Chapter Text
At home, Q promptly falls asleep on the couch without even changing into his home clothes.
He wakes confused and with a headache. Alec is nowhere to be seen, but a note sits on the coffee table: Gone shopping.
Whatever it means.
Frowning, Q drags himself up the stairs and into the bathroom and gets the tub filling. Meanwhile, he brushes his teeth, musing over the note. Alec doesn’t go shopping . He goes to get groceries. Q feels that there’s a particular distinction.
He takes off his clothes and sinks into the warm water with a blissful sigh. He almost falls asleep again when the clang of the front door disturbs him. He left the door ajar and can now hear Alec grumbling at one of the cats for trying to trip him. The rustle of plastic grocery bags follows – no matter Q's multiple appeals, the man refuses to pick up the habit of using fabric bags to carry food from Tesco to the fridge.
Alec’s steps halt when he fails to find Q when he’d left him.
“Q?” Alec calls out.
“’m taking a bath!” Q shouts back.
Alec’s footsteps ascend. He gives a perfunctory knock at the bathroom door. “May I come in?”
“Of course not! I’m naked!”
“So? Nothing I haven’t seen,” Alec counters.
“Well! Not on me!” Q huffs, glaring towards the door.
All the while, in Q’s head, treacherous thoughts are dancing. He feels the heat of them and how it rearranges his insides with shivers. He looks down between his legs at the curious swell of his dick. He glares at it, then at the door again.
No, he can’t do it.
“Go away, Alec. I’ll be out soon.”
Alec dithers. Q stops breathing. The stupid part of him is hoping Alec might barge in, but of course he doesn’t.
“Alright. Are the cats hungry or lying again?”
“I didn’t feed them.”
“Right.”
Alec’s retreat feels deeply unsatisfying.
Grumbling. Q wraps himself in the bathrobe and sneaks into the bedroom to put on pyjama pants.
Downstairs, he finds Alec in the kitchen, cleaning a gun at the counter.
“Alec! Not in the bloody kitchen!” Q chides, glaring over at Alec’s left when two knives lie, perfectly aligned. Q groans. “This is what bloody shopping means?”
“Naturally,” Alec nods, unfazed. “Where should I take it then?”
“You can finish it here this time. Next time, use the study. That’s what it’s for.”
Even from a distance, Q recognises the gun. He’s surprised it was left behind.
“It won’t shoot.”
“You can make it.”
“It will go into the Q-Branch logs. The update of the palm print.”
Alec looks up at Q. His hands carry on with their task.
“You want me to get another one? It wouldn't be a big problem, this just seemed easier.”
Q shakes his head and approaches, plucking one of the knives and examining the well-worn leather and the weight of the blade. More for fighting and less for throwing. Alec gives him a sidelong glance.
“Come on,” Q scoffs, catching him. “It’s not even out of the sheath.”
“No,” Alec agrees as he finishes reassembling the gun.
Q sets the knife down and extends a hand to Alec, palm up. With the gun, Alec parts ways without protest. Satisfied, Q pockets it in his bathrobe and extends his hand again.
Alec raises a brow. “What now?”
“Show me your palm,” Q says, wiggling his fingers.
Alec sighs but presents Q with his hand palm-up and allows Q’s perusal. Q inspects it and gestures to the other. Alec gives him his left and looks at Q studying his palm.
“Okay. Upstairs,” Q commands as he finishes the examination and releases the agent’s hand with a parting squeeze.
***
In the study, Alec is right behind, leaning with one hand on Q’s desk, the other braced on the back of ‘s chair, boxing him in. It unnerves Q, and he pushes Alec away blindly.
“Stop hovering.”
It doesn’t help. Alec doesn’t budge – on the contrary, he leans closer to the computer screen, where Q is redacting the hell out of an old entry, backdating it.
“You’re cheating,” Alec observes.
“Sure I am. Just, if the idiot shows up sometime in the future, do remind him this gun is as good as a toy in his hands,” Q murmurs as he hits a few final keys. “Try it.”
Alec’s fingers curl around the handle. As each and every time before, Q feels a thrill of pleasure from seeing lights flashing green.
“Thank you,” Alec says, tucking the gun into the shoulder holster and setting it back on Q’s desk. “I’d like to go do it tomorrow if you don’t mind.”
