a white towel after Q hungrily and mercilessly gets the third orgasm out of him - and Q’s investments come into play.

“I’ve met one guy. I’m pretty sure he’ll be willing to pay us a visit and won’t be against you ogling.”

“Okay. When did you have time?” Bond wonders, tracing gentle circles on Q's back.

“While you were having dinner with Madeleine and Tilly. I don't need much time for that.”

Bond smirks. “Do your worst. I can go elsewhere.”

“But I want you here. It’s so much more fun,” Q insists as he reaches for the phone and starts typing the message to the guy.

“You just like to squeeze emotions out of me.”

“I do, admittedly.”

Within an hour, the guy - Este, with dark coarse curls, a scar crossing plush upper lip and eyes of muddled green - is up in their suite, as if he's been waiting for Q to summon him. He looks around and whistles.

Bond chuckles from where he mixes the drinks.

“And this is your daddy?” Este's voice holds an unmistakable sneer. Q hasn’t presented himself as somebody in need of one. And this one sees no appeal in somebody’s kept boy. Which suits Q perfectly. 

Bond laughs, though uttering no words, leaving explanations to Q. Who gestures for Este to sit on the couch before coming to take drinks from Bond. He settles beside the guy a moment later. 

“He pays for all this excess," Q starts as he offers one glass to Este, "but that’s because it’s his whim to waste money on redundancies. I wouldn’t call him that. I don’t have such inclinations and provide for myself.”

“Boyfriend, then?” 

Q takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Este's.

“Let's call it partner? He’s hardly a boy.”

“You didn’t say anything about your partner.”

“You didn’t ask. I’m sure you’re not against it.”

Este looks at Q with a pensive little frown. Q sees him calculating. “And does he have a name?”

If Q brings someone in, they don’t use their real names, though Q always uses Frederic - his second name. Bond tends to oscillate between several aliases - they’re free to concoct a legend on a whim, for Q never samples boys like this for the second time. Until now, the conversation went on in English - which is presumed to be for Bond’s benefit since Q speaks with a French accent almost as heavy as their guest’s. Bond draws a correct conclusion from this.

“Anthony, my dear,” Bond murmurs in his squeaky clean American English.

Este looks at him, absolutely unimpressed. “Does Antoine speak French?” he addresses Q. In French, obviously.

“Don’t be rude,” Q reproves with a smirk instead of an answer, sticking to English. “Expect him to be around at all times. But he won’t touch you without you asking for that.”

“You will touch me, I hope,” Este's smile shifts into something more indecent. 

“Sure. As soon as we finish those. No kisses, no lingering after, you stretch your butt yourself till the level you find comfortable because I don’t stop once I start.”

The guy raises an eyebrow.

“Why you fuck me?”

“Anthony here doesn’t take well to sharing my hole. But we can switch on the second go if you’re good.”

“Should I comment on an obvious contradiction?”

“No. By this moment, you should strip.”

Dear Este turns out to be Universe’s recompense to Q for all the hardships he endured with Rahim. He has a way with words - Q is rather enchanted by the vicious French dirty talk, and he's a bossy bottom, so the whole encounter is an entertaining push and pull filled with a challenge. Este kneads Q’s arse and forces him to drive his cock deeper; he finger-fucks Q’s hole when Q puts his cock into his mouth, and he curses when Q has him from behind, and there’s nothing more for purchase except the words because Q is beyond his reach.

“You sure ‘bout kisses?” Este heaves when Q switch from pounding to swaying for the third time, not letting climax both of them.

“Yes. Tony can be available for that.”

He has to crane his neck to look at where Bond is sitting. He wonders if Este is even aware of Bond's presence in the room. Q is—he feels Bond’s stare like fingers clenching at the back of his neck.

Q doesn’t turn to watch the silent exchange, but he knows when it ends. Bond steps to the side of the bed with his stealthy tread and unfolds his body on the mattress beside Este, who has his head hanging between his arms.

Bond doesn’t touch him. He remains very particular about consent when it’s not Q, so he just lies there and waits with his smirking mouth and cockish disposition. 

Q moves his hips not faster but more forcefully to spur Esteban to action. It has a desirable effect - for an initially tentative approach, two men merge further in a kiss with ardour. Q hears the unmistakable clank of teeth hitting the teeth - Este has gotten lubberly in his fervour - and a following chuckle from Bond, who holds their guest under his chin and sucks at his lower lip.  

Q can feel when the boy under him is about to come - with his cock, and can see it in the way he claws at Bond’s shoulder, with a kind of abandon hinting at a complete switch-off of the brain.

“Hold it,” Q says because he’s a bastard, and he stops for a good measure despite his own body screaming at him to continue his thrusts. 

The sound Este makes isn’t human.

“Shit, please, please,” he mumbles into Bond’s neck. James grins at Q, his hand kneading the back of the boy’s neck comfortingly.

Q lets himself go, and his hips move of their own accord, his body chases its high without much input from the mind - Q just relaxes and allows the feeling to swipe him away with a wave of hot pleasure. For all his mouthiness, Este under him comes absolutely silent - shakes with it with his whole body and groans only when he crashes onto the bed beside Bond.

“Fuck, man,” he heaves as he looks up at Q, who ties the condom and tosses it on the floor.

“How’s Tony?” Q asks.

Este blinks several times and looks at Bond. 

“He has a way with his tongue,” he allows and manages to sound almost coy after all the filth he was spewing on just recently. 

“You can ask his permission to fuck me. If you’re interested,” Q’s offer causes an immediate reaction in the form of an edgy stare from Bond.

Este looks like he’s weighing his desires against his possible risks. Q waits.

“You’ve no way refusing him anyway, yes?” He asks Bond.

“Him? No. But I can say you don’t do it just fine.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Fuck him, I mean.”

“I'm an old man.”

Este looks at Bond’s middle. Q follows suit. Bond at least half-hard. He loves looking at how Q takes apart other boys. It helps that this one has the right amount of brashness in him.

Then something happens that Q couldn’t have expected in his most lascivious dreams. Este lifts his head again and locks eyes with Bond. He then looks back at Q, his eyes sparkling with a blatant challenge.

“Can you take two cocks at once?” Este asks. Q has to take a look at the guy’s cock. He didn’t pay it much mind. It’s long and slim.

“Yes,” he nods. It's a pure, electrifying silence for a moment. “What do they teach you in those Sorbonne auditoriums?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No. Harvard. They’re prudes there.”

“You aren’t.”

“No,” Q licks his lips and looks at Bond. 

“I was supposed to do nothing,” Bond grouses.

“I just need your cock, Tony. Would you tolerate me being used by somebody when you use me at the exact same moment?”

Bond sees the appeal. Q can read it in his eyes. They’ve never done it. “I think I can cope, yes.”

Q has to concede and let Bond stretch him until his four fingers can force the way into Q with moderate difficulty. 

“Down,” he commands Bond. 

He lines up Bond’s dick and breathes out a soft moan as it sinks in all the way, unrelenting. Q looks back at Este.

“Come on. All in, don’t stop.”

“Sure?” The guy smirks; one of his hands lands on Q’s hip, and another pushes between his shoulder blades. 

Q doesn’t grace it with an answer.

“Holy…” he laughs instead when he feels the second hard dick delving inside. He doesn’t allow his body to contract the muscles against pain, cramping the bedding under his hand. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Este echoes his curse, stops, pulls back and pushes in again with sharper friction.

Q outright moans.

He fucked with two dicks at once in counterpoint. Q didn’t expect Bond to move, but the man does, holding Q by his hips still and steady. Q would squirm if not for Bond’s dead grip. The stretch is overwhelming. Bond’s dick hitting his prostate. Este biting his neck and his shoulders - it’s not tender love bites; he tears the skin with his canines and rumbles the litany of filthy French into Q’s skin. Below, Bond’s eyes ablaze with jealousy, and Q grins at him, running his tongue over the edge of his teeth. 

