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Eve Moneypenny was a capable and largely unflappable person. She handled all manner of crises with a demeanor that suggested she knew exactly what was required. People felt that confidence and trusted her. Right now she was completely out of her depth and sinking rapidly. Another clanging crash reverberated through the mauve painted hallway, overwhelming the soothing ambient music piped over the speakers. The small square window set in the door was wire reinforced but the repeated random impacts had left a spiderweb of cracks. She looked dolefully at the contacts list on her phone and sighed over the mutilation inflicted on her manicure. She tapped the number and listened to the cheerful chirps that indicated the other line ringing. Happily, the call was answered after only three rings. “Moneypenny. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Bond's voice was smooth as always, the humming activity of a city street behind him. “Q needs help. Seriously. I need you to come to the address I'm going to text you.” There was a slight pause. “Not a social occasion then.” There was the sound of a beep and a car door opening and closing and the throaty roar of a performance engine. “I have the address and I'm on my way but some additional information might be helpful.” Eve sighed. “Q needed some dental work done. And someone had to go with him to make sure he doesn't let out some essential secret. Never mind the dentist is vetted for all sorts of high security officials and poor Q had his mouth stuffed with metal so nobody could understand if he did say anything. Anyway, the dentist had finished and Q started to wake up and just went completely berserk.” “Berserk?” Bond repeated. “This is our Quartermaster you're speaking of?” Eve could hear the man's eyebrows rising. She sighed as another crash rattled the door and an inarticulate screech followed it. “He opened his eyes, grabbed the instrument tray and tried to throttle the dentist with the drill cable. When I intervened, he threw the mouthwash bottle at me and broke the overhead light. The dentist ran into the other treatment room and locked himself in. So far as I know, he's still there. After Q tried to stab me with a dental pick, I closed the door to the waiting room and called Q branch to block any outgoing calls but mine. He's confined to the corridor behind me for now.” Yet another ringing impact. “And is trying to get out.” “What aren't you telling me, Eve?” Bond sounded highly skeptical. “You need to see for yourself. I have no intention of giving any description of the visuals over the phone. Q will eventually be aware of all this and I would like to keep my ATM access and Netflix queue.” “I'm here anyway. Pulling into the car park now. What floor?” Eve felt the tension back down slightly as help was arriving. “Third floor, halfway down the corridor from the lift.” Bond locked the car with the remote and ran for the building, an upscale office block with lots of chrome and glass. He ignored the lift and raced up the stairs two at a time. He jogged down the tastefully carpeted hallway to a wood panel door with a brass plate, Matthew Danforth, Dentist and Oral Surgeon, picked out in an elegant script. The door opened to a surreal scene. Eight or so people with signs of recent dental work, some appearing slightly drugged, some with odd bits of cotton tucked into their mouths were seated in chairs around the room. Two women in cheerfully patterned smocks were reassuring the patients in whispers, circulating among them and offering water to the ones who seemed able to handle it. Overlying the murmured conversations was a flow of soft music from concealed speakers. One of the smocked ladies stared at Bond in some puzzlement for a moment. An awful clanging crash had her turn to the source of the noise, eyes widening. Bond moved quickly to the reception desk, the focus of her gaze. Behind it and to the right was a short hallway blocked by a heavy door with a small window set high in it. Beside it, huddled down out of view of the window was Eve Moneypenny looking a bit the worse for wear. Her charcoal pencil skirt was stained with something unidentifiable that seemed to smell vaguely of mint and her fuschia blouse was missing a button. She watched with a grateful expression as he eased in to match her position on the other side of the door. He heard shouting from inside and another crash rattled it in it's frame and expanded the already extensive cracks on the glass. “Thanks for coming.” Eve jerked her head at the door. “I couldn't subdue him without getting really rough and I didn't want to taze him. I thought you might have better luck.” “What is this, medication reaction?” Bond asked. “I mean a little local shouldn't do this.” “Not just a local. They needed to put him out as well. He's had work done but not in a while and the cocktail they use may have changed. He's been like this since he woke up. Best have a look.” Bond eased to his feet quietly, peering through the glass. He stared, as near to dumbfounded