This story was written for my friend LadiElayne. I hope you enjoy it. Just in case you were wondering, I did not write this for profit and I make no money from it. James Bond and Q and the rest are not my property.
Q affected a deep, put-upon sigh as he looked at his computer screen. Looking back at him, face filling the large screen, was the perpetual thorn in his side, James Bond.
Q was in his home office in London, working late while snow fell softly outside his window. James, on the other hand, was in a posh hotel in Cairo, Egypt, for a mission. They were communicating via a secure video chat system that Q had created at M's behest. She apparently felt that information could be communicated with fewer misunderstandings when facial expression and body language were part of the transaction. Also, it allowed for the quick exchange of visual information, such as the schematics that Q should be collecting from James tonight.
"Alright Bond, what have you got?" On the other side of the camera, James looked disparaging.
"Nothing yet," he answered, his tone of voice bored. "Tonight I've laid the groundwork, and I'll have what you need tomorrow."
Q quirked an eyebrow. "Well then, I guess I'll have that to look forward to."
James smirked. "Yes, I guess you will. Until tomorrow, Q."
James reached forward, his hand disappearing from view as it got close to the computer. He fiddled for a moment, and then leaned back with a little nod. As Q watched, James' gaze wandered distractedly around the room and he stretched in his chair, twisting his neck to each side with a grimace and running a hand over his face.
"Um, Bond? You didn't close the program," Q said after a moment, letting his amusement enter his voice. James did not respond. Instead he tipped his head back toward the ceiling and let out a long, slow breath. Q huffed an exasperated laugh. "Seriously, would you like me to text you instructions on how this works? I'll give you a hint: hitting 'quit' is usually a good way to go."
Still no reaction from James.
"Hey, Bond!" Q raised his voice, even though he knew it would make no difference on the other end. Either James could hear him or he could not. He also tried waving his hands around, on the off chance that he was still visible on-screen. "I can still see you! Close the program!" Nothing.
Q reached for his computer mouse, prepared to close the program from his end, when James stood up and stepped back. The computer was angled so that Q could see a large portion of the posh hotel room, including the foot of the bed on one side and the edge of the wardrobe on the other, framing the archway leading to the bathroom. James stepped back from the desk into the open space at the foot of the bed and stretched again.
Something about the movement stopped Q in his tracks. He had never seen James when he was not… on stage, so to speak. James was always so sure, suave and confident. Even when he was worried, running for his life, facing threats to his nation and his person, he never appeared less than perfectly in control, entirely unruffled. Exactly the type of man who walks calmly away from an explosion and does not turn to look back at the blast.
But now, when James believed himself to be unobserved, the mask seemed to drop off, and Q was mesmerized. He knew it was wrong, watching like this, but somehow he could not help it. With a soft exhale, not loud enough to be a sigh, Q found himself leaning backwards in his seat, hand dropping away from his computer as he watched James Bond abide in ordinary solitude.
James finished his stretch and let his arms fall to his sides, standing still in the quiet space of the fancy but impersonal hotel room. He looked… tired, and for the first time in a long time Q was reminded of how old Bond was. He was usually so full of brash confidence and virile masculinity that it was easy for Q to forget that he was also an older man, well into his middle years. Not that it mattered, of course, and his age did nothing to detract from his stunning good looks. It even enhanced them, in truth, the lines in his face adding character and depth to his already handsome appearance.
Q ruthlessly squashed these thoughts as soon as they were formed, his eyes still locked on his computer screen.
After a few moments of stillness, James took a step toward the bed, spinning around to sit on the foot of it, just barely still inside the camera's range. He leaned forward, his head falling into his hands, and he looked so sad that Q felt his own heart clench in his chest. Then James spoke into his own lap, so quietly that the computer nearly did not pick it up.
"He's half you age, man. God, get yourself together."
He could not have meant… there was no way that he was talking about… what was he talking about? Q racked his brain, but he could not come up with a single thing that James could possibly have meant, except for the obvious. The only alternative that came to mind was that James was talking about another younger man. At this thought, a hot unpleasant feeling immediately flooded through him, and Q blushed. He quickly scolded himself, banishing the thought of James with another man instantly. He had no idea what James was talking about, and should not jump to conclusions.
On his computer screen, James leaned back onto his hands, his upper body dipping out of the camera's angle and disappearing from view. Somewhat louder, he spoke again.
"This isn't healthy, and it's a bad idea." A groan, and then he leaned forward again, coming back onto Q's screen. "No matter how hot he is."
Q held his breath as James spoke. Was there any chance, any at all, that James was talking about him? The idea sent zings of electricity shooting through him, tightening his spine and making him shiver.
On screen, James seemed to shake himself a bit, and he stood up. Q expected him to turn, maybe go into the bathroom or cross the room to the wardrobe. Instead, James stepped forward until he was standing in the middle of the open space at the foot of the bed, almost perfectly centered, from Q's point of view, in the archway leading to the bathroom. The bright fluorescent light spilling from the opening framed his body, obscuring all details except his silhouette from Q's vision.