Q minds. Q doesn’t want to let Alec go with such feeble ground support. Q can cut the power – but after that, Trevelyan will be on his own. Q spins his chair to face him, arms crossed, frown on.
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Well then,” Q replies, unimpressed. “You needn’t worry about me dying from brain cancer, then. How about that?”
Alec chuckles and closes his eyes briefly with a shake of his head. “Point taken.”
They end up looking each other in the eyes for a moment too long. Q wonders if Alec will ever make any move without being prompted by Q.
He does make an attempt to lean further into Q’s space but aborts it with a jerk and bites down on the tip of his tongue. Well, here comes the man who’s actually worse than Q at this.
“Alec,” Q says, tone sharp with urgency.
Alec’s gaze, which has wandered over Q’s shoulder, snaps back to his. Q loves the colour of Alec’s eyes, spring green, and loves how they turn softer when he looks at Q in moments like this.
“Please do the thing,” Q continues archly when silence and stillness just stretch.
This does it. It’s like a snap of a string somewhere inside Alec – he surges forward to connect their lips. Q’s breath hitches, and he hugs Alec tight and cradles the back of his head in the crook of his fingers.
It’s an eager kiss but a shallow one, and Q parts his lips wider, inviting. When it’s clear to Q that the invitation is to be ignored, he breaks the kiss and leans back just enough to see Alec’s expression.
“Don’t do it French?” He requests a clarification.
“If I can help it,” Alec huffs, his breath ghosting over Q’s lips.
Q nods. He’s not disappointed – not all people like the weird feeling of a foreign tongue in their mouth and the intense exchange of spit.
“What about bites?” Q decides to make an inquiry since they’re already on the topic. “I’m a latent biter, but most people I’ve been with hated it, so...”
Alec chuckles and curls his fingers under Q’s jaw. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Alec brings their mouths together into a touching distance but doesn’t initiate a kiss, and Q realises with only a slight delay what Alec is offering.
Trying not to get overeager, Q catches Alec’s lower lip between his teeth. He tightens the trap of his teeth briskly, almost harshly - only after the sharp intake of breath from Alec Q lets go and sucks at the bitten flesh gently, soothing the sting. Alec lets out a quiet sound, something between a hum and a sigh. It leaves Q tingling.
Before they part again, Alec presses the tip of his tongue to Q’s upper lip, light and teasing.
“Alec,” Q whispers, near desperate.
“Mm?”
Q tugs the knot of his bathrobe loose, takes Alec’s hand and presses it to his bare belly, just above the waistband of his pyjama pants. With an encouraging push downwards, he let go of it.
When Alec smiles, it's some new smile.
Silently, Alec clasps both Q’s hips and slowly guides him to sit on the edge of the desk. He hooks his fingers under the waistband and tugs Q’s pyjamas down just enough to reveal the most sensitive parts. Slow and deliberate, he palms around the area first, caressing the sharp points of hipbones, the warm hollows of his inner thighs, that arrow shape formed by the creases of his groin - Alec’s fingers follow the path along them, touch dips lower until both Alec's hands inevitably encounter the hardness nestled in between.
Q moans soft and torn. Alec’s fingers twitch.
“Permission to look?”Alec asks softly, almost apprehensive.
“Granted.”
Alec’s eyes meet Q’s. “Why did you forbid me from entering the bathroom?”
“Wrong motivation, obviously,” Q grins.
Alec laughs, soft and gleeful and secret.
Alec’s movements are rough when he pulls Q off, but not at the expense of precision. His focus is sharp and zeroed in on Q; his rhythm matches the increasingly erratic urgency of Q’s breaths.
Soon, his breathing turns too shallow, and his vision starts to blur at the edges – grey fuzzy shapes appear and muddle the picture of Alec's crooked mouth, the soft strands of his hair falling across his forehead, and his hand working Q.
“Shit, I can’t,” Q hisses, throwing his head back. It’s like he’s almost there but not quite. Too much and not enough, and the tension without release has Q trembling.
Immediately, Alec stops. His composure is steady, just as his focus on Q. It evokes a bunch of conflicting emotions in Q, which he’ll need to look at later.
“I’d rather do that you can,” Alec informs him. “More or less?”
Q smiles at Alec’s dedication and brushes the loose strands of hair off his forehead, smoothing it back into place, a gesture too tender to be allowed anywhere outside the situation they’re presently in.