as he had ever been. Eyes wide, he crouched down on his heels and shook his head. “Yeah,” Eve commented. “I'd take a picture for posterity but he'd find a way to kill me in my sleep.” Bond stood to get another long look. The figure on the other side of the door was unmistakably Q. The mop of dark hair, the boyish features but Bond thought nobody had ever seen Q like this. The man in the corridor was roaming erratically, speech apparently still impeded by the local and he was holding a bright red fire extinguisher over his head and bashing at the doors. That wasn't all, however. He had removed every stitch of his clothing down to his pants, an extremely brief pair of briefs in a shocking shade of red with a repeating pattern of black figures on it. When he roamed a bit closer, Bond made out that the figures were tiny black cats with horns and pitchforks. Bond might have smiled if the circumstances were different. Who would have guessed a semi nude Quartermaster in teeny briefs would be so adorable? “Did you call anyone else besides Q branch?” Bond asked, trying not to stare at the figure moving in meandering circles beyond the door. She shook her head. “I rather thought that an almost naked Q threatening mayhem with a fire extinguisher was something better handled by as few people as possible. Especially if actual handling is involved.” Making up his mind, Bond unholstered his personal weapon and handed it to Eve, along with the knife from his ankle sheath. “Better not have these in the mix. He might manage to grab one or the other.” He cracked his neck once and settled his shoulders, grasped the door handle and slipped quietly inside, closing it carefully behind him. It took a little while for Q to notice him. Bond was entirely focused on him and noted everything, including how attractive the man was, even like this. He had certainly evaluated the Quartermaster as a potential partner but hadn't pursued it. After all, work relationships were sometimes a problem and the last thing he needed was an issue with the man who guarded his back. He was now wondering why he hadn't done something anyway. Q had a lovely body, smoothly muscled rather than bulky. Ordinarily quite pale, his skin glowed pink with exertion and there was a lot of skin on view. 'Get your head out of your pants, James' he chided himself. Besides, he was fairly sure a fire extinguisher was not conducive to a sensual atmosphere. At that moment, Q appeared to catch sight of him and began to advance. He paused a few feet away, swaying slightly. “Bond?” he asked, squinting, his glasses missing along with his clothes. “Yes, Q, it's me. I've come to take you out of here.” He tried to sound reassuring and calm but he was a bit concerned about the extinguisher. It wouldn't do to have it drop down on the most valuable head in the intelligence services. “I don't know where he went,” Q commented, glancing around the corridor. “I didn't tell that fucker shit.” Bond almost laughed out loud. He knew Q could curse like a longshoreman when he chose to and he had almost grown used to hearing it in the man's usual precise accents. It sounded quite different filtered through residual sedation and local anaesthetic. He bit the inside of his cheek and said as seriously as he could, “I think he may have escaped. Put the fire extinguisher down and we'll get out of the hall and regroup.” Q cocked his head sideways and then nodded, placing the canister on the floor. Bond did a fast assessment of how best to get the man out of this situation with minimal exposure, both personal and professional. He couldn't very well throw him over his shoulder and haul him out in this state. His clothes were nowhere to be seen. Bond saw an open door at the far end of the corridor and gestured at it.”I think that may be a good place to catch our breath and wait for extraction.” He thought that might work. Q spoke as if he thought they were dealing with a mission, perhaps thinking the poor dentist had been interrogating him. This would play into that assumption and hopefully keep him calm. Q nodded sagely and followed obediently along as Bond made a show of evaluating the room for safety. It appeared to be the dentist's private office furnished with a desk and chair and a very comfy looking sofa. Bond closed the door and moved a large potted plant in front of it and turned to see that Q had settled on the sofa in an ungainly sprawl and appeared to be fast asleep, mouth slightly open and snoring lightly. Bond breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully Q would awaken in a better state. He texted Eve, advising her he had Q secured and to get the dentist and the rest of his staff and patients out. Once she had done that, he asked her to find Q's clothes and glasses and leave them outside the office. She acknowledged and he heard some doors opening and closing as she gathered up her charges, including the dentist who seemed to take a bit of persuasion to emerge from his refuge. It took about twenty minutes before another text from Eve came in telling him that she had left Q's clothes