Author: sorion_writes on DW; sorion on LJ/AO3/FFnet, Tumblr
Fandom: Skyfall (James Bond)
Pairing: 00Q (Bond/Quartermaster)
Genre: Romance, PWP, Character study
Rating: NC17

AN 1: This is just me being happy about the fact that those two characters apparently like sex enough that they make me want to write it XD (I'm usually bored quickly with it.) So you get a lot of sex. And shit going up in flames. And more sex. And, since I'm the one writing it, there will be character interaction, banter and romance.
New parts will be added as I write them. It will be a short story collection of sorts with Q and Bond growing closer over their similarities.

Summary: Despite Bond making a kind of running joke out of Q's "exploding pen" remark by requesting one at every opportunity… it was Q who mentioned it first. The reason behind it is quite simple. They both like to blow shit up.

Mister Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

"Left, left, left, damn you!"

Bond does listen to the voice in his ear and goes left, but not before nearly giving Q a heart attack.
"Shall we dance?" he says, smirking a bit and sharply pulling the steering wheel around.

"No," Q replies promptly and firmly. "Keep left."

Bond complies, which is saying a lot, considering his current speed. "As long as you stick close, we can spin left together."

Q chuckles. "Steady, 007."

Tanner who is standing behind Q bites his lip and resolutely focuses on the screen. He's used to the banter, by now. He's used to the flirting, the innuendo and the seer explosiveness of that particular agent and his quartermaster.

Bond and Q are like a clockwork; so even M has stopped intervening and telling them to mind at least some superficial professionalism. The duo's antics hardly even get an eye-roll, these days.
Both their quick minds tend to go overboard. The banter keeps them rooted – on the job, on the present, on the fact that they're not alone and have a goal other than proving their competence and stroking their egos.

"Don't step on my toes," Q continues, his eyes flickering back and forth over the screen. "We're about to change direction."

"Don't we have limber hips, tonight…"

"Right. Now."

Q doesn't have to say it twice; Bond nearly graces the corner of a house, but goes to the right fluidly and without taking any pedestrians with him.

"Time is of essence, 007. But not that much. Can't have you storm the compound with roaring engines. Slow down."

Unsurprisingly, Bond floors it for as long as he can, making Q roll his eyes, and then takes a sharp turn, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

"Twenty minutes to get in, extract the information, set the explosives and get out again," Q reminds Bond.

"Would have been so much easier with that exploding pen you owe me."

"I'm working on it. Get going."

The plan of action is easy enough. They tend to be. The execution of the plans more often than not requires somebody who is capable to think on their feet, change direction, improvise. Decide to not pull the trigger if necessary.

Getting in and extracting the information turns out to not be much of a problem. Setting the explosives where they need to be to do the required damage is… trickier. Q's fingers and eyes are all over the keyboard and screen once the shooting starts.

"Five more minutes, James." The use of Bond's first name is the only outwards sign that the quartermaster is worried.

"On it. Don't give up on me. I have every intention of bringing back my equipment." The words are interspersed with more shots.

Q recognises the sounds. They're from his own gun. Well. At least Bond's the one doing the shooting.

"Explosives set. On my way out," is the next thing they hear.

He manages to get out, of course. Somehow, he always does. That doesn't mean that both his and Q's blood isn't pumping with adrenaline.

Bond, without looking back, heads for his car and disappears. Q, on the other hand, looks at the spectacle from the satellite images he gets. 'Beautiful,' he thinks.

"Good work, James."

"You, too, Q."

Q can hear the self-satisfied grin in the voice and knows without a mirror that he's returning it.

M pats Q on the shoulder and nods. "Good work, gentlemen."

While everyone else files out after the successful conclusion of the mission, Q stays behind, quietly talking to James as the man returns to his hotel.

When Bond opens the door to his room, there's a surprise. Well, not really a surprise.

"Good evening, Mister Bond," says a female voice.

Q's lip twitches.

"Carla," Bond replies, confirming the identity of the female to Q. "That is a pleasant surprise."

"I thought you might be hungry. I ordered food."

This time, Q does roll his eyes. "Do you want me to log off until you need me again?"

Bond takes his time answering both questions while sounding to Carla as if he is only answering hers.
"That won't be necessary."

Q's eyebrows shoot up, only half surprised but definitely half amused. "That would certainly give an interesting spin to our working relationship, James."

"Not hungry?" Carla wants to know.

Once more, Bond answers both questions. "I'm much more interested in keeping you close by."

Q considers it for a grand total of about two seconds. All the violence (even if it is only via satellite images and sounds) does have some effects on him, and he usually has a solitary wank in his office, after such a mission. This, however, is… probably a terribly bad idea.
"I think I should take this to my office," he says instead of declining the… offer… as he should have done.

"You could lock the door…"

Q hears the sound of a door locking in his ear. So, Bond is still talking to both of them.
"Yes. That's the point of taking it to my office. I'm not about to stay in the lab for this."

Bond's grin is being translated into sound, again, as clearly as if he'd been standing right in front of Q, grinning at him.
"Well… this could turn out to be interesting."

Q locks the door behind him and finds something to drink. "Always wanted to know what all the fuss was about."

Bond's voice lowered to a seductive growl. "You won't regret staying with me."

Carla laughs and then hums, pleased. "I hope you don't disappoint…"

Q takes a long drag from his water bottle. "That's what she said."

The laugh that startles out of Bond is being interrupted by the sound of a kiss.

Q snickers. "Nice safe."

"Why don't you…" Bond starts, and Q can hear rustling of clothes (probably Bond undressing his guest), "… get comfortable?"

Q moves to his couch and sits down. "I'm on my couch. Do your worst."

Carla all but purrs at the attention she is getting. "Do please return the favour, Mister Bond."