As Q watched, James brought his hands up and started to unbutton his short.
"Uh, Bond. James. I can still see you," Q said, his voice coming out hoarse and broken. James did not react, steadily working his way down until his shirt hung open before starting on the cuffs. Q could see the light from the bathroom passing through the white material where it hung away from James' body, making the shirt appear gauzy and soft. Then James pulled the shirt down over his shoulders and allowed it to drop to the floor. Q swallowed hard.
He could clearly see the definition of the muscles of James' arms in his silhouette as he brought his hands up and stroked them down his chest. Light glinted from his blond hair as he let his head roll back on his shoulders, and Q could see the shape of one hand come up to caress his own neck. Then he turned to the side, so that his profile was outlined in the light beyond.
The light broke over his well-defined abdomen, highlighting the edges of the muscles there, but Q did not take the time to appreciate the sight. His eyes immediately fell instead to the impressive bulge tenting the fabric of James' trousers at his groin.
James brought his hands to his waist and started working the button there, and Q stopped breathing.
"James…" he croaked out when he was able to find his voice. James did not hear him, of course, and did not stop. Quickly and without ceremony, he opened the flies of his trousers and pushed them, along with his pants, down his legs. His erection sprang free, bobbing softly as he stepped out of the trousers and kicked them to one side. Straightening quickly, James dropped one hand to grasp his hard cock while he brought the other back to his chest, stroking softly. "Oh Jesus," Q gasped. In his lap, his hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles whitening.
James stood in place for another moment, stroking himself slowly. The bathroom light cast a halo of illumination around his dark form where he was still silhouetted in the archway, and for a moment Q thought he looked almost divine, nearly holy. He heard himself grunt softly.
God! He should not be watching this. It had gone beyond inappropriate now and into much more dangerous territory. Q leaned forward, eyes still locked on the screen, and rested his hand on his computer mouse. He would close the program, he decided. In just a moment.
On the screen, James dropped both hands and moved toward the bed. As soon as he stepped away from the archway to the bathroom he was suddenly illuminated again, in the abrupt way of low-quality digital cameras. His whole nude form immediately jumped into sharp relief, and Q could not stop himself from letting his eyes rake across every hard plane of James' body. His arms and torso were roped with thick bands of muscle, his abdomen cut and well-defined. Here and there scars, pink and pale, stood out on his otherwise flawless skin. His erection jutted from a nest of soft blond curls at his groin, dusky red and long and very, very hard.
Q felt a strange uncomfortable sensation of simultaneous relief and loss as James walked around the side of the bed, stepping completely out of the camera's view. He exhaled hard, only then becoming aware of his own erection, stretching painfully against the zip of his trousers as he leaned forward in his chair. He straightened up and reached down to adjust himself, looking back up quickly when a flicker of movement on the screen caught his eye.
James had stepped back around to the foot of the bed, once again just inside the camera's view. He was holding a small towel. As Q watched, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, letting one leg fall to the side, unknowingly opening himself up to the camera. At the sight, Q's hand clenched tight on his own erection and he groaned.
James placed the towel on the bed beside him and then began rubbing his chest with both hands. He used a gentle touch, softly dragging his fingertips down to his abs and then gently stroking the palms of his hands up his chest to his neck. Almost without realizing it, Q started to mimic the actions, dragging his hands across the soft cotton of his own shirt.
James continued rubbing himself, getting just a little bit faster, a little more forceful. He hooked his fingers and scraped his nails across his skin, leaving soft pink lines behind. His head tipped back and let out a long breath as he continued to drag his fingernails up and down his chest. Seemingly by accident, one of his fingers trailed across his nipple, and he sucked in air through his teeth at the sensation. Q gasped along with him, his own fingers immediately springing up to his nipples and pinching them through his shirt.
"God, James," Q whispered to the screen. This was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but Q could not seem to stop himself. Bond was so beautiful, all perfectly sculpted muscles and piercing blue eyes. He was clever and funny and brave and strong, and always always so fucking aloof. But now, here, in this unguarded moment, he had never been so stunning, and Q felt his breath getting short for want of this man.
Before he could second guess himself and remember all of the reasons that this was a terrible idea, Q unbuttoned and pulled off his own shirt. The winter air was cool on his bare back, and he felt his skin tighten into gooseflesh. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes riveted to his computer, and watched to see what James would do next.
On the screen, James brought both hands to his nipples and started gently pinching them. As Q watched, captivated, James pulled one hand off and licked his thumb, bringing the wet digit back down to his nipple and rubbing it gently. His eyes fell shut as he repeated the gesture with the other thumb. In his office in London, Q copied the gesture, feeling his nipples contract under his wet thumbs as little jolts of pleasure raced through him.
After a short time, James stopped teasing himself and gripped his nipples with his fingertips. He immediately pinched hard, moaning softly at the sensation, his eyes still closed.
