Fic: Fulfilled. Lestrade/Mycroft, NC17
Title: Fulfilled
Author: Elf
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Summary: For a prompt on the Kink Meme. Lestrade stuffed with anal beads.
Warnings: PWP. Explicit sex. Bondage. Slight powerplay.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Lestrade's muscles were quivering. His body was shining with sweat.
Mycroft sat back, brushing a feather from the fine cloth of his trousers. He picked up a heavy crystal tumbler and took a delicate sip of the amber liquid within. He made a satisfied noise, and Lestrade had no idea whether it was for the alcohol or for the scene he was surveying.
A rustle and click announced Mycroft consulting the fob watch, which lived in his waistcoat pocket. "Time for another, I think?"
It wasn't a question, never mind the way Mycroft said it as if he were offering Lestrade a beer.
He fussed with his shirtsleeves for a second. They were rolled up, neat and businesslike, but far more casual than anyone would expect to see. Not that anyone apart from Lestrade ever did.
Lestrade let out a choked back moan as Mycroft slid two fingers through the sturdy plastic ring that lay on the fine cotton sheets and gave it the gentlest of tugs.
The beads stuffed inside Lestrade's arse were pulled back against the muscle of his inner sphincter. Not enough to be pulled free. Just enough to remind him how full he was.
"N...no, I can't, I..."
Mycroft tutted. Clicking his tongue on his teeth and shaking his head. "Always so modest, Gregory. Downplaying your talents. It won't get you anywhere in this world, you know."
Mycroft's hand slid up from between Lestrade's legs quick as a flash. It was covered in slick lube, and he wrapped his fist around the head of Lestrade's cock. Lestrade couldn't help it, he bucked into the tight, slick tunnel, and as he did Mycroft tugged just a little harder on the string of the beads.
"Fu..." the word died on Lestrade's lips. The flash of pleasure - both the hand and the large plastic bead sliding free of his body - were gone in a second. Mycroft's hand back on the bed, the bead dangling free like a ridiculous tail.
Lestrade flopped back to the bed.
His muscles shook from the strain, the confusion.
He didn't dare to move as he felt one delicate finger trace around his hole, wet and cold. But he knew his body was betraying him. He could feel his sphincter clenching and relaxing as Mycroft touched so lightly.
"Positively begging for more," Mycroft murmured, and Lestrade felt the cold, slippery bead being pressed back inside him.
He felt full. He was sure there was no way the last, largest, bead would fit inside him. It was an odd feeling - not entirely pleasure, not just from the toy. That came from knowing it was Mycroft doing this to him. The anticipation. Mycroft was masterful when it came to teasing, allowing the pleasure to grow and grow with no hint of when it might peak.
"Mmmm." Mycroft sounded approving as the bead slid out of view. He waited a beat, then tugged it back out again slowly - too slowly, and Lestrade writhed as it stretched him open. "Oh yes. Entirely satisfactory," he murmured, as if contemplating a tasty meal, or well cut suit.
He repeated the action. The slow, press in, until Lestrade's body opened and consumed the bead, then the steady, torturous pull out.
Until finally the bead stayed where it was, snug, the pressure enough that Lestrade could never forget that there were now six beads inside him. Hard plastic with a slightly soft coating, all slick, all pressing together, moving whenever he did.
He knew they contained weights. He could feel every time he tried to roll or shift as they jostled and moved.
Then, finally, there was a new pressure. Colder. Bigger. The last ball, which had so far dangled free, now covered in lube and being held against him. No pressure, yet. Just a gentle twisting and turning. Spreading the slick lubricant between his arse cheeks. Reminding him just how large it was. Bigger than the girth of Mycroft's cock - which wasn't small itself.
"Yes, I think that will be perfect," Mycroft said, as if to himself.
Cool liquid dribbled down over Lestrade's bollocks, and he wriggled again. Everything was so sensitive. His cock was so hard it seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. The solid silver cock ring heavy at its base, his balls taut where they were pushed out from his body. The wet trickle continued down his arse crack, where Mycroft span the final bead through it, ensuring there was plenty spread about.
And then the pressure began. Lestrade tried to move away, but although his restraints were loose enough to allow for a little movement - enough for him to writhe and thrust and twist, they would never allow him any escape.
"Oh, lovely," Mycroft said. "Still tight, even though you're so full." He moved the ball away, letting it hang down, the weight just gently pulling on the next ball along - the one inside Lestrade.
Mycroft traced a finger up and down Lestrade's crack, paying special attention to his hole. His fingertip slid inside easily, and he nudged the beads, pushing them in a little further.