“More, I think,” Q shrugs with one shoulder, eyes drifting to the side before Q returns his gaze to Alec. “My preference is to have something, um, internal. And some lube won’t hurt.”
“Have something to assist with that?”
“Yes. Bedroom?” He offers, feeling a thrill of excitement mixed with a slight twinge of shame and nervousness that always comes at moments like this. Q wonders if all people feel that way before being with someone new – if it’s just him.
“May as well get you comfortable,” Alec agrees and gently tucks Q back in his pyjama pants, “want to go ahead and sort yourself out?”
Q’s eyebrows rise at that. “Ah. You want me to? I mean, you’d rather not be in the room?”
“Not what I mean,” Alec shakes his head. “Don’t want to make you shy.”
“You won’t? You saw me throw up, for heaven's sake!”
Alec sends Q a lopsided grin and steps back, at the same time taking Q’s hand in his and leading the way toward the bedroom.
***
Q sheds pyjama pants but leaves the robe on because otherwise he’ll get cold.
Q’s eyes are cast down, but he thinks that Alec, who stands beside the opposite side of the bed, is looking directly at him. Q hitches one knee up on the edge of the mattress and reaches down between his legs with lubed fingers. Then, unable to stop himself, he looks up – and indeed sees Alec watching him. What baffles Q most is the unobtrusive quality of Alec’s attention as his gaze takes in the whole picture in front of him.
Q drops his eyes again. He doesn’t possess any exhibitionistic tendencies - why hadn’t he just asked Alec to wait outside for five minutes? He coiled in nerves so tightly to proceed with the task comfortably.
“You sure you need me here?” Alec asks after a long moment.
“Yes. Just don’t stand there staring.”
“I thought you wanted me to,” Alec says with a slightly embarrassed chuckle.
“Certainly not so… undivided. Maybe occupy himself with undressing?”
“You want me naked?”
Q glances up, considering. “I want a bit of skin. To the point you’re comfortable with.”
Alec shrugs and jumps to the task. His knitted jumper goes off first, followed by the t-shirt. As he starts on his jeans, Q is encouraged enough to push a single finger in.
Q can’t hold back a soft hiss – not exactly of discomfort, it just been a while. Grabbing the plug with the other hand, he glances up, prompted by hearing how Alec pauses mid-motion. He catches the man with jeans down to his knees, eyeing the object in Q’s hand.
A horrible realisation hits Q. “Are you straight?” He blurts out.
Alec blinks at him, bemused. “Bi,” he says, then pauses, then shrugs. “Well, I don’t care for bits much. So not straight nor gay rather than bisexual.” Alec kicks his jeans off without much fanfare, socks flying across the room. Pan steals Alec’s socks all the time, but it fails to instil even a fraction of discipline in Trevelyan. “But I make you uncomfortable.”
“No,” Alec raised an eyebrow. With an eye roll, Q amends. “I mean, I’m awkward about this in general, and your behaviour suddenly became confusing.”
“Excuse me. I’m just curious.”
There’s a moment of hesitation. “Have you ever?..” Q starts but does not finish, again caught in the trap of not exactly knowing Alec’s limits.
“Fucked a man?” Alec guesses the question, and Q nods. “Yes, I know the technicalities and can do it. The need just doesn’t arise often,” Alec says with a casual shrug. “I’ve never encountered this stuff used on men before.”
Q smiles as he coats the plug with lube. Is it the weirdest sexual encounter Q’s ever had? Probably.
“Do you want to?” Q asks, holding the toy out to Alec. His voice and his hand are steady, even when his heart hammers wildly in his chest. “Since you’re curious.”
Alec hesitates. “You don’t mind?”
“No, and it’s much better than you staring at me.”
Alec nods and rounds the bed, coming to stand behind Q. He’s stripped down to a pair of plain white boxers. Q stares at them a bit too long before forcing himself to look away.
Alec gathers the robe to push it aside to have better access – the brush of air sends a shiver through Q, and his flagged arousal reasserts itself so fast Q feels funny.
Meanwhile, Alec takes the plug from Q’s hand.
“Do you need me to tell you when you’re there?” Q asks, his voice is a bit like he’s just been strangled.
“Yes, If you don’t mind,” Alec answers and leans in briefly to press a kiss to Q’s temple in what seems to be silent gratitude. It makes Q’s poor heart tumble and skip a bit.
