He immediately, instinctively, reaches down for Alecto's hair, gloved fingers enabling him to get a steady, firm grip on the dark strands as he yanks hard, forceful, preventing Alecto from moving freely. "I know you're a cock-hungry slut, my pet," he says, his tone deceptively mild, his eyes alert for the slightest sign of unexpected discomfort or displeasure, "but I do expect you to wait for my orders."
He reaches his other hand down between his own legs to undo the fastenings on the silken underwear he is wearing, revealing his cock (so this was why M had picked this underwear - no, no, stop thinking about it stop thinking about it). He strokes up and down the length as he tugs it out into the open air of the car, the soft leather feeling incredible, unexpected, the texture slippery and soft on sensitive skin, already starting to darken with blood and circulation. He lets go after a moment, his cock bobbing almost invitingly between his legs, mere inches from Alecto's lips; his fingers tighten their hold on Alecto's hair, as if to make a point.
"I don't want you to suck me just yet, my pet." He continues. "I just want to see how deep you can take me, how deep I can get down your throat while you bury your face between my legs and wait obediently for my orders, like a good boy."
"Can you do that for me, my pet?" His hand in Alecto's hair is absolutely steady, with not even a hint of allowing movement.
“Nngh -!” His head is jerked back and he hisses against his teeth, helpless to do anything but watch and listen (he likes this. A lot. Points for Mr. Archer indeed). Josh’s words sting him in the most delicious of ways and the grip he has in his hair is so tight it makes Alecto tremble with pleasure. “Forgive me, master,” he says, carefully, purposefully soft and demure. His breath is warm against the wet head of Josh’s cock, now mostly hard and absolutely inviting. “I can be good. I promise.”
He lets out a little whimper (he knows Josh likes the sound, so here, he thinks, have a reward for playing this up so well) in assent before opening his mouth obediently, wide, tongue slack. He doesn’t move on his own, completely allowing himself to be at Josh’s mercy, handing to him that immense power directly.
He has to repress a shudder of reaction, his heart beating in doubletime at being allowed - even invited - to take such liberties with Alecto. He takes a breath, deceptively steady, not at all shaky, and adjusts his grip on Alecto's hair, using it as a handle to direct him, letting the head of his cock bump up against Alecto's bottom lip, the side of his mouth, even - for a brief, delicate moment - pressing against Alecto's teeth, as if to test his resolve to hold absolutely still and give himself over to Josh's direction, before he finally tugs him forward with near agonizing slowness, letting his length slide past Alecto's lips, resting on his tongue.
Soon enough, he starts to work up a rhythm, tugging Alecto back and forth as he feeds him ever increasing amounts of the length of his cock. He doesn't thrust forward, simply using the grip he has on Alecto's hair to direct him, back and forth, deeper and deeper, until he truly does have Josh's cock stuffed down his throat, his nose and chin pressed up again the smooth material of his underwear and the scratchier material of his tailored slacks.
"There's nothing to forgive, my pet," he whispers, glancing down at his face and trying to keep himself in check. Now that their roles for the moment seem to have been sufficiently established, his fingers loosen, carding lightly through Alecto's dark hair with bewitching gentleness, but able to tighten their grip at essentially any given moment.
He stays still and calm, letting Josh freely use him like some sort of plaything, just some toy with no other purpose other than to practically masturbate himself, reacting only slightly with the way his fingers claw at Josh’s thighs now and again, or the way he gags. In fact, he chokes several times, body twitching and jerking as his throat is forced open, forced to take more and more of Josh’s thick (fuck, it’s so big) shaft. When it’s finally all the way in, Alecto continually shakes with effort, breathing desperately through his nose in short little heaves. His scalp burns from the tugging and pulling. His lips sting from where they are forcefully stretched wide at the base of Josh, damp and warm from the constant friction. His eyes are pretty and misty with tears.
He glances up at Josh, able to see just a little bit of his face, looking for his reaction, trying to figure out his next move. What can he say, he’s curious. And…excited to find out what he’ll try to make them do next.
Alecto accidentally gulps on instinct at his own imagination and instantly struggles, the muscles of his throat revolting for just a second, creating an unintentional suction as he tries to force his gag reflex to calm back down. The collar around his neck doesn’t help matters: it feels extra tight now that his throat is shoved full of cock. He can taste nothing but Josh all around, mannish and musky. It contributes to the air of command he’s intent on expressing, coloring the atmosphere around them with a beautiful, suffocating pressure for obedience.
"If you make a mess, you'll have to clean it up, my pet," he murmurs, sounding coolly unconcerned and almost absent, as though his cock wasn't buried so deeply in Alecto's throat he could feel the slight constriction of the collar, the forceful stretch of the soft leather as Alecto deliberately relaxes to choke more of him down.
As though Josh wasn't on the verge of coming down Alecto's throat. As if Alecto was nothing but a vessel, a welcoming receptacle, a warm hole for Josh to use however as he pleased.
But he wanted only the tension of the act, not the lethargy of its messy aftermath, not before they'd completed the mission, and so he slowly - slowly - eases Alecto back off of his length, listening to the way he gasps and watching the way he struggles, tears in his lovely eyes, feeling the way he twitches and spasms around Josh, until only the very tip is resting in his mouth.
It's still a very close thing.
Everything about this was a very different experience from the schedule that Daniel and Thomas followed, but he could still draw on his familiarity with Alexto's - no, with Daniel's - preferences, limits, and sensitivities.
He loosens his grip on his hair, urges him to rest his cheek against Josh's thigh - he could pillow his face quite comfortably there, without being shoved into Josh's crotch, while still practically nursing on the head of Josh's cock.
"There we are, my pet," he whispers, fingers gently stroking through Alecto's hair, as if trying to soothe him to sleep. "I know you're so eager to taste me, you're such a lovely, cock-hungry whore, but we want to still have some fun later, don't we? That takes the edge off a little, doesn't it? You can keep my cock warm like this until we get there. I want you to rest so I can show you off properly, at your best."
Internally, he is fighting against the natural, physical instinct to thrust into warm wetness, a habit that had been built up with Alecto specifically over the past few months, the urge to just get things over with and chase immediate pleasure. But even in the dimness of the car, he can see the half-hard outline of Alecto's erection in those ridiculous leather shorts, and he has a feeling that it would be a necessary distraction when they arrived.
Besides, Alecto hadn't been sleeping well lately, if he ever did. In a secured vehicle, with nothing to do other than stay in character, they might as well try to catch a few moments of ease before the mission began in earnest.
Well, color him amazed at the way Josh is upping the ante in this character. I've taught him well, I suppose, Alecto thinks to himself as he nuzzles against Josh's leg, tonguing now and again at the head of his cock - playing slowly with the foreskin, licking at the slit - that still rests against his lips.
He folds himself gracefully to rest as instructed. He didn't anticipate to actually relax (when he's on the clock, Alecto is anything but) although the way Josh is stroking his hair back is so soothing that Alecto nearly does fall asleep for at least a few minutes at a time, and it's only by the feeling of a light tugging at the collar around his neck that eases him back awake. The car is slowing to a stop.
For the rest of the drive he leans back and tries to focus on the upcoming mission, reviewing the parameters and intel that had come with the briefing. He doesn't know yet what else Alecto knows that he might not, but he's grown used to the asymmetrical disposition of knowledge at this point. He clings to the cold hard facts, trying to keep himself from thinking too much about the warm wet heat of Alecto's mouth, the small, inevitable shifting of his lips and tongue around the head of Josh's cock, the way he seems to fully relax now and again, leaning against his thigh, bleeding warmth through the mesh shirt down Josh's leg. There are moments when he wonders wryly to himself why he voluntarily set himself up for this prolonged torture, but he manages to calm himself down enough during the long drive to be able to neatly tuck himself back into his slacks as the car stops and waits for instructions to pull into the discreet enclosed underground parking garage that served as the entrance to the club.
He tugs gently on the collar to get Alecto's attention, uncharacteristic for his persona for the evening, but very much in keeping with Joshua Archer.
"Still with me?" he asks - a perfectly neutral phrase, easy to fit into the three different worlds they are straddling tonight, before he shifts fully into the correct mindset again. "I'll leash you once we get inside."
Alecto meanwhile has been plotting. He's preparing himself for a variety of different conversations, events, accidents that could all happen very soon. He runs through different ways he'd react to being touched, pulled, demanded of. And what would happen if he instead resisted -
He decides to test it out now.
Lifting his gaze slowly, he purses his lips, a look of light defiance on his face. "I want to be leashed now, master."
Internally, Josh blinks, trying to apprise the situation, to figure out if this was a signal, if this was something that Alecto had been warned about while he had not been made aware.
But then he remembers Alecto's nonchalant insistence on being collared for almost the whole of the two hour drive, on falling immediately into their personas even within the relative safety of the car, when, really, it would have been much more practical for both of them to debrief together in that privacy and make proper plans, and some things click together suddenly in his mind. The enormity of the conclusion pulses through him, settles into his bones and muscles, and suddenly some of his own plans and assumptions for the evening take a decidedly different turn.
"Greedy," he replies out loud, sounding faintly displeased, hooking his gloved index finger in the metal loop where a leash would go, and tugging just hard enough for the pressure to be felt, without risking any damage or injury to such a delicate area. "I want the people in the club to watch the way you submit to me when I put the leash on you. For there to be no mistaking my claim on you, my pet."
He pauses, almost delicately, and then shifts his right foot, clad in exquisite Italian leather, between Alecto's legs, the tight leather shorts leaving next to nothing to the imagination as he deliberately puts gentle but insistent pressure on Alecto's cock with his foot, mostly quiescent right now.
"And I expect you to respond accordingly. Am I understood?"
(He'll make sure Josh gets an ample reward for doing his job so well, for going so above and beyond his calling. M will certainly be pleased too. Not that Alecto wants to think about M right now at all, fuck -)
Alecto groans, biting his bottom lip in a tempting, provocative way as his hips arch up against the leather shoe pressing down against his groin. His still semi-hard cock twitches with obvious delight in the tight confines of his ridiculous shorts. "Yes, master," he practically moans, "I understand. I'll behave."
He can't help but rub himself against Josh's foot, enjoying this unique pressure, just for a bit longer.
He subsides for the moment, letting go of the ring and resting his hand back on Alecto's head again, a softer counterpoint to the way his normally icily composed handler is practically rutting against him, rubbing against the barely-there touch of his foot between his legs, as if he were nothing more than an animal, seeking satisfaction from pure physical sensation, without thought.
