pairing: james bond x reader
author's note: bond girlies rise up‼️‼️‼️ when i tell you i devoured this game, it would be an understatement (it was soooo goood and patrick gibson as james bond was just chef's kiss 👌). i've always wanted to write something for the fandom (fun fact, the title comes from an unfinished work of mine for daniel craig's bond a few years back and it just worked so well with this piece too), and so here's my contribution!! 🫡 some context: this takes place four years after the events of 007 first light, and james is 30 in this (and desk-bound for reasons to be explored 👀) anyhoo, enjoy!!
The desk job that comes at thirty is but the inevitable end of a sequence of events that began ten months ago in a remote desert compound somewhere south of Afghanistan.
His application for transfer — reviewed, then reluctantly approved (Bond? Desk Job? He’d sooner blow up the desk than sit at it! — Clearly, Iceland’s not been forgotten).
It isn’t so awful, being back in London indefinitely (this is what he tells himself). London means stability (it’s been a good run, nearly five years, which is more than most agents can say), London means routine (he gets to decorate his desk, how exhilarating).
The flat sits somewhere in an upscale part of the city, nestled between a manicured park and a luxurious townhouse. Nice place, not much excitement.
James lets himself in, his days of playing guest now far behind. It’s come to a point where he practically lives here now. Leaves for work and returns here. Stocks up on groceries here — like in this instance — armed with bags from the corner shop (it’s all terribly domestic).
He kicks the door shut behind him.
The sound of bare feet against wooden flooring.
Your face, a constant these days.
“Oh, you bought groceries.”
An easy smile your way. He can’t help it. Never could.
“Told you I’d get them.”
And of course, London also means you.
London means he gets to be available, dependable (he tries, he really does) for you. It means being there in all the ordinary ways you’ve no doubt grown used to. Bit hard to make it for anything if he’s off gallivanting around the globe.
Besides, he owes you this much.
He drifts into the kitchen, busies himself with unpacking at the counter.
The space is familiar, intimate. Has been for a while.
Even before.
The dinners here, he was fondest of (almost always spent with discreet glances your way, because even then, he has always found you lovely — and back then, a line never to be crossed) — all hazy laughter, conversations that sometimes went nowhere, an endless flow of drinks (table’s only occupied by two now). Even his rare, short stays in the city at the time were sometimes passed in the guest room here instead of the flat he’d been given (an echo, somewhat, of his early days with Cressida and Monroe, the three of them under one roof). And then there was that Christmas he’d spent here, the best parts of which he’d memorised — your cheeks, flushed from all the wine, the sheer delight that lit up your face when he’d handed you your present, the playful, insistent pleas for him to play something on the piano, the card game he’d won in a three-player game.
“How was work today?”
You had followed him into the kitchen.
Yes, how was work today?
Aside from the petty theft he committed in the pantry (a sandwich, belonging to one Basil from accounting — said so on the label) and the coffee machine he broke entirely by accident (the latest casualty of a desk-bound existence — Moneypenny touched it last, mate. I’m just saying), it went … quite alright, actually. Reports filed on time (for once), an entire meeting endured (this time without contemplating various routes of escape — he’s identified three so far), and emails tactfully navigated (License not to reply?).
Nothing too shabby. Far cry from his days out in Antarctica, hanging off the edge of a cliff at minus thirty degrees, or defibrillating himself in a car park outside a Montenegrin casino, but he manages.
“Oh, you know how it goes,” he says, reaching into one of the bags. “Paperwork, staplers, post-its, the usual thrills. It’s all quite fascinating, really.”
“Exciting day then, I take it?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly.
“That’s certainly one word for it.”
He continues unpacking. You lean over to peek at the now half-empty bags.
“You bought a lot this time.”
“Enough to survive a siege, really.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
He carries on.
“Just thought I’d do a bit of doomsday prep.”
Tips out the last bag, checks it once, then folds and sets it aside.
“There,” he announces. “Crisis averted.”
The small smile on your face is reward enough.
He moves around the kitchen now, sets everything aside with a habitual ease honed from years of having been in here — though only recently, in such a manner.
Still feels treacherous at times.
Cereal goes into the cabinet.
“And you?”
“Hmm?”
“What’d you do today?”
A subtle glance in your direction (How are you, really?) just in time to see you look away.
“Nothing much,” you say, still avoiding his gaze.
“Nothing much? That sounds … suspiciously vague.”
“Just did some tidying up,” you offer.
He looks over.
“Sounds productive.”
Somewhere outside, a dog barks.
A beat.
“Went through some old boxes,” you say somewhat casually.
His hands still for a fraction of a second, then recover almost immediately.
“The ones in the guest room?” he ventures.
Tea goes next to the coffee beans.
“Sure, James. The ones in there.”
Jesus.
The groceries now lay forgotten as the words slip out.
“You alright?”
A slight shrug. Your voice, smaller now.
“They’re just things that need sorting through.”
Things. Is that what you’ve taken to calling them now?
“Right,” he says.
A strained pause.
“You don’t have to rush it,” he tells you quietly.
“They’re just things,” you repeat.
“You haven’t touched them since —”
“The room needed clearing out,” comes your abrupt response.
And now …
Silence upon silence upon silence.
You stand rigid beside the counter, gaze absent, suddenly seeming so impossibly far away.
He slowly crosses over.
Hesitates, then carefully reaches for you, voice lowering in a way it does only for you.
“Listen,” he says. “If you need the room cleared out, I’ll help.”
No answer.
A thumb gently runs across your skin.
“You don’t have to do this all by yourself, you know.”
His touch lingers.
“Just say the word.”
Nothing seems to register with you. He follows your gaze to a carton of milk that sits abandoned amongst the scattered contents on the counter.
“This isn’t the right one either,” you finally say in a mutter.
It takes a moment to remember what you’re referring to.
“I’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, rubbing your wrist reassuringly.
“It’s been months.”
“Then tell me which one’s the right one and I’ll go get it,” he tries.
You pull your hand away.
“I told you, I don’t know which one’s the right one. I didn’t do the grocery shopping.”
He sees it in your eyes sometimes.
Now.
Why him? Why not you?
James thinks of that Afghan compound.
Double-O-One — Alec — by the time he found him — bloodied, battered, broken.
Monroe was bad.
This was something else entirely.
Ugly. Violent. Slow. Anything but a quick death.
Closed casket. Your face gave nothing away.
Took him nearly four months to track down those responsible, but by then, it’d hardly even mattered.
It wasn’t the first time they’d been sent out as dual assets.
Only ever for exceptionally high-risk operations. The kind that required two operatives and rarely returned both. But they’d done it before. More than once.
All the more reason it should have gone right.
He had everything to lose — a wedding only months away, a life already set in place, a future that included you.
Why him? Why not you?
“I’m sorry,” is all he can say.
Doesn’t feel enough. Probably never will.
“I’ve upset you.”
A faint smile flits across your features.
“A lot upsets me these days.”
He reaches for you again after a moment, threads his fingers through yours.
“Tell you what. How about the both of us go down to the corner shop this Sunday and pick one out together?”
The corner of his mouth lifts.
“My treat.”
You huff out a small laugh that quickly morphs into something fragile.
“God — I’m the one who should be sorry, James.”
He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.
“What for?”
“For keeping you here, for —”
“Letting me mummify from boredom?”
Another laugh. Better this time.
“For being so utterly ridiculous about the milk.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The brand of milk one prefers is a serious business, or so I’m told.”
Another squeeze.
“No harm done. Happy to be of service.”
A beat.
Your gaze wanders off again, smile slipping.
He reaches for your cheek, draws you back before you can drift away completely.
“How are you holding up?” he murmurs. “Really?”
The question lingers, and something in your expression falters.
“Just one of those days,” you manage at last.
He nods, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Been through a few.”
A long pause settles.
Your eyes flicker up to his.
He recognises that look. No words needed.
Perhaps the only comfort he has left to offer you.
James leans in, mouth finding yours.
One kiss, then another.
And another.
And just like that — if only for a moment, he forgets too.
summary — there's nothing but annoyance when james bond joins the 00 training program in malta. you, along with cressida and monroe, sat at the top of all of your classes, as tight-knit as they come. that changes when james decides to infiltrate your little circle in that annoyingly smug way that he seems to carry himself.
pairings — first light!james bond x MI6!reader
pronouns — she/her
word count — 3.9k
note — i played through the entire game and i fear that kickstarted me back into my james bond phase. i also got so attached to the beginning of the game so i wanted to explore that a little more :) fem!reader and she's slightly younger than her peers for plot relevance btw
part two !
THE WORLD ENDED WHEN greenway introduced MI6's newest recruit to the 00 program, you were convinced.
"everyone, meet our new star: aircrewman bond," greenway had said to your class then. bond, who you had learnt was the james bond who blew up the asset in iceland. he was all lines and sharp edges, a jawline to die for and a freshly buzzed haircut that seemed to draw out his features even more. there was a sharp red line drawing down the right side of his face under his eye, and then you had watched monroe beat the shit out of him and reopen the healing wound.
"if he fails, i take two credits from all three of you."
greenway was not the man you wanted to defy, so you had wisely kept your mouth shut from complaining until cressida, monroe and yourself were back in the common room you all shared. being the top of the class had its perks, you three were the first to head out on any training mission thrown at you, but this had you wishing you hadn't trained so hard to get to the top.
five days on, you were starting to lose your mind. james bond was the devil incarnate.
"I'M LOSING MY MIND, cress," you pulled at your hair, exasperatedly pacing back and forth.
"you're tearing holes in the carpet," monroe pointed out lazily. lounging on the back legs of his chair, his feet kicked up on the table in front of them. the poker game laid out in front of you had been to test your bluffing skills but had since been abandoned at monroe's mention of james.
