He hums again in clear approval at this exchange while he allows Josh to tug his head down, their mouths mere inches apart. “What you’ve been calling me all night so far,” he says, and then pauses purposefully before adding: “master.”
Alecto sighs happily into Josh’s mouth as he feels him tighten the grip he has on his wrist. He hopes by the end of the night he’ll see a mark there. “After all, aren’t you pleased with your pet, sir?” His free hand travels down to grip Josh between his legs, squeezing his crotch tight and just this side of painful.
For a moment he doesn't react outwardly to Alecto's provocation, his expression almost placid, but there is no mistaking the light of desire and intrigue in his eyes. Then he yanks down hard on the leash, pulling Alecto off balance to fall against him before flipping their positioning, so he can pin him on his back to the bench. It's more of a move from a fight than a seduction, but he trusts Alecto to understand his intention, despite his subpar execution. He slides his knee between Alecto's legs, pressing up against the leather of his ridiculously short shorts, deliberately pressing it against the bulge of his cock. He'd been teasing Alecto all night, manhandling him with impunity under the auspices of their cover story, and while he was no stranger to the sight of Alecto naked and willing above or beneath him, the context was now so different, such a strange, liminal honesty, that he's really not sure what to expect anymore.
He's...excited though.
"I've been very pleased with your behavior all night, my pet," he replies, fingers flexing around Alecto's wrist, pinned above his head, his breath warm against Alecto's ear, his tone a whisper, his fully clothed body a tantalizing weight and contrast above Alecto.
"But right now I think what you really want is for me to truly remind you of your place."
He pulls away, just as suddenly as he'd moved in close, leaving Alecto on the bench on his back. His eyes rest thoughtfully on the bulge of his erection, barely hidden by the tight leather, even though it is certainly restrained by it, but then his eyes slide upwards to the collar, still wrapped around Alecto's slim neck.
"I want to see you on your knees for me," he says, quiet, but sure. "I want to see how you look at me when it's just us."
He’s taken entirely by surprise when Josh pins him down. When his back hits the bench he gasps involuntarily, eyes going wide as he looks up at Josh in a sudden moment of real helplessness. It lasts barely a second but Alecto is thrilled by this obvious show of Josh’s strength and physical brawn. It’s always so well hidden, beneath that reserved, warm demeanor that pushed forward a look of intense normalcy.
Alecto doesn’t even realize it when he starts to rut against Josh’s thigh, the insistent pressure of that hard knee against his straining cock -
And as quickly as it happened, it stops and Alecto finds himself flushed and breathless and scrambling to pretend that he isn’t.
“Yes, master,” he somehow manages to say, forcing his voice to be even and soft. He watches the way the leash tethers him physically to Josh. “I think I would benefit from a good reminder.”
When next he meets Josh’s eyes, there’s a twinkle of a challenge there. Alecto stays still for a moment longer, so curious -
He notes the obvious hesitation, the way Alecto meets his gaze. Insolent is the word that comes to mind, but the concept is so foreign to Josh in the context of him and Alecto that his brain struggles briefly with the notion.
His body has no such qualms. He pulls hard on the leash, a visible snap of tension tautening the leather, causing the collar to dig in a little into the skin of Alecto's neck, without dragging him out of position entirely against his will.
"Given how much you know you'll enjoy that, my pet," he says, a chilly menace, a cool, icy anger, sliding into his tone, "you don't seem at all eager to just let me give you the reminder you're asking for." He wraps the leather of the leash in slow, deliberate loops around his fingers, picking up only the slack, at first, but with each rotation the tension steadily increases. In a moment, either Josh will have to step forward, or Alecto will be forced to move in obedience to the weight of silent command.
He suppresses a pleased smile when he sees and feels Josh tug on the leash, making it tense between them. The way the leather digs into his throat makes Alecto reel a little, hoping by the end of the night, there could be a mark left there, some small proof of him having been made to submit to Josh like this.
He falls to his knees then, gracefully, off the bench and onto the floor, letting the combined pull of the leash and collar around him tug his face upwards. His eyes are clear with want but his face remains demure, flushed, eager, excited. “I just like getting you riled up, sir.” I know you like it too.
Alecto knows him far too well, and they are both deeply aware of that fact. It had been a foundational basis for all their missions together, and Josh at least attributed a lot of his successes to that. Their recent missions together had only underlined the reliance and trust he had on and in Alecto Crabtree and he feels no different right now, watching him settle gracefully onto his knees, eyes sparking with challenge and curiosity. He can feel the rising pace of his heartbeat, the less physical thrum of excitement to rise up to, meet, and maybe even exceed expectations.
His gaze slips sideways briefly, to the various tools and other implements now very much at his disposal. But then he moves forward, the leash shortening between them with each and every step, until he is standing barely an arms length away from Alecto. He reaches down, cupping his face with his still-gloved hands, tilting it up for him to see.
