provocateur_king (
provocateur_king) wrote2023-02-04 05:36 pm
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Spy's Cove - The Hidden
Bond had been planning his next move. They were ashore until the moon changed and Bond was taking full advantage. He had books and charts and papers to pour over. He sent letters by raven and eagerly awaited for the birds to return.
In the mean time, there was food and drink and a warm, full bed.
At least usually. There was nothing warm and fresh when he visited the kitchen so he made do with a bit of cheese to nibble as he began to look for Q. Not in Bond's chamber, nor the kitchen, nor the study.
He opened another door to peek inside.
"Oh. There you are," he said.
In the mean time, there was food and drink and a warm, full bed.
At least usually. There was nothing warm and fresh when he visited the kitchen so he made do with a bit of cheese to nibble as he began to look for Q. Not in Bond's chamber, nor the kitchen, nor the study.
He opened another door to peek inside.
"Oh. There you are," he said.
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"Not here," he said. "If I'd captured you at sea, you'd be enjoying my brig."
He tore the belt free and tossed it aside, then loosened his grip on Q's jaw only to drag his palm down his throat.
The brig had been empty on the ship, but behind the iron grate were shackles bolted to the wall of the ship. It was dark, damp, and cold. Here, at least, it was dry and warm.
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Q swallowed hard beneath Bond's palm, watching the other man intently.
"But we're not at sea, we're here. So what was your grand plan if I'd denied you?"
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Bond squeezed his throat and kissed him hard in reply, using his whole body to keep him in place.
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Q kissed him back, before remembering he was supposed to be playing hard to get and biting Bond's tongue just hard enough to sting.
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Bond jerked back, but tightened his hold on Q's throat as he did.
"Do I need to beat the fight out of you?" he asked, sounding hungry at the very idea.
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"if that's as creative as you're capable of being," Q replied, holding Bond's gaze.
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"You have no idea how creative I can be," he rumbled.
He stepped away, then, and undid his own belt, pulling it free and letting it dangle.
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Q rolled his eye at the dramatics, pushing his glasses back up his nose and looking Bond over.
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Bond wet his lips.
Then he jerked Q from the wall and looped his belt around his neck, using it to drag him to the corner where a cross of wood stood waiting to receive him. It had handles on each side, but at the top and bottom of the X were binding points. Bond put him just where he wanted him to be.
"I'll offer you the choice of holding on, or being bound. To show you how kind I can be."
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"I think we both know I'm not going to cooperate, but your kindness is noted," Q said dryly. Though for all his posturing, it was obvious he was suddenly a little nervous.
This was far more severe looking than anything in his bodice ripping pirate novel.
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Bond lifted his hand like he may slap him, but then stroked his cheek before kissing him.
"It wouldn't be fun if you were a model prisoner," he whispered.
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Q tensed when it seemed like Bond might strike him, but relaxed at the softer touch.
John would be so annoyed if he knew what he was getting up to here. He'd probably have him liked away in the tower.
God's, he hoped the cards didn't fill him in.
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Bond continued to linger at his lips, but his hands caught Q's wrists and pulled them into place to bind him to the wood. When they were secure, he stepped back to appreciate the sight of him.
"That's made from the mast of The Syrene," he said. "If we were at sea, you'd be bound on deck for everyone to see as I lashed you publically."
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Q pulled on his bonds, stomach turning nervously. He hadn't been whipped since he was a boy, long before Bond had fished him out of the water.
"Another ship you sank?" he asked, trying to seem calmer than he felt.
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Bond chuckled at that.
"I fish boys out of the drink, not wreckage. The Syrene ran aground in the southern ocean. We ransacked her when we rescued the crew."
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"So you've never taken a trophy?" Q asked. "It's dreadfully difficult keeping track of your morals is all."
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Bond undid Q's fly and dropped his trousers, leaving him bare except for the bit of shirt that clung to his shoulder.
"You're my trophy," he said simply, indulging in the desire to caress Q's bare skin with rough, firm hands.
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Q still struggled with the idea that Bond wanted him. Wanted him enough to take him. Bond could have anyone, surely, with just a wink and a smile. Yet he'd picked him. He'd stolen him even.
"Not itching to give me back yet?" the wizard asked, gasping beneath Bond's touch.
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"Now that I've got you, I'm never letting you go again," he promised, his hands growing rougher, scratching and gripping and pinching him as he enjoyed the shape of him.
"And if you run...I'll bring you back. You belong here now."
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Q pulled on the ropes again, pretending to resist. Though the truth was he loved when Bond touched him like this, like he was his.
One day they'd do this without nearly having a fight first.
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Bond's hands trailed lower and lower, giving his ass a hard grope and a smack.
"You've never once called me sir," he said. "In here, that's what you'll say."
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"Absolutely not," Q gasped, attempting to wriggle away. "I'm not calling you sir."
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Bond grabbed his cock, then a handful of hair. Wrenching Q's head to the side, he held him there.
"Try that again."
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Q let out a soft whimper, but he was stubborn, and he held Bond's gaze.
"I said, I'm not calling you sir," he said again.
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Bond shifted his grip, grabbed him by the balls, and squeezed.
He gave his head a shake.
"One more time."
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