He knows this is part of the persona, that Alecto is a quick, impossibly intelligent mind that could make connections and think circles around Josh when operating at his very best. But at the same time he seems to genuinely be deriving pleasure from this treatment, from the scenario, and however good it was for their cover, a part of Josh is also eager to give it to him for its own sake, simply because it was something he wanted, and that Josh could provide.
The car shifts slowly forward, as the driver makes the appropriate exchange of identification for their cover identities, and then skillfully pulls right up to the door leading to the private elevator that would take them up to the club, manned by two uniformed attendants, in addition to the checkpoint they had passed earlier. He can't even hear the music that must surely be playing, only feel the vibration of the bass; the walls must be very thick indeed. That was a lot of security for what was essentially a sex club, and Josh has to wonder, again, at how exactly M had managed to arrange their cover stories. Clientele for a place like this were sure to be rightfully paranoid, and there would be additional measures in place, some careful balance of security and privacy. He can see why their mark felt that conducting business in a place like this made sense. Josh reaches for the briefcase, checks himself over once more, and then nudges Alecto with his foot again.
"Let's go, my pet," he urges/commands, and the car door and the entrance open for both of them simultaneously, the attendant stationed there clearly examining both of them to ensure they matched the paperwork. He keeps his expression bored, entitled - used to the attention and understanding of procedure, but finding it all very much beneath a man of his calibre - and exchanges a glance with the stony-faced driver holding the door open, who tips his head in acknowledgement. So, he would wait here for them and drive them back when they were done.
He glances to the side at Alecto as they are escorted in to wait for the elevator, the surroundings gleaming bright and almost blindingly clean. The attendant had been scrupulous in not glancing at Alecto at all once he'd completed making the identification and then clocked the collar wrapped snugly around his neck - apparently part of the etiquette for this place; Josh adjusts his approach again, for when they start running into other people.
"We have one of the private rooms on the fifth level set aside for you already, sir," the attendant is saying, in respectful tones. "Per the request of your assistant, when you made the reservation."
What. What the fuck. How much money exactly was M blowing on this operation?
Outwardly, he nods in response and accepts the electronic card without blinking as the attendant asks if there's anything else they can do for him - well, for his cover identity.
"I was wondering if a certain party had already arrived," he asks, keeping his tone casual, referring to the mark. "If he has, could you please send him a drink, with my compliments, and let him know I'd be interested in a conversation with him in the," his hesitation is undetectable as he remembers his instructions, "second level lounge, at his leisure? If he hasn't, please pass on my invitation when he arrives." The attendant assures him that it would be taken care of, and then he and Alecto are alone in the elevator, the faintest echo of the music starting to leak in.
The coiled leash in his pocket seems to exert a far stronger gravity than its negligible weight. For a moment, he is tempted to renege, to leash Alecto right there in the elevator and stake an even more visible claim, a literal tether linking them together, but the well-trained attendant's careful adherence to some protocol on the sight of the collar alone reassures him slightly. From a strategic standpoint, he thinks that the gesture will be more helpful and impactful later on, in company. And Alecto seems fine with letting him take the lead, for the moment.
The elevator ride is smooth and fast, the doors opening into an elegant reception area in almost no time at all. It's only here that he first catches sight of other guests, milling about in conversation, drinks in hand, in appearance like any other fancy cocktail party, save for the attire of some of the attendees, dressed more like Alecto than like Josh, some of them kneeling or standing at attention, a few following other guests as they moved through the room (the terminology always varied, but he presumed they were equivalent to Alecto's assigned role for the night) a few respectful steps behind or on hands and knees, both on or off leashes, with all manner of interesting arrangements. There are uniformed staff sprinkled discreetly throughout, attending to the needs of the guests.
From a professional standpoint, he can appreciate the careful attention to detail. This was a single, defensible point of entry, fully monitored and within the control of the establishment; there had been no buttons for Josh to push to direct their course, only a scanner that the attendant downstairs had activated with a card. This elevator only traveled between the garage below and reception, with no other stops; there would be additional elevators and staircases elsewhere, given that the maps and promotional materials of the place that had been included in the mission briefing package had cited several floors, and M had apparently arranged a private space for them on the 5th level; he does not see the clientele for a place like this doing a lot of climbing, unless it was suitably dramatic. This room, the entryway, seemed relatively tame, could likely even be used as an event space for less objectionable activities, if it came down to it. But he can feel the vibration of the bass through the floor, and he's sure things won't be so staid, if they explore elsewhere in the building.
He tightens his grip on the suitcase, his thoughts running a little wild, but his demeanor is almost bored. He draws a few curious and interested stares; he assumes it's more about the suit and his attire than anything inherent to himself. Alecto draws many more, but most attempt to be circumspect, once they see the collar he is wearing and his proximity to Josh.
Well. They were meant to meet the target on the second level. They might as well scope it out first.
He doesn't glance back at Alecto, automatically assuming that he'd know better than Josh exactly how to silently project their presumed relationship to observers, and how closely to follow behind him to not draw attention. Or at least, to not draw the wrong kind of attention.
He recalls the layout from the map he'd memorized. The second level was something of a transition space - two stories' worth of seating, with drinks and dining, music, and even an event stage. The furniture would be arranged in clusters for ease of conversation, and it was more a place to see and be seen - or to be shown off - than for any particularly explicit activity. So it was exactly the kind of space that would support conversations like the one they were meant to have for the night. Beyond that, on the higher levels, there would be things catering to slightly more - sophisticated or specialized tastes - exhibitions and performances, even classes and demonstrations. Likely with some equivalent to 'the dungeons', in the common parlance, and small private stalls or rooms, with signups and timeslots - good for impromptu meetups or the informal arrangements based on chance introductions or expressions of interest.
The private rooms were beyond that on the fifth level - luxuriously appointed rooms set aside with guarantees of utmost discretion for those who could afford to pay handsomely for it, that could be fully customized on request. It wasn't outright stated, but the usual implication was that those rooms were for those who wanted privacy above all else - or for those whose tastes were more extreme again than the other levels could support. He has no idea what arrangements had been made for them, or what the expectation had been for the room's use, the keycard he'd been given settled securely in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, next to the slim wallet with a somewhat terrifying amount of cash that had come with his assigned attire, apparently a vital part of his cover identity.
The floor beneath them right now, based on the sound, was the dance floor.
He leads them both to another bank of elevators, nodding politely in response to a few greetings and appreciative gazes. They do not have the car to themselves this time, and he instinctively crowds Alecto against the wall, putting his back in the way of any stray gazes, his hand hooked possessively around his waist in lieu of a leash. But there is barely a moment to wait before the doors open again.
It's a lovely space, the lights set at the perfect level for visibility without being overly glaring. He finds a likely location, and finally settles down at an empty table nestled in a curved nook, his back against the wall while still affording him a commanding view of the space. He's not sure just yet what Alecto will do - while a lot of the subs he's seen so far have been standing or kneeling, there were also some sitting on the chairs and benches, or in the laps of their partners, laughing and giggling and kissing, again both on or off-leash. He hasn't yet managed to divine an etiquette or logic to the choice so far, and decides to leave it up to Alecto, for now.
He's alert for their mark - he'd memorized the photos they'd been given - but in the meantime he splits his attention between examining the room and keeping an eye on Alecto. They only have a few moments to themselves before they start being approached for small talk and chitchat, and a few veiled offers from interested parties. He knows that had been the point of their attire, that they needed to blend in with the other clientele, but even as he leans into his persona, making fast friends and teasing those who stop by their table. He's always been good at this part, finding acquaintances and allies in situations - not quite like this, but similar - projecting the appropriate level of warmth and interest to make them feel charitably towards him without over-promising; this part of the mission was easy, something he could do in his sleep.
In the back of his mind, he is unraveling a puzzle.
He didn't know the exact intel their target for the night had, only that it was important, and only that it had been deemed vital enough by M to go to all this trouble and considerable expense. There were very few matters that rose to that level, and all of the possibilities made Josh very very anxious.He mostly manages to translate the tension he feels into excitement and curiosity, but he's leaning on his old analyst experience to connect the profile of the mark - an (obviously) wealthy and connected founder of two separate international startups in the technology sector, specifically in information security - with the two types of information they've been asked to obtain.
The first, open transaction was a drive containing sensitive information that they'd commissioned him to steal and had promised payment for, for which they'd been given an incredible amount in diamonds in the suitcase Josh has tucked behind his leg, against the seat, in constant contact with his body - basically, their cover was corporate espionage, a relatively easy exchange based on greed and opportunity. The second, more subtle ask, was for the key codes or a hint as to the content for a suspicious encrypted transmission that had been intercepted two weeks ago by some Agency technicians, and traced back to their mark.
Josh had no idea what M suspected that transmission held, but he knew for a fact that lives were on the line, if she had commissioned this incredibly elaborate night out solely on the possibility of their obtaining it.
Out of curiosity, he reaches a hand out, apparently without looking (he didn't need to look, as he was observing Alecto in the reflection of his glass), and hooks it idly in the ring of Alecto's collar, right in the center of his neck, drawing attention to the fact that he wasn't yet leashed, waiting for a cue.
He follows Josh dutifully, keeping his face somewhat down, lashes lowered. He looks submissive without being pathetically so, graceful and demure. Where Josh's body language is chilly and almost proud, Alecto's becomes its mirror opposite: soft and meek. He fades easily into Josh's shadow, which gives him just enough cover to safely do his own observation work about their surroundings and present company.
Alecto loved working in complex maps like these. It's a large establishment, with more than enough strategic blind spots and a lot of interesting materials, sound, and architecture to work with and around. There were ample routes for them to get away if needed too, if things truly became compromised beyond repair, though it wouldn't be easy. Maybe a solid 78% success rate, Alecto thinks to himself. And one of them might lose a finger or two in the process but he's (pretty) confident they'd be able to get out with their lives intact.
A man presses by him, giving his entire body a once over, his gaze like that of a hungry animal. Alecto resists the urge to roll his eyes.
This isn't the first time Alecto has found himself in a place like this. He's used to the energy, and to the overall decorum, expectation, and (general lack of) manners. All sorts of people could be found here in the crowd, from literal royalty under clever camouflage, to the average salaryman willing to flash a pretty penny for the cover charge. Although he, himself, wasn't an active member of the community writ large, Alecto had, in the past, been interested in (and experimented with) at least some aspects of the lifestyle (and there was a story there too about how he first met M but - anyway, this wasn't about her, thanks).
Needless to say, he was able (and quite willing) to play the part required of him, and when Josh finally sits in a comfortable and very strategically placed corner, Alecto follows suit, sliding down onto his knees by his feet and resting his head against Josh's thigh with a petulant, put-upon little sigh. He watches guests come and go, lets some of them touch him appreciatively (with Josh's explicit permission of course), but remains firmly attentive to Josh and Josh alone. So, when he feels the collar around his neck get tugged, he instantly looks up, eyes eager but keen, instantly understanding the unvocalized question being asked (Tell me when). Their gazes meet just slightly, like passing ships in the night, as if on accident (this is on purpose) and Alecto shifts his head just so (No. Not yet) in answer.