Q screams himself hoarse. Bond finishes first, though Q half-expected he won’t be able to at all - but to witness Q taken apart like this, see him almost incoherent from brutal pleasure, apparently does that to him. Este moans and freezes with cock shoved deep inside Q five minutes later. Q is tossed onto his back, and his cock is engulfed in warmth and wetness. He raises himself on his elbows and looks at how the boy’s full, bitten lips stretch around him. 

There must be blood on those lips. The two - Bond and Este - reached over Q’s shoulder to kiss and it got out of control. Bond sank his teeth into the boy’s lip. 

Q finishes into the warmth of the mouth, holding Este in place by the dark curls, who closes his eyes and hums and swallows greedily.

“Pig,” Q goads, giving his cheek a light slap. He squeezes fingers on the guy’s chin and forces him off his cock. 

The guy grins. Spits on Q’s belly, half-saliva and half-blood.

“Whore,” he replies, smearing the mess over Q’s skin.

Bond’s already gone from the room, but Q doesn’t concern himself with it too much. He fumbles blindly over the nightstand for his pack of cigarettes and puts one between his lips as soon as he finds it. He offers the open pack to Este, and he takes one too. 

“Dinner preferences?” Bond asks from the doorway before they both step out on the balcony - Este in his hastily donned jeans and Q in his robe.

“Mmm. Mussels.”

“You, dear?” Bond directs his gaze to Este.

“Me?” the guy asks incredulously.

“It’s only polite,” Bond answers with a charming grin and elegant shoulder shrug. A slick bastard, he irritates even Q now.

“Whatever. I eat everything. Mussels are good.”

“Splendid.”

On the balcony, they smoke silently - Q appreciates this Este has no need to run his mouth much. He only frowns slightly after the first inhale of smoke, probably surprised by the tobacco’s unexpected heaviness. They smoke, gazing out at the night city sprawling below - chiaroscuro of night and city lights, cars hugging the roundabout where the Arch stands, prevalent and solemn.

“Don't you find him a little annoying?” Este wonders when he burns his sig to the filter, finishing much faster than Q, who’s savouring it.

“Tony? All the time. It’s his way to annoy people,” Q laughs because the truth about Bond is so apparent it seems to invade all his guises.

Este’s sole reaction to this is a soft hum. Q smirks, finishes smoking, and slips past him to the door.

“What’s your PhD about, by the way?” He asks idly while the three of them wait for food to arrive.

“Hegelian philosophy, The End of Art and how art still doesn't have any intention to end. Contemporary art forms and how they align with Hegel’s views. That sort of thing.”

“Philosopher?” Q snorts, though good-naturedly. “You fuck like a Law student.”

“Law is not that far from Philosophy.”

“Yeah, just a world away from ethics. Hegel, though?” Q sends the guy a sour look.

“Empiricist, are you?”

“Mm. Don’t give a fuck about philosophy, but Logical Positivism would have been my thing if I’d cared.”

“Freddy is terribly unromantic to care about such things.” Bond interjects with a smirk.

“Yeah. I’m not sick enough to care about Sartre like you,” Q answers harshly but reaches to push at Bond’s knee with a touch of affection.

They demolish a lot of mussels and two garlicky baguettes - Bond doesn’t participate, opting for the beef and eating it with knife and fork, daintily and civilised, while Q and Este use their hands. After that, they share a bottle of wine, and with that, the evening concludes. Este goes in search of his clothes, and Bond calls down to reception to order him a taxi.

When he’s at it, he catches Q staring and winks at him with naughtily gleaming eyes. 

“Please. Don’t look so smug,” Q scoffs. 

As expected, it has no effect. Of anything, Bond looks only more full of himself.

***

“You did great yesterday,” Q murmurs as his lips brush against Bond’s. The weather outside is horrendous today - the wind has been picking up since sunrise, and now, the tops of elms and plane trees bow against its oppression.

A perfect day to stay between the sheets and drink champagne.

That’s precisely what they’re doing, only livening up the plain champagne with a little cognac and sugar syrup. Q is as appreciative of James’ functional alcoholism as ever.

“I feel ‘but’,” James twinkles with his eyes.

“But now you have to do great today,” Q beams.

“You have another eager PhD student hidden somewhere?” Bond looks around as if he expects such a person to appear. Q allocates a small smile in response to his partner’s theatrics.

“No. Something else,” Q puts a small zip bag on the tray between their glasses. Inside is a single blue pill. Bond looks at him wonderingly. Q expects a swear of three to be thrown at him, but all Bond does is laugh, albeit tersely.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Sildenafil, yes,” Q nods. “I know you don’t have anything close to ED. But four hours of sex is four hours of sex.”

“You know I won’t enjoy it. It grants a forever hard-on, not unlimited orgasms. Quite the contrary.”

“Well, I didn’t enjoy the shopping,” Q takes a sip from his glass.

With his free hand, Q touches his palm to Bond’s knee and gives a soft caress to his thigh. His fingers snake under the silk of the boxers deep, racking the cool fabric up until Q can reach the soft spot of skin in the fold between his thigh and hip.

It’s still early. The room service with their breakfast was up too soon, and they didn’t have time for a quick fumble. Q pushes his hand even deeper, and he can rub his thumb over the raphe line on Bond's balls. He sees how Bond’s dick starts filling under the fabric. James, being his stubborn self, takes a deep inhale and does everything in his power to look unaffected and generally unimpressed.

“I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” Q compels him. “Promise not to treat you like my human dildo.”

“Promise, hm?” Bond smirks and catches Q’s nimble limb by the wrist. He doesn’t push it away but presses at a couple of points, and Q’s fingers go numb and useless.

Q bares his teeth in a semblance of a smile.

“Yes.”

“How about that, then - I’ll take it, but you’re to come only after me and only as many times as me.”

It’s a challenge - viagra is known to decrease penile sensitivity. With Bond hard, slightly numb and able to take it long, it’ll be a session of torturous edging.

Q is sure he loves James Bond in such moments when he proves himself the cunning, cruel bastard he is.

“Deal,” Q nods and twists a hand from Bond’s hold.

Q observes with amusement as Bond washes the pill down with a drink from the champagne bottle, swipes a pack of smokes from the vanity and ambles off to the terrace.

Bond steps behind him when Q inhales his first lungful of rich, heavy smoke. He doesn’t touch, just stands there, mere inches away, radiating warmth and complacency. Q blows the smoke up in the air and leans back into the sureness of Bond’s chest.

Bond’s lips do a louche, slow brush along Q’s jaw. When Q inclines his head to the side for more, Bond pursues the faint imprint of an almost healed cut on the pale neck.

Q takes another drag. Bond forces him to turn his head with a firm grip on Q’s chin and captures his mouth. Q exhales the smoke into the kiss, making it suffocating in more sense than one. Bond’s tongue is greedy; it’s lapping around the soft cavity of Q’s mouth, chasing the rich bitterness of smoke mingling with an aftertaste of alcohol.

“We may as well start,” Bond murmurs into Q’s mouth as he shifts the silk of the robe aside to have unimpeded access to Q’s bottom. He presumes that Q has had enough consideration to make himself ready. That’s why he pushes into him without even checking.

The irruption is harsh. Q leans on the railing with his free hand before looking back at Bond, his laugh hidden in the corners of his eyes, the half-smoked cigarette tucked between unsmiling lips.

“Let me fucking finish a cig, will you?” Q mumbles.

“Your mouth is free, darling. So please do. I’ll have you suck my cock at the point when I’ll be sure there’s almost no chance of me having another orgasm.”

Q grins and exhales smoke through his nostrils. Bond drives cock into him, slow and deep, and Q barely manages to catch a cigarette when his mouth hangs open with a filthy moan.