and glasses outside the door and had persuaded the dentist to take the rest of the day off. She was in the waiting room to divert any late arriving patients. Bond settled on the sofa, pulling one slender foot up on his knee to make room. He rested his head back on the cushion and contemplated the figure beside him. He automatically registered his breathing as normal and his color seemed fine, if still a bit flushed. He occasionally pressed a finger to the artery at the ankle to check his pulse. All seemed normal. Hopefully he would wake up next time without murderous delusions. It was another twenty minutes before the long lashes fluttered a bit and green eyes took in the room. Q eventually focused on Bond and a sly smile stretched his mouth, eyes lighting up with a look Bond was immediately convinced was more trouble. “007, James, how nice you're here.” Q moved his foot, sliding it up Bond's thigh, the movement highlighting an obvious deficiency of fabric in those teeny briefs. There was a very prominent bulge that had not been there before and, shit, Bond jerked his eyes away, he shouldn't be staring and getting wicked ideas. Q had no such inhibitions. He moved his foot higher and Bond began reciting the equations for calculating elevation and angles for a sniper shot. It wasn't helping. Q swung his foot out of the way and rolled up on his knees, leaning over Bond. “James. Don't be shy. You're never shy on your missions.” He shoved his hips forward a little and Bond closed his eyes with a plea to a deity he had not believed in for more years than he could count. He gripped the sofa arm with enough force to leave fingernail imprints in the fabric and gave a gasp as Q slid one of those very agile hands around his waist and managed to slip it under the band of his trousers. Dexterous fingers squeezed his arse and Q hummed and smiled even wider. “So nice and muscular. Makes sense I guess. You can't drive a rail spike with a tack hammer.” Q's other hand had moved while Bond was distracted and now palmed his very interested cock. Bond let out a noise a hardened agent of Her Majesty's government should never make and he moved involuntarily into the perfect pressure of Q's hand. Before he could think about getting up, Q had managed to straddle his lap and was leaning in to press nibbling kisses at Bond's neck just above his collar. The roaming hands were making further inroads in Bond's sanity and he was searching desperately for a way to extricate himself. His body was not at all unhappy but he did actually have a brain in his head and he knew he had to put a stop to this. Q was not in his right mind. Allowing this to continue was wrong in so many senses it was ludicrous. And the evil little voice in the back of his head kept telling him to just relax and enjoy it because it felt so damned good and, if he were honest, he had wanted Q for a long time. Just his fucking luck it was happening at a time and place and under circumstances where he knew taking what he wanted was the worst choice he could make. With a determination and strength of will his trainers would have been proud of he grasped Q's shoulders and pushed him back as gently as he could. Q clung like an octopus and Bond carefully disentangled first one hand than the other. Q pouted and tried to reengage until Bond grasped both wrists in one hand and slid him back to stand up. “James, come on. I really want to. You do too.” Q's voice was soft and sly, a siren's song that threatened every single resolution Bond had just made. Bond stood as well, surreptitiously adjusting his trousers. “Q, let's get going. We can't do this here. Moneypenny is ready to go. So get dressed please.” He shifted the potted plant and reached outside the door for the folded stack of clothing. Q glared mutinously, arms crossed on his chest. When Bond simply held out the clothes, he huffed and grabbed the stack. Bond couldn't help himself. He had to watch as Q pulled his shirt on and then stepped into his trousers, the briefs disappearing from view as he fastened the zip. Bond bit back the regret. Q sat and finished tying his shoes and yanked on his cardigan. Bond handed over the glasses and Q gave him another sullen look as he put them back on. Bond knew it was the right thing but it was so hard to keep to his resolve when Q was so irritated and all it would take to bring back the happy sexy quartermaster was to give in. Until, of course, he came to his right mind and flayed the hide off Bond for taking advantage. They exited the office and went to the waiting room where Eve was seated next to the window. “Eve!” Q greeted her cheerfully. “Did you come to save me from this grouch?” Bond shook his head from behind Q. Fortunately, Eve was good at reading body language. “Of course I have, darling. I have the car right downstairs.” Eve gave Bond one more look and he mouthed 'call me later' and she followed Q who was already out the door. The ride back to MI6 was much quieter than Eve had any right to expect. Q actually seemed to be dozing and she was of the 'let sleeping quartermasters