Bond's Return | By : francklyscarlett Category: G through L > James Bond Views: 4788 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the 007: James Bond movie series, nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie nor any of the
characters that this fanfiction is written for. I do
not make any money from the writing of this story.
Bond’s return
There
are two doors to the conference room; one is from the hallway, the other is from
M’s office. It was nearly eight o’clock
on Wednesday evening and M and the MI-6 section chiefs for Pakistan, India, and
Afghanistan
were just about finished with their weekly meeting. The final item on the agenda was the latest
news, or lack thereof, from Special Agent 007.
“He’s
gone to ground. The last we heard from
him was thirty eight days ago when our contact within al-Mewadi’s
group nearly missed the drop. 007 went
into the mountains and hasn’t been heard from since. We’ve
moved Elliott up and he’s got Bond’s old job with al-Mewadi’s
eldest son Ismail, and we’ve added four more assets
on the ground. The harvest starts in
about three weeks. We are ready even if 007
doesn’t manage to come back”, said the section chief from Afghanistan.
The
Section Chief for India, Lakshman, broke in. “I never trusted him not to do a bunk on us. M, he’s dangerous and this proves it. Time and again I told you I think he should b…”
M’s
fury with Lakshman was palpable. “Bond is completely trustworthy Mr. Lakshman. I’d stake
my life on it.”
“You
staked your job on it M”, he spat back and left the room.
She
snapped her folder shut and stood. “Keep
me apprised of all developments. Good
night.” She left the conference room and
the two section chiefs filed out of the conference room. M threw her folder on the desk and walked
over to the credenza, poured a drink, and stood by the window looking out over
the Thames.
She rolled her shoulders and head to relieve the tightness.
Where the hell are
you Bond? she wondered to herself.
“M?”
“Yes,
Moneypenny?”
“Your calendar for tomorrow is
on your desk. Your meeting with the PM
has been moved to ten
thirty so I rescheduled the rest of your day. Shall I have the car come round?”
“Yes,
in about 15 minutes. Thank you Moneypenny.”
“Anything
else?”
“Lakshman. Whose ear
does he have in the PM’s office?”
“The
PM’s diary secretary.”
“I
see.”
“Anything
else?” Moneypenny asked.
“Who has your ear, Moneypenny?”
“Just
you M.” She laughed but was serious.
“Ah. I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night.”
“Good
night, M”.
M
finished her drink, picked up her bags and coat and took the lift to the secure
carpark beneath the building. The ride to her home, a flat in Canary Wharf,
was mercifully brief.
“Good
evening ma’am”, the concierge greeted her.
“Good
evening Reynolds. How are you?”
“Well,
thank you. There are two parcels for
you.” He had corded the two boxes, one
from Turnbull and Asser and one from Amazon, together
and added a handle; he gave them to her and pushed the call button for the
private lift to her flat.
“Thank
you Reynolds. Good night.”
“Good
night.”
In
a minute, M was in her flat and walked to the living room.
“Hello
M.”
“Bond.” She was stunned to see him sitting on her
couch but her voice betrayed almost no surprise, although her stomach leapt at
the sight of him. She flung her bags and
boxes and coat on a chair opposite the sofa.
“You
weren’t in so I decided to wait.” Bond sipped
the drink in his hand, moved to the drinks cabinet and poured a scotch for M;
he handed it to her.
Her
eyes flashed with anger. “You have
thirty seconds.”
“Rurswaral has seen the light.” Bond held out his Blackberry for her.
“How
much?”
“It’s
worth about forty five million on the open market.”
She
walked to her study and Bond followed. M
unlocked a cabinet and retrieved her computer and powered it up. At a nod of her head, Bond typed a few
keystrokes on his Blackberry as M logged into her secure email at MI-6 and read
the files Bond sent. She smiled inwardly
and gave consideration to the fortuitous appearance of Bond and the completion
of his mission the night before her meeting with the Prime Minister. This
will take care of Lakshman, she thought. I’d
rather have Kishore running the India Section; she’s much more effective than
Lakshman.
She sent a mail with a brief message, “Initial analysis and debriefing
at 730.” In silence, M logged out and shut down her computer, picked up her
drink and returned to the living room with Bond by her side.
“Well
done.”
“Thank
you.” He sipped his drink and wandered
about the living room, a proprietary air about him.
“You’ve
been shopping I see”, said Bond. He separated
the boxes and shook the one from Amazon.
“Another cook book? When do you
have the time?”
“Bond,
the only reason I haven’t called Reynolds up here to send you packing is
because of your results. I told you
never to break into my house again.” She
glared at Bond who held her gaze.
“If
I were you, M, I’d have Reynolds and your security team fired. I avoided detection and penetrated your flat
and not a single alarm went off.” He
took another sip of his drink and sat on the sofa. “There’s no telling the mischief I could get
up to. Interesting hobby you have, collecting
cook books.” Bond could see her temper was rising close to dangerous levels but
sailed on, curious to find out how far he could push M.
