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.
Hello, love your work so much it's gotten me through some tough moments recently, thank you for writing. Can I request a one shot or drabble where reader cries after coming home from work and James comforts her? (007: First Light just in case that wasn't clear :)
A/n: FIRST THAT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME! That is like the sweetest thing, second, I am so os sorry I missed this 😩
The front door clicked shut with a soft, familiar sound that usually brought a smile to your face.
Today, it didn’t.
Your work bag slipped from your shoulder and landed on the hardwood floor with a dull thud. You didn’t even bother taking your shoes off. The weight in your chest felt too heavy to care about muddy footprints or scattered belongings.
James looked up from where he sat in the living room, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a book resting open in one hand. He had been halfway through reading when he heard you come in.
Something was wrong.
He knew it before he even saw your face.
You were trying so hard to hold yourself together that it hurt to watch.
“There you are,” he said gently, setting the book aside. “Long day?”
You opened your mouth to answer and nothing came out as your lips trembled.
James was on his feet immediately.
He crossed the room in only a few strides, stopping just in front of you. His blue eyes searched yours, alert in the same way they became during missions, except this wasn’t professional instinct.
This was love.
“What happened?”
You laughed once and it came out as something painfully close to a sob. “I…” You swallowed. “I don’t know.” Your hands pressed themselves to your eyes and that was all it took.
The tears came without warning.
One escaped, then another, and suddenly you couldn’t stop them.
“Oh, sweetheart…” James didn’t hesitate. He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you firmly against his chest.
You buried your face into his sweater and broke as you clutched his sweater. "I’m sorry," you mumbled between shaky breaths. “I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
Your fingers clutched at the fabric over his back as though letting go would make you fall apart completely.
“It was just…” You sniffled loudly. “Everything today.”
James rested his chin lightly against the top of your head as he rocked you. “Tell me.”
You shook your head.
“My brain wouldn’t…” You let out another frustrated cry. “It wouldn’t work today.”
His hand slowly rubbed comforting circles across your back. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”
“I kept forgetting things.” Your words tumbled out now that the dam had broken. “Someone would tell me something and I’d walk away and immediately forget. Then I’d remember something else halfway through another task and leave that one unfinished.”
James remained silent.
Listening.
Always listening to you.
“And everyone kept interrupting me.” Your voice cracked again. “And every interruption made me forget what I was already doing.”
You let out an exhausted laugh through tears. “I had like…six different thoughts happening at once.”
James smiled softly. “I’ve seen that look.”
“I hate it.”
“I know.”
“I was trying so hard.” More tears slipped free. “I really was.”
“I know you were.”
“No…” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I don’t think anyone there knows I was trying.”
James reached up, brushing a tear from beneath your eye with his thumb.
“I do.”
That simple sentence nearly started you crying all over again.
“I just…” You sniffled. “I felt stupid.”
His expression hardened, not toward you, but toward the idea itself. “You are one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t feel clever.”
“Because today was difficult.”
You nodded miserably. “I lost my favorite pen.”
“You’ll find it.”
“I already know where it is.”
“You do?”
“I left it in the staff refrigerator.”
James blinked. “…Why?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
The sheer despair in your voice was so genuine that for a heartbeat he tried very hard not to smile.
Then you looked at him.
“I also found my coffee in the supply closet.”
“You certainly travel creatively.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t.”
He kissed your forehead. “No, you don’t.”
You sighed against him, exhausted. “They looked at me like I was incompetent.”
James’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
He had stared down terrorists.He had been shot, poisoned, and nearly drowned.
But watching someone make you feel inadequate made him far angrier than any of those things.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve watched you restart a man’s heart.”
You looked up, lips trembling.
“I’ve watched you calmly explain complicated medical procedures to frightened families.”
Another kiss found your forehead.
“I’ve watched you remember birthdays, favorite meals, tiny details people mentioned months ago.”
His hand found yours.
“You care more than anyone I know.”
“I just wish my brain worked like everyone else’s.”
James gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t.”
You frowned. “What?”
“If your mind worked like everyone else’s…” He smiled faintly. “…you wouldn’t be you.”
You stared at him.
“You notice things other people miss.” His fingers intertwined with yours. “You make connections no one else does.”
A tiny smile finally tugged at the corner of your mouth. “I ask a lot of questions.”
