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He had the ink.
Transparent vials of black, red and beautiful, gleaming gold. He had the file with the runes.
A rune to go upon the sternum to increase stamina; a string of runes to run down the spine, delicate weave between the shoulder blades, to help fight through injuries; a few mirrored pairs for the inner thighs, to provoke lust in others; a pair matching ones to be cradled under hipbones, to shorten recovery time.
Q couldn’t write them upon himself. He lacked the skill, the steady hand for the brush.
His thoughts, inevitably, steered to Double-Oh-Six.
Alec.
Alec, who could draw. He learned calligraphy while on some forgotten mission abroad.
Alec, who had left MI6 with a big ‘fuck-off’ after Olivia had died.
Alec was the most ill-advised affair of Q’s entire life.
Q had no idea about Bond’s whereabouts these days.
But Alec – Alec never hid from him. He was and had always been one phone call away. Q just needed to – dare.
The ink and the brushes were the temptation upon his eyes, golden gleaming in the low light of his bedroom.
Q resisted for a week. Then his hand reached for the phone.
***
Alec listened to him talk – quietly. Patiently.
He leafed through the file, his fingers stroking the lines and swirls of glyphs, reverence in every brush of fingertips.
He looked up at Q. Licked his lips.
“I can do it. Only – I need you fully waxed, you understand that?”
“I don’t need them all at once. I need a clean test; a pair at a time should be optimal.”
Alec looked… disappointed.
Q did not allow himself to dwell on that.
“I did the chest,” he continued. “I have a stripe of wax to run along the spine, if you’ll help me.”
Alec sent him a brief, sharp smile.
He cleaned Q’s freshly waxed skin with soap and wiped it with lemon juice. When he was done, he leaned to his ear.
“Lie down. Keep still.”
The cool touch of a brush on warm, smooth skin made him shiver – just so. Not enough to disturb Alec’s work, but enough to earn one quick, sharp grin from the man. Alec’s strokes were sure and precise, with each line flowing smoothly against Q’s breastbone.
He underlined the glyph with a final, delicate stroke and sat back on his heels, studying his work, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
“You’re beautiful. Ink suits you.”
“Cut it, Alec,” Q grumbled with a soft scoff.
“Can’t do,” Alec put the brush aside and loomed over, blowing the gentle stream of air over the rune.
Q felt it – down to the tips of his toes. He made a strained sound and shuddered.
“Turn over,” Alec commanded, his hand already on Q’s hip, encouraging the turn.
More ink upon his skin, silky smooth and hot with recent abuse.
As soon as Alec pronounced the ink dry, Q sat up. Watched as Alec tidied up the supplies. Waited, unwilling to admit to the act.
“You need to test alleviating the pain and increased stamina, pup,” Alec told him, teasing.
“Oh, no. You’re horrible.”
Alec grinned at him. His eyes gleamed like a predator fixed on prey he’d already injured. Just waiting for it to die before devouring. Savouring the wait.
“I need to be paid for the services, don’t I?”
Q scowled. “And you want me to pay with my body?”
“With my canvas, yes,” Alec corrected, brushing the fingertip along the line of ink of Q’s sternum. “I have a claim on it now.”
Without waiting for another retort, Alec bowed his head and sucked Q’s nipple into his mouth, hard enough to make Q’s jolt – with anticipation of pain.
Only, the pain didn’t come. The sudden wave of heat, the wave of pleasure going through Q wasn’t entirely normal.
He gasped, shoving at Alec’s shoulder – but the former agent didn’t budge. Alec flicked his tongue against the nub and reached to brush a knuckle between Q’s shoulder blades – and Q felt heat there, too.
He was helplessly hard and confused.
He cried out, clutching at Alec’s hair.
Alec lifted his head, smirking at him with wet lips – a cruel god admiring his creation.
"See?" Alec purred. "Already working beautifully."
“Hate you. Get the fuck out.”
Alec argued no more, scrambling off the bed and backing out with a jaunty bow. Q threw a pillow after him and collapsed back on the mattress, putting another pillow over his face with a frustrated growl.
***
It actually worked quite well. It didn’t remove pain fully, but dulled it by a good half. It increased the stamina like having a second heart would.
Q couldn’t stop musing about that strange rush of pleasure he experienced when Alec laid his mouth on him.
It didn’t happen again.