"I know. I also know just how much you enjoy being put through your paces, my pet," he says, thumb tracing along Alecto's bottom lip. "So, if you can't - or won't - stay still for me on your own, shall I make you?" His eyes flick to the spreader bar again, alert for Alecto's reaction.
It took some time for Alecto to learn how to read Joshua Archer but once he had, it felt as natural and easy to do, to comprehend, as speaking his own mother tongue. There were a few tricks to it, sure, as there always were with any language (body or otherwise): but with time and practice and exposure, it becomes second nature. It was a crucial skill for a handler to have anyhow, to be able to understand their agent as thoroughly as possible, to be able to anticipate their intentions or needs in any context or moment. In many cases, this made the difference between life and death.
This is something Alecto knows for a fact by now: so much about Joshua was hidden in subtlety, in slight of hand, in making you look exactly where he wanted you to and not where you should, so it's difficult to pin down his true feelings. But luckily, Alecto's talented at overcoming such ruses. He knows exactly when Josh is uncertain about something (it's in the twitch of his brow), or when he's feeling exhilarated (it's tucked in the quiver of his upper lip), or when he's cocky (this one is obvious. Does he need to even say it?). And right now, Alecto could feel just how restrained Josh was being, how it was contained in just that one swipe of his thumb across Alecto's lip, how he hesitated just a little as if debating whether or not to go any further.
But that's ok. Alecto can work with that.
Alecto flicks his tongue out, feels the smooth leather of the gloves Josh still has on. "I think you have to make me, master," he murmurs, chancing a look as well at the variety of...tools at their disposal. "I don't feel like behaving tonight."
He can see and note where Alecto's gaze goes without breaking the eye contact between them, but the sight of Alecto's tongue, sliding with curiosity over the butter soft leather of his gloves, is hard to pull away from regardless.
"Then perhaps I need to remind you of your place first," he says silkily, and then he drops the leash and reaches out to grab Alecto directly using the collar instead, pulling him off balance and closer to Josh, his foot slotting between his knees where he was kneeling, an echo of that moment in the car, the hard bulge of Alecto's cock, wrapped in those tight leather shorts, pressed against his shoe.
"You've been hard all night, my pet." He says, matter-of-factly; his tongue stutters on the phrase that bubbles up - for me. "Do you need some relief?" He slides his foot forward, presses deliberately and none-too-gently against his erection. "If I told you to get yourself off, until you made a mess of yourself in those shorts, what would you do?"
He's mostly making conversation, curious as he is to hear the response. He knows what he wants to do next - wants Alecto bound up for him, perhaps to one of the specialized pieces of furniture spread out for them around the room, and he wants to pull out some of the toys he'd been oh-so-thoughtfully provided in the briefcase, which had invaded his brain the moment he'd laid eyes on them, and give Alecto the marks he'd been angling for, pinking his skin and seeing exactly how he reacted, physically, to the crop and perhaps a whip biting into his skin while he writhed and ached, begging for -
He bites back a groan, swallows it, feels it go back down with a tremble. His hips rock against Josh’s shoe, against the sharp tip of it and he feels light-headed with pleasure. It’s clear he wants more, pressing purposefully against Josh’s foot, making the pressure far harder - the way he likes it.
But Alecto isn’t one for mess.
“I would do that for you, master,” he replies, but he stares at Josh, knowingly, “Although…that’s not what you want, is it? No,” Alecto’s hands slide down his body, slowly down the smooth lines of his torso, knees spreading just so, “you want me bound and open for you, on display. Helpless but to take whatever you give me.”
He doesn't bother hiding the light and interest in his eyes. What was the point? If anyone knew him, in all the messy, intertwined chaos of his life as a spy, it was Alecto Crabtree. This wasn't about surprise or duty, nothing in service to any of their missions. Instead, it was an unexpected indulgence. This wasn't about Christopher, or Thomas, or any of a long line of aliases marking time back to when they'd first begun working together.
For him, at least, this was about being himself, in conversation and mutuality. He's still not entirely sure whether he can have an expectation for what that meant for Alecto.
"You're right," he says, simple, straightforward. "I do want to see you like that, use you like that." He gestures to the room and all its potential arrangements. "So how exactly do you want to please me, my pet? Take your pick."
He glances around the room and immediately something catches his attention and his eyes dart to it before going back again to Joshua's face. He looks so incredibly present, fully in this moment they're sharing together, that it makes Alecto's heart do an unexpected leap.
"I want you to use the spreader bar over there on me. Make it so that you can spread me open and bare for you, so I don't have a choice but to be at your mercy like that."
He looks anything but commanding as he's splayed on the floor, leashed and practically being stepped on. But his words are smooth and confident, even if his body language is pliant, submissive, and eager.
"Do you want me to stretch you out for me right here on the floor, my pet?" he asks, calm and steady, his tone one of polite inquiry rather than anything more urgent, though his heartbeat is quickening in his chest. "Or shall I make you crawl to something a little more suitable?" He's curious about Alecto's preferences, in this room with so many options at their disposal.
