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Q had spent the entire return journey knowing that the second they got back, there wouldn’t be a word in the English language that was going to do justice to the trouble that followed. He remained calm for now, letting it seem as though he had absolutely no idea of what was to come. He knew he was going to need to conserve his anger for later, when he had two highly volatile men to deal with who would probably be completely disinterested in listening to him and more interested in beating the shit out of one another.
Q fought the urge to sigh. He just wanted to go home and sleep, but of course that wasn’t going to happen.
James was seething. Q could feel the anger coming off him in waves, much like the ones the yacht was currently rolling and pitching in. Storms blew in quickly around here, and there was a slight twist of anxiety in the pit of Q’s stomach as the yacht seemed ever smaller compared to the growing waves. He knew they would make it to dock with plenty of time before the major part of the storm hit, but it was stress that he didn’t need right now.
He supposed he could at least be grateful for the fact that he didn’t get seasick easily. If he had to have a crippling fear of flying, he supposed this was a fair trade-off.
“What time is it?” James asked, his voice curt.
“Eleven fifty,” Q answered, resisting the urge to snap. He hated it when James was like this. The man was incapable of directing his anger towards the people who deserved it. Once he was in a foul mood, it seemed that everyone had to be. No doubt Raoul would find the fact incredibly amusing, as always, and James’s anger would only grow.
“It’s taking too long.”
James’s voice had a pout to it, reminding Q of an impatient child.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his jaw tight. “I’ll go up on deck and tell the storm to fuck off for your convenience.”
James snorted. “What’s crawled up your arse?”
The question was so unfair, so downright inappropriate considering the tension that Q had been dealing with for hours now, that he couldn’t help but round on James, his eyes narrowed.
“What’s crawled up my arse?” he demanded. “Well, where do I start? Should I begin with the fact that you deviated from the plan again and nearly got us both killed, or should I go for the fact you’re trying to blame Raoul for everything instead? Which brings me to another option – perhaps I should start with the fact that you’re bloody incapable of taking responsibility for your actions, or perhaps I can really strike out on a whim and go with the fact that the last thing I want to do once I’ve returned from an assignment is play conflict resolution with you and Raoul.”
To Q’s frustration, James didn’t look in the least bit chastised by his outburst.
“You don’t have to get involved, Q,” he said simply. “After all, you did everything as you should. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, very likely,” Q said, rolling his eyes. He wanted to rip into James for avoiding the fact that Q had very much been putting up with his bullshit for hours, but it was clear it would all fall on deaf ears. “You know if I’m not there to at least keep an eye on things, the two of you would kill one another.”
“But what can you actually do, Q?” James asked, leaning back in his seat as the yacht pitched again. “Say we really were going for the kill. I’m pretty sure we both regularly lift suitcases that weigh more than you do.”
“You say that like physical strength is the only manner of persuasion,” Q said. He glared ahead of him, to the dark circle right opposite him that was apparently a view to the outside. The only thing he could see was the occasional glint of the lights against the spray on the outside of the window. It was all getting a bit intimidating, if he were honest.
“Try not to worry so much, Q,” James said, smiling. The rumble of thunder that reached them was more than slightly over dramatic, Q thought. “Just get yourself to bed and relax.”
“Like that’ll be able to happen,” Q said. “Anyway, you seem to think that it’s just Raoul who has a problem. Both of you seem to forget that I might be capable of being annoyed, too.”
“Why are you annoyed?” James asked, and there was finally a hint of frustration in his voice. “Christ, it wasn’t your orders I disobeyed.”
“No, but it was still me you threw headlong into danger,” Q snapped. “Forgive me, James, but rogue agents like you are a dime a dozen for Raoul. I’m much more difficult to replace, so maybe handle me a little more carefully.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” James said, smirking, and Q resisted the urge to punch him only because he knew where it would end up – with him bent over something, no doubt, and wishing he could stay angry at James for longer than thirty seconds after his hand dipped below his belt.