And just in time. Because they've got company.
Their mark is a broad man, intimidating and sure in his arrogance. The kind of person who was used to spoiling himself with his own desires and not used to being told "no". He comes to their table already looking impatient to be somewhere else, two petite boys with matching collars and dark eyes desperately hanging off his arms. Alecto lowers his eyes again and listens closely. The man doesn't introduce himself but Josh greets him by name - Jean-Luc - and he says something that makes the man laugh (it sounds forced. Hm. Not off to a good start, but that's expected). Drinks are ordered. Some cocaine gets cut with a credit card and done with satisfied sighs. Then - "Your boy," Alecto hears their mark say, his voice tinted with an unplacable accent, "he's beautiful. I want to take a closer look at him before we continue."
Well, that explained one part of the puzzle, Josh thinks to himself wryly. Alecto definitely fit the mark's - Jean-Luc's - type, though far less waifish and helpless and potentially-barely-legal than the two boys he had trailing him; he wonders idly if that's by choice, preference, or design. He lets the conversation play out along the usual lines - small talk about business, the receipt of his message (Jean-Luc had been late in arriving, unsurprisingly), how the evening had gone so far - taking the opportunity to observe.
It wasn't great.
Jean-Luc seems strangely suspicious of him already, which was odd given how airtight their cover identities had been so far. The two most likely possibilities were that something had been missed and their mark had been tipped off as to their true identities (so, basically, disaster), or that there was something about Josh's cover identity - one Christopher Vance, who had a controlling interest in a competing company that Jean-Luc had been perfectly willing to steal from - that wasn't sitting right with Jean-Luc. Which was slightly more complicated, but very much salvageable, if he played his cards carefully, and had a much lower potential body count (namely, none).
"Yes, he is," he says, needing no subterfuge at all for his tone to shade warm and genuine, though he has to work a little harder for the correct undertone of pride of possession rather than awe. He takes a sip from his drink, hoping the hesitation doesn't come across too clearly as actual reluctance. But something doesn't sit right with him.
But Jean-Luc had asked, as was polite, and it was a perfectly reasonable request, even if it made Josh's skin crawl a little in sympathy. Besides, Alecto could definitely take care of himself...
"If you like," he agrees, leaning back in his chair with apparent ease, his leg tensing underneath the table. The leash coiled uselessly in his pocket reminds him of its presence.
Alecto senses the unease spreading all around, hears it take shape in the way Jean-Luc and Josh exchange words, every little verbal barb.
This does not bode well.
And suddenly, he feels the unfamiliar hand of this other man grab him by the collar and lift him up off the ground. It’s surprisingly rough, making Alecto’s eyes go wide (with a brief flash of anger - but he quells it immediately, knowing just how dangerous such a reaction could be here). Jean-Luc’s hands are surprisingly calloused and wide, and if he had so wanted to, he could have closed almost all of Alecto’s neck in his grasp.
The way he touches him makes Alecto feel sick: it makes him feel like prey.
The man is complimenting him on his skin - “like porcelain” - and the thumb of his other hand comes to swipe over the plush of Alecto’s bottom lip before pushing into his mouth. Alecto starts, feeling violated, but unable to do anything he would normally do, as himself, to stop the assault. He remains still, doll-like, as Jean-Luc presses deeper past his lips, looking at him like he’s about to devour him whole.
In the very darkest, most analytical recesses of his mind, Josh actually feels relief. This was not a logical action for someone expecting that he was meeting with two spies, both of whom were more than capable of murdering him and disposing of the body in undetectable ways, even in a place like this. So...
Jean-Luc was simply a very stupid, very entitled rich man, a dime a dozen in a place like this, who happened to possess some very useful, valuable information. He knows how to play this now, exactly how he could turn their conversation to the most productive avenues, how to extract the information M truly wanted with Jean-Luc none the wiser, and then to coordinate with Alecto to extract both of them safely, perhaps even with their covers perfectly intact. He has full faith in him to accomplish this, once they moved past this immediate hurdle.
His body is already moving before he has consciously processed all of that, one hand reaching out to Jean-Luc's wrist and gripping tight, bordering on pain - just a shade tighter than his persona would appear to be capable of on first glance, but far from what he was truly capable of exerting - and the other grabbing his other elbow, forcing him to lower Alecto back down to the ground on his knees, gently. Josh's normally warm eyes are cold, steady, with an undercurrent of anger - but it is the cool, calculated anger of a privileged man who has been insulted, whose property has been disrespected, whose expectations have been disappointed.
"My, my," he says, almost a careless drawl, even as Jean-Luc swears and his grip on Alecto instinctively slackens, his hand falling back down to his side when Josh lets go of his elbow, while maintaining his grip on his other wrist, the one he'd been using to violate Alecto's mouth; he dimly registers movement in the background, one of the uniformed attendants startling on noticing the scene and hurrying in their direction.
"I hadn't expected to be faced with such boorish behavior tonight, after you already arrived late for our appointment." He doesn't sound angry at all, simply displeased. He doesn't openly glance at Alecto at all, now settled back onto his knees on the ground, not even to check that he's okay; in this exchange, Alecto was simply a proxy for the disrespect Christopher Vance had been enduring from this man, who had now crossed a line of behavior that clearly disquieted a few of the onlookers, including the establishment's staff member, who looks anxiously between the two clients. It's very clear that Jean-Luc knew he was in the wrong here, and Christopher Vance was pushing right back, calling him out on it. Josh's expression doesn't change at all outwardly, but Jean-Luc swears again, an exclamation of pain, as Josh tightens his grip ever so slightly on his wrist.
"I could make a complaint," he points out, soft and urbane, utterly and devastatingly polite. "I don't even imagine I would be the first, would I, my friend?"
He can practically read the moment that Jean-Luc's expression shifts to respect, to awareness - not necessarily of any wrongdoing, but at least of having picked the wrong target - and he loosens his grip accordingly, with absolute control, until he lets his own hand fall back down to his side, into his pocket. Jean-Luc visibly sways back, then steels himself and forces out a hearty, booming laugh, looking at Josh with a hint of reluctantly impressed deference.
"Just a misunderstanding, my friend," he responds in kind, and Josh relaxes a little further, visibly allowing the psychological 'stand-down' to show in his changed posture and demeanor; the tension breaks in the atmosphere. "As you didn't have your sub leashed."
He allows a soft smile to show, the dryest of chuckles as he accepts the nonapology in the spirit in which it was meant to be delivered. "Of course," he replies, inclining his head, gracious to a fault; there would be no doubt in the minds of the onlookers who exactly was at fault here. "Then I must apologize to you for not being perfectly clear." He removes the coiled leash from his pocket, and the onlookers breathe metaphorical sighs of relief; this was right back to business as usual, and most of the unwanted attention moves on from the little drama.
"Sit down, Jean-Luc," he invites, all friendly smiles again, and he waves a hand at the attendant, who hurries over. "Another drink for my friend here, and for anyone else who cares to have one," he orders, and the attendant is only too eager to have this over and done with.
Now he turns to Alecto, as the conversation starts up again, and he rests a proprietary hand on his head, delicately takes his chin in hand to look into his eyes, not so subtly retracing the exact places where Jean-Luc had touched earlier.
Alecto was less worried about what was being done to him than the attention this entire engagement was getting. He could count the eyes on them, and it was beginning to make him sweat, but then Josh moves swift as a knife to deescalate, to put their mark in his place and Alecto can’t help but feel a little awed, a little proud of him (always, he always is really).
When he feels his face being tilted and moved once more, Alecto finds himself peering up gratefully into Josh’s eyes and he nods, making sure he looks sweet and wanting and relieved. He looks at Josh like he’s the only man in this entire room, this entire world. “Yes, master, please.”
He leans forward too, like he’s impatient for it, like he can’t wait to be leashed, can’t wait to be more visibly owned, possessed. Had he a tail, it probably would have been wagging intensely.
In the almost-privacy of direct eye contact, Josh allows himself the briefest instant of vulnerability, allowing his admiration for Alecto's composure and acting skill to show on his face before he ducks his head and hooks his fingers underneath the leather of the collar, reveling in that additional skin-on-skin contact, using it to tug his head forward and bring Alecto even closer to him. He knows he has no reason to be shy, in this environment - his persona had every right to kiss and touch and fondle Alecto's, right here in public, in front of everyone watching avidly - at the same time, he has too much respect for Alecto to take such liberties without checking in first.
"You're all mine, aren't you, my pet?" He asks, holding up the hook for the leash in front of Alecto's eyes, before linking it with the metal loop for the collar. Despite the din of conversation around them, the arrival of drinks and other refreshments, the quiet echo of the metal clicking into place sounds loud in his ears.
He automatically loops the other end of the leash around his wrist (tying Alecto to him), then turns to face the mark again, leaning back in his chair, apparently at ease.
From his lightning quick assessment, it seems they've made a breakthrough. Whatever Jean-Luc's misgivings had been (likely surrounding his impersonation of this shared lifestyle), they seemed to have been cleared up now. He falls into eager conversation with Josh - with Christopher - this time around, and Josh lets the discussion drift, circling around the matter of the transaction that had been arranged, matters settling easily.
Jean-Luc's mind is clearly elsewhere, likely on the entertainments ahead of him for the night, as he tugs one of his two half naked subs into his lap to tease, his large hand groping him through his tight shorts and forcing him to bite back quiet moans of protest and arousal, and Josh allows himself a carefully calculated expression of interest, of aesthetic appreciation. That seems to encourage Jean-Luc - really, how was it that this man managed to successfully accomplish anything covert? - who grins lasciviously over at Josh.
"Want to give my other one a try, Vance? He's got a great mouth on him, no gag reflex at all." He smirks. "Call it a bonus for your payment."
"I did say to call me Chris," he says, with mock admonishment. They were all friends here, after all. He doesn't glance at Alecto, but his grip tightens infinitesimally on the leash.
"All yours, master," Alecto repeats back to him, as the leash clicks into place and he bites back a groan of pleasure that was surely convincing to everyone around the table. "That's all I ever want to be."
He hears the mark across the table make an appreciative sound, saying something deeply sexiest (that he probably thought could be taken as a compliment) in response that makes Alecto really have to grit his teeth to avoid reacting to in a way that would give his cover up too obviously. Instead, he kisses Josh's hand - the same one that he tied the tail end of the leash to - and his lips feel warm flesh and leather all the same.
