Happy Wednesday, Shippers. This week, I couldn’t choose between two fics, so in the words of the Collectiva Diva, why not rec both?
Rec #1: A Laying On of Hands
Author: fandomfan Word Count: 5675
Pairing: James Bond/Q Warnings: Hand!kink, smut
James has never had a thing for hands before Q.
I must thank fandomfan for converting me/welcoming me into the “hand-loving fold.” 00Q is a ship that I don’t sail nearly often enough (mostly because I read practically everything there was to be read six months ago), but then I come across a fic like this and I swoon. Quite literally, because this fic is hot. It is rare for me to rec a smutty one-shot, but then it is also rare for me to swoon like a Victorian school marm in a bodice-ripper Harlequin romance.
Besides, this is so much more than a smutty one-shot; this is a brief exploration of an intense sexual chemistry between two complex characters, and Bond’s fixation with Q’s hands is both sexy and telling. My favorite bit (well, aside from the extremely well-written sexy times) is this:
James backs off a step and gestures Q to his feet. He stands cautiously, and, touching nowhere else, James presses their hands together, palm to palm. Their fingers align, but they’re a study in contrasts. For each of James’—stubbed, thick, life-roughened—there’s one of Q’s—attenuated, supple, full of grace. They’re well cared-for, Q’s hands. None of the repeatedly broken and reset joints that tell James’ own past in tweaked muscle and re-knit bone. Instead Q has long, limber, nimble fingers that are even now folding over the tops of James’, nearly a whole joint’s length longer than James’ own. They’re keyboard-calloused and several cuticles have obviously felt the wrath of Q’s anxious teeth, but while James’ fingers are the blunt, brutal instruments he needs to carry out his work, Q’s do his bidding with a ballet dancer’s agile poise strung through their ligaments.
Click on the title and read this delightfully sexy piece about a Secret Agent and his Quartermaster.
Rec #2: The Twice-Told Tale
Author: arysteia Word Count: 15789
Pairing: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers
Warnings: There are schmexy times. NSFW
For someone he’d hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony’s pretty sure it’s his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard’s expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he’s certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve’s. Steve’s pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that’s not hypocritical at all.
Just when I thought I couldn’t love this ship any more, the Collectiva Diva sent me this fic. I opened it and did nothing else until I’d finished reading it. I especially loved the treatment of Tony Stark’s relationship with his father, which is a fairly common trope but is usually taken in a “Harold Stark is a douchebag” direction. I loved every sentence of this and I’m making room for it in my mind chateau as a part of my Stony headcanon.
This is beautiful, so beautiful that I cried. Read it if you love Stony.
Disclaimer: I own none of these images or characters, and if I did, you wouldn’t find me here reccing fanfic (nope, I’d be off on an island somewhere polishing Captain America’s muscles).
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