Q doesn’t know if Alec does what he does next consciously. The drag of the plug is slick and slow, a sensuous glide from the spot immediately under his tailbone and down. Q feels a shudder rushing through him, and with a muffled, broken sound, Q sticks his hand between his legs again, fingertips brushing against his hungry, obscenely convulsing hole and his hips grinding against his forearm just a bit.
“Keep still,” Alec grumbles, amused and somewhat raspy - and really, it’s ridiculous – the man doesn’t realise what he’s doing!
Q moans, desperate. The sound breaks with a hitch in Q’s breath when the firm silicone bumps against his fingers.
“That’s it. Set it straight. And just push against the resistance.”
“Okay,” Alec is a touch too reluctant at first.
“No, I mean it,” Q says with a blissed sigh. “Push against it. You won’t hurt me with this thing.”
Alec exhales softly and applies a bit more pressure. Like that, the toy slips inside Q.
Q’s body goes taut before melting. He moans and sags back against Alec’s chest. “Yeah, nice job, you,” he murmurs his praise.
“Bed, Q,” Alec huffs with harmless amusement.
Q looks dazedly as Alec reclines against the pillow until he’s in a comfortable, lazy sprawl. First, Q just wants to crawl on top of him but reconsiders. Instead, he crawls onto the bed until his knees are beside Alec’s hips and turns his back to the man. As he raises his knee, Alec gets Q’s intentions, and his hands come up to support Q under his elbows. With Alec’s help, Q is astride his thighs in no time, and he drapes himself over Alec’s chest.
It would have been perfect, but the bathrobe gets in the way, bunching somewhere underneath Q’s thighs.
“Are you sure you need it?”
Q considers the question. He isn’t cold, presently. He’s rather warm, in fact, despite the fact it does not progress as smoothly as he sometimes imagines these things playing out in his fantasies. No, it progresses like a typical sex of Q’s reality – slow and awkward. But it’s not stilted, and Alec’s presence is so calm and grounding that it prevents Q from falling into the pit of self-consciousness he’s often spiralling into in moments like these. The itchy, tingling pleasure of arousal streams through him, and it keeps Q sufficiently distracted to slowly let go.
“No, I’m not sure anymore,” Q finally answers.
Q is disrobed so swiftly that he goes from warm to hot. He drops his head back on Alec’s shoulder, tilts his face toward Alec’s neck and pants.
Trevelyan still doesn’t touch him .
“Are you comfortable with your legs like that?” He questions instead.
“Yes,” Q groans, now a little annoyed. “Why?”
He had his legs folded under him.
“It doesn’t look comfortable,” Alec notes.
“’m bendy,” Q counters petulantly.
“It doesn’t diminish the risk of your legs going numb from the knee down. Unfold them.”
Q puffs out a dramatic sigh but does as he's told. Without the support of his knees, he essentially has all his weight on Alec and nothing in matters of the fulcrum. He doesn’t like to float like this and is forced to dig his heels into the mattress on either side of Alec’s legs. It brings him into one extremely open position.
He looks down at himself – full-mast cock, ruddy and lewd, open thighs, the hollow valley of his belly, the blush dusting his chest. His face is hot. His pulse is in his ears.
“Alec,” Q urges without knowing for what, exactly.
“Yes. Don’t look,” Alec says, quiet and sober. Grounding.
Q thinks it’s a stellar idea and turns his head to burrow his face on the slope of the man’s neck.
At first slick touch, Q trashes – not much from the contact but from the contrast in temperature. His dick is hot. Lube is lukewarm at best.
“Sorry,” Alec says. “What got you so worked up?” He ponders in an outrageously casual tone.
Q just gives a breathy little moan and bites at the skin of Alec’s neck. The action earns no protest. Alec proceeds with the task on hand.
Again, without attempting any teasing or gradual increase in intensity, he starts pulling Q off fast and rough. His method is artless but efficient – a downward stroke with a slight twist of the wrist, back up, grip closes over the cockhead tightly. Or rather over the gathered skin, because with how Alec drags his fingers up, Q’s gland ends up fully encapsulated by his foreskin. It does not feel quite right and leaves Q gasping. He catches Alec’s hand mid-stroke and adjusts the grip to ease the pressure.
“Want me to touch it?” Alec asks right before he does.
Instead of answering, Q makes some high-pitched, anguished noise.
“Understood,” Alec says against Q’s ear and proceeds, and now Q fucking melts.