Lestrade jumped, trying to wriggle away, but finding he was on the limit of his restraints already. He felt Mycroft's hand move away again, and the cold hard plastic was back, pushing against his flesh. He tried to relax, and felt Mycroft's arm encircle his thigh, the fine cotton of the shirt like a gentle breeze on his skin. And then Mycroft's slick palm was slowly rubbing down the underside of his cock.
"Yes, relax for me. You know you can take it. You'll be so full, but I know you're quite capable."
Lestrade did his best. A deep, shuddering breath, that just made the pressure deep inside him all the more intense, and he closed his eyes, focussing on allowing every muscle to loosen. He could feel the silky slide, the stretch as his sphincter was forced to keep expanding as the final ball opened him wide. Then, suddenly, the bead was through and his body seemed to suck it inside. He heard and felt the gush of Mycroft's breath as he watched it disappear.
"Well done," Mycroft pressed a kiss against Lestrade's thigh. "Now squeeze for me. Let me see...yes." The final word ended in a hiss as Lestrade tightened his muscles, the action sending a jolt of pleasure deep inside him.
"You cannot comprehend how beautiful you look, my dear," Mycroft sat back in his chair, delicately washing his hands in the fine china bowl beside him and drying them on a towel. "I think some reward is in order."
Lestrade finally opened his eyes again.
Mycroft waited for a long moment before standing and walking to the nearby cabinet. Lestrade heard the gentle clink of glass and allowed himself a moment to just stare at the ceiling and breath.
Mycroft returned, standing over him, and put a glass out of his sight on the bedside cabinet. The other he sipped from, as he looked Lestrade up and down, taking in the line of every muscle, the way the sweat on his body had darkened the hair on his chest and stomach.
"I should take a picture," Mycroft said, his voice low. "So I may look upon such perfection whenever I choose."
Lestrade didn't answer, just gave a slight huff of amusement.
"Now, for your treat," Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed, about level with where Lestrade's legs were encased in padded leather cuffs just below his knees, suspended from the ceiling. Matching cuffs surrounded his ankles further down, keeping his shins parallel with the bed, legs wide.
Mycroft reached back and when he brought his hand back into view he was cupping something in his palm.
Lestrade knew better than to ask. He lay still, watching as the hand hovered above his chest. Then tipped.
Ice chips rained down onto his body, sliding across his skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Mycroft quickly slid his hand over some, catching them and making two small mounds over Lestrade's nipples. Then he dragged more down and onto Lestrade's stomach.
Lestrade arched into the cold, then tried to shrink away as the hand went lower and lower, until Mycroft slid a tight fist around his cock. The ice was melted, but Mycroft's skin was wet and freezing, and it was almost painful on Lestrade's straining flesh. The ring made his erection feel so hot and heavy, and the sudden shock of cold threw his body into confusion.
He let out a choked sound that tailed off into a hiss of pleasure or pain - he wasn't sure which.
Mycroft immediately let go, drawing his hand back up, collecting the remaining chips from Lestrade's chest, brushing over his aching, cold nipples, and finally slid his hand softly over Lestrade's face, cooling and soothing the lines of confusion, pushing the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead back into wet spikes. "So beautiful," he whispered, and bent to place a kiss on Lestrade's lips. Chaste and quick, just enough to taste the sweat and feel the soft skin surrounded by harsh stubble.
He picked up the glass and delicately placed a couple of chips of ice between Lestrade's lips, watching as they melted and Lestrade's tongue slid out to collect the water.
"So very beautiful," he finally stood back up, once more looking down at Lestrade's body - the taut muscles, the contrast of thick black leather strap against pale skin, the way Lestrade's eyes were pools of black, so dark and so deep they seemed bottomless as he stared up at Mycroft.
He allowed himself to smile as he thought about the night which lay ahead of them. Sipping his drink, he slid his free hand into his pocket, relaxed, looking upon Lestrade as he would a fine sculpture - a priceless work of art.
Then he flicked his thumb over a small control in his pocket. No other movement or change of expression gave any clue as to what he might have done.
Lestrade's brow creased for a second, then his eyes widened, and he shifted, lifting his hips slightly, the strain through his legs obvious, and breath rushed from his body.
"Myc...Mycroft....what...."
Mycroft sipped more of his drink, watching as the muscles and tendons of Lestrade's legs shifted and tightened. The way his hands curled into fists, trapped in their bonds. His cock twitched, although the movement was slow and gorgeously heavy, the ring glinting around the taut, flushed skin.
Lestrade tried to wriggle away from the new feeling. It was a low vibration, barely there, like an itch he desperately needed to scratch, deep inside himself.
It was very rare he could come from prostate massage alone, but they both knew it drove him wild - into a begging mess of need. And this was worse, this indirect vibration, teasing him and gentle and just not quite enough.
