Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies), Kingsmen
Characters: Q, Harry Hart, Merlin
Pairings: Harry Hart/Merlin
Genre: D/s, mild BDSM
Series: To Collar a Q
Word Count: 2755
Tags: Broken Q, Prostitution, Pre-Slash, Pre 00Q
Warnings: Q is not in a good place, Bond broke Q,
Follow-up to Buying Solace. Quinn is utterly broken after his night with Bond. Eventually he is found by two very caring men, Harry Hart and Merlin and Quinn’s life will never be the same.
The young man crawled off the bed after the man that had used him all night had left. Stepping into the shower Quinn, his real name he had not given to Bond. He wasn’t going to give him that at all. Quinn let the weak, warm water fall over him as he tried to wash away what had happened on that bed.
Sinking to the floor of the questionable tub, Quinn cried. He hated that he was in this situation, hated his family for putting him there, for throwing him out when he needed them the most. He had no money, and very little clothes, just what was on his back. He had wandered for days, refusing to beg, trying to find some kind of work. He had already been fired as a dishwasher. He let that sink in a moment, fired from something as simple as a dishwasher. But Quinn couldn’t take it. When he had to pawn his computer, he knew he was at the end of his rope. Selling his body was the last thing he wanted to do, he didn’t even have the money to go to one of the training houses, his parents revoking his scholarship to Byron where he would have trained.
He had felt lost before, but after Bond, he felt utterly broken. Taking a deep breath Quinn stood and turned off the shower. He tried to get dry with the thin towels that were hanging there, but even he knew it was useless.
Stepping back out to the bedroom, thoughts of what happened went through his mind.
“Thats right boy, I’m going to tie you down, and take you.”
The restraints didn’t necessarily scare him, Quinn knew he was a sub, except he never got the training he should have. It was the way Bond was, the tone and manner with which he spoke to Quinn. Then the flogger came next and Quinn tried not to cry again. When Bond had finally satiated himself, fucking Quinn twice more during the night, then edging him till it was almost painful, Bond fell asleep.
Quinn had slipped out of bed, no longer restrained, and curled up in a corner with a thin blanket around him. Quinn didn’t know how he had missed the Master mark on the man, but he had. He chalked it up to his ignorance about this whole thing. He refused to use the word prostitute, but he knew that was what the world had reduced him to.
He slept curled up in the corner, wondering how he was going to go on.
In the morning, Quinn was woken up and was played with once more before Bond left, giving him time to clean up. The man hadn’t said anything more to him as he left the not so seedy motel room.
After he felt dry enough, Quinn put on the clothes he had been wearing, knowing they needed cleaning. When he turned to look at the table, there was more money. When he picked up the bundle and counted it out there was fifteen hundred pounds. Quinn shook as he sank to the floor and leaned against the bed. It was enough to get him something for a couple nights and some food. He knew he needed to be careful, to make sure no one knew how much was in his pockets.
Quinn left the motel as his stomach grumbled. He walked till he found a diner that wouldn’t mind his appearance. He needed to eat, but he also wanted to control what he spent, so he just ordered chips and a sandwich with a cup of tea. He asked for a to go container, he was going to split his food so he had something later that day to eat. After he paid, and took up the rest of his food, Quinn sought out a place for the night. The cheap hotel he found was only marginally better than the one Bond had fucked him in.
After getting settled Quinn counted his cash and figured out how to hide it. He would only keep a few dollars on him at a time. Knowing he was going to need more, he swallowed hard, took few twenties and left the room. He needed clothes, so he went to the nearest charity shops and looked for things that were at least halfway decent. He found some jeans that fit him and looked good, a few t-shirts and even a couple of button ups. He also found a hideaway money belt that he could slip under the jeans. He was lucky in that the clothes cost less than thirty pounds. He paid, then went and bought a few underclothes. When he was done, he went back to the room and sorted all of his things into the cheap backpack he had bought at the charity shop. He felt a little better, and he had a better way to deal with hiding his money.
He wanted a computer, but knew that would blow most of the money he had, but he hoped that with the new clothes he could get a job somewhere. Putting his things away for now, Quinn ate his cold chips and the sandwich, tried to watch some telly on the old battered set in the room, then fell into a fitful sleep.