“Don’t try that on me,” Q warned, and James just laughed.
Twenty minutes passed, and Q could feel the boat growing steadily more unstable. He was beginning to get genuinely worried for their safety by the time the sea seemed to calm around them, revealing that they had made it into the shelter provided by the island’s steep sides and its manmade harbour. They remained below deck until the last moment, and then, clutching his laptop case close to him, Q ventured upstairs without waiting for James.
The island blocked most of the wind, but the weather was still frightful. Q was blown to the side several times by a stray gust, and the rain was so heavy that in the breaks between the wind, it fell straight down. Behind him, out to sea, the sky lit up with lightning. Q shivered as a low roll of thunder extended towards him, growing louder and then fading; it made for an eerie scene as it passed over the skeletons of the island’s abandoned buildings. Q wondered how many of them would collapse by the time the storm blew itself out.
“Perfect weather for a murder, wouldn’t you say?”
James had appeared beside him, having to almost shout to be heard over the storm. Q just rolled his eyes.
“Hopefully yours!” he called back, before he quickly moved along the deck towards the unsteady gangplank. Thankfully he seemed to be blessed with sea legs – the rolling of the boat never bothered him, and even with the gusts of wind and slippery deck he managed to stay relatively steady, his balance adjusting for every slight movement of the deck below him. He felt an odd sense of satisfaction over the fact that James seemed to have more difficulty than he did.
He felt slightly unsteady once he was off the yacht, the stillness of the ground a shock for his now sensitive balance. James caught up with him as he left the harbour behind and headed out into the maze of buildings, keeping his eyes skyward to watch for falling debris. The wind was stronger up towards the tops of the buildings, rushing through the broken windows like a massive organ. Q was always unnerved by the sound.
“It’s like the set of a bloody horror movie,” James said, and for once that evening, Q didn’t disagree with him.
It was a relief to duck into one of the occupied buildings, with its light and warmth and thick walls that blocked out most of the storm’s noise. The lights dimmed and flickered every so often, meaning that Raoul was redirecting most of their generators’ power towards the servers – something he only did in extreme weather conditions. Q found himself wondering how the hell they had made the crossing.
Q shook himself off slightly, feeling water dripping from his hair. It had been refreshing while outside in the humidity, but now it only served to remind him how warm he was. James had already pulled one of the guys nearby, asking where Raoul was, and Q briefly wished he’d thrown the man over the side of the harbour when he’d had the chance.
“Would I be wasting my breath if I told you to at least listen to him?” Q asked, as they quickly made their way in the direction that they had been pointed in.
“Absolutely,” James said, and Q sighed.
They had to take the rickety old lift at the end of the server room, which Q didn’t like doing on the best of days but especially detested when storms threatened to cut the power supply. Despite the fact that they were surrounded by people more than capable of getting things running again without too much of a delay, Q didn’t think he would be able to spend even five minutes trapped in such close quarters with James right now. Thankfully they made it to the top without any interruptions; Q let James march ahead while he dragged his heels, not looking forward to the following half an hour in the slightest.
Sometimes it amazed Q how long James could hold on to his anger for. It was like there was some kind of compartment that James could store it away in, and then as soon as it was convenient, he’d unleash it full force like no time had passed at all. Q wondered how exhausting that was. He didn’t have the time for it, personally. His motto was that if he was still upset about something after a certain amount of time, then it was time for discrete but devastating revenge. He supposed that was what Raoul liked about him.
Raoul had left his door open, and Q could already hear there was a heated discussion occurring. He sighed and let himself in, kicking the door closed behind him. Raoul had a fairly decent setup, having knocked through several interior walls to make himself a spacious lounge area with a bedroom off to the side. Q set his laptop bag down on one of the sofas salvaged from the residential apartments and looked around the room briefly, before spotting what he had been looking for. He walked over to the table and poured himself a large measure of spiced rum, his preferred drink of choice, and then he sat on the other sofa and sipped at it, waiting for things to get really heated.
