Work Text:
Previously-
"You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on stand-by to take you whenever you want to go, you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It's fine whatever you decide."
"Just open the damn door, Magnus." I say voice shaking and nerves almost frying from how on edge they are.
He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what's in here. Taking a deep breath I walk in.
And it feels like I've time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.
Holy fuck.
Now-
The first thing I notice is the smell ; leather, wood, polish with a spicy citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle. In fact, I can't see the source, but it's around the cornice in the room, emitting an ambient glow. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark burgundy, and the floor is an old varnished wood, giving the room an almost timeless feel. There is a large leather cushioned cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of what seems to be high end italian leather, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner. Above it is an expansive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hung all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles. By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.
Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed to contain specimens in a hundred year old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold. Do I want to know? In the far corner is an black leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the opposite corner - polished wood with intricately carved legs - and two matching stools underneath.
But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger than king-size, an ornately carved rococo four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming padded chains and cuffs. There is no bedding... just a mattress covered in purple leather and plum satin cushions piled at the left end of the bed.
At the foot of said bed; set apart a few feet, is a large black chesterfield couch, just stuck in the middle of the room facing the bed. An odd arrangement... to have a couch facing the bed , and I smile to myself - I've picked on the couch as odd, when really it's the most mundane piece of furniture in the room. I glance up and stare at the ceiling. There are carabiners all over the ceiling at odd intervals. I vaguely wonder what they're for. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and black leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic.. . I know it's anything but, this is Magnus's version of soft and romantic.
It's sweet really. I think to myself as I turn towards the shorter male who's already regarding me intently as I knew he would be, his expression completely unreadable. I walk further into the room, and he follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued. I touch it hesitantly. It's suede with a bunch of long thin strings hanging from the end of a thick braided handle.
"It's called a flogger," Magnus's voice is quiet and soft.
A flogger?
I think I'm in shock. My subconscious has either been struck dumb or simply keeled over and expired, like a helpless little puppy . I am numb. I can observe and absorb but not articulate my feelings about all this, because I am in shock. What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a complete freaky sadist or masochist? Fear? Yes, that seems to be the overriding feeling. I recognize it now. But weirdly not of him - I don't think he'd hurt me-well, not without my consent. So many questions cloud my mind and I feel myself blinking through the haze like an airplane gliding through the mist.
Why?
How?
When?
How often?
With who?
I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the intricately carved posts. The post is very sturdy, the craftsmanship outstanding and smooth to the touch despite the bumpy looking engravement.
"Say something," Magnus commands, his voice deceptively soft, so much so that it almost comes out as a plea.
"Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?"
His mouth quirks up, either amused or relieved, I couldn't tell my head was too busy spinning to try to despair his ever hidden moods.
"People?" He blinks a couple of times as he considers his answer. "I do this to men and women who want me to."
I don't understand.
"If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?"
"Because I want to do this with you, very much. "
"Oh," I gasp out hands trembling and clutching together for some sort of stability.
I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist high padded bench and run my fingers over the leather. He likes to hurt people. The thought depresses me.
"You're a sadist?"
"I'm a Dominant." His eyes are scorching and golden, intense like the sun.
"What does that mean?" I whisper.
"It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me Alexander, in all things."
I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea, clearly very confused.
"Why would I do that?"
"To please me," he whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile grace his always painted lips.
Please him. He wants me to please him. I think my mouth drops open and I realize, in that moment, that yes, that's exactly what I want to do. I want him to be delighted with me.
It's a fucking revelation.
"In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me," he says softly. His voice is hypnotic, like the toll of a clock lolling me into a false sense of serenity.
"How do I do that?" My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Okay, I understand the pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir-torture set up. Do I want to know the answer?
"I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. But If you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn," he whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as he says this .
"And where does all this fit in?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.
"It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment."
"So you'll get your kicks by exerting your will over me?"
"It's about gaining your trust and your respect Alexander, so you'll let me exert my will over you. I would never ever do anything without your consent.”
And I believe him.
“I will gain a great deal of pleasure , joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy - it's a very simple equation."
"Okay, and what do I get out of this?"
He looks up at me with concern almost dripping out of his golden eyes, his tough guy exterior falling for just a fraction of a second and revealing the real Magnus Bane underneath.
He is breathtaking.
"You get to feel everything I do but times that tens fold. You get to feel high levels of pleasure and pain and you get to cum knowing that everything you do is giving me great pleasure as well. While I may be the one in charge Alexander you are the true one who makes all the rules and holds all the reins. If we did this, we would do it together as a team. When I feel good you do as well or we stop everything." he says with such conviction and passion it leaves me breathless.
Oh my. Magnus rakes his hand through his dark hair as he gazes up at me.
"You're not giving anything away, Alexander, we give together" he murmurs, "Let's go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It's very distracting having you in here."
