Blind Scars

“Our first time…”

“But take comfort that it won’t be our last?”

Q huffed and tipped his head back in frustration. “It better not be, Bond. I hadn’t factored in blindfolds on our third date and not even permitted a glimpse of skin…”

“Admit it, you’re frightfully turned on,” Bond whispered, running the flat of his palms across his belly to glide upwards and catch his nipples. Q squirmed away from the touch, fumbling to catch the wandering limbs and grab his wrists.

“Guide me then. And, as agreed, if I guess correctly…”

Bond pivoted from his waist upwards to easily land a soft kiss on his throat. “Anything, Quartermaster.”

He reclined back against the pillows and brought Q’s fingers to his shoulder to trace along the scar there. Q shifted his hips and tried to concentrate on the feel of the bumps and… ridges…?

“Knife. Serrated edge…”

“Mmmm,” Bond murmured.

“A boning knife?” Q asked.

“Oh, you’re good, aren’t you?” Bond said, bringing his fingers to his lips. “There’s more where that came from, and we’re just getting started…”

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