To his surprise, he saw Raoul before pieces of furniture started being thrown. The man looked predictably pissed off, but his face brightened when he saw Q – something that Q found either meant very good things or the complete opposite.
“Q, darling,” he said, and Q raised an eyebrow.
“It sounds like you want something,” he said. “I’m hesitant to ask what.”
“Oh, nothing serious, nothing serious,” Raoul said, waving a hand. “Just your support, I suppose. It seems our dear James has got it into his head that I’m entirely to blame, and I was wondering if I could get a little backup.”
“You know I don’t get involved with these things, Raoul,” Q said, setting his glass down on the side table. “I’m just here to make sure the two of you don’t kill one another. At least keep it to non-permanent damage.”
“All the more reason for you to intervene, then,” Raoul said, beckoning Q with a finger before turning back to the bedroom.
Q was about to ignore him when he realised something wasn’t quite right about the situation. Raoul had left the door open behind him but James hadn’t followed him out – highly unusual for the man when he was enraged – and to top it off, while Q could still hear James’s angry yelling, everything he was saying sounded muffled.
“Oh, Christ,” he muttered, standing up and heading after Raoul. “What the bloody hell has he done now?”
Raoul had obviously known he would follow eventually, because the man was now seated quite comfortably on the bed, his suit jacket shrugged off and neatly folded over the back of a nearby chair. There were two chairs in the room, and for a moment Q couldn’t spot the other one. He glanced around and finally saw it when he was fully in the room, facing the door again. James was seated in it, and judging by the restraints at his wrists and ankles, it hadn’t been voluntary.
He said something, sounding even angrier now, but Q couldn’t work out for the life of him what he was saying. The tie made a very effective gag.
“Raoul,” Q said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this really necessary?”
“I was just calming him down,” Raoul said, smiling. “I thought you always told us not to be too violent with one another?”
“You can’t possibly think this will help,” Q said. “He’ll just sit there and stew. That’s what he was doing the whole trip back, so I doubt he’ll stop now.”
“I suppose we’ll have to distract him, then,” Raoul said, and Q was stunned for a second, blinking at him.
“Excuse me?”
Raoul raised an eyebrow, and Q laughed, shaking his head.
“You’re joking.”
“Oh, no, I’m entirely serious,” Raoul said.
Q stared at him again. Somewhere off to his side, he heard James say something that, had it been coherent, would probably have been very rude.
“Raoul,” Q said warningly.
“Would you rather I continue to physically assault him?” Raoul asked, his voice the picture of innocence. “Because I could, you know. I have no qualms about striking a man tied to a chair.”
“I know,” Q said, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Sometimes he didn’t think there was enough patience in the world for this.
“What do you think, James?” Raoul asked, turning back to him, and James narrowed his eyes. “Oh, come now. Don’t give me that look. I explained myself to you several times and you still refused to listen. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and continue to let you have your little tantrum? Absolutely not.”
Raoul gave a sigh, and Q could almost believe the man was genuinely frustrated. It was a good act, a believable one, but Q had known Raoul long enough now that he didn’t miss the glitter of amusement in Raoul’s eyes as he turned to him.
“Coming to join me, Q?” he asked.
“I still think this is a highly convoluted way of going about teaching someone a lesson.”
“Maybe so, but at least the two of us will get a good time out of it,” Raoul said, beckoning Q closer. Despite his better judgment, Q closed the gap between them, and Raoul shifted slightly so he was sitting with a leg either side of Q. Q could feel James’s glare piercing his back. “I know it must seem unfair to leave James out of the fun this time, but you really can’t let people get away with themselves.” Raoul was fiddling with the lower buttons of Q’s shirt, unfastening them slowly. Q shivered slightly as Raoul’s fingers brushed his skin, teasingly light. “I’m sure he’ll learn his lesson much more quickly this way, don’t you? The best way to teach someone a lesson, I find, is to show them what they’re missing. It’s no good just telling them they can’t have something. A person can easily put the things they don’t have out of their minds, so long as they don’t have to confront it. But show them what they’re missing? Make them acknowledge what they don’t have, and they’ll learn very fast.”