"you brought him up," cressida shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "you know how she gets about him."
huffing loudly, you stopped your pacing just long enough to glare between your friends. "why should i have to lose credit points because he's failing?" you questioned. there was no answer they could possibly give.
"there's been an improvement," cressida said, forever the more level-headed out of monroe and you. it was also no secret that james had been growing on her. "he got the flag in forty seconds today."
monroe scoffed. "still ten seconds out. no way he picks that up in a week."
"i just don't understand how—"
"effortlessly charming i am?" james bond's voice echoed as he stepped into the common room. you didn't dare turn around to face him, just rolled your eyes and watched as monroe did the same. "me neither, think i was born with it."
"and that's my cue," monroe kicked his feet off the table, set his chair back on the ground properly, and then stood up. he gathered his things, "let's go, cressida."
"mhm," she hummed absentmindedly, standing up. "i have to go meet jesse at the range now, anyway." her eyes found yours, "coming?"
"i, uh, actually wanted to steal her for a moment," james cut in before you could agree. this time you actually turned to glare at him as he sidled into the space beside you. "social engineering homework and all," he held up a stack of papers like that meant something. sadly, you couldn't disregard him when your position in the program relied on his success. you caught monroe's disbelief stare at the fact that james was coming to you of all people about social engineering. this time you rolled your eyes at him instead.
with a sigh, you gave cressida a tight-lipped smile. "i'll catch up." you watched her and monroe go with a downturned expression and a newfound resentment for the man standing beside you. he didn't seem to care, simply moving past and sitting in the chair cressida had just been occupying in the otherwise empty room.
"come on," he gestured annoyingly to the chair across from him. it had been kicked at an awkward angle in a fit of annoyance by you earlier, and you suspected he assumed as much considering he caught you mid-rant and mid-pace earlier. reluctantly, you dropped into the chair, sliding down into it like depression was swallowing you whole.
"what do you want, james?" you asked with a deep sigh. "don't bullshit me with social engineering, we both know you're good at that."
"ah, what can i say?" james shrugged, leaning back casually in his chair. "needed to get your attention somehow."
he received your pointed look and had half the brain to actually start talking. leaning forward, arms now crossed over the table in front of him, he lowered his voice just enough for it to sound like a soothingly low gravel. "i think i've found a security issue."
you blinked. "you're kidding me," immediately, you were up out of your chair. "this is a concern for M, not me."
james reached out and grabbed your wrist before you could walk away. "no, just— just listen," there was a shift in james, something more vulnerable . . . his eyes glossed over in a way that you had never seen in him before. james bond was all cocky confidence and so his sudden desperation of a kicked puppy stopped you in your tracks. "if i go to M with no proof . . . i'm in enough trouble as it is."
you couldn't fault that. you half-shrugged and sat back down at the table. there was no telling if you would still lose credit points if james was kicked out of the program . . . but there was also the spy training ingrained into you that made a potential security issue all the more exciting. "spill," you narrowed your eyes at him, snatching your wrist back. james' touch lingered a second too long before he clasped his hands in front of him.
"i overheard jesse talking to someone last night," james began, and when he saw your mouth open to comment on how vague that was, he shut you down by glaring. "on the phone. he's planning on meeting a 'contact' at the the local club . . . now it could be nothing but . . ."
he trailed off in a way that kept your interest satisfied. "damn it," you muttered under your breath. he smirked knowing that he had won over your interest; it was no secret you couldn't help yourself. you topped your class for a reason and he was using that to his advantage. "so you want to go stalk jesse in a club because you overheard a phone call?"
"no, i want us to go stalk jesse," he countered with that annoying lopsided grin. "c'mon, what do you say?"
you puffed air into your cheeks in thought. "if we find out something we tell M immediately," you stated. "and you have to not promise to piss off greenway for the next two weeks."
james made a tch sound. "four days."
you glared. "one week."
he matched your stare. "fine," he caved unwillingly. reaching out across the table to offer his hand. "do we have a deal?"
with a sigh, you shook his hand. "fine, yeah. deal."
"lovely," james stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets and tucking in the chair with his leg. "i'll pick you up at eight. dress nice."
you sunk into your chair with a huff, a frown pulling across your lips. "fun," you grumbled, glancing over at the clock hanging on the wall. four hours until eight.
"IT'S TOO SHORT," YOU couldn't help but complain, pulling the bottom of your tight dress down for the sixth time this minute. "seriously, you could've given me a little more notice. i clearly need a new dress."
"ah," james waved his hand, eyeing you up and down in the same way you had seen him do it to other women in the program. the only difference was that you were in an extremely short dress and not training clothes. "i think you look great. all eyes'll be on you tonight."
"which is what we don't want when we're meant to be undercover," you scoffed, pulling your skirt down once more from james' prying eyes. "keep your eyes to yourself, bond. walk faster, we need to find jesse."
THE CLUB WAS LOUD. it had been a while since you'd been in one, long before you were shipped out to malta and back when you were celebrating your eighteenth birthday. everything since then had been spy stuff, the kind where they didn't send you out to clubs because you hadn't looked old enough to get through the door without an ID, let alone have good enough social engineering skills to do what had to be done on the inside. you were better at it now than you once had been, but it was frustrating when james bond, without training, seemed to have it down quicker than you did.
"everyone's so touchy, christ . . ." you trailed off, letting james lead you through the crowd of dancing people on the main dance floor. it was the quickest way to get to the bar and apparently that was where jesse was most likely to be.
"we're at a club and you look incredible," james called over the noise. "can't exactly blame 'em." he caught your sharp glare. "except it's rude and they shouldn't be doing that at all, yep."
you hummed, not that he could hear it with all the noise, and sidled up alongside a tall side table that still had the glasses of the last occupants that had cleared out seemingly not long ago. "what's our move?" you asked, leaning on the table. james' eyes sparkled under the fluorescent neon lights from above.
"good ol' fashioned tailing," james fixed the collar of his jacket. "i'll get ya a drink? what do you fancy?"
a drink. it had been a while since you had allowed yourself to drink. you were one of the younger recruits, everyone else in their mid-twenties while you were stuck at twenty-two, training your ass off to prove you didn't need the same experience as everyone else to be a valuable asset to MI6. you went out with the others on occasion when you were allowed to leave the training camp, but you stayed sharp. that meant being liquorless and watching out for when random civilians tried to spike your peers' drinks. you liked being the designated driver. you liked knowing that your peers and friends could count on you.
you couldn't believe you were saying yes to james bond of all people. somehow he had been the one to break down all of your logic, especially on this secret mission. you were not a lightweight but that didn't mean your judgement wouldn't be impaired with one drink. and yet . . . "surprise me," you told him, a gentle shrug in your shoulders. you watched his lips turn upwards, his eyes scanning every inch of you that wasn't hidden behind the tall table. you were suddenly very self-conscious about the fact that your shoulders were bare save for the thin straps holding your dress up.
"mhm, that i can do," he shot you that charming wink you were pretty sure he used on everyone else and disappeared over to the bar.
when he came back minutes later, he slid a red drink across the table to you and set his martini down in front of him. it felt quite telling: a sophisticated drink for him and what looked to be a children's drink for you.
james must have caught the gears turning behind your eyes. "it's a vodka cranberry," he answered your unasked question. "pointed you out to the bartender and he said this suited you."
"mhm," you hummed, bringing the straw to your lips to take a sip. it was the perfect balance of tart and sweet with just enough vodka to warm your stomach. it wasn't overpoweringly strong with alcohol and it left you enjoying it a little more than you probably should be while you were supposed to be undercover. "'s perfect. what now?"
"now," james raised his own glass like a mini toast, bringing it closer to his lips. "we wait for jesse over there to move over to the bar." he gestured with his head, and you followed the general direction until you saw where jesse was posted up dancing on top of some girl. his eyes were peeled, scanning his surroundings for whoever he was supposed to meet. jesse was in the same program james and you were apart of — he had the same training, and that meant you needed to be cautious, but it was really no secret that jesse wasn't as strong as the other recruits.
he spent more time in the range because his aim was atrocious, and his main strength happened to be the capture the flag obstacle courses. he had skills, but his heart didn't really seem to be in it for the correct reasons. cressida had said his mother was a powerful politician that had some sort of sway with MI6, you assumed that was part of the reason why he was still around.
"he's gonna see us," you sighed, casually sipping at your drink through the straw. you had already finished half of it with how much it didn't taste like vodka — a very dangerous drink indeed.
"not to brag, but i believe i rank higher than you in social engineering," he brushed off like it was nothing. "just trust me."
"trust you?" you raised your eyebrows at him. "i trust you to talk our way into a broom closet. i do not trust you to talk our way into whatever the fuck you're planning."
"i could teach you a thing or two," james shrugged, easily downing the rest of his martini and glancing back out into the crowd. he left no room for argument, promptly straightening back up. "he's on the move . . . fuck."
you could barely hear him over the noise. "what?" you asked, discreetly turning your head to try catch a glimpse of jesse.
"he's headed into the VIP lounge," james relayed, his eyesight focused on his surroundings. "any ideas?"
scanning the room, a fair few options struck you. you were resourceful, this was the easy part . . . it was the selling it that held you back. but you needed to prove that you were better than james bond, and tonight had to be your opportunity to get it right. it was almost embarrassing how terrible at bluffing you could be.
there were a few options, but you noticed something reflecting the light in a woman's purse. "just one," you nodded, "stay here."
james didn't say anything, just slid your unfinished drink over to his side of the table, discarded the straw into his empty martini glass, and downed the rest of the red liquid.
the dance floor was significantly more dense than it was ten minutes ago. drunk bodies moved up against other drunk bodies, powdered substances leaving light traces on the skin and producing a different kind of atmosphere. it was very much unlike the clubs you had been to back home. this seemed to be a high-end establishment full of the wealthy and infamous.
in the tight, too-small black dress that had been fished from the very back of your closet, you seemed to fit right in in the crowd. smoothly dancing your way through to the centre of the floor, far enough away from jesse, you added a little stumble into your step as you tumbled straight into two unsuspecting women. you hadn't needed your Q-lens to discover the VIP passes half-hanging out of their purses, and so in your stumble, you quickly collected them and tucked them under the fabric of your tight skirt. they hadn't noticed a thing.
