Author: Daniela
Fandom: James Bond
Pairing: Bond/M
Rating: PG13
Category: AU, Angst, Romance, Humour
Series/Sequel: No
Summary: On top of the Game
Warning: Adult Fanfiction, May/September
Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is just for fun.
Feedback: Sure. Anytime.
Email: daniforblue@yahoo.de
Released: March 2022
Beta: None.
Word Count: 1189
Note: This was a request from my friend Ralph.

Agent down.

Those words shattered her world. A situation she should have been used to. But today the message was no trick or mistake, like it had been so often before. His death had been confirmed by the agent who had shot him off a train passing a mile high bridge.

Bond was dead.

Sod it! She didn't cry, of course not. She had to complete her duties. It was her responsibility to hold it together. But part of her died with him.

"Ma'am? Shall I take care of the prearrangements for... for the funeral," her secretary murmured, expression tense and guarded.

"Pardon me?" Her voice was chilling. No wonder. Her heart felt like a piece of ice. She shivered to the bone.

Her secretary blinked. "Shall I...shall I...take care of the prearrangements..."

"Certainly." She turned away and looked out the window. "Leave me alone."

"Yes, ma'am."

The rain outside was streaming over the glass pane like a flood of tears. The world was weeping. Her eyes stayed dry.

She dreamt. She dreamt of him being back. She dreamt of things she had never dared to say or do. Unspeakable things. Well. In dreams there were no limits or shame. In dreams the craziest desires sprang to life. In dreams she floated on blue hope.

Feeling numb, she came home from the required ceremony. A funeral without a body the river beneath the bridge had dragged away. Nothing left for her to mourn. Not his strong body nor his blue, piercing eyes, not his impertinent smile nor his... Her lips quivered. She had to sit down. Stop this! She felt like she had lost every purpose to go on. She felt as old as she was. Burnt out. Bloody hell! How pathetic.

"Are you crying?"

The raspy voice out of the dark made her jump out of her seat. A voice she would have recognized anywhere. "You have a bloody cheek!"

He switched the light on and caught her by surprise.

She couldn't suppress the tears welling up in her eyes or smooth her wind-ruffled hair. She didn't look proper for a meeting with a subordinate. She didn't look or feel like M. "You look like hell," she bitched to save some dignity.

His face was covered in blue and purple patches, but even though he looked not well, he looked far from being dead. "So do you," he fired back.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Well, under the extreme circumstances..."

"Extreme? We buried you," she raged. Blimey!

He shrugged that off. "I didn't come here to fight with you. I'm too tired. I wanted your advice, your comfort." He dropped into a chair.

"Go on then. I'm certain you'll find plenty of comfort from plenty of girls."

"I don't desire their comfort. I want yours."


"I meant comfort, bloody hell, just comfort! What are you implying?"

"Nothing, but that I'm not the right person to give anyone comfort," she hissed, shaking. Pull yourself together for god's sake!

"Wrong." He fetched a bottle and poured himself a drink. "Sit with me."

She hesitated. She was afraid. Having him this close - alive and vibrant made her feel more than uncomfortable. It made her needy. It made her realize how much he meant to her. Bloody hell! I'm too old to feel this...young...and insecure.

"Please." His piercing eyes captured her.

"Fine." She sat down opposite to him.

He poured her a glass. "I like to come here. Your flat has style."

"Thank you."

"Like you."

She sipped from her drink. What is he up to? "I'm surprised there is no pretty girl around you could use your simple charm on."

"I'm not keen on charming any girl at the moment."


He knocked his drink back. "I'm keen on charming you."

She bolted up. "I'm not in the mood for your games."

"I noticed. Did you believe I was dead then?"

"Of course not. I know your dirty tricks all too well."

"Why were you crying then?"

"I was not!"

"But you are upset." He played with his cufflinks.

"Because you messed up again." She turned away from him.

"I don't believe you."

She heard him move. She made two steps forward. A mistake. He pursued and cornered her. She swore. "What is this? What are your intentions, Bond? I'm-"

"I don't know." He caught her hand and pinned it against his chest. "Yet."

"Let go."


Her defences crumbled in utter confusion. He wouldn't...right? He couldn't.... Oh. He would and he could.

He pulled her forward and kissed her on the lips. What the hell? She scratched him. He laughed. His eyes lit up. In a swift move he got hold of her other hand, boldly kissing her lips again, not kindly like a friend but passionately. Well. He always had been a man not hiding his strong emotions. Underneath the passion she felt his anger and pain. The agony of her betrayal. He deepened the kiss, fending off her struggle easily, getting hold of the buttons of her blouse. She realized this was no game then and that her struggling only increased his desire. He wanted her. He wanted her to surrender.

She tore her lips free. "Stop!"

He didn't but swept her on his arms like a girl and carried her to the bedroom. He crossed the line. Did he know there was no going back if he carried on like this? Well. She was as insane as he was because it didn't matter anymore. He's alive. Alive. She hurt due to the sheer sensation of having him back. The longing for him had tortured her long enough. She was done denying herself what she had wanted all along.

He threw her on the bed and stripped his clothes off.

"James..." she groaned, unsure of his advances. If he is mad at me...

He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips, embraced her in a more loving manner. "Trust me."

I can, can I? You are not that kind of man. Her pulse quickened. Her hands fluttered against his chest. "...please..."

He glided on top of her. "I won't hurt you...."

Well. He didn't, and for the first time she understood all too well why all those women over the world fell for him, and yet she couldn't regret being only one of many. Not tonight. Maybe never.

Unfortunately morning with all its cruel light and clearness as well as the duties of a leader had to come.

"How do you feel?" James turned to her.


He smirked. "So, my charm worked well."


"Any regrets?"

"Hardly." She couldn't glory in his bafflement because just then her phone rang.

It was her secretary. "Sorry to bother you this early, ma'am."

"What is it?"

"There are rumours...eh...well...rumours that Bond is still alive."



She hung up.

James chuckled. "You always liked me best, did you?"

"Did I?"

"May I remind you?"

"That depends." She pulled him close. "What can you do in five minutes, Mr. Bond?"

"You have no idea," he cheered, sparkling with life.

"Well then!"

Agent up.