James Bond Need

**A/N: This contains trigger warnings for suggested rape and dubious consent as well as gun play. If any of that makes you uncomfortable please do not read. Rated for sexual content and violence so take heed.**

There it was again. That hitch of breath, the tiny noise in the throat, barely perceptible unless you were close enough to run your lips across his gorgeous alabaster skin.

"Next corridor on your left Bond. Two between you and the exit, both armed. Three more following you, ETA two minutes. I respectfully suggest you get your arse out of there."

"Doing my best, Q. Had your device worked within the specified five seconds instead of thirty I would have been out of here already."

"Blame the equipment if it makes you feel better 007. Properly armed it explodes within five. You didn't twist the cap far enough to the right for the chemical components to..."

His estranged husband broke off with another tiny gasp that transmitted through the earpiece and landed like an ice shard to Bond's heart. He gritted his teeth and almost took an uppercut to the chin as he quickly despatched his two assailants, pocketing one gun and kicking the other out of reach of the suddenly unconscious men.

"If you could concentrate on not getting me killed Q, that would be appreciated. Your new _friend_ can surely control himself for another ten minutes."

"ETA forty-five seconds." Q said tightly, eyes on the bank of monitors, fingers tapping rapidly at the keys as he worked to bypass the electronic lock on the door ahead of his ex-partner. He heard the satisfying click over the earpiece as it disengaged and a moment later Bond's trackers showed he was safely through. Three keystrokes later, with 007 on the right side of the barrier, Q engaged the building's emergency lockdown function effectively trapping the 00 agent's pursuers inside.

Bond walked calmly away down the street, brushing dust from his Armani suit and discarding his purloined security badge in a nearby rubbish bin.

"You're on your own from here 007. Signing off."

"Aren't I fucking _just_," growled Bond pushing through the door of the nearest bar and ordering a single malt, downing it, ordering another. Normally he would get as far away from the scene as he could before indulging in his downtime but working with Q these days left him in desperate need of a drink.

Three months since he'd walked out on his husband. Three months since Q had admitted to the affair that had killed their relationship stone dead. It should get easier in that time, but no. Every day it seemed to hurt more not less. James, uncharacteristically, had been the one who wanted to talk, to resolve it and rebuild, but Q shut him out, switching from loving partner to distant work colleague like they hadn't experienced the most intense ten months of their respective lives.

Q wouldn't reveal the name of his lover but it was clear now it was someone in MI6. Male definitely, which halved the list of potential candidates, and someone with access to 'mission control' as the Q-branch minions fondly nicknamed Q's vast bank of screens. M was far too bound by protocol to start fondling the Quartermaster while he was directing a mission and Tanner was straighter than a ruler, which left half a dozen minions and a couple of 00s. Whoever it was, Bond was coming round to the idea of murder.

A door slammed and there was a click of a safety being removed, followed by a deep throated groan and a thump as a body slammed into the door. Bond was on his feet instantly, looking around him in confusion, registering a moment later that the sounds were coming through his earpiece, presumably from Q's office.

"Fucking hell Q, turn your mic off," he growled, but clearly Q had removed his own earpiece and had no idea that his husband could hear the slightly wet sounds of enthusiastic kissing And the whines that used to drive him wild issuing from Q's lips for another man.

There was a thump and a hiss of pain that stopped Bond from ripping the earpiece from his ear. Q whimpered and it wasn't an altogether erotic sound. Bond froze when the familiar voice breathed over Q's skin inches from the microphone still pinned to his cardigan.

"You look so beautiful with my hand around your throat and my gun to your head, little Q. Tell Alec what that pretty mouth wants today - my cock or my gun?"

"C-cock?"

"Are you asking?"

"T-telling. I want your cock in my mouth and your g-gun to my h-head while I suck you off."

"Good boy, pretty Q. Let me hear how much you love it."