“You do.”
“I interrupted Q yesterday because I wanted to know why the stapler was magnetic.”
“…Was it?”
“It wasn’t.”
James chuckled. “I see.”
“I just wanted to know.”
“I know.”
Another long silence settled between you.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Your breathing slowly evened out.
James reached down and quietly untied your work shoes for you.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He slipped each shoe off with practiced care before standing again. “You’ve spent all day taking care of everyone else.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Allow someone to take care of you.”
Fresh tears threatened again. “You always know what to say.”
“No.” He smiled. “I’ve simply learned what you need to hear.”
You leaned into him once more. “I don’t want to think anymore.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t want to cook.”
“We’ll order something.”
“I don’t want to choose.”
“I’ll choose.”
“I don’t want to make any decisions.”
“You won’t.” His voice remained calm and certain.“I’ll handle everything tonight.”
You let out the deepest sigh of the entire day. “Can we just…” You hesitated. “…lay on the couch?”
James looked almost amused. “That’s all?”
“I just want you to hold me.”
He brushed another kiss into your hair. “I was rather hoping you’d ask.”
A few minutes later you were curled against him beneath the oversized blanket, your head resting on his chest while the television played some documentary neither of you were actually watching.
James stroked your hair slowly, rhythmically, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear grounding you more effectively than any words could.
After a while, you mumbled sleepily, “I’m sorry I cried all over your sweater.”
He looked down at you with unmistakable affection. “My love…” His arms tightened just enough for you to feel it.
“I’ve survived collapsing buildings, poisoned cocktails, and hostile interrogations.” He kissed the top of your head. “I think I can survive a few tears.”
For the first time all day, you laughed.
A real one.
James smiled to himself.
That sound alone made every mission he’d ever survived seem easy by comparison. Tonight, there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than right there on the couch, holding the woman he loved until she remembered that one difficult day could never define her.
! 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.
( reviewing my account will take 10 fucking days so we'll see )
The first thing James Bond noticed when he woke up was that the bed was cold.
His hand slid across the expensive white sheets, finding nothing but empty space where you should have been. For one disorienting moment, he was awake enough to know something was wrong but not awake enough to remember where he was.
Then the sound of waves reached him.
The distant crash of the ocean.
The rustle of palm trees.
Warm sunlight spilling through the open doors of the luxury villa.
Right....Vacation.
Your anniversary trip.
One year married.
James slowly opened his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He was gloriously naked beneath the sheets and more relaxed than he had been in months.
Which was exactly why finding you missing immediately put him on alert.
Years of training died hard.
His gaze swept the room.
No signs of danger....good.
No broken glass, even better.
No weapons drawn.
No kidnappers.
Just your abandoned sandals near the door.
A moment later he spotted movement outside.
James blinked.
Then blinked again.
You were standing on the balcony wearing nothing but one of his white button-down shirts.
His shirt, the hem brushed your thighs. Your bare feet were planted against the warm stone as you leaned over the railing.
And apparently.....You were talking to a bird.
James stared.
The bird stared back.
You held a piece of fruit in your hand. The bird hopped closer then hopped back.
“You can trust me,” you whispered.
James rubbed his face.
The bird seemed unconvinced.
“I am literally your friend.”
The bird tilted its head then chirped.
“You are being very judgmental for someone who eats bugs.”
The bird stole the fruit and immediately flew away.
You gasped in betrayal. "Excuse you!”
James finally laughed.The sound carried across the balcony.
You spun around.The second you saw him, your entire face lit up. "There you are!!!"
“There I am?” James repeated, standing from the bed and walking toward the open doors. “I wake up alone and somehow I’m the one being difficult?”
You grinned. “The bird needed breakfast.”
“The bird.”
“Yes.”
James stepped outside and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. The warmth of the tropical morning wrapped around both of you.
So did the scent of saltwater and flowers.
You immediately relaxed against him.His chin settled on your shoulder.
“You left your husband alone on your anniversary.”
You rolled your eyes. "For twenty minutes.”
“It felt longer.”
“It did not.”
“It did.”
“It really didn’t.”
James pressed a kiss against the side of your neck.
The simple affection made your smile soften instantly.
A year ago he would have found this version of himself ridiculous.
James Bond.
Possessive over morning cuddles.
