Interlude – Mycroft's POV
It was the words that finally got to him…
Those cold words, spoken in the tongue of seduction, of sinful offerings, of self degrading things that the older man was willing to do… so he could put an end to their relationship…
Mycroft watched the entire scene with his own eyes, while taking in the tongue that licked his cock, and hearing the words being formed on those lips… he listened as the man he had… he had come to care for confessed to him what he was willing to lay on the bargaining table.
It was that moment Mycroft was finally able to admit to himself that whatever he shared with Gregory had nothing to do with love, affection, or even mutual enjoyment.
Gregory had initially offered one month - one month of being his personal whore with no limits whatsoever. And Mycroft had been stunned into silence.
Gregory obviously took his loss of words as a sign of disinterest; so he then upped it to two months. He didn't beg… but his eyes… those dark brown eyes did….
Mycroft wasn't sure exactly what he did… he must have flinched or something, which was probably being interpreted as disgust. It was then he found himself come face to face with Gregory's gun. The handsome man had dropped all act of seduction; his face was now cold and distant.
"Mr Holmes, I think it is time we stop this game of yours before things get out of hand." The man, who had been so passionate, so submissive, so willing to cater to his whims just a moment ago ceased to exist; in his place stood a man who was dangerous and unreadable. Not a good combination, Mycroft's own instinct warned him.
Gregory must have seen the look of uncertainly on his face, and laughed humourlessly, "Yes, the gun is loaded, in case you are wondering.
"Rich and powerful men like you all enjoy playing games. I saw enough of your type in my younger days. What I don't understand is what could possibly have drawn your attention to me in the first place. It couldn't have been my looks. " Gregory looked straight into his eyes; he seemed to be genuinely curious. "Was it because of my job, the thrill of dominating someone who has the means to retaliate, rather than some young and helpless things? Or was it amusing to see a copper falling back to his old profession, no matter how hard he has tried to turn his life around? Oh come on, don't pretend you didn't look me up. It must have taken you less a day to find out everything there is to know about Tony Fraser!"
For that, Mycroft had no defence. Because he did, even though he wished he hadn't done so.
If he was honest with himself, he had always known there was something not quite right. In the beginning, it had been nothing more than a gut feeling. He had lived long enough to know when to trust his instincts, but he chose to ignore it in this instance because he thought respecting each others' privacy and boundaries was an important part of any relationship.
He was naive in this particular area of human interaction, and he had so badly wanted this to work, so he respected Gregory's wishes. After all, he had developed feelings for Gregory Lestrade as the man he was today – honest, honourable, devoted and caring. His past was irrelevant. Plus, his partner had clearly showed his disinterest in delving back into his own past. He told him it was something that he had already dealt with and left behind.
Mycroft had never questioned him further, because he had always believed Gregory to be more than capable of holding his own. After all, this was the man who had been able to direct and influence Sherlock Holmes, capable of putting his foot down when required.
How could he be so wrong?
The signs had always been there if he were to think about them – Gregory's incredible tolerance to pain, his willingness to submit, especially considering his first sexual experience. And throughout the entire time they had spent together, the older man had never expressed any preference. He had accepted, indulged, yet had never demanded anything in return – because to him sex had always been about others' needs and pleasures, not his own. He had been trained to think this way all his life.
And yet, Mycroft overlooked all these signs because of his own stupid pride, because of his belief that everything was going well. He thought he had finally found the one, the person who understood him, who shared the same interests and needs as him. Everything was perfect in his eyes, so his mind had filtered out those warning signals. And the person he had come to care for deeply was paying for his imprudence.
Even after he had found about Tony Fraser, he had still held out the hope that Gregory was in the relationship with him because he had feelings for him as well. He knew he was pushing it when he asked for sex so soon after Gregory was released from the hospital. But he trusted the older man to know his own limits and use the safe word when necessary.
Except he never did.
The older man had never asked for him to stop, because to him, Mycroft was just another client, another David McDonnell, another man who had enough power to shatter the life he had worked so hard to build for himself. He was so used to be treated as nothing more than a fuck toy; a compliant whore that he wasn't capable of making objections.
"And no, I'm not going to shoot you. I'm not so stupid enough to think I could get away with such a thing, contrary to what you and your brother may think," Gregory said, as he pointed the gun to his own head.
Mycroft had wanted to act, to do anything to stop this insanity. But he simply couldn't. Gregory stopped him on his track with a heated glare, with a flick of finger the safety switch was off.
Gregory smiled, and asked him whether it excited him, whether he was becoming hard seeing a man who was about to end his own life like this; or perhaps the politician would prefer him to be on his hands and knees so he could use this gun to fuck him instead.
Mycroft bolted out of the door. He could no longer stand seeing the older man treating his own body like a bargaining chip, a piece of merchandise.
So for many, many days afterwards he immersed himself in work, alcohol and mindless sex.
Boys had been sent to his house, all young and beautiful, all willing to crawl on their knees to please him. Mycroft was attracted to their beautiful faces and bodies, and the glorious feeling of sexual release that had been fuelled by alcohol. They dulled the angry thoughts and sorrowful feelings that were constantly lingering in his brain. Life had become somewhat bearable. He was able to stop thinking about Gregory long enough to function in a professional capacity.
Until one night, he was woken by broken sobs. He opened his eyes and found a young boy being bounded to his bed post. A large dildo was forced into the body. It was vibrating so hard that his body quavered involuntarily. The boy was so hard, yet there was nothing he could do because his fully erect penis was tightly restrained by a cock ring. Mycroft had no idea how long the boy had been in this state. The caged organ was alarming hues of purple and red. The boy clearly was trying hard to hold back his instinctive struggles, to stay silent. His lower lip was already bleeding as he bit on it savagely to muffle his own cries.
Mycroft hurriedly released the boy. He grabbed his phone, wanting to get hold of his family doctor, only to find the boy clutching onto his legs, begging profoundly. He pleaded for mercy, blamed himself for not being able to endure, and condemned himself for being so weak. He promised to be good in the future, asked for another chance to prove his worth, again and again, until his voice ran raw.
There was so much fear and hopelessness in those eyes. Mycroft had finally understood why Gregory was never able to be honest with him, because he was a monster, just like the men who had used and abused him throughout the years.
TBC
