Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva£ or Bond/Silva/Moneypenny
Word Count: 634
Summary: Eve sees something that she wasn't supposed to. Inspired by this: "Moneypenny walks in on James and Silva and they don’t notice and she’s contemplating whether she should leave?"
A/N: I didn't know I had it in me. That is all. Also my title is so lazy I am shamed. For onawingandaswear on tumblr. Betaed by the fantastic Perfidious Madmen.
==Warnings: Light Bondage, D/s, Silva does a thing with a belt, and Eve is a fantastic voyeur.==
She shouldn’t be seeing this. Shouldn’t be looking at Bond like this, tied up, his back arching into each blow, each caress. Most of all, she should be reporting this MI6, telling them about the man who is doing this to Bond. About the shock of bleached hair, about how he is alive, about how Bond knew. But she cannot make herself move. Under her skirt she feels herself getting wet, and she squeezes her legs together, tries to force her body to move. To choose.
On the bed, Bond moans out at a particularly hard stroke of the belt, whimpers, and pushes up when it leaves him. The loss of it, the need to have it back, shown on his face. Silva tuts and kisses up Bond’s back, soothes the lash wounds. James hisses. “Do you want more my dear?” Silva asks.
“Yes. God, yes.” Bond’s voice is husky and frayed—perhaps from screaming the first few times the belt had hit his back; Eve is not truly sure.
But she can picture it, picture Silva arriving at the house, the two of them sharing drinks, and then Bond losing a bit of himself in the drink, a bit of his mask. Then Bond slinking to the ground and taking Silva’s cock out, sucking it like a good boy. Taking it to the back of his throat and then further at Silva’s instance, his cheeks flushed, drool dribbling down his chin. Face turning red as he chokes, gags on Silva’s cock and loves every second. Silva whispering to him about what a slut he is, how much he loves it. In her mind, James smiles up at Silva, deadly, and reminds Silva that he lets him do this, that Silva would not be able to touch him if he forbade it. This makes Silva angry, of course, so now he must punish Bond—tie him up and teach him a lesson.
In front of her, Bond moans, and Eve realizes that Silva is feeding James his cock, pushing it inside of Bond. Bond is responding hungrily, pushing his ass back to seat Silva’s cock father inside of him. “Is this all you have Raoul?”
Silva growls and thrusts in harder, makes Bond gasp. He sets up a brutal rhythm. Each time he pushes in, she can hear the slap of their bodies coming together.
She’s not sure when it happened, but she’s touching herself. Slouched over against the wall, fingers pushed inside of herself, matching Silva’s thrusts, she cannot help it when she moans. When his thrusts speed up, so does the speed of her fingers, and then she’s flicking her clit, desperate to come, desperate to share in this debauched act.
“Silva, I’m going to—” she hears Bond say and thinks, Yes, let us come, please let us come.
And then Silva’s voice, oily and slick, “Of course you may come, dear, of course.”
She can’t help herself then, and she comes, staining the inside of her clothes and hating herself for it. It’s then that she realizes that Silva has turned to look directly at her. He beckons, and she cannot resist, walks to him like a moth to flame. He pulls her to him and kisses her, wet and dirty. When he pulls back, she shudders in his arms, hates herself a little for it, “Please.” she begs, though she’s not sure for what.
When he smiles, it’s fake and plastic and deadly, and she loves it. She wonders if Bond understands, wonders if he knows that they have damned themselves, that Silva will not let them go until he breaks them, and then breaks the world. Bond looks up at her, his blue eyes glassy and yet full of understanding. He knows, he just doesn’t care. Not anymore.