“There
are cook books even in your bedroom.”
M
absorbed this bit of information; her collection of cook books filled shelves in
the kitchen and study; one was on her nightstand.
“I’ve
heard you’re thorough.”
“What’s
this?” he asked as he hefted the box from Turnbull and Asser.
There
was no answer from M. The air crackled
with tension but he resisted defining it.
“Not any of my business?”
Bond
put the Turnbull and Asser box back on the table.
Her
eyes darkened and her anger, which had been barely contained, dissipated and
was replaced with – what? “Your business
most certainly does not include breaking into and searching my home.”
M considered
the man seated on her sofa. He was young
and handsome in a cruel way; his body was well muscled and strong; and it had
been a long time since she had fucked a man Bond’s age. In just a few moments she reconsidered the probable
ramifications if what she was about to do was discovered. Donald was an extremely understanding and
forgiving husband but she would lose her job, the press would have a field day,
and the scandal could harm the agency for years to come. Of course, she would never talk, nor would
Bond; unless her bedroom was bugged, which she knew it wasn’t because it had
been swept earlier that day, no one would ever find out. Unless Bond bugged the room.
He
said nothing. Bond admired strong women
and M was the strongest he’d ever met.
The air about her changed. Bond
watched M and felt himself becoming aroused; he appreciated women in all their
forms and shapes, although his avowed preference was for younger women with
spectacular bodies and insatiable appetites for sex; M was older, considerably
older, than the women he usually bedded but her eyes were magnetic and drew him,
offering a promise of sexual satisfaction he’d find nowhere else.
Bond
couldn’t read her thoughts but he felt something change and the space between
them filled with heat and the silence lengthened while they studied each other,
aware of each other, feeling their own response to what had flared up between
them. Bond stood and walked over to
M. He took her drink from her hand and
placed it on the mantle next to his and leaned over her as if to speak into her
ear then clasped her shoulders and began kissing M before she could push him
back. She stiffened her knees against the
intensity of Bond’s kisses and the way he caressed her. When it was over, she said “I wonder if
you’re as good as you think you are. Or
even if you’re as good as your reputation” and led the way to her bedroom. Not for the last time that evening, Bond
followed.
M reveled
in the sight of James’s body, running her hands over the satiny smoothness of
him. My
God he’s gorgeous, she thought. She walked around him, enjoying his
nakedness, her hands caressing his body, lingering in the hollows and on the smooth
round cheeks of his ass, gliding over the smooth planes of his belly and hips
and slipping into the dimples at the bottom of his back. He tilted his head back and enjoyed her
touching him and when she took his erection in her hand, he lowered his head
and kissed her again, tasting the scotch on her lips and tongue.
In
M’s hands Bond’s cock swelled fully erect and the first drops of pre-cum
appeared at the tip. M brushed her
fingers along the crown and put them to her mouth and smiled at the taste of
him. Unhurriedly she removed her clothing and led Bond to her bed. Good
breasts, he thought, their weight and fullness filling his hands. He was aroused by her scent, a pungent blend
of desire and sweat and Chanel No. 5. M purred as Bond’s lips and tongue traced a
trail from her mouth to her breasts while he teased her nipples, pinching and
pulling them, rolling them between his fingers. He buried his face in the
abundance of her breasts, kissing and licking the pale skin; squeezing her
breasts together and sucking on her nipples making them stand up under his
ministrations; his cock and balls nestled against her pussy, the wetness
between her legs an invitation. He slid a hand from her breasts to the warm
cleft between her legs and pushed his fingers inside, making her arch with
pleasure, and the velvety wet walls gripped his hand. He watched her face change as he rubbed her
clit and pumped his fingers in and out until she moaned; she pulled his face to
hers and her dark blue eyes held his pale blue ones and then their mouths met
and the noises she made were swallowed in his throat as she came.
Bond
emitted an appreciative laugh as M lay next to him; she arched one eyebrow and
the ghost of a smile crossed her face. He
waited for the inevitable compliment to follow.
Bond
was stung by her silence but didn’t let her see. He removed his hand from her pussy and licked
his fingers. He shifted and moved lower
on the bed; M
watched the top of James’s head disappear between her legs and she felt him
kissing her thighs; her eyes closed as Bond began a delicious assault on her
body and senses. Christ. So fucking good, she
thought as his tongue lapped the sensitive flesh. Her scent of her arousal was stronger now,
filling his nostrils, the Chanel No. 5 made sharper and
headier.
M’s
phone rang. Shit. The secure phone to
MI-6. She rolled away from James,
breathed deeply twice and picked up the phone.
“Yes?”
Bond marveled at the even tone of her voice; she might have been interrupted
while knitting a bed jacket for an ancient maiden aunt.
“Bond’s
back.” It was Villiers.
“I
know. I read his first reports.”
Villiers said nothing.
“Call
me when it’s something I don’t already know”, M replied and hung up the phone.
From
the other side of M’s bed, Bond grinned at her but didn’t say a word.