***

That day, Bond proves he can be worse than Satan if he sets his heart to it.

What follows is an almost four-hour-long sex marathon with only five orgasms between them two. And it’s Bond who has three of them, not Q.

He goes rogue immediately - chases his first using Q’s arse and makes Q ride him, depriving him of his cock every time he sees Q close. Q tries to jerk himself off, spewing contempt for Bond's methods, but Bond just twists his hands behind his back.

In an hour, Bond didn’t get any softer - because he’s on Viagra, and, oh, he’s aroused by rendering Q into inhuman desperation.

Half an hour more, and he lets Q have it - it’s not pleasant anymore because everything in Q burned down with need, and all flames long since turned to ashes. Q must be looking at him with pure hate.

“We made a deal, love,” Bond reminds sweetly, brushing wet hair from Q’s forehead. “Now, how about you suck me?”

“Suck yourself.”

Bond can force him to do it. Q knew it in theory. Soon, he knows in practice - Bond really can overdominate him, all kicking and biting - he high-mounts Q, the bulk of muscles high on his chest, knees tucked into Q’s armpits. Q tries to push at his belly, but it’s a mistake - he gets Bond’s forearm pressed across his neck.

Fucking jiu-jitsu.

Q huffs and jerks, testing. There is no way to dislodge Bond by bucking the hips up - he’s too high, and there’s a risk that even if the manoeuvre is successful, Q’s windpipe will get crushed or his shoulder dislocated.

Bond forces Q’s hands up and pins them to the floor over his head.  

“Take it,” he grunts. His cock almost at Q’s lips, but not quite. Q has to raise his head from the floor, straining his neck and shoulders.

Bond fucks his mouth like that. It’s awe-inspiring that the man can stretch his hips so wide still - they’re almost in a middle-split position.

Bond is ruthless with his thrusts - Q can barely breathe, and he keeps choking on the cock as it sneaks its tip into his throat. Bond has him like that for a stretch of time that feels too long but can’t be more than fifteen minutes. Then, Q taps out of this particular fight.

“But I’m nowhere near close,” he says when Q taps the floor with an open palm. But recedes nonetheless, freeing Q’s hands and sitting back on top of his chest.

Q gulps for air greedily. When Bond relaxed, he should be able to dislodge him from above, but his eyes must be too telling with the desire for immediate retribution.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bond warns. “I might hurt you accidentally.”

“Bastard,” Q laughs. He’s angry, but more than that, he’s excited. “God, my throat hurts.”

“Darling, we’ve only just begun,” Bond gives him a beaming smile. “Come. Lie down on the bed,  I’ll suck you too.”

Q flops onto his back, the mattress gives a little bounce back, and strokes Bond's thighs when the man straddles his face.

When Bond stretches down Q’s body and licks at the head, Q can’t control the jerk of his hips. He’s saved from the embarrassment of whining only because James’ cock occupies his mouth.

“Sensitive?” Bond tuts. “I’ll eat you out instead.”

“No, don’t show mercy to me now; you’ve started so well,” Q goads with a little wiggle of his hips. He yelps when Bond gives him a firm suck.

“No mercy. I just prefer your hole to your cock,” Bond tucks a pillow under Q’s hips and forces him to bend one knee to the chest.

Q has to work with his mouth for almost an hour for the result. Again - he can’t escape from under Bond because the man has him locked. Q can bite and scratch, and he does, but Bond has been tortured on multiple occasions. He laughs at Q’s attempts and then holds the cock in his throat in the way of revenge.

“Bond, I can’t. Jaw cramps, and as much I hate you now, I’m fond of your cock. I don’t want to bite it off.”

James distracts from licking all over his balls, taint and hole and raises himself up a bit to look at Q between their bodies.

“Tilt your head back. Relax the jaw. I taught you how to do it, didn’t I?” He smiles charmingly.

“Shit,” Q sighs as he closes his eyes for a moment. He does as he is told, making a point of looking most resigned.

“Just go with the flow,” Bond soothes.

“Just don’t make me puke,” Q answers with a laugh and lets his mouth fall open.

It’s a blessing that Bond is very close and fired up by Q being so supine and agreeable. He puts his hard-on as deep as it goes till Q's nose is smashed into his pubic bone, and Q’s throat convulses against the intrusion, not willing to accommodate it at all. Bond groans his pleasure every time Q gags. Q can’t blame him because he knows the feeling, it’s fucking heavenly. Q can’t figure out how to breathe in this frenzy, with Bond pounding into his mouth with abandon, and he claws at the sheets and Bond’s side in panic he can’t fully feel with his brain - it’s his body’s reaction.

“Through your nose,” Bond growls as his pace only quickens. He’s close. He will not stop even if Q won’t start taking some air into his lungs. Q moans - somewhere in his throat and manages to take a small breath before he gags again because Bond is smashing his cock as deep as humanly possible and comes down his throat with a moan.

The feeling is the strangest shit Q has experienced. He gags again, of course, and it has Bond extricating himself a bit into a more permissible place in Q’s mouth. From there, Q shoves him off himself and scrambles to sit.

Bond doesn’t let him stand. He catches his wrist and pulls Q over himself.

“Swallow,” he demands with a sweet smile.

Q raises his brows mutely.

“Come on. You’ve just ingested half of it. It’s mixed with saliva so much it shouldn’t be that thick.”

Q can just spit it right on the bed. Bond has it coming. But the problem is - he’s curious himself. He’s just had his throat rough-fucked. It’s one of the few things he wasn’t proficient with. Sure, Bond explained to him mechanics and inserted his dick that deep once or twice through rare blowjobs, but nothing of the extent of what just happened.

And Bond’s eyes positively shine with strange, perverted pride.

Q gestures, “I fucking kill you” with his hand - should be clear enough, and swallow what he has in his mouth in three careful gulps.

“All done?”

Q opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out.

“So good,” Bond murmurs and dodges Q’s open palm. His palm, meanwhile, lands on Q’s cock.

“No!” Q slaps it away.

“No?”

“No. Want to come when you fuck me. You didn’t say I can’t postpone my hard-earned orgasm.”

“Indeed I didn’t,” Bond confirms thoughtfully. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

“Not when your cock is like that, James,” Q shakes his head. Q’s fingers wrap around the mentioned organ, and it starts swelling again. 

By the end of four hours and Bond’s erection, Q feels spent as if he had all five orgasms instead of two. There’s a soft buzz of quenched lust under his skin, the feeling Q rarely gets to experience - his brain has quieted, and he is shrouded away from all the world around him.

“Are you alright?” James asks with genuine concern when he’s done ordering room service in a flirty voice.

“Uh-huh,” Q mumbles as he stretches, arms flung up. His shoulders hurt - his joints are flexible, and today Bond has used every inch of this flexibility.

Bond considers him for a long time.

“How much worse you were at eighteen, I wonder?”

“What do you mean?”

Q allows Bond to scoop his persona in the arms. He goes as far as wiggling closer into the embrace.

“I mean, in terms of sex drive. It must have been even higher.”

“Ah, that,” Q laughs. “It wasn’t worse. About the same. Considering I wasn’t too promiscuous then, one can say my appetites went up with age.”

James’ eyes sparkle with intrigue.

“Why?”

“I had a father, and studies, the other things to focus on. Men confused me. I was presumed to like to be fucked, and with some nauseating care. Just finding a guy was hard, and finding the right guy… Phew!”

Bond chuckles.

“Am I the right guy?”

“No, but you’re very trainable.”

“Worth the effort?”

“Don’t fish for a compliment.”

“But I feel like I deserved one.”

“You feel like that all the time.”

Bong's grin widens. He loves their bickering.

“You always dare. That’s why you’re perfect,” Q obliges him in the end.

“Why, thank you, Dagny. It’s very sweet.”

“Shut up,” Q bites his lip, resisting a smile. He’s saved from Bond’s fondness by knocking at the door.