Jealous of birds.
Perfectly content standing barefoot on a balcony doing absolutely nothing.
Yet here he was, surprisingly happy about it.
You leaned back against his chest. “Do you know what today is?”
“Our anniversary.”
You nodded then hummed. “One whole year.”
“Mm.”
“A year since you convinced me marrying you was a good idea.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Convinced?”
“You were very persuasive.”
“I proposed.”
“You proposed while bleeding.”
“It was romantic.”
“You had a gunshot wound.”
“It was still romantic.”
You laughed.
The sound made something warm settle in his chest.
James tightened his arms around you.
The ocean sparkled below. Somewhere farther down the beach, music drifted through the morning air.
Everything felt peaceful.
Quiet.
Safe.
A rare thing in his life.
“Happy anniversary, darling,” he murmured.
You turned in his arms until you were facing him.The oversized shirt hung off one shoulder.Your eyes crinkled at the corners from smiling.
“Happy anniversary, James.”
For a moment neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together while the sun rose higher over the water.
Then your stomach growled.
Loudly.
James stared.
You stared back.
The moment shattered instantly.
You pointed toward the villa. “That wasn’t me.”
“It absolutely was.”
“No proof.”
“I heard it.”
“It could’ve been a bird.”
James laughed again and shook his head. “Come on.”
“Breakfast?”
“Breakfast.”
You immediately brightened. “Can I order pancakes?”
“You can order whatever you like.”
“Three stacks?”
James sighed dramatically. “Three stacks.”
“You’re the best husband ever.”
“Funny,” he said, guiding you back inside with a hand at your waist. “I was about to say the same thing about my wife.”
You laughed and leaned into his side as the two of you disappeared into the villa together, leaving the ocean breeze and the judgmental bird behind for another day.
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 : fear of transphobia, this is purely self-indulgent because of my own struggles with gender and identity, reader is gender-neutral!
Genre : the fluffiest fluff and comfort!
Word count : 0.7K words
Synopsis : Occasionally, James needs the reassurance that his comfort comes first, and that loving him is unconditional.
Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.
Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!
Masterlist
“Do you ever miss what we once had?”
The question came from seemingly nowhere, and it startled them to look up from the vanity and glance behind them, where James stood undressing himself for bed. They frowned, noticing the slightly melancholy and troubled look on his face.
Carefully picking their words, they set their hairbrush down, smoothing the creases on their night clothes as they did, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, love. ‘Had’? We haven’t broken up when I was unaware, now, have we?”
Their tone was light and joking, but the serious expression on James’ face only grew more uneasy. His silence was more alarming than anything, seeing as they knew just how animated he’d get during conversation, and how difficult it normally was to get him to quiet down. They took this as a sign that his words ran deeper than they appeared to, and they stood up from in front of the mirror to make their way to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Would you please let me in on what’s going on inside that handsome head of yours?” they gently asked, peering up at him and waiting for him to meet their eyes.
“I mean,” he inhaled sharply, brilliant blue eyes hesitant as he stopped fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, “When we started courting, I was, well,” he paused for a second, “You had a girlfriend. And now—“
“Now I have a boyfriend, you’re trying to tell me?” they continued as it finally dawned upon them what he was trying to say, though the implications of it sent their heart plummeting to their feet, “James…”
Slipping out of his shirt as he seemed to be trying to busy himself for a few seconds, the blonde sighed, “You met me as Irene. I sometimes wonder if you don’t miss that.”
Their voice was quiet when they asked him, “Would you please look at me?” and the softness of their tone compelled their lover to glance back their way as he held his shirt in his hands, more than just his body feeling naked and stripped down in their eyes.
He swallowed thickly, “Yes?”
“Irene no longer is. You’re James to me, and you always will be. That’s all there is to it,” they inched a little closer to the edge of the bed, hands reaching out to gently pull him in by the wrist and tugging him to sit beside them, “I fell for who you are, and who you are is a man in every sense of the word as long as you tell me you are. Don’t think for a second that I would think any different.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he gave a small smile, though it was anything but happy, “You’d be—“
“A rather shitty person if I dismissed who you are for the sake of my convenience and preference,” they firmly interjected, before their gaze softened, entwining their fingers with his long ones, “I have no regrets concerning us, and none ever concerning you. All that’s changed about my love for you is just how much I do, and it increases exponentially by the day.”