Play along, Alecto takes the chance to mouth against the skin of Josh's knuckle, flashing a quick look up at him to double check he got the message. His timing is impeccable because immediately after, he hear Jean-Luc suggest: "Well, Chris, how about a show then?" before shoving his second sub - a doe-eyed, shaky little thing, towards and onto the table, looking pointedly (helplessly) at Alecto.
Yeah, yeah. He gets it.
Alecto shoots Josh a knowing gaze, waiting for him to give permission.
His shoulders untense briefly at the touch of Alecto's lips against the only bare skin he can reach on his still gloved hands, and he meets Jean-Luc's eyes from across the table, over the nearly-naked body of his sub. He lets his eyes dip, the corners of his mouth turning up with appreciation, noting the boy's big eyes blinking at him in careful entreaty, soft and meek, the fading marks littered across his skin, how the tight shorts - basically Speedos, in all honesty - accentuate a carefully maintained litheness and pale skin.
He's surprised by exactly how little the sight appeals to him, even purely on aesthetics. He'd always preferred just a little more fire...
"Mm, how could I possibly refuse such a golden opportunity?" He replies with a lascivious sneer, tugging theatrically on the leash in his hand, as though he were forcefully yanking Alecto closer. "You have such excellent taste, my friend." He nods at both subs. "I'm honored my little pet has caught your fancy."
"Now play nice, hm?" He murmurs with a laugh, gesturing for Alecto to climb up onto the table to join Jean-Luc's offering. He lets the end of the leash dangle a bit, on his side of the table, giving Alecto plenty of room to move.
He knows the play now, knows exactly how to subtly turn the conversation to other matters. He has full faith that Alecto will be able to distract the mark sufficiently for him not to realize exactly how much information he was giving away, inadvertently.
He was just. Going to have to do his part, which meant observing Alecto's work with appreciation while not getting too distracted and carefully directing the conversation.
He jerks forward just as theatrically, playing up the drama of the moment, letting himself whimper at the rough motion. The mark lights a cigarette, blows billows of grey smoke towards Alecto's face as he eases gracefully up onto the table top and takes the other boy's hands in his, lacing their fingers. He starts to kiss him, open mouthed and showy, tongue pressing out against each other so it was visible how lewd they were being, a purposefully tantalizing performance.
The poor boy beneath him (he couldn't possibly be any older than his early twenties, if that) is trembling beneath him, and Jean-Luc is saying "Lemme see you grab his ass," and "Bite him," and Alecto pushes down his own disgust and vitriol to do exactly as he's asked because in between all of this, he can hear the Josh driving the conversation back towards the intel they needed. Liquor and words are flowing equally free now and Alecto keeps up the act, delicately vacillating between playfully submissive and carefully alert.
He can tell Jean-Luc is quite absorbed in the little tableau he feels he's orchestrated to his satisfaction - directing Alecto in dominating his own sub, the soft, wet sounds of kisses and arousal as the two lovely creatures in front of him touch and grope each other for his amusement. Alecto was balancing this perfectly, clearly waiting for Jean-Luc's instructions before acting on them, while subtly directing the interaction, keeping things from escalating too fast or becoming more pornographic - and perhaps, overly distracting - than was strictly tasteful for their surroundings.
In the meanwhile, Josh keeps his face appreciative of the show and Jean-Luc's drinks and other refreshments topped off, letting the conversation drift with carefully orchestrated aimlessness towards other interesting topics - carefully framed questions tailor-made to allow Jean-Luc to show off his wealth, his accomplishments, the people he had met, all the things that supported his extravagant lifestyle and means, all the little baubles and favors and connections he was owed by those more rich or powerful than he was.
His ears perk up (he can see the way Alecto suddenly shifts his head to suck a lingering bruise into the boy's collarbone, covering up his own shift in attention with the little hint of extra engagement) when Jean-Luc's recollections drift into some consulting work he'd done recently for a very powerful client, just an AA on a message, I took care of it personally, plus one of my own experts just to do the easy work, the grunt work, you know? It stumped him - me! - for oh, two or three weeks or so, hah, in between other jobs! I haven't seen an encryption like that in a while, couldn't have done it without the key, there's always a risk in that business...
That was a little bit worrying. Even if Josh didn't know the background or exactly what information had been intercepted (Alecto might, even if he hadn't shared with Josh), he knew enough to have a good idea of what this meant. Some enemy actor had somehow obtained a private encryption key, as well as an intercepted message that happened to be decryptable using that key. These keys usually weren't recycled, so there was a chance that they could still stop the bleeding, contain the damage, if they could get a better idea of how many layers had been peeled back, and which countries to keep an eye on that might be acting on that information.
Thankfully, this did mean that overall, security had not yet been entirely compromised, only the individual whose key had - been taken, stolen, given - no matter. It was a place to start. There was a significant difference in response to the potential compromise of all their systems, if Jean-Luc's cryptanalysis expert had somehow managed to reverse-engineer an analytical attack on all the best encryption the Agency or their allies could come up with. This was... doable. Even educational, if they could get any hints as to who that key belonged to.
He lets the conversation continue to play out, noting down any interesting or potentially useful details, including hints about the stolen key; he'd untangle it all later, but there was no immediate urgency, since M was aware of the decrypted message. A papercut was treatable, but a hemorrhage was not.
After a little more time (he winces, thinking of the poor sub lying back on the hard tabletop, and for Alecto's knees), he starts to fidget a little theatrically, glancing around the room and sighing, playing with the loose end of Alecto's leash. By now, Jean-Luc has his other sub giving him a lap dance, while he has his hand shoved into his shorts, palming his cock while the poor thing trembles enticingly and bites down on his own lip.
"Ah, Chris, I see you are interested in exploring the other delights this place has to offer," Jean-Luc booms, having warmed up significantly to Josh's persona and now clearly enjoying himself a little too much. "Let's conclude our boring business and make some rounds, hm? Do allow me the - ah - pleasure - of escorting such a handsome pair and showing you the sights. It's your first time after all!"
He doesn't glance at Alecto, simply sketches a figure eight with his end of the leash, absently.
Is his company worth the potential of extra information?
The answer is clear for Alecto at least: yes it is. They don’t have nearly enough clarity for their other cross-functional teams to do anything productive with and without that certainty all their hard work so far would have been for naught.
The boy beneath him is in the middle of kissing Alecto’s jaw when his master jerks the leash and sends the poor thing half-tumbling off the table with a yelp. Instinctively alecto almost reaches out to help him steady himself but he forces his body to freeze, fingers closing on themselves briefly, flexing. Such an obvious break in his character would be a problem.
Instead he stays quiet and looks back over his pale shoulder at Josh, his lips damp and pink, a silent question (and consent). It’s time to try something else.
Together they head through the neon circus of displays on the floor just above them. It’s littered with a fair number of public scenes - discipline, public humiliation, just to name a few - and Alecto can’t help but show clear interest in a few of them: especially those using spreader bars and rings and other such restraints. He lingers more than he should, allowing Josh to tug him along in a similar way to how Jean-Luc likes to do with his boys and it seems to gain them more favor with the brute. He prattles on, patronizing and sure of himself about how he enjoys putting his subs in their place, how so much of this appeals to him because of that violent freedom to do so. (Alecto knows the truth of course, that Jean-Luc is nothing but a cruel, spoiled man who likes to use his power and influence to hurt other people and any excuse he can find to do so, he’ll exploit).
He’s opening up. Good.
Alecto takes a moment to brush close against Josh as they maneuver through the crowd, somehow managing to make the motion look natural and filled with longing, submission, and whispers against his ear, “You have to treat me rougher. Much more. We’re almost there. He’s starting to like you.”
He stays on the alert, keeping the conversation going with careful maneuvering, allowing himself to show fascination in keeping with his persona, letting his gaze linger appreciatively on the various displays. He can see Jean-Luc observing him closely - apparently curious to see if he will display any squeamishness, which Jean-Luc would then interpret as weakness - but he doesn't bat an eye. Even if he wasn't an active part of this scene, he was familiar enough with it, and there was a surprising amount of overlap in skillset and tolerance; if given the choice, he'd likely pick the BDSM community over some of the things he was asked to do, for duty, home, and country.
In all honesty, though, he's secretly far more interested in observing what Alecto finds appealing. The journey on the car here had been - enlightening and enjoyable in so many ways, and while he could control his physical reactions, he was still feeling a little keyed up about it, letting that emotional arousal translate to the appropriate undertones in the moment now. There's a quiet, logical, distant part of him that points out that Alecto is a very good handler and actor, that there was still a possibility that he had simply been trying to intuit what Josh needed to fulfill this role and then applying himself to the task of supplying the proper motivation. That all of this - the current state of affairs for their cover story, the earlier exchange in the car, the look in his eyes when he was smiling at Josh over a cup of painstakingly brewed coffee in the morning, offering a small genuine compliment - was simply for the sake of the mission.
But down that particular path lay madness, and Josh can't help hoping that, perhaps, in the heat of the moment, he'd could get a glimpse of the real Alecto, of what he else might find appealing in bed, or against a wall, or on his knees... He can see the way his eyes shift for just a few fractions of a second towards some of the displays - the elaborate restraints, the subs with their legs held open by bars and cuffs and other restraints, presenting themselves for punishment to their Doms, crying tears of pain and pleasure and catharsis as red blooms over their bared bodies.
When Alecto steps closer, Josh almost tenses, not sure what to expect, waiting for his cue, but he simply whispers instructions against his ear. He can see Jean-Luc watching them, and he turns his head just enough to look like he's focusing on one of the public scenes - a very elaborate shibari, with the female sub tied upside down, one knee bent and the other leg held up and open - while her Dom plays idly with a flogger, alternately whipping and teasing her with the leather strands.
He tugs hard on the leash, forcing Alecto to step closer in with a little gasp, and he pulls him into a hard, bruising kiss, artfully turning so that Jean-Luc can clearly see the way he slides his palm down along Alecto's mesh shirt to his shorts, grabbing his barely-hidden cock with entitled possessiveness. "Are you imagining yourself up there, my pet?" He asks, pitching his voice just enough for the intent - if not the full content - to carry. He remembers the way Alecto had responded to him in the car, to the way Josh had used his mouth, to the way he'd settled, even almost sleeping, with the head of Josh's cock held in his mouth. The way he'd gone along with Josh's imposition of authority, the way he'd humped at Josh's shoe when he'd rested it between his legs, utterly shameless...
"You'll stay hard for your master, won't you, my pet?" He whispers, and adds, a little louder, "I need to see exactly how much you'll want me, when we're finally by ourselves," seeing Jean-Luc grinning as he saunters closer, trying to hear what they are doing. His eyes seem to light up a little, seeing the way Josh is manhandling Alecto, the way his face is turned towards the crying, whimpering sub being whipped.