It didn’t help compartmentalisation either.
Q told himself he was ready to start testing the next set of runes. Due to the nature of runes, he had no illusion about his motivation. He knew he was preparing to fuck Alec Trevelyan.
And worse still – he knew Alec was waiting for Q to return to him.
***
They didn’t speak much that evening.
Alec was preparing his instruments, uncapping the vials of red and gold ink and lining up the brushes.
Q sat on the edge of the bed, naked under his loose robe, tingling with a strange anticipation.
“Those are supposed to evoke lust in me,” Alec remarked. “How are you going to measure it?”
“I believe you’re still capable of a decent after-action report,” Q answered to Alec’s sharp smile.
“We shall see,” Alec conceded as he slid his hands under the hems of Q’s robe, brushing the fabric off Q’s shoulders.
“On your back, lovely,” he murmured. “Knees apart, as wide as they go.”
Q took the position without a word.
Alec's gaze swept over his bareness – without lust. Without surprise. He looked down at Q’s fair, smooth, perfectly hairless skin like it was something that already belonged to him.
Q’s treacherous body reacted with aching want.
“There, there. Not that fast,” Alec chuckled – without goading Q for his intemperance. “I need you to keep still.”
He wetted a cloth with lemon juice and passed it over the skin of Q’s inner thighs, his canvas for today.
“Never seen you fully waxed. Looks pretty.”
“Not my preference. Will itch like hell in two days.”
Alec chuckled and carried on with his task. Every so often, his thumb drifted higher than necessary and brushed the crease of Q’s thigh.
Every time, Q's breath hitched.
The cloth moved across his stomach – from the rune still sitting against his breastbone and down until the heel of Alec’s palm touched the base of Q’s cock.
“Alec? Not part of the plan.”
“Yes, well. Tell me, Harper, what is the gold ink for?”
“Um, for custom… things,” Q mumbled. “No fixed spell structure.”
“Thought so. Someone who got you those fancied you quite a bit.”
“It’s not beyond the,” Q swallowed hard, “realm of possibility.”
“I thought,” Alec said, retrieving a brush, “you might allow me to play a bit. If I’m good.”
“You're never good, Alec.”
Alec hummed, putting a tip of the brush between his lips and wetting it.
“Persuasive, then,” he amended once his mouth was free while dipping the brush into the red ink.
Q felt incrementally heating up. He was well acquainted with methods of Alec’s… persuasion.
“We’ll see.”
“Swell,” Alec grinned as he put a proprietary hand on Q’s knee and began.
Delicate loops, sure strokes, every touch of cool ink like fire on silk.
In his concentration, Alec leaned in closer to keep his lines precise. His breath was ghosting over Q’s cock. The treacherous part swelled and swelled until it lay on Q’s belly fully erect.
Q twitched and balled the duvet in his fingers. The sound tore itself from within his throat.
“Keep still,” Alec murmured. “We don’t want it to smear.”
Q tried his damnedest, focusing not on the resplendent glide of ink sealed into his skin but on following the patterns Alec made, the language he was being written in.
It was a relief when Alec sat back and admired his work.
“Feel anything?” Q questioned, curious, his voice a little hoarse. He cautiously raised himself on one elbow to have a view of Alec’s groin. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Oh yeah,” Alec grinned, never one for shyness. “Certainly not natural. Lie back and stay. It’s still wet.”
With Q easily doing as he was told, Alec smiled and brushed a thumb over the edge of the vial with golden ink. Gazed down at Q, spread out before him with legs wide open, considering him not like the object of lust but like his canvas. Slow and thoughtful.
What could I make of you?
Watching him watch, Q was curious, too. He couldn’t help but respond to the attention – of not a lover, but a disciple.
“Have something in mind?” Q asked in a soft voice.
“For you? Always.”
“Go on, then. You can do it.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Alec’s eyes were full of something too complicated and scary to name. Not lust, love or triumph. Something close to devotion.
He smiled and bowed, touching lips to the arches of Q’s ribs.
“Do you want me to remove this one?” Alec asked as his fingers touched the black rune in the middle of Q’s chest.
“No, I want you to leave it.”
The movements of the brush over Q’s skin were lighter this time around. It was not restraint but agility that came with the free flow of Alec’s imagination, not his focus. Pure instinct pressed into Q.
