James and Tiago once had a life together. After Tiago vanished, James didn't want to accept the inevitable. He got on with his life and years later met a man named Raoul.
(He isn't sure what to think, but James Bond is nothing if not loyal.)
Because that whole vibe of James Bond “correcting” the lesbian Pussy Galore via sexual assault in Goldfinger really got to me and made me sigh and then-
Then I remembered I had written this wherein Tiago CORRECTS James in his sweet, passively commanding way (the pair are in some sort of casual relationship) in a club and I felt a bit more hopeful for the baby blue-eyed boy.
James really needs a guy/girl that understands him and can pull the better side out. He really is just an opportunistic thug otherwise. Which I’m sure depresses him deep down because he’s not really a depraved sadist, he’s too stubbornly noble and adherent to the concept of the English “hero” for that.
In which Tiago/Silva mun attempts to write from James Bond’s pov. I apologise in advance to all the fabulous Bond RPers out there.
~~
“Well fancy seeing you here…”
The Spaniard raises his glass. He’s slightly tipsy, but that’s mainly because the woman chatting to him on his right hand side has a very wicked sense of humour. Tiago places a couple on coins on the counter, buying the other agent a drink.
James Bond pulls up a chair. The Englishman is content, smiling politely in his mischievous way as he glances around at all the females surrounding him. His double-oh partner seems to have invited him into a nightclub full of the fairer sex. Who wouldn’t want to be a man in the middle of such surroundings? Picking up his cocktail (Tiago seems to insist on something new and fruity each time) he takes a sip, eyebrows rising a little bit at the feather boa trailing down the leg of the bar-tender who turns back to serve the next customer after preparing him his beverage.
No, Tiago Rodriguez is clearly onto a good thing.
Bond watches as 007 continues to chat with the women behind the bar, some tall, busty dark-haired lady with a full figure. She looks like she could be the matriarch of the place. Certainly, the woman seems to have her eye on the younger girls milling around. James smirks, tilting his drink back and finishing off the sweet liquor in one. Ah, Tiago always had a thing for the older dames. Bond has no quarrel with this. Especially since it freed him up to pursue the younger, leaner pieces of meat on offer…
The music is eclectic, but there is little to fault with the lighting theme. Nothing too flashy, little in the way of strobe effects or over-bright disco lights. This means that James can actually see every dancer more clearly in the room. A very nice blonde tilts her hips, wrapping her long legs around the metal pole as she spins around on a podium in the centre floor. She bends her neck bearing a beautifully pale throat, skin just begging to be kissed and lightly nipped. Not too far from this exotic dancer there’s a fantastically smouldering brunette that appears to be rolling her hips around, drawing much attention with her smoky eyes and large hooped jewellery around her arms and wrists.
She catches hold of another female, drawing her close and gyrating in time with the music with her. James hums, putting his glass down.
Perhaps a threesome, or maybe even a foursome, will be on the cards tonight.
He looks over briefly at his senior partner. Tiago seems to be too busy wrapped up in conversation with the older bird to pay him any attention. It’s not even worth a huff. Rodriguez was a good lay, no doubt about it, but he lacked a pussy. Sometimes, what James craved more than muscle was the softness of a woman in his arms. Or multiple women with their legs slightly parted, giggling as they waited their turn with him. Those were the best nights. Breathing in deeply, MI6′s latest reconnaissance officer rises to his feet, making his way purposefully down the steps into the dancing pit.
Girls glance at him with curiosity, a few with suspicion, as he looks over them casually. His features are schooled into a proper respectful observation, so as to not look overeager. No, there is no space left to charm the little treasures if he looks too much like the desperately horny man he is. Smiling like a suave wolf, he reaches out a hand, taking the arm of a slender girl in a short skirt and sparkly tank top. Spinning her around, he pulls her close to his body, letting her hands fall onto his chest, her blue eyes looking up in wonder into his own.
“Well now, you are a beautiful-”
-Smack!
James pauses. The sting burns his skin. Lifting a hand to rub his red cheek, he frowns as the woman draws back from him, rubbing her arms slightly in disgust where Bond has touched her. Most peculiar. She had seemed rather interested in a dance before… James frowns. Confused. He looks around at the other females now pausing in their swaying to watch him. It’s an odd feeling for Bond, to feel like a leper in a situation where he would normally feel extremely powerful.
Not to be perturbed, the young Casanova sets his jaw. Striking out and starting again, he strolls forward, light on his heels as he saunters closer to another pretty blonde extending fingers to stroke a cheek as he lightly wraps an arm around her waist.
“Hey asshole, keep your hands to yourself.”
A broad, muscular woman steps forward, effectively putting sheer bulk between James and the pretty damsel. Bond narrows his eyes as he looks up at the taller female, hands automatically reaching for his ruffled tie and straightening it. It’s a coping mechanism; a way for the smartly-dressed gentleman to reassert his masculinity in the face of horrifically overwhelming odds. This is decidedly not what he signed up for this evening…
Emotions are running high and likely to spiral out of control, but a new voice is shortly heard, breaking above the patter of music in the club. Tiago strolls effortlessly across the floor, the fluffy feather boa now wrapped around his broad shoulders as he cuts a dashing figure through the hordes of lesbians melting before him.
Several girls sigh, and quite a few women smirk in appreciation as the Spaniard passes by. Now they all felt a bit more at ease. 007 reaches his partner’s side not two seconds later, laying a hand on James’ shoulder. The elder male ignores Bond for a minute, instead making his apologies to the lesbian butch, nodding respectfully and smiling down playfully at the pretty girlfriend on her arm. He keeps his own hand on James’ shoulder, squeezing him gently throughout.
James is still and quiet for the longest time. A song is playing on the loudspeakers. The lyrics are all about a beautiful stranger… the Englishman grunts, rolling his shoulder free of Tiago’s hand. He straightens his jacket, bitterness rising within him like a perfect storm. Rodriguez stops speaking with the lesbians finally, turning his head to gaze across at his partner. The ex-Navy boy has lived in a male-dominated world for so long…
Really. He honestly can’t help being who he is.
“James…”
The Spaniard shakes his head. A cheeky smile drifts onto his face.
“…You are a very naughty boy, aren’t you?”
Tiago’s voice is deep and warm and forgiving.
Of course, he knew. He knew all along…
His kiss is swift and thorough, knocking out the air from James’ lungs. Bond finds himself gripping Tiago’s neck, pulling at Tiago’s hair as an accepting outlet for all his pent-up testosterone-driven frustrations. The Spaniard’s arms are steady as they hold onto him. Calmly, Rodriguez bends to him, taking away the sting of rejection he feels from all the other women in the club.
It’s several minutes before both men pull back from each other, dark eyes assessing fierce blue ones. Tiago laughs after a while. The perennial cheekiness it seems is never far away from Mommy’s boy.
“Darling, if you wanted me to wear a dress you only had to ask.” A sinful look pools into those obsidian orbs as he holds James’ attentions. “Role play is not beyond me.”
The girls at the Spaniard’s back start to smile and nudge each other. James shuts his mouth, not trusting himself to speak. He wants to glare at the females giggling at him, but Tiago is not letting him dwell long enough on such emotions.
Fingers catch hold of his chin, running down to hook behind the back of his neck. There’s a softness in Tiago’s expression that only just manages to conceal the hunger underneath. A matching desire to take charge of this situation burns in the Spaniard’s blood.
“Really, James. The things I have to do to you to make you relax…”