M was
exasperated by the apparent incompetence of the MI-6 office staff and promised
herself she’d overhaul it but that was for tomorrow; for now Bond was a
distraction to which she willingly surrendered.
Parting
her legs, she drew Bond’s attention back to where he had been not two minutes
before. With a cocky smile on his face,
he began kissing her thighs, moving up to plump, wet lips of her pussy. Bond pushed her legs over his shoulders and licked
and sucked from M’s belly to her bush and to her ass and back. He took her clit between his lips and began
to suck, increasing the pressure, hearing her sharp intake of breath and added the threat of his teeth, nibbling and
biting the swollen and sensitive flesh. M
gripped his head and pushed harder against his face, increasing the pressure of
his mouth; the pain of his biting teeth grew, then blossomed into pleasure that
waved through her body and she writhed, gasping on the bed. Bond laughed and bit and sucked harder still,
his hands beneath her, fingers sliding between the cleft of her cheeks until he
came to the tight puckered opening of her ass and slid a finger partway
inside. The sensation of Bond’s tongue
in her pussy and his finger in her ass made M tighten her legs about his head and
her orgasm swept through her, leaving her limp and gasping and with a fine
sheen of perspiration all over her body.
Bond
raised his head, his face shiny with her cum and moved up the bed until his
face was next to hers. She opened her mouth to him and his tongue met hers,
filling her mouth with the taste of her.
She reached down and caressed his cock and balls, tightening her grasp
until he gasped; M smiled as Bond squirmed in her grasp. In a flash he was on his back, legs spread
wide and M on her knees licking his cock and stroking his balls. The pleasure of M’s tongue and lips made him
twist on the bed and moan softly. The
tip of her tongue made a circle around his cockhead
while her fingers massaged his shaft and balls.
She slid her lips up and down the length of his erection, feeling the
vein on the underside throbbing against her tongue. Pre-cum escaped from the knob and tasted
salty on her tongue but she licked and swallowed greedily, the length of him
sliding down her throat. He’d never been
so deep in anyone’s throat; M swallowed his cock and had his balls between her
lips when he felt his balls tighten and his muscles clench, his orgasm just
seconds away; his thighs closed around her head. M swirled her tongue around Bond’s fat cock
as she raised her head up; he was nearly out of her mouth but she kept the knob
between her lips as one hand massaged his balls and the other snaked beneath
his body to stroke the cleft between his ass cheeks. “Oh Christ, M, I’m gonna
cum”, he said. “Suck me harder.” He
gripped her head between his thighs. M
sucked Bond, her throat opening and closing around his fat cock and he moaned
loudly. Bond was so close to cumming, his body moving so quickly his cock jammed in M’s
throat. “Oh fuck. Yes. Suck me. Let me cum in your mouth. Suck me M.
Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck.”
M pulled
back and heard him gasp as his cock waved freely in the air. He raised his head and hands, searching for
her.
“You
bitch” he hissed. His powerful arms
pulled her up and he flipped her on her back.
M laughed as Bond rolled on top of her and they groaned in unison as
Bond’s thick, fat cock filled M’s waiting pussy and she wrapped her legs around
his waist; he crushed her breasts in his hands, stroking her nipples and
sucking on them; the tight, puckered flesh quivered at his touch and M moaned
with pleasure.
“Fuck
me Bond”, she commanded.
Bond
raised his hips and pushed deeper into M’s body and felt the walls of her pussy
begin to clench around him. Harder and
faster he pushed in and out of her welcoming body and his cock seemed to grow
longer and fatter with every thrust. M’s
fingers dug into his waist and hips; they came together, bodies clashing,
mouths seeking each other. The words and
noises they made were silenced as their mouths met. M’s orgasm began as a spot of burning white
heat as she clenched Bond deeply inside her and she moaned out loud as Bond
thrust harder and harder and faster until their bodies shuddered with a mutual
orgasm and his cum filled M’s pussy that gripped his cock and milked him dry.
Sweaty
and panting, Bond and M rolled apart but lay side by side, their bodies cooling
off. Bond rose, opened a window, and
left the room. He returned a minute
later as M was donning her blue silk robe; he handed M her scotch.
“Where
did you learn to suck a man’s cock and balls into your mouth at the same time?”
M
smiled ruefully. “The things one does
for Queen and country, Bond.”
“And
the tattoo?”
M’s
hand went to her left arm where a navy blue bar, embellished with scrollwork,
marched across her shoulder. “1974. I was running an operation
to get an East German scientist out to the West. Spiegel, a sadistic bastard, was the general
running the science installation. He had
a penchant for marking his women with his “brand”. It was nearly impossible then to remove
tattoos, so I just covered it up.” She
looked up at him. “Then I left the field and came inside.”
She
swallowed the last of her drink. M
turned away from Bond and walked to the window, looking out over the city.
“You
should go now. Be in my office tomorrow
at 7.30.”
Bond
dressed and as he left M’s bedroom, said “Good night, M.”
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