Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters: D.I. Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes
Summary: What do you get the British Government for his birthday? Greg thinks he's found the perfect gift...
Note: Originally written for and posted under this prompt on the kinkmeme.
The meal had been excellent, the drive home uneventful.
Mycroft closed the front door and followed Greg as he wandered through to the lounge. He had already had a highly pleasant birthday and now, with barely two hours of it remaining, Mycroft assumed the moment had come for Greg to bestow whatever gift he had decided on.
Mycroft had worked very hard to not find out what that was. He'd compromised with Greg and scaled back his monitoring of Greg's surveillance, not the surveillance itself. Mycroft's people always knew where Greg was even if Mycroft managed to resist the temptation to do so himself.
Greg turned to face him as Mycroft joined him in front of the fireplace. Mycroft noted the stiffness in his stance and hesitation in his voice. "I've... I've been thinking for months what I could possibly get you for your birthday. You're impossible to shop for, you know that?" Greg laughed nervously. "You have way better taste than me when it comes to clothes or wine or art or anything like that. You certainly don't need anything..." He dragged his hand through his hair. "Anyway... here." He thrust forward a small black velvet covered box and stuck his hands back into his trouser pockets.
He would be unlikely to get me a ring. Possibly cuff-links...
"Stop deducing it and just open it."
Mycroft pushed the lid up. The box had a cushion with a groove in it, as if for a ring, but instead it held... "A key?" Mycroft plucked the gleaming piece of silver metal out of the box and held it up in bemusement. "To your heart?" he asked.
Greg grinned. "Nah. Gave you that one ages ago. It's for this." He pulled his tie loose and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. When he pulled it open at the neck Mycroft could see a thin, dark brown strip of leather circling Greg's throat. The buckle had a small silver padlock securing it, resting just below his Adam's apple.
For the first time in many years, Mycroft was genuinely and completely surprised.
Greg took Mycroft's hand in his and curled Mycroft's fingers closed around the key. "I know this whole relationship thing is still very new to you. You're so used to being in control of everything but I never feel like you try to control me and I really appreciate that. I thought sometimes though, you might like to be allowed to, so, when I'm wearing this, you're in charge. No questions. You don't have to worry that you're taking advantage or anything. You own me - I'm all yours. It's the only thing I can give you that I know you can't get anywhere else - and I think is to your taste?" He lifted Mycroft's hand to his lips and kissed it.
Their eyes met and Mycroft could see the hint of doubt in Greg's. "Very much so," he reassured him.
"And you're not just being polite - it's something you really want?"
Mycroft's body was already well ahead of him in answering that one. His heart rate and temperature were up and his trousers seemed to be rather less spacious than they had been five minutes ago. "Passionately - if it truly wants to be given, that is," he added.
"I've never trusted anyone so much as you, Mycroft. Giving you this is easy."
Mycroft lifted the padlock from its resting place against Greg's skin. The metal was warm from its prolonged contact with Greg's body.
"You've been wearing this all evening," Mycroft observed. He felt a further surge of heat to his groin and realised he was slightly breathless.
Greg put his hands on Mycroft's waist and pulled their bodies close together. "Yeah. I was sure you were going to notice... 'member when I went to the loo before we left? Put it on then - and I got so hard thinking about showing it to you I almost had to have a quick toss right then and there."
Greg's accent had thickened and his voice was husky with arousal. Mycroft knew it was partly for his benefit. Greg loved playing his "bit of rough". Usually it signalled that Mycroft would be feeling a little sore the next morning but he could tell from the pressure of Greg's erection against his hip that the idea of Mycroft being the one in charge was just as exciting for him.
Mycroft tried to regain his calm exterior before speaking. "I want to see my gift properly."
Greg took off his watch and placed it on the mantelpiece. He fully unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it and his jacket off together before placing them over the back of a nearby chair, along with his tie. He put his hands on his belt buckle and looked at Mycroft expectantly.
Mycroft nodded. "Yes. Everything."
