Prompt: A 00Q crossdressing story where q dresses up really sexy just for bond but could you maybe do it fluffy? because q is all shy and a little embarassed about it but of course bond loves it and of course (obviously) smut in the end ;) but just really cute?
Warning(s): Sexual content
"This is ridiculous!" Q groaned. "I look stupid. I feel stupid. I just-… This isn't working, Bond."
Bond tutted from where he was lounging on his hotel bed. "We shan't know until you have on the full ensemble."
"No, please. I look like some half-arsed tranny… Why did I have to be the one to do this? I'm not even field trained. Why can't Moneypenny?"
"Moneypenny is resigned from field duty, and I chose you personally."
Q let out a quiet groan. "Of course, no one else wants to humiliate me as much as you."
"Just come out, let me see."
There was a prolonged silence coming from the bathroom, followed by a defeated sigh. Bond heard the soft patter of feet as Q peered around the door. He simply looked naked from the shoulders up, his hair was still messy and his glasses were still on, he'd yet to put on the make-up. Bond smirked, motioning for Q to step fully in the room. He did. A huge grin set on Bond's face when he saw Q dressed.
Q's girlish figure came into use, the sleek emerald green dress hugging his body, the implants fitted to the dress made him look like he had some form of breasts.
"You look lovely. You'll need to shave your legs, though."
"Q. Even women with hairy legs don't have legs that hairy. You'll need to shave them. Shave your armpits, and get used to walking in the heels we brought."
Q scowled, folding his arms across his stomach. "Remind me to never help you with anything ever again."
"Oh stop whinging. I'll help; back in the bathroom."
Bond jumped up from the bed and manhandled Q back into the bathroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bath. He sat himself on the closed toilet lid and hauled the duffel onto his knee, rummaging through until he found what he was looking for.
"Here. Hair removal cream. Specially designed to leave your legs feeling silky smooth for up to ten days."
Q glared, snatching the box from 007. "That's what I want. Ten days of pretending I never went through puberty."
"Come on, jailbait, just slap that on, leave it for ten minutes then wash it off."
"The box says do not leave on for longer than six minutes. You've never done this before!"
"Of course I bloody haven't! Just do what the box says; you can leave it on in the shower, so you can shave your armpits and then we'll put your make-up on."
After a lot of coercion and threats, Q found himself in the shower, his legs covered up to his mid-thigh with the cream, despairing how his life had gone so terribly wrong. Bond shouted to him when it was time to wash away the cream, leaving hairless legs behind. He quickly completed his tasks and slipped back into the hotel room, towel wrapped around him.
"All done?" Bond asked, tossing his book to the end of the bed. Q nodded, holding the towel close to his body.
"This is easily the worst decision I've ever made."
"Honestly? You don't get out much, do you."
Q huffed, stomping back into the bathroom, gathering the clothes he was to wear. Bond appeared in the doorway, grinning. They both stared at each other, raising a challenging eyebrow, until Q tutted and shoved Bond back out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, clicking the lock into place. James chuckled, slumping against the door.
"You know I could just break in if I wanted to."
"I know. But you won't. Let me get dressed in peace, please."
Bond did as requested, smiling to himself at Q's mutterings of how the clothing was ridiculous.
"How do women do this all the time? This is ridiculous… How do men do this?! You heard about those cage-fighters in Swansea, didn't you Bond?"
Bond chuckled. "Yes. But I think they were meant to look like they'd been dragged through a hedge. You're supposed to look sexy."
"I look stupid. I never want to see a pair of suspenders for the rest of my life after tonight. I'm going to ban them from Q-Branch."
"Are you dressed yet?"
"You need to zip up my dress… There are words I never thought I'd say."
Bond laughed, stepping away from the door; it cracked open just slightly, Q poking his head round.
Q sighed, pulling the door open fully and turned his back to Bond. Bond took a quick moment to rake his eyes up and down Q's body, giving a quiet appreciative hum before reaching for the zip on the back of Q's dress. He quickly zipped it up and curled his hands around Q's hips, pulling their bodies flush together.
"You look lovely."
Q twitched as Bond's warm breath tickled his ear, letting out a quiet gasp. "Bond… Need I cite sexual harassment laws at you?"
Bond grinned, brushing his nose against the back of Q's neck. "If you feel it's necessary."
"We… we need to get ready. I didn't dress up for your own personal amusement."
"I wish you would."
Bond let go of Q's hips, moving around to face him. "Very well, later then… So. Make-up."
Q rolled his eyes, flattening his dress where it had rumpled and motioned the case on the counter. "There. I'm guessing you know more about it than me."
"I know the basics. Have you put your contacts in?"
"Good. Sit down and we'll get started."