lie' school of thought. He roused when she parked the car. “Eve, did I have a dentist appointment?” He looked through the windshield with a distant stare. “You did,” she responded, not prompting him. He would likely remember soon enough and, knowing Q, he would be horrified at his behavior. “Did I really assault my dentist?” He was twisting his hands together and his words were low and level but Eve could hear the strain. “I'm afraid you did. He wasn't actually hurt. I do think MI6 may have to pay for a few repairs though. And before you say anything about me, I'm all right as well. I'm more concerned about you. I'm taking you to medical to see if they can figure out what happened so we can prevent it happening again.” She rubbed at his shoulder soothingly. “Come on. I'll go with you.” The medical staff were waiting and there was a flurry of diagnostic activities. Blood was drawn, a neurological exam was done and the dentist was consulted to get the exact doses and names of the medications he had used. Then they began asking questions. Q was gradually recalling more as time passed and Eve was able to fill in what he had not remembered. Dr. Sidhu was looking at the list of medications and doses. “The record indicates you were given a standard local anaesthetic and sedation via an intravenous injection. What kind of procedure was contemplated?” Q pointed to the slightly swollen and bruised left side of his face. “I had one wisdom tooth that never erupted and was causing a fair bit of pain and headaches. It needed to be removed but was too impacted for just a local. I knew that going in. That's why I had to have Miss Moneypenny accompany me.” “And how is the area now? Much pain?” The doctor made notes as he spoke. “A bit. I could use something for it when we're done here.” The doctor nodded and made another note. “Do you recall falling asleep? And do you recall any dreams while asleep?” At this question, Q began to shift a bit nervously, his cheeks flushing. “I don't remember falling asleep, The last thing I remember is handing Miss Moneypenny my glasses and my phone and sitting down. As far as dreams...Do I really have to describe them?” The blush was growing brighter. The doctor's look was understanding. “One of the medications used has been occasionally linked to erotic dreams, sometimes quite vivid.” Q sighed and stared at his lap. “I seem to recall some images but not really coherent.” “And what do you remember afterward?” The doctor thankfully made no additional comment on the last answer. “I'm afraid I became rather violent. I physically attacked the doctor and Miss Moneypenny and one of our agents who was called to assist.” Moneypenny spoke up at this. “I called 007 for some help. I wanted to contain Q's behavior and felt a more physically imposing agent might be better suited to doing so without damaging anyone. He was able to defuse the situation and I then accompanied Q back here. And I think you might be kind and give him something mild for the pain and I'll take him home to rest.” “How are you feeling now?” Dr. Sidhu asked. “As I said, a bit of pain and a fair amount of embarrassment. I think going home for the day is an excellent idea.” There was a brief discussion among the doctors and Q was handed a packet of painkillers and advised to rest at home and call if any other symptoms arose. Once in the car park, he tapped Eve's elbow. “You left a few things out. You didn't mention the impromptu striptease. I owe you for that.” “I'm not at all sure that was relevant and unless you said something first I was keeping my mouth shut. Friends have each other's backs. But seriously, Q, your choices in undergarments are adorable. I know Bond thought so.” By this time they were in Eve's car, pulling off the ramp. Q gave a distressed groan and covered his face with his hands. “Eve I may need to vomit. I just remembered what I did. Please, just shoot me now. No, on second thought, give me the gun. Your track record is not that good. I will never be able to face the man again.” “What are you talking about? It's not that big a deal. So he saw your underwear. Most people wear underwear and those were quite cute. Do they make those in women's sizes?” Eve continued to drive as Q continued his breakdown. “You don't understand, Eve. It's not just the pants. I assaulted him! I behaved like an animal!” Q's voice rose sharply and he slapped a palm on the armrest. “You assaulted me as well...Ohhhhh. You mean you tried to get into his pants or get him into yours.” She nodded and grinned, glancing sidelong at the dejected puddle in her passenger seat. “How far did you get?” “Moneypenny! You're making it worse. I groped the man and made salacious comments about his...attributes. It's terrible! I'll be lucky if he doesn't lodge a complaint with Human Resources.” He dropped his hands to his lap, his face a mask of utter misery. “Calm down, Q. He's Bond after all. What did he do?” Q frowned. “He managed to disentangle himself and told me we had to meet you in the waiting room. Then he gave me my clothes and the whole time I was trying to