"god, i'm so sorry," you slurred your words with a giggle, helping straighten the women upright. they looked about the same age as you, dolled up in all glam and glitter that sparkled under the vibrant lights. you gasped quickly, derailing from the fact that they looked a little confused as to how you had bumped into them when they hadn't seen you anywhere near them moments prior. "oh! your nails are absolutely stunning, oh my gosh," you complimented the two of them, "you have to give me the name of your nail place!"
it seemed to work. james watched on with curiosity as you spoke to the women, all three of you with matching wide smiles. he couldn't make out what you were saying, but he could tell you were gushing over them and they were eating up every drop of it. eventually, you waved them goodbye, air kissing their cheeks and them doing the same back, before moving back through the crowd to reach james. "got it!" you grinned, pulling the two passes out from under the tight fabric and sliding one across the table to james.
his grin mirrored your own. it was almost frightening how light you suddenly felt in his presence. "about to top social engineering class with that little display," he shot you a wink. the room felt like it was warming up. "or maybe just thievery 101."
"mhm, funny," you drawled, "come on, bond. don't wanna lose jesse in here . . . doubt we'll find him again without alerting the entirety of Q-lab that we snuck out."
"i doubt Q would snitch," james shrugged, shoving his hands back into his pockets as the two of you made your way back through the crowd, cautiously making your way to the VIP lounge.
"oh, he'd definitely snitch on you," you chuckled lightly. "you don't get to fuck up in iceland and get away with it."
dramatically, james placed his hand on his heart and doubled over like he had been stabbed. "ouch, you wound me."
getting into the VIP lounge was easier now that you didn't have to talk your way in. pickpocketing those women had been the right move because flashing the little pass at the bouncer had let you in with a respectable nod. "over there," you whispered, moving in the opposite direction of where jesse was seated in a booth with another man. the man was older, his face rugged from scars of the past. slits were shaved into his dark eyebrows. he looked the exact opposite of the cleanly-shaven, young and professional face belonging to jesse.
james bent down as if to tie his shoe. you almost tripped over him with how sudden his movement was. "christ," you grumbled, regaining balance in your heels. he was lucky you were skilled enough to avoid falling on your face. "what are you doing?" you hissed.
he hit record on the voice memo app on his phone. "trust me," he grinned and then slid his phone across the floor. it had just enough power behind it to slide through the people mingling, not stopping until it was directly under the table jesse was sitting at.
"lucky shot," you scoffed. you snatched a glass of champagne off a tray a waitress was walking by with. james pretended to loop his shoelaces once more before standing back up. he leaned back and grabbed a flute of the same champagne off the same waitress, shooting her a charming wink that left her blushing red and beelining away.
"we can't risk getting closer than this," he took a sip and let the bubbles melt on his tongue. "if only we could hack the guy."
YOU didn't speak again, time lapsing like waves crashing ferociously into the shoreline. longshore drift dragged you so far back until throwing you back again, a constant reminder that you were stuck in a glamorous VIP lounge with the insufferable james bond every time your mind drifted away to all the fun you could be having in a club. you hoped to god that the next time you were in a club it would be because cressida wanted a night out and invited you along with her.
"fuck," you heard james mutter in the split-second pause for the song to change, breaking you from your thoughts. his hands found your hips, moving you backwards until your back hit the closest wall. his lips was so close to yours that you could the bitter botanicals of his martini intertwining with the tart sweetness of your cranberry-forward drink. "you're gonna hate me just a little more, but . . ."
he trailed off into silence when his lips met yours. you froze, your hands moving to grab at his jacket as he made gentle work massaging his fingers soothingly into your hips. he was buttering you up, wanting to make you melt under his touch and god it was tragically working.
you found yourself hesitantly kissing him back, letting your lips move against his in soft tandem. until his tongue dragged across your lips, and suddenly you were giving in and sinking your teeth into his bottom lip. he was overwhelmingly everything you hated. cocky, overconfident, mannerless and too reliant on charm as first nature. but, right here in this current moment, you were enamoured. he was everything you weren't and yet here you were, hands sliding up to rest on his chest as if you didn't hate him. as if he didn't annoy you with his insufferably irritating way of carrying himself. as if he wasn't the reason your career in the 00 program could crash and burn after all the effort you had put in.
but none of that mattered right now, and nor did it matter when you broke away to gulp down as much oxygen as you could. his hands remained firmly planted on your hips like he had claimed them as his own. you couldn't find the words to tell him to fuck off.
"you taste sweeter than i expected," he said casually. even more casually, he essentially just admitted that he had thought about kissing you prior to tonight, but you disregarded that by blinking away the trance you had just fallen under.
"what just . . . why?" was all you could spit out.
"jesse got up and started walking our way," he pointed at the booth jesse and the other man had been sitting at. it was now empty. "i'm a pretty recognisable guy, y'know? figured he wouldn't think twice if we were . . . y'know."
you crossed your arms over your chest. your lipstick had smudged off on james' lips but he clearly had no shame in displaying it, so you kept your mouth shut. he had surely kissed enough girls to know that lipstick smudged. he wore it like a badge of honour and somehow that made you feel hotter than that kiss did.
"get your phone," was all you said, shaking any james bond related thoughts away. "hopefully we got something good out of all that fuss."
james cracked a lopsided smile, "dunno," he winked again, "thought that kiss was something good."
you glared at him. a laugh tumbled past his lips as he held his hands up in surrender, backing away to go grab his phone from under the booth with a 'sorry, lads, must've dropped my phone', to the new group that had slid into the booth.
you left the VIP lounge before he had a chance to catch up.
GREENWAY WAS WAITING BY the entrance to the training camp when james and you finally made it back. it was early morning, maybe two o'clock, and he looked incredibly unhappy.
"busted," james held his hands up in surrender, much like he did back when you glared at him in a similar fashion to how greenway currently was back in the club.
"you've got some explaining to do," his eyes flickered between the two of you dangerously. "especially you," he said your last name with enough fire to light the embers in your stomach. "my office, now."
𑣲 saturday, 04:00am. 《 not proof-read i'm sleepy ash 》
ᚑ ᚑ you haven't slept properly for these past few days. you're pretty much aware that you missed most of the moonlit nights by forcing yourself to stay awake, instead of getting your deserved rest.
james noticed. of course he would. he always does whenever it comes to you. it's always, always so obvious enough even though you made some attempts to make up any sort of excuse, which obviously doesn't work on him.
he did consider of scolding you for it, telling you that you shouldn't sacrifice your very much needed slumber even for a job. or worse, whenever he is away on a mission and clearly missing from home, you would've do it again and again while being unbothered.
simply because he isn't there at home with you. no one else to reprimand your stubborn self.
but today is different. he got a week off, at least— that's what he's informed with, and he's determined to make you fix your horrible sleeping schedule which is a clearly obvious behaviour by now.
"sweetheart, come to bed."
"james, i can't, i—" you tried to refuse while your eyes are already in a swollen-ish state, shaking your head slightly but it didn't last when he ultimately, and swiftly lifts you into a bridal style to bed, earning a surprised squeal from you.
"i won't accept any refusal from you, love. you've been sitting there for hours."
"the bed is starting to get cold without you."
every words that you wanted to speak out as a reply dies down in your throat, beginning to feel guilty as james settles you properly next to him, pulling you closer to the natural warmth he seemed to provide as always.
he never once lets go of his hold around you, planting a kiss atop of your forehead and gently run his thumb along your features— whichever he could reach.
and when he stopped just near where your eyes are, he tenderly attempts to soothe the swollen spot around it; where at this point your eyes has shut on its own from his touch alone.
dear god, you're genuinely, utterly exhausted. he has every right to be mad and scold you for whenever he wants to, and he truly did.
but not for long, no. he couldn't stay annoyed at you no matter how much he wants to at times.
he fears he loves you a little too much. he couldn't even contain the small chuckle from escaping past his lips upon witnessing the sight of you, already falling into your needed slumber just within a few seconds.
with a final peck upon your cheeks, your forehead, and even your nose, he murmurs a simple 'rest well, darling' closely for your hearing only.
even when you failed to realize it as much due to your current state.
A/n: EEYYY! Here's that smut I promised 50,000 years ago.
Warnings: desperate • confined space • Bond absolutely folding for his wife • Public / Semi-public sex.
Let me know if you want part 2 👀 ( cause I have more )
James Bond knew two things with absolute certainty.
One: His Aston Martin DB5 was not meant for… this.
Two: He was going to lose this argument.
“Absolutely not.”
You turned in the passenger seat, already halfway climbing over the console. “Oh come on.”
James didn’t even look at you.His grip on the steering wheel tightened, the man about to pull out of the parking space. “This is a vehicle, not—”
You swung one leg over his lap.
He stopped talking and slowly…he turned his head.
“…don’t.”
You smiled sweetly. “Too late.”
You settled fully in his lap, your weight warm, your dress riding up your thighs as you straddled him in the driver’s seat.
The confined space made everything worse.
Or better.
Depending on perspective.
James exhaled slowly. “You’re aware,” he said carefully, “that this is deeply impractical.”
You leaned forward, your chest pressing into his as your fingers played with his tie. “I’m American,” you whispered. “We improvise.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re impossible.”
You rocked your hips slightly.
James’s breath hitched. “…and you’re doing that on purpose.”
“Obviously.”
His hands hovered for a moment. Trying, very hard, to remain a gentleman.