“Go bring me the food. I’m famished.”

Chapter Text

***

The next week after their return, Bond brings him a cat—a kitten, really. The brazen creature hisses at Q for days, and Q hisses back. Q has all his ankles scratched because the furry bastard keeps assaulting him every chance he gets.

Alec’s absent longer than expected, but with this type of mission, it’s not a reason for concern, so Q isn’t concerned and lives his life as usual with small adjustments.

“The little bastard took a shit on my fucking bed!” He half whispers in the phone because if he allows his voice to be a fraction louder, he’ll automatically start screaming.

“You two just fight for dominance,” Bond replies. Q hears him barely restraining his laugh.

“He has his balls cut off; he shouldn’t do such things!”

“Where is he?”

“Screaming murder under my front door!”

“Did you throw him out?!”

“Of course!”

“Don’t be like that!”

In the middle of this pointless argument, Q’s doorbell rings.

“You didn’t haul your arse here, did you?”

“No, it’s not me.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“No, open the door with me on the phone.”

“Well, how do you save me through the phone, and why should I hold the phone instead of a gun, then?” Q scoffs but already nears the door, still with the phone pressed to his ear. Now he notices that the cat’s screaming has stopped.

A quick peek at the peephole reveals Alec holding the furry bastard to his chest.

“It’s just Alec,” Q reports, opening the door and staring at the man who must be fresh from the plane. Why the hell he's at Q’s doorstep is a very good question. But before Q can demand his answer, Alec holds the animal in the air with a quizzical expression.

“Is this fella yours?”

“Bond’s,” Q says and waves Alec in. “I’ll call you back.” He promises into the phone and cuts the call. Alec holds out the kitten to him. Q has to take half a step back.

“No. I’d ask you to dump him back, but you wouldn’t do it.”

Alec holds the beast to his chest protectively. The kitten starts to purr. It’s the first time Q hears the sound.

“Little bitch,” he shakes his head.

“I think he doesn’t like you because he feels you don’t like him.”

“Why, thank you for the opinion,” Q says venomously. "I figured that much."

He looks at Alec - the man looks five years older than his actual age, while in his carefree days, he looks younger. This brings Q to a horrible conclusion - Alec has come to seek moral support of a sort from him - again. Q makes no moves to allow Alec (and the cat) to go further than the hallway.

“Have your place burned down or something?” Q asks.

“No, as far as I know.”

“So you weren’t there yet? Why would you go here straight after disembarking the plane and popping into Six?”

“You’re here.”

“So what, it gives you some sort of permission?”

Alec looks confused. Q sighs.

“The fact we have a good time in bed doesn’t grant you much beyond that. At least not by default.”

“Ah,” Alec says stupidly. He lowers his eyes to the kitten in his arms and scratches him between the ears.

Q should tell him to get out.

“Call next time. I’m not always in the mood. You’re just lucky.”

“I can get out. I’m probably overstepping.”

“You certainly do. Just be on your best behaviour next time and ask permission. Nobody is entitled to my time.”

“Not even Jimmy?”

“Especially not him!” Q scoffs, which elicits a timid chuckle from Alec. He tries to pass the cat to Q, but Q steps back. “No, toss him down. I have no business with animals who confuse my bed with the litter box.”

“Ouch. You’re in trouble, aren’t you, ryzhik?

“Who? Richy?”

“Ryzhik," Alec repeats as if Q could ever pronounce that. "He’s ginger. The name for ginger cats in Russian.”

“I can’t possibly pronounce that. Toss him on the floor. What exactly do you need from me?”

“Bed to sleep. It’ll be nice if you’ll be around.”

“The flat or the room?”

“Room.”

While Alec is in the shower, Q considers calling Bond but decides it’s unnecessary now. He allows him into the bed that’s tucked into the corner of his study—he himself is behind his desk, staring at monitors. The kitten threads into the room with careful steps and rushes to jump to bed when he’s under Alec’s protection.

“I’ll toss you out of the window the next time,” Q warns the animal, who’s certainly smart enough to understand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He then states the question to Alec. The man just makes a sound of negation. “All right, to the fucking reading then. You know I hate it, don’t you?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“Of course I do. I’m very nosy.”

Alec snorts and returns to his stupid cooing with the cat. 

Q finds the report on Six’s servers and does some reading. On paper, there’s nothing too awful - a lot of deception, a fair amount of kills, some collateral with few minors included - those regions of Africa known to give Kalashnikovs to boys as young as fourteen. But nothing of it should bother Alec to this extent. He’s seen it all, though with how gentle the man generally is, Q sometimes has a hard time believing it.

“It’s not in the report, isn’t it?” Q wonders out loud.

“No,” Alec says. Q swirls on his chair to take in the man. Trevelyan looks like he’s about to tell Q to drop it, but after a moment of consideration, he waves his hand and goes back to petting the kitten’s belly.

Heaving a great sigh, Q stands and nears the bed. He climbs onto it and over the man to lie behind and wraps his arms around him.

“Am I the little spoon?” Alec laughs even as he nestles into the embrace.

“Why? Any objections?”

“No, it’s nice.”

The cat nips at Q’s finger. Alec tuts at him.

“Right, protect me from the beast,” Q encourages. They lie together for a long time, silent. Q thinks Alec has fallen asleep, but the man suddenly jerks in his arms, dislodges the cat and almost elbows Q in the ribs.

“Shit. I should be with somebody else in bed when I’m like this.”

“Yet you’ve come here,” Q strokes his side, and then, without caring about a suitable preamble. “Seen girls get raped?”

Alec beside him doesn’t freeze. His breathing doesn’t get short. He keeps perfect composure and even shrugs his shoulder almost carelessly. He doesn’t say anything, but Q takes it as a yes.

Q assumes the worst - even though agents know the multiple ways out of it, sometimes out is not the option.

“They brought me a boy when I said girls don’t do it for me. I don’t think any of them were of… legal age.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“What?! Fuck, Q, of course not!” Alec turns to stare at Q in horror. “What do you think of me?”

“Sometimes there’s no way around it. Do you need me to give you a list of Double-Ohs who were less lucky than you?”

Alec's face contorts.

“Doesn’t mean anything. Don’t think of them less, wouldn’t - of you,” Q adds. He’s annoyed that Alec thinks it does. Their craft is ugly, not least because of killings.

“Kept him around so there’s no more offerings. Touched him in places at the right moments. The problem is, after some time, the other guy used him for real.”

"Killed him after you knew?"

"Yes."

"And all the others?"

"Yes."

"And the boy?"

"With a hefty sum somewhere. Not sure he’s capable of wise judgment, though."

Q shrugs.

"You’re so calm about it."

“I’ve little empathy. Known fact. Made me a damn good Quartermaster - you think I’ve never been on comms when somebody has to actually do it with a person of questionable age? Not one time. You do what you need and then kill the bastards. Then you’re safely home. That’s all of my concerns, not a problem of prostitution in third countries. That’s why you’re so pale?”

“Yes. It’ll pass. It’s not the first time. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“I know,” Q huffs a laugh and kisses the spot behind Alec’s ear. His hand lands between his legs, and Q thumbs along the inseam of the boxers Alec’s wearing. It’s Bond’s cheery ones - blue with daisies all around. Q finds it sweet that Alec has no repulsion to share the underwear with Bond.

Alec tries to avoid it, but Q is behind him, and there’s no wiggle room.

“Q,” he reproaches. “Not the right moment.”

“You’re a dummy, Trevelyan.” Q rubs over Alec’s soft dick with the heel of his palm. “You need comfort. This one thing is a means of comfort I’m capable of providing. If you needed to talk or drink, you’d go to Bond. But you’re here.”

“Not because of sex.”

“No, not only,” Q’s hand sneaks inside the boxers through the fly. He fondles soft flesh inside without any urgency. “But I’d be more fine if sex was the case, Alec.”