Q mimicked the gesture, and could not hold in the loud groan that he made at the feeling. A strong wave of pleasure rolled through him as he pinched his own nipples while watching James do the same, making him shiver. His cock was aching now, and he could see that James was just as hard as he was.
James kept it up for several minutes, alternately pinching his nipples and rolling the tight buds between his fingers, making little breathy moans and sighs the entire time. Q watched raptly and copied his movements, his own panting and groaning composing a wicked counterpoint to James' sounds.
Then, James slowly trailed one hand down his chest and across his stomach, the other still lightly pinching his nipple. Q's breath caught as he watched James drop the hand lower, lower, until he wrapped his fingers around his straining erection. Both men groaned at the same time as James closed his hand and softly stroked the length of his cock. Quickly, Q unbuttoned and unzipped his own flies to pull out his erect cock, leaning back in his seat to make more room for his hand without taking his eyes off his screen. He moaned again as he squeezed his cock in his fist, eyes locked on James.
Spreading his legs wider, unknowingly displaying himself even more completely to the camera, James tightened his grip and started pulling his hand up and down his erection. He was uncircumcised, his foreskin covering the head of his cock with each upward motion and pulling back to reveal the fat, wet glans on each down stroke. Q, who was circumcised himself, could not look away from the plump, glistening head each time it was revealed over the top of James' fist.
Quickly, without looking away from the screen, Q spat into his hand and then brought it back down to his cock, continuing to pinch one nipple with the other hand just as James was doing. Pleasure was pounding through him now, crashing up and down his body from his nipples to his groin, rolling along his spine in waves of bliss in time with each stroke James made on his own cock, each bitten-off moan from the other man. Q was panting hard, the sound of his breathing filling the silent office, and he could not quite keep back the small moans and whimpers that kept escaping his lips.
"Oh yeah, oh God," James murmured to himself. The sound was so unexpected that Q jumped before remembering that James could not see him, did not know he was watching. This thought, which should have been mortifying, was comforting instead, and he continued stroking himself in time with the other man, his toes curling with the pleasure of it.
"Oh fuck yeah," Q said a moment later, as James' hand sped up on his cock. Q matched his pace and felt his orgasm approaching, a tight sensation building up low in his belly. "Come on, come on James, I want to see you come," he found himself chanting, without really being aware that he was speaking until it was said.
On the screen, James' head was tipped up to the ceiling, his back arched, and he was moaning continuously, low in his throat, as his hand flew up and down his erection. Even through his own haze of arousal, Q could see his abdomen start to tighten and twitch as his orgasm got closer, and the sight alone was enough to bring Q almost to the cusp.
"Yes, yes, God yes! Oh Q!" James called out, curling forward suddenly as his cock pulsed, semen shooting out all over his hand. At the sound of James calling for him while he came, Q's own release rushed up on him, rocking him with white hot pleasure.
"Yes, James, fuck!" he called out in response as the wave of sensation broke over him. Spent, he slumped back in his chair, hand still milking his cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm. On the screen, James slumped backwards, his upper body falling out of the range of the camera, lower body still beautifully displayed. His hand groped around the bed for a moment before finding the towel he had placed there earlier, and he brought it to his groin and began wiping himself up, still lying back on the bed.
Q laughed softly at the gesture before pulling his shirt off and using it to wipe up some of the mess he had made. He should feel horrible for watching this, he knew, and he probably would in a little while, but right now all he could think of was the way James Bond had called out for him during his orgasm, and how badly he wanted to hear it in person rather than through a computer speaker.
"Bond, you and I need to have a serious talk," he said to the screen, where James' legs were still visible dangling over the edge of the bed. And they would, just as soon as James was back in London. There was no way he was going to miss out on this, now that he knew he had a chance. He smiled to himself, and then leaned forward and very carefully closed the video chat program.
His computer screen went dark, and Bond relaxed. That had turned out to be more difficult than he anticipated. He had nearly lost control of himself and looked at the screen the first time he heard Q moan, and there near then end when the younger man was chanting for him to come he had almost slipped and answered back.
Bond sat up on the bed and looked at the dark computer screen, letting the sounds that Q had made during their impromptu masturbation session play back through his mind. Really, the boy was delectable, and Bond could not wait to coax those sounds out of him himself, drinking them directly from his gorgeous mouth. He had effectively laid the groundwork tonight, indeed, and would harvest the fruit of this evening's work just as soon as he returned to London.
James Bond smiled to himself and then stood, crossing to where his laptop sat on the desk and shutting the screen firmly.
I feel I must confess that I have never actually seen the movie Skyfall, so I hope that these two are at least somewhat in-character. I am mostly basing their behavior on what I've seen on Tumblr, really. But my friend LadiElayne is a big fan, and I was randomly inspired by this story, so I had to write it down. If you have any concerns about the way I wrote them, do please let me know, and I hope you enjoyed my little tale.