Promise
Bond sat on the bench and settled down to wait. But his body was still alert and tense, as he was trained to do. He was not so far long in the tooth as to forget all training.
Unexpectedly, a lithe young thing, sat, nay, alighted beside him, the promise of a smooth and flexible body undiminished even under the oversized coat, suggestively angled toward him. Long lashes and delicious eyes hiding behind huge, thick spectacles. And masses of curly hair, hair he would love to slide his long fingers in, then tug so he could kiss the Greek head the tendrils were framing.
Bond shifted in his seat.
“This makes me feel a bit melancholy,” he pined and it took Bond a second to realize he was referring to the painting. However with the quick mind that served him well in the field, he quickly recovered and was already framing a reply designed to pull this lovely thing into his bed.
However his next words were a cold shower aimed directly at his lap. “Grand old warship being ignonimously hauled away for scrap.” There was no mistaking the barb.
“The inevitability of time, don’t you think?” The smartass turned those deep dark pools to his, and let him glance the trace of a dimple. So it was only to pique his interest. Bond was already halfway to forgiving him.
“What do you see?” he asked impishly. Bond inwardly whimpered, and wondered briefly how the museum would react if he took the young devil then and there.
But he was recalled to his sense of duty. “Bloody big ship,” he replied curtly. “Excuse me.” He would have to regrettably let him go.
“Double o seven,” the lovely young thing said quickly before he could get away. Hope blossomed just as quickly and painfully in Bond’s chest. They would see each other often then.
“I’m your new quartermaster.”
Bond groaned in his head. He could imagine the old Q slapping his thigh and making jokes at his expense. “Serves you right, double o seven,” he would cackle.
“You must be joking.”
“Why? Is it because I’m not wearing a lab coat?” Unbidden, he pictured this lithe body in a lab coat, and nothing else.
“Because you still have spots.” He didn’t. He was flawless. But it was the best he could do at short notice to rein in the rampaging lust coursing through him.
The new quartermaster smirked, knowing exactly why Bond threw that at him. “My complexion is hardly relevant.”
“But your competence is.”
“Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”
“And youth is no guarantee of innovation.” Bond squirmed, if they were like this now, he could only imagine how they would be in bed, when their tongues would slide and clash for real.
“Word has it I could do more damage with my laptop, sitting in my pyjamas, before I have my first cup of O’gray than you could do in the field in a year.”
The young devil was deliberately taunting him with images of him in his pyjamas.
“So why do you need me?” Damn it, the tests have sapped him of his confidence, made him painfully aware that he should be put to pasture by now.
“Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.” But by his look Bond knew that Q would just love to pull his trigger.
“Or not pulled,” he countered suggestively. “It’s hard to know which --- in your pyjamas.” He lingered on those words deliberately and looked at this bewitching young thing unwaveringly, so he would not mistake the meaning.
“Q,” Bond couldn't have announced their proposed level of intimacy in his tone more clearly save for groping the other then and there.
The dimple was fully visible now. “Double o seven,” he said again, shaking the other’s hand, proposal accepted. His skin was as soft as he imagined it, as their palms slid against each other, foreshadowing the clasping and straining to come.
Q went on to detail the equipment he was giving to Bond, and his spy brain automatically recorded it, knowing he would later replay Q’s caressing words in the darkness of his hotel room, pretending he was beside him whispering to his ear.
For the next few moments they were all business but when Q stood up to go he had to turn back and say, “Good luck out there in the field.”
So he did care.
“And please return all the equipment in one piece.”
Bond grinned and couldn’t help but drop his gaze to that delightful derriere as it sashayed out of the floor.
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