He tightened his muscles, feeling them quivering with the strain, trying to get more of the sensation, trying to refocus it. He guessed it must be one of the balls in the middle of the string, but they were so tightly crammed into him they were all transmitting the tantalising movement.
"Yes, that's right, work for it," Mycroft said. "You know there's more, if you can just find the right spot. You know there is."
Lestrade whimpered, wishing he could squeeze his thighs together, could curl up around the feeling and have it own his body. But splayed out as he was, the leather strong and unyielding, he could do nothing but squirm and breath and clench his muscles.
"Whoever knew such desperation would increase your beauty so?" Mycroft said. "Now, what do you want?"
"More," Lestrade answered without hesitation. "More, you, just...anything, please."
"Anything?" It was clear by Mycroft's tone that the answer pleased him. He took another sip of his drink, flicked the control again, and licked his lips as Lestrade jolted at the shock.
Mycroft wondered if he'd be able to feel the stronger vibration, if he were to rest against Lestrade's abdomen. He had to find out, so sat on the edge of the bed again and slid his hand, warm and dry, over Lestrade's belly. Lestrade's cock seemed to strain toward his hand, begging for contact. Mycroft ignored it, but did drag a finger over his balls, spreading around the lubricant, the gentle pressure of one fingertip exploring. He slid the pad of his finger around the silver ring, feeling the warmth of it.
Realising Lestrade had frozen, only slight tremors running through him, he smiled. They both knew that if Lestrade moved now - tried to take advantage by thrusting against Mycroft - he would only end up suffering for it.
Mycroft found that sort of self-control incredibly attractive. He enjoyed pushing and pushing to see just how far Lestrade could extend it. To know that Lestrade trusted him to be in a position of total power made his chest ache with love.
Mycroft slowly, gently, wrapped his hand around Lestrade's cock. Nowhere near enough pressure for satisfaction. He moved it up and down, brushing the hot skin. Lestrade's hips twitched, and Mycroft had to close his eyes for a moment to ensure he kept control of himself as Lestrade's buttocks clenched and a shudder ran through his entire body. Mycroft could only imagine the feeling of being stuffed so full of the vibrating balls.
"Please, please, Mycroft," Lestrade's voice was rough and husky with need.
"No, no, I think not yet," Mycroft didn't stop the movement, slow and languid. "I'm certain you can last a little longer."
He slid the small switch around once more, to it's highest setting, and watched with satisfaction as Lestrade writhed, twisting as far as his restraints would allow, mouth open, but no words forming on his panted breaths.
"Please, please," he finally managed. "Mycro..." and he gave in, thrusting up into Mycroft's fist, desperate for more.
Mycroft removed his hand altogether, and Lestrade whimpered, hips still jerking, trying to find contact again.
Mycroft stood and carefully washed his hands once more. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat, hanging it neatly on the back of his chair. His shirt followed, cuff links carefully placed aside. He studied Lestrade as he removed his own clothing, watching the shivers, the muscles clenching and relaxing, the sweat beading on Lestrade's body.
Once Mycroft's trousers and underwear were also neatly placed aside he walked to the bed, his own cock standing out, hard, from his body, swaying as he walked.
He dropped a pillow to the floor, knelt on it, and bowed his head, licking his lips, bestowing a gentle kiss on the tip of Lestrade's erection, and then sliding his mouth down the hot, rigid flesh.
Lestrade let out a long moan, and his hands fisted into the sheets above his head.
Mycroft sucked him down, tongue playing over the underside of his cock, lips forming a perfect ring of suction, and gently grazed the skin with his teeth. One of his hands found the sturdy ring on the end of the beads, the other lightly traced down to where the cord disappeared into Lestrade's body. He slid the tip of his finger just inside, onto up to the second knuckle, twisting and turning it as he sucked and licked.
He knew Lestrade was fast approaching sensory overload, so he slid a second finger in to join the first, and dipped his head even lower.
Lestrade's body could barely keep up with the sensations bombarding him. The snug warmth of the leather straps, the cool of Mycroft's breath gusting across his lube-slicked flesh, the heat of Mycroft's mouth as it surrounded his cock, tongue sliding over the most sensitive spots, and then the pure pleasure of his hole being teased and stretched.
He could feel his orgasm building deep inside - and it felt as if he'd been on the edge for hours, as the tickling, itching need of the vibrations began to coalesce into the heat and pressure and indescribable bliss, made all the better by the anticipation.