It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Well, Q didn’t think so – there was never any way of telling how far Raoul would go, and up until this point he had demonstrated some limits. He had no idea if it would be that way now, when they had all the time in the world and a storm keeping everyone else busy right where they were. Q had told himself that he wouldn’t let himself be used in one of Raoul’s games again, that Raoul was perfectly capable of playing these games with people without using him as the middle man, but there was something in his self-control that vanished the second Raoul touched him, every single time he looked at Q with that smile that made Q feel like they were the only two people in the entire world in on the joke.
James had fallen stubbornly silent behind him, and Q felt a flicker of anxiety. Raoul always got the reaction he wanted out of people. When he was the medium being used to this purpose, and someone was being stubborn…
“You can sulk in your corner all you like, James,” Raoul said conversationally. He reached up and slid Q’s shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall down his arms and to the floor. Q shivered again, though it wasn’t any cooler with his shirt off. “I know you’re going to regret your behaviour earlier. I know how much you enjoy spending time with Q, and with me, for that matter. I think that makes it even better, don’t you? It’s always fun to make someone a little jealous, but I find some of the effect is lost when they don’t know what they’re really missing. But you know, don’t you, James? You can anticipate everything, and that is what will drive you mad.”
“I told you I wanted to stay out of this,” Q hissed at Raoul, who only laughed.
“I think it’s a little late for you now, don’t you think?” he asked, smiling up at him before letting his eyes move down Q’s body, across his chest and down over his stomach, lower still and then pausing, an eyebrow raised. Q felt his cheeks redden slightly; his trousers already felt a little tight, and Raoul had barely touched him.
“Anticipation really is the key, isn’t it?” Raoul asked, and before Q could comment, Raoul had grabbed him by the hips and swung him around, easily overbalancing him by tipping him over a knee. Q yelped, and seconds later Q found himself landing on the bed, Raoul now kneeling between his legs.
“Raoul –”
“Shush now, Q, we’re supposed to be making him jealous,” Raoul said, reaching down to Q’s trousers and making short work of the belt and button. Q twisted slightly as Raoul shuffled back off the bed, letting him pull his trousers down and tug them out of the way. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of James, stony-faced but staring determinedly at him. Raoul quickly blocked the view again and Q was glad; he could feel his cheeks growing hotter.
“Thank god you already took those hideous sandals off in the other room,” Raoul told him, and Q managed a glare.
“They’re not hideous, they’re perfectly practical for this weather—Raoul! It’s a little unfair to have me completely naked while the two of you still have all your clothes on.”
“I can guarantee one of us is going to remain that way,” Raoul said, looking very pleased with himself. “Come now, turn yourself around. I don’t want to block the view for the entire time.”
Times like this made Q wish he didn’t have such a tendency to blush. It wasn’t as though sex was a new thing for him – in fact, he thought of himself as rather experienced, though admittedly a chunk of that was down to Raoul – but there were exceptions to every rule. Twisting himself around so his head was at the foot of the bed, feeling James’s eyes on him and knowing that they could see everything… it was impossible to keep the heat from his face.
Raoul seemed to know what was going through his mind, because he took his time standing slightly to the side of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt incredibly slowly and taking an occasional moment to look at Q or James, his amusement growing each time. Q couldn’t quite see James from this angle – he would have to shuffle back and dangle his head off the end of the bed to see James, though he’d be upside-down – but he could feel the man seething. If he had thought it had been bad on the yacht, he really hadn’t known anything.
“Cheer up, James,” Raoul said, once he was finally done with his shirt. “At least you get a show. That’s more than most people get.”
“Who are you trying to torment here?” Q asked, narrowly avoiding the temptation to put his hands over his face. He knew that would just entertain Raoul further.
“Don’t worry, darling, you’ll be distracted soon enough.”