Q melts back into his seat and takes another sip. "Yes, James. Show her what you're hiding under those layers."

"Doesn't your imagination answer some of your curiosity?"

Carla, from the sounds of it, kisses Bond's neck. "It makes one hunger for more."

Q bites back a giggle with questionable success. There is more kissing, and Q is sure that it's at least partly his fault by nearly making Bond laugh again. He wonders if he can make Bond laugh at another inopportune moment, later. He smirks. He would have to try…

Q hears more kissing, the rustling of more clothes. Carla's pleased hums are turning into sighs and soft moans. Q's impressed. Bond obviously knows how to use his time efficiently.
He feels warmth spread throughout his stomach. He's always been susceptible to sensual experiences, and things sound very enjoyable from what he can tell.

"Promising, James," Q murmurs, puts his bottle down and leans his head back against the backrest, closing his eyes.

As if on cue (and Bond probably has been waiting for Q to say something before upping the ante), Carla gasps a whine that turns into a moan. A sound that shoots straight to Q's cock.

Q's eyes fly open. "Hmm. Very promising." He peeks down and isn't surprised to find that he's already half hard. No chance to find relief, after the adrenaline rush of the mission, and now this performance… No. He's not surprised. "Make sure the young lady gets what she came for."

Bond hums in agreement. "Would you like to move this to the bed?"

She gasps some more and laughs, throatily. "I think beds are overrated. Don't you, Mister Bond?"

Q grins. "I like her."

Bond chuckles. "I can't but agree," he says, his voice sounding like his lips are pressed against skin. "I'm particularly fond of offices, myself."

It makes Q laugh.

"But, really, any wall will do if the… mood…" he does something that makes Carla moan and gasp, again, "… strikes."

Q's hand wanders to his crotch. "What about offices, then, James?"

Bond breaks the kiss he's in the middle of and murmurs his answer. "The allure about offices, though…"

Carla whimpers. "Yes..?"

Q undoes his trousers and slips his hand inside.

"An office is both public and private. You can lock the door… or not."

Carla giggles, breathily.

Q hears something rip. Condom wrapper.

"I could fuck you up against the door without any of the people outside any the wiser."

When Q hears her moan loudly – James thrusting into her – he wraps his hand around his cock, biting back a moan of his own.

She kisses him, loudly, wetly, her moans coming rhythmically.

"Or perhaps I'd take you bent over a desk, hm?"


"Would you like that?" Bond's question is clearly not directed at her…

Q allows a delighted little moan to enter his voice. "She seems to like the door just fine."

"Would you like it?"

She whimpers. "Yes…" her voice drowns in a moan.

Bond steals another deep kiss. "I didn't hear you…"

Her next moan is almost explosive in its intensity, Bond obviously doing something rather nice to her nether regions. "Yes!"

Q decides that such dedication deserves a reward. "I think I might actually like that…" he admits, establishing a steady rhythm with his hand that goes with what he can hear in his earpiece.

Having got his answer, Bond now really puts his heart into the proceedings, and if Q has thought that her moans were working for him, before, that was nothing compared to Bond's moans joining in.

"Oh, fuck, James."

Bond chuckles lowly. "Yes… yes, that's it."

Her moans and whimpers turn more desperate, and Q can feel his own heart race in his chest.

Bond must be doing something to her that shakes her voice with high-pitched shudders. Q imagines one of Bond's strong hands disappearing between the legs that are wrapped around his torso, stimulating her inside and out, making sure he doesn't leave her behind… Q knows that Bond reacts to adrenaline very much like he himself does, so this was never going to last long. (Not the first round, anyway. Q doesn't doubt that there will be more than one, that night.)

"Are you close?" James asks.



Among his own moans and gasps, Q hardly hears anything else, anymore. Bond isn't saying anything, though, and all that can be heard are moans and heavy breaths and kisses, so it hardly matters.

Despite the audibly growing desperation, Q is startled when he hears her come. He's never heard a woman come, before. (Porn doesn't count. From the one time he's seen het porn, women apparently don't get to have orgasms in them, anyway.)
Through her vocal and enthusiastic orgasm he can hear Bond thrust in abandon, desperate to finish.

These sounds are now very much to Q's liking, all of them pushing as many of his buttons. He stops holding back his moans, squeezes his eyes shut, twists his hand around his dick and uses his thumb to massage the head. He can very nearly feel James with him, in him, touching him… gasping and grunting in his ear in climax. "Fuck, yes, James!"

"Yes. I'm here. Yes!"

For a moment, neither notices anything but both their roaring moans, both of them falling.

Then Q slumps in his seat, breathing hard and laughs, delighted.

Bond returns the laugh and kisses the nearest patch of skin he can reach.

"You'd better deliver when you get back here, James." He pulls a face at the mess he's made and just wipes his hand on his cardigan. It needs a wash, anyway, what with his come already spilled all over it.

Bond hums.

Q sighs, histrionically. "Oh, fine. Don't answer that." He doesn't feel like trying to make James laugh, anymore. After all, he's not alone on the other end of the wire, and the woman deserves more. Just a bit more. "Kiss her – properly and right now – if you agree."

Carla chooses that moment to regain her wits, "Jam… mmmm."

Q chuckles at the immediate response. "I'm very much looking forward to you coming home, 007."

Bond laughs into the kiss, and Q can hear another softer kiss following. An intimate one.

Q smiles, sated and relaxed. "And now be a dear and give the lady your… undivided attention for the remainder of the night. It's almost morning where you're at, anyway."


Q huffs, amused. "I'll log off. You know how to contact me if you need me." He doesn't expect an answer and he doesn't get one. "Good night, James."

"Hm. A very good night."