The sparkling bliss very much turns off his brain, and Q doesn’t care about how he is mouthing and biting on Alec’s neck, wet and lubberly, or about the broken, pitiful mewls of pleasure Alec milks out of him with every stroke of his hand.
With his other hand, Alec reaches further between Q’s legs until his fingers press on the wide base of the plug. Its shift tears a loud gasp from Q’s mouth, his own hand flies to press on top of Alec’s, trapping it there and his hips grind down hard – and he spills over Alec’s fingers, in several long explosive bursts, each one makes muscles of Q’s body clench and convulse in an uncontrollable way. At first, it feels heavenly, but as it goes and goes and goes , the sharp tension turns into something on the edge of unbearable.
“Stop,” Q gasps, broken. “Too much, Alec, stop.”
“I did a while ago,” Alec’s voice sounds against his ear. “It’s over. Just relax,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Q’s temple.
There’s an insistent pressure of an open palm against Q’s sternum. Q struggles against the desire of his body to stay coiled, tight and convulsing, but the familiar method of focusing on place directly under Alec’s touch helps. He takes a deep, shaky breath and lets it out in a slow, measured exhale, feeling like his entire body is sinking into an indolent ease.
“Bloody hell, that was intense,” Q mumbles, barely coherent.
Alec answers with a low rumbling chuckle.
Q feels the touch of something distinctly less pleasant than Alec’s skin and peers down to see Alec cleaning up the mess Q made of himself with paper towels. Q thinks about protesting but finds that he can’t be persuaded to move just yet.
“Copious. Doubt I’ve ever seen a single load that big,” Alec comments casually. “Two-month supply?”
Q hums, watching how Alec swipes a particularly artful streak that traverses Q’s belly to cross his left nipple. “Maybe one,” he answers with a lazy tongue. “Nocturnal emissions still work even when dick doesn’t. A teenager’s joy to wake up in damp, sticky underwear,” Q grumbles.
“Indeed most inconvenient,” Alec agrees, still in this mildly amused tone of his. When he’s finished with the mess Q made of himself, he starts wiping his hands.
Q makes an effort to raise his hands and plucks the paper towel from Alec’s fingers. After a moment of confusion, Alec allows it and looks at how Q swipes it over his open palm first, then moves on to clean each of his fingers individually.
“You alright?” Alec asks once they are both somewhat cleaned. It’s all sticky and calls for a thorough shower, but at least they won’t make a mess of the bedding anymore.
“Me?” Q repeats. To Q, the answer to this question should be evident. He goes through all his possible aches anyway, and once he’s sure, he nods. “Yes. More than, really.”
Alec pets the hollow of Q’s belly. “Good,” he says, sounding more pleased than he had been throughout the whole encounter.
As Q processes this, Alec manages to coax the duvet from under them and drapes it over both their bodies.
“Are you?” Q decides to return the question. He’s still arse to groin with the man, and he can swear whatever Alec had in his pants went unstirred by the encounter. Q has never encountered this level of indifference and can’t help his morbid, intrusive curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… was it disturbing or uncomfortable in any way?”
“No.”
Q takes a sidelong glance at the man and finds him rather pensive. “Why’d you look like that, then?”
“I think I enjoyed it.”
“Oh. Has nothing to do with your dick, though, yes?”
Alec rolls his eyes. “Why are people so fixated on dicks?” He grumbles under his breath, apparently rhetoric. “No, Q.”
“You don’t like to talk about it?” Q guesses.
“No.”
Q gives him an apologetic kiss on the cheek. “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”
Chastened, Q does. He isn’t sure they need to continue this talk, and he is too stupid from an orgasm to think about something other than dicks. The way Alec keeps touching him with continuous light strokes across his belly and flank consoles Q that he’s not too aggrieved.
“You’ve still got the thing inside you,” Alec murmurs after an undefined amount of time later. Q doesn’t doze off, he just floats in his vague thoughts, soaking up the pleasure of simple cuddles.
It takes Q a few moments to puzzle out what Alec means. “Mm. Too lazy to deal with it. Doesn’t bother me,” Q murmurs once he understands Alec is referring to the plug.
“May I do it?” Alec asks in a ridiculously polite way.
“If you want, yes,” Q says after a pause.
Shifting, Q curls his hips a bit forward to give Alec better access and waits until the man takes hold of the base securely.