His cock felt as if it would burst, the combination of the ring and his fast-approaching orgasm combining as he thrust into Mycroft's mouth. He arched his head back, eyes closed, and images assaulted his mind - of him, of them, of Mycroft, of how they must look, now, and he was coming so hard his hearing faded away...and then Mycroft's fingers left him and the slippery pull of the string was there for a moment before his sphincter was stretched wide again, the beads spilling from him, each one another jolt of pleasure that was so close to too much. He felt tears in his eyes as he was overwhelmed, and he just couldn't stop, even though he was sure that he couldn't possibly still be spurting come down Mycroft's throat, that now his cock was so sensitive it was almost torture even though Mycroft was no longer moving. The bead that was still vibrating hit the ring of muscle, and Lestrade knew that Mycroft would know that, would be counting, and the slide of it as Mycroft only pulled so very, very gently and slowly, made his body jerk again, and he had no idea if it was to get more or less of the sensation.
Then finally, finally he was empty, his hole still twitching, and he could feel the cool of Mycroft's breath as he moved away, softening cock slipping free of Mycroft's perfect lips, cool air seeming to reach so far inside him as his muscles didn't know what to do.
The bed dipped slightly, and his left calf was cradled against a strong arm, skin brushing over Mycroft's slightly hairy chest, dream-like, unreal. His leg was gently lowered to the bed, the leather cuffs still on, but now freed from the restraints in the ceiling.
His right leg followed and he was gently, reverently, rolled to his side, knees still bent, almost foetal in position.
His hearing was slowly returning - first the sound of his own heartbeat, loud in his ears, then the gentle hum of Mycroft's voice, soothing and calm, saying nothing - endearments, reassurances, just noise that told him he was safe.
He felt Mycroft slide onto the bed behind him, felt an arm wrap around his middle, the hand sliding up, over his chest, along his arms to gently trace around the restraints still securing his wrists.
"There," Mycroft's voice rumbled - Lestrade could feel it where Mycroft's chest was pressed to his back as much as he could hear it.
The hand moved again, sliding back down, down his side, over his hip, around his buttock. Then it disappeared, replaced by the slight pressure as Mycroft slid his cock into Lestrade, one smooth movement; Lestrade's hole easily relaxed enough to take it.
Once Mycroft was in, pressed against Lestrade as tight as possible, he stopped, forehead resting on the back of Lestrade's shoulder.
"Oh my. I really...how you feel is indescribable," Mycroft whispered, pulling back before gently, slowly, pushing all the way in again, a last little thrust at the end just managing to ignite a tiny ember of pleasure within Lestrade. "How tight you feel to me, knowing how full you must have felt when stuffed with those beads. You're amazing, amazing, and so utterly perfect, I could never ask for more." As he spoke the pace of his movements increased, but only slightly, and his hand slid back onto Lestrade's hip, holding him steady.
Mycroft loved nothing more than when Lestrade was so pliant, so sated, that his body seemed entirely there for Mycroft's own pleasure. He loved the way Lestrade's limbs were heavy, his pulse still thumping from his own massive orgasm. The heat radiating from him was enormous, and he barely twitched even when Mycroft kissed his neck - usually so ticklish and sensitive.
Mycroft closed his eyes, breathing Lestrade's scent, lips resting against the smooth skin of his shoulder, fingers just digging in slightly to the soft flesh where leg met torso as he pulled Lestrade back in counterpoint to his thrusts.
Imagining the beads, the ring, the restraints that Lestrade wore, the complete trust in allowing his body to be so used, was enough for Mycroft to feel his own release building deep inside. He drew out further, until the head of his cock was snug behind the strong rings of muscles, then slammed back in, hearing the breath rush out of Lestrade, and it was the start - the beginning of the end, the sprint to the line. Mycroft's hips moved unbidden, the slap of skin on skin and the need to just get inside Lestrade as far as possible all building and growing until he was snapping his hips at the end of each stroke for the extra jolt of pleasure, and then coming deep inside his lover, panting and gripping and wringing every last drop of pleasure from his body.
And finally stilling, apart from thumping heart and heaving lungs, and sliding free, the final squeeze of muscles around the sensitive head of his cock almost too much, and rolling Lestrade over, freeing his wrists, seeing the gentle smile, the dark eyes so soft and sated.
Heavy, uncoordinated limbs tangled and slid over hot flesh, and lips missed and then found and pressed soft kisses to stubbled skin. Mycroft could feel the thick leather bands still surrounding Lestrade's wrists and legs, the warmth of the cuff and the cold shock of the heavy metal rings upon them.
"Thank you," Mycroft said, in a whisper.
Lestrade somehow managed to snuggle even closer and hug him even tighter. "God, I love you," he murmured, lips brushing Mycroft's, breath moist, eyes so close they seemed huge.
"As I love you, my darling," Mycroft replied.
And they closed their eyes, safe and warm and utterly exhausted.