Bond gripped the whisky glass, fingers white, mouth set in a thin line as he listened to the man he loved pleasure his best friend while the friend in question held a gun against his temple. His _fucking best friend! _Alec's groans were distant compared to the wet moans and hums that issued from Q's throat as he worked, but every so often Q would hiss or cry out as Alec did something that clearly hurt him. Bond was on his feet and moving towards the door the instant Alec came down Q's throat, a gunshot echoing in his ear.

The drive from Paris was hellish. Bond should have removed the earpiece. He should have stopped torturing himself the minute panic subsided on hearing Q's voice shakily scold Alec Trevelyan for putting a bullet in his floor. He should not have listened to the love of his life being fucked painfully at gunpoint into the same floor by his former best friend.

Bond didn't understand the dynamic. Alec was straight, had never shown any inclination towards men, employed any means possible to extract information from men without resorting to seduction. Women yes, men, hell no. Q sounded genuinely terrified of the pain he was experiencing but his groans of pleasure and subsequent joyous yell when he achieved orgasm indicated whatever was going on was consensual. Didn't it? Bond wasn't strictly vanilla, but he couldn't make sense of what he heard. He floored the accelerator and the Aston leapt forward.

It was 3am when Bond strode into Q-branch. A handful of minions scattered, making themselves scarce as 007's blue laser stare fixed on the closed door of Q's office. Bond knew he was still in there though the mic had stopped transmitting a couple of hours earlier when Q had suddenly realised while dressing that he hadn't turned it off. Alec, the yellow bastard, had panicked, laying into Q with words rather than fists, until Q rather sadly suggested he make himself scarce, perhaps even leave the country for a while. Bond presumed he had left, so he was astounded to barge into the office to find both men calmly drinking tea. Well, Q looked calm, a Walther steadily pointed at his husband's torso. Alec looked like he was facing his own execution, but his gun - _the_ gun - was on Q's desk out of reach.

"Weapon on the desk please 007. We wouldn't want any accidents in my office would we? Paperwork is a bugger."

Keeping his icy glare on his former friend he carelessly tossed his gun down.

"And the other one. I don't want any more misunderstandings."

Bond pulled the gun that he'd taken from the scene out of his pocket, checked it over and placed that one more carefully beside the growing collection. Q let out a sigh of relief and swept all four weapons into his top drawer, locking it and pocketing the key.

"Would you like to sit down?" He asked shakily.

"I'll stand," Bond replied. If he was going to kill Trevelyan he didn't need a gun to do it. Q simply nodded, watching him warily.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that. It wasn't the way I would have chosen to tell you."

"You didn't intend to tell me at all Q. I gave you ample opportunity, I even fucking _begged_, and now I see why. Fucking a random stranger - I could have lived with that. Maybe even fucking a lowly MI6 employee, but it had to be him. _Why_?"

Bond was ashamed of the break in his voice and the way his breathing became ragged with emotion. Q licked his lips nervously and glanced at the other blond man in the room who sat still as a statue, worried that any movement would be the spark that ignited the situation.

"It isn't what you think," Q said after a few minutes of deathly silence.

Bond's hands formed tight fists as he fought to control his temper. Relief at seeing his ex-partner apparently unharmed only went so far to temper his anger apparently.

"Right," he said dangerously. "So you're not fucking 006? Or are we going to try to get out of this on a technicality and say _he's_ fucking _you_? Either way, he's going to die, so maybe you can do me the courtesy of finally giving me some answers?"

"You need to be honest with him Q." Trevelyan sounded remarkably calm for a man whose life was under threat, but then he was a 00 too. Bond glared at him but took several steps towards Q, looming over him where the dark haired younger man sat. Trevelyan shifted, ready to spring into action if Bond made a move to hurt him, but 007 thrust out a hand behind him in a gesture that screamed 'stay'. He stayed.

"Yes Q, try being fucking honest." Bond rarely swore and when he did it meant extremes of emotion had ruffled him badly. Q looked at him and felt his heart break at the depth of pain he saw in the other man's eyes. He had never intended things to end like this. He loved Bond, _James_, with all his heart, but he just couldn't give him what Q so desperately needed to feel alive. Sex on the edge of darkness. Truly dangerous sex with a deadly man. Bond should have been that man but in the bedroom he was loving, caring, giving and considerate. Any moves Q made to push things into an edgier sphere had been met with reluctance and discomfort, and for a while Q had been ok with that. But then the sky fell in.

