whackbatcoach



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    Bond gripped Q’s hair, just shy of too rough and pulled him closer, testing, wanting to wipe that smug look off Q’s fucking beautiful face. “Well if not that, how would you characterise our—” he paused, letting the next word come out slowly, tinted black with implication, “—arrangement?”

    Q’s eyes met Bond’s as he very gradually closed the distance between them, never blinking, even as his lips brushed 007’s in a shared breath that was electric with promise. “Mutually assured destruction.”

     

    Wherein Bond and Q can't seem to realize what their feelings are doing until they realize it. Hard.

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    02 Aug 2014