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Mycroft Holmes had never been one for doing things by halves.
As a young boy, Mycroft decided that he wanted to work for the government. Politics and economics were fascinating to him, and even though Mycroft was gifted in many ways (as most Holmes men and women tended to be) he decided that pulling strings and playing with people would be a most fulfilling kind of occupation.
And so, even though he so dearly loved to pretend otherwise, he became the British government - or as close to that as one could possibly be.
As a young man, in the hospital, sitting by his younger brother's pale and skinny frame, Mycroft promised himself he'd protect Sherlock no matter the cost. Mycroft was, after all, his big brother and older siblings had to look out for their younger ones - especially ones as brilliantly idiotic as Sherlock.
Thus, Mycroft started to watch over Sherlock's every step, using cameras, bugs, blackmail, intimidation and any other means necessary to assure that his brother would not bring harm to himself again.
As a man in the prime of life, now comfortably settled into his role as puppet master and protector, Mycroft met Doctor John Watson and realised, quite surprisingly, that he wanted to know and own every single millimeter of the other man, wanted to possess his very existence.
Luckily, John Watson hadn't minded that at all and proved that he was far from dull by accepting not one, but two Holmes men into his life - one as his best friend and one as his purely dominant partner.
Not six months into their quite unconventional relationship, however, Mycroft realised that John and he did not seem to be on the same level when it came to the very matter of their partnership.
Because, while John seemed to enjoy the idea of their power exchange, the fact of being owned and dictated so thoroughly by another person, he seemed to live under the misapprehension that things should stop as soon as the public was involved.
At first, Mycroft had thought John simply needed his time to adjust, and Mycroft had been quite willing to give it to him. Mycroft loved him too much to force or pressure him into something he clearly wasn't ready to do yet.
So Mycroft restrained himself, wouldn't make John openly display the tokens of ownership Mycroft had provided him with, wouldn't use his authority when other people were around. For the first few months, the dynamics of their relationship only truly seemed to be displayed in the bedroom.
But Mycroft Holmes had never been satisfied with compromises, not when he could have the proper thing.
And so, after half a year of patient waiting and analysing, Mycroft decided that enough was quite enough. On a rainy afternoon, Mycroft ushered John into one of the many black cars at his disposal, arranged to have them both brought to his house in Outer London and settled down in the parlour to have a quite overdue conversation.
"You're joking, right?"
Mycroft had never been able to truly understand just why John was so very fascinating, so very addicting, when nearly everything about him screamed ordinary.
Like now, John's reaction to Mycroft's proposal, so very normal, so very predictable. Facial expression: immediately defensive. Shoulders: slightly hunched, apprehensive. Hands: trembling, but not from excitement; the first sign of slowly building anger.
It took all of Mycroft's self-control to keep himself from showing his distaste. As much as he loved John, he could really be so frustratingly average.
"When have you ever seen me be anything but perfectly serious when it comes to our relationship?" Mycroft replied, voice calm and steady.
John's frown only grew deeper.
"Never," John admitted grudgingly, but hurried to add: "Excuse me, though, when the only explanation I have for your... for your suggestion... is that you are having me on. You cannot be serious!"
With anybody else, Mycroft would have despaired over their lack of intellect. John, however, was far from stupid. Quite a perceptive man, really, when he wanted to be.
Right now, though, his mind was clouded by pride and a false sense of modesty, unable to see beyond the surface of the matter. Had he been dealing with Sherlock, Mycroft might have tutted at such immature behaviour.
"I'm very serious, John. Please sit down, your pacing is adding nothing but disturbance to our conversation."
John, however, was slowly working himself into a state of stubborn anger, only increasing the pace of his agitated steps. Mycroft had half a mind telling him not to ruin the very expensive carpet with the soles of his twenty-pound shoes.
"I am not sitting down, Mycroft. I want you to explain to me why you would... why I should..."
Clearly, this was going nowhere. Sitting up a bit straighter in his armchair, Mycroft lowered his voice just so, adding a sharp edge when he spoke up.
"I said: sit down, John."
Mycroft's tone of voice cut through John's agitation like a knife. Before he even knew what he was doing, John was sinking into the chair across from Mycroft, only realising what he had done once it was too late.
Unwilling to declare defeat just yet, John quickly crossed his arms and glared at Mycroft, who smiled inwardly over his first small victory of the day.
John was submissive by nature. It had taken Sherlock but five minutes to figure that out (and blatantly use it to his advantage, ordering John about as he pleased), and Mycroft was not beyond using John's compliance himself whenever it was needed. Unlike Sherlock, however, Mycroft actually had such an arrangement with John.
And six months of employed dominance had left their mark. By now, John's trust and devotion went far beyond making a conscious decision to submit and comply. Instead, he now tended to react before thinking about it, trusting Mycroft to make the right decisions, knowing that Mycroft would never use that power to harm John.
Mycroft had consciously refrained from using his influence outside the privacy of their bedroom and shared living space. Enough, however, was really enough. It was time to make the last move, to make this, for the lack of a better word, official.
