Hello Weekend
Title: Hello Weekend
Author: gwylliondream
Pairing: Bond/Q
Rating: NC-17
Words: 200
A/N: Written for the 2017 00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing.
Prompt: “Transform,” Genre: Fluff, Fibonacci number paragraph construction.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
“I thought I’d find you here, Quartermaster,” Bond's voice fluttered into Q's ear.
With his back to the door, Q hadn't noticed Bond entering the club.
The dry ice fog billowed across the dance floor. Q's hips pulsed to the beat of the music.
Q had taken care to remove his glasses and tousle his hair before he left his subterranean workshop. Black leather trousers clung to his thighs. The scarf draped around his neck moved with the music, providing a peek of his bared nipples as Q swayed and grooved.
Resting his head on Bond’s shoulder, Q felt warm arms wrap around his waist. The club had been Q’s way to unwind after a hectic week at MI6. He and Bond had been together for a full year before he encouraged Bond to join him. It seemed like a lot to ask- for the suave agent to accept that his Quartermaster turned into a gyrating minx when he left work on Friday. Fortunately, Bond didn’t mind.
Q turned in Bond's arms. “I’m ready to leave now,” he said, “but we need to stop for butter on the way home. Remember, I promised to make your favourite scones for breakfast.”
Author: gwylliondream
Pairing: Bond/Q
Rating: NC-17
Words: 200
A/N: Written for the 2017 00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing.
Prompt: “Transform,” Genre: Fluff, Fibonacci number paragraph construction.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
“I thought I’d find you here, Quartermaster,” Bond's voice fluttered into Q's ear.
With his back to the door, Q hadn't noticed Bond entering the club.
The dry ice fog billowed across the dance floor. Q's hips pulsed to the beat of the music.
Q had taken care to remove his glasses and tousle his hair before he left his subterranean workshop. Black leather trousers clung to his thighs. The scarf draped around his neck moved with the music, providing a peek of his bared nipples as Q swayed and grooved.
Resting his head on Bond’s shoulder, Q felt warm arms wrap around his waist. The club had been Q’s way to unwind after a hectic week at MI6. He and Bond had been together for a full year before he encouraged Bond to join him. It seemed like a lot to ask- for the suave agent to accept that his Quartermaster turned into a gyrating minx when he left work on Friday. Fortunately, Bond didn’t mind.
Q turned in Bond's arms. “I’m ready to leave now,” he said, “but we need to stop for butter on the way home. Remember, I promised to make your favourite scones for breakfast.”