Mycroft Holmes was exhausted. He was tired of his brother constantly ducking his security detail, tired of the world trying to get itself blown up, and most of all, tired of always being forced to be in charge. He wanted so badly for things to be different. That was why he'd come here, tonight.
It was dangerous to pick up random men. He'd always been aware of that, but he had always been careful before. And maybe he decided, that had been part of the problem. He was too careful—he always picked those who were under his control, or might as well be, and while the sex satisfied him on one level, it didn't even touch him on the level he needed most. And that was why he'd been experiencing a sexual dry spell, which had only contributed to his frustration.
He'd been referred to the club by his assistant. It catered only to people on the right side of the law, and was frequented most often by men and women in the government, or in law enforcement. As long as Mycroft kept his head down and did what he was told, he wouldn't be Mycroft, but a nameless submissive. And that was what he expected, right up until he walked in, was assigned a room, and saw the man in the room with him.
Mycroft blinked in shock. Gregory Lestrade? Dressed in black leather pants and vest, with a spiked cuff wrapped around his right wrist, he stood staring at the fire roaring in the fire place, completely at ease. When he turned and looked at Mycroft, he raised an eyebrow, but then a quite frankly dark smile formed on his face, and Mycroft felt shivers travel up and down his spine.
Remembering himself, and realizing that staring was not what he was supposed to be doing, Mycroft dropped his gaze to the ground, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. This was difficult for him, so difficult, but it was also… a strangely welcome feeling.
"Well, well, well. This is quite a surprise. A very welcome one, at that." Lestrade walked over, then slowly circled around him, predatory as a shark. That smile stayed on his face and Mycroft felt himself trembling ever so slight when he observed it from the corner of his eye. Knowing better than to respond to the comment considering it wasn't a question, Mycroft kept his mouth shut.
"Tell me, have you done this before?" Mycroft wondered if it was a rhetorical question, but decided to answer just in case. It wasn't as if punishment would be all that unwelcome, from this devastatingly attractive, undeniably dominant man.
"No, sir." He was surprised that his voice didn't waver, so caught up in the moment was he, but Mycroft was pleased by it anyway.
"Do you know what is expected of you as a submissive, pet? I will not ask you this again. There are others in this club who are willing to switch roles, but I am not one of them. In this room, I am in charge, and any form of disobedience will be met with any punishment I see fit to deliver."
"Yes, master." The term surprised him, and it must have surprised Lestrade, too, because he paused before responding again.
"Oh, I quite like that. Normally, Subs don't refer to their Doms as 'master' unless the arrangement is permanent. You do know that, don't you, pet?" Greg grabbed Mycroft's chin and forced him to look up at him, wanting eye contact. He got it, for about a moment, before Mycroft's gaze slipped downward once again.
"Yes, master. I am aware." His voice did shake ever so slightly now, both because of the unexpected eye contact and the realization that he wanted to be this man's submissive, and only his. He'd come here hoping to find a partner who could give him what he needed, and so far, Gregory fulfilled every single one of his expectations.
"Are you looking for a permanent partner, my pet? Do you want to be claimed on a more permanent basis than just this one night?"
"Yes, sir." The words were a mere whisper now, and Greg grinned, leaning forward and flicking his tongue over Mycroft's pulse. The younger man shivered in reaction, and Greg growled low, nipping lightly before beginning to suck, gently at first and then more roughly, finishing it with a sharp bite that made Mycroft whimper.
"Are you certain of this, pet? Once you choose me, there is no going back. If I claim you, I own you in this room, and I will have you whenever and however I like. And if you choose to be mine, and I choose to claim you, that will be true whenever I summon you to my side. When we are alone, you will submit to me."
"I accept this, master." Mycroft murmured, and Greg grinned a little more broadly, closing a hand around the back of Mycroft's neck and looking at him intently. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he released him, walking over to the nightstand and producing a strip of silk.
"I prefer to bind my submissives with silk. Don't move." First, Greg tied his wrists in front of him, then he paused as if contemplating something. Mycroft didn't comment, even though he was tempted to ask what he was thinking about. For some reason, his normal deduction skills, even better than Sherlock's, were malfunctioning.
"I'm going to cover your eyes. I normally don't, with Subs that are new to me, but I have a feeling that we both need this. Move over to the bed and sit down for me." Mycroft complied with the order instantly, crossing the room and sitting as swiftly as possible. Greg chuckled, the sound low and pleasant.