His next breath hisses out with the enormity of lust and want and desire he feels at Alecto's words, and he reaches down for the clasp where collar and leash meet, letting his hands slide along the length of leather and tugging Alecto just enough to direct him.
"You want to be held open for me, my pet?" he asks, almost thinking out loud, his steps slow and steady, just enough for the leather to shift towards tautness without digging in, for Alecto to have to make the choice between dignity and obedience in their interactions together as Joshua leads him towards one of the padded benches, at the perfect height and position for Alecto's body to be within easy reach for all manner of potential tools or gestures, if the niggling desire to put him through his paces could be trusted. Alecto is beautiful in his submission, crawling gracefully for Josh, at his direction, and the enormity of the implication makes Josh dizzy with want, with the spark of creativity it fans into an open flame, his entire body flushed hot with anticipation in all the layers he is wearing.
"You're mine, after all, to touch and tease and use however I choose." There is no longer even the slightest hint of uncertainty in his tone or demeanor, as he gestures for Alecto to stand and lean over the bench for support, and he takes hold of the leash, leans down to hook the end into one of the metal rings screwed into the base of the bench. More a symbolic gesture than anything else; there was just enough slack for Alecto to be able to stand normally, if he wanted to, but the click of the leash, the level of control it implied, the implication - that Alecto was nothing more than a pet, subject to the whims and desires and orders of his master...
He slides his hands up his legs, fingers warm against the tight leather shorts as he tests Alecto's willingness to be manhandled, his balance and the level of arousal he feels. "I want to see how hard you are for me, my pet," he murmurs, finally hooking his fingers in the shorts and starting to peel them back and down and off by slow inches, pushing down Alecto's thighs and pausing. They were so short and so tight that they barely left anything to the imagination, the contrast between Josh's full suit and layers already apparent, but there was a world of difference between barely clothed and fully naked, and he intended to savor that reveal and touch his fill, groping Alecto proprietarily, without doubting his welcome for a moment, his still-gloved hand gripping Alecto's cock and pumping, the shorts a tight restriction around his knees as he tries to keep his balance. It's a lovely counterpoint to Alecto's stated desire to be spread wide for Josh's use, forcing him to stand in that awkward position, bent over and restrained by his own clothing and the leash around his neck.
Somehow, he manages to make crawling on all fours and getting tied to a bench seem elegant and delicate. Every motion, every arch of his body is measured and careful, held at the perfect, most appealing angles. Even now, as he stands, bent at the waist, with his legs spread wide and held apart by his ridiculous shorts, Alecto looks nearly artful, all long lines and sharp angles. Even his face has an almost resplendent expression even though his fingers curl with tension against the seat cushion he's bracing himself upon, and he's biting down on his lip to quell the sound of his panting as Josh's hand works in determined strokes up and down his leaking cock.
"Feels good, master," he whispers, the faintest purr of pride leaking into his voice, utterly taken by Josh's performance thus far. "I love showing myself off to you like this."
He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, the briefest, airiest "Ah," escaping him and scattering his thoughts, and when he feels the insistent press of a thumb against his foreskin, tugging it back just this side of harshly, Alecto groans with pleasure. His thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself in position, and he can't wait for what Josh might demand of him next -
"Can I come, master? Can I - mm - make a mess for you yet?"
"You know, I don't think you want it badly enough just yet, my pet," he replies matter-of-factly, still fondling Alecto without even a hint of hesitation, toying with his cock, his balls, his smooth thighs, as though he were a plaything, an object, solely meant to serve Josh's whims and pleasure.
"No, my pet, you're going to wait," he says, as if making a decision, announcing the exact course of the night. It's not even phrased as a demand - that would be an acknowledgement of Alecto's agency, that there was a personality that needed to be accommodated, rather than a helpless and willing body for him to use however he pleased.
His gloved hand slides down between Alecto's legs, stroking over his balls, ignoring the desperate length of his cock for the moment. He weighs them in his palm, bare of any cover, the contrast of butter-soft leather and blood-warm skin heady and even for him; he wonders how Alecto feels about it. He shifts his fingers, curling them upwards, fingertips stroking along Alecto's sensitive perineum behind his cock and balls, a gentle but insistent pressure, as a hint of things to come (heh).
Absolutely incredible, he thinks, as Josh takes more and more of the reigns, tightens his hold on them and metaphorically pulls.
Alecto pushes back against the hand teasing him, playing with him. Josh knows more than enough about his body and all the spots that make him squirm to really get Alecto worked up, to dangle him delicately in front of the promise of explosive pleasure and make him desperate enough to work for it.
Alecto makes a pleased sound, a whimper of bliss. Josh is speaking to him like he’s nothing, like he’s just a mindless object to be used however Josh wanted, for him and him alone. It makes Alecto feel so held, so cared for, and so horribly aroused. His dick twitches suddenly, pre gathering quickly at the head and dripping onto the bench beneath him.