Q lay back against the pillows, thighs parted to fit Alec’s form between them. His body relaxed yet buzzing with arousal, Q gazed down at Alec - fully in his craft, lips slightly parting around the whispered words and hair that fell over his forehead.
Q felt the tingle – brush and ink, lower and lower and lower – a circle of full moon around his belly button and then – a pause.
Their eyes met.
“Need to touch you there. To press aside.”
Q lifted his brows. Alec wasn’t in the habit of asking. He just acted and faced the consequences later.
He behaved as if it was something else. Not to play around with. Sacred.
Q gave the tiniest nod.
Alec smiled. Touched his hip first, and moved this touch down to gently, gently press Q’s hard, hot cock aside.
Held it there, cradled in the crook of his fingers, calloused yet soft. Reached to dip the brush one last time and laid down the final symbol on the golden path that began beneath the black rune at Q’s sternum and ended just above the base of his cock.
Alec inspected his work. The gleaming gold against the flushed pink of Q’s chest and belly. Created by him and not to be removed by anyone but him.
The droplet of liquid beaded on the tip of Q’s cock. Alec swiped it with his thumb, absent-minded – and Q choked on a laugh around Alec’s name.
“Sorry, love. You’re gorgeous.”
“Alec,” Q said pointedly.
“Yeah,” a beat. “May I?”
Mouth poised. Eyes intent.
Q nodded his permission, and Alec took him in his mouth. Just the tip, suckling, gathering all the liquid seeping from the tiny opening. Dipped the tip of his tongue inside, just so. Q’s hand flew to get a hold of soft strands of hair.
“Knees over my shoulders,” Alec murmured without pulling away.
Q did as he was told. Strong hands slid under him, fingers kneading the flesh of Q's cheeks – long practised motion, the one that had Q swiftly losing all the remains of his composure. One opportunistic thumb pushed against the rim of Q’s entrance – and Alec paused, sending Q one wide, devious smile.
“Well,” he drawled. “Someone’s prepared. Still like to walk around with a little something inside?”
Q didn’t answer – didn’t need to. Just glared.
Alec sent him a beautiful, impertinent smile and leaned in again.
His thumb slipped in further – just past the first ring, just holding the muscle open as Alec licked around it.
Q moaned weakly, petting Alec’s hair.
Pulling at it while Alec stopped again .
“Yes, yes,” Alec chuckled against his wet-hot skin. “The ink’s still wet, pup. Take yourself in hand, alright?”
Just as Q obeyed, Alec started eating him out in earnest, thrusting a thumb inside, then replacing it with his tongue, forcing inhuman sounds out of Q. Adding the second thumb – god help him – making Q arch on the bed from sudden stretch.
It was good. Exactly as good as he expected from Alec. Overwhelming.
He didn’t try to hold off.
As orgasm shook through him, body bowing off the bed against and a harsh cry escaping his lips, Q caught his release into his fist with a tingle of instinctive, deep-rooted shame.
Before the aftershock even passed, Alec caught his wrist and brought it to his lips, licking it clean – palm and every finger up to the fingertips.
Like Q was an offering on his altar.
“Now, lovely,” Alec purred. “On your elbows and knees.”
***
It had been two weeks.
Two weeks of a fight between pride and frustration.
Q couldn’t come.
Not with his hand. Not with someone else’s.
Q had a theory about what was the reason for this predicament.
Alec.
Or rather, his handiwork.
Q shouldn’t have let him do that. Even though it had earned him three bone-shaking orgasms in a row – those custom runes were quite something. One evoked a feeling of phantom hands wandering over Q’s body, another made him numb – just so orgasm would feel like a flash of light, blinding and maddening; extraordinary.
Dooming.
Right now, after another desperate and entirely unsuccessful attempt, Q gave up and called the bastard.
“What did you do ?” Q demanded as soon as Alec deigned to answer his damn phone – his voice colder than ice.
“Morning, love,” Alec chirped.
Having no patience for his shit, Q growled.
“Uh oh,” Alec said innocently. “Is there something wrong with runes?”
Q’s blood boiled.
“I can’t come. At all. For two weeks straight. It’s the only quick way I can relax. Do you understand the damage you’ve inflicted?”
Alec laughed. Actually laughed like some kind of evil, capricious god.
I will kill him , Q thought.
“Poor thing,” Trevelyan crooned. “Want me to fix it for you?”