Failing.
They settled on your hips.
Firm.
Warm.
Grounding.
“You realize,” he murmured, voice dropping, “if we start this, I won’t be able to stop.”
You leaned in, brushing your lips against his.“Good.”
That was all it took.
James kissed you.
Hard.
Controlled at first but the second you rolled your hips again, pressing down onto him, that control cracked.
“Christ—” he breathed against your mouth.
Your hand slid between you, freeing his cock from his trousers. It sprang up, already hard, brushing against your inner thigh.
You smiled. “Missed me?”
He huffed a quiet, strained laugh. “You have no idea.”
You lifted slightly, guiding him between your thighs.
The angle was awkward.
The space was tight.
You didn’t care.
Neither did he.
“Careful—” he started.
You sank down onto him.
Both of you groaned.
“—too late,” he finished weakly.
You stilled for a second, adjusting to the fullness, your hands gripping his shoulders as the cramped position forced you closer than usual.
“Oh—”
James’s head fell back against the seat. “Bloody hell…”
You laughed breathlessly. “Language, Mr. Bond.”
He opened his eyes, looking up at you with something dark and entirely undone. “You’re going to ruin this car.”
You rolled your hips. “Worth it.”
His hands tightened on your waist immediately as you started to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm despite the tight space, the console pressing awkwardly against your thigh.
“Careful,” he muttered, voice strained, though he made no move to stop you.
You didn’t listen but then again you never did. Your pace picked up, your body rising and falling over him, your breath soft and uneven as the friction built quickly in the confined space.
James groaned, his head tipping back again, hands still holding your hips. “This is...this is a terrible idea—”
You leaned down, lips brushing his ear then gave it a nip. “You love it."
His hands slid higher, gripping your hips harder.
“I do,” he admitted.
His composure was slipping fast.Every small movement of your body made it worse, the way you shifted, the way your thighs tightened around him, the way your breath broke right against his neck.
“Look at you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Can’t even wait until we get home—”
You kissed him again, cutting him off.Your hips moved faster.
His restraint shattered.“Alright..” he breathed, “alright, you asked for this—”
His hands took control, guiding your hips now, helping you move in a sharper rhythm despite the cramped seat, the steering wheel pressing into your side.
“Oh....James—” Your lips parted.
He groaned at the sound of his name.“That’s it...keep going—”
Your nails dug into his shoulders as the pressure built too quickly, the angle hitting deeper with every movement. “James....I’m—”
“I know.”
His voice was low now.
Focused.
“You’re not stopping, darling.”
Neither was he.
Your orgasm hit first, your body tightening around him as you gasped against his mouth.
That was all it took.
James groaned your name, his grip tightening as he thrust up into you once, twice, then held you down as he came, completely undone beneath you.
Just breathing.
Just heat.
Just the faint ticking of the cooling engine.
You leaned your forehead against his. “…worth it.”
James let out a breathless laugh. “…absolutely not.”
You grinned. “You’re lying.”
He looked up at you, still holding your waist. “…I am.”
! james loves spanking as a punishment for when you've been a brat
tw, spanking, dacryphilia
he's got such a steady, hard hand when he spanks and doesn't hesitate with being rough. he knows you can take it. pushing up the dress or skirt you're wearing to pull down your panties for easy access while you're splayed across his lap. it sets him off even more when he finds you without any on.
james is the type to rub over the area he's just slapped so sweetly, thinking that the next hit would be the last... and the surprise of his hand reddening your skin is a welcome one each time he hits again. the cool air against your skin is free from such a stinging pain even if brief, but it's so welcome when he's damn good at it.
he chuckles seeing you such a mess, greedy and pushing against him and begging to make it up to him. but james doesn't fall for your tricks that easy. you're soaking by the fifth slap; it's a sight to see how much this turns you on.
"james pleaaseee..." "going to admit you were being stubborn earlier? just say it and i'll stop..." but all you do is whine and hear him chuckle before landing another slap on your skin. he's never been one to forgive you that easily, especially when you're just being a brat.
he'd even taunt you.. "aw, love. you say no more but you're soaking down my palm. care to explain?" you can't even find the words before another slap sounds out and has you squealing with pleasure.
"please, no more james..." "no no love, just one more" and then one more becomes ten until he knows you're about to cry. it gets him off so much knowing he can bring you pleasure that doubles as pain. he keeps you across his lap when he's done, using warmed oil or lotion on your skin to soothe it.
he wants to say "that'll teach you to push my buttons before thinking twice," but he knows it'll happen again and again. because far be it from him to let you get away with acting such ways when he can put you in your place in such a way.
Summary: Bond has to make a decision about someone he loves.
A/N: Hello lovelies,
Oh my dear lovelies, oh sweethearts. I AM SO SORRY for going dark.
As some of you may have read from my last announcement, things got a bit hectic when my mom was in the hospital. It was a scary and crazy experience, she basically became paralyzed from her chest down. I’m talking about an extremely active woman who was on her feet working 10-12 hour days to not being able to move at all.
We had to rush her to emerge and find out she had contracted some rare bacteria that affected her spine. Needless to say she was in the hospital for a month, and finally was discharged about three weeks ago and is now staying at my brothers. Which is great for her since he has a bungalow and makes it easier for her to move around as she’s learning to walk again. However, that does mean we have to travel a bit to visit her and take care of her when my brother and his family can’t.
Anyway ... long story short, too late. I am back, I am going to try to catch up on some of our lovely stories. I also have a special surprise for you guys, which I’ll upload sometime this week. I’m currently working on Crosshair’s section of the Gym Membership and then SOTF, the Reunion and Upside Down, and I’m also going to be working on a one-off request that I received. Keep your eyes peeled for those.
Thank you all for sticking around, for sending me love, and for checking up on me, you have all been super amazing and wonderful.
A special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles and @ulchabhangorm for being my beta readers. Love oo.
Italics - flashback
Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blindfolded, smoking, prisoners, cages, feelings of mistrust, bleeding, injury, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know.
AO3 Link | DC Characters Master List | Main Master List
The blindfold covering Bond’s eyes finally started to slip down after hours of the corrosive material rubbing against his eyelids, but if this little irritant put him off from his mission, he shouldn’t’ve been able to call himself a double O.
It been more than three hours, closing on four, since he’d gotten into the first vehicle and the fabric was placed on his eyes. Since then, he’d been moved to two subsequent vehicles, each more uncomfortable then the one previous.
They were travelling across increasingly bumpier roads, from the cobble stones they started out on, to the rural roads he deduced they were currently on. With each bump he felt the rough material scrape across his skin, there was no doubt his eyelids would be rubbed raw by the end of the journey.
Despite the increasing discomfort, he focused his attention on what was happening around him.
As the car began to slow down, he expected a gentle stop, of course that was before his whole body shifted forward violently. He would’ve hit the seat in front of him, if he hadn’t engaged his core muscles doing his best to remain upright as the driver slammed on the brakes. He shifted himself back against the seat, as another vehicle slowly approached them.
The car that had been stifling since he’d been shifted into it, finally received a breath of fresh air, as he felt a rush of wind blow across his face and hair when the door flung open.
Someone grabbed his arm with force, shifting him forcibly from his seat. This wasn’t his first clandestine meeting he attended, yet every time they always decided to yank the blindfolded person from a vehicle; come to think of it, he was guilty of that as well. There was an inherent expectation that the one blindfolded wouldn’t fall, and would be able to follow the silent instructions.
Maybe just for fun, the next time he was going to fall to the ground just to throw them off, and chuckle at hearing them become all flustered.
There was an eerie silence that seemed to hang in the air as he got out of the car, it wasn’t necessarily threatening or dangerous per se, but a seemingly tense atmosphere between the two drivers themselves, maybe an affair of the heart, or simply rivals for one thing or other. He concluded he was being transferred to yet another vehicle, as his guide pushed him forward, hopefully this would be the last vehicle transfer before arriving at his destination.
His guide kicked his left foot, trying to push it up onto a ledge, he didn’t need much prodding as he stepped up doing his best to gain some form of balance, when he was shoved into the seat. There was no doubt it was an older truck, the cracked leather seats felt as though thousands of tiny pins were poking his butt as he shifted to find a somewhat comfortable spot.
It didn’t take long to get them on the road again, the further they drove on, the more he was able to determine their heading. The bumps in the road had started to appear less and less, instead it became increasingly dusty from what he could gather as he breathed in more dust from the air vents. The noise from the city vanished completely and replaced by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and birds squawking from above. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t passed another vehicle in the past thirty minutes, which could only mean they were in an even more isolated area then they had been previously.
The truck shifted gears as it began to slow down, the driver turning ever so gently before he decided to slam on the brakes, lurching him forward once again. He was seriously thinking about talking to whoever taught these guys how to drive. He was trying to brace himself before hitting the dash, only to be pushed back this time into his seat by his guide’s forearm; he wasn’t sure but there was a high probability he would have a bruise on his chest later. At least he could say there was some concern about his safety, relatively speaking.
The relative peace that had surrounded him was now replaced by the sound of various footsteps rushing towards the truck, when the door flung open.
“Get out!” The voice demanded without any further explanation or care. Either from the person’s lack of English or simply they didn’t wish to expand more than the two words because of the unbearable heat beating down against them, the breeze that he had enjoyed was now a distant memory. It hadn’t been so bad in the truck as they drove on their way, but now that it was idle, the lack of breeze, the humidity, and the sun bearing down on them started to feel stifling.
Though he still couldn’t see much as he moved out of the truck, he was able to see something through the fabric covering his eyes, from the small opening provided by the shift of the blindfold. It was mostly outlines of objects, shapes that provided a hint as to what he was seeing against the bright sun and bluish-grey sky.