~Fin
Author: Elf
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Summary: For a prompt on the Kink Meme. Lestrade stuffed with anal beads.
Warnings: PWP. Explicit sex. Bondage. Slight powerplay.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Lestrade's muscles were quivering. His body was shining with sweat.
Mycroft sat back, brushing a feather from the fine cloth of his trousers. He picked up a heavy crystal tumbler and took a delicate sip of the amber liquid within. He made a satisfied noise, and Lestrade had no idea whether it was for the alcohol or for the scene he was surveying.
A rustle and click announced Mycroft consulting the fob watch, which lived in his waistcoat pocket. "Time for another, I think?"
It wasn't a question, never mind the way Mycroft said it as if he were offering Lestrade a beer.
He fussed with his shirtsleeves for a second. They were rolled up, neat and businesslike, but far more casual than anyone would expect to see. Not that anyone apart from Lestrade ever did.
Lestrade let out a choked back moan as Mycroft slid two fingers through the sturdy plastic ring that lay on the fine cotton sheets and gave it the gentlest of tugs.
The beads stuffed inside Lestrade's arse were pulled back against the muscle of his inner sphincter. Not enough to be pulled free. Just enough to remind him how full he was.
"N...no, I can't, I..."
Mycroft tutted. Clicking his tongue on his teeth and shaking his head. "Always so modest, Gregory. Downplaying your talents. It won't get you anywhere in this world, you know."
Mycroft's hand slid up from between Lestrade's legs quick as a flash. It was covered in slick lube, and he wrapped his fist around the head of Lestrade's cock. Lestrade couldn't help it, he bucked into the tight, slick tunnel, and as he did Mycroft tugged just a little harder on the string of the beads.
"Fu..." the word died on Lestrade's lips. The flash of pleasure - both the hand and the large plastic bead sliding free of his body - were gone in a second. Mycroft's hand back on the bed, the bead dangling free like a ridiculous tail.
Lestrade flopped back to the bed.
His muscles shook from the strain, the confusion.
He didn't dare to move as he felt one delicate finger trace around his hole, wet and cold. But he knew his body was betraying him. He could feel his sphincter clenching and relaxing as Mycroft touched so lightly.
"Positively begging for more," Mycroft murmured, and Lestrade felt the cold, slippery bead being pressed back inside him.
He felt full. He was sure there was no way the last, largest, bead would fit inside him. It was an odd feeling - not entirely pleasure, not just from the toy. That came from knowing it was Mycroft doing this to him. The anticipation. Mycroft was masterful when it came to teasing, allowing the pleasure to grow and grow with no hint of when it might peak.
"Mmmm." Mycroft sounded approving as the bead slid out of view. He waited a beat, then tugged it back out again slowly - too slowly, and Lestrade writhed as it stretched him open. "Oh yes. Entirely satisfactory," he murmured, as if contemplating a tasty meal, or well cut suit.
He repeated the action. The slow, press in, until Lestrade's body opened and consumed the bead, then the steady, torturous pull out.
Until finally the bead stayed where it was, snug, the pressure enough that Lestrade could never forget that there were now six beads inside him. Hard plastic with a slightly soft coating, all slick, all pressing together, moving whenever he did.
He knew they contained weights. He could feel every time he tried to roll or shift as they jostled and moved.
Then, finally, there was a new pressure. Colder. Bigger. The last ball, which had so far dangled free, now covered in lube and being held against him. No pressure, yet. Just a gentle twisting and turning. Spreading the slick lubricant between his arse cheeks. Reminding him just how large it was. Bigger than the girth of Mycroft's cock - which wasn't small itself.
"Yes, I think that will be perfect," Mycroft said, as if to himself.
Cool liquid dribbled down over Lestrade's bollocks, and he wriggled again. Everything was so sensitive. His cock was so hard it seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. The solid silver cock ring heavy at its base, his balls taut where they were pushed out from his body. The wet trickle continued down his arse crack, where Mycroft span the final bead through it, ensuring there was plenty spread about.
And then the pressure began. Lestrade tried to move away, but although his restraints were loose enough to allow for a little movement - enough for him to writhe and thrust and twist, they would never allow him any escape.
"Oh, lovely," Mycroft said. "Still tight, even though you're so full." He moved the ball away, letting it hang down, the weight just gently pulling on the next ball along - the one inside Lestrade.
Mycroft traced a finger up and down Lestrade's crack, paying special attention to his hole. His fingertip slid inside easily, and he nudged the beads, pushing them in a little further.