“Yes. Get your useless arse here right now. ”
A pause. “You mean it?”
Why on earth did this idiot sound so uncertain now ?
“I swear to all the made-up gods, if you don’t show up in an hour, I will find you, incapacitate you and put the rune that will make you come every time you call somebody “love” on your cock .”
“Well. Now I’m hard,” Alec chuckled.
“That’s not the point ,” Q growled.
“Alright, calm down. I’m on my way,” Alec promised, a laugh still in his voice.
“You better be,” Q ground into the phone before disconnecting the call. He restrained from sending the item flying across the room, but just barely.
***
Alec arrived forty minutes later. Of course, the bastard didn’t look like he was hurrying to get to Q’s place.
Opening the door in nothing but the soft and loose pajama pants (everything underneath them hurting), Q glared and stepped aside without a word.
Alec didn’t smirk. Not until the door was safely shut after him. Then he shook a narrow black box he held in his hand.
“No amount of expensive chocolates will save you, Trevelyan,” Q rasped. The hoarseness of his voice managed to startle even him.
“Wait until you have one or two after you finally have your orgasm,” Alec smirked, walking past Q into the kitchen – not quite like he owned the place, but with the comfortable casualness of an old lover. It was disconcerting to witness.
Q fended off the thought and trailed after the man.
“You knew it might happen,” he accused Alec’s back.
“Did you not?” Alec glanced up at him from where he was washing his hands in a kitchen sink, his sleeves rolled up. “That’s the problem with custom stuff.”
“I hoped you would be gracious enough not to install the magical throttle on my body out of your damn possessiveness!” Q stared at him, aghast. “I understand it’s my own stupidity to believe you’d act decent.” He added out of sheer pettiness.
Alec dried his hands. Whipped around. Prowled across the kitchen until they were chest to chest.
His hand came up to take a painful grip on Q’s jaw. “Tell me you want them off.”
Q opened his mouth. Closed it.
He couldn’t. Because it developed into his own damn kink – the thrill of walking around with the gold runes hidden under his clothes. The pleasure of looking into the mirror to see himself marked and claimed.
“Thought so,” Alec said when Q failed to answer in any way besides the stupid flapping of his mouth. “I have an idea how to fix this,” he murmured, voice infinitesimally softer as he looked down between them.
As Alec stroked the curled finger along the runes, Q’s skin lit up. He gasped and caught Alec’s wrist, stilling him.
Alec sent him a quick, devious smile. “I promise it’ll be quick. And out of the way, so you can field-test it immediately.”
“Only by half,” Q groused, even as he let Alec direct him with gentle hands – turning him around and nudging him to the edge of the kitchen island. “Unless you brought a company who can jerk me off real quick.”
“Afraid not. Sorry, love. Couldn’t bring myself to share,” for once, Alec sounded sincere in his apology.
He began to ready his workplace on the counter beside Q. Q tried to assist – only for his hand to be slapped away, albeit gently.
Finally, Alec hooked his thumbs over the waistband of Q’s pants and tugged them just low enough to expose the small of his back. He cleaned the skin. Dipped the brush. Lowered himself on his knees and started a wide, intricate form.
“Poser,” Q muttered while all he wanted was to moan.
“You wear it too well. Can’t resist making it pretty,” Alec murmured with a smile in his voice.
For ten minutes straight, it was only silence and their joined breathing – Q’s laboured one as he fought his stupid arousal, and Alec’s measured and purposely deep.
Finally, Alec blew a gentle stream of air over the new wetness of ink and stood up with a soft, only partly suppressed groan.
“Should’ve asked me for something soft under those knees, old man,” Q commented with helpless fondness.
“I’ll live,” Alec reassured. “Should work now.”
***
It worked as it should.
No orgasm impediment.
Only – Q found himself entirely unwilling to expose his body with Alec’s work written upon it to anybody else's eyes.
Stupid.
He should’ve seen this coming.
***
“I need you to wash them away,” Q said as soon as Alec answered his call, without much preamble.
“...If you need me, I will,” the answer, albeit being almost immediate, lacked conviction.
Ah. At least Q wasn’t the only idiot in this equation.
He let the silence be for several beats.
“I won’t decline if you want to try another, more comprehensive design. For decorative purposes,” was what he said to break the silence that got too heavy to bear.
A sharp intake of breath.
