I don't even know, you guys. It's the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep and I really wanted to write kinky Mystrade smut and I wanted to see if I could do a whole scene in less than a thousand words and somehow that turned into this. Sorry (not sorry).
Mycroft tugged against the ropes binding his arms together wrists-to-elbows behind his back, but the restraints had no give. Not that he'd expected any. He'd already tested the ankle cuffs holding his legs spread over the smooth surface of the kitchen table and had similar results. The position held him wide open, naked arse in the air, and there was nothing he could do about it. An involuntary whimper escaped around the ring gag.
"Hush," Greg scolded, barely looking up from his paperwork. "Almost done with this page, then I'll come touch you again."
Mycroft whimpered again, slightly louder this time, and settled in to wait. They'd been at this for ages now - felt like hours, watching Greg cover form after form with his untidy chicken-scratch handwriting, but Mycroft's internal clock had gone offline at the same moment Greg had manhandled him face-first onto the table, stripped off his bespoke suit in practiced, efficient movements, and tied him down. Which had been about ten seconds after Mycroft walked in the door to their flat.
Greg never gave warning, never needed to - somewhere along the line, they'd settled into their respective roles without ever actually debating it. Outside the flat, Mycroft's current position involved being a "minor functionary in the British government." Inside it, his position involved his legs splayed, his cock smashed flat against the cold marble surface, and the heavy hook in his arse being tied by a short line to the two hooks on either side of the ring gag. The line gave him a choice - arch his spine to a painful degree, or pull the thick hook deeper into his arse while simultaneously yanking the gag deeper into his mouth, choking him. The ring gag let him breathe normally, but drool was now running freely from where the hooks bit into his cheeks like a bridle.
"Next page." Greg finally put down his pen and picked up another paper clip. Mycroft sucked in a gasp, tensing, but Greg just rubbed a soothing hand over his shoulder. "Relax, Myc. Four more pages to go. Tell me again why we're doing this."
"Ah enhun ah oh aoh." The gag made the words all but unintelligible, but Greg nodded anyway.
"You infringed on my job - that's right. You overstepped, and now you're helping me with the extra paperwork you created. You've got five pages already - this is six." He slid the paper clip over the corner of the just-finished page and held it up for Mycroft to inspect. Not that Mycroft was in any state to be making judgements on Greg's work, but by now it felt like a private ritual between the two of them. Mycroft nodded as far as he could within the limits of his restraints.
"Right." Greg stroked Mycroft's shoulder one more time, then eased him forward slightly. Mycroft's head and shoulders were already hanging over the edge of the table, just far enough for his nipple clamps to dangle freely. Greg flicked the chain between them with his finger, and Mycroft groaned.
"Hey, no complaining. You brought this on yourself." Greg plucked the gag line smartly, sending a long vibration through both the hooks in Mycroft's cheeks and the hook in his arse and causing him to arch his back almost double in surprise. Greg then hung the freshly-clipped sheet carefully on the nipple chain, where it joined the five others already there. The added weight should have been negligible, but Mycroft could feel it tugging. He fought the instinct to recoil, to curl up on himself - he'd only made that mistake once, with the first sheet of paper. The tug of the hooks had brought tears to his eyes. Even now, the slight movements of his body caused each sheet to twist and shift against the edge of the table, slowly turning the nagging ache in his nipples into a full-on fire.
"Beautiful," Greg breathed, his eyes roving over Mycroft's naked body. He was still completely dressed in his everyday work clothes, but the sensible trousers didn't fully cover his obvious erection. Mycroft fixed his gaze on that bulge and tried not to think about how long four more pages would take. Four pages, and then Greg would put down his pen for good. He'd unzip his trousers and pull out his neglected cock and shove it into Mycroft's wet, warm mouth. The ring gag would keep Mycroft from being able to fight it, from being able to even pull away, from being anything but a receptacle for when Greg was ready to come in thick, heavy spurts all over his soft palate or his lips or his exposed throat. He'd fuck Mycroft's mouth as hard and fast as he wanted and Mycroft would be stuck there helpless, ready to be used. And maybe, if Mycroft was very lucky, Greg would grab the other end of his arse hook and wiggle it around inside him until Mycroft couldn't take it anymore and rutted frantically against the table and made a mess of himself all over the hard marble. If not, he'd run his fingernails lightly all over Mycroft's body until he cried in frustration and then untie him and forbid him to come and pretend the whole thing never happened.
Four more pages.