“Why?”

“I prefer sex. All beyond is dangerous ground.”

While Alec’s distracted and not stressing about Q’s hand pumping him, his length starts to swell.

“And we’re on it?”

“It’s likely,” Q allows and twists his wrist. Alec ahs, soft and broken. His hips twitch, but he resists the desire of his body to lean toward pleasure provided by Q’s tight fingers.

“What does it mean?”

“How about you’ll be a good boy and let me make you come, and then I’ll tell you?” Q proposes.

“You can make a transaction out of everything.”

“Of course. Turn around.”

Alec complies mutely. When they’re face to face, his eyes are full of reproach, and Q can’t help a laugh bubbling out of him. He leans his forehead to Alec’s and moves his hand in the man’s pants again, to the hot, hard, full-on dick. Alec bites his lips and stares at Q with desperate eyes, his body taut and still.

“You’re good. Let it go,” Q murmurs, holding the man’s stare. With his hand, Q continues pulling him off, relentless and fast, until they get to the stage when Alec’s mouth falls open from soft panting. When Q pauses, Alec gives no reaction - no protest, no plea, nothing - only his eyes become harder. Suspicious.

Q touches two fingers to the man’s lips and pushes. Alec continues to be very uncooperative—his jaw doesn't slacken, as Q expects it, so Q’s fingers are immediately impeded by his teeth. Q huffs and pries Alec’s mouth open, pushing at his tongue after he’s in a wet cavity beyond.

“You better lick,” he advises as he pulls boxers down Alec’s things with one jerk of his free hand. Alec’s tongue circles his two fingers, lukewarm, unenthusiastic.

Only when Q’s finger slips inside his hole Alec’s somnolent state is somewhat broken with a blurted-out sound of discomfort and frown.

“Yeah, I know. Been a while,” Q mutters.

He isn’t going to torment Alec, who is haunted already, without any input from Q. He waits when the resistance of the body ceases around one, adds the second, and moves them to and fro in a purposeful angle that brushes Alec’s prostate. The body has no choice but to relax - Alec groans deeply, eyes hazy and jaw slack, to Q's soft, appraising kiss. His hand on Q’s shoulder is trembling.

“You’re back,” Q mutters humidly into his mouth, catching Alec’s eyes and holding his gaze, obstinate in his need to have Alec here with him, not elsewhere. “You’ve no appearances to keep here; you’ve done such a good job to drop ‘em all.”

The sound escapes Alec, a sort of retort, dismayed and anguished.

“Yes, you did,” Q insists. “Else you wouldn’t be here, half-stupid from how I finger-fuck you,” he adds, enjoying the riotous delight born from the way Alec looks at him.

“Shut the fuck up. Since when you’re so mouthy?” 

“Here you are,” Q purrs and tightens fingers around Alec’s leaking cock.

He spends himself into Q’s fist no more than five minutes later with a quiet moan resembling one of pain, and Q hitches his boxers back up over his butt and leans back to look him in the face.

“Here. Should be better. Be right back.”

Q sneaks out to wash his hands and returns to the study immediately.

When Q returns, Alec’s chest is occupied by the ginger ball of fury.  

“What’s this name again?” Q asks as he peaks at his monitors.

“Ryzhik,” Alec grins.

“You’ll take him if he continues to be such a bitch,” Q nears the bed, sits on the edge and extends his hand to scratch the animal under his chin. For the first time, the interaction is peaceful. “What changed?” Q wonders out loud.

“You cursed him but fondly. They pick up intonation, not the meaning.”

“Stupid animal.” Q cooes to Alec’s laugh. Q can see he’s better. “Sleep. I’ll call Bond so you get out of my hair.”

“M’Kay. Thanks, Dagny.”

Q turns to look at Alec, himself not sure with what - incredulity, surprise or angry reproach. But the man has his eyes closed already, too frazzled to resist the sweet pull of sleep.

***

Q gives the man a few days to come to his senses - more or less. Afterwards, he pays him an unannounced visit.

When Alec opens the door, having already buzzed Q in, his expression is a mix of befuddlement and concern.

“Did something happen?”

“No. Just decided to do what you have an unfortunate habit of doing.”

“Can’t say I’m against it. Come in.”

Alec makes them tea while stealing apprehensive but curious glances at Q. Q lets him stew while giving himself a chance to back off.

It’s tough, emotions. It’s a fright to suddenly find yourself caring. 

He can hate, be annoyed, despise full-scale and then some - he lives off the negativity, the fight, the remorse - it fuels him. On the other side, though, it’s all numbness with light undertones of sparse emotions - amusement, wonder, sympathy, they all rather tepid. James Bond sneaked through this wall of indifference with his irritating persistence and dirty tricks, but - and Q can give him that - not only. He’d given himself over to Q long before he’d had a chance to get anything in return. Even now, all they have between them is based solely on Q’s conditions. Bond is his; Bond will do as he is told - and it gives Q the impression that the situation is under his control. How faulty it is, he cannot know.    

Alec, though. Alec’s an issue because it’s Q who sits in Alec’s kitchen, ready to seek certain things that go beyond sex from him.

He can’t say he’s been in such a situation before. 

“Q?” Alec calls him, clearly torn between worry and amusement. He’s messy and dishevelled, with stubble and wild hair, boxers for a sole item of clothing. Q experiences an urge to touch him so strong it’s painful to quell. 

“You called me a little differently,” Q hears himself say. 

“I was in a bit of a state. Sorry, shouldn’t have done that.”

Q nods. “It’s alright, though.”

“Is it?”

“I want obligations from you,” Q blurts out.

Alec stares. He puts his cup aside before folding his hands on the table. 

“You have to elaborate, grachonok,” Alec chuckles after silence stretches for over a minute. “Non-disclosure agreement or something?”

“Oh, it’s not about my bloody name, idiot!” Q erupts briefly. 

“What about, then?”

“I’d rather you don’t fuck other guys.”

“And whom I fuck instead?”

“Me. Bond, if you want.”

Only then does Trevelyan get it.

“Wait a minute. What are you trying to offer in that awkward way?”

“Poly,” Q replies after a slight pause.

“Whereas only you fuck on the side?”

Q rolls his eyes. He doesn’t like it already. It’s all discussed with Bond, how things work. It’s unfortunate he has to get into it again.

“You can. Just run it through with us first.”

“Does Jimmy even know you’re here?”

“No.”

“All this run-through thing works splendidly, I see.”

“He’s half in love with you, dumbass.” Q snorts at Alec’s face. That’s it. He’s fed up. He stands up and makes it for escape, but Alec catches him in the hallway and drags him into the bedroom by his arm, where he shoves him to sit on the bed.

“What’s your situation with me, Q?”  

“Another half,” Q mutters.

“Really? You?” Alec’s scepticism is the wisest reaction, really. “What have I done?”

“Fuck if I know. James is quite annoyed you got off that easy. Took him five years.”

“So he knows.”

“Oh, of course he does. He told me.”

Alec has the gall to cackle quietly to Q’s baleful stare. He goes to sit beside Q, and his expression sobers quickly in a way that makes Q extremely nervous.

"I know Jimmy consciously agreed to keep your relationship open. I also know it wasn't easy for him, but I suspect he enjoys the dynamic you two get from it. I'm not comfortable with the thought, and I won't enjoy it."

"But... Rahim," Q counters rather stupidly, considering he's sure Alec was giving in to manipulation.

"Yes, that's why I'm sure. Never really was my desire, was it?" Alec shrugs with a wry self-deprecation and covers Q's hand with his. "As much as I hate to admit that, it won't work, grachonok."

With a deep frown, Q realises his huge fallacy - with how easy it has always been for him to compel anybody into wanting, he has no knowledge about how to persuade somebody who doesn't want to be compelled.