“Yes, master,” he says, turning to look at Josh over the pale curve of his shoulder. “I don’t have the right to come, you’re right. I have to earn it, don’t I? Please. Make me.”
He lets go of Alecto, meeting his eyes steadily as his fingertips dance up the curve of his backside and along the long line of his spine, bent over and presented for Josh's avid gaze.
"You do so want to be good for me, don't you, my pet?" He asks, his palm resting between Alecto's shoulderblades, a deceptively gentle pressure through the thin mesh of the shirt. "You want my marks on you, showing everyone exactly how I've used you, that you belong to me?" He unhooks the buttons holding the shirt together, one by one. Objectively, Alecto looks far from dignified at the moment - his tight leather shorts pulled down to his knees, the shirt falling open around his torso, his hard, dripping cock pressed up against his stomach making it clear how worked up he is from the night and the treatment so far - and Josh cannot pull his eyes away.
"Take your pants off," he orders, airy and unconcerned, and lets the shirt drop to the ground next to the bench. He steps back, curious what Alecto will do. "I want to see you completely bare for me, my pet, except for my collar around your neck, reminding you exactly who you belong to."
Alecto and the concept of good don't always align. He's never been, objectively, a good person and, as his job requires, often finds himself sitting comfortably in moral gray areas. And, he's never really been good in the other sense either: coloring within the lines, following directions, observing social graces. No, Alecto preferred to make things uncomfortable, to ask difficult questions and make risky moves, be a challenge.
And that's exactly why he loved being put into his place like this, in the intimacy of a scene, under the calm and steady hand of a man he - no, he's not in love, don't be ludicrous - trusts. Everywhere else, Alecto has his carefully cultivated walls, masks, and metaphorical knives. He keeps his cool, his edge, and stays mission-driven. It keeps him and the people under his care alive.
It's only here, in this private moment, that Alecto ever obeys another.
Slowly, he strips himself out of his pants. It's only one piece of simple clothing but Alecto takes his time, inching his way out of it as if pushing the fabric down to the slow beat of a song only he can hear. He slides one long leg out, then the other, and kicks the offending thing under the bench, stretching just a bit before getting back down on all fours and peering up at Josh with nothing but focused attention and the will to please him. The leash at his neck, tethering him, swings lightly as if begging to be held, tightened.
He waits until Alecto is entirely back in position again, settled down while facing Josh and waiting for his next directive. There's something so hot and intent in his gaze, wholly different from the looks they exchanged even in the aftermath of the directed and almost ritualistic sessions that had been deemed necessary for the long-term cover identities. There were still moments of connection - Josh still remembered that first exchange, fucking Alecto against the kitchen counter, the way he'd said 'Josh' when he came - but Alecto was fastidious and otherwise perfectly professional. If Josh had to put a label on it, it sometimes felt like he was being graded and - well, usually he wasn't found wanting, per se, he could pride himself on that much, at least - scoring adequately. A fulfillment of a duty that happened to be physically enjoyable, but nothing more than that.
This was... something else entirely.
"Stay," he says, his tone forceful but even, as though he weren't affected by the sight of Alecto stripping down for him at his orders, by the way he gazes at Josh with his focus utterly fixed on him, by long limbs and a body utterly on display for his eyes alone.
He forces himself to turn around, to walk with steady steps and not a hint of impatience, to select the toys and implements that had caught his eye (or that seemed to have caught Alecto's own interest and attention, that he had managed to observe) and bring them back within easy reach. He takes his time, passing them before Alecto's gaze, ever attentive and attuned to his reactions. There is the spreader bar, of course, the obvious choice, given Alecto's earlier suggestions, but he notices a humbler - two carefully shaped halves with a hole between them for Alecto's scrotum, which would render him utterly unable to shift from a bent position without causing himself pain - and sets it within sight but out of reach, a silent threat (or promise). He removes the leather cuffs and the riding crop from the briefcase he'd been carrying about all night and tries not to think too much about their provenance. He selects a wooden paddle, considers his options for positioning, and keeps it close by.
He wants to hear Alecto, wants to hear the way his calm, measured words, each one carefully calculated, dissolve into incoherence, if Josh can manage it, so foregoes any gags or other restraints for the moment. Besides, in a pinch, he could definitely improvise.
"You barely have any of my marks on you, my pet," he points out, sounding thoughtful and vaguely displeased. "How are people supposed to know you belong to me like this?"
"Well. I haven't done anything to earn them yet, have I, master?" he replies back, smoothly, placing his words under the careful cloak of submission. His body language too is pliant and soft, thighs spread just so to be teasing and inviting, but not obviously His eyes though, his sharp gaze - Alecto always had trouble tempering them. They're bright and eager and vibrant with something vicious, determined, expectant.
He glances up at Josh, at the several tools and toys he's brought over (he stares at the riding crop with extreme interest), and unconsciously wets his lips, leaving them slightly parted afterwards, plush and damp.