"Ah, you reserved yourself one of the private rooms for later, then?" Jean-Luc asks, waggling his eyebrows, sounding impressed despite himself - even if there wasn't a monetary expense, there weren't many rooms available, and you generally needed a connection or an obscenely high fee to get one. "Good! Is your boy even going to be able to walk out of here on his own?" He elbows Josh in the side, tilting his head at one of the more extreme displays, a completely naked male sub on a St. Andrews cross, lash marks already criss-crossed over his body while the Dom swings a rattan cane, making a whistling sound through the air as she demands that he count each strike.
"If you like this kind of thing, my friend, remind me to tell you about a club I went to recently, in Budapest. Very exclusive, invitation only, but my recent client - you know the one - was very appreciative. You could really let go and enjoy yourself there..."
Josh's gaze almost snaps up, his eyes flicking to Alecto. The Agency did have an operative in Hungary, who had been off the grid for some time...
He expects what comes next, but that doesn’t mean Josh doesn’t still manage to surprise and delight him (for as much of a blunt instrument most agents were - dull and uninspired, simply sharpened weapons to do what was required - Joshua Archer was certainly one of the more creative and flexible ones Alecto has ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s able to keep things exciting without going rogue, without compromising the mission objectives. And that’s a hard skill to master. Alecto himself must admit he struggles with it. But then again, he’s not usually on the field. Damn you, M. Damn you to hell, personally - ): the harsh tug forward, how Josh’s hand smoothes doesn’t his body like he were stroking and inspecting a favored, priceless possession; the way Josh fondles him with ease, a faux, uncaring air about his every action. It’s an intoxicating combination of stimuli.
It makes it far too easy for Alecto to continue playing along. “I wish I was up there for you, master,” he says, pitching his voice to a whine. “I want to be spread open for you, show everyone how wet I can get for you, how badly I need to be put in my place, to be fucked by you.” He clings to Josh, watching the way Jean-Luc’s face lights up at his desperate, purposefully pathetic behavior. The man even licks his lips, very obviously staring at Alecto’s legs, his ass, the bulge of his cock (Alecto sincerely hopes there is a very special ring of hell made just for this man alone).
He presses his lips to the corner of Josh’s mouth, but it’s not demanding, just hopeful, as if he were pleading for a kiss, a real one, but that he wouldn’t dare simply take it.
“I will, master, I’ll stay hard for you. I’ll…try.” He pauses, lashes lowering. “But if I can’t, won’t you have to punish me?” He turns his gaze slowly, seductively to their mark who is now standing uncomfortably close. “Won’t he, sir?” Alecto asks him and Jean-Luc sucks in a sharp breath that smells like expensive tequila and tobacco.
“Oh, yes, he sure will. My, your boy is really something else, Chris. Which reminds me -“
And there he goes, spilling every little secret he has left.
Yes, that’s it. Alecto’s eyes shine with recognition and interest. That’s it. We’ve got it.
With the same hand that is holding the leash, he reaches up to grab Alecto's hair, to force his head close as he steals that teasing kiss, claiming Alecto's lips with every appearance of entitlement. Josh knows how to make that gesture look good without actually causing too much pain, but there was something about the way Alecto had looked, some ring of truth in his theatrical pleas... Josh yanks on him hard, forcing him close as he kisses him with lips and teeth and tongue, practically devouring Alecto's mouth where he stands and slotting his thigh between his practically bare legs, as though demanding a public demonstration of his lust and attraction for - for Chris, for his persona - right that moment.
It's a convenient cover for his little startle of reaction, shifting the elation he feels at obtaining the needed information into a lewd display for the benefit of the mark.
Though Josh would be lying if he wasn't getting some (a lot of) guilty pleasure out of it for himself. Even if it was all for show, the tempting seduction in Alecto's words, his teasing gestures, the close contact between them - he doesn't think there are many people who could resist an Alecto determined to draw them in, and he was definitely not among them. He has to cling to the reminder that this was a job, that they were working, and that this was solely to endear themselves to the mark and throw off suspicion.
It doesn't make the buzz of arousal under his skin, his automatic reaction to the way Alecto stares up at him with false submission and adoration on his face, to the sight of his long, long lashes fluttering shut with imagined pleasure - any less urgent.
"Oh, do you want to show yourself off to everyone, my little pet?" He asks, sounding almost sweet, ostensibly whispering to Alecto, but his voice is clear enough for Jean-Luc to hear.
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He reaches his other hand down between his own legs to undo the fastenings on the silken underwear he is wearing, revealing his cock (so this was why M had picked this underwear - no, no, stop thinking about it stop thinking about it). He strokes up and down the length as he tugs it out into the open air of the car, the soft leather feeling incredible, unexpected, the texture slippery and soft on sensitive skin, already starting to darken with blood and circulation. He lets go after a moment, his cock bobbing almost invitingly between his legs, mere inches from Alecto's lips; his fingers tighten their hold on Alecto's hair, as if to make a point.
"I don't want you to suck me just yet, my pet." He continues. "I just want to see how deep you can take me, how deep I can get down your throat while you bury your face between my legs and wait obediently for my orders, like a good boy."
"Can you do that for me, my pet?" His hand in Alecto's hair is absolutely steady, with not even a hint of allowing movement.
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He lets out a little whimper (he knows Josh likes the sound, so here, he thinks, have a reward for playing this up so well) in assent before opening his mouth obediently, wide, tongue slack. He doesn’t move on his own, completely allowing himself to be at Josh’s mercy, handing to him that immense power directly.
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Soon enough, he starts to work up a rhythm, tugging Alecto back and forth as he feeds him ever increasing amounts of the length of his cock. He doesn't thrust forward, simply using the grip he has on Alecto's hair to direct him, back and forth, deeper and deeper, until he truly does have Josh's cock stuffed down his throat, his nose and chin pressed up again the smooth material of his underwear and the scratchier material of his tailored slacks.
"There's nothing to forgive, my pet," he whispers, glancing down at his face and trying to keep himself in check. Now that their roles for the moment seem to have been sufficiently established, his fingers loosen, carding lightly through Alecto's dark hair with bewitching gentleness, but able to tighten their grip at essentially any given moment.
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He glances up at Josh, able to see just a little bit of his face, looking for his reaction, trying to figure out his next move. What can he say, he’s curious. And…excited to find out what he’ll try to make them do next.
Alecto accidentally gulps on instinct at his own imagination and instantly struggles, the muscles of his throat revolting for just a second, creating an unintentional suction as he tries to force his gag reflex to calm back down. The collar around his neck doesn’t help matters: it feels extra tight now that his throat is shoved full of cock. He can taste nothing but Josh all around, mannish and musky. It contributes to the air of command he’s intent on expressing, coloring the atmosphere around them with a beautiful, suffocating pressure for obedience.
Oh. Alecto’s so proud of him.
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As though Josh wasn't on the verge of coming down Alecto's throat. As if Alecto was nothing but a vessel, a welcoming receptacle, a warm hole for Josh to use however as he pleased.
But he wanted only the tension of the act, not the lethargy of its messy aftermath, not before they'd completed the mission, and so he slowly - slowly - eases Alecto back off of his length, listening to the way he gasps and watching the way he struggles, tears in his lovely eyes, feeling the way he twitches and spasms around Josh, until only the very tip is resting in his mouth.
It's still a very close thing.
Everything about this was a very different experience from the schedule that Daniel and Thomas followed, but he could still draw on his familiarity with Alexto's - no, with Daniel's - preferences, limits, and sensitivities.
He loosens his grip on his hair, urges him to rest his cheek against Josh's thigh - he could pillow his face quite comfortably there, without being shoved into Josh's crotch, while still practically nursing on the head of Josh's cock.
"There we are, my pet," he whispers, fingers gently stroking through Alecto's hair, as if trying to soothe him to sleep. "I know you're so eager to taste me, you're such a lovely, cock-hungry whore, but we want to still have some fun later, don't we? That takes the edge off a little, doesn't it? You can keep my cock warm like this until we get there. I want you to rest so I can show you off properly, at your best."
Internally, he is fighting against the natural, physical instinct to thrust into warm wetness, a habit that had been built up with Alecto specifically over the past few months, the urge to just get things over with and chase immediate pleasure. But even in the dimness of the car, he can see the half-hard outline of Alecto's erection in those ridiculous leather shorts, and he has a feeling that it would be a necessary distraction when they arrived.
Besides, Alecto hadn't been sleeping well lately, if he ever did. In a secured vehicle, with nothing to do other than stay in character, they might as well try to catch a few moments of ease before the mission began in earnest.
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Well, color him amazed at the way Josh is upping the ante in this character. I've taught him well, I suppose, Alecto thinks to himself as he nuzzles against Josh's leg, tonguing now and again at the head of his cock - playing slowly with the foreskin, licking at the slit - that still rests against his lips.
He folds himself gracefully to rest as instructed. He didn't anticipate to actually relax (when he's on the clock, Alecto is anything but) although the way Josh is stroking his hair back is so soothing that Alecto nearly does fall asleep for at least a few minutes at a time, and it's only by the feeling of a light tugging at the collar around his neck that eases him back awake. The car is slowing to a stop.
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He tugs gently on the collar to get Alecto's attention, uncharacteristic for his persona for the evening, but very much in keeping with Joshua Archer.
"Still with me?" he asks - a perfectly neutral phrase, easy to fit into the three different worlds they are straddling tonight, before he shifts fully into the correct mindset again. "I'll leash you once we get inside."
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He decides to test it out now.
Lifting his gaze slowly, he purses his lips, a look of light defiance on his face. "I want to be leashed now, master."
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But then he remembers Alecto's nonchalant insistence on being collared for almost the whole of the two hour drive, on falling immediately into their personas even within the relative safety of the car, when, really, it would have been much more practical for both of them to debrief together in that privacy and make proper plans, and some things click together suddenly in his mind. The enormity of the conclusion pulses through him, settles into his bones and muscles, and suddenly some of his own plans and assumptions for the evening take a decidedly different turn.
"Greedy," he replies out loud, sounding faintly displeased, hooking his gloved index finger in the metal loop where a leash would go, and tugging just hard enough for the pressure to be felt, without risking any damage or injury to such a delicate area. "I want the people in the club to watch the way you submit to me when I put the leash on you. For there to be no mistaking my claim on you, my pet."
He pauses, almost delicately, and then shifts his right foot, clad in exquisite Italian leather, between Alecto's legs, the tight leather shorts leaving next to nothing to the imagination as he deliberately puts gentle but insistent pressure on Alecto's cock with his foot, mostly quiescent right now.
