A Gun & A Radio

The gun hung loosely by his side, grip barely there. His free hand glanced along the sleeve of the suit, its wearer’s hand resting gently on Q’s hip.

“No one knows where I live,” Q breathed the words against his cheek. “I demand to know how you found me. I know I wasn’t followed.”

Bond said nothing, instead answering with a move of his hand into the pocket of Q’s cardigan.

Q looked down. “You said you’d lost that, lying bastard…”

“You promised me a reward if I brought everything back. And we know it’s… fully functional,” Bond’s lips lightly caressing his jawline. “I’m here to collect.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *