Staring into the distance, Mycroft detected a three-storied stone house with a full-length porch. Each window had deep red curtains, beyond which lights glowed warmly.

"I'm going to blindfold you now," Gregory said, reaching into his pocket. "Please kneel."

Mycroft moved off the seat and knelt on the floor. He gazed up at Gregory, who caressed his cheek.

"One last time before the car stops. You're sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. If you think this will help me, then yes. I trust you implicitly."

"You understand that you may be touched, and sometimes rather intimately? And you will not be disrespectful. If something makes you uneasy, you use the signal we agreed on."

"Yes."

"Show me the signal again, please."

Mycroft raised his cuffed hands and crossed the first and second fingers on the right one.

"Good." Gregory smiled before tying a length of black silk around his head. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Mycroft sat back on his heels and dropped his hands into his lap again. Deprived of sight, his other senses magnified. Polished leather, car shampoo, and Burberry cologne flooded his nostrils, and the soft creak of leather as Gregory shifted on the seat made him shiver. He felt vulnerable but said nothing. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy.

Lestrade must have figured it out, because warm hands clasped his shoulders. Mycroft bowed his head until his brow touched the other man's knees, and let the dual contact soothe him.

He was also turned on, although he kept it hidden. He and Gregory had an active and adventurous sex life, but this- handcuffs, blindfolds, gentle dominance and total submission- was different. They'd always played as equals between the sheets, even when Lestrade was spanking him or pinning his wrists while fucking him into the mattress. That had all been rough stimulation, nothing more. Here, in this car, his will was being taken gently away from him. Was that a kink he didn't know he had? How else could he explain the way the blood roared in his ears and his skin flushed as he knelt on that floor?

The car stopped. Mycroft sat up straight and listened carefully as the driver exited the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door. Wet night air whooshed in, along with the sound of three people approaching.

A man spoke. Mycroft identified his accent as Swiss German. "Good to see you again, Greg."

"Likewise, Hans. How did your son's knee surgery go?"

"Very well, thank you for asking." A pause. "So this is Mycroft?"

Mycroft bristled. He almost snapped, "It's Mr. Holmes to you." Gregory squeezed his shoulder and he remained silent.

"Yes. As you can imagine, this is a bit of a challenge for him."

"It always is the first time." Hans came closer. "Hello, Mycroft."

He raised his chin and turned his face in the other man's direction. "Hello," he responded, proud of how dignified he sounded despite being blindfolded and handcuffed.

Hans chuckled. "Greg, please- come in. We'll talk more in the study. Gerard and Paulo will get him settled. Your rooms are ready."

Mycroft blinked in surprise. Rooms? So they weren't going to be sleeping together?

"Certainly." Lestrade leaned forward. "Myc, you won't be seeing me for the rest of the night. You know what I expect from you."

Mycroft nodded. He started to lick his dry lips, but Gregory cupped his face and kissed him. "I'll be in the same house, remember, and thinking of you constantly. Make me- and yourself- proud."

"I will."

Then Lestrade was gone and two sets of strong but careful hands were assisting him out of the car. One of them pried the umbrella from his grasp and said politely, "This will be returned to you when you leave."

Mycroft heard the snick and whoosh of another umbrella opening –his own brolly made no such noise, being a sword in disguise- and suddenly he was insulated against the downpour. His escorts led him down a gravel pathway and up three stone steps. A door creaked open, and they all stepped into the house.

Mycroft remained still while the two men put the umbrellas away and removed their wet coats. He could hear voices in an adjoining room, but had no time to focus on them before he was propelled down a series of corridors and into a room with a tiled floor. His nostrils flared: he could smell soap, dried flowers, freshly laundered fabric- a bathroom?

The hands fell away from his arms. Someone unlocked and took off his handcuffs. He massaged his wrists automatically, only to freeze when one of the men said, "Your clothes will be removed now. Please stay in place."