"And I expect you to respond accordingly. Am I understood?"
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(He'll make sure Josh gets an ample reward for doing his job so well, for going so above and beyond his calling. M will certainly be pleased too. Not that Alecto wants to think about M right now at all, fuck -)
Alecto groans, biting his bottom lip in a tempting, provocative way as his hips arch up against the leather shoe pressing down against his groin. His still semi-hard cock twitches with obvious delight in the tight confines of his ridiculous shorts. "Yes, master," he practically moans, "I understand. I'll behave."
He can't help but rub himself against Josh's foot, enjoying this unique pressure, just for a bit longer.
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He knows this is part of the persona, that Alecto is a quick, impossibly intelligent mind that could make connections and think circles around Josh when operating at his very best. But at the same time he seems to genuinely be deriving pleasure from this treatment, from the scenario, and however good it was for their cover, a part of Josh is also eager to give it to him for its own sake, simply because it was something he wanted, and that Josh could provide.
The car shifts slowly forward, as the driver makes the appropriate exchange of identification for their cover identities, and then skillfully pulls right up to the door leading to the private elevator that would take them up to the club, manned by two uniformed attendants, in addition to the checkpoint they had passed earlier. He can't even hear the music that must surely be playing, only feel the vibration of the bass; the walls must be very thick indeed. That was a lot of security for what was essentially a sex club, and Josh has to wonder, again, at how exactly M had managed to arrange their cover stories. Clientele for a place like this were sure to be rightfully paranoid, and there would be additional measures in place, some careful balance of security and privacy. He can see why their mark felt that conducting business in a place like this made sense. Josh reaches for the briefcase, checks himself over once more, and then nudges Alecto with his foot again.
"Let's go, my pet," he urges/commands, and the car door and the entrance open for both of them simultaneously, the attendant stationed there clearly examining both of them to ensure they matched the paperwork. He keeps his expression bored, entitled - used to the attention and understanding of procedure, but finding it all very much beneath a man of his calibre - and exchanges a glance with the stony-faced driver holding the door open, who tips his head in acknowledgement. So, he would wait here for them and drive them back when they were done.
He glances to the side at Alecto as they are escorted in to wait for the elevator, the surroundings gleaming bright and almost blindingly clean. The attendant had been scrupulous in not glancing at Alecto at all once he'd completed making the identification and then clocked the collar wrapped snugly around his neck - apparently part of the etiquette for this place; Josh adjusts his approach again, for when they start running into other people.
"We have one of the private rooms on the fifth level set aside for you already, sir," the attendant is saying, in respectful tones. "Per the request of your assistant, when you made the reservation."
What. What the fuck. How much money exactly was M blowing on this operation?
Outwardly, he nods in response and accepts the electronic card without blinking as the attendant asks if there's anything else they can do for him - well, for his cover identity.
"I was wondering if a certain party had already arrived," he asks, keeping his tone casual, referring to the mark. "If he has, could you please send him a drink, with my compliments, and let him know I'd be interested in a conversation with him in the," his hesitation is undetectable as he remembers his instructions, "second level lounge, at his leisure? If he hasn't, please pass on my invitation when he arrives." The attendant assures him that it would be taken care of, and then he and Alecto are alone in the elevator, the faintest echo of the music starting to leak in.
The coiled leash in his pocket seems to exert a far stronger gravity than its negligible weight. For a moment, he is tempted to renege, to leash Alecto right there in the elevator and stake an even more visible claim, a literal tether linking them together, but the well-trained attendant's careful adherence to some protocol on the sight of the collar alone reassures him slightly. From a strategic standpoint, he thinks that the gesture will be more helpful and impactful later on, in company. And Alecto seems fine with letting him take the lead, for the moment.
The elevator ride is smooth and fast, the doors opening into an elegant reception area in almost no time at all. It's only here that he first catches sight of other guests, milling about in conversation, drinks in hand, in appearance like any other fancy cocktail party, save for the attire of some of the attendees, dressed more like Alecto than like Josh, some of them kneeling or standing at attention, a few following other guests as they moved through the room (the terminology always varied, but he presumed they were equivalent to Alecto's assigned role for the night) a few respectful steps behind or on hands and knees, both on or off leashes, with all manner of interesting arrangements. There are uniformed staff sprinkled discreetly throughout, attending to the needs of the guests.
From a professional standpoint, he can appreciate the careful attention to detail. This was a single, defensible point of entry, fully monitored and within the control of the establishment; there had been no buttons for Josh to push to direct their course, only a scanner that the attendant downstairs had activated with a card. This elevator only traveled between the garage below and reception, with no other stops; there would be additional elevators and staircases elsewhere, given that the maps and promotional materials of the place that had been included in the mission briefing package had cited several floors, and M had apparently arranged a private space for them on the 5th level; he does not see the clientele for a place like this doing a lot of climbing, unless it was suitably dramatic. This room, the entryway, seemed relatively tame, could likely even be used as an event space for less objectionable activities, if it came down to it. But he can feel the vibration of the bass through the floor, and he's sure things won't be so staid, if they explore elsewhere in the building.
He tightens his grip on the suitcase, his thoughts running a little wild, but his demeanor is almost bored. He draws a few curious and interested stares; he assumes it's more about the suit and his attire than anything inherent to himself. Alecto draws many more, but most attempt to be circumspect, once they see the collar he is wearing and his proximity to Josh.
Well. They were meant to meet the target on the second level. They might as well scope it out first.
He doesn't glance back at Alecto, automatically assuming that he'd know better than Josh exactly how to silently project their presumed relationship to observers, and how closely to follow behind him to not draw attention. Or at least, to not draw the wrong kind of attention.
He recalls the layout from the map he'd memorized. The second level was something of a transition space - two stories' worth of seating, with drinks and dining, music, and even an event stage. The furniture would be arranged in clusters for ease of conversation, and it was more a place to see and be seen - or to be shown off - than for any particularly explicit activity. So it was exactly the kind of space that would support conversations like the one they were meant to have for the night. Beyond that, on the higher levels, there would be things catering to slightly more - sophisticated or specialized tastes - exhibitions and performances, even classes and demonstrations. Likely with some equivalent to 'the dungeons', in the common parlance, and small private stalls or rooms, with signups and timeslots - good for impromptu meetups or the informal arrangements based on chance introductions or expressions of interest.
The private rooms were beyond that on the fifth level - luxuriously appointed rooms set aside with guarantees of utmost discretion for those who could afford to pay handsomely for it, that could be fully customized on request. It wasn't outright stated, but the usual implication was that those rooms were for those who wanted privacy above all else - or for those whose tastes were more extreme again than the other levels could support. He has no idea what arrangements had been made for them, or what the expectation had been for the room's use, the keycard he'd been given settled securely in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, next to the slim wallet with a somewhat terrifying amount of cash that had come with his assigned attire, apparently a vital part of his cover identity.
The floor beneath them right now, based on the sound, was the dance floor.
He leads them both to another bank of elevators, nodding politely in response to a few greetings and appreciative gazes. They do not have the car to themselves this time, and he instinctively crowds Alecto against the wall, putting his back in the way of any stray gazes, his hand hooked possessively around his waist in lieu of a leash. But there is barely a moment to wait before the doors open again.
It's a lovely space, the lights set at the perfect level for visibility without being overly glaring. He finds a likely location, and finally settles down at an empty table nestled in a curved nook, his back against the wall while still affording him a commanding view of the space. He's not sure just yet what Alecto will do - while a lot of the subs he's seen so far have been standing or kneeling, there were also some sitting on the chairs and benches, or in the laps of their partners, laughing and giggling and kissing, again both on or off-leash. He hasn't yet managed to divine an etiquette or logic to the choice so far, and decides to leave it up to Alecto, for now.
He's alert for their mark - he'd memorized the photos they'd been given - but in the meantime he splits his attention between examining the room and keeping an eye on Alecto. They only have a few moments to themselves before they start being approached for small talk and chitchat, and a few veiled offers from interested parties. He knows that had been the point of their attire, that they needed to blend in with the other clientele, but even as he leans into his persona, making fast friends and teasing those who stop by their table. He's always been good at this part, finding acquaintances and allies in situations - not quite like this, but similar - projecting the appropriate level of warmth and interest to make them feel charitably towards him without over-promising; this part of the mission was easy, something he could do in his sleep.
In the back of his mind, he is unraveling a puzzle.
He didn't know the exact intel their target for the night had, only that it was important, and only that it had been deemed vital enough by M to go to all this trouble and considerable expense. There were very few matters that rose to that level, and all of the possibilities made Josh very very anxious.He mostly manages to translate the tension he feels into excitement and curiosity, but he's leaning on his old analyst experience to connect the profile of the mark - an (obviously) wealthy and connected founder of two separate international startups in the technology sector, specifically in information security - with
the two types of information they've been asked to obtain.
The first, open transaction was a drive containing sensitive information that they'd commissioned him to steal and had promised payment for, for which they'd been given an incredible amount in diamonds in the suitcase Josh has tucked behind his leg, against the seat, in constant contact with his body - basically, their cover was corporate espionage, a relatively easy exchange based on greed and opportunity. The second, more subtle ask, was for the key codes or a hint as to the content for a suspicious encrypted transmission that had been intercepted two weeks ago by some Agency technicians, and traced back to their mark.
Josh had no idea what M suspected that transmission held, but he knew for a fact that lives were on the line, if she had commissioned this incredibly elaborate night out solely on the possibility of their obtaining it.
Out of curiosity, he reaches a hand out, apparently without looking (he didn't need to look, as he was observing Alecto in the reflection of his glass), and hooks it idly in the ring of Alecto's collar, right in the center of his neck, drawing attention to the fact that he wasn't yet leashed, waiting for a cue.
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Alecto loved working in complex maps like these. It's a large establishment, with more than enough strategic blind spots and a lot of interesting materials, sound, and architecture to work with and around. There were ample routes for them to get away if needed too, if things truly became compromised beyond repair, though it wouldn't be easy. Maybe a solid 78% success rate, Alecto thinks to himself. And one of them might lose a finger or two in the process but he's (pretty) confident they'd be able to get out with their lives intact.
A man presses by him, giving his entire body a once over, his gaze like that of a hungry animal. Alecto resists the urge to roll his eyes.
This isn't the first time Alecto has found himself in a place like this. He's used to the energy, and to the overall decorum, expectation, and (general lack of) manners. All sorts of people could be found here in the crowd, from literal royalty under clever camouflage, to the average salaryman willing to flash a pretty penny for the cover charge. Although he, himself, wasn't an active member of the community writ large, Alecto had, in the past, been interested in (and experimented with) at least some aspects of the lifestyle (and there was a story there too about how he first met M but - anyway, this wasn't about her, thanks).