Q felt a flicker of warmth in the pit of his stomach, excitement and arousal all in one and he hated the way Raoul could do that to him, get him to respond with mere words, with only memories of what they’d done previously. He could barely keep himself from squirming slightly, beginning to grow impatient.
Raoul crawled back onto the bed, pushing Q’s knees apart, and Q let out a slow breath and tried to get used to the fact he was completely exposed to both of them. It wasn’t as though this was something they’d never seen before, though admittedly, the context had been slightly different.
“You could have at least taken your trousers off, too,” Q told Raoul, who shook his head, smiling.
“Patience,” he said. “Though, it’s nice to see you’re starting to enjoy yourself.”
Q would have happily continued to argue, if only to make a point, but Raoul took that opportunity to lean over him and dip his head down to Q’s neck, pressing kisses there that grew steadily rougher. As always, he knew exactly where to go for – the little spot just under Q’s ear, following the tendons down to the dip at his collarbone, leaving a trail of steadily darkening bruises behind him. Q could never work out if he enjoyed the sharp stings of pain or not; he would find himself twisting his fingers into Raoul’s hair, trying to pull him away, but the second Raoul did so Q would want him back again. He tried to resist falling into the pattern this time, but it was no use; within a couple of minutes Q’s fingers were clenched in Raoul’s hair, each increase of pressure at his neck pulling a sharp gasp from him.
Somewhere behind him, he heard James make a frustrated sound. The chair creaked softly as he shifted.
“Having fun, James?” Raoul asked, his lips so close to Q’s skin that he felt them brush against his collarbone as he spoke.
James responded with something that sounded very much like ‘fuck you’, and Raoul laughed, his breath warm and sudden enough that Q twitched slightly.
“My, my, someone’s grown sensitive,” Raoul murmured, and Q twitched again as he pressed a kiss to his collarbone, anticipating the sting that would surely follow. It didn’t, and Q felt his apprehension growing with every second he waited for it. It never came, and Q let out a whine of frustration as Raoul leaned back, looking down at him as though admiring his work. Q could feel the side of his neck stinging, and he knew he would be able to feel the marks for several days. He had quickly discovered that that was exactly how Raoul liked it.
Q found he was slightly breathless, sucking in air in short bursts that cut off quickly when Raoul traced a finger down towards Q’s stomach and then along his side, over his hip and upper thigh, infuriatingly light. Raoul let the touch linger for a moment before he placed his hand on Q’s hip and gave it a light squeeze, the sensation going right to Q’s cock now Raoul was that close. He still wasn’t touching him, because of course he bloody wasn’t.
“Over onto your front,” Raoul told him. “Let James see you properly, hmm?”
Q felt some of the redness returning to his cheeks, the rush of blood making the side of his neck sting even more. Raoul gave his hip another encouraging squeeze and Q forced his body to cooperate, rolling over onto his front and letting out a soft groan of frustration. He was far too sensitive; the feel of the bed pressing against his cock was somehow both too much and not enough at the same time. He propped himself up on his arms and turned to look at Raoul, who raised an eyebrow.
“No, no watching me,” he said. “Keep James company, yes? I’m sure he’s feeling left out.”
Left out wasn’t exactly what Q thought James’s primary feelings were right now. He didn’t think he had ever seen such a look on James’s face, his eyes flashing with something that was anger and hatred and resentment and jealousy all at once, but not at Q. No, Q spotted something else when James finally dragged his eyes away from glaring at Raoul to look at him instead; it was the same look Q had seen countless times before, that hungry, almost desperate look that darkened his eyes and caused Q to have to resist the urge to roll his hips against the bed.
“I wasn’t in on this, you know,” Q told him, squirming slightly as his discomfort began to grow too much to ignore. Somewhere behind him, Raoul laughed.
He could feel Raoul had moved away from him briefly; judging by the sound of him rummaging around in the bedside drawer, it was clear what he was doing. Even though they could only be half a dozen feet away at most, Q found himself growing slightly desperate, the empty air on his skin almost too much to bear. It was a relief when he felt Raoul move closer again, felt his body heat seconds before he reached out and tapped Q on the back of the leg.