There is a pause - just a fraction of a second - as Josh struggles to process the implications, trying to determine the right kind of response. (He also kind of hates that he now knows far too much about exactly how in tune M was with the sexual preferences of at least some Agency employees, even if it did cast a very different and intriguing light on some of the other items in that briefcase...)
He reaches forward and grabs Alecto's trailing leash, tightening the strap by slow degrees until the hook is linked about halfway down the length, tugging Alecto down further, until he is being forced into an almost-bow, unable to raise his head higher than the level of his hips, a position that accentuates his slightly spread legs and his ass, making them readily accessible to whatever Josh might choose to do to him.
He gazes up into Alecto's eyes from his briefly kneeling position, still fully clothed, still utterly in control. "And what is it you think you can do to earn your stripes, my pet? Other than following my orders?" He knows exactly what he wants to do next, but he holds his breath all the same, waiting for Alecto's answer.
He slides his hand up to Alecto's collar, feeling almost daring, as though he were taking a significant liberty, and hooks his fingers in the metal ring for the leash, pulling Alecto forward - not enough to drag him off the bench, but just enough to force him to lean on Josh, to rely on the steadiness of Josh's hold to maintain his balance - and kisses him, hard, demanding, insistent, absolutely assured of his compliance.
"Oh, you will, my pet," he whispers, the slightest hint of teeth. "You will."
He suddenly pulls back, shrugs his clothes back into perfect array, and reaches for the spreader bar before walking around Alecto to put the restraint on him, cuffing his ankles and positioning his legs so they just match the width of the bench, spreading him out to Josh's view and whims without straining his balance. He seems utterly composed as he adjusts the tightness, the fit. "I'll keep your hands free, for now," he says, letting his own slide up along Alecto's thighs, palming one cheek of his ass possessively, as if testing how he might react to a slap. "But if you don't behave, that can easily be changed for you."
He straightens again, and walks back into Alecto's field of vision, reaching for the riding crop, and swishing it experimentally, making it whistle through the air. Apparently satisfied with his handling of the implement, he slides the leather tip up along Alecto's neck, using the slightest pressure on his chin to force him to look up, his own eyes intent on Alecto's face. "I have a feeling red is a lovely color on you, my pet," he observes, almost condescendingly. "Shall we test that out? Stay still."
The movement is barely visible, a small flick of the wrist, the edge of the crop leaving a gentle sting against Alecto's right cheek, then his left. There is the slightest hint of a test, a threat - a reminder for absolute obedience and stillness.
He allows Josh to restrain and arrange him as if he were nothing but a doll to be posed to its owner’s desires. And Alecto keeps himself still and quiet, only occasionally letting out small sounds of delight or surprise at Josh’s sudden, warm touch: on his ankle, up his thighs, gripping his ass so hard it feels like it might bruise.
But what really starts to crack his composure is seeing Josh with the crop. Seeing him fully dressed and how he grips the handle with his still gloved hands, uses it with such ease and purpose. Alecto feels his throat go dry when his face is tilted up before the crop meets his cheeks in two successive smacks, the sting and sound of it making his dick twitch. His skin starts to smart but only slightly. Not nearly enough, he thinks.
Now, he knows Josh is holding back, is waiting to build this up with some degree of controlled suspense but Alecto can’t help but shooting him a targeted glance that almost seems to say, playfully: I know you can do better than that. But that specific glance melts away almost as quickly as it flew onto Alecto’s face and in the blink of an eye, he’s back to being demure and wanting, mouth partly open on a gasp.
“That feels good, master,” he says, a little dreamily. “I like that a lot.”
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Alecto sighs happily into Josh’s mouth as he feels him tighten the grip he has on his wrist. He hopes by the end of the night he’ll see a mark there. “After all, aren’t you pleased with your pet, sir?” His free hand travels down to grip Josh between his legs, squeezing his crotch tight and just this side of painful.
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He's...excited though.
"I've been very pleased with your behavior all night, my pet," he replies, fingers flexing around Alecto's wrist, pinned above his head, his breath warm against Alecto's ear, his tone a whisper, his fully clothed body a tantalizing weight and contrast above Alecto.
"But right now I think what you really want is for me to truly remind you of your place."
He pulls away, just as suddenly as he'd moved in close, leaving Alecto on the bench on his back. His eyes rest thoughtfully on the bulge of his erection, barely hidden by the tight leather, even though it is certainly restrained by it, but then his eyes slide upwards to the collar, still wrapped around Alecto's slim neck.
"I want to see you on your knees for me," he says, quiet, but sure. "I want to see how you look at me when it's just us."
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Alecto doesn’t even realize it when he starts to rut against Josh’s thigh, the insistent pressure of that hard knee against his straining cock -
And as quickly as it happened, it stops and Alecto finds himself flushed and breathless and scrambling to pretend that he isn’t.