Surely, he can't just give up his freedom. He can't trick Alec into believing it's not a big deal because Alec obviously witnessed Bond's struggle to accept it. But it's true that Bond gets off from it just enough to balance all the struggle. Alec has no mean bone in him. Q honestly doesn't have the faintest idea why he wants the man so bad.

"Can we fuck, though?" Q asks and hates how meek he sounds.

"I mean, it's not a stellar idea."

"Are you giving up on me?" Q huffs with an amazed laugh. There's the first time for everything.

"As much as it pains me."

And Q can see it does. He despises the air of utmost despondency Alec has about him when the words are said. Trevelyan has the gall to look profoundly guilty, which is complete and utter rubbish because it's all not his fault. Q has to close his eyes and breathe for a few moments to fight against the wave of rage and panic. He was being stupid and not prepared for this outcome. This, as much as his silly affection for Alec, makes him want to deal with it gracefully.

"Do I have a chance to make you change your mind?" He asks Alec when all his muscles are unclenched.

"About sharing? No. Do I?" Alec throws the question back at Q with a kind but sad smile, no doubt knowing the answer.

"No, sadly, I'm a slut. All I can offer is to whore discreetly." Q gives a hum. "I don't mind you and Bond, just so you know."

"Even if you have no gain?"

"Even if."

"Doesn't seem fair to me."

Q shrugs it off. "Your call. It'd make him happy. I promise not to act like a bitch, but I suppose it will be wise to take a pause for us two in seeing each other."

"I really am sorry, grachonok. You know I'm fond of you."

"I know," Q smiles and reaches for a kiss, even as he's choking on the bitterness of defeat. "Take care, Mr Trevelyan."

He can admit he deserved this lesson.

***

As months pass, Bond questions why Q can't, for once, go and try to change his ways.

Q doesn't know why he suddenly opens the topic; Q and Alec don't see each other, but Q knows James goes out with him regularly. Pitifully, Q hopes that means Alec, just like himself, can't move on.

"Why can't he?" Q scoffs, defensive.

"Because it's a tough thing to learn. If not impossible."

"You did."

"I'll do about anything for you, and you know it damn well from the start," Bond declares and earns himself a lapful of Q. No matter the bitter topic of conversation, the casual admittance of Bond's complete supplication makes Q feel things. "We are very fucked up people, Dagny, Alec is just not like that, and I don't know how you still have a gall expecting him to change just for your whim."

Now, scolding is not so sexy. Q sends Bond a baleful look but stays as he is, comfortably astride Bond's thighs. "It's not a whim!" He counters crossly.

"It's a desire to have everything without giving up a single thing. You're greedy, Q, and selfish," Bond still chides him. With uneasiness, Q understands it must have boiled inside his lover's head for a while. "A bit like a spoiled child."

Q clenches his fingers and straightens them a few times, resisting an immediate urge to snap at being told off. Bond means well. It's probably not even telling off but helping Q to perceive the differences between people.

"Let us think what kind of man Alec Trevelyan is?" Bond proposes in a gentler tone.

"Stop talking to me like I'm a bloody child!"

"But you are being childish. Did your dad sit down with you to explain people?"

He did. All the bloody time.

"No, Bond, no references to my father. We're fucking, you and I. You know I don't find these allusions kinky."

"All right, just calm down," Bond smiles and takes Q's hand between his. "Indulge me anyway, like somebody you're fucking. I'll show you something nice later if you're good."

"What, that cane you hide in one of your wardrobes?"

"Have you been through my things?"

"Not intentionally. Remember that time we'd gotten my shirt unsalvageably dirty just before we had to go out?" Q reminds him. "I'm sure as hell do not orient myself in the sheer amount of your clothes and its storage spaces, so I stumbled upon the case by chance."

"And peeked inside?"

"Please. I didn't have to; I know what it looks like."

Bond smiles and pats Q's bottom. "Yes, maybe that's what I'm promising. But only if you quit trying to lead me away from the topic."

It's a good motivation. Ever since stumbling upon the item, Q has been wondering what it is on Bond's mind.

"Kind, quiet," Q starts with a huff. It's easy to convey Alec in words. "Stupidly generous and loyal as a dog. Tends to mix up love and duty because of that."

After this, Q clams up. Bond waits a few moments to see if there's more, but there isn't. He chuckles and nods.

"And you encouraged the man to face the things he really desires; with admirable success, because you truly are the serpent. But because you're also a brat, now you are sulking after Alec declined you on the grounds that extensive sharing is not something he wants. That he wants a commitment."

"But my occasionally fucking somebody else doesn't exclude a commitment! You bloody know it!"

Bond sighs wearily. "Q. Even I don't appreciate it if someone sticks their dick in your arse or hurts you because you asked. We just reached certain agreements, and you don't let me figure out if it happened."

"Well, I just don't let them do it," Q blurts out crossly. A genuine mistake made because he's desperate to prove himself right. Bond was never meant to know it.

"Really?" He asks mildly.

Q averts his eyes and stares at the wall over Bond's shoulder, his jaw set.

"So you're capable of compromising, even without being asked. Which is very generous of you, and you shouldn't have told me."

That's why he hasn't - this sweet, adoring tilt in the bastard's voice, with an undertone of pure smugness - Q finds it hard to bear. He wants to remove himself from the situation. He tries, only to find Bond holding him in place by pushing down on the front of his upper thighs.

"So tell me. Was that hard?" Bond asks, and Q realises with resignation that he's just shown his hand.

He purses his lips and doesn't answer.

"Not that hard then. Maybe even nice - stop having to explain how you prefer it," Bond muses out loud, not discouraged. Q knows James Bond stares him in the face, catching the tells, and tries his damnedest to keep his features immobile. "Stop having to hide from me for some time after because you don't want me to know. Maybe even regretting in hindsight because I'm far better at doing you nice and rough?"

Q considers just hitting him. There's no way he can manage a decent swing - Bond will intercept him. Q raises his hand anyway. He doesn't mind Bond hurting him.

"Oh, don't you dare," Bond growls. Q ignores him. Just as predicted, his wrist is caught in a strong grip, and his arm is twisted behind his back, so vicious and high that he has his hand pressed between his shoulder blades.

The silver lining of being caught is that now he is forced closer to Bond. He doesn't contemplate his next move for long, and Bond has no chance to predict it when, with a sharp jerk, Q headbutts him in the nose.

"Little bastard. Shit!" Bond curses. Q's forehead hurts, but he struck hard enough to cause Bond the inconvenience of a nosebleed, and it is totally worth the pain.

Now that Bond needs his hands to catch the blood and pinch the bridge of his nose, Q is free to move. He hops off Bond's lap and heads to the kitchen. Returning with paper towels and a cooling pad Bond has stocked in the freezer, Q bends down in front of Bond, hands him a few towels in his left hand and takes his right to clean it.

"So, did I get all of this right?" Bond questioned in a nasal voice, still managing to sound so full of himself. Q takes pleasure in the slight shade of purple already appearing under the inner corners of his eyes. "You wouldn't have pounced otherwise."

"I hope it's broken, you impossible bastard," Q growls. The bleeding isn't excessive and fast to stop, and Q tosses the cooling pad James' way before marching out of the room and, after a little more consideration, out of the flat. He needs to cool down.

***

Q returns after two hours of aimless wandering along the Thames. He finds Bond where he left him and leans closer to study the man's nose. There's a bit of bruising under his eyes, and Q touches a thumb to coloured flesh. Bond is quick to curl fingers around his wrist, but he doesn't force Q's hand away and allows him to touch.

"Not broken, then? Shame," Q sighs with genuine disappointment.

"You're such a little fucker, love," despite everything, Bond is beaming.

He tries to tug Q onto his lap, but Q twists his wrist out of his hold and sits at the other end of the couch instead.

"Where were you leading with all that rubbish?"

