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Silva leaned forward, further into Bond's space. His breath whispered across Bond's cheek, redolent with Scotch and cigar smoke
Bond held still as Silva's mouth ghosted across his, his generous lips mobile and firm, his tongue flicking out to tease James's. Silva pulled back.
"Come now," he purred, "Why so shy? You just said I wouldn't be your first…" he glanced down and up, quasi-coy. His hands gripped Bond's knees and pulled them further apart. James could feel the stretch all the way to his groin. He inhaled sharply, and Silva grinned. "Oh, my kitten. This will be fun!"
Silva gestured, and the goons at the back of the room stepped forward. One untied Bond and held him, the other suddenly, he leaned forward and injected something into Bond’s elbow joint . Another nod from Silva and they turned and left. Silva's hands were still on Bond's knees. James couldn't control the shudder which ran through him. Why am I feeling like this? he wondered, almost-drunk on the sensations.
"Come, kitten," Silva said grandly. "Follow Papi." He stood.
Still confused, James stood too. "W..what do you want from me?" he asked, dumbly.
"Everything, kitten. Everything."
…
They walked through the huge, echoing room. The arrays of the mainframes purred and whirred quietly. The electricity hummed over James's skin, adding another layer of sensation. Long-dead feelings stirred to life within him; fear, confusion, and an appalled desire. He followed Silva unresisting, aware that the calculating, secret agent-ish part of him was shutting down.
Walking through the large double doors at the end of the room, Silva lifted a languid hand and gestured to the left. "This way!" he trilled.
They came to a smaller room, this one empty of computers, apart from a small laptop on a side table, next to a plush sofa covered in plump cushions. The laptop was open and powered on, a shot of M's face filling the screen. Light streamed through high, dust-covered windows. Silva turned slightly and caught James's hand in his, tugging him towards the sofa. "Here will do nicely," he said.
They sat. James almost perching, Silva reclining comfortably on the cushions, a King surveying his slave. "Come to me, kitten," he ordered with a flutter of his eyelashes. When James didn't move, he stretched out his hand and tugged him back. James half-fell onto Silva, the breath whooshing out of him as their bodies collided. Silva smiled again, the smile of a predator about to dine. “And now,” he declared, “Kiss me.”
Despite himself, James stretched forward and up. Desire and a strange euphoria rose in him. He shivered as his lips came in contact with Silva’s jaw. “‘M gonna kiss you,” he slurred. “Right now.” And with a final stretch, his lips touched Silva’s. The contact sparked through James, and he groaned into the kiss
Silva chuckled and pulled away. “Good, kitten,” he gloated. “The cocaine you were injected with is working! Desire will overwhelm you, and you will be mine...”
It wasn’t James’s first time on coke; he’d been everywhere and done everything at this point in his life, but it was his first time not-in-control of the drug. It coursed through him, burning away his inhibitions, and filling him with the burning, intense need to fuck.
He reached up and cupped Silva’s jaw, kissing him again, using his tongue and his teeth and his lips, desperate for physical contact. He whimpered, and the shut-down part of his brain goggled at him, aghast. He ignored it, and wriggled around so he could clamber over Silva, straddling his lap. James felt the other man’s erection rubbing against his and nearly came in his pants.
Silva closed his big hands around James’s face, deepening the kiss. James moaned into Silva’s mouth. He reached down to unbutton Silva’s waistcoat and shirt, pulling at the fabric which was between him and his need to touch, to taste…he pulled back and greedily drank in the Sight of Silva’s golden skin, flat stomach and flat, dark nipples. He leaned down and swiped his tongue across the left one.
“Enough of that,” Silva said, and pulled James up. “I want to see you, my kitten. Now, strip.”
James quickly shed his dinner jacket, then fumbled his buttons open. When Silva ran blunt nails down his torso, James gasped and wriggled, smashing their crotches together. Both men moaned and pushed together. James reached for his fly, raising up to shimmy his trousers down as far as possible. As usual, he was commando beneath his clothes, and his erection bobbed forward, eager for attention.
“Oh my! It would seem that even the rumours don’t do you justice, kitten,” Silva smiled, reaching down to clasp his hand about James’s cock. James shuddered all over at the touch, Silva’s hand felt so cool and slightly rough against his smooth, burning flesh. Silva pumped lazily and James thrust into his touch, wordless pleas spilling from his lips. The room span crazily and his head whirled. Nothing had felt this good in so long…”Lie back, my lover,” SIlva ordered, and James hurried to comply.
Silva dragged James’s trousers down, leaving them bunched around his ankles, caught on his shoes. Then he leaned down and licked, cat-like, from James balls to his crown. James yelled out, trying to thrust up, but Silva’s hands on his hips held him still. “Oh no no!” he laughed. “This is my scene, little kitten. Be patient.”
He pushed back off the sofa and stripped himself, fastidiously folding his garments, leaving James in an inferno of frustrated desire..