Q swallowed hard but met his husband's eyes, determined to prove to him that everything he was about to say was the truth.

"Sometimes I need more than love and care to feel fulfilled sexually. Being threatened and scared turns me on. Fucking someone who has the power to hurt me, really hurt me, maybe even kill me, achieves an incredible release. My whole body and mind white out for a while and it's the most heightened sexual and mental experience I have ever had. I'm not saying I need this in the bedroom to be satisfied. It's an occasional thing, when my stress levels go beyond what I can cope with. Afterwards I become calm and feel back in control. It don't enjoy dom/sub play as a general rule, but this... This is a terrifying physical need that requires absolute trust in the person I'm with that they won't damage me beyond repair while knowing they definitely _could_ if they desired it."

Bond looked faintly green, his mouth compressed in a thin line as he tried to process what his lover was telling him. "Rape fantasies? I could never..."

"No!" Q said sharply. "_Always_ consensual. _That is non-negotiable_. I don't have a death wish, I don't _want_ to be damaged. I _do_ want to know that the man I'm with could strangle me with his bare hands, or could pull the trigger of the gun in my mouth or could dig the point of the knife in a little too far. I _need_ to know that he wouldn't."

"Accidents happen Q," Bond whispered hoarsely, swallowing past his fear for his husband. "You trust _him_?" He jerked his head at 006 who was staying perfectly still. Q nodded. "_Why_?"

"The Birmingham abduction," Q said simply, and several pieces fell into place. Q had been abducted briefly six months earlier whilst on a mission posing as a hacker. 006 had already infiltrated the group and had worked his way up to third-in-command in a very short space of time. It allowed him to take over the 'torture' of the prisoner and ultimately work on extracting him.

"The medical report said you were sexually assaulted by your captors. It was _him_." Bond flew at Trevelyan but 006 had been waiting for the attack and skipped out of the way as his chair tumbled over.

"Bond, stop! _James_! It's not what you think."

Bond's fist was wrapped tightly in the other 00's shirt, snarling face inches away. 006 gulped and turned alarmed eyes to Q.

"Q, I'd appreciate it if you'd explain a little faster please. He has a gun pressed to my stomach."

"What? James, where the hell were you hiding that? Do I really have to fucking search you before every argument?"

"Keep talking Q, I won't shoot him yet."

"Um... Ok. Alec was under orders to use any means necessary to get information. The leader threatened to rape me, Alec volunteered."

"Not making me any less inclined to kill him Q."

"I um... I told him it was ok. To go ahead and make it look real. He did and i had to trust him. When I realised I did, it sort of... Flicked a switch." Bond winced and Trevelyan flinched as the barrel pressed harder against his abdomen. "When the bomb went off and the ceiling caved in I couldn't believe we weren't dead. Relief, adrenaline... I don't know. I held his gun against my head and asked him to fuck me. All of this is my fault. Please don't blame him."

Bond was silent but Trevelyan could feel the tremors of fury that ran through his body. Abruptly 007 stepped away levelling the gun at his chest.

"Out!" He commanded, flicking the gun at the door.

"James...? I don't think I should leave Q here with you..."

"Do you _want_ to fucking die right now Alec? If not, go now before I change my mind. And clear everyone out of Q-branch if you would be so kind!"

006 looked at Q who nodded. "It'll be ok," he said, praying he was correct. The door closed behind Alec and Q was glad of the soundproofing he'd had installed. Gunshots, yelling, fucking... His poor staff would be even more terrified of him if they knew the extent of Q's activities behind that closed door.

