Q already knew he was going to bruise, but there was nothing wrong with that. It meant that if James were to see him barely clothed in the coming days he would remember this. And maybe they'd do this again. But he didn't want to think about the next time when he needed to enjoy this one.
They moved slowly. Slowly was good sometimes. Now it was good. It wouldn't hurt him, he was sure, but he got to feel the movements, feel every inch of James sliding into him, then out. And the kisses- Q didn't tend to kiss during sex. There was very little meaning to sex in the past, but James kissed him, lingered there as he slid his arms around his shoulders, fingers through his hair, holding him there so that their lips could continue to brush and press and seek...
Q was certain that if they moved any faster he would come too soon. And he really didn't want to. Fuck, he would drag this out for hours if he were allowed to. If he could manage it.
He could make James moan like that. James, who had had so many lovers, so many women before Q, and yet he could still make him moan. Slow. Slow. Fuck. "Fuck-" Q gasped against James' lips, tugging at his hair. "You. Feel so. So. Good," he panted, nibbling on James' lower lip, rolling his hips in time with James'. "More. Please. More. "
This really did feel a lot more loving than he had ever intended it to be, but then how could it ever have been any other way? This was Q- had he ever slept with someone he'd trusted like this? Someone he knew wanted to keep him safe, someone who was definitely on his side- the more he thought about it, the more obvious it was. He was just afraid the words would slip out when he didn't want them to. A silent 'I love you' with every brushed of their lips.
But it was no time for thinking, especially not this ridiculous over-thinking. Blood was pumping down and yet he still felt flushed and warm. Q swore, and James heard himself moan again, his cock throbbing, aching- his stomach muscles quivering and tensing. "Ohgod-" he breathed, feeling Q wrapped around him, pressed beneath him. His head was spinning, and it wasn't the alcohol.
Q was begging for more again, and James was happy to oblige, holding onto him a little tighter and meeting the rocking of his hips, faster, gradually faster, harder- every thrust felt dangerously close to pushing him over the edge- and he wanted it, needed to let go, even though at the same time he wanted to be stuck in this moment for as long as possible.