Blind Scars III

“OF COURSE SHE DIDN’T! I would have hung her arse out to dry!”

Bond lifted his hands away from the blindfolded boffin in mock surrender. “It was a graze, Q. A mere flesh wound. Nothing major.”

Q looked around though he couldn’t see a thing through his blindfold. He folded his arms in a huff. “Hands, Bond?”

Bond bit back a smile. “Sorry,” he said, placing them once more on Q’s hips, chasing the goosebumps blossoming beneath calloused palms. He faltered. “What’s this?” Bond enquired, fingering the raised line across his lower back.

Q pitched his body down to seek out and engage the mouth that was doing too much talking. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” he breathed into him.

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