“Up onto your knees, darling. Come on, now, I doubt you want to wait much longer.”
Briefly, Q thought about being embarrassed, but found he didn’t particularly care. James was still staring at him with that look, and it was making Q want to do all kinds of things. He pulled his knees under him and pushed himself up, still leaning on his arms, feeling almost delightfully inappropriate with his arse in the air like that. It was enough that he had to stifle a laugh, though he quickly forgot about the humorous element; Raoul let his hand trail from the small of his back and over his arse, slipping between his legs and pushing them a little further apart, before reaching even further forward and gently teasing Q’s cock, the touch barely enough to feel yet still enough to have Q gasping and trying to arch into it.
“Starting to remember now, aren’t you, James?” Raoul asked, his voice oddly conversational considering what he was doing. “He makes the most wonderful sounds, doesn’t he?”
Q had a split second to feel self-conscious before Raoul finally gave him some friction, causing him to let out a shuddering gasp of relief. James gave a grunt, and Q tried to work out if it was an agreement or a sign of frustration. It was probably both.
“A little further apart, Q, there we go,” Raoul told him, tapping at the inside of his thigh, and Q spread his legs without hesitation, no longer caring how exposed he was. He didn’t realise it was going to be such a turn-on, if he were honest; combined with the now deliberate strokes of Raoul’s hand, he was wondering if he would last long enough to see what else the man had in store. It seemed that Raoul had somehow followed his thoughts, though; with a final stroke of his hand, he moved away, leaving Q feeling open and empty and frustrated.
Breathless, he peeked up over his arms and glanced at James. The man looked visibly uncomfortable now, though he was doing his best not to show it. Q supposed he didn’t want to give Raoul the satisfaction just yet.
“This is going to be where it gets very frustrating, I’m sure,” Raoul said, and Q saw James’s eyes briefly flicker to the other man, narrowing slightly in annoyance. “I think it was probably easy to ignore up until this point, am I right? Quite simple to tune out if you have the right training, and I know you do. But our Q can be quite the distracting force when he wants to be, if you know what you’re doing.” Q heard the brief crack of a bottle lid opening, quickly followed by another as it was snapped closed. He let out his breath slowly, trying to relax, able to anticipate at least the next few minutes. “And,” Raoul added. Q heard the smile in his voice. “We know I do.”
Q knew all too well. He was trembling slightly by the time Raoul pressed a cool finger against him, wanting to close his eyes but at the same time finding himself unable to look away from the stare James was fixing him with. It took Q less effort than he thought it would, to keep eye contact with James as Raoul slowly slid a finger inside him; Q let everything show on his face and thoroughly enjoyed the way James twitched slightly. He was fairly sure he could hear the man’s breathing becoming heavy, but it was a little difficult to concentrate on something so precise when he had Raoul distracting him.
“Ah-ah, be patient,” Raoul said, amused, and Q hadn’t realised he’d pushed back against his hand, the movements far too slow for the state he was in now. He forced himself to stay as still as possible, but even with just one finger at work, Raoul was driving him crazy. He always knew the exact places to brush against, the right angle to curl his finger… it had taken him an impressively short time to understand how Q worked, which was what Q supposed made him so deadly during times like these.
Judging by the look on James’s face, Raoul understood how he worked, too. He was definitely breathing heavily now – Q could see it in the heave of his shoulders, and if he let his eyes travel further down he could see that James’s trousers would be more than just slightly uncomfortable now.
“Enjoying the view, James?” Raoul asked, also noticing. He twisted his finger slightly, suddenly, and enjoyed seeing the sensation travel the length of Q’s spine. “I’m sure it’s wonderful, but something tells me that it isn’t quite on the same level as the view I have.”
James said something that though muffled sounded undeniably angry.