Bond locked it and stalked towards him, pinning him with burning blue eyes, gun held loosely by his side. It wasn't a weapon Q recognised as MI6 issue which meant he didn't know it's operation in infinite detail. He didn't know how heavy it was if it connected with his cheekbone in a side swipe, how cold the barrel would be against his lips or what it would taste like on his tongue. He had no idea how sensitive the trigger was... He shuddered and licked his lips, breathing a little more shallowly as his husband stood before him.

"You will never understand how fucking furious I am with you. You left me and didn't have the decency to tell me why. You broke my heart."

"I'm sorry. When you confronted me about the affair I panicked. I couldn't explain this to you. I knew you wouldn't want it."

"Shut up! You don't get to sit there and talk. On your fucking knees, now!"

"W-what...?"

"Knees! Now!" He reached forward grabbing the younger man by his hair and dragging him from his chair until he fell on the floor at his feet. Q looked up at him fearfully. James had never been rough with him in any context even when Q had desired it, and now he was looking up at the man he loved realising 007 could be every inch the cold hearted killer. He was scared, and he was aroused but he didn't trust James right at this moment. This wasn't a sex game between two equal partners, this was James at his most terrifying, when calm had left him and he was volatile.

James threw off his jacket not caring that the designer fabric lay crumpled on the floor. His belt slid free in a whisper of leather and was tossed aside, and then he was unzipping his trousers, shoving them and his pants down his thighs. He pressed the gun against Q's temple and dragged him closer by his hair pushing the younger man's face into his groin.

"Make me fucking understand Q. Show me what you need. What he gives you that I can't."

Tears pricked at Q's eyes as he breathed in the familiar smell of his husband. In spite of the circumstances, memory said he'd missed being this close to the man he loved. James was flaccid against his cheek, no indication he found this situation stimulating at all but his fingers tangled painfully in Q's hair forcing his forehead against the flat plane of his tanned stomach.

"Suck me!"

Q obliged with a quiet sob, rolling James' soft cock against his tongue, sucking gently and caressing the loose skin. The circle of metal pressed to his brow was cold initially until the heat of his skin warmed it. James stood rigidly, hardly breathing as he concentrated on keeping the gun absolutely still. He knew he was trembling, could feel the quiver in his stomach and legs, but his hand was steady.

Q's hands moved to wrap around his thighs, sliding around to grip them just below his buttocks. In spite of himself blood diverted to his cock, rushing towards the warm wet heat of Q's mouth. He had missed Q's mouth in every respect - smart comments, teasing kisses, leisurely blow jobs. He wanted it again, needed Q as badly as he needed air to breathe. He grew fuller between Q's lips, ignoring the silent tears that slipped down his cheeks to drop lightly onto Q's upturned face.

Q felt the second one land and opened his eyes looking up at his husband with such need and sorrow James gasped and his hand twitched on the gun handle. The sudden spike of terror that he held Q's life in his hands made him want to scream but the sound wouldn't force itself from his lungs. Q smiled, honest to god smiled, and sucked more firmly on his cock, hands moving up to grip James' arse.

It was a mass of confusing sensation that 007 was having a great deal of dufficulty processing. His lover's mouth on his now very eager cock and his narrow fingers alternating between squeezing his buttocks and teasing up the crack of his arse, warred with his still simmering anger and his fear of losing control and killing the only man he had ever loved. He needed a breather, needed to take back some control. He tore Q's arms from his thighs and stepped away.

"Bend over the desk."

Anger was still dominant but it was tinged with a dark undertone of desire. Without thinking his empty hand reached for his leaking cock, gripping loosely and pumping it slowly. Q licked precum from his lips, scrambling to his feet in haste to obey. He leaned over his desk, bending his long frame at the hips. Bond growled at the rogue thought that flitted into his brain that Alec had taken his husband like this.

"I hate that Alec fucked you."

He forced his hand into the back of Q's neck, pushing him prone against the wood until his cheek squashed against it. He lifted his finger from the trigger and slammed the gun down on the desk a bare inch from Q's nose. Q let out a moan that was nothing short of obscene and sagged against the desk, rolling his hips to slide his clothed erection against the table top.