“Yes, master,” he somehow manages to say, forcing his voice to be even and soft. He watches the way the leash tethers him physically to Josh. “I think I would benefit from a good reminder.”
When next he meets Josh’s eyes, there’s a twinkle of a challenge there. Alecto stays still for a moment longer, so curious -
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His body has no such qualms. He pulls hard on the leash, a visible snap of tension tautening the leather, causing the collar to dig in a little into the skin of Alecto's neck, without dragging him out of position entirely against his will.
"Given how much you know you'll enjoy that, my pet," he says, a chilly menace, a cool, icy anger, sliding into his tone, "you don't seem at all eager to just let me give you the reminder you're asking for." He wraps the leather of the leash in slow, deliberate loops around his fingers, picking up only the slack, at first, but with each rotation the tension steadily increases. In a moment, either Josh will have to step forward, or Alecto will be forced to move in obedience to the weight of silent command.
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He falls to his knees then, gracefully, off the bench and onto the floor, letting the combined pull of the leash and collar around him tug his face upwards. His eyes are clear with want but his face remains demure, flushed, eager, excited. “I just like getting you riled up, sir.” I know you like it too.
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His gaze slips sideways briefly, to the various tools and other implements now very much at his disposal. But then he moves forward, the leash shortening between them with each and every step, until he is standing barely an arms length away from Alecto. He reaches down, cupping his face with his still-gloved hands, tilting it up for him to see.
"I know. I also know just how much you enjoy being put through your paces, my pet," he says, thumb tracing along Alecto's bottom lip. "So, if you can't - or won't - stay still for me on your own, shall I make you?" His eyes flick to the spreader bar again, alert for Alecto's reaction.
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This is something Alecto knows for a fact by now: so much about Joshua was hidden in subtlety, in slight of hand, in making you look exactly where he wanted you to and not where you should, so it's difficult to pin down his true feelings. But luckily, Alecto's talented at overcoming such ruses. He knows exactly when Josh is uncertain about something (it's in the twitch of his brow), or when he's feeling exhilarated (it's tucked in the quiver of his upper lip), or when he's cocky (this one is obvious. Does he need to even say it?). And right now, Alecto could feel just how restrained Josh was being, how it was contained in just that one swipe of his thumb across Alecto's lip, how he hesitated just a little as if debating whether or not to go any further.
But that's ok. Alecto can work with that.
Alecto flicks his tongue out, feels the smooth leather of the gloves Josh still has on. "I think you have to make me, master," he murmurs, chancing a look as well at the variety of...tools at their disposal. "I don't feel like behaving tonight."
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"Then perhaps I need to remind you of your place first," he says silkily, and then he drops the leash and reaches out to grab Alecto directly using the collar instead, pulling him off balance and closer to Josh, his foot slotting between his knees where he was kneeling, an echo of that moment in the car, the hard bulge of Alecto's cock, wrapped in those tight leather shorts, pressed against his shoe.
"You've been hard all night, my pet." He says, matter-of-factly; his tongue stutters on the phrase that bubbles up - for me. "Do you need some relief?" He slides his foot forward, presses deliberately and none-too-gently against his erection. "If I told you to get yourself off, until you made a mess of yourself in those shorts, what would you do?"
He's mostly making conversation, curious as he is to hear the response. He knows what he wants to do next - wants Alecto bound up for him, perhaps to one of the specialized pieces of furniture spread out for them around the room, and he wants to pull out some of the toys he'd been oh-so-thoughtfully provided in the briefcase, which had invaded his brain the moment he'd laid eyes on them, and give Alecto the marks he'd been angling for, pinking his skin and seeing exactly how he reacted, physically, to the crop and perhaps a whip biting into his skin while he writhed and ached, begging for -
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But Alecto isn’t one for mess.
“I would do that for you, master,” he replies, but he stares at Josh, knowingly, “Although…that’s not what you want, is it? No,” Alecto’s hands slide down his body, slowly down the smooth lines of his torso, knees spreading just so, “you want me bound and open for you, on display. Helpless but to take whatever you give me.”
A breath.
“Isn’t that right?”
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For him, at least, this was about being himself, in conversation and mutuality. He's still not entirely sure whether he can have an expectation for what that meant for Alecto.
"You're right," he says, simple, straightforward. "I do want to see you like that, use you like that." He gestures to the room and all its potential arrangements. "So how exactly do you want to please me, my pet? Take your pick."
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"I want you to use the spreader bar over there on me. Make it so that you can spread me open and bare for you, so I don't have a choice but to be at your mercy like that."
He looks anything but commanding as he's splayed on the floor, leashed and practically being stepped on. But his words are smooth and confident, even if his body language is pliant, submissive, and eager.
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"Make me crawl," he says, voice surprisingly steady and equally as calm, though it's clear his breath is starting to go a bit ragged.