Lestrade jumped, trying to wriggle away, but finding he was on the limit of his restraints already. He felt Mycroft's hand move away again, and the cold hard plastic was back, pushing against his flesh. He tried to relax, and felt Mycroft's arm encircle his thigh, the fine cotton of the shirt like a gentle breeze on his skin. And then Mycroft's slick palm was slowly rubbing down the underside of his cock.
"Yes, relax for me. You know you can take it. You'll be so full, but I know you're quite capable."
Lestrade did his best. A deep, shuddering breath, that just made the pressure deep inside him all the more intense, and he closed his eyes, focussing on allowing every muscle to loosen. He could feel the silky slide, the stretch as his sphincter was forced to keep expanding as the final ball opened him wide. Then, suddenly, the bead was through and his body seemed to suck it inside. He heard and felt the gush of Mycroft's breath as he watched it disappear.
"Well done," Mycroft pressed a kiss against Lestrade's thigh. "Now squeeze for me. Let me see...yes." The final word ended in a hiss as Lestrade tightened his muscles, the action sending a jolt of pleasure deep inside him.
"You cannot comprehend how beautiful you look, my dear," Mycroft sat back in his chair, delicately washing his hands in the fine china bowl beside him and drying them on a towel. "I think some reward is in order."
Lestrade finally opened his eyes again.
Mycroft waited for a long moment before standing and walking to the nearby cabinet. Lestrade heard the gentle clink of glass and allowed himself a moment to just stare at the ceiling and breath.
Mycroft returned, standing over him, and put a glass out of his sight on the bedside cabinet. The other he sipped from, as he looked Lestrade up and down, taking in the line of every muscle, the way the sweat on his body had darkened the hair on his chest and stomach.
"I should take a picture," Mycroft said, his voice low. "So I may look upon such perfection whenever I choose."
Lestrade didn't answer, just gave a slight huff of amusement.
"Now, for your treat," Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed, about level with where Lestrade's legs were encased in padded leather cuffs just below his knees, suspended from the ceiling. Matching cuffs surrounded his ankles further down, keeping his shins parallel with the bed, legs wide.
Mycroft reached back and when he brought his hand back into view he was cupping something in his palm.
Lestrade knew better than to ask. He lay still, watching as the hand hovered above his chest. Then tipped.
Ice chips rained down onto his body, sliding across his skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Mycroft quickly slid his hand over some, catching them and making two small mounds over Lestrade's nipples. Then he dragged more down and onto Lestrade's stomach.
Lestrade arched into the cold, then tried to shrink away as the hand went lower and lower, until Mycroft slid a tight fist around his cock. The ice was melted, but Mycroft's skin was wet and freezing, and it was almost painful on Lestrade's straining flesh. The ring made his erection feel so hot and heavy, and the sudden shock of cold threw his body into confusion.
He let out a choked sound that tailed off into a hiss of pleasure or pain - he wasn't sure which.
Mycroft immediately let go, drawing his hand back up, collecting the remaining chips from Lestrade's chest, brushing over his aching, cold nipples, and finally slid his hand softly over Lestrade's face, cooling and soothing the lines of confusion, pushing the sweaty hair stuck to his forehead back into wet spikes. "So beautiful," he whispered, and bent to place a kiss on Lestrade's lips. Chaste and quick, just enough to taste the sweat and feel the soft skin surrounded by harsh stubble.
He picked up the glass and delicately placed a couple of chips of ice between Lestrade's lips, watching as they melted and Lestrade's tongue slid out to collect the water.
"So very beautiful," he finally stood back up, once more looking down at Lestrade's body - the taut muscles, the contrast of thick black leather strap against pale skin, the way Lestrade's eyes were pools of black, so dark and so deep they seemed bottomless as he stared up at Mycroft.
He allowed himself to smile as he thought about the night which lay ahead of them. Sipping his drink, he slid his free hand into his pocket, relaxed, looking upon Lestrade as he would a fine sculpture - a priceless work of art.
Then he flicked his thumb over a small control in his pocket. No other movement or change of expression gave any clue as to what he might have done.
Lestrade's brow creased for a second, then his eyes widened, and he shifted, lifting his hips slightly, the strain through his legs obvious, and breath rushed from his body.
"Myc...Mycroft....what...."
Mycroft sipped more of his drink, watching as the muscles and tendons of Lestrade's legs shifted and tightened. The way his hands curled into fists, trapped in their bonds. His cock twitched, although the movement was slow and gorgeously heavy, the ring glinting around the taut, flushed skin.
Lestrade tried to wriggle away from the new feeling. It was a low vibration, barely there, like an itch he desperately needed to scratch, deep inside himself.
It was very rare he could come from prostate massage alone, but they both knew it drove him wild - into a begging mess of need. And this was worse, this indirect vibration, teasing him and gentle and just not quite enough.