get him to reconsider.” Eve parked the car and gave Q a friendly nudge. “Seriously, he is used to people making advances. He knows how to handle that. You may be lucky you can claim under the influence as an excuse. If you had given him the opportunity when you were sober, you would have gotten the full Bond treatment. He fancies you. That's why I called him instead of someone else. I knew he'd treat you carefully.” Q stared at her over the roof of the car. “That is a very bad joke, Eve. I know you haven't discussed me with him. Have you?” Eve giggled. “That one? Talk about feelings? Q, be realistic. You really are unaware of him watching you. And he teases you. It's cute actually. When I called him, he never questioned coming to the rescue. And the look on his face when he got an eyeful of you in that hallway was priceless. I was afraid he might start drooling. Face it, he has it bad.” Q opened his door and let Eve precede him in. “But he didn't seem at all eager to do anything, Eve. Instead of getting me naked, all he wanted was for me to put my clothes on.” Eve shook her head. “Poor dear, still a little hazy. Think. You were incapable of making a decision and he knew it. You aren't some bar pickup or a mark. He's interested in more than a shag. He wasn't going to let you do something he wasn't sure you'd want if you were sober. He had to be the responsible one.” Q ventured into the small kitchen and filled the kettle, waving it at Eve and getting a nod in return. He pulled out two mugs and busied himself making tea. He passed one mug over and leaned against the counter sipping his. Apparently calmer, tea having it's usual effect, Q asked, “What am I supposed to do now? I really have no idea whether I should say something or not. I mean, should I apologize? Should I wait for him to say something?” Eve added more milk to her tea and shook her head. “Wait for that one, you'll grow old and grey. It's up to you. Do you want to try it on now that you're sober?” Q sank down on his sofa, consulting his tea mug as if it were a crystal ball. “I don't honestly know. I mean it felt so amazing at the time. I couldn't believe how bold I was being and how good it felt. I felt like I wanted to pin him down and act out every dirty fantasy I ever had about him, and I have had a fair few. And he let me, at least for a bit.” Finished with her tea, Eve rinsed the mug and set it on the drain board. “Do yourself a favor. Get a good night's sleep, take one of those pills and see how you feel in the morning.” She leaned down to hug him and handed him the prescription packet he had been given and let herself out. Eve was headed home in her car when her mobile began began playing Mission Impossible. “Hello, Bond,” she answered after tapping her blue tooth. She was actually a good driver and had no trouble with the evening traffic. “I just dropped Q at home.” “How is he feeling?” Bond inquired. Eve heard a faint whisper of noise in the background but couldn't identify it. “He's very upset about the whole 'wake up from anaesthesia with a personality transplant' thing. Truthfully, if I had known he was this close to finally getting some, I'd have waited much longer to bring his clothes.” She navigated a roundabout and continued. “Meet me at The Raven for a drink,” she offered, naming a pub some of the agents frequented. She rang off, sure she could hear Bond grinding his teeth. He would show up though. She reached home and made a quick job of changing clothes and got back in the car. The Raven was a few blocks from MI6 and it's old fashioned style and proximity meant that agents and staff were often found there after shifts. Eve checked the tables and selected one in a far back corner, ordering a Scotch with water on the side for Bond and, after considering how the conversation was likely to go, a double for herself. She settled herself and had waited only a few minutes when the man himself entered. Catching sight of her he wove through the tables and seated himself. The drinks arrived almost immediately and the waiter disappeared. The staff here would make themselves inconspicuous until they were needed again. “Is he feeling better?” Bond asked, training a very focused gaze on Eve. She was one of the few people who basically ignored his glares. He was a dangerous man but looks didn't kill. “He's physically fine. I made the medical department give him a mild prescription and saw him home. The bigger question is what you plan on doing. From what I understand he made some serious efforts to get into your tailored trousers.” She smirked at him over the rim of her glass. “Bit of a shock was it?” “He was hardly in his right mind, Moneypenny. I certainly didn't let it get that far.” Bond scowled into his now empty glass. Eve signaled the waiter for another. When the refill arrived and the waiter was out of earshot, he continued. “Anyway, I am capable of defending my non existent virtue.” “You know the doctors said that the drug he got doesn't put ideas in your head. It just lets you act on things without inhibitions. Apparently 'in vino, veritas' also