He holds his hand out to me, and while before I would have been hesitant to take it, I go to grab it gently. His way of speaking is so mesmerizing, he could make me sell my soul and I would agree without an argument.
Jace had said he was dangerous, while yes he was right, he is dangerous to my health, but I know I'm still going to say yes .
I am so out of my depth here.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Alexander." His golden orbs implore, and I know he speaks the truth. He squeezes my hand reassuringly, and he leads me out of the wooden room.
This sudden look into the shut and locked door of Magnus Bane’s soul is exhilarating. I need more.
"If you decide to do this, let me show you something-." Rather than going back downstairs, he turns right out of the playroom, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pass several doors until we reach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, everything all in various shades of black and grey; the furniture, walls and even bedding. The room however held the most glorious view of Seattle through the glass wall. The room feels like what you would see when you entire hell for the first time and decide to stay instead of go to heaven.
"This will be your room Alexander. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here."
"My room? You're expecting me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice, the haze of shock slowly starting to evaporate.
"Not full time. Just say, Friday evening through Sunday. We still have to discuss all that. If you want to do this," he adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.
"I'll sleep here?"
"Yes."
"Not with you."
"No. I felt it would be better to have you sleep in a separate room then me to give you a small bit of privacy" His eyes are soft, and body language uncomfortable.
My mouth presses into a hard line as I try to swallow down my disappointment like the bitter aftertaste after one bite of pure sugar.
"Where do you sleep?"
"My room is downstairs. Come, you must be hungry."
"Weirdly, I seem to have lost my appetite," I murmur petulantly, my stomach was already full of butterflies.
"You must eat, Alexander," he admonishes before taking my hand and leading me back downstairs.
When we land back in the impossibly big room, I am filled with deep trepidation. I am on the edge of a precipice, and I have to decide whether or not to jump.
"I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, Alexander, which is why I really want you to think about this. You must have some questions," he says as he wanders into the kitchen area, releasing my hand, but not without a gentle pat first.
I do. But where to start?
"You've signed your NDA, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer."
I stand at the breakfast bar watching him as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plate of different cheeses with two large bunches of green and red grapes. He sets the plate down on the worktop and proceeds to cut up a French baguette.
"Sit." He points to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, and I obey his command.
If I'm going to do this, I'm going to have to get used to it. I suddenly realize he's been this bossy since I met him .
"You keep mentioning a discussion?"
"Yes."
"What kind of discussion?"
"Well, apart from the NDA, we need to talk about what we will and won't do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Alexander."
"And if I don't want to do this?"
"That's fine," he says carefully, his eyes downcast when he speaks.
"But we won't have any sort of relationship?" I ask.
"No."
"Why?"
"This is the only sort of relationship I'm interested in."
"Why?"
He shrugs, shoulders tensing up as he cuts.
"It's the way I am."
"How did you become this way?"
"Why is anyone the way they are Alexander? That's kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Speaking of- do you like cheese? Mrs. Jones, my housekeeper has left this for supper." He takes some large, white plates from a cupboard and places one in front of me.
We're talking about cheese?
"What are your rules that I have to follow?"
"I have them written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten."
Food? How could I possibly eat now?
"I'm really not hungry," I whisper.
"You will eat," he says simply. Dominating Magnus, it all becomes clear. "Would you like another glass of wine?"
"Yes, please."
He pours wine into my glass and comes to sit beside me. I take a hasty sip.
"Help yourself to food, Alexander."
I take a small bunch of grapes. This I can manage. However he narrows his eyes, almost like he is disappointed in me.
"Have you been like this for a while?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Is it easy to find people who want to do this?"
He raises an eyebrow at me.
"You'd be amazed," he says dryly.
"Then why me? I really don't understand." I bit into my lip instead of the grape that I have squeezed in between my fingers.
"Alexander, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone." He smiles ironically. "I'm like a moth to a flame." His voice darkens. "I want you very badly, especially now, when you're biting your lip again." He takes a deep breath and swallows.
My stomach somersaults - he wants me... in a weird way, true, but this beautiful, strange, eccentric, kinky man wants me.
"I think you have that cliché the wrong way round." I grumble. I am the moth and he is the flame, and I'm going to get burnt. I just know it.
"Eat."
"No. I haven't agreed to anything yet, so I think I'll hang onto my free will for a bit longer, if that's okay with you."
His eyes soften, and his lips turn up in a smile.
"As you wish, Mr. Lightwood."
"How many people?" I blurt out the question, but I'm just so curious .
"Seventeen."
Oh... not as many as I thought .
"With a zero behind it."
I about choke on my grape.
“One hundred and seventy people?”
Oh my god.
“That was all in the past Alexander, ancient history. But right now I’m here, with you.”
“Yeah me, and one hundred and seventy other memories.”
It goes silent for a second before Magnus sighs and sets down the knife. “Look.”
When I don't look up immediately Magnus repeats himself.