“Oh, enough of that,” Raoul said dismissively. “Just think, if you learned to behave yourself, you could have joined us. Perhaps it will be food for thought the next time you decide to disobey orders, hmm?”
“With all due respect,” Q said, his voice slightly higher than it should be. “I didn’t disobey orders, so if you wouldn’t mind…?”
Raoul laughed. “Only for the nerve of that, darling.”
He withdrew his finger and for a moment the sensation was unbearable; Q struggled to hold his tongue and managed only by reminding himself that he could be in James’s position. Finally Raoul’s hand returned, two fingers sliding carefully into him now, gentle at first but quickly falling into a pattern, working him open. Q clenched his hands in the bedcovers and tried to hold himself up on legs that were beginning to shake; somewhere in his peripheral vision, James was shifting uncomfortably.
“Don’t be shy, Q,” Raoul reminded him. “Let James hear what he’s missing out on.”
Q had never naturally been loud in bed. He supposed it had been boarding school that had done it, trained him into keeping all private moments just that – completely private. Even when he had grown past fumbling around under the covers and graduated to pulling people into his room past lights out, there had still been that rule among them; nothing but the occasional gasp. Raoul and James had cured him of that habit, taking it as something of a personal challenge when they realised it was there. It never took much encouragement for Q to let go of that old barrier, and now was no exception.
“That’s better,” Raoul said, after drawing a particularly desperate moan from him. “What do you think, James?”
Q allowed himself a glance at him, and the sight of him combined with the particularly determined movement of Raoul’s fingers almost made him come right then. James looked practically wild, his eyes darting from Q to Raoul and finally settling on Q’s face when he realised he was watching. James was still shifting uncomfortably and another quick glance at the front of his trousers confirmed why. Q could see the skin on James’s wrists was red from twisting against the restraints.
“He’s a lovely sight, isn’t he?” Raoul asked Q. “Lucky us, getting to see him like this. I have to admit, there’s a part of me that rather enjoys when James decides to be disobedient. It’s worth it for this, don’t you think?”
Q had to agree.
“What do you think, James?” Raoul asked. “Do you think he’s ready now? It’s a shame you can’t come over here and check for yourself.”
Q let out a soft gasp as Raoul withdrew his fingers again, feeling suddenly empty and even more horribly exposed. He shifted slightly himself, tempted to reach a hand up and give himself some small thing to focus on, but he knew that it wouldn’t be worth it. Right now, Raoul was only focused on tormenting James. That could change, if Q didn’t behave.
He heard movement behind him as Raoul prepared, the sound of his belt as he quickly unfasted it, his zipper being pulled down. Q wanted to look just so he had some idea of how long he would have to wait for, but he knew that would be forbidden, too. He kept his eyes on James instead, seeing that his forehead was shining with the slightest sheen of sweat. It was almost impossible for Q to believe that it had been he who had done this to him, with Raoul’s help of course but when it came down to it, it was the sight of him that had driven James to this state. Q wasn’t sure how it made him feel, but he was enjoying it, whatever it was.
It was James who let him know the waiting was over; his eyes snapped up a split second before Q felt Raoul’s hands on his hips, both steadying him and holding him in place. Q kept his eyes on James as Raoul slowly entered him, deliberately taking his time, ensuring that every single slight change was registered on Q’s face. He was going deliberately slowly, Q thought. It was infuriating; he was used to the torment being over by the time they reached this point, the point where Q could safely bet that Raoul was going to pin him down and fuck him until he could barely breathe, but this time was different. Raoul took his time, letting Q feel him slowly filling him, making sure that James was aware of every second of it. By the time he finally paused to let Q adjust, Q thought James would cry with frustration, if he was that sort of person.
“I can see why you look so bothered, James,” Raoul said, his voice only slightly hitched. “He really does feel wonderful, doesn’t he? Or, maybe…” Raoul’s voice took on a slightly teasing edge. “You’re more jealous of him?”