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"You want to be held open for me, my pet?" he asks, almost thinking out loud, his steps slow and steady, just enough for the leather to shift towards tautness without digging in, for Alecto to have to make the choice between dignity and obedience in their interactions together as Joshua leads him towards one of the padded benches, at the perfect height and position for Alecto's body to be within easy reach for all manner of potential tools or gestures, if the niggling desire to put him through his paces could be trusted. Alecto is beautiful in his submission, crawling gracefully for Josh, at his direction, and the enormity of the implication makes Josh dizzy with want, with the spark of creativity it fans into an open flame, his entire body flushed hot with anticipation in all the layers he is wearing.
"You're mine, after all, to touch and tease and use however I choose." There is no longer even the slightest hint of uncertainty in his tone or demeanor, as he gestures for Alecto to stand and lean over the bench for support, and he takes hold of the leash, leans down to hook the end into one of the metal rings screwed into the base of the bench. More a symbolic gesture than anything else; there was just enough slack for Alecto to be able to stand normally, if he wanted to, but the click of the leash, the level of control it implied, the implication - that Alecto was nothing more than a pet, subject to the whims and desires and orders of his master...
He slides his hands up his legs, fingers warm against the tight leather shorts as he tests Alecto's willingness to be manhandled, his balance and the level of arousal he feels. "I want to see how hard you are for me, my pet," he murmurs, finally hooking his fingers in the shorts and starting to peel them back and down and off by slow inches, pushing down Alecto's thighs and pausing. They were so short and so tight that they barely left anything to the imagination, the contrast between Josh's full suit and layers already apparent, but there was a world of difference between barely clothed and fully naked, and he intended to savor that reveal and touch his fill, groping Alecto proprietarily, without doubting his welcome for a moment, his still-gloved hand gripping Alecto's cock and pumping, the shorts a tight restriction around his knees as he tries to keep his balance. It's a lovely counterpoint to Alecto's stated desire to be spread wide for Josh's use, forcing him to stand in that awkward position, bent over and restrained by his own clothing and the leash around his neck.
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"Feels good, master," he whispers, the faintest purr of pride leaking into his voice, utterly taken by Josh's performance thus far. "I love showing myself off to you like this."
He squeezes his eyes shut briefly, the briefest, airiest "Ah," escaping him and scattering his thoughts, and when he feels the insistent press of a thumb against his foreskin, tugging it back just this side of harshly, Alecto groans with pleasure. His thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself in position, and he can't wait for what Josh might demand of him next -
"Can I come, master? Can I - mm - make a mess for you yet?"
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"No, my pet, you're going to wait," he says, as if making a decision, announcing the exact course of the night. It's not even phrased as a demand - that would be an acknowledgement of Alecto's agency, that there was a personality that needed to be accommodated, rather than a helpless and willing body for him to use however he pleased.
His gloved hand slides down between Alecto's legs, stroking over his balls, ignoring the desperate length of his cock for the moment. He weighs them in his palm, bare of any cover, the contrast of butter-soft leather and blood-warm skin heady and even for him; he wonders how Alecto feels about it. He shifts his fingers, curling them upwards, fingertips stroking along Alecto's sensitive perineum behind his cock and balls, a gentle but insistent pressure, as a hint of things to come (heh).
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Alecto pushes back against the hand teasing him, playing with him. Josh knows more than enough about his body and all the spots that make him squirm to really get Alecto worked up, to dangle him delicately in front of the promise of explosive pleasure and make him desperate enough to work for it.
Alecto makes a pleased sound, a whimper of bliss. Josh is speaking to him like he’s nothing, like he’s just a mindless object to be used however Josh wanted, for him and him alone. It makes Alecto feel so held, so cared for, and so horribly aroused. His dick twitches suddenly, pre gathering quickly at the head and dripping onto the bench beneath him.
“Yes, master,” he says, turning to look at Josh over the pale curve of his shoulder. “I don’t have the right to come, you’re right. I have to earn it, don’t I? Please. Make me.”
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"You do so want to be good for me, don't you, my pet?" He asks, his palm resting between Alecto's shoulderblades, a deceptively gentle pressure through the thin mesh of the shirt. "You want my marks on you, showing everyone exactly how I've used you, that you belong to me?" He unhooks the buttons holding the shirt together, one by one. Objectively, Alecto looks far from dignified at the moment - his tight leather shorts pulled down to his knees, the shirt falling open around his torso, his hard, dripping cock pressed up against his stomach making it clear how worked up he is from the night and the treatment so far - and Josh cannot pull his eyes away.
"Take your pants off," he orders, airy and unconcerned, and lets the shirt drop to the ground next to the bench. He steps back, curious what Alecto will do. "I want to see you completely bare for me, my pet, except for my collar around your neck, reminding you exactly who you belong to."
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And that's exactly why he loved being put into his place like this, in the intimacy of a scene, under the calm and steady hand of a man he - no, he's not in love, don't be ludicrous - trusts. Everywhere else, Alecto has his carefully cultivated walls, masks, and metaphorical knives. He keeps his cool, his edge, and stays mission-driven. It keeps him and the people under his care alive.