He took in a deep breath, there was a hint of salt in the air brushing against his tongue as he licked his lips; so they’d been travelling closer to the sea. Possibly the Pacific Ocean side as the air wasn’t as salty compared to the Atlantic. The thickness from the rustling of the trees was no mistake they were somewhere dense, either near the border of the forest, or just on the edges of an abandoned village.
The humidity surrounding him, simply reaffirmed his suspicions, it was thick and suffocating. They had driven closer to the coastline.
Someone grabbed his arm pushing him foward, he could hear sounds of people moving around him, out of his and his guide’s way. Not completely disappearing simply moving off to the side, as they whispered among themselves. He could feel eyes analyzing and scrutinizing his every move, waiting for an opportunity to strike, despite his hands still being restrained.
As he walked along, his foot bounced off the corner of a box he estimated as best he could from the sound and movement of what he hit. His theory was confirmed as his guide shoved him down onto the seat. He adjusted himself as best he could, as someone cut the zip-ties binding his hands, seconds after his wrists felt sweet relief, his blindfold was yanked off without any concern.
It took him a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, probably could’ve been worse if his blindfold hadn’t slipped, allowing his eyes to adjust even just a little.
“Bienvenido Señor Bond” the thick Spanish accent coming from the heavyset woman sitting in front of him. The structure in front of him, if he could call it that, provided enough shade for her and her table, leaving the rest of her people and Bond to experience the full heat of the sun. The air was filled with the smell of the cheap cigars she was smoking, the smell flowing over and encapsulating him, making him want to eliminate whoever invented those foul-smelling cheap cigars as he held back the bile that was rising.
He left off a light cough, doing his best to be his most charming self possible, “I’m grateful for the meeting Señora, it’s truly a pleasure to be in front of so much beauty ”
“A great pleasure as well, Señor Bond, I understand you are looking for information” she took a long drag from her cigar, the ashes flicking off in the breeze and creating more of the nasty smell.
Bond nodded “As a gratitude for giving me the opportunity for this meeting” he motioned to the man beside him who had been carrying his bag, the same man he met in the city before they started off on the long voyage to the middle of nowhere, he must have been in the vehicles with him each time he transferred or travelled ahead of him, “a small fee to show my appreciation for the inconvenience this has caused you.”
The man, loomed over them as he stepped closer, as tall and broad as he was, the man barely made a sound as he gently placed the bag in front of her.
She eyed Bond, not saying anything as she took an even longer drag of her cigar, she motioned to one of her subordinates to open the case revealing it full of money.
“American?” She asked as the smoke exhaled through her mouth and nose.
“Of course”
She took another puff “What is the information?”
“Several days ago, a man travelled through the area with a backpack”
“There are many men who travel through this area with backpacks, Señor”
“Of course, however, I believe he is a guest of your wonderful facilities, currently” he motioned towards the rundown prisons, well what appeared to be prisons. They were mere barriers out in the open, simply branches tied together with rope, to form cages to keep the unwanted contained.
She simply shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She motioned with her cigar towards Bond, “Do you have a picture of this man?”
Without a word he pulled out a 4 x 6 picture of the man from his pocket. One of the requirements of meeting her was no technology was allowed. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. Nothing that could connect him to the outside world.
Despite the oddity, it didn’t really matter to him why she was being extremely cautious, all he cared about was the reason he was there. He passed the picture to her aide who was waiting to receive the image, she leaned over taking a long look at the picture, taking another drag nodding slowly in agreement.
“You are correct, Señor Bond, this man is indeed one of our guests of our, as you say, wonderful facilities.”
Bond couldn’t help smirk at this fool’s misfortune, frankly he could care less about the predicament he found himself in, “I hope he’s enjoying his stay then, what I’m more interested in, is the backpack this man had with him.”
She hummed as she took another drag, the smoke flaring out of her nostrils, “Was there something special in this backpack?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the man sitting in front of her, “If there was something my men overlooked…” her eyes narrowing on two men who were standing off to the side, as her anger flared along with her nostrils towards her men, “I would be very disappointed.”
James knew better than to show his hand, after all it wasn’t anything that was obvious to the untrained eye, “Not in the least, the backpack is in fact mine. The man stole it from me, and I simply wish to reclaim it back.”
Another hum from the woman followed his statement, as she took a final drag of her cigar, putting it out on an overfilled ashtray.
“Why so much money to simply retrieve what was stolen?”
“There is a copy of a book that was given to me by my late wife, it was the last gift she gave me before she passed away; it means the world if I was able to get it back.”
She called over one of her men, whispering to him, careful to not let her conversation be overheard. Within seconds the man brought the dull beige backpack, still intact, at least from what Bond could tell.
“Would you mind if I confirm it’s contents, I would hate for anything to be missing or for the book to have been lost”
She motioned for him to stand, as her men surrounded Bond from all areas, their eyes watching his every move. He opened it fully, the clothes neatly stacked on top, a dog eared book of ‘How to Kill a Mockingbird’ sitting there, along with a toiletry bag, he opened it seeing a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and shaving cream.
“As you can see there is nothing special in this bag, except for the book. This was the book she left me before …” his hand caressed the book tenderly, before he zipped up the bag, looking as undisturbed as before, retaking his seat on the crate.
“It appears so” her voice was weary.
“Thank you for retrieving my belongings, I would like to compensate you of course, for your troubles.” He put his hands inside his pockets, pulling out two stacks of a hundred American dollars placing them on the table in front of her, “There’s about $20,000 here, as a personal thank you.”
“Señor Bond you are quite good at making friends” she smirked as she slowly picked up the bundles, “Ernesto will take you back to the village. If you ever need my services again, I am more than happy to help.”
“Señora” Bond bowed, giving her his whimsical smile, as he followed Ernesto back to the truck, he sat down the backpack in between his legs, as he was blindfolded once again for the long journey back.
- - - - - - - - - - -
The book lay beside Q’s laptop as it’s front pastedown was peeled back, leaving only the indent of a microchip in its wake.
“Q, is the information compromised or not?” Mallory was annoyed as the youngish technician appeared to be taking his time with providing answers that he desperately needed.
“Don’t worry” Bond intervened, “Q’s probably confirming for the third time before he gives us any answers. You know how annoyingly diligent he can be.”
Q focused his attention back on the computer screen doing his best to ignore the comments; however he knew no amount of rechecking would change the answer that laid before him. He leaned back after reading the information for the third time, “Only one identity was compromised”
“Why aren’t you more concerned!” Mallory’s patience was at an end.
“Because it was compromised two weeks ago”
Silence filled the room, as the weight of what was discovered sunk in; the identity of their undercover agent was already revealed, the chances they were still alive were remote if even possible.
Mallory leaned against the desk, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d prided himself on doing all he could for his agents, there would always be deaths in this field that was inevitable, but he always wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone. They had support, backup, as much as he was able to offer.
“Who was it?” Mallory mumbled out as his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to squeeze out the shame and guilt he felt. No one realized there'd been a breach, until it was too late, and then finding out who breached their network, how it was breached took even more time. He failed them, and nearly had others killed.
Q glanced from Mallory to Bond, a heaviness rested in his chest, the next words he was about to utter would change his friend’s life forever. He focused back on the computer, maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a different person with a similar name and same date of birth, who just happened to have taken over the same undercover name. After all he’s made mistakes before, this could just be one of those unfortunate blunders, it would be better to keep this between Mallory and himself, “Maybe we should …” Q was about to say ‘discuss this in private,’ when Bond cleared his throat.
“Q … say it” James wanted to be wrong, he wanted the name that popped into his head, the moment Q said an identity had been leaked, to be different from the name Q was getting ready to say.
“007 …”
“Q. Say. It.” James’ voice was tense, his eyes focused on Q’s, taking notice of every twitch, the number of blinks, even every bead of sweat on Q’s face, it all told him a story. Told him to expect the worse.
Q took the time to focus on Bond’s demeanour, there was no way around it. He wanted to know and no amount of coaxing or trying to pull the old ‘need to know’ routine would stop him. If he didn’t provide him with the information, he’d just break into his computer later and look for it himself, and the last thing Bond needed was a charge of treason. He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes trying to calm the unpleasant dreary sensation in his heart. He nibbled on his bottom lip, hoping the numbing sensation would make it easier to say what he needed to, “It’s J, 007.”
“When did J …”
“J was recalled to active duty a year ago, specifically for this assignment.”
James could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping faster, he could feel beads of sweat being to form and climbing its way down his spine.
The sun was breaking in through the window as James watched you sleep, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, as you scrunched your nose, trying to remove whatever irritated you, mumbling in your sleep. He’d been up for almost an hour, after he had the same nightmare yet again. He knew he should’ve woken you up, whenever he had the dream of your death, it was only you that could ease the pain in his heart; however this time just watching you sleep, peacefully, calmed his heart. It was a sense of peace and tranquility that filled him just lying there beside you. He did his best to memorize every millimetre of your face, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single freckle or blemish on your face. In that moment, as he lay beside you, he knew. Truthfully, he had known since the moment you walked into his life, but in that moment he knew he wasn’t going to run away from what he felt, he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the issue anymore. You were the one. You were the missing piece of his life. In that moment, he wanted to wake you up, and ask you to marry him.
He felt Mallory’s eyes on him pulling him back to the present, as M looked between Q and himself. He was trying to quell the coldness enveloping him completely, James’ fists clenched by his side as a thousand different scenarios ran through his head. This wasn’t the first time you were in a crunch, but at least then he was by your side.
You pressed into your side, praying and hoping to stop the bleeding as James provided cover. Things were looking bleak for the both of you, you were down to maybe five rounds, your extra magazine used and spent. Bond had taken one of your pursuers guns but even then, he was running low.
“Okay, I bought us a few minutes” he rushed out, controlling his breathing as best he could. His eyes glanced over doing his best to assess your situation. “What do you say? Ready to make a run for it?”
