Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva aka Bond/Silva
Rating: Hard R bc sexy times
Word Count: 786
Summary: Written for the prompt: Q is Silva and the new Quartermaster. James Bond wakes up after having fantastic sex with a stranger and then goes to meet his new Quartermaster. Also a bit inspired by this awesome pic: Here
A/N: I actually got this prompt twice! This fic is for both there-be-monsters-here & shadowreamyx.
It was rare that Bond was late for work but today seemed like it was going to be one of these days. Shifting, he rolled over and found the bed next to him empty. Part of him was relived but the other part of him was disappointed. Last night had been, he didn’t want to use the word magical as that seemed a bit much, but it had been quite good. Thinking back he remembered the way the bleached blond man had held him down, and fucked him until he saw stars. The way that his date’s cock had drawn such loud moans out of him; the thrusts bordering on that sweet perfect edge between pain and pleasure. Under the sheets he could feel his cock harden again as he was dragged back into the memories of last night.
Standing up he shuffled over to his bathroom and turned on the shower. Under the hot spray he couldn’t help but reach down and stroke himself to completion, twisting his hand just so to try to reach that painful pleasure he had been given last night. It was close, but not nearly the same. As he came he bit his lip.
Once he had brushed his teeth he went back into his room to put on his suit. As he was doing so he noticed the bruise of teeth marks that spotted up his neck. He groaned, trying to think about how he would be able to explain that to M. There was nothing to do about it however, he would have to wear the marks as a badge, as much as he was sure that Eve would tease him about it when he got to into MI6.
In his kitchen he spotted the note a note on the countertop:
I’m sorry I could not stick around. Work called. Last night was good, no?
He chuckled and then grabbed his wallet and headed out the door. Outside his phone began to ring. It was M. The man on the other end informed him that instead of going into work he would be going to one of London’s premier suit shops to meet his new Quartermaster. Bond wondered what sort of Quartermaster would meet in a suit shop but he accepted the directions that M gave him and then drove to the small shop located on Oxford Street.
Inside the shop was mostly empty. Suits of all sorts and all kinds lined the walls. In the back were what he assumed were the most expensive suits. Moving to the back of the room he began staring at the only Tom Ford they had on display. His perusal of the suit was interrupted by a voice and he turned.
It took a moment to register what he was looking at. For the most part he was able to keep his thoughts to himself but he wished he hadn’t been so surprised. The man looking at him, Bond had not doubt in his mind, was the man he had slept with the night before. There was no way to not mistake that shock of bleached blonde hair, or the odd suit choice. Bond swallowed, “Q?”
In front of him the man’s lips turned up in what Bond supposed was a smile, “I prefer Silva.” He stopped his speech to give Bond the once over, his eyes lingering on the bite marks, “I am glad to see that you did not cover up my handy work. I would have been disappointed if you had. Now, shall we get down to business?”
Q, well Silva, waved his hand the box he was holding in it waving about too, “Yes yes. But we are not here for pleasure hm? That will wait. Business now, then later tonight I will give you a matching set. As long as you do not die. You do not plan to die do you?”
Bond tried to contain his glare, he felt like he succeeded but wasn’t fully sure, “I have no plans to die.”
Silva handed him the box, “Good, then let’s get working to please Mummy. She’s so grouchy when she’s cross.”
When Silva said Mummy Bond was sure that he was talking about M. The more that Silva spoke the more Bond found himself confused. And yet, he could not help but be intrigued. Not only that, but his cock wasn’t willing to give up what it thought was one of the best shags of his life, “Well then Silva. What do you have for me?”
The grin that split Silva’s face told him he had made what he hoped was the right choice. Now all he had to do was survive.