Heartless
It was obvious, really, to a man with Bond’s perception. Late nights, drinks he wouldn’t share, secretive, ridiculously precise diction. Not to mention the pale skin. Of course Q was a vampire.
It didn’t change the fact that Bond found him irresistible on every conceivable level. But, he supposed, that was part of the package with vampires - preternatural allure.
He still pursued the boffin, still bedded him, still pulled him to his chest as they lay panting after.
And it was then - and only then - that he realized.
“You don’t actually need to breathe, do you?” he peered at Q through the gloom.
“Um, no. Not as such.”
“Why are you, then?”
“It...puts humans at ease, the more I mime the processes of your biology.”
“Don’t.” Bond said, gently. “I want to know you as you are.”
Q went completely still, the only thing that gave him away was the gleam of his eyes as he tracked Bond’s movements. Ever the hunter.
Bond ran his hand over Q’s pale chest, waiting for a twitch of muscle, an involuntary breath, but none came. He blew across Q’s nipple, but it didn’t rise in response.
“No autonomic responses at all?” he pinched said nipple, just to be sure, and Q shifted, slightly, and took a shallow breath.
“Not... zero, precisely. But very diminished.”
“Fascinating.” Bond grinned up at Q as he laid his ear over Q’s silent heart.
Q chuckled and shook his head. “Most people would say it’s unnerving.”
“I find it immensely comforting,” Bond said, keeping his ear pressed to Q’s chest, reveling in the silence. “I don’t feel responsible for keeping it beating.”