Needless to say, he was able (and quite willing) to play the part required of him, and when Josh finally sits in a comfortable and very strategically placed corner, Alecto follows suit, sliding down onto his knees by his feet and resting his head against Josh's thigh with a petulant, put-upon little sigh. He watches guests come and go, lets some of them touch him appreciatively (with Josh's explicit permission of course), but remains firmly attentive to Josh and Josh alone. So, when he feels the collar around his neck get tugged, he instantly looks up, eyes eager but keen, instantly understanding the unvocalized question being asked (Tell me when). Their gazes meet just slightly, like passing ships in the night, as if on accident (this is on purpose) and Alecto shifts his head just so (No. Not yet) in answer.
And just in time. Because they've got company.
Their mark is a broad man, intimidating and sure in his arrogance. The kind of person who was used to spoiling himself with his own desires and not used to being told "no". He comes to their table already looking impatient to be somewhere else, two petite boys with matching collars and dark eyes desperately hanging off his arms. Alecto lowers his eyes again and listens closely. The man doesn't introduce himself but Josh greets him by name - Jean-Luc - and he says something that makes the man laugh (it sounds forced. Hm. Not off to a good start, but that's expected). Drinks are ordered. Some cocaine gets cut with a credit card and done with satisfied sighs. Then - "Your boy," Alecto hears their mark say, his voice tinted with an unplacable accent, "he's beautiful. I want to take a closer look at him before we continue."
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It wasn't great.
Jean-Luc seems strangely suspicious of him already, which was odd given how airtight their cover identities had been so far. The two most likely possibilities were that something had been missed and their mark had been tipped off as to their true identities (so, basically, disaster), or that there was something about Josh's cover identity - one Christopher Vance, who had a controlling interest in a competing company that Jean-Luc had been perfectly willing to steal from - that wasn't sitting right with Jean-Luc. Which was slightly more complicated, but very much salvageable, if he played his cards carefully, and had a much lower potential body count (namely, none).
"Yes, he is," he says, needing no subterfuge at all for his tone to shade warm and genuine, though he has to work a little harder for the correct undertone of pride of possession rather than awe. He takes a sip from his drink, hoping the hesitation doesn't come across too clearly as actual reluctance. But something doesn't sit right with him.
But Jean-Luc had asked, as was polite, and it was a perfectly reasonable request, even if it made Josh's skin crawl a little in sympathy. Besides, Alecto could definitely take care of himself...
"If you like," he agrees, leaning back in his chair with apparent ease, his leg tensing underneath the table. The leash coiled uselessly in his pocket reminds him of its presence.
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This does not bode well.
And suddenly, he feels the unfamiliar hand of this other man grab him by the collar and lift him up off the ground. It’s surprisingly rough, making Alecto’s eyes go wide (with a brief flash of anger - but he quells it immediately, knowing just how dangerous such a reaction could be here). Jean-Luc’s hands are surprisingly calloused and wide, and if he had so wanted to, he could have closed almost all of Alecto’s neck in his grasp.
The way he touches him makes Alecto feel sick: it makes him feel like prey.
The man is complimenting him on his skin - “like porcelain” - and the thumb of his other hand comes to swipe over the plush of Alecto’s bottom lip before pushing into his mouth. Alecto starts, feeling violated, but unable to do anything he would normally do, as himself, to stop the assault. He remains still, doll-like, as Jean-Luc presses deeper past his lips, looking at him like he’s about to devour him whole.
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Jean-Luc was simply a very stupid, very entitled rich man, a dime a dozen in a place like this, who happened to possess some very useful, valuable information. He knows how to play this now, exactly how he could turn their conversation to the most productive avenues, how to extract the information M truly wanted with Jean-Luc none the wiser, and then to coordinate with Alecto to extract both of them safely, perhaps even with their covers perfectly intact. He has full faith in him to accomplish this, once they moved past this immediate hurdle.
His body is already moving before he has consciously processed all of that, one hand reaching out to Jean-Luc's wrist and gripping tight, bordering on pain - just a shade tighter than his persona would appear to be capable of on first glance, but far from what he was truly capable of exerting - and the other grabbing his other elbow, forcing him to lower Alecto back down to the ground on his knees, gently. Josh's normally warm eyes are cold, steady, with an undercurrent of anger - but it is the cool, calculated anger of a privileged man who has been insulted, whose property has been disrespected, whose expectations have been disappointed.
"My, my," he says, almost a careless drawl, even as Jean-Luc swears and his grip on Alecto instinctively slackens, his hand falling back down to his side when Josh lets go of his elbow, while maintaining his grip on his other wrist, the one he'd been using to violate Alecto's mouth; he dimly registers movement in the background, one of the uniformed attendants startling on noticing the scene and hurrying in their direction.
"I hadn't expected to be faced with such boorish behavior tonight, after you already arrived late for our appointment." He doesn't sound angry at all, simply displeased. He doesn't openly glance at Alecto at all, now settled back onto his knees on the ground, not even to check that he's okay; in this exchange, Alecto was simply a proxy for the disrespect Christopher Vance had been enduring from this man, who had now crossed a line of behavior that clearly disquieted a few of the onlookers, including the establishment's staff member, who looks anxiously between the two clients. It's very clear that Jean-Luc knew he was in the wrong here, and Christopher Vance was pushing right back, calling him out on it. Josh's expression doesn't change at all outwardly, but Jean-Luc swears again, an exclamation of pain, as Josh tightens his grip ever so slightly on his wrist.
"I could make a complaint," he points out, soft and urbane, utterly and devastatingly polite. "I don't even imagine I would be the first, would I, my friend?"
He can practically read the moment that Jean-Luc's expression shifts to respect, to awareness - not necessarily of any wrongdoing, but at least of having picked the wrong target - and he loosens his grip accordingly, with absolute control, until he lets his own hand fall back down to his side, into his pocket. Jean-Luc visibly sways back, then steels himself and forces out a hearty, booming laugh, looking at Josh with a hint of reluctantly impressed deference.
"Just a misunderstanding, my friend," he responds in kind, and Josh relaxes a little further, visibly allowing the psychological 'stand-down' to show in his changed posture and demeanor; the tension breaks in the atmosphere. "As you didn't have your sub leashed."
He allows a soft smile to show, the dryest of chuckles as he accepts the nonapology in the spirit in which it was meant to be delivered. "Of course," he replies, inclining his head, gracious to a fault; there would be no doubt in the minds of the onlookers who exactly was at fault here. "Then I must apologize to you for not being perfectly clear." He removes the coiled leash from his pocket, and the onlookers breathe metaphorical sighs of relief; this was right back to business as usual, and most of the unwanted attention moves on from the little drama.
"Sit down, Jean-Luc," he invites, all friendly smiles again, and he waves a hand at the attendant, who hurries over. "Another drink for my friend here, and for anyone else who cares to have one," he orders, and the attendant is only too eager to have this over and done with.
Now he turns to Alecto, as the conversation starts up again, and he rests a proprietary hand on his head, delicately takes his chin in hand to look into his eyes, not so subtly retracing the exact places where Jean-Luc had touched earlier.
"Are you ready for your leash now, my pet?"
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When he feels his face being tilted and moved once more, Alecto finds himself peering up gratefully into Josh’s eyes and he nods, making sure he looks sweet and wanting and relieved. He looks at Josh like he’s the only man in this entire room, this entire world. “Yes, master, please.”
He leans forward too, like he’s impatient for it, like he can’t wait to be leashed, can’t wait to be more visibly owned, possessed. Had he a tail, it probably would have been wagging intensely.
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"You're all mine, aren't you, my pet?" He asks, holding up the hook for the leash in front of Alecto's eyes, before linking it with the metal loop for the collar. Despite the din of conversation around them, the arrival of drinks and other refreshments, the quiet echo of the metal clicking into place sounds loud in his ears.
He automatically loops the other end of the leash around his wrist (tying Alecto to him), then turns to face the mark again, leaning back in his chair, apparently at ease.
From his lightning quick assessment, it seems they've made a breakthrough. Whatever Jean-Luc's misgivings had been (likely surrounding his impersonation of this shared lifestyle), they seemed to have been cleared up now. He falls into eager conversation with Josh - with Christopher - this time around, and Josh lets the discussion drift, circling around the matter of the transaction that had been arranged, matters settling easily.
Jean-Luc's mind is clearly elsewhere, likely on the entertainments ahead of him for the night, as he tugs one of his two half naked subs into his lap to tease, his large hand groping him through his tight shorts and forcing him to bite back quiet moans of protest and arousal, and Josh allows himself a carefully calculated expression of interest, of aesthetic appreciation. That seems to encourage Jean-Luc - really, how was it that this man managed to successfully accomplish anything covert? - who grins lasciviously over at Josh.
"Want to give my other one a try, Vance? He's got a great mouth on him, no gag reflex at all." He smirks. "Call it a bonus for your payment."
"I did say to call me Chris," he says, with mock admonishment. They were all friends here, after all. He doesn't glance at Alecto, but his grip tightens infinitesimally on the leash.
How should we keep him talking?
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He hears the mark across the table make an appreciative sound, saying something deeply sexiest (that he probably thought could be taken as a compliment) in response that makes Alecto really have to grit his teeth to avoid reacting to in a way that would give his cover up too obviously. Instead, he kisses Josh's hand - the same one that he tied the tail end of the leash to - and his lips feel warm flesh and leather all the same.
Play along, Alecto takes the chance to mouth against the skin of Josh's knuckle, flashing a quick look up at him to double check he got the message. His timing is impeccable because immediately after, he hear Jean-Luc suggest: "Well, Chris, how about a show then?" before shoving his second sub - a doe-eyed, shaky little thing, towards and onto the table, looking pointedly (helplessly) at Alecto.
Yeah, yeah. He gets it.
Alecto shoots Josh a knowing gaze, waiting for him to give permission.
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He's surprised by exactly how little the sight appeals to him, even purely on aesthetics. He'd always preferred just a little more fire...
"Mm, how could I possibly refuse such a golden opportunity?" He replies with a lascivious sneer, tugging theatrically on the leash in his hand, as though he were forcefully yanking Alecto closer. "You have such excellent taste, my friend." He nods at both subs. "I'm honored my little pet has caught your fancy."
"Now play nice, hm?" He murmurs with a laugh, gesturing for Alecto to climb up onto the table to join Jean-Luc's offering. He lets the end of the leash dangle a bit, on his side of the table, giving Alecto plenty of room to move.
He knows the play now, knows exactly how to subtly turn the conversation to other matters. He has full faith that Alecto will be able to distract the mark sufficiently for him not to realize exactly how much information he was giving away, inadvertently.