“One would almost think you’re flirting with me, with the way you sound and the look in your eyes,” James chuckled lightly, squeezing their fingers fondly and leaning in closer to them.
They grinned at him, “It’s rather hard not to, when you’re this dashing and all mine,” and before he could think of a more characteristically cheeky response, they quickly kissed him, soft lips lingering on his for a few moments before pulling away to mumble against his lips, “I’m just grateful you’re more comfortable in your skin now.”
A little dazed from the surprise kiss, James blinked twice, before the most breathtaking smile made its way onto his face, though they didn’t get much of a chance to admire his beauty as his arms pulled them into his chest, his grip firm but tender nonetheless.
“I really, really am. Thank you for everything, darling.”
Summary: based off a request, reader is a doctor working at MI6, and finds Bond treating his own wound. She discovers that there’s something about a man in black latex gloves.
Triggers: smutty smut smutsville. 18+ only please. PIV, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), praise, a bit of commanding, perhaps someone could call it choking, oral sex (f receiving), voyeurism in a way, mmmm cursing? injury mention, medical themes.
You think that M is overworking her agents. Or at least that’s what it felt like when you saw the way that Bond seemed to come through the agency like a revolving door. In and out, only taking mere hours between cases. It was crazy to you. Last you’d checked he’d been sent out on a mission to Milan and wasn’t heard from for a few days. So when you clocked in and made your way to your office in the med bay, you’re surprised to see him sitting on a cot, black latex gloves on hands, shirtless and what seemed to be an attempt at stitching a wound on himself. You’re quick to swipe in, moving to the sink next to his cot to wash your hands. “You know, that’s actually my job.” You scold before grabbing a set of gloves for yourself and turning to him. He’s got a pair of scissors in hand and before you can even get your gloves on, he’s cutting the sutures' thread.
“Maybe if you were on time you’d be able to actually do your job, love?” He quips, dropping the tools into the tray he’d helped himself to. You’re putting your hands on your hips, glaring at him a little.
“Or, I don’t know, Bond, maybe you could grow some patience? Clearly you’re not dying.” A grumble comes from you, “otherwise Q would’ve told me.” Is tacked on at the end.
“Oh but where is the fun in that?” He snickers, hands landing on thick thighs. You can’t help but notice the way the gloves seem to accentuate his forearms that are exposed. How did this man get to work at your office and get away with it?
“Are you alright, there?” You must’ve been staring because one of those hands is now on your wrist. The way the latex feels against your skin is somewhat familiar but there’s a chill on your skin. There must’ve been leftover rubbing alcohol on the glove. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. You pull your hand away and pull off your own gloves.
“Fine.” You mumble and move to the trash to toss the gloves. When you turn, Bond is nearly chest to chest with you. His index finger flexes against your chin, guiding you to look up to meet his eyes.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Doctor. That’s my job.” The latex feels smooth and purposeful against your skin. Logic is screaming at you to tell him to take them off since he’s been using them to suture a wound, but the way you’re breathing, you’re worried that it won’t come off confidently.
“Okay... Bond. I…” He’s been taking careful steps as a hand drops to your hip looking at you with raised eyebrows.
“Yes? C’mon you can do this, dear.” His thumb runs up and down in it’s spot, leaving you rather distracted. But, you’re trying to put all your energy into your statement.
“You… need to grow a sense of patience. You can’t do everything-”
“Wrong. But continue.” The widest smirk is on his lips. It’s like he’s trying to get you to look at them. Taunting. Inviting. Paired with the touch on your hip, the finger that’s still under your chin guiding your gaze…
“I have a job to do in the same way that you do. If you don’t let me do it… taxpayer dollars are wasted.. On my paycheck.” You offer, not having any real intentions on winning this argument. You’d never win, well knowing how Bond was. His other thumb is gripping your chin delicately now, pulling you in like a puppet on a line.
“I have no issue with my tax money benefitting you, angel.”
“Wasted resources.” You refute.
“Your gloves… maybe. Not mine.” He reminds you, icy eyes cutting you with their intensity. “But.. I have no issue with ensuring they’re thoroughly used… worn out… at their limit.”