"I forgot; take off your trousers and pants." It wasn't a question, But Mycroft hesitated momentarily, shoving down his need to take control in favor of undoing his trouser button. Then he frowned, realizing that, with his wrists bound together, he couldn't actually remove his trousers, between the belt and his inability to shove them down his hips.
"Having trouble there, pet?" When Mycroft bit his lip and nodded, Lestrade came over with a strip of black silk, gesturing for him to spin around. Mycroft did so. Greg tied the silk over his eyes then spun him back around manually, his hands going down to do what the politician hadn't been able to. Mycroft inhaled sharply when he felt those fingers brush over the bulge in the front of his trousers. It was surprising, how aroused he was by the fact that for once, he wasn't in charge. It was a wonderful feeling.
"I'm taking your shirt off, which means I will be untying your wrists. I will tie them immediately afterward." After delivering those clear instructions Greg did as exactly what he'd said, and Mycroft stood bound and naked before him, head bowed despite the blindfold. Greg glided fingers over him extremely gently, barely trailing his fingertips over pale, exposed flesh. Mycroft started out extremely stiff, but eventually relaxed, even moving a little bit into the fleeting caresses as if trying to prolong them.
"You're starting to descend into subspace, pet. That's very good. You're being very good for me, and I believe you've earned a reward. Sit down on the bed." Mycroft did so, waiting patiently even though his shaft was beginning to throb in earnest. He forced himself to ignore it, knowing that it was not his place to make a request.
"Spread your legs." The demand made him bite his lip, but he complied, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had before.
"Now, pet, open your mouth." Mycroft was surprised, but he knew what was coming by the command alone. At least, he thought he did. He could have sworn he heard Lestrade dropping his leather pants while he'd been giving commands, yet it was Greg's mouth that met his, for a long, slow kiss. By the kiss, they might have been on a date, except that Greg quickly dominated it, nipping Mycroft's lower lip hard enough to draw blood before sucking at it, enjoying the coppery taste. After that he drew back.
"So good for me, pet. I might just keep you after all. But first, I have to find out if you can keep it up. Open your mouth again."
Greg slid his cock into Mycroft's open mouth, which instantly closed around him to suck. A hand cupped the back of Mycroft's head, holding him still while Lestrade slowly fucked his mouth, giving him time to get used to it before making the younger man take him deeper, until he was having to fight his gag reflex. Eventually, he found a rhythm, breathing between thrusts so he wouldn't have difficulty staying conscious. It went on for several minutes at a gradual pace, until Lestrade pulled out.
"I enjoy fucking your pretty mouth. You're such a good cock slut for me. Move back on the bed now, and put your hands above your head."
Greg waited until Mycroft was arranged as specified before climbing onto the bed between his legs. Mycroft was extremely vulnerable like this, and it was extremely sexy. Lestrade was a little amazed that Mycroft was such a natural at this, but it sort of made sense. He would have needed to exert absolute control in his everyday life. It made sense that sometimes, he would want to not be the one always in charge, and not always be the strong one. It was arousing to think that this man, who pretty much ran the government, was giving himself completely into Greg's care.
Without warning him, Greg put Mycroft's legs over his shoulders and thrust inside him, earning a cry of pleasure/pain that only made it harder to stop to let the other man get used to him.
"I don't like using bottled lubes. When I take you, in most cases your saliva will be the lube, and if you don't suck me to my satisfaction, it will hurt. You have been very good tonight, so I will let you adjust. Let me know when you are ready to continue, but understand that once I start, I will not stop until I come inside you. I will not be gentle, and I will not be patient. It has been far too long since I have had a Sub worth taking, and I want you to belong to me completely."
"I'm ready, master. Please…" Mycroft gasped the words out as soon as Greg was done talking, because even though he was still incredibly tight, and even though it still hurt, he needed to feel this man's pleasure, and to know that his surrender was the cause of it. Submission was the hardest thing Mycroft had to offer, but he'd come here, knowing what he needed, and it was all his, if he could only let himself embrace it completely.
"Please what?" Greg said, earning a soft moan from the man beneath him.
"Please, master, fuck me. Take me as hard and fast as you want, sir, please, please, please…" To see Mycroft reduced to whimpering and begging was bliss, and Greg had to close his eyes and take a breath so he didn't come inside him right then and there. But no, he wanted to make this last, wanted to enjoy every minute of this and give Mycroft the release he needed so that he would come back for more, again and again. He was perfect, and he was Greg's.