You could only chuckle and offer a weak smile as he grabbed your arm, but you knew the chances of both of you making it out were slim, especially with your wound that didn’t want to close. The bullet was still in there, and pressing against your ribs. You grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left, pulling him towards you, kissing him deeply one last time.
James was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate as he deepened the kiss, you didn’t have to tell him, he already knew what you were thinking. This was your goodbye kiss, you were going to tell him to run and to leave you there to cover his escape; but there was no way he was going to do that, his hand shifted from the side of your face, he slowly flexed his wrist, popping out the the tiny dart Q had mounted into his watch before the mission, and pressed it against your neck.
As you felt the prick in your neck, you pulled back and pressed your hand against your neck, “Wha… wha… whhh…”
James watched as your eyes slowly closed and your head fell against his shoulder, “Sorry love” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t lose you.” He picked you up, and carried you to the extraction point, doing his best to stay ahead of the assailants.
Now wasn’t the time to panic, he needed as much information as he could gather, “Is it possible to contact J? Confirm in some way that J’s still alive?”
“J’s locator is no longer active. Even the communicator I gave is turned off. All the designated escape rendezvous arranged previously haven’t been used. There is one possibility, give me a minute, I’ll check …” Q’s words trailed off into nothingness as he focused his attention back on his computer.
Mallory stood from his position, it was not the time to be wallowing in self-deprecation. 007 looked as though someone punched him in the gut, or ripped out his heart. Not to mention, there was the possibility of an agent out there on their own for the past two weeks, that could very well need his help.
“You know this … J … personally?” Mallory asked keeping his voice low, as he subtly moved 007 away from Q allowing the genius to do his job.
“More or less” Bond responded, although he heard his voice answer Mallory, it didn’t feel like it was him that was actually talking.
“Meaning?”
“She’s my fiancé …” Mallory looked shocked for a second, before he was able to control his features once again; Bond didn’t draw attention to it, nor did he appear to really be paying attention to what he was saying at that moment.
James looked around the room, making sure everything was perfect. The candles were lit, your favourite meal was on the dining room table, along with your favourite flowers. He was wearing the navy blue suit you loved, it was the one he wore when you first met, you always told him that image always lived in your memory. He felt for the ring box in his breast pocket. The nerves building as the thought of what he was about to do started to sink in. He always swore he’d never get involved with anyone again after Vespa, but you slowly broke down his walls, and pushed your way into his heart, and before he knew it here he was getting ready to propose to you. Now all he had to do was wait till you got home.
Something pulled James back from where his mind went, maybe it was the fact Q had stopped typing, or just having faith that J’d be okay, and there was no need to be lost in what-ifs. He cleared his throat, straightening and adjusting his tie, “Former. My former fiancé from years past.”
You stood on the street, as the rain pelted down soaking your and James’ clothes straight through. Your tears were welling up as your throat ached from the fight the both of you just had, James was doing his best to hold it together, seeing how much in pain you were from something he did.
“I’m sorry! But you know this job … this life …”
Your fingers clenched around your engagement ring, “You promised me we would leave. We would both walk away from this job, from everything!”
James ran his hands over his face, “You know how difficult it can be …”
“Oh shut up! You claim to love me, you claim to I’m the one you want to be with, but if that was true you wouldn’t hesitate. Just admit James, you simply don’t want to be with me!”
“How can you say that? I’m here fighting to be with you!”
“Then leave! Leave with me!”
“You know I can’t. Not right now.”
“If you don’t leave now, you’ll lose me”
James closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t. Don’t do this.”
You didn’t want to walk away, not from him; but if he wasn’t ready to make the commitment you weren’t sure you could wait around until he was ready. You had already waited five years just to be with him, and now just when you thought everything was finally coming together, it was all falling apart.
Your hand slowly stroke his cheek, you brushed your lips against his pulling him closer. He didn’t wait or hesitate, he reciprocated making sure the kiss was as passionate and intimate, James didn’t want to think this was the final kiss he could ever give you.
You pulled away, taking his hands in yours, you pulled off the ring and placed it in his hand. “I can’t do this when you’re not ready. I’m sorry.”
That was all you said as you left him standing there, James just watched you walk away, not sure of how to fix this.
Mallory didn’t say much, simply nodding his head. He knew the affairs of the heart all to well, he wasn’t going to pry into Bond’s past no matter how sorely he was tempted, “Are you able to handle this?”
James turned his head and locked eyes with Mallory, “Are you?”
“Very well, 007.”
Both regained their focus and steadied their nerves, Q looked up as he felt their gazes on him, he adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the information, “I triple checked all morgues, hospitals, law enforcement announcements, even underworld bounties, and I can neither confirm nor deny J’s alive … or dead.”
“Pardon me?” Mallory stated as his hand hitched on his waist, his anger needing an outlet. Not only had they been breached, but it appears it was a targeted breach against one particular agent that didn’t seem to have raised any red flags in their assignment.
Q adjusted his glasses, not bothering to look at the very annoyed and confused expressions that no doubt rested on both of their faces, “If J were dead there would be a report of either an unidentified body, J’s undercover name or J’s real name, and if that wasn’t going to happen, then there would be a police report about a body found or a … piece found. However there’s nothing. There’s still a pretty large bounty on J, 750,000 euros. Which tells me two things, one - J escaped before the identity was revealed. Now how J knew the cover was blown, I couldn’t possibly guess. However, that brings me to number two, as of right now J’s escaped the clutches of whoever put the bounty. Otherwise, it would’ve been removed, not to mention there would be some form of notice on the dark web.”
“Okay that means J’s likely alive, but you said you weren’t sure about J’s death?”
“Well they could have found J and kept the bounty up to keep us thinking J’s alive when that isn’t the case. They could also be torturing J for information …”
Bond held up his hand, “Okay we get.”
“If J’s captured, then there’s nothing we can do.”
The air in the room went frigid, as Bond slowly turned his head to look at Mallory, “There’s always something we can do” his voice was terse as he addressed Mallory.
“I’m sorry 007, but you know the rules better than anyone. Captured and you’re on your own; MI6 will disavow all knowledge regarding your existence and activity. If J’s caught, there’s simply nothing I can do.”
The tension between the two seasoned men started to grow, one due to the power and position he held, limiting his ability to help an agent in need, the second due to his own feelings and sense of duty to the one who had held his heart far longer than anyone else since Vespa.
Q held up his hand, “Before you two get into a testosterone filled match to decide which of you is bigger, I found something”
“Surprised you didn’t just wait till after” Bond smirked, appreciating the fact he could always tease Q no matter what the situation called for.
“I was tempted, but this is more pressing. I found a … as best I can describe it, some sort of distress code, on a back channel that hasn’t been used for a while.”
“What does it say?” Mallory was beginning to have doubts about this agent; first, why was only J’s identity that was revealed? Secondly, how did J survive?
“Need extraction. No response in two weeks. Will go dark. Heima. J out.”
“When was this posted?” James hand clenched by his side, something wasn’t right. Heima referred to their home they were planning on building in Milford Sound, the remotest area of New Zealand.
“Sixteen days ago”
“J already went dark.”
“Question” Mallory couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “If she was able to escape why didn’t she come back in? Why wait to get an extraction? Why wait to hear back? And why was J’s identity the only one that was leaked?”
Bond turned to look at Mallory, “Are you questioning J’s loyalty?”
“It does raise some concerns” Q offered reluctantly.
“I know J!”
“It bears some consideration, 007” Bond didn’t need to hear this anymore, he grabbed the equipment Q had laid out for his next mission; ignoring Q’s comment.
“Where do you think you’re going, 007?” Mallory was about to stop him but thought better of it.
“Heima” was all James said as he walked out.
Mallory looked at Q waiting for an answer, he simply shrugged, adjusting his glasses, “Did you expect anything less? I mean …” Q motioned with his hand to the door Bond exited, “Really?”
Mallory smirked, running his hand down his face, “Let me know when he finds J.”
AO3 Link | DC Characters Master List | Main Master List
Warnings: Smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), drinking in the tub.
Word Count: 4528.
Rating: 18+.
Masterlist.
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So, I wanna thank @youvebeenlivingfictional because if I had not come accross her absolutely fantastic Old Dog series, I would have never considered writing this one. But, honestly? All her fics are amazing.
Your body aches, you need a shower and a bed. Nothing is broken and there is no blood, but you're not fine. The mission had gone tits up. Well, not exactly, but if it wasn't for Bond you'd probably be dead, too. Like her. He had come and taken care of that which you couldn't, even if you wanted too. You were grateful for that, for him being there. As an MI6 agent knowing who to trust, and deciding to trust someone, was always a risky business, but Bond? If you could describe him in two words, they would be reliable and reckless. Somewhat contradictory, maybe, but never inaccurate.
He doesn't talk as he drives, something you're grateful for, too. You don't think you'd be able to talk without bursting into tears, at least not at this very moment. You need to be alone and process, you don't think you'll get that luxury, as much as you'd like it.
"I don't think there's need for one of us to keep guard, we've lost them and they wouldn't know where to start, anyway" Bond explains matter-of-factly, he sounds like he looks, exhausted.
You nod and gather yourself before you speak "I don't think either of us would be able to stay awake after all that happened"
He wants to ask, you can see it in his eyes, but doesn't.
The safe house is a small, unassuming flat in a small, unassuming residential building in the outskirts of the city. It should be enough to lie low for a few days, while extraction is confirmed, and the mess gets cleaned up. You change cars on the way, get some take out food and finally arrive there long after midnight. Bond double-checks the locks while you look around the rooms and make sure no one is waiting for you.
Bond is sitting on the arm of the sofa, looking at you. He's clear blue eyes analyse you, is almost too much, and you don't know what he is looking for or at. You know he likes what you're wearing, he said as much, joked about ridiculously short hems. Had leaned in and played with the hem of your dress as he carefully looked over your shoulder, as he counted all guards.