Silva’s cock was full and ruddy with arousal, pre-cum already leaking from the slit in the fat head. He palmed himself and pulled lazily. “Suck me,” he ordered, moving to stand by James’s head. James sat up and licked around the tip, the taste of Silva like ambrosia in his mouth. James opened his mouth and engulfed Silva, sucking as far down as he could. It had been years since he bottomed, and his skills were rusty, but as he bobbed and slurped, it all came back to him in a rush. He cupped Silva’s balls in one hand, feeling their warm, furred weight with delight. Silva’s cock grew further in James’s mouth, and James tasted the delicious tang of his arousal coating James’s tongue. He moaned and worked Silva faster.
Silva threaded his hands through James’s hair, not directing, just holding him. In the mess that was James’s head, he felt warm and tingly and almost loved; not needing to think or do, just ,em>be...he shivered and sucked, bringing up his other hand to work the base of Silva’s cock. Suddenly, Silva pulled him off with a pop.
“Now, kitten, we shall fuck,” Silva announced in his grandiose manner. He seated himself on the sofa, rearranging the cushions to suit himself. “Lube me,” he declared, spreading his arms wide on the sofa back. James looked around muzzily. He didn’t see a bottle anywhere. Then a light went on in his head, and he twisted round and spat a fat gobbet onto the head of Silva’s cock. It trickled slowly down Silva’s hardness, and James stretched out his hand to spread it around. Once his cock was good and wet, James sat back on his heels. “Sit on my cock, kitten,” Silva instructed.
James stood up and turned around, presenting Silva with his back. He went to sit, but Silva stopped him with a hand on his hips. “Turn around, kitten,” he said. “I want to see your face when I take you. I need to know that you know you’ve lost.”
James turned again, then straddled Silva’s knees. By now his head was everywhere, and he needed Silva’s assistance to get his own knees onto the sofa. He knelt.
Silva spat on his own hand, and reached around to wet James’s pucker. James moaned at the touch and arched up, it all felt so good, so right. Silva grabbed his own cock in the other hand and lined it up. “Sit,” Silva said simply.
James sat.
Oh, the burn!
James’s arse was not used to intrusisons, and the fat stretch of Silva’s cock was an agony as he tunnelled inside. James whined and wriggled, trying to get comfortable, but Silva smacked his butt with a sharp “Stop that!”, so James stopped. Silva grunted then finally, blessedly, he breached the tight ring of muscle, and slid deep. Both men groaned aloud.
Sweat ran down James’s face as he gazed fuzzily into Silva’s eyes. “I own you, Silva said. “From here on out, you are mine, kitten. My toy, my lover, my tool. Now, fuck me.”
James rose slowly up, then slid back down. The coke was starting to wear off, and he felt parts of Bond returning, trying to assert himself, but it was no good, the overwhelm of the drug and the fucking were too strong. Bond sank down again, and james rose back up.
“Oh, you can do better than that,” Silva said, and grabbed James’s hips. He pulled him down, lifted him up; down, up, down, like six feet of fucktoy. James cried out, it still burned, but it also felt so good…he reached down to grab his own cock, squeezing and twisting while Silva worked him til both men were shuddering and crying out loud. Suddenly, Silva pushed up, hard, while dragging James down, and came with a shout. James yanked furiously on himself, before following Silva over. Hot ropes of cum spurted from him, painting Silva’s abdomen. James dropped his head to Silva’s shoulder. Tears welled from his eyes; whether from shock or shame or release, he didn't know. The room whirled crazily about him, and he slid into oblivion.
…
When he awoke, he was naked and in a huge bed covered in expensive sheeting. Silva stood at the room’s one, wide window, with his back to Bond. Bond sat up, then swung his legs out of bed. There was no sign of his gun, or his clothes, but he wasn’t surprised. He stood.
Silva turned. “Ah, kitten,” he said with a wide grin. “You waken! Such a long sleep you had, but never mind, I’m sure you needed it.” He walked towards James.
Bond quirked a sardonic brow. “I’m sure.” He gestured. “Are there clothes for me anywhere?”
“Ah, he’s feeling feisty,” Silva spoke of Bond in the third person, which Bond hated. “No, there aren’t.”
“Being naked won’t stop me from trying to escape, you know,” Bond stated flatly. “I’ll find a way out soon enough.”
“But will you?” Silva questioned. “By the time I’ve had my way with you a few times, with or without the aid of the coke, you will be my slave, as much as dear Severine is. Speaking of which…” He snapped his fingers, and a gunshot rang out outside, followed by the unmistakable, meaty sound of a body falling. “Was,” he sighed. Then smiled.
Bond tensed. He realised getting out of this situation depended on him staying alert as much as possible, which meant no more coke. Which meant fucking Silva while fully aware.
”The things I do for my country,” he thought, then stepped forward, and dropped to his knees.
END.