He tightened his muscles, feeling them quivering with the strain, trying to get more of the sensation, trying to refocus it. He guessed it must be one of the balls in the middle of the string, but they were so tightly crammed into him they were all transmitting the tantalising movement.
"Yes, that's right, work for it," Mycroft said. "You know there's more, if you can just find the right spot. You know there is."
Lestrade whimpered, wishing he could squeeze his thighs together, could curl up around the feeling and have it own his body. But splayed out as he was, the leather strong and unyielding, he could do nothing but squirm and breath and clench his muscles.
"Whoever knew such desperation would increase your beauty so?" Mycroft said. "Now, what do you want?"
"More," Lestrade answered without hesitation. "More, you, just...anything, please."
"Anything?" It was clear by Mycroft's tone that the answer pleased him. He took another sip of his drink, flicked the control again, and licked his lips as Lestrade jolted at the shock.
Mycroft wondered if he'd be able to feel the stronger vibration, if he were to rest against Lestrade's abdomen. He had to find out, so sat on the edge of the bed again and slid his hand, warm and dry, over Lestrade's belly. Lestrade's cock seemed to strain toward his hand, begging for contact. Mycroft ignored it, but did drag a finger over his balls, spreading around the lubricant, the gentle pressure of one fingertip exploring. He slid the pad of his finger around the silver ring, feeling the warmth of it.
Realising Lestrade had frozen, only slight tremors running through him, he smiled. They both knew that if Lestrade moved now - tried to take advantage by thrusting against Mycroft - he would only end up suffering for it.
Mycroft found that sort of self-control incredibly attractive. He enjoyed pushing and pushing to see just how far Lestrade could extend it. To know that Lestrade trusted him to be in a position of total power made his chest ache with love.
Mycroft slowly, gently, wrapped his hand around Lestrade's cock. Nowhere near enough pressure for satisfaction. He moved it up and down, brushing the hot skin. Lestrade's hips twitched, and Mycroft had to close his eyes for a moment to ensure he kept control of himself as Lestrade's buttocks clenched and a shudder ran through his entire body. Mycroft could only imagine the feeling of being stuffed so full of the vibrating balls.
"Please, please, Mycroft," Lestrade's voice was rough and husky with need.
"No, no, I think not yet," Mycroft didn't stop the movement, slow and languid. "I'm certain you can last a little longer."
He slid the small switch around once more, to it's highest setting, and watched with satisfaction as Lestrade writhed, twisting as far as his restraints would allow, mouth open, but no words forming on his panted breaths.
"Please, please," he finally managed. "Mycro..." and he gave in, thrusting up into Mycroft's fist, desperate for more.
Mycroft removed his hand altogether, and Lestrade whimpered, hips still jerking, trying to find contact again.
Mycroft stood and carefully washed his hands once more. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat, hanging it neatly on the back of his chair. His shirt followed, cuff links carefully placed aside. He studied Lestrade as he removed his own clothing, watching the shivers, the muscles clenching and relaxing, the sweat beading on Lestrade's body.
Once Mycroft's trousers and underwear were also neatly placed aside he walked to the bed, his own cock standing out, hard, from his body, swaying as he walked.
He dropped a pillow to the floor, knelt on it, and bowed his head, licking his lips, bestowing a gentle kiss on the tip of Lestrade's erection, and then sliding his mouth down the hot, rigid flesh.
Lestrade let out a long moan, and his hands fisted into the sheets above his head.
Mycroft sucked him down, tongue playing over the underside of his cock, lips forming a perfect ring of suction, and gently grazed the skin with his teeth. One of his hands found the sturdy ring on the end of the beads, the other lightly traced down to where the cord disappeared into Lestrade's body. He slid the tip of his finger just inside, onto up to the second knuckle, twisting and turning it as he sucked and licked.
He knew Lestrade was fast approaching sensory overload, so he slid a second finger in to join the first, and dipped his head even lower.
Lestrade's body could barely keep up with the sensations bombarding him. The snug warmth of the leather straps, the cool of Mycroft's breath gusting across his lube-slicked flesh, the heat of Mycroft's mouth as it surrounded his cock, tongue sliding over the most sensitive spots, and then the pure pleasure of his hole being teased and stretched.
He could feel his orgasm building deep inside - and it felt as if he'd been on the edge for hours, as the tickling, itching need of the vibrations began to coalesce into the heat and pressure and indescribable bliss, made all the better by the anticipation.