“This place has one bedroom” You announce tiredly and leaning against the frame of said bedroom’s door.
Bond looks at you and huffs a laugh “Of course, it does. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you do the same”
You laugh and shake your head “We’re adults, and we’re exhausted. I’ll step into the shower first, if you don’t mind”
Bond gestures with his hand in the general direction of the bedroom “Go on”
The water is almost scalding as you stand under the stream, you groan at the soreness in your muscles, wonder at the bruises that you will see the next morning. Try to not think about tonight. Your job is done, and so is Bond’s. You force yourself out of the shower, mindful of leaving Bond some hot water.
You ruffle through the duffle bag on the bed with the few things you managed to get out of your original apartment as Bond heads into the bathroom. You change into a pair of wide legged pants and a long sleeved, cropped top. Your phone vibrates in your hand.
“Are you safe?” Q’s voice comes from the other end of the secure line.
“Yes. Things got slightly out of hand” You say, wincing as you sit down “But we’re in the safe house”
“Good. There should be a laptop in the safety. Use it to get all the documents you found” Q instructs “Mallory isn’t quite happy with the mess you and Bond left behind”
“I am not quite happy about it” You counter and turn around when you hear Bond step outside the bathroom.
Your eyes wander the expanse of his exposed torso, the way the muscles move and strain under his skin as he moves his luggage from the floor onto the bed. Bond catches your wandering eyes, something you don’t have the mind space to name right now flickers in his, and then he sees the phone.
“Hello, Q” He says loud enough for Q to hear.
“Bond” Q greets back “Do you have the thumb drive?”
“I do, yes. Not only that but we managed to copy a good amount of files from Andrade’s computers” Bond explains, sounding as unbothered as ever “Is there a computer here we can use to get those securely to you?”
“I was explaining, there is a computer on the safety. Use that. The files should transfer in a few hours”
“Extraction?”
“Still a few days away. We need to clean up the mess before we get you two out”
“How bad is it?” You ask.
“It could be much worse” Q reassures you “Just a few days, and you will be back”
The conversation fizzles out and Q closes the line. Bond opens the small closet and moves a panel at the back, uncovering a safe box. He enters his personal code, puts in his fingerprint, and gets a computer out of it. As soon as the computer is ready to start the transfer of the files, he plugs the thumb drive in. Your phone lights up with a text from Q, it reads ‘Transfer started.’
“You need to eat” Bond says when he comes into the small kitchen and finds you with a glass of scotch in your hand.
You shrug “Do I?”
“Getting drunk on an empty stomach and letting perfectly good food go cold won’t make things better” Bond’s argument is sound enough. You have to give him that as he hands you a plate with a couple of slices of pizza in it.
You take it and make a show out of biting onto the first one.
“Cheeky” He says and grabs one for himself.
You sit down in one of the chairs and look at Bond again. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, no shirt, the light dusting of blond hair on his chest catches the light of the kitchen, and he finds you staring again. If he is thinking anything of it, he keeps it to himself. You like staring at Bond, and you’ve made your peace with it. Up to this point, it has never been an obstacle in this mission. Other things were, but certainly not that.
Is past two thirty a.m. when you crawl onto bed. The bottle of scotch has less than half left in it. You’re buzzed, and you curl in on yourself, pull the covers up to your eyes.
You wake up with the slivers of sunlight leaking in through the spaces between the window and the curtains. Bond is sitting on the bed, the computer on his lap, he is typing something when you peek up at him “Q?”
He nods, fingers still typing "Q is just making sure everything is still in order"
You sigh and sit up, then stand and walk out into the kitchen, look through the drawers and cabinets until you manage to find a package of coffee. Is not your usual, you're not sure if it is even good, but it'll have to do. You take it back to the bedroom and offer a mug to Bond. The computer is back on the bedside table.
"Have you thought about what you'll say when they ask why didn't you take the shot?" The question takes you by surprise.
"I..." You start but close your mouth, try to gather your thoughts "Does it matter? He's dead. She is, too. The work is done, you did it"
"They will ask" Bond insists "And if you slip up in eval, they might pull you off of field duty"
“I know” You do know. But you wanted to do the right thing, too “I thought I could help her” The thought is out before you can stop it.
“You’re not the first agent to deal with something like this, but you have to find a way to manage this and come out the other side”
You look at Bond, but he is not looking at you. He’s looking straight ahead, and you know what he is talking about. You’ve heard about it. About her. Vesper. Smart, beautiful and dead. You’ve heard the comments and the whispers. Nothing is harder than trying to live up to the memory of a woman long dead, is a futile exercise, one you’ve no interest endeavouring in.
“I saw…” You clear your throat “I could have been her” Is all you manage to say before you have to steady yourself and take a deep breath.
“But you aren’t. You’re here” Bond’s words are oddly reassuring, and you turn your face towards him, he’s looking at you now. The look he gives you says a lot, even if his words say so little. This look you exchange is between two people who have got too close and allowed this job to take a lot from them.
Watching Bond take on a task as mundane and domestic as breakfast feels odd. Not because you don’t think he is a functional adult that does his own cooking, it’d be strange if he was capable of keeping himself alive on this job, but not take care of basic human needs. It feels odd because it humanizes him, it shows an unexpected and caring side to a man capable of a lot of violence. But he does go through it. Not that there is much to work on, just left over cold pizza from last night that he heats up and hands you on a plate.
You fill the tub and get in. Bond is out, getting acquainted with the surrounding area, you appreciate the alone time. You can think and drink, the half bottle of scotch sits on the floor, beside the tub.
You reach for the bottle and take a swig of it. It burns as it goes down your throat, and you grimace, hissing. That first day, you had parked the car outside the airport, got out and waited for Bond leaning against the passenger’s side door. His blue eyes had landed on you the moment he had stepped out, he was studying you the whole drive, asking questions that he knew the answers to. Measuring those answers and determining, little by little, if you could be trusted.
Later that night, Bond had come into your room, crouched in front of you and buckled your heels for you “Just making sure they’re buckled right. Wouldn’t want any accidents” He had looked up at you, and you had felt the heat of his gaze travel over you, all the way from your feet, to your face.
You had given Bond a silent, little smirk. A muted “Thank you”
The memory brings a smile to your face, you huff a soft laugh and take a deep breath. You lean over the lip of the tub and grab the bottle once again, take another swig and let the alcohol go down your throat.
You wish your mind would stay on those moments with Bond, but it does not. It refuses to.
You can see it so vividly. You ran towards her. Ana was laying on the floor, she wasn’t moving as you kneeled beside her, there was a pool of blood under her head, one of her eyes was black and her lip was split. The door had slammed closed behind you, and you turned your head to find Andrade looking down at you.
“I knew it had to be you” He stalked towards you and there was no time for you to grab your gun. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the floor. You knew, back then, you had to get away or he would have killed you. Andrade kicked your side and the air left your lungs. Your leg flew up, and you missed his crotch by inches, but it was enough to make him stumble back. It had been enough for you to be able to grab the gun. Your side was on fire as you pointed at him. Breathing was hard and your eyes were swimming with unshed tears.
You had signalled him to move “Stop” You said once he wasn’t between the door and you “She’s dead” You had said, more to yourself than to him. Your finger hovered over the trigger “Give me a reason, and I’ll do it” But for some reason you couldn’t do it. Then Bond had come in.
He had noticed how stiff you were, how you couldn’t pull that trigger, your watery eyes and the way your shallow breathing rattled your chest.
Bond walked to your side and put his hand around your trembling one “I can take care of this” His voice had been soft. His hand had settled you, allowed you to turn your eyes slowly to him as he took the gun from you.
Bond nodded as he took the gun from you, you had looked at Ana’s lifeless body then walked out of the room. Bond pulled the trigger.
You break the water surface and take a deep breath.
“I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come up” Bond is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.
“Sorry” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing about.
But Bond moves, with that fluidity that only he can achieve, and walks into the bathroom and crouches beside the tub. Takes the bottle and helps himself to a swig of it, then puts it out of your reach.
You raise an eyebrow at him and he puts his arms on the edge of the tub, one over the other, then rests his chin over his folded arms “Can’t let you develop bad coping mechanisms”
He says it with an amused lilt to his voice, but you can tell he is being serious, too. Albeit careful with the way he says things “No more drinking”
“Do as I say, not as I do” You counter and Bond just smiles that knowing smile of his and points at you with a finger.
You’re keenly aware that Bond can see your naked form in the clear tub water “You just wanted to have a peek”
“I have been known to be curious” He counters.
“Creep” You tease him.
“There’s only so much I can do with you like this” Bond deeps a finger in the warm water and looks at you, waiting for you give a sign that this isn’t something you want. But it never comes. You want this, the distraction, his presence, that playful gleam in his eyes. You want Bond to do whatever it is he is thinking about doing.
His hand is in the water and you look at it, then into those blue eyes of his “You’ll get wet, Bond”
“I’m trying to” Bond drags a finger over your knee. Eyes fixed on your face as he moves that finger, his hand up your thigh. You part your legs just enough for Bond to reach the apex between your thighs, to flick one finger over that bundle of nerves and watch as you gasp.
Your hand wraps around his bicep, and you keep your eyes on him. A challenge.
“Do your worst, then” You breathe and dig your nails into his skin, just enough for him to feel the bite, the sting of it.
Bond hisses and the corners of his mouth lift up just slightly. His finger drags between your lips, from your entrance to your clit, your hips buck. He tilts his head as he watches your reaction. His other hand moves slowly over the water and cups one of your breasts, his thumb circles your nipple until it hardens and you groan, close your eyes and let your head fall back onto the edge of the tub.