“Look.” This time I hesitantly bring myself to look up at him from underneath long lashes. He smiles softly for a split second before saying. “I am who I am, you are who you are. And nothing we do can change that, so let's just try to make the best of it.” The words almost sounded like an order more than a plea.
“Ok.” I say softly before looking back down at the crushed grape in between my fingers.
It goes awkwardly quiet for a second before I blurt out another awkward question,. "Have you ever hurt anyone?"
Oh my god just kill me now.
"Yes."
Holy shit, my heart stops at his answer. I wasn't actually expecting him to answer.
"Badly?"
"No."
"Will you hurt me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Physically, will you hurt me?"
"I will punish you when you require it, and it may be painful. But I would never hurt you without your consent Alexander."
I think I feel a little faint. I take another sip of wine. Alcohol - this will make me brave. Or make you puke all over yourself again, my self conscious adds.
"Have you ever been beaten?" I ask.
"Yes."
Oh, that surprises me. Before I can question him on this revelation further, he interrupts my train of thought.
"Let's discuss this in my study. I want to show you something."
Another surprise.
This is so hard to process. Here I was foolishly thinking that I'd spend a night of unparalleled passion in this man's bed, and here we are negotiating this weird arrangement.
I follow him into his study, a spacious room with another floor-to-ceiling window that opens out onto the balcony. He sits at his desk, and motions for me to sit on a leather chair in front of him, before he hands me a piece of paper.
"These are the rules. I typed them up so it is easier to reread and therefore remember. They may be subject to change, of course if you don't like something we can change that. Read these rules and let's discuss."
-
THE RULES
Obedience:
The Submissive will obey instructions given by the Dominant, failure to do so will end in punishment. (Punishments will be discussed further.)
The Submissive will agree to any (or all) sexual activities deemed fit and pleasurable by the Dominant as well as the Submissive, excepting those activities which are deemed limits.
Sleep:
The Submissive will ensure they achieve a minimum of six hours of sleep a night when they are not with the Dominant.
The Submissive will also set up a nightly routine and that can be discussed further with the Dominant and Submissive regarding exactly what the nightly routine will Intel.
Food:
The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain their health and well being.
The Submissive is allowed to have up to two snacks a day, but snacks do not replace meals.
The Submissive also has to take pictures (when able to, if not able then a text is required) of their meal so that the Dominant is aware they are eating enough.
Clothes:
The Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize.
The Dominant shall accompany the Submissive to purchase clothing (if available) if not available then the Submissive must take pictures of the clothing and get the Dominant's approval before buying anything.
Personal Safety:
The Submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs, or put themselves in any unnecessary danger.
Personal Qualities:
The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant (unless further discussed.)
Endnotes:
Other rules could be added with further discussion between the Dominant and the Submissive.
Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant. (Within the discussed limits.)
-
Holy fucking hell.
"What are limits?" I ask my voice squawking halfway through the question.
"What you won't do, what I won't do, we need to specify before we begin anything."
"I'm not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong." I shift uncomfortably, the word 'Faggot' rattling round my head.
"I want to lavish money on you, let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions, and I want you dressed well. I'm sure your salary, when you do get a job, won't cover the kind of clothes I'd like you to wear."
"I don't have to wear them when I'm not with you?"
"No."
"Okay." Think of them as uniform. Just like what you would wear at The Institute.
He purses his lips at me.
"So, limits. These are mine." He hands me yet another piece of paper before I could even process the first one.
-
Magnus Bane's Hard Limits
No acts involving fire play
No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof.
No acts involving needles, knives, piercing, or blood.
No acts involving medical instruments
No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin.
No acts involving breath control.
-
Ugh. He has to write these down! Of course - they all look very sensible, and frankly, necessary... any sane person wouldn't want to be involved in this sort of thing surely?
Now I feel a little queasy.
"Is there anything you'd like to add?" he asks kindly.
Shit. I have no idea. I am completely stumped. He gazes at me and furrows his brow.
"Do you need time to think about it?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
I shift uncomfortably and bite my lip, my long fingers coming up to rack through my unruly hair, as he looks down at me clearly puzzled.
"I've never done anything like this."
"Well, when you've had sex, was there anything that you didn't like doing?"
For the first time in what seems to be ages, I blush.
"You can tell me, Alexander. We have to be honest with each other or this isn't going to work."
I shift uncomfortably again, crossing one long leg over the other and stare down at my knotted fingers.
"Tell me," he commands; asks politely.
"Well... I've not had sex before, so I don't know." My voice is meek. I glance up at him, and he's staring down at me, mouth-open, frozen, and pale - really pale.
"Never?" he whispers. I shake my head in response.
"You're a virgin?" he breathes. I nod, flushing again. He closes his eyes and looks to be counting to ten. When he opens them again, he's embarrassed, staring at me like I had two heads.
"Oh my- that makes so much since." He runs his hands over the top of his perfectly styled hair clearly not caring about messing it up. "Why didn't you tell me Alexander?"
He sounds so devastated.