Deciding it was time, Greg began to move, using hard, fast thrusts that had Mycroft's fingers twisting around the bedframe because he needed to hold onto something as Lestrade pounded into him mercilessly, setting a punishing rhythm that earned high, keening little sounds from the politician that was coming apart beneath him.
"Let go, pet. I want you to scream for me when I fuck you to orgasm, but you aren't going to come until I tell you to."
"Master, please…" Mycroft practically sobbed the words, desperate to come but aware that disobeying could lose him this man for good. And he needed this too much. As much as a Sub belonged to a Dom, if the relationship extended beyond a one night stand, the Dom also belonged to the Sub. And Mycroft knew that this man was his, no matter that he was the one offering total submission.
"Did I tell you that you could speak, my little cock slut? Do I have to punish you?" The words were a feral growl in his ear, and it was excruciatingly difficult to form the words he knew he needed to say.
"N-n-no, m-master."
"No to which question, pet?"
"The f-f-f-first question, master."
"Does that mean you think you deserve punishment, Mycroft?"
"If you th-think I should be p-p-punished, master, then yes…" The words surprised both of them, and Greg slowed, his own heart beating hard and fast as he heard, in Mycroft's stutters, a complete loss of control. This man belonged completely to him, and he would make sure it stayed that way.
"I'm asking you, pet. Do you think you deserve punishment?"
"Yes, please, master, whatever you want, just please, please… I need… please…" Mycroft was a mess, completely given over to the irrefutable lure of submission, and he knew that babbling was probably not the best way to respond, but somehow couldn't help it. Gone was the suave, sophisticated politician who manipulated nations with simple words. He was a perfect submissive now.
"Please what, Mycroft? Be articulate."
Taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself, Mycroft hurriedly got the words out so he wouldn't stutter.
"Punish me, master, but please, don't stop fucking me."
Greg grinned wickedly, though Mycroft couldn't see it. This was perfection, but Greg knew his self-control was nearly at an end.
"You beg so prettily, pet. Very well. You have my permission to come as soon as I do, but if you come before me, you'll receive a second punishment. Let's get going then, shall we?"
Without any warning, Lestrade began to fuck him hard again, earning cries, sobs, and additional friction as Mycroft clamped down tightly on him, the pleasure almost overriding his need to comply with the directions he'd been given.
In the end, Mycroft made it, but only just barely, and only because of one particularly hard thrust that had Mycroft screaming loudly and throwing his head back, the contraction of his inner muscles too much for Greg to resist. A second after Greg came inside him, Mycroft was coming all over their abdomens, and Lestrade continued to move inside him for a full minute, milking out every last bit of pleasure for both of them.
Once he was able to move, Gregory sat up, untying the blindfold and tossing the silk to the side after helping Mycroft sit up. The other man appeared boneless, his eyes unfocused and his expression lax. The orgasm had thrown him deep into subspace, and Greg wondered how long it would take him to come back from that. In the meantime, he decided to see how far his need to submit went.
"Go get a towel from the bathroom and clean us off, then toss it in the hamper and come back." The redhead complied, despite the curious exhaustion that had settled over him, the blurriness in his brain making him too deliriously happy to do anything but follow the orders. This, of course, was what he'd needed. A way to shut his brain off and just… exist. He stood by the bed when he was done, head bowed, and waited for his next instruction.
"You spoke without permission, and for that, I will punish you. But I will do it tomorrow. For now, get into bed with me, and come here." Greg tugged Mycroft into his arms, the younger man's head on his shoulder while he stroked a hand down his back, soothing him. Mycroft cuddled in, relieved that it seemed that the DI still wanted him around, and relieved that he finally felt tired.
It was difficult to sleep when you were responsible for the running of a country, and not just because of the demanding work hours and the other idiotic politicians he was constantly running around picking up after like naughty children who couldn't keep their hands out of the toy box. It was also the fact that his every decision could mean the deaths of others, and had on more than one occasion. That made dreaming a terrible experience, and as a result, he slept only when he had to.
Tonight, though, he knew his sleep would be dreamless. He was wrung out by pleasure, and as he slipped into sleep, the last thing he heard was Lestrade's low, gruff chuckle.
"Oh, yes, my pet. I am definitely keeping you. Your submission is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. And I shall never let you go."