When Bond pushes a finger inside you, all the way to the knuckle, he lets go of your breast and takes your chin in that same hand, makes you look at him “Are you sober enough for this?”
He’s not asking if you want it, the fact is you have not made an effort to hide it. He wants you sober enough for it. This.
You nod, but realize he probably wants to hear you say it. So you give him what he wants “Yes”
“Good” There’s promise on the way he says the word.
Bond drags his thumb over your lip and you scrape your teeth over it, there’s a fire in his blue gaze that lures you in as he circles your clit once again. He rewards you with one of those knowing smiles when you gasp.
He cups your chin again and beckons you forward, closer to him, to his lips. Again, that smile was there and his fingers.
Bond is so good with his hands, his fingers.
You close the space between your mouth and his, Bond’s other hand clasps the back of your neck as he thrusts a finger inside you, your mouth opens in a breathless gasp, and he deepens the kiss. Bond leans in until your back is resting against the back of the tub again and drags his finger almost completely out of your cunt, only to add a second and thrust them in at an agonizingly slow pace.
“More” You demand and Bond gives you an amused look.
“Ask politely” But he circles your clit and your hips jolt on their own.
You frown at Bond and he licks his lips “More, please” You breathe as Bond actually pulls his fingers out and you watch, mesmerized, as he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
He wraps his hand around your neck and pulls you closer, until your lips crash against his. Bond’s other hand is back between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit as you pant against his lips.
Release is right at your fingertips, so close you can taste it. When you cum, your back arches and the water sloshes around you, your nails dig on Bond’s arm and he looks at you intently. Blue eyes boring into you, intense and unflinching. Bond kisses you again and he pulls back the corners of his mouth tug upwards “Ready to get out of the bath?”
Bond takes your hand and stands, he follows the movement with those eyes of his as the water cascades down your body. There’s hunger in his eyes, his gaze feels like a brand on your skin as you step out of the tub gingerly and Bond wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss.
You’re still drenched, but his arms wrap tightly around your waist, one of his hands moving down your back to your rear as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your hand in his short hair. You arch into him, as Bond spanks your ass hard and you gasp, the water on your skin making the sting more intense. He grabs a handful of your ass, and you shiver against him, lifting your leg and grinding against him. The denim of his jeans is rough against your skin, reminds you that he’s still mostly clothed but you’re completely nude and at his mercy.
“I like you like this” His voice is barely above a whisper “Naked and wet”
“That sounds bad” You tease and bite his earlobe. Bond slaps your ass once again and then moves his other hand down to your thigh, patting it until you wrap it around his narrow waist.
“I’m sure you’ve been waiting to know just how bad it can get” Bond says as he starts walking out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom.
Bond’s mouth is on yours as soon as your ass touches the mattress, his groan reverberates all over your body, and you try to pull him on top of you, but he grips your hips “On your hands and knees”
A part of you wants to protest, the other part is intrigued by the idea of following Bond’s instructions in this specific scenario. So you turn around, get on your hands and knees.
You wait to hear the shuffling of fabric, the zip of his pants being pulled down. You get something completely different.
There’s no warning for it, you just feel Bond’s mouth on you and gasp loudly. He grips your thighs tightly, keeps you in place when you try to pull away from the drag on his tongue against your pussy. Within seconds you’re almost melting under Bond’s ministrations, moaning his name as he sucks your clit between his lips. Is this why the interns fall all over themselves for him?
That thought makes you let out an unexpected giggle that earns you one more slap on your backside, the skin burns pleasantly and you groan, closing your eyes. Bond is good. He’s so damn good with his mouth.
“Bond” His name is a breathless plea coming from your lips and he keeps a tight grip on your hips, preventing you from rocking them against his face. But you push on your hands, leaning in closer. He licks from your clit to your entrance and you shiver. Bond’s low, guttural laugh vibrates from your core into your whole body. Another swift spank lands on your ass, and you arch your back.
Its enough to make you cum against his mouth, soaking his face and chin as your legs tremble and you breathe hard “Oh, God” You whisper as the aftershocks of your release course through your body and Bond licks you through it. You jump as his teeth close over your ass cheek, hissing at the burn and the knowledge that his bite will leave a mark, as he pulls back and you see him stand up as you look over your shoulder.
Bond licks his lips. You hear the jingling of his belt buckle while keeping your eyes on his and before long you feel the teasing smoothness of his tip against your pussy. You arch your back and shiver as he thrusts slowly into you, his hands tight on your hips.
Bond bottoms out and grinds against your ass. His grip on your hips tightens until you’re sure his fingers will leave bruises, but it feels good. The pain laced pleasure grounds you into the moment and allows you to walk back from the edge, calm yourself enough to enjoy the stretch of his cock inside you.
“That’s good” Bond says, tugging you back against him when you try to scurry away and rock your hips “Stay still” He breathes, voice strained.
When he moves is a low, sensuous drag of his cock against your walls, and a humming sensation extends through you. Warm and fuzzy, and you shiver and clench around Bond’s length. Hear his groan in response and a lazy smile spreads over your lips, your eyes are halfway closed and you yelp when he slaps your buttock again.
“You like that” He whispers in your ear as he bends over you and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, the angle makes you feel him even deeper inside. Your breath catches in your throat and the only sound out of your lips when he pinches your nipple is a strangled gasp.
“Y-yes” You stutter, even though he wasn’t really asking, not when he can feel the way your body reacts to what he is doing to you. Not when he can feel just how so much wetter you get with every thrust of his hips.
Bond pulls back, and he buries a hand in your hair, forcing your back to arch and your fingers barely touch the mattress, as his thrusts turn deeper and harder, more brutal and less controlled. Is the kind of pleasure laced with just the right amount of pain to get you out of your head.
Soon enough, Bond is tugging on your hair until you’re on your knees and your back is against his chest. He lets go of your hair and his arm comes around your waist holding you upright. His free hand wraps around your neck in a firm hold. Bond’s breath is warm against your cheek and you turn your face just enough to kiss him as your hips move back into his, meeting him thrust for thrust.
That arm around your middle sneaks down your front and cups your centre, his fingers glide easily between your outer lips and Bond bites your earlobe “I knew you were a good girl”
His words make you shiver, your walls clench around his length and Bond lets out a breathless chuckle against your ear.
He starts to circle your clit right at that moment, his fingers slick and shiny as you look down and watch his hand move against you. It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams, it makes a new wave of wetness rush out of you and that heat in the pit of your stomach turns into a raging fire. Your hand wraps itself around Bond’s wrist, nails digging into his skin as you both move your hips faster and harder.
The sounds of your bodies colliding against each other fill the room, your mouth hangs slightly open and it's almost too much as you feel yourself tighten around his cock and cum hard. There are white dots dancing in your vision as you groan and gasp for air, arching against his chest and cursing loudly.
Bond doesn’t stop circling your clit or pumping hips as you do, instead he keeps going until your whole world feels like it has narrowed to the feel of his fingers on your bundle of nerves and his cock dragging in and out of you.
Is overwhelming and you almost want to tell him to stop, but you can’t. It feels too good, and you’re cuming again, harder than before, your whole body is trembling and if Bond wasn’t holding you up, you’d crumble into the mattress.
Bond’s own thrust start to lose their pace, they become staggered and the sound he makes causes you shiver again, clench around him once more
“I could get a few more out you”
His voice sounds almost cruel as he says it, but he pulls out of you and almost immediately you can feel the warmth of his semen against your inner thighs and see some of it land on the sheets. His breathing is ragged and he bites your shoulder “I probably will, later”
He helps you lay down on the bed and climbs onto it beside you, his arm snaking around your waist again. His thumb circling your hip distractedly, his lips on your shoulder “Did that work?”
You laugh softly, still breathless and nod “That’s one impressive trick”
Bond smiles and tilts his head, intense blue eyes fixed on you “I can repeat it as many times as you need”
“I’ll keep it in mind when drinking in the tub starts looking appealing then”
and you walked past him, whispering a "Bad day?" chuckling to himself.
When he mentioned it to Q, he mentioned that you were notorious for teasing other agents for their mishaps
but when he learned that you had spent the last year and a half undercover in Mexico City, he wanted to get to know you better
he knows all to well how easy it is to lose yourself when you are undercover
so he tracks you down to your home (with thanks to Q) and takes you out for the day.
He decides to take you to this cafe down a back alley, he had been once before when looking for something to eat.
As the gentleman he is, he pays for your food before taking you out to Hyde Park for some air.
He took you on a proper date a few days later and from the on, the rest is history.
Due to the nature of both of your jobs, sometimes it is hard for you to be be in the same country, let alone continent at the same time so you both try to call each other as often as possible
When you are at home, just the two of you behind closed doors, James just likes to cuddle with you
wether it be an arm around you shoulders on the sofa or you laying chest to chest in bed,
he likes it because that is one of the few times is isn't 007, and your not Agent (L/N); he's just James and your just (Y/N).
Your shared home is minimalistic but cozy. You both agreed when moving in together that you didn't need fancy things to get by.
You home became your escape from the world.
Once one of you returned home from a long assignment, you both went out to the cafe James initially brought you for breakfast.
It was one of thing things you looked forward to when you were assigned something long and hard
and although he would never admit it, you both knew that James enjoyed this time more than anything
every so often, James would randomly turn the radio onto the classics station and pull you up to dance.
he had taught you many dances throughout your relationship and you weren't even sure if what you did was dancing. Especially since James would just sway you back and forth in his arms, mindlessly humming along to the music.
James knew he wanted to do a simple proposal so on a random Wednesday, he took you out for a walk in Hyde Park, claiming he needed some air.
He pointed out some random facts about the trees as a way to calm his nerves
he always talked more when he was nervous
on the way back home, he took you to the cafe in the alley
and as you finished your full English, he pulled the ring out from his trouser pocket and whispered the words "Marry me?"
