slow.
Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies)
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Pairing: 00Q
Word count: 654
Summary: Q teaches Bond the value in slowing down.
[Read on AO3.]
Their first kiss hadn’t been much to write home about.
It was a short, drunken thing outside the MI6 end-of-year party, a moment of warmth amongst the sting of the wind and the peril of Q’s feet trying their best to slip on icy ground. In his fuzzy recollection of the event, the kiss hardly started before it was over. At the time, he assumed it was Bond's way of saying goodbye and thank you and I kiss all my friends, now it's your turn. In other words, all par for the course with a man like Bond, who excelled at declarations made through physicality and physicality alone.
So Q hadn’t ever expected there to be a second kiss, though he thought if there ever were one, he expected it to be a bit more considered.
It wasn’t.
It came late on an otherwise average Thursday when Bond, for no particular reason, showed up at Q’s front door. It had only just slammed closed against the gaze of his nosy neighbours before Bond grabbed Q’s face in those wonderful, broad hands and pulled him in for a scorching kiss. For a moment, he was so swept up in the fervour of it that he didn’t notice his cats meowing at the end of the hallway or the lingering cold of the air Bond had brought in with him. Nor did he notice Bond taking off his own scarf or sliding a bottle of wine onto the hallway table. The world ceased to exist beyond the chill of those slightly-chapped lips against his own, the tongue tracing the seam of his mouth and the feel of cool, fine leather gloves against his heated cheeks.
But when he did come back to himself, Q felt, well…restless.
For weeks, he had been thinking frequently — far too frequently— about how he’d like to approach a second go-round, and he wasn’t in the mood to rush the opportunity. In fact, he quite resented Bond for being in such a godawful hurry all the time.
When Bond pulled back from the kiss, Q hummed in thought.
“You kiss as if you’re going to be ripped away from it any second,” he murmured. As gracefully as he could manage, Q walked them back to a wall until Bond was pressed against it. His fingers played at Bond’s collarbone lightly, slid up the stubbly hill of his throat, then traced around the tip of an ear. Bond had forgone his usual tie and undone one too many buttons on his shirt, probably with the intent of rattling Q. Fortunately for everyone involved, Q remained unrattled. “Here.”
The next kiss was soft, languid. Something to be savoured rather than burned through. They were of a height, normally, but as Bond gave into his pleasure, he sagged slightly against the wall at his back, giving Q the height advantage. He made good use of it, curling a hand around Bond’s jaw and tipping his face up while he sucked at that plush bottom lip, the one that always seemed protruded in a perennial pout. The air between them smelled of Bond's aftershave.
“There, now,” Q whispered, breaking away with a lovely wet sound. “That’s better. How was it, living life in the slow lane for a moment?”
Bond straightened up and gazed at him with hooded eyes. Or gazed at his lips, really. Q imagined they were redder than usual. They were of a height again, which Q had to admit he much preferred.
“Certainly more tantalising than I expected.”
“Then…might a continued demonstration be in order?”
Bond laughed. “You’re a pompous little shit.” Though there was no sting to the words, Q raised a warning eyebrow anyway, and was pleased to see Bond’s laughter morph into something heavier. Huskier. “All right. What have you got for me, Quartermaster?”
“Oh, plenty.” Q trailed his thumb over Bond’s mouth. “Shall we get started?”
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