The next day, after a shower, Quinn changed into the best set of clothing that he had purchased and set out trying to figure out how to change his circumstances. The first couple of places that had job openings had turned him down. No experience, and he had no phone number for them to reach him in case they did have something that he could do.
All day it went till he was exhausted. He walked to a small coffee shop and sat down, ordered a cup of coffee and some soup. As he looked out the window Quinn sighed, trying to keep his emotions in tact and not breakdown.
“Well, aren’t you a beautiful thing,” a man said as he slid into the booth, leering at Quinn.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t invite you sit down.”
“No, you didn’t, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to at least try.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes at the man and knew exactly what he was after. He took a sip of his coffee and wondered if he could do it again. If he could sell his body once more. Thinking about his need for a computer and a phone, knowing the money he had wasn’t going to last, he contemplated.
“What are you asking?”
“A night, with you. I’ll pay you well.” The man leered again.
“Are you marked?” Quinn asked, not wanting to make the same mistake he had with Bond.
“Just a house mark. Byron to be exact, but nowhere near a master. Just enough training not to hurt or be hurt.”
If the man had trained at Byron, that meant he had money. The training wasn’t cheap, not like the smaller local houses were.
“500,” Quinn said as he spooned up some of the soup. “1000 if you want to tie me up, but nothing more than that.”
The man smiled and agreed. Quinn finished his food, the man paid for it, then they went to his hotel room, which was a vast improvement over the last one he was in.
In the morning, the man was true to his word and left him with 1000 pounds. Quinn sat on the edge of the bed and felt hollow inside. The man had left, after at least giving him a meal and taking care of him after the sex, unlike Bond. Still, Quinn felt used and he shook with the suppressed emotions he was fighting.
Leaving the hotel, Q slung the backpack over his shoulders and left. He sighed and looked around where he was. Taking some small bills in his hand he took a taxi back to the hotel he was staying at. Once there, he checked to make sure his stuff was still there, which it was. Combining his money, he put it in the money belt and strapped in around his middle, then put his jeans back on. Checking out, he walked, and found a used electronics store. Taking his time, he found a laptop that was serviceable. It wasn’t the best, but Quinn knew he could work with it and improve it. After that he looked at the phones, and chose a early model smart phone. Again it was serviceable, and when he was making a steadier income, he could get something better. After purchasing both items, he slipped them into his backpack and left.
Quinn walked the streets of London, not really caring where he was going, except he wanted to find and internet cafe. It took a couple of hours, and once he found what he was looking for, paid for a couple hours internet time, a cup of hot tea, and some pastries. He didn’t dare dip into his money belt, this wasn’t the best place to flash any type of cash around. The small bills in his wallet were the best way to go.
Quinn booted up his computer and downloaded a free word processing program and sought to think of ways to make money, to try to get himself out of the situation he was in. He also looked through several online trades, and their employment section. He knew, thought, that many of those jobs were often already taken, but it didn’t hurt looking and trying.
After a few minutes of drafting some kind of plan, Quinn went onto the dark net. He knew how to scrub the computer, and any trace of where he had been. Hacking had helped to get him exactly where he was now, but it came so easy and he knew how he could make money quickly, though it always left him with a bad feeling. Blowing out a deep breath, Quinn got out of TOR and shut down his computer. He wasn’t going to go there. He may have few options at the moment, but he wasn’t going to steal.
Finishing his pastries and tea, Quinn left the cafe and walked. He was lost in his head when he found himself in a posh neighborhood. He looked around and could honestly say that he didn’t know where the hell he was. He had been just walking for hours, no direction in mind at all. Taking a deep breath, he slid down the wall of a pub. Putting his backpack in front of him Quinn felt the plan he had written out was doomed from the start. For one thing, he would need a job, which was where he needed to start. Laying his head on his knees, he tried to reign in the depression he felt was starting to overtake him.
Quinn didn’t know how long he stayed where he was and it wasn’t until someone startled him out of his morbid thoughts that he looked up to see two men looking down at him. Fear flooded him as he gripped his bag hard, hoping they weren’t there to hurt him.