“You won’t?”
“No.”
“We’ll need a full day for it.”
“I happen to have one. Sunday.”
“I’ll be there.”
***
They hadn’t coordinated a time.
Alec knew to let Q sleep in, turning up only by noon.
Q met him at the door. Alec pressed a paper cup of London Fog in his hands and placed a kiss on his forehead.
“You look rested,” he praised. “If you take the bag from me, I’ll run a bath.”
Q allowed the transfer of a hefty shopper. “You didn’t have to spoil me, you know,” he mumbled, nonetheless pleased by the offering.
The drink was from the tea place, which was one, out of the way for Q to indulge often, and two, way too hipster for Q to feel comfortable. But the assortment of milky tea they made was nothing short of amazing.
He took a sip. Closed his eyes, savouring the taste. “Where shall I put it?”
“Bedroom.”
“Not very chatty, are you?” Q commented, amused as he moved to pop into the bedroom and carefully place the bag at the top of the dresser.
After that, he shuffled towards the bathroom and stood in the doorway, sipping at his tea with quiet delight and looking at how Alec mixed Q’s bath concoction with secret fondness.
Alec no doubt felt Q’s stare. But he only turned in his own time, peeling off his jumper and tee in one motion.
“Climb in. Want to steam you up a bit so I won’t accidentally scrape you raw.”
“Oh, come on. You can make your own ink to comply,” Q groused but shook off his robe and padded inside the room, ignoring Alec’s roaming, appreciative eyes.
“I’m flattered by your faith in me,” Alec returned, offering a hand to help Q step over the edge.
The water was just on the edge of too hot, and Q hissed as he sank into it until he was half-lying. How Alec managed to hit the temperature perfectly every time, Q did not know.
The man himself didn’t leave his spot; he only got more comfortable – one forearm braced along the edge of the tub, Alec had another hand dipped into the water, tips of his fingers just shy of Q’s stomach.
He pulled back to turn off the water once it got to Q’s chest and took away the empty takeaway cup from him. Then he returned his hand to the water, but this time touching, his thumb rubbing at the golden glyph in an idle but not absentminded gesture.
It seemed that Sunday was to be about long, loaded silences. Q couldn’t say he minded as long as the stillness stayed soft.
Q allowed himself another treat and reached to thread his fingers through the short hair at the back of Alec’s head. Alec hummed, leaning into the caress briefly.
It didn’t take long at all for the ink to start shifting under Alec’s slow caress – the gold on Q’s skin slowly curling into the water and floating there like a thread of sunlight inside a kaleidoscope.
“Well. It’s more cooperative than I thought,” Alec chuckled and reached for a loofah to lather it up. He began working the ink away, first from Q’s chest with methodical circles down his ribs and over to his back. After rinsing the suds, he drained the water and twisted the tap, refilling the bath with clean water and meeting Q’s eyes.
Q grinned. “Why are you looking at me like that? Go on.”
He shifted, sinking lower and parting his legs wide enough so Alec could reach the glyphs on his inner thighs.
“Menace,” Alec commented, bowing over the edge to reach better.
There, he worked a bit rougher – or it felt that way because the skin was thinner and more sensitive - but it was a delicious feeling.
The swelling of Q’s cock wasn’t a surprise for either of them.
“Mmm. Hello,” Alec murmured, palming at Q’s length only to shift it aside gently and start working away the runes at his groin and lower belly.
By the time he looked up again, they were nose to nose.
Q smiled – and caught Alec’s lips with his, his wet fingers curling over the nape of Alec’s neck.
Alec licked at his mouth, coaxing Q into turning the kiss wet and filthy, and Q groaned, biting at the bow of Alec’s upper lip in retaliation. As Alec tried to lean away, Q chased his lips, not giving him half a chance to escape.
Alec allowed the disobedience to last for a few moments longer before catching Q’s chin and pushing him back forcefully.
“No. Wait for it, pup. Don’t play with me.”
Q smirked at him, and Alec gave him a grin of his own. “Climb out,” he commanded as he stood.
He held a towel for Q to step into and dried him off. Every time Q attempted to help, Alec batted him away.
“Want to see the ink I brought?” Alec asked against his ear.
“Is there something special about it?”
“Of course.”
“Show me, then.”