The muscles in your stomach tighten, involuntarily. Finally, you’re quiet. You have no logical response. Nothing to argue back to this shirtless.. Toned.. Intoxicating man in front of you…
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Out of all the words you have to pick from, these are the ones that you speak - only before frozen hands thaw rapidly as they move to pull James close enough so that your lips can meet. He’s moving the hand holding your chin to accommodate, still holding your jaw somewhat as his tongue slips into your mouth. In an instant he’s taking rather large steps to move you against the wall, the hand still on your waist putting pressure on it to pin your hips back as best as he can. Your kisses are firm, rushed and sloppy - maybe because neither of you want to get caught. “James-”
“Yes, love?” He’s pulled away when he hears you speak, hands staying still but lips moving along your jaw, waiting impatiently for your words.
“There are a lot of people with ID access here.” You warn as his destination changes from your jaw to his neck. Though when your words process, he’s quick to problem solve, pulling away enough to reach up to the blue privacy curtain on the far end of the room and tugging it shut, shadowing the room slightly. He’s then flicking off the lights in tandem motion before returning with a tilt of his head.
“There. Privacy.” He offers, resuming the kisses and markings on your neck. “You will just have to be quiet.”
As if your stomach wasn’t already reeling. You’re pulling his head up from your neck to kiss him again as his hands move from their fixtures, one hand sliding from your waist down to grip your ass in his hand, the other to cup your face pulling you closer - if that’s at all possible. The two of you stay like that for a few minutes before he’s taking both of your hands, lips still attached to yours as he slowly starts to the cot from earlier. Except he’s rapidly helping you up onto it, pushing the metal tray to the floor - a clunking sound ringing through the med bay. It causes you to pull away to scold him, looking to the floor. “James!” You whisper shout. He doesn’t respond right away, simply returning his lips to yours. Finally he does mumble a small ‘it’s fine’ helping you lay back carefully. Once you’re fully laid out for him, his lips trail to the bit of skin on your collarbones that is exposed. His hands are moving to work at the belt holding your dress pants up. He’s fumbling with the buckle rather sloppily, the noise drowning out the sound of a keycard access confirmation ringing through the bay. It’s James that freezes this time, holding a hand up, only to press a finger to his lips.
“Anyone in here?” Your eyes go wide when you realize who it is. Bond gives you a look with those damn eyes of his… only to continue his actions… quietly. Of all times for him to learn patience… You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear your name being called.
“Yeah Q?” You respond as Bond’s lifting your lower half up off the cot, guiding your trousers off.
“Oh! I thought I heard something. I wanted to make sure you were alright?” Both you and James can hear the quartermaster approaching the sectioned off room.
“Mhm! I’m all good I um-” Your breath hitches when a flat grouping of fingers begins to rub at you through your underwear. Your neck stretches a bit to accommodate as James continues with a wild smirk on his features. “Just - dropped something while I was cleaning up.” You’re looking at him, ready to scold him under your breath, but the sight of Bond, shirtless, looking up at you while gloved hands rub you… instead you have to bite back a moan.
“Okay...I’ll leave you to it then.” He offers. The footsteps begin to rescind, which is encouragement to James to keep going, fingers now moving to remove your underwear. You’re nearly out of the woods until you hear Q again. “Oh! While I have you.” A balled up fist rests against your forehead in annoyance.
“Yes, Q?” You sigh, glancing at James, who seems to have taken a small break. Finally. You’re shifting so that you’re up on your forearms when he speaks.
“Have you seen 007?” James’ eyes widen and an amused grin fills his face, using the back of his wrist to cover his mouth to hold back a snicker. You look at him with a bit of panic, and he just tilts his head with amusement.
“Um… no, no I have- fuck” The curse leaves you rather unexpectedly, seeing as James has introduced his tongue to your folds at that very moment. Q soon voices concern, steps coming towards you again.
“Are you alright?” He asks, pausing mere feet from the two of you as Bond shamelessly continues to dig his tongue into you, rolling over every inch of you like he was never going to eat anything ever again. A near gasp leaves you as you try to push the agent from his task, failing ridiculously, a hand simply crossing over your hips to push you down.
“Fine! Fine. Just… forgot something at… hoooo…” You drag out the sound for a moment before clearing your throat. “At home.” Q stays still for a moment before seeming to accept it.