Q wouldn’t blame him. He was shaking, his knees spread as far as he could force them, his hands gripping the bedcovers with strength he didn’t know he had. He ached to move his hips slightly, to arch up or push himself back just to create any change in the situation, but he held himself still. He didn’t think he had ever been so hard in his life. It was almost painful – he dreaded to think how James must feel.
And then, something wholly unexpected. Q had been preparing to endure Raoul’s teasing of James throughout the entire thing; he had grown resigned to the fact that Raoul would take his time and he would likely end up as collateral damage. Raoul didn’t do either. Rather, he turned his attention to Q completely, as though James wasn’t even in the room. Q hadn’t been expecting it in the slightest and for a long moment had no idea what to do; it was overwhelming when Raoul focused all of his attention on him even when he had been expecting it, but now it was something else entirely. Within seconds, Q was a gasping mess, only able to stay upright thanks to Raoul’s firm grip on his hips, holding him in place as he found that perfect rhythm. Q could hear he was speaking to him, murmuring things he could only just understand on the edge of his consciousness, but it was impossible to divert any of his attention away from how Raoul felt inside him, how every thrust caused the heat in the pit of his stomach to grow, spreading out until Q could barely feel his body at all. There was nothing but that heat and the points of contact – with the bed, with Raoul – and as he felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge he found himself completely forgetting James was there, too.
Raoul could always feel when he was close. He changed pace, fucking him faster, hitting that spot relentlessly now and within seconds Q cried out and came hard, barely registering that Raoul hadn’t even had to reach around and touch him. He gripped the bedcovers so hard he could barely feel his fingers, but Raoul didn’t let up once, fucking him through it until Q was a quivering wreck and only then did he turn his attention to himself, following Q over the edge with a low groan.
Q collapsed to the bed the second Raoul let go of him, shivers still sparking through him as he struggled to regain his thoughts. He only remembered James when he glanced up by chance and saw him, and immediately he felt his cheeks flush red again, realising that he had completely forgotten him, wondering just how much he had let himself go, what James had seen. Judging by the look on his face and the clear damp patch at the front of his trousers, it had been just what Q imagined. Q’s gaze fell on James’s eyes and James managed to hold it for only a split second before he closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose.
“Come on, now, James,” Raoul said, gently running a finger down Q’s spine. Q felt himself twitch slightly at every slight change of pressure. “No not looking now. What’s the point, hmm? You’ve already seen it all. Surely closing your eyes would only give you nothing else to distract yourself with?”
James reluctantly opened his eyes, following Raoul with his gaze as the man stood up and adjusted his clothing, before walking over to stand in front of him. Q watched the scene lazily, feeling warm and tired and perfectly content where he was.
“Can I trust you to behave now?” Raoul asked, and James gave a vague muffled response. Raoul reached out and tugged the tie away from his mouth. “What was that?”
“I said yes, for Christ’s sake!”
“You understand that should I decide to untie you, you must continue to behave yourself until I say otherwise?” Raoul asked, giving a pointed look at the front of James’s trousers. James glared up at him. “Well?”
“Just bloody untie me.”
“Manners, James.”
“Just bloody untie me, please.”
Q let out a soft laugh as Raoul reached down to unfasten the restraints at James’s ankles and wrists. Q had no idea how James didn’t just slump out of the seat; instead he quickly adjusted his trousers and then rubbed at the red marks on either wrist, still glaring though now at nothing in particular.
“I’m going to leave for a moment to find something for Q and I to clean up with,” Raoul said, taking a step back and looking down at James. “You will sit right here. I’m sure I will know if you move.”
James let out a huff.
“I won’t be long,” Raoul added, a slight note of amusement to his voice now. “It should go without saying, but just so we’re all clear – don’t you dare lay a finger on him.” Raoul looked at James for a moment, and then turned his gaze to Q. “That goes for both of you.”
Q gave a tired smile, and James continued to glare. Raoul crossed the room, and the second he had stepped through the door, James let out a growl of frustration.
“Bloody arsehole,” he said, and in the other room, they heard Raoul laugh.