"I hate that you trusted him more than me."

James thrust his hand beneath his husband and unfastened his trousers, ripping them and his underwear roughly down to his ankles. He removed Q's shoes and socks, then the lower clothing before hauling Q to his feet and demanding that he remove his shirt. When Q stood naked in front of him, cock hard and weeping, James finally looked at him properly.

Q was breathing hard, his dark green eyes blown with need. His pale skin was marred with fresh bruises on his upper arms, hips and inner thighs. He chewed his lower lip under James' close scrutiny. Slowly he reached out and picked up the gun from the desk. It's weight was unfamiliar in his hand, a model he hadn't played with. He knew enough to check the safety, ensuring it was on before he ran his hands sensuously over the barrel, stroking it up the underside of his cock until it glistened wetly. Cautiously he raised it to his lips, clicking off the safety and slipping it into the cavern of his mouth, sucking his taste from the cold metal.

James made a sound deep in his throat that was half lust, half terror. He was so still Q could barely register the rise and fall of his chest, too scared to make a move in case he startled his lover into making a mistake. He withdrew the gun, setting it carefully back on the desk where James had left it and turned his back on his husband, returning to the position James had demanded.

"Fuck me James. Please."

James seized his hips, kicking his feet apart so Q fell heavily against the desk. His cock was trapped against the wood, the edge biting painfully into the top of his thighs. Without warning or ceremony 007 located his hole and thrust hard into him. Q screamed and James swore. James' fingers bit into his skinny hips as he pulled out and slammed in again, once, twice, three times, each one drawing a half sob from the younger man. James paused, until Q whispered "Don't stop. I need it."

"I hate that he was inside you Q. I hate that his fingers marked you. I hate that he took what was _mine_. Say it Q. Say that you're _mine_." Each statement was punctuated with a violent thrust so hard the desk started to jolt across the floor. Q's eyes were wide, fixed on the gun that rattled by his face.

"I-I'm yours James. Always."

James fell against his back, fingers reaching for the gun. He couldn't trust himself to point it against his lover's head, but he pressed the side of it to Q's cheek, barrel lying along the side of his face as he fucked Q hard. Q's cock slid punishingly against the unforgiving surface of the desk but it was right... Everything was _good_... The cold press of the weapon on his face, the hard surface, the strong, scary man that he _loved so goddamn much_ fucking him into oblivion...

Q screamed when he came, a shocking feral noise that ripped from his aching dry throat. His cum coated the desktop, mingling with his sweat, making his body slip against the surface so James had to throw the gun to the floor and grab his waist and hold on while he roared through one of the most powerful orgasms of his life. James finally understood what Q meant by whiting out as the room, the world, his history and future, all disappeared in the blinding surge that crashed over him. All that mattered was the man underneath him and the white hot rush that overwhelmed them both.

It was long minutes before they came back to themselves sufficiently to move. James pushed himself off his husband, pulling his trousers into place and tucking himself away. Q was slumped across the desk, worryingly unresponsive, not even stirring when cum trickled down his leg. James found tissues, cleaning him with care, easing him upright and wiping the mess from his stomach.

"Are you ok?"

Q looked at him blankly. James straightened his glasses, brushed his hair from his brow and hugged him.

"One moment."

He found the gun on the floor, ensured the safety was on and set it carefully on the desk, then he helped Q back into his underwear and shirt. The rest could wait. Q kept a zed bed in the corner of his office for impromptu naps. James led him to the narrow bed and helped him lay down. There was barely enough room for one decent sized man but luckily Q was a bag of bones. James arranged himself behind his husband, wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man.

"I love you Q," he whispered softly. "I would do anything for you."

Q whimpered. "I'm sorry for ruining everything. It was such a big thing to ask..."

"Sh, my love. Nothing is ever too big to talk about. Go to sleep now. I'm here."

It was sometime later that Q whispered into the darkness, "I love you too James, very much."

James smiled into the dark and kissed his neck. "Sleep, my Q."


End file.