“Alright then...I’ll leave you be.” You count each of his steps as James pinpoints his efforts on your clit, doing his best to keep the ball of energy building in you growing. When the door finally clicks shut, you look at him with wide, questioning eyes. Instead of answering, he picks up his pace, tongue moving in a solid line at rapid time. The only thing you can do to keep the sounds from you is to focus on breathing through your nose. And you do just that as you peak, James’ fingers making little shapes on your bare hip as he continues to eat you out through your high. When you’re finally somewhat calm after it all, James is standing up, hand on your bare thigh, comfortingly rubbing it as you relax. You can feel how tired your ab muscles are already, and finally you work up the courage to look at him.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You nearly scream it at him, about to continue on your rampage when you realize he’s undoing his own belt with one hand.
“My mental capacity exams came back fine in my last debriefing. But…” He drops the belt to the floor, a soft rattle on tile as he moves between your legs, each hand propping them up in a bent angle so your feet are flat on the cot. “You should know that already.. Doctor.” He reminds you, only before his head dips to kiss the top of your knee. Hands rest on the back of your calves, watching as you catch your breath.
“I should. I probably do...maybe?” You’re hazy in thinking. Probably due to the earth shattering orgasm you’d just had. His touch is continuing to comfort you as his hands run up and down your calves.
“Oh look at you… laid out for me.. you look so tired princess maybe we should take a break.” His words are tantalizing as he grows closer, trying to meet his face with yours.
“No- no, c’mon we can..” you’re still catching your breath for a second before you hear the shifting of fabric. Your eyes flutter close as you recover, but only to open slowly as James slides himself against you, leaning over to get even closer.
“We can what? You can tell me. Be a good girl…” his sentence pauses as he shifts again, grazing your sensitive clit, “and tell me what we can do, angel.”
“Bond, fuck me already.” You groan, looking at him.
“Mm, that’s not nice princess. You’re going to have to ask nicely.” He hums, hips rocking against you every so often, building an ache for him to just fill you.
“James, please, fuck me. We don’t have a lot of time - I don’t wanna get caught-“
“Caught what?” He asks, looking at you with amused bewilderment. “Caught with.. your coworker..” finally he’s lined up, “filling you up?” He speaks as he moves, careful to give you the time you needed but a groan begins to leave you. James catches it, a gloved hand covering your mouth. “Shh shh. Quiet. Remember?” You look at him and give a shy nod, watching his face light up. “Ahh, good girl.” He hums, beginning to rock his hips out and slowly back into you, praise leaving his lips. “Such a good girl. Being so quiet. Oh look at you..” each praise brings another thrust of his hips, his hand still clasped over your mouth the other resting on the cot as he moves.
Your eyes begin to shut ever so slowly, and Bond clicks his teeth. “Uh uh, love. You look at me, okay?” Blue eyes meet yours as a smile moves it’s way to his face. “Good girl, look at those pretty eyes watching me. Watching me drive deep into you.” He doesn’t slow, even as his free hand moves to pull your leg up, your ankle resting on his shoulder, causing a muffled moan to leave you. “I know, baby. It’s so good. So good for me.”
You can hear it, the beginning of the end. The way his words get sharper, shortened a bit, how his breathing starts to falter, hips a little more sloppy. It’s not until he’s close that he adds a thumb to your clit, hoping to send you over with just enough. And he does, as your body seems to shiver with the feeling, clenching muscles, tightening around him - only for him to follow right along. James rolls through both of your aftershocks, sloppy excuses for thrusts before he stops completely, standing and watching you with admiration. “That… that was hot.” He states, pulling his hand away.
“Agreed. I’m just glad we didn’t get caught.” You tack on, feeling him pull out and tucking himself away, picking up your discarded items and helping them on. “I ugh… I need to shower.” You offer as you stand on - albeit shaky - feet.
“I probably do too. You head out first, I’ll wait?” You give a nod and move the curtain back, quick to head of the med bay to go and shower.
What you don’t know is Q comes back looking for you, and finds a very sweaty and shirtless Bond taking off examination gloves.
“Oh there you are, I was looking for you.” He comments, before furrowing his brow. “How long have you been here?” He questions, looking around - probably for you.
“Not too long. I was just waiting on the doctor to come.” He shrugs, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on.
“Did she?” Q asks as the two men head from the bay to the hall.