Greg kicked off his shoes before quickly dropping his trousers and boxers and stepping out of them. Last to go were his socks, leaving him completely naked except for the collar. He padded back across the carpet and stood in front of Mycroft again.
Mycroft took a long moment just to look him up and down. He never got tired of admiring Greg. Too much time at a desk recently had made him a little soft round the middle but chasing after criminals - and chasing after Sherlock - kept him in very good shape.
Greg clasped his hands together behind his back, pushing his chest out slightly. His cock was now fully erect, jutting out from the dark hair surrounding it. It was moderately thick but quite long and had a slight curve up toward Greg's stomach. Mycroft could see clear drops of pre-cum seeping from the tip and running down the underside of the shaft. On any other occasion he would have liked nothing more than to lean over and lick that up but he contented himself - for now - with dragging his fingers through Greg's thick chest hair.
"I don't recall ever being given anything quite so unique - or beautiful."
Greg chuckled. "Beautiful might be pushing it. Antique certainly..."
Mycroft put one finger to Greg's lips. "Shh. No talking. You are beautiful and I won't hear another word on the subject."
Greg smiled and kissed Mycroft's finger. When Mycroft left it on his lips he opened them and sucked the finger into his mouth.
Mycroft gasped and Greg's smile widened. He dipped his head and looked up submissively at Mycroft through his eyelashes as he sucked harder and ran his tongue slowly over and around Mycroft's finger.
Mycroft knew he had to regain control before he lost it completely. His finger made a small popping sound as it left Greg's mouth. It was one of the most obscene, filthy, erotic sounds Mycroft had ever heard. "Turn around."
Mycroft loosened his tie and looped it around Greg's wrists. "I understand in situations such as this it is common practice to employ a 'safe' word. If at any time you wish me to stop what I am doing then the word you should use..." Mycroft paused for a moment, considering, then smiled. "...is Hotspur." He tied Greg's hands securely but not too tightly.
Greg laughed. "You devious bugger."
"I believe the chances of such a passionate Arsenal supporter as yourself saying the name of their biggest rivals is sufficiently remote?"
"Too bloody right."
"Tut tut. Such a filthy mouth - and after he was told not to talk as well." Mycroft slapped Greg's backside then kneaded the red impression left by his palm. He put his other arm around Greg and firmly grasped his cock. He smeared the pre-cum over the tip with his thumb, using it as lubrication.
Greg groaned and let his head fall back onto Mycroft's shoulder.
"Are you sure this is my present?" Mycroft asked him.
"I like to think it's a win-win thing," Greg admitted.
Mycroft kissed Greg's neck. "You impossible man. Whatever am I going to do with you?"
"Anything you like."
"I don't think you quite appreciate the vast range of scenarios my mind is capable of."
"Appreciate?" Greg said. "I'm counting on them, love."
"Shh, no more talking." Mycroft pushed down on Greg's shoulders and he sank to his knees. Mycroft came round to stand in front of him. The sight of Greg naked and needy and on his knees made Mycroft's breath catch and a sharp spike of lust settled in the pit of his stomach.
Greg immediately leaned forward and started mouthing Mycroft's cock through the fabric of his trousers.
Mycroft grabbed at Greg's hair with both hands and pulled him backwards. "I do appreciate your enthusiasm, darling, but I still have 75 minutes of my birthday remaining and I plan to enjoy every last one of them. I won't last that long if you carry on like that."
"I won't turn into a pumpkin at midnight, Mycroft. This gift isn't just for today. I was hoping you'd want to use it quite often."
"It certainly seems it will take more than one occasion for you to learn what 'no talking' means. I could almost suspect you of being wilfully disobedient."
Greg gave him his best Who me? look but he could hardly have looked less innocent if he'd suddenly sprouted horns.
Mycroft started undoing his trousers with one hand. With the other, he ran his thumb along Greg's bottom lip. "I suppose I shall have to find something else for that beautiful mouth to do..."