"Thank you," Mycroft said, knowing that to John, it would sound like the way too familiar good boy. Taking in John's reflexive swallowing and his slightly lowered lashes, Mycroft knew he was right. "Now, I understand that you are surprised, but this is not how we usually deal with things, is it?"
Mycroft kept his voice just authoritative enough to make sure John would listen properly. He did, after all, want this to be a mutual decision, even though there was hardly anything equal about their relationship.
"No," John agreed, voice and face much more subdued then before, but still confident enough to assure Mycroft that he was making up his own mind instead of blindly following Mycroft's lead. "However, I thought we were happy with what he have." A pause; a flash of worry. "You are happy, aren't you?"
"Of course, John, no need to fret," Mycroft immediately replied, tone soothing. Sometimes, John could be as insecure as he could be stubborn. "Our relationship makes me very happy, rest assured. However," and Mycroft could see John tense in his seat, "I'm not fully satisfied with all the aspects of our current arrangement."
John stared at him, clearly trying to think this over instead of giving into another emotional reaction, something Mycroft was quite pleased about.
"So," John eventually stated. "You want us to go public."
Mycroft allowed himself a little smile.
"Exactly."
John considered this for a bit, seemingly trying to wrap his mind about this issue in a way that wouldn't make him start another argument.
"And that would - satisfy you, yes?"
Mycroft nodded, carefully choosing his next words.
"It would, John. Very much so. However, I am also quite positive that it would bring you much more enjoyment than our current relationship ever could."
John's face promptly shifted to show a curious mix of scepticism and embarrassment.
"Mycroft, I - don't get me wrong, I'm not ashamed of what we have, really, I'm not. I enjoy it very much." He was blushing slightly again, clearly remembering rather explicit scenes of their time together. "But I don't... I can't... I'm not ready to be your - your property for everyone to see. You know what people will think. They wouldn't understand! God, what would they say, Mycroft? I could never show my face in public again, I couldn't talk to anybody without feeling utterly humiliated..."
He was working himself up again, Mycroft realised, panic of being rejected by his friends and old doubts overcoming what, deep down, he knew he wanted. Needed, really.
It was time to intervene.
In the blink of an eye, Mycroft had gotten up and moved to John's side, placing one hand on his shoulder while the other came to firmly clasp John's chin.
"But don't you want that, John?"
Mycroft's voice had gone low and smooth as honey, every syllable its own little tool of seduction as it penetrated John's ears. It didn't take an overly perceptive person to see that John was instantly aroused.
"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, hm? About wearing your collar in public? Me, putting it around your neck, in front of everybody you know?"
The hand on John's shoulder had moved and Mycroft's thumb was now tracing a line around John's neck where only the night before, the familiar softness of a leather collar had rested against the slightly tanned skin. John's breath hitched, his pulse increasing rapidly.
"I'd tell you to kneel, right there, with everybody watching, and you would do it," Mycroft continued, mouth close to John's ear now. "Good boy, I'd say and you'd be so very embarrassed, but thankful for the praise. Oh, but what would Detective Inspector Lestrade think if he saw how much that arouses you? How about your friends from the army, your fellow soldiers? Dear Bill Murray?"
Mycroft's grip around John's chin tightened ever so slightly, blatantly screaming ownership and John let out a small, desperate moan that went right to Mycroft's crotch. This, however, wasn't about him, so he diligently ignored it.
"Would they be intrigued or disgusted if I made you open my fly with your teeth?" he asked instead. "Would they be shocked if they could see how eager you'd be to do it, how desperate to swallow my cock? How you would squirm and beg for it, even?"
By now, John's breathing had gone ragged, eyes wide and desperate as the alluring pictures were planted in his mind. Mycroft lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper, preparing to play the ultimate card.
"How would you feel about Sherlock watching you swallow and gag for every. last. inch."
John let out a pitiful whimper, closing his eyes as he suppressed a wanton sob.
"You know you want everyone to see, to know that you are being owned," Mycroft murmured, slowly moving the hand that had been tracing John's neck downwards. "You want them to see what a wanton little slut you can be. John Watson, so desperate for cock. You would let me take you right there, would you not? I could use your mouth, I could make you spread your legs. You would beg me to take you harder, faster, any way I like. And they would be watching, all of them, John, watching you fall apart."
With his last words, Mycroft pressed his palm roughly against John's crotch, feeling the other man's arousal hard and hot against his skin, giving it a couple of perfectly-timed rubs and squeezes.
Just like that, John came, fully dressed as he was.
"Shhh," Mycroft soothed him at once, placing a loving kiss against John's temple as the other man moaned and whimpered and shook, flushed with the shock of orgasm and obvious embarrassment. "No need to be ashamed. You're fine. I know what you need, John, that's why I am here, right?"
John nodded frantically, trying to turn his head to hide his face in the crook of Mycroft's neck. Mycroft, however, was firmly keeping John's face in place. There would be no hiding once they would do this in public.
"We'll start tomorrow," Mycroft said, carefully stroking the darkening spot on John's trousers, feeling John's cock soften slowly. "I'll make sure you'll enjoy yourself. Doesn't that sound good to you?"
Very slowly, still trembling, John nodded his consent.
"Perfect," Mycroft whispered and bit John's earlobe in reward.