His cock felt as if it would burst, the combination of the ring and his fast-approaching orgasm combining as he thrust into Mycroft's mouth. He arched his head back, eyes closed, and images assaulted his mind - of him, of them, of Mycroft, of how they must look, now, and he was coming so hard his hearing faded away...and then Mycroft's fingers left him and the slippery pull of the string was there for a moment before his sphincter was stretched wide again, the beads spilling from him, each one another jolt of pleasure that was so close to too much. He felt tears in his eyes as he was overwhelmed, and he just couldn't stop, even though he was sure that he couldn't possibly still be spurting come down Mycroft's throat, that now his cock was so sensitive it was almost torture even though Mycroft was no longer moving. The bead that was still vibrating hit the ring of muscle, and Lestrade knew that Mycroft would know that, would be counting, and the slide of it as Mycroft only pulled so very, very gently and slowly, made his body jerk again, and he had no idea if it was to get more or less of the sensation.
Then finally, finally he was empty, his hole still twitching, and he could feel the cool of Mycroft's breath as he moved away, softening cock slipping free of Mycroft's perfect lips, cool air seeming to reach so far inside him as his muscles didn't know what to do.
The bed dipped slightly, and his left calf was cradled against a strong arm, skin brushing over Mycroft's slightly hairy chest, dream-like, unreal. His leg was gently lowered to the bed, the leather cuffs still on, but now freed from the restraints in the ceiling.
His right leg followed and he was gently, reverently, rolled to his side, knees still bent, almost foetal in position.
His hearing was slowly returning - first the sound of his own heartbeat, loud in his ears, then the gentle hum of Mycroft's voice, soothing and calm, saying nothing - endearments, reassurances, just noise that told him he was safe.
He felt Mycroft slide onto the bed behind him, felt an arm wrap around his middle, the hand sliding up, over his chest, along his arms to gently trace around the restraints still securing his wrists.
"There," Mycroft's voice rumbled - Lestrade could feel it where Mycroft's chest was pressed to his back as much as he could hear it.
The hand moved again, sliding back down, down his side, over his hip, around his buttock. Then it disappeared, replaced by the slight pressure as Mycroft slid his cock into Lestrade, one smooth movement; Lestrade's hole easily relaxed enough to take it.
Once Mycroft was in, pressed against Lestrade as tight as possible, he stopped, forehead resting on the back of Lestrade's shoulder.
"Oh my. I really...how you feel is indescribable," Mycroft whispered, pulling back before gently, slowly, pushing all the way in again, a last little thrust at the end just managing to ignite a tiny ember of pleasure within Lestrade. "How tight you feel to me, knowing how full you must have felt when stuffed with those beads. You're amazing, amazing, and so utterly perfect, I could never ask for more." As he spoke the pace of his movements increased, but only slightly, and his hand slid back onto Lestrade's hip, holding him steady.
Mycroft loved nothing more than when Lestrade was so pliant, so sated, that his body seemed entirely there for Mycroft's own pleasure. He loved the way Lestrade's limbs were heavy, his pulse still thumping from his own massive orgasm. The heat radiating from him was enormous, and he barely twitched even when Mycroft kissed his neck - usually so ticklish and sensitive.
Mycroft closed his eyes, breathing Lestrade's scent, lips resting against the smooth skin of his shoulder, fingers just digging in slightly to the soft flesh where leg met torso as he pulled Lestrade back in counterpoint to his thrusts.
Imagining the beads, the ring, the restraints that Lestrade wore, the complete trust in allowing his body to be so used, was enough for Mycroft to feel his own release building deep inside. He drew out further, until the head of his cock was snug behind the strong rings of muscles, then slammed back in, hearing the breath rush out of Lestrade, and it was the start - the beginning of the end, the sprint to the line. Mycroft's hips moved unbidden, the slap of skin on skin and the need to just get inside Lestrade as far as possible all building and growing until he was snapping his hips at the end of each stroke for the extra jolt of pleasure, and then coming deep inside his lover, panting and gripping and wringing every last drop of pleasure from his body.
And finally stilling, apart from thumping heart and heaving lungs, and sliding free, the final squeeze of muscles around the sensitive head of his cock almost too much, and rolling Lestrade over, freeing his wrists, seeing the gentle smile, the dark eyes so soft and sated.
Heavy, uncoordinated limbs tangled and slid over hot flesh, and lips missed and then found and pressed soft kisses to stubbled skin. Mycroft could feel the thick leather bands still surrounding Lestrade's wrists and legs, the warmth of the cuff and the cold shock of the heavy metal rings upon them.
"Thank you," Mycroft said, in a whisper.
Lestrade somehow managed to snuggle even closer and hug him even tighter. "God, I love you," he murmured, lips brushing Mycroft's, breath moist, eyes so close they seemed huge.
"As I love you, my darling," Mycroft replied.
And they closed their eyes, safe and warm and utterly exhausted.
~Fin