Alec left the towel there on the floor and led Q to the bedroom, one hand heavy on the small of his back. There, Alec guided him to the bed and went to the shopper, returning with the ink – glimmering silver, like mercury or the fog caught in a jar. Rich indigo, like midnight. Dark purple, like a bruise.
Q extended his hand, and Alec placed the vials into the open palm for inspection, one by one. Q had never seen colours like this. So bright and so dark at the same time.
“Those are pretty, Alec,” Q whispered with wonder in his voice.
“So are you,” Alec grinned at him. “Come on. On your front.”
Q twisted and stretched atop the covers. He wanted to fold one forearm under his chin, but Alec caught his wrist and tugged it down.
“I need you prone.”
Q allowed himself to be manhandled and was awarded with a kiss between his shoulder blades. Alec’s hands followed after, roaming the expanse of his skin, mapping the canvas out - the action accompanied by a soft mumble of Russian.
As Q began to get a bit restless and squirmed a little, Alec pressed an open palm to the small of his back with a soothing murmur. “I’m going to start. Want to walk around a bit?”
“Not really. Want you to do something.”
The brush was a whisper against his skin. It moved in a rhythm Q couldn’t quite catch - up from the fanciful design on the small of his back that Alec left intact, two rows of symbols untwined along his back, all the way up to the hairline and back down bowed over shoulder blades – like wings or an arch of a harp.
Lulled by Alec’s flawless steadiness, Q fell into the liminal space between slumber and reality and only emerged when he heard Alec’s voice calling his name insistently – like he had been doing it for quite some time.
“Harp. Harper. Silly creature.”
Q blinked rapidly until his eyes somewhat focused on Alec. “’m here. Sorry.”
“No hard feelings. I take it as a compliment,” Alec replied and stroked his flank. “Turn around?”
Q turned onto his back.
Alec shifted his arms so they lay stretched perpendicular to his body, palms up, like he was a cross – on someone сrucified on one.
Q hummed but didn’t protest, his curiosity piqued.
Alec took the indigo and began at Q’s right wrist, slowly – along the forearm, across the shoulder, through the bridge of the collarbones and onto his left arm and down until he reached the left wrist, sealing the symmetry.
The next line – on his chest.
Alec’s mouth was mumbling words, nearly soundless.
Q felt it move through him.
Down, down, down, until the last word was cradled between Q’s hipbones – the one Q could see just by flicking his eyes down.
The word was amen.
Q stared at it.
“You put a prayer on me?” Q asked – not scandalised, but a little bit incredulous.
“Not quite a prayer. Scripture.”
Alec smiled down at Q with a shadow of mischief, eyes roaming over his creation.
“Are you satisfied with the result?” Q asked.
He knew that for all his peacockery, Alec was his own harshest critic .
“I think I am,” Alec nodded after a thoughtful pause.
Q turned his head and raised his right arm – careful, just a bit, to glimpse the sharp letters:
...If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels…
He mirrored the motion with his left.
...I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal...
Q grinned at Alec, who stood there, so uncharacteristically sheepish.
He didn’t say anything. Alec didn’t, either, instead turning his attention to tidying up the space and materials.
Q observed him, still stretched like a cross, unguarded yet strangely peaceful.
“How long will it stay?”
Alec didn’t look up from where he was laying out cloths and brushes to dry. “As long as I want it to.”
Q hummed. He liked it.
Finally, Alec came to him and offered both his hands. “Want to see?”
“Yes,” Q smiled, taking hold of Alec’s hands and rising to stand on the edge of the mattress. Alec touched a thumb to the ink low on his belly and placed a kiss against Q’s ribs.
“Go on.”
Q stepped down from the bed and padded to the mirror.
He threw his arms wide open. Turned around once. Twice. Thrice.
Turned back and went to stand chest-to-chest with Alec. Cradled his face between his hands. Kissed the corners of his mouth, slow and tender. Bit his bottom lip.
“Do you want to tell me something, Alec?” He asked, teasing but not joking.
Trevelyan just grinned and pressed his forehead against Q’s, his hands slipping to the small of his back.
“No, I don’t. Besides the obvious, of course.”
“Which is?”
“That you’re beautiful, and I think we need to indulge in the sweet act of blasphemy.”
Q barked a laugh.
“And then,” Alec continued, encouraged, starting to mouth along Q’s jaw. “You should think about allowing me to take you to dinner.”