[ He has nothing but bed sheets to grip to now. He'd complain if he weren't getting his brains fucked out by possibly the single most beautiful man he's ever laid eyes on. Muscle, rugged good looks, older. Every thing he's ever found attractive and here he is with his cock thrusting fast and deep. Those calloused hands at hip and cock.

Fuck it. He doesn't care about pretense anymore. This is something he's been thinking about for so damn long. Q grips tight with legs and arms when Bond dares to come closer. His whole body feels like a fucking frenzy and the heat at the pit of his stomach only grows tighter. ]

Yes but- [ Oh fuck yes, James. Just like that. He forces his eyes open again. ] Different.

[ He presses their mouths together but far enough that between shifting and talking he's still able to. There is no harshness to his voice. Only more wanton moans as his hips try to push back for every push in, tighten when he does. Why isn't Bond's hair long enough to pull? ]

Riding you until your hips were sore. You bending me over and fucking me senseless.