applies to dental anaesthesia. Bottom line is he obviously wants you and the drugs let his impulses off the leash.” She downed the rest of her drink and stood. “I am going to call a car because I know I shouldn't be driving and I will go home and have a lovely time imagining you two sorting things out. Ta.” She left money for the drinks and sailed out the door leaving Bond sitting at the table feeling rather like he'd been hit by a bus. Saturday morning dawned and Q refused to acknowledge it. He had taken one of the pills the night before and his jaw only had a mild residual ache. There was a stitch that pulled a bit when he opened his mouth but that was minor. He looked disgustedly at the daylight streaming in the bedroom window and pulled the duvet over his head. His phone rang a few times. He texted Eve to let her know he was OK and determinedly ignored the other notifications. If it wasn't the MI6 emergency tone, he didn't need to answer it today. Not that he was sleeping. The most he could manage was a sort of dull state where he tried to blank out yesterday and not anticipate Monday. That worked until the knocking started. It was not terribly loud but it was persistent and just irregular enough to be spectacularly annoying. Letting out a huff, he climbed out of the nest of blankets and trudged to the front door, hauling the waist of his pyjamas up as he did so. This pair was a favorite, covered with cats in Mardi Gras attire, and was consequently worn and a bit stretched out. He peered at the viewer and groaned. Bloody Bond. The man was standing on his doorstep, casually dressed in dark denims and a leather jacket and he was holding a paper shopping tote. The bastard had picked out the camera and was smirking at it and mouthing “Open up' and holding up the bag. Q ran a shaky hand through his hair and reluctantly opened the locks. The handsome bastard would no doubt stand out there just to be contrary until he did. He turned away before the door opened, heading to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth very carefully and rinsed with the peroxide containing rinse the dentist had advised he use. It foamed up alarmingly but he kept doggedly swishing it over the left side of his mouth for the recommended count before spitting it out and rinsing with plain water. He refastened the waist tie of the pyjamas and tugged the ratty t shirt down over the waist and padded out to the main room, a lounge and small kitchen area with a bar separating the two. Bond was perched on one of the cafe stools, the bag in front of him. He had shed the jacket and had on a blue button down with the top two undone. “I brought breakfast,” he glanced at the clock on the stove. “Or perhaps brunch?” He smiled and nudged the bag. Q peeked inside and hauled out a pair of takeaway coffee cups, one with a teabag tag dangling down the side and another tall plastic cup and a separate bag with a croissant. Bond claimed that and the coffee. Q tugged the plastic lid off the container he held and found a yogurt parfait layered with raspberry jam. He ventured a taste with the plastic spoon included in the bag and found it just what he needed. It was smooth and cool and didn't require chewing. He had swallowed several mouthfuls before he remembered his manners. “Thank you.” Bond shrugged. “I thought, since I was coming over, you might need something not too challenging for breakfast.” He reached a hand over and, to Q's utter shock, gripped his chin with finger and thumb and turned it so he could see the left side of his face. “Eve said they gave you something?” He nonchalantly released his hold and returned to sipping his coffee. Q nodded and, unable to find an appropriate comment, sipped his tea. It was just wonderfully warm and sweetened perfectly. He sighed and took another sip and almost choked when Bond said, “So is now a better time to discuss what type of hammer to use for a rail spike?” Q caught his breath and stared reproachfully. “You timed that deliberately,” he accused. Bond had the audacity to grin. “Of course I did. You can't expect to make a comment like that and expect me to just ignore it.” He got to his feet and walked behind Q to get to the sofa in the lounge, planting a casual kiss at the base of Q's neck in passing. He seated himself comfortably. “Finish your breakfast, then maybe we can discuss it further.” Q finished the last two spoonfuls of excellent parfait and swallowed the last of his tea and went to stand in front of the sofa, looking down and frowning. “I take it you're not upset?” Bond shook his head and reached a hand up to rest against one slim hip, stroking the wear softened fabric. “I suppose you surprised me a little. I might have made a move myself if I had thought I'd get such an enthusiastic response. I was wishing I could go along with it but...” Q finished it for him. “You wanted to make sure I'd want it when I was not out of my head on drugs.” He reached a hand between them and toyed with the collar of Bond's shirt. “To make it clear, the last medication I took was twelve hours ago, I believe