“What do you want?” He didn’t even try to hide the harshness in his voice.
“What’s your name son.” The taller bald man asked.
“Why should I give you my name. I know what you want, what you all want. Does a damn name even matter?” Quinn didn’t try to hide the venom in his voice as he curled in on himself.
“Son, I can assure you that we are not looking for anything from you. My name is Merlin, and my partner here is Harry. We saw you sitting here almost all day, and Harry was wondering if we could help you in any way.”
Quinn looked up at a kind face, with kind eyes, but still felt wary. Standing up, Quinn put the backpack in front of him as a shield.
“When’s the last time you had a proper meal?” The man named Harry asked.
Quinn frowned and shrugged his shoulders. The pastries had been hours before, Quinn having lost all sense of time.
“Come on then, a meal, a pint and we’ll talk.” Harry held Merlin’s hand as he smiled softly at Quinn. He contemplated for a moment and thought, what the hell, the place was crowded, and if these two tried anything there would be witnesses. Nodding his head, Harry waved a hand and let Quinn go in first. He felt a little skittish going in, the place was a little more posh than what he was used to as of late.
Finding a table wasn’t as hard as it originally looked from the outside, the pub was fairly deep and had open booths towards the back where it was less noisy from the wall of telly’s at the front. A game was on, but Quinn could care less of who or what was playing. He slid into a booth, and Harry and Merlin sat across from him.
“How long have you been out there young man?” Harry asked with a calm, almost gentlemanly demeanor. Quinn looked the man up and down, well as much as he could see, and the suit that he was wearing cost more than he had made prostituting in the last two days. Merlin was equally well put out. He knew they had money and it made Quinn a little uncomfortable.
“A few weeks.”
“You look like someone who should be at Uni. Can I ask why you’re on the streets?” Merlin asked as a waitress came up to their table. Harry and Merlin both ordered pints, Quinn’s face flushed as he ordered tea. He wanted to be as clear headed as possible. The waitress left supper menus for all three before bouncing away to get their drink order.
Quinn took a sip of the water that was left for them to clear his throat and give him a moment to decide how to answer the two men. He thought that maybe honesty was best.
“I was kicked out. The headmaster caught me hacking on the school servers. My mum and dad were…angry is not the word I’d use. I was thrown out of school so they considered me a disgrace. They also revoked my scholarship to go to Byron House in the summer. It would have been my first session.”
Quinn felt humiliation rise and he just wanted to run and hide.
“How old are you?” Swallowing, he waited to answer till after the waitress left their drinks. She said she would come back in a few and take their food orders.
“Eighteen, I’ll be nineteen in a couple of months.” Quinn didn’t know why he was confessing all of this, other than he knew he needed help, and a lot of it.
“Young man, will you now tell us your name?” Harry asked as he leaned forward a little.
“Quincey Antillus Bannerman. I go by Quinn.”
“Bannerman…Elizabeth and Cornelius Bannerman?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Quinn said as he looked down at the table. Shame flooded through him as he thought of the parents that didn’t exactly act like they had ever wanted a son. When they realized just how smart Quinn was, he became the thing they liked to show off and brag about. When he found hacking, it was an escape, a way to say fuck off to the parents that tried to treat him like some kind of robot.
Quinn sipped at his tea as his hands shook. The men across from him hadn’t said a word, but looked like they were in a quiet discussion. Quinn kept his face buried in the menu, trying to decide what he wanted to eat as his stomach growled.
When the waitress came back he looked up at her and smiled.
“I’ll have the bubble and squeak,” Quinn ordered and put his menu to the side.
“We’ll have the sausage rolls and a plate of the poutine with the lobster.” Harry ordered. “And two more pints.” Merlin just smiled. Quinn watched them for a few moments, it didn’t take long for him to work out who was the dominant, and who was the…less dominant? Merlin certainly didn’t act submissive, but he did defer to Harry. Quinn was having a hard time determining their dynamic.
“I’m the Dominant, Quinn. Merlin is a Swing.”
“Oh…” Quinn blushed hard and didn’t know how to respond to that at all.