“Don’t call me that.”
"Why not?" Silva looked over his sunglasses at the man sitting at his yacht’s bar.
"You called Sévérine that, it’s…unsettling."
"Well, what should I call you?”
"James, if you must."
Silva scoffed, “Perhaps you would prefer Mister Bond.”
Bond smirked. “There’s a certain ring to it.” He breathed deep the salt air. “Not like Commander Bond, but…”
Silva’s pupils dilated and he sprang out from behind the bar.
"Shut up," Silva ordered. He grabbed Bond’s lapels, manoeuvring them both down onto a deck chair. "Commander,” he purred. “Shut up and fuck me.”
Whoo, I successfully wrote two days in a row like I promised! I also promised @warrioromen not to make him cry two days in a row, and he requested this prompt :-*
(I hope you enjoy my headcanonical Navy kink of Silva’s. It will probably come up a few more times :D)