He was just. Going to have to do his part, which meant observing Alecto's work with appreciation while not getting too distracted and carefully directing the conversation.
Easy enough, right?
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The poor boy beneath him (he couldn't possibly be any older than his early twenties, if that) is trembling beneath him, and Jean-Luc is saying "Lemme see you grab his ass," and "Bite him," and Alecto pushes down his own disgust and vitriol to do exactly as he's asked because in between all of this, he can hear the Josh driving the conversation back towards the intel they needed. Liquor and words are flowing equally free now and Alecto keeps up the act, delicately vacillating between playfully submissive and carefully alert.
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In the meanwhile, Josh keeps his face appreciative of the show and Jean-Luc's drinks and other refreshments topped off, letting the conversation drift with carefully orchestrated aimlessness towards other interesting topics - carefully framed questions tailor-made to allow Jean-Luc to show off his wealth, his accomplishments, the people he had met, all the things that supported his extravagant lifestyle and means, all the little baubles and favors and connections he was owed by those more rich or powerful than he was.
His ears perk up (he can see the way Alecto suddenly shifts his head to suck a lingering bruise into the boy's collarbone, covering up his own shift in attention with the little hint of extra engagement) when Jean-Luc's recollections drift into some consulting work he'd done recently for a very powerful client, just an AA on a message, I took care of it personally, plus one of my own experts just to do the easy work, the grunt work, you know? It stumped him - me! - for oh, two or three weeks or so, hah, in between other jobs! I haven't seen an encryption like that in a while, couldn't have done it without the key, there's always a risk in that business...
That was a little bit worrying. Even if Josh didn't know the background or exactly what information had been intercepted (Alecto might, even if he hadn't shared with Josh), he knew enough to have a good idea of what this meant. Some enemy actor had somehow obtained a private encryption key, as well as an intercepted message that happened to be decryptable using that key. These keys usually weren't recycled, so there was a chance that they could still stop the bleeding, contain the damage, if they could get a better idea of how many layers had been peeled back, and which countries to keep an eye on that might be acting on that information.
Thankfully, this did mean that overall, security had not yet been entirely compromised, only the individual whose key had - been taken, stolen, given - no matter. It was a place to start. There was a significant difference in response to the potential compromise of all their systems, if Jean-Luc's cryptanalysis expert had somehow managed to reverse-engineer an analytical attack on all the best encryption the Agency or their allies could come up with. This was... doable. Even educational, if they could get any hints as to who that key belonged to.
He lets the conversation continue to play out, noting down any interesting or potentially useful details, including hints about the stolen key; he'd untangle it all later, but there was no immediate urgency, since M was aware of the decrypted message. A papercut was treatable, but a hemorrhage was not.
After a little more time (he winces, thinking of the poor sub lying back on the hard tabletop, and for Alecto's knees), he starts to fidget a little theatrically, glancing around the room and sighing, playing with the loose end of Alecto's leash. By now, Jean-Luc has his other sub giving him a lap dance, while he has his hand shoved into his shorts, palming his cock while the poor thing trembles enticingly and bites down on his own lip.
"Ah, Chris, I see you are interested in exploring the other delights this place has to offer," Jean-Luc booms, having warmed up significantly to Josh's persona and now clearly enjoying himself a little too much. "Let's conclude our boring business and make some rounds, hm? Do allow me the - ah - pleasure - of escorting such a handsome pair and showing you the sights. It's your first time after all!"
He doesn't glance at Alecto, simply sketches a figure eight with his end of the leash, absently.
Is his company worth the potential of extra information?
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The boy beneath him is in the middle of kissing Alecto’s jaw when his master jerks the leash and sends the poor thing half-tumbling off the table with a yelp. Instinctively alecto almost reaches out to help him steady himself but he forces his body to freeze, fingers closing on themselves briefly, flexing. Such an obvious break in his character would be a problem.
Instead he stays quiet and looks back over his pale shoulder at Josh, his lips damp and pink, a silent question (and consent). It’s time to try something else.
Together they head through the neon circus of displays on the floor just above them. It’s littered with a fair number of public scenes - discipline, public humiliation, just to name a few - and Alecto can’t help but show clear interest in a few of them: especially those using spreader bars and rings and other such restraints. He lingers more than he should, allowing Josh to tug him along in a similar way to how Jean-Luc likes to do with his boys and it seems to gain them more favor with the brute. He prattles on, patronizing and sure of himself about how he enjoys putting his subs in their place, how so much of this appeals to him because of that violent freedom to do so. (Alecto knows the truth of course, that Jean-Luc is nothing but a cruel, spoiled man who likes to use his power and influence to hurt other people and any excuse he can find to do so, he’ll exploit).
He’s opening up. Good.
Alecto takes a moment to brush close against Josh as they maneuver through the crowd, somehow managing to make the motion look natural and filled with longing, submission, and whispers against his ear, “You have to treat me rougher. Much more. We’re almost there. He’s starting to like you.”
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In all honesty, though, he's secretly far more interested in observing what Alecto finds appealing. The journey on the car here had been - enlightening and enjoyable in so many ways, and while he could control his physical reactions, he was still feeling a little keyed up about it, letting that emotional arousal translate to the appropriate undertones in the moment now. There's a quiet, logical, distant part of him that points out that Alecto is a very good handler and actor, that there was still a possibility that he had simply been trying to intuit what Josh needed to fulfill this role and then applying himself to the task of supplying the proper motivation. That all of this - the current state of affairs for their cover story, the earlier exchange in the car, the look in his eyes when he was smiling at Josh over a cup of painstakingly brewed coffee in the morning, offering a small genuine compliment - was simply for the sake of the mission.
But down that particular path lay madness, and Josh can't help hoping that, perhaps, in the heat of the moment, he'd could get a glimpse of the real Alecto, of what he else might find appealing in bed, or against a wall, or on his knees... He can see the way his eyes shift for just a few fractions of a second towards some of the displays - the elaborate restraints, the subs with their legs held open by bars and cuffs and other restraints, presenting themselves for punishment to their Doms, crying tears of pain and pleasure and catharsis as red blooms over their bared bodies.
When Alecto steps closer, Josh almost tenses, not sure what to expect, waiting for his cue, but he simply whispers instructions against his ear. He can see Jean-Luc watching them, and he turns his head just enough to look like he's focusing on one of the public scenes - a very elaborate shibari, with the female sub tied upside down, one knee bent and the other leg held up and open - while her Dom plays idly with a flogger, alternately whipping and teasing her with the leather strands.
He tugs hard on the leash, forcing Alecto to step closer in with a little gasp, and he pulls him into a hard, bruising kiss, artfully turning so that Jean-Luc can clearly see the way he slides his palm down along Alecto's mesh shirt to his shorts, grabbing his barely-hidden cock with entitled possessiveness. "Are you imagining yourself up there, my pet?" He asks, pitching his voice just enough for the intent - if not the full content - to carry. He remembers the way Alecto had responded to him in the car, to the way Josh had used his mouth, to the way he'd settled, even almost sleeping, with the head of Josh's cock held in his mouth. The way he'd gone along with Josh's imposition of authority, the way he'd humped at Josh's shoe when he'd rested it between his legs, utterly shameless...
"You'll stay hard for your master, won't you, my pet?" He whispers, and adds, a little louder, "I need to see exactly how much you'll want me, when we're finally by ourselves," seeing Jean-Luc grinning as he saunters closer, trying to hear what they are doing. His eyes seem to light up a little, seeing the way Josh is manhandling Alecto, the way his face is turned towards the crying, whimpering sub being whipped.
"Ah, you reserved yourself one of the private rooms for later, then?" Jean-Luc asks, waggling his eyebrows, sounding impressed despite himself - even if there wasn't a monetary expense, there weren't many rooms available, and you generally needed a connection or an obscenely high fee to get one. "Good! Is your boy even going to be able to walk out of here on his own?" He elbows Josh in the side, tilting his head at one of the more extreme displays, a completely naked male sub on a St. Andrews cross, lash marks already criss-crossed over his body while the Dom swings a rattan cane, making a whistling sound through the air as she demands that he count each strike.
"If you like this kind of thing, my friend, remind me to tell you about a club I went to recently, in Budapest. Very exclusive, invitation only, but my recent client - you know the one - was very appreciative. You could really let go and enjoy yourself there..."
Josh's gaze almost snaps up, his eyes flicking to Alecto. The Agency did have an operative in Hungary, who had been off the grid for some time...
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It makes it far too easy for Alecto to continue playing along. “I wish I was up there for you, master,” he says, pitching his voice to a whine. “I want to be spread open for you, show everyone how wet I can get for you, how badly I need to be put in my place, to be fucked by you.” He clings to Josh, watching the way Jean-Luc’s face lights up at his desperate, purposefully pathetic behavior. The man even licks his lips, very obviously staring at Alecto’s legs, his ass, the bulge of his cock (Alecto sincerely hopes there is a very special ring of hell made just for this man alone).
He presses his lips to the corner of Josh’s mouth, but it’s not demanding, just hopeful, as if he were pleading for a kiss, a real one, but that he wouldn’t dare simply take it.
“I will, master, I’ll stay hard for you. I’ll…try.” He pauses, lashes lowering. “But if I can’t, won’t you have to punish me?” He turns his gaze slowly, seductively to their mark who is now standing uncomfortably close. “Won’t he, sir?” Alecto asks him and Jean-Luc sucks in a sharp breath that smells like expensive tequila and tobacco.
“Oh, yes, he sure will. My, your boy is really something else, Chris. Which reminds me -“
And there he goes, spilling every little secret he has left.
Yes, that’s it. Alecto’s eyes shine with recognition and interest. That’s it. We’ve got it.
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It's a convenient cover for his little startle of reaction, shifting the elation he feels at obtaining the needed information into a lewd display for the benefit of the mark.
Though Josh would be lying if he wasn't getting some (a lot of) guilty pleasure out of it for himself. Even if it was all for show, the tempting seduction in Alecto's words, his teasing gestures, the close contact between them - he doesn't think there are many people who could resist an Alecto determined to draw them in, and he was definitely not among them. He has to cling to the reminder that this was a job, that they were working, and that this was solely to endear themselves to the mark and throw off suspicion.
It doesn't make the buzz of arousal under his skin, his automatic reaction to the way Alecto stares up at him with false submission and adoration on his face, to the sight of his long, long lashes fluttering shut with imagined pleasure - any less urgent.
"Oh, do you want to show yourself off to everyone, my little pet?" He asks, sounding almost sweet, ostensibly whispering to Alecto, but his voice is clear enough for Jean-Luc to hear.
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