"You can't take without giving up something in return. And I know for a fact you're not a spoiled child and can do that right because that's how this whole mess keeps working out," Bond gestures between them. "You demand something of me, I demand something of you. We both relent. Now, why do you want something from him without being willing to give something up in turn and sulk like it's all his bloody fault?"

Q drops his eyes. He has no good answer that is both truthful and to Q's advantage. Because there's no such answer. But Q plays Bond's words in his head again, realises where the man is wrong and clings to it.

"He doesn't give anything up if he just gets me exclusively, does he? How does this work out in your little preaching?"

"Except for his bloody sanity," Bond rolls his eyes like it's funny.

"I'm serious, Bond."

"Well, you never exactly tried to find a compromise. You just said you can't stop your slutty streak, and he said he can't abide by that, and that's all there was. It's not exactly negotiations," Bond huffs. "I'd just let you be, but I know you, and you're bloody despondent. Without even trying. What's the problem?"

Q sighs and mumbles what the problem is.

"Q. You know I'm a bit deaf, and you're very far."

"Scared. I'm scared."

Bond sighs. Q knows this sigh. He does it when he must be stern with Mathilde but can't because it's a girl who looks back at him with his own eyes.

Q would love to exploit it like Mathilde does, but he's indeed not a child. And no matter how much Q hates this talk, its purpose is to help Q untangle himself from the trap of not being able to deal with really big feelings. It just got derailed the first time because that's their fucked up dynamic. They egg each other on and end up fucking or fighting in the middle of something serious.

"Of what exactly?"

"Have you seen the man?!" Q explodes. It should be obvious. "Of hurting him!"

Bond's eyes are soft when they meet Q's furious glare.

"I don't suppose you cared to mention it to him?"

"Why? How it changes shit?"

"He'll know it's not you not willing to try, it's you afraid to try and fail. Really, Dagny, love. Come here."

Bond opens his arms. Q rolls forward on his hands and knees and crawls to the other side of the couch and into Bond's embrace. He sniffles a bit when his face is securely smashed against the side of Bond's neck.

James leans his temple to the top of Q's head and gives him time to regain a grip on his emotions, content with just petting Q's hair. It's a rare moment of uncomplicated peace between them, and Q secretly savours it.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Q mutters after a while without moving away, only shifting his head to a slightly different angle.

"Yes."

"And you think he's up for discussion?"

"I think you need to talk about it under full disclosure. And you need to keep bloody calm," James grouses.

"Well, you have the cane. If you work me well tonight, I can go to him tomorrow and be a bloody angel." Q mumbles. "You've learnt it proper, right?"

"Yes. With a specific focus on not drawing blood because this thing is vicious. I warn you I won't be breaking your skin with it like that CIA bastard."

"Fine. It's not disappointing. If you can do it without blood, you do it better."  

Q's already feeling better.

Bond chuckles and flicks his nose. "I'll never get used to how the strangest and most morbid things never fail to cheer you up."

Q grins and unfolds himself from the ball of misery, which automatically brings the distance between them. "Now show me that cane, why won't you?"

"You do know you have done nothing to deserve a treat?"

"I think I did," Q counters as he casts his eyes downwards and peeks at Bond through his eyelashes. "I was vulnerable , James. You can appreciate it, right?"

"Imp," Bond puts a proprietary hand on the back of Q's neck and leans to kiss him, hard and hungry. "Let me feed you first. Don't want you to faint on me."

"I won't!" Q scoffs.

"Not up to discussion. Just something light, and I'll show you what I've learned."

***

The next day, Q sits on the very edge of the chair in Alec's kitchen, his posture ramrod straight. He regrets nothing, except maybe not asking Bond to abstain from slashes on his arse.

He hasn't had a good night's sleep because he's not accustomed to sleeping on his front, but sleeplessness served the purpose - Q utilised the extra time to remind himself of the sheer amount of times Alec gave himself up to him. By now, they have a history - and it's Q who's always demanded something and Alec who's given in.

Of course, Q was just trying to have it like a pep-talk for himself.

As usual, he forgot the main motivation people usually use - he was actually deeply in love with Alec Trevelyan.

He remembers it when Alec opens the door and greets him with a cautious little smile. Q's answering grin is involuntary, and the progression of the corners of his mouth upwards is impossible to stop. The pull of dry lips stretched wide is uncomfortable but less so than the complete loss of control over his facial muscles.

At least it has Alec's smile widen.

Alec offers him tea and waits silently. Q thinks he could use a splash of whiskey as a condiment. He says so. Ever accommodating, Alec procures the half-full bottle and places it in front of Q, who doesn't touch it.

"Are you in pain?"

"Oh yes," Q blurts out, caught off guard by the abruptness and irrelevant character of the question. "Don't mind it. Can we talk?"

Alec's face is a mix of worry and amusement when he nods. "Do you want to start?"

Q shrugs his shoulders abruptly. It provokes a whisper of pain up his back. It's a welcome distraction because it allows him not to start fuming at how utterly stupid he behaves.

"Sometimes it's just a release valve," Q starts somewhere in the middle, failing to find a way to give his thoughts a structure. "Pretty often, actually. You've seen me in a state I fall into if I'm understimulated."

"Did you come to justify your need for random sex to me?" Alec's tone is still amused but with an edge of steel.

"Trying to get to the point," Q says, raising a hand. "I don't know if it's believable if I say that sometimes it's urgent, and I don't enjoy it much."

"And there's no other way to keep you calm?"

"Pain, tranquilisers."

"And to prevent you from getting worked up?

"Do me good minimum of three times a week lowers the risks, but according to Bond, it's a lot of work," Q chuckles. "But it's still no guarantee."

"Still don't see your point."

Q moves his shoulders to get a bit more of this ticklish pain. The problem with his method of self-soothing is its great potential to turn him on at the same time.

"Right. The point. I've never been in a closed relationship. I don't know if I'm capable. I can't - and don't want to promise you something and then fall back because I hate broken promises."

"Still justification."

Good Lord. Q starts to realise Bond is a bloody genius for ensuring that Q arrives at Trevelyan ruined.

Q scowls.

"You don't need to explain to me your inner workings so much. I mostly don't care and know a fair bit of all that already. Try to get to the point better."

Q shuts up and frowns. Alec lets him think and stands to prepare another beverage. This time Q is presented with coffee, milky and sweet. Not his usual fare - caffeine loaded with sugar, but it settles his slightly spinning head.

"I don't know what Jimmy has done with you, but you're pale."

Q pale because he's freaking out. He's not used to being so out of control. He stays mute.

"Alright, grachonok. You guided me through the mess in my head. Let's see if I can return the favour. You want us to try but don't want to be held responsible for failing, which you seem to view as something imminent."

Q winces. "Yes."  

"How did you get through it with Jimmy? He was also a new situation if I remember correctly."

"He took all the responsibility in case of failing on him."

"I can't do that. But I also can't expect you to change your ways overnight, even with Jimmy and myself able to stretch it to five days a week easily."

Q sighs dreamily. Now, that would be very nice.

"So what? Back to whoring discreetly?" Q frowns because it doesn't make sense. The last time, Alec wasn't on board with it.

"On the contrary. Can you not do it with strangers?"

"Yes," Q says before even thinking. What he and Bond have done in Paris is a thrill, but between this and Alec, the choice is evident to Q.

"Somebody I know from your selection?"

"Len."

"Still?"

"Yep. He's good and uncomplicated and knows how to tie me up in a little pouch of flesh," Q smiles. "There was one guy at R&D, but I'd rather not. He has an incipient crash on me. So nobody else you could possibly know, if only by some freak coincidence."

"I'm okay if you take it to Lenny if you need it."

"And tell you I did it?"

"Yes."

"Mm. Do you want to watch someday? He's an exhibitionist worse than Bond."