“Just like you pushed it in, but out. Slow and steady.”
Careful, Alec pulls, and Q bears down on it, his muscles letting go of the small shape easily. As his body clenches around emptiness, he can’t suppress the soft whimper from escaping him.
Alec reacts immediately. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” Q answers shakily.
Alec interprets and reconsiders. “You liked it?” He put a plug on top of soiled paper towels heaped on the nightstand.
“Kind of. It’s ambiguous.”
“Tell me.”
Q scoffs and leans a bit to the side to give Alec a look.
“What?” Alec frowns.
“You said you don’t want to talk about your dick, but you want to hear about my arse. How’s that fair?”
Alec’s eyebrows do a funny little dance – first fly up in a surprise and then gather together in a befuddled frown.
“Do you have problems talking about it?” He questions and looks like he’s barely suppressing a smile.
“No,” Q sighs and capitulates without further attempts to argue. “It’s just the empty feeling after. It’s a relief, but you want to stuff a finger or two inside anyway,” he shrugs, set on imparting this information casually. By now, it’s evident Alec doesn’t think it appealing but also can’t see it as something shameful. “It’s confusing but arousing. Plus, no one’s really handled it for me before.”
“Why?” Alec presses, now with genuine curiosity.
“I don’t know,” Q pauses to think. “If I’ve got it in and it’s time to pull it out, the probability that everyone involved has had their orgasm is high. Everything else is a clean-up, and it’s commonly considered a private affair.”
Q explains as best as he can. He’s never thought about it at length before. Now, he realises that one of his problems with partners might have been in this strange disconnect when there’s a huge void between sex and care.
Now, it seems odd to Q. One look at Alec’s expression hints that it’s strange to him also.
“You let me do this easily,” Alec points out, his brows furrowed pensively once again. “You don’t think it’s that private.”
“No, since you put it in, you just as well can pull it out.”
Alec snorts at Q's bluntness – one of those little sounds that never fail to make Q’s stomach flip.
“Thank you,” Alec says after another lengthy pause. “It’s useful to get a new perspective.”
“Happy to be useful,” Q replies archly but without the heat of offence behind his tone.
They settle into a long stretch of comfortable silence. Alec’s hands never really stop wandering over Q’s chest, shoulders and neck in absent patterns. Q flings one arm above his head to toy with Alec’s hair, and his other hand rubs absently over the curve of the man’s hip.
Pan sneaks into the bedroom, creeps across the room and snatches one of Alec’s socks from the floor. Then he hurries away, tail high and his trophy clasped between his teeth securely.
Both Alec and Q snort.
“You alright?” Alec asks again after a while.
Q tilts his head to glance up at him. “I’ve answered this one already,” he points out with a sleepy smile. “Still yes.”
Alec brushes over the column of Q’s neck. He looks… hesitant, unsure of how to proceed. It’s a rare look on Alec, and Q wonders if he should be worried. His fingers trace the path along Q’s clavicle in a tender caress, and Q has to suppress a shiver.
“Alec?” Q prompts softly.
“Q,” Alec pauses and frowns. “What’s your name?”
Q chuckles. “Howell. Not what you wanted to ask, is it?”
“No,” Alec shakes his head. With his thumb, Alec traces one short line on the side of Q’s neck – like he’s anxious. “Would you like to… repeat, someday?”
Q doesn’t get the meaning at first. Alec's tentativeness beats him off course.
“This,” Alec adds with a slight tilt of his head. “I’m not sure if I can offer you more than this...” Alec mutters.
It’s so weird to see him awkward and sputtering. So wrong.
“Alec, shut up,” Q interrupts, employing his Quartermaster voice. “Yes, if you’ll have me, I’ll be happy to.”
Alec’s lips twitch into a smile. His eyes flick to Q’s lips.
“Yes,” Q repeats once more because Alec clearly needs a nudge for that. A nudge that Q is happy to give.
Alec huffs before leaning down and pressing their lips together.
It’s soft and unhurried. Alec’s fingers on Q’s neck are gentle, grounding weight. Q lets out a hum of pleasure and catches Alec’s upper lip between his teeth, releasing after a gentle tug, and murmurs his appreciation when Alec returns the favour, biting into his mouth.
He finds that he can’t stop smiling, even as he’s forced to admit the inevitable truth.
He’s fallen in love.