It's only here, in this private moment, that Alecto ever obeys another.
Slowly, he strips himself out of his pants. It's only one piece of simple clothing but Alecto takes his time, inching his way out of it as if pushing the fabric down to the slow beat of a song only he can hear. He slides one long leg out, then the other, and kicks the offending thing under the bench, stretching just a bit before getting back down on all fours and peering up at Josh with nothing but focused attention and the will to please him. The leash at his neck, tethering him, swings lightly as if begging to be held, tightened.
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This was... something else entirely.
"Stay," he says, his tone forceful but even, as though he weren't affected by the sight of Alecto stripping down for him at his orders, by the way he gazes at Josh with his focus utterly fixed on him, by long limbs and a body utterly on display for his eyes alone.
He forces himself to turn around, to walk with steady steps and not a hint of impatience, to select the toys and implements that had caught his eye (or that seemed to have caught Alecto's own interest and attention, that he had managed to observe) and bring them back within easy reach. He takes his time, passing them before Alecto's gaze, ever attentive and attuned to his reactions. There is the spreader bar, of course, the obvious choice, given Alecto's earlier suggestions, but he notices a humbler - two carefully shaped halves with a hole between them for Alecto's scrotum, which would render him utterly unable to shift from a bent position without causing himself pain - and sets it within sight but out of reach, a silent threat (or promise). He removes the leather cuffs and the riding crop from the briefcase he'd been carrying about all night and tries not to think too much about their provenance. He selects a wooden paddle, considers his options for positioning, and keeps it close by.
He wants to hear Alecto, wants to hear the way his calm, measured words, each one carefully calculated, dissolve into incoherence, if Josh can manage it, so foregoes any gags or other restraints for the moment. Besides, in a pinch, he could definitely improvise.
"You barely have any of my marks on you, my pet," he points out, sounding thoughtful and vaguely displeased. "How are people supposed to know you belong to me like this?"
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He glances up at Josh, at the several tools and toys he's brought over (he stares at the riding crop with extreme interest), and unconsciously wets his lips, leaving them slightly parted afterwards, plush and damp.
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He reaches forward and grabs Alecto's trailing leash, tightening the strap by slow degrees until the hook is linked about halfway down the length, tugging Alecto down further, until he is being forced into an almost-bow, unable to raise his head higher than the level of his hips, a position that accentuates his slightly spread legs and his ass, making them readily accessible to whatever Josh might choose to do to him.
He gazes up into Alecto's eyes from his briefly kneeling position, still fully clothed, still utterly in control. "And what is it you think you can do to earn your stripes, my pet? Other than following my orders?" He knows exactly what he wants to do next, but he holds his breath all the same, waiting for Alecto's answer.
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"I want to be useful to you, master," he says, carefully, as if the words themselves taste so sweet. "I want to bring you pleasure. Please. Let me."
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"Oh, you will, my pet," he whispers, the slightest hint of teeth. "You will."
He suddenly pulls back, shrugs his clothes back into perfect array, and reaches for the spreader bar before walking around Alecto to put the restraint on him, cuffing his ankles and positioning his legs so they just match the width of the bench, spreading him out to Josh's view and whims without straining his balance. He seems utterly composed as he adjusts the tightness, the fit. "I'll keep your hands free, for now," he says, letting his own slide up along Alecto's thighs, palming one cheek of his ass possessively, as if testing how he might react to a slap. "But if you don't behave, that can easily be changed for you."
He straightens again, and walks back into Alecto's field of vision, reaching for the riding crop, and swishing it experimentally, making it whistle through the air. Apparently satisfied with his handling of the implement, he slides the leather tip up along Alecto's neck, using the slightest pressure on his chin to force him to look up, his own eyes intent on Alecto's face. "I have a feeling red is a lovely color on you, my pet," he observes, almost condescendingly. "Shall we test that out? Stay still."
The movement is barely visible, a small flick of the wrist, the edge of the crop leaving a gentle sting against Alecto's right cheek, then his left. There is the slightest hint of a test, a threat - a reminder for absolute obedience and stillness.
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But what really starts to crack his composure is seeing Josh with the crop. Seeing him fully dressed and how he grips the handle with his still gloved hands, uses it with such ease and purpose. Alecto feels his throat go dry when his face is tilted up before the crop meets his cheeks in two successive smacks, the sting and sound of it making his dick twitch. His skin starts to smart but only slightly. Not nearly enough, he thinks.
Now, he knows Josh is holding back, is waiting to build this up with some degree of controlled suspense but Alecto can’t help but shooting him a targeted glance that almost seems to say, playfully: I know you can do better than that. But that specific glance melts away almost as quickly as it flew onto Alecto’s face and in the blink of an eye, he’s back to being demure and wanting, mouth partly open on a gasp.
“That feels good, master,” he says, a little dreamily. “I like that a lot.”
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