Q nodded, sitting on the edge of the bath; Bond stood between his knees, smirking but being well behaved. He completed Q's make-up with minimal flirting, and Q sat through it with minimal moaning. Once it was done, Bond went to get dressed himself, leaving Q to do his hair. They were both eventually ready for the party. Bond grinned when Q made his presence known; he made an entirely convincing woman, only someone who'd seen the transformation would have known better.
"You look beautiful."
Q rolled his eyes, reaching for his coat. "Piss off."
Bond laughed, grabbing his own coat. "Don't be like that, we haven't even gotten to the party yet. Are you going to be like this all evening?"
"I've a full face of make-up and I'm wearing these stupid stilettos. Yes, I'm going to be an insufferable arsehole all night."
"Would you like to take my arm?"
"Take it and shove up your backside, yes."
Bond grinned, curling his hand around Q's waist. "Come on, darling… Don't forget your name."
Q rolled his eyes, checking he had everything he needed in his purse. "Yes, thank you. Don't forget I'm not some whore you can grope all night."
"Noted." Bond ushered Q out of their hotel room and down to the ballroom where the party was being held. They were both on a recon mission, keeping an eye on one of the guests of honour, needing to bug them and their room. Q hoped to get the mission done as quickly and efficiently as possible, Bond, however, was more intent on joining in. He made conversation with strangers, his arm firmly around Q's waist, introducing him as his thermonuclear astrophysicist fiancé.
During a quick dance Bond had wrangled him into, Q jabbed him in the shin with his heel. "I know fuck all about thermonuclear astrophysics!"
Bond grinned. "Just play along."
"James, I know nothing about it! Knowing my luck I'll meet one of the leading minds of the field and he or she will try and talk to me about it!"
"Q, you're a genius, I'm sure you can come up with something."
"Why can't you be the physicist?"
"And what would that make you?"
Q smirked. "Your wealthy mistress."
Bond chuckled, pulling Q closer to him. "I think I can get behind that."
"James, please, can we just get on with the mission?"
"Of course, after this dance… Who taught you to dance, by the way?"
"Fine, come on."
The two men slipped away from the dance floor and got on with the mission, identifying their target and moved in. Q kept him occupied whilst Bond ran upstairs to his room to plant the bugs, dancing with the target, planting another bug on his person. Bond reappeared ten minutes later, grinning easily, pulling Q back into his arms. The target smiled, nonethewiser to their actions and wandered off.
"All done?" Q asked, letting Bond take his waist.
"So we can go back to the room?"
Bond shrugged, pressing their bodies closer together. "If you like."
"Please. Why are we dancing?"
"I like dancing with you… You are aware of how sexy you look, aren't you?"
"I'm not taking the piss. You make a very beautiful woman."
Q rolled his eyes. "I'm not planning on having a sex change."
"Good job you make a beautiful man, too."
Q sighed, looking down at where their chests were touching. Bond smiled, lifting Q's chin to look in his eyes, smiling wider when he noticed the pink flush in his cheeks.
"Shall we go back to the room?"
"You're propositioning me, aren't you."
"Is it the dress?"
"It's what's in the dress."
Q hesitated, eyeing Bond suspiciously before pulling away. "I need to get out of these fucking shoes."
Bond laughed, following him off the dance floor and up to their floor. The moment Q had kicked off the shoes Bond was on him, pinning him against the table, kissing him to within an inch of his life. Q groaned, his fingers twisting in the lapels of Bond's jacket. They pulled away, gasping for breath; Bond touched his hand to Q's cheek, smearing his lipstick across his lips and cheek.
"God, I want you."
Q moaned, mashing their lips back together, trying to push Bond's jacket from his shoulders. Bond grunted, throwing his jacket off and ripping off his tie, before jamming Q's hips back into the table. There was some more fumbling with clothing, Bond trying to hike Q's dress up over his hips whilst Q tried to undo his belt and trousers.
"You've had no underwear all night?" Bond groaned, spinning Q around to face the table. Q grunted, dropping his head forward.
"My underwear would have messed with the cut of the dress, and there's not a cat in Hell's chance I'm wearing women's underwear."
"If I'd known sooner I wouldn't have pissed about downstairs."
Q chuckled, pushing himself back into Bond's touch. "No rush, James, we have all night."
"You've changed your tune from earlier."
"I'm allowed to change my mind whenever I want. If you'd rather I go back to my earlier protests-"
"Fuck, no! Just… stay there a sec."
Q huffed out a sigh as James' warmth slipped away; he didn't bother looking over his shoulder to see what the agent was doing, he could guess by the sounds on him rifling through the bags and the quiet, triumphant "ah-hah!" He slumped down, resting on his elbows on the table, shivering when he felt Bond's warm hands trail up his sides, pushing the dress up even further. Bond hummed appreciatively, digging his fingers into Q's skin.
"Don't stall, Bond, you can touch me up later."
"I'm holding you to that."