Alec laughs. "Q. No. I have no desire to watch Lenny having sex with anybody, even you."

Q cackles. "Alright, my bad. But if he's indisposable?"

Alec sighs. "Do you mind making a file on your second and third choice? I expect you've checked them all thoroughly at some point. I'll find a way to make an acquaintance if I feel the need."

Q stares at Alec in wonder. It's a bizarre compromise, but it can work.

"So..." he starts hesitantly. "And we can actually have you?"

"If you consider it a fallback and not a permission. We'll see how it goes from both sides."

Q nods. It's an adjustment, but being with Bond was also an adjustment - and now Q barely knows how to be without the bastard.

"And if I use it as permission and say it was a fallback?"

Alec rises from his chair and approaches to lean on the edge of the table beside Q. "I think you will not do it. You've no penchant for lying."

Alec's right. Truth is just painful. Untruth is poisonous.

Q stands up from his chair. Alec's hands land on his hips and a heavy, intent touch. Completely forgetting himself, Q leans in into the embrace - and when a luxurious glide of Alec's hands passes the first welt on Q's back, he yelps so loud he startles not only Alec but himself.

"What?.." Alec returns his hands to Q's hips and leans back with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Shit," Q chuckles and starts working the buttons of his shirt open. "I'll better show you."

Shucking the shirt off, he tosses it over the back of the chair and turns his back to Alec. When Q was getting dressed, the six red welts crossed his back, each broken off in half by the line of his spinal column.  

"Fuck... How do you even sit upright?"

"Ah, sitting is easy," Q takes a careful step back and inserts himself into Alec's arms. Intentionally, he leans close to feel the fabric of Alec's tee brushing against his back and shudders a bit from a zing of pain. "It's all very nice. The hands were just unexpected and too heavy."

Alec moves his hands to Q's front now - one he settles precariously low on Q's belly, just atop of the place when the trembling glimmer of Q's desire growing brighter; his other hand is on Q's neck, fingers nudge up the jawbone to prompt Q into tilting his head. Q obliges and murmurs his pleasure when Alec puts a string of sucking kisses along his neck.

"How about sealing the deal?" He proposes in reminiscent of the interaction they had before.

"What about Jimmy?"

"I believe I have permission to engage. The bastard just jerked me off with his hand yesterday. Said it'll keep me motivated today."

Alec cackles quietly into the back of Q's neck. "Did it work?"

"I think you've done all the job for me, Alec." Q wiggles his hips round, rubbing his butt over the front of Alec's trousers. "A payback is in order."

"You sure? It looks terrifyingly uncomfortable."  

Q grabs Alec's hand residing on his belly and tugs it down until Alec's fingers curl around the bulge of his hard cock.

"Just put me on all four and fuck my arse until I'm sufficiently squashed into your mattress."

Trevelyan answers with a little growl and holds Q tight while rubbing his own hard-on along the back seam of Q's trousers. It has Q sobbing because his butt holds the sights of Bond's handiwork, too.

"What, there's more?"

"Yes," Q half-moans. "Does it change shit?"

Alec takes him to the bed. Q catches his first unguarded expression when he sees him fully naked and with his back turned.

"What the bloody hell was it made with?"

"Cane," Q answers as he positions himself on the bed on his elbows and knees.

It was a snappy thing, elegant and indulgent like everything Bond owned. It wasn't the longest - the size of Bond's bedroom evidently had been taken into consideration - but flexible. And Bond wielded it like he'd been spanking some poor sub regularly for a couple of years.

Q relives the sweet memory while Alec readies his hole. The recollection is so bright it has Q's arse squeezing hungrily around intruding fingers. It halts Alec's progress because he has to stop and wait for Q to relax every time.

"What's the matter? Have you forgotten how it's done?" Alec teases.

Grinning, Q arches his back in a sharper curve that brings his chest flush against the sheets and his arse up to the air, spread open until Q clamps around two fingers, deliberately tensing his pelvic muscles.

"Have you met me, Alec?" Q scoffs. "I was just thinking about yesterday, waiting until you'll stop slacking."

Alec gives his right buttock a good loud slap upright. Q squeaks with a sharp jerk and wiggles his arse in the air. "Yes, something like that."

They both show a very poor performance, stamina-wise. All Q can do is hold back an orgasm for ten minutes. When Alec takes a palmful of his arse and squeezes, the last of his restraint is undone, and he shoots all over the bedding. Alec presses him into the mattress and messed sheets, buries his cock inside Q's quivering hole and comes with a choked-out growl.

The bulk of Alec is right on top of him, and the pain is electrifying. Q feels his skin start to prickle with gooseflesh and small hairs standing up.

"Am I hurting you?" Alec mumbles against his ear.

"Yes. I welcome it," Q replies and turns his head to be able to breathe - and to see Alec's face. The man meets his eyes with a beaming smile and angles his head for a kiss. Q allows it. The funny thing becomes clear to him while they're kissing and he snorts.

"What?" Alec mumbles, barely disengaging.

"Now you've officially earned your right to kiss me."

"Did I?" Alec licks the words into Q's mouth, essentially forcing it open with his tongue. It's vulgar, ill-mannered and very not-Alec, to put the tongue into someone's mouth with such vigour.

Q has zero objections. He relaxes his jaw and only occasionally engages it to catch Thevelyan's lip between his teeth, the rest of time allowing it to be wet and loose. Such a fervour inevitably causes Q to want more. He twitches his head with a hum and pants into Alec's mouth for a few moments before he can manage coherent speech after Alec lets him go. Barely.

"How about I fuck you?" He proposes but immediately reconsiders. "No, wait. I'll leave it for James. Would you like that?"

Q can read the answer in the slight hitch in Alec's out-breath or in how his blows pupils grow even bigger, but he's pleased to hear it said out loud nonetheless.

"Would be nice," Trevelyan answers and dismounts from atop Q, mindful not to cause unneeded friction to his damaged skin.

"You can blow me instead. Since I'm sharing," Q offers as he props himself up on elbows. He looks back over his shoulder to the man. "Will you lie down and let me sit on your face?"

"Insatiable," Alec comments with an amused quirk of his mouth. "I thought we're meant to be in an equal three-person relationship. Is it really sharing then?"

Even as he states the question, Alec unrolls himself on his back beside Q and flings his arms over his head. He raises his brow expectantly.

"Are you expecting me to mount you or to answer your pseudo-rhetoric question?"

"Come here," Alec beckons and helps Q climb up him until he's astride his chest. Then he halts him. "Don't go rogue. Let me coddle you a bit. Alright?"

"Okay," Q agrees with a dramatic sigh.

***

Just about when Alec discards Q back on the mattress, the doorbell rings. Alec taps Q's hip, communicating the command to stay through the touch - not that Q could move if he wanted to, mind you - and moves through the flat on silent feel.

"Would you two mind answering your phones?" Q hears Bond's voice following the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Mine is off."

"Mine is on mute," Q calls from the bedroom.

"I was wondering if I find you slowly killing each other or fucking."

"You fuck Alec tonight!" Q informs Bond.

"Am I? Do you know about that?"

"I do. He said it's sharing. But it's not, right?"

"I expect it isn't."

Q hears the voice approaching and peeks at Bond, who enters the bedroom and drapes himself over the wall.

"Ah, look. Already tame." Bond sights like he savours the air of long-awaited freedom. "Brave new world."

"Get lost," Q flips him off lazily.

"Cane, Jimmy? Really!" Alec scolds in genuine exasperation.

Ever impertinent, James answers him with a crooked grin. "Believe me, he enjoyed every minute. You should have seen him. It'll be a special treat. Was he good?"

"No. I helped him a bit."

"Hoped you would."

Lying on his belly, his chin propped on his hand, Q looks on like two men smiling at each other.

Strangely, that's what prompts him to decide some things are worth giving up freedom for.