Queen of Spades, by astolat (r)
May. 10th, 2011 10:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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het_reccersFandom Category: James Bond Movies
Pairing: M/James Bond
Fic Title: Queen of Spades
Author: Astolat
Link: http://intimations.org/fanfic/jamesbond/Queen%20of%20Spades.html
Rating/Warning(s): r, sex
Genre: post-movie
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: I am the first to say that this pairing was out there for me, but just read a few sentences and you'll be sold. Just gorgeous writing, with stunning dialogue that rings true to the snappy dialogue that existed between M and Bond. This fic has been recced to high heaven, and with good reason.
Seven years at the double-oh level now, and he was on the wrong side of all the odds, kills stacking up in his file like poker chips. In Rietzmann's dark hotel room, the job done, he'd jerked his gun back up at a deadly stranger with a spatter of blood on his cheek like a flower and his eyes flat and empty as a poured-out bowl, and pulled the trigger on shattering glass before he even realized that he was looking in the mirror. Perhaps he'd even wanted one of those little tugs on the leash, to remind him there was one, even if only by his own sufferance. But now she'd thrown him a gauntlet direct, and he could no more back down than he could fly.
He caught the next plane to Rio. The first night he slept on the beach; the rest of the week he slept in the seaside villa of the beautiful dark-eyed Selina, until her husband unexpectedly returned home and he had to drop out the window at 2 in the morning. He stopped in at the first club he found still open, smoky and full of tall, muscled men in black leather and tight jeans. Alexandro bought him a drink at the bar and took him back to a penthouse with a spectacular harbor view from the king-size bed where they wrestled pleasurably for position; at dawn James wrapped it up and took him, and spent that second week enjoying the spoils of victory.
He spotted the operative sent to find him instead of the other way around, and left a chiding note in the man's hotel room on his way to the airport. He sauntered into M's office tanned bronze and came around to the far side of her desk. "Did you miss me so badly, then?" he asked, heavy-lidded, his voice rough with two weeks of sex and sea-air.
She had been reading a file. She took off her glasses and set them on the desk and looked up at him. "Tell me something, 007. What sort of job do you think they hired female agents for in the service when I joined? Or did you think I was a secretary?"
"Why, M, should you kiss and tell like this?" he said, delighted, already taking off forty pounds and an equal measure of years to put her in an elaborate evening gown on the arm of some Eastern-bloc politician; it was as good as an invitation to cross any number of fresh lines. She had good cheekbones, if her face was a little round: he could envision her something of a charming gamine, he thought, with a slim neck and good breasts; too short to ever have had much in the way of legs, though. He leaned over her, offensively close, and murmured, "I'm sure you were irresistible."
She met his mocking gaze, very calm, her own eyes clear, and from one moment to the next, something changed. He couldn't have named it, beyond a collection of gestures: one eyebrow rising in a narrow elegant arch, a tilt to the corner of her mouth, her chin lifting towards him a little; inconsequential details that meant nothing, changed nothing, but the air between them went suddenly electric, as easily as though she had thrown a switch. He was leaning towards her before he realized it.
He clenched every muscle to halt his movement, a tremendous effort; she was smiling, faintly, and he wanted to close that space on a level beneath conscious thought. She left him pierced on the hook a straining, drawn-taut moment. Then she looked away and the spell abruptly broke; he was off the desk and two feet away, breathing hard.
She picked up her glasses and put them back on. Taking up the file again, she said, without looking up, "Now go away, 007. I'm busy."
Pairing: M/James Bond
Fic Title: Queen of Spades
Author: Astolat
Link: http://intimations.org/fanfic/jamesbond/Queen%20of%20Spades.html
Rating/Warning(s): r, sex
Genre: post-movie
WIP?: no
Why This Must Be Read: I am the first to say that this pairing was out there for me, but just read a few sentences and you'll be sold. Just gorgeous writing, with stunning dialogue that rings true to the snappy dialogue that existed between M and Bond. This fic has been recced to high heaven, and with good reason.
Seven years at the double-oh level now, and he was on the wrong side of all the odds, kills stacking up in his file like poker chips. In Rietzmann's dark hotel room, the job done, he'd jerked his gun back up at a deadly stranger with a spatter of blood on his cheek like a flower and his eyes flat and empty as a poured-out bowl, and pulled the trigger on shattering glass before he even realized that he was looking in the mirror. Perhaps he'd even wanted one of those little tugs on the leash, to remind him there was one, even if only by his own sufferance. But now she'd thrown him a gauntlet direct, and he could no more back down than he could fly.
He caught the next plane to Rio. The first night he slept on the beach; the rest of the week he slept in the seaside villa of the beautiful dark-eyed Selina, until her husband unexpectedly returned home and he had to drop out the window at 2 in the morning. He stopped in at the first club he found still open, smoky and full of tall, muscled men in black leather and tight jeans. Alexandro bought him a drink at the bar and took him back to a penthouse with a spectacular harbor view from the king-size bed where they wrestled pleasurably for position; at dawn James wrapped it up and took him, and spent that second week enjoying the spoils of victory.
He spotted the operative sent to find him instead of the other way around, and left a chiding note in the man's hotel room on his way to the airport. He sauntered into M's office tanned bronze and came around to the far side of her desk. "Did you miss me so badly, then?" he asked, heavy-lidded, his voice rough with two weeks of sex and sea-air.
She had been reading a file. She took off her glasses and set them on the desk and looked up at him. "Tell me something, 007. What sort of job do you think they hired female agents for in the service when I joined? Or did you think I was a secretary?"
"Why, M, should you kiss and tell like this?" he said, delighted, already taking off forty pounds and an equal measure of years to put her in an elaborate evening gown on the arm of some Eastern-bloc politician; it was as good as an invitation to cross any number of fresh lines. She had good cheekbones, if her face was a little round: he could envision her something of a charming gamine, he thought, with a slim neck and good breasts; too short to ever have had much in the way of legs, though. He leaned over her, offensively close, and murmured, "I'm sure you were irresistible."
She met his mocking gaze, very calm, her own eyes clear, and from one moment to the next, something changed. He couldn't have named it, beyond a collection of gestures: one eyebrow rising in a narrow elegant arch, a tilt to the corner of her mouth, her chin lifting towards him a little; inconsequential details that meant nothing, changed nothing, but the air between them went suddenly electric, as easily as though she had thrown a switch. He was leaning towards her before he realized it.
He clenched every muscle to halt his movement, a tremendous effort; she was smiling, faintly, and he wanted to close that space on a level beneath conscious thought. She left him pierced on the hook a straining, drawn-taut moment. Then she looked away and the spell abruptly broke; he was off the desk and two feet away, breathing hard.
She picked up her glasses and put them back on. Taking up the file again, she said, without looking up, "Now go away, 007. I'm busy."
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