Q heard the quiet click of a cap opening, his eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. They snapped open again when he felt the cold press of Bond's fingers, shuddering when the first finger breached him, letting out a quiet sob of relief. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand when one finger turned into two, using the pain to keep him grounded, determined not to come until Bond lost all cognitive abilities.
Bond chuckled at Q's groan of disapproval when he removed his fingers, fumbling to pull the condom out of his trouser pocket.
"I believe you should be more undressed for this," Q huffed, finally uncurling his fingers.
"Trousers or shirt?"
Q took a moment to think before muttering, "shirt."
Bond quickly unbuttoned and threw off his shirt before pulling himself out of his boxers and rolling on the condom. He rubbed a soothing hand up Q's back, smearing the leftover lube over his cock before positioning himself. Q groaned loudly, his head dropping to his chest when Bond finally pushed in, readying himself, holding onto the edge of the table with a vice-like grip. He sucked in a quick breath when Bond paused to allow him to adjust, holding it in before exhaling loudly. He could hear Bond breathing loudly through his nose, able to picture the intense look on the face of the man behind him, his jaw clamped shut. He gave a quick, shaky nod, pressing his fingers harder into the wood of the table; Bond nodded back, slowly pulling out, enjoying the long moan he managed to draw out of Q.
He slammed back in hard enough to almost send Q sprawling down on the table, his grip on his quartermaster's hips tight enough to leave bruises for at least a week. Q's eyes were half-lidded, his grip on the table slackened as he trusted Bond to keep him up, letting himself be used, letting go of all of his stress and control. He revelled in the knowledge that he'd be very sore in the morning.
Bond grunted, reaching out for Q's shoulder, pulling him up into a hunched over position whilst continuing his assault on Q's prostate. Q moaned loudly at the new position, dropping his head back; Bond quickly took advantage, dropping his head to nip and suck at Q's bared neck.
His hips kept a steady rhythm, thrusting hard and quick as his fingers played over Q's collarbone and shoulder, curling around his neck, squeezing gently. Q's body shivered, swallowing thickly, feeling his larynx rub against Bond's fingers.
Bond groaned, tightening his hold on Q's neck, his hips starting to stutter. Q gasped, pressing back into Bond's grip, reaching for his neglected cock. He fisted himself roughly as Bond continued to thrust into him, letting out a low wail as he came. Bond grunted, his hips stuttering as he followed Q over the edge, sighing loudly and slumped over the smaller man, pressing him against the table. Q sighed gently, his eyes fluttering closed.
Bond pressed several soft kisses to Q's neck and stood back up, taking a step away from Q to clean himself up. Q pushed himself up, huffing when the dress slipped back down and stumbled through to the bathroom, pathetically pawing at the dress.
"James, come and rip this blasted thing off me!"
A few moments later Bond appeared behind him, his hands curling around Q's waist. "Literally?"
"Please. I never want to see this fucking dress ever again."
Bond chuckled, kissing across Q's collar. "But what if I'd like to keep it as a memento?"
"Then you can sew it back together whilst I shower."
Bond nodded, twisting Q around to face him and pulled him into a deep kiss, stroking his fingers down his chest before grabbing the top of the dress and ripping it open. Q moaned appreciatively, slinging an arm around Bond's neck, stepping out of the dress when it pooled around his ankles. He pushed Bond away and ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the sink, peering into the mirror.
"Good God, look at me."
Bond grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "I am."
"How the mark thought I was a genuine woman I have no idea… Get out, I'm having a shower."
"Can I not join you?"
"No, go tidy the room, I'd rather not be receiving the cleaning bill when we get back to MI-6."
"Don't be too long."
Bond quickly wrangled Q into another kiss before slinking back through to the room. He tidied up the mess they'd made, shoving everything from his bed and stripped down to his boxers, collapsing down onto the covers.
Q emerged from the bathroom, a towel round his waist as he scrubbed his hair dry with another. His glasses were back on his face as he stumbled over to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. Bond shuffled forwards, a leg on either side of Q and pulled him back to lean against his chest, his arms curling around his waist.
"Have you always been so soft?" he muttered, burying his face into Q's neck. Q nodded, throwing his damp towel at the bathroom door.
"I've been told so. The thing is, I used to have body hair."
Bond laughed, pressing a kiss to Q's cheek. "It'll grow back… and I'll find you attractive either way."
"That's sweet of you. Do you mind if I just pass out now?"
"So long as I can continue to touch you as you sleep."
"Vaguely creepy, but okay."
Q crawled up the bed, unravelling his other towel and dropped it onto the floor before collapsing onto the pillows. Bond smiled, slipping Q's glasses from his face and placed them on the bedside table, littering Q's forehead with kisses. Q smiled back, reaching out to rest his hand on Bond's chest.
"Try not to wake me."
"Go to sleep, Q."