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.