I am thinking quite clearly, and right now I would very much like to get you out of your clothes and flat on your back. Does that appeal to you?” Bond tugged Q forward with the hand at his hip, tumbling him forward so he was straddling James' lap. “It very much does. Can I kiss you?” Q nodded and then said, “Just go gently.” The kiss was as perfect as could be expected when both of them had to be cautious about stitches and bruising but James was thorough and his hands were also doing marvelous things to Q' s back, running up under the t shirt and rubbing idle circles on his skin. Q sat back and and cocked his head to the side and began to feel the same heady lust he had let loose yesterday. He pushed at James' shoulders and began attacking buttons with a fine disregard for care, following his fingers with his mouth, nipping and sucking marks into the skin he uncovered. And James let him! Just relaxed like a complacent cat and allowed him to do as he pleased. He latched on to a nipple and sucked firmly. There was a soft hiss and then a purring grumble and a broad hand rubbed the back of his neck and stroked his hair. He rocked his hips forward and gasped as his erection met the equally solid length in James' trousers and he reached a hand down and stroked firmly, watching James' eyes grow unfocused and soft. He fumbled with button and zip and rose impatiently to his feet, tugging James up after him. “Bed," he announced. James stopped to drag his boots off and followed, trousers gaping open and a prominent bulge on display in his navy briefs. Q was literally prowling around him, touching him and tugging impatiently at clothes until James laughed and kissed him very softly, whispering, “I'm not going anywhere.” He stepped away a little to get out of his clothes and Q took the opportunity to peel off the t shirt and shuck off the pyjamas, herding James toward the bed as soon as he was naked as well. Finally! Stretched out on his back on the rumpled duvet, James was a feast for the eyes. Solid muscle covered with lightly tanned skin, a dusting of pale hair, darker at his groin and a cock that made Q's mouth water. He would have to forgo that pleasure for the moment. He wasn't sure he could open his mouth that wide. But there was nothing wrong with his hands and he put them to good use until he had James writhing under him, sweat slicking his skin and cock leaking clear drops of desperation as Q slid a delicate tongue over it. Q was reveling in this. He groped in the bedside table and found the bottle of very expensive lube he indulged in. It was silky and slick and felt amazing. He palmed a healthy measure of it around James' cock and stroked twice, watching James' face contort in the effort not to come too quickly. Q rose up a bit and inched forward, James narrowed his eyes and bit at his lip, showing the effort to stay still and let Q decide how this would go. Q moved very slowly. He loved this first moment. He held the length of silky flesh in his hand and angled it just right and slowly allowed himself to sink down, mouth opening in a soft cry of pleasure. James grabbed his hips, steadying him as he moved carefully up and down experimentally, finally feeling the last bit of resistance ease away as he sat down, full and gasping. He grinned triumphantly and flexed just a bit, watching James open his blue eyes wide. Then he began to move in earnest, circling his hips in a filthy glide that made James let out a string of expletive laden demands for more. Q made a grab for one of James' hands and transferred some of the lube to it before wrapping the calloused fingers around his own cock and moving them in a rhythm James readily took over, one matching the up and down glide of Q's hips. Q's motion stuttered and he arched his back. “Fuck! Yes!” He poured his orgasm over James' belly and chest and bore down hard as James gave one thrust up and pulled Q's hips down hard, heat pouring out of him as well. Q carefully shifted up and to the side, wincing a bit at the seep of fluids. Deciding the duvet cover was already destined for the washer, he mopped up the excess with it and curled up on his side. James rolled to face him. “You're not at all what I expected, Q.” He kissed the tip of his nose. “Not at all reticent, are you?” Q sighed. “I suppose I shocked you. You must have thought it was the drugs accounting for all of that but I am rather determined about what I want in bed. Sorry if it was more than you wanted.” Bond snorted out a laugh. “Q, if you want to do that again, just give me long enough to catch my breath. Sadly, I am not 25 anymore. I very much like a partner with a definite idea of what they want and a determination to get it. I have no issues with letting you make the rules, so long as I get to play.” He paused and made playful grab at Q's arse. “You have to let me know when you're wearing those pants again. Next time I will take great delight in taking them off.” Q nodded, still a bit confused by the turn his Saturday had taken. “Wait till you see the rest of my wardrobe. The X Files pair is especially cute.”