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At first, they were little, inconsequential things.
Ordering John to open the door, making him carry and fetch things in public, dropping a dubious comment here and there - nothing that would seem too out of the ordinary if you didn't know the bigger picture. It was enough, though, to bring a delicate flush to John's face and keep him half-hard for surprising amounts of time.
Nothing seemed more attractive to Mycroft than John Watson, trying to hide his visibly tightened crotch while purchasing Mycroft's preferred newspaper like the good boy you are, John, fetch it for me, will you?
Soon, though, Mycroft decided it was time for a proper display, something truly obvious in front of a person who would clearly understand what was happening.
Naturally, Mycroft chose Anthea. She was discrete enough not to mention anything to anybody in case John would need Mycroft to stop, but familiar enough to create a proper challenge for John. Submitting in front of her would make John very uncomfortable - which was exactly what Mycroft was aiming for.
They were at Mycroft's office when he started it. John was patiently waiting in one of the chairs to the side of the room, quietly watching him go over a handful of important papers. It wasn't the first time they were sitting like this, simply enjoying to be in the other one's company before a night of intimacy.
Today, however, things would be different.
"John," he said lightly without looking up. "Why don't you come over here for a second."
Mycroft could hear John hesitate no more than half a second before getting up to do what he was told. Really, John could be the very essence of eagerness and submission. Taking this step would bring him enjoyment he didn't even know he could have.
John came to stand closely to Mycroft's right, clearly unsure why he had been called over.
"Do you need something?" he asked at once, always willing to be of help.
Mycroft suppressed a smile. John really did make it so very easy sometimes.
"I think I would quite like it if you were to kneel next to my chair for a bit," Mycroft stated evenly, as if he were merely asking for a glass of water.
Without having to look, Mycroft knew John was staring at him, probably with that oddly endearing expression of incredulity mingled with an almost instinctual wish to please Mycroft. Over the past months, Mycroft had become quite used to seeing it on John's face.
When, unsurprisingly, no answer or physical reaction followed Mycroft's statement, Mycroft let out an impatient little noise.
"Is there a problem with my instruction, John? Did you not understand what I was saying?"
"No. No, I-"
"Well? What's the matter then? Do kneel down, you are terribly distracting when you're breathing down my neck like this."
A heady rush of satisfaction ran through Mycroft when after a couple more seconds, the rustling of clothes and subtle change of light told him that John had carefully sunk onto his knees. Feeling generous, Mycroft reached for John's head and ran his fingers through the short strands of hair.
"There we go, not so difficult, was it?"
Without ever giving John a single glance, Mycroft returned to his work, never once losing track of what John was doing.
Clearly, the kneeling was uncomfortable enough to keep John completely alert throughout the process. At first, the man managed to keep relatively still, probably reminding himself that Mycroft had asked for no further distractions. Fifteen minutes into their once more quiet companionship, however, and Mycroft could feel him start to shift.
Time to make a move.
Looking up from his papers, Mycroft steadily reached for the intercom.
"Anthea? Would you be so kind as to bring me the file on RL-34? Something seems amiss here."
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Mycroft could virtually feel John tense next to him. A soft sound escaped him, sounding like a cut-off yelp of shock, maybe even protest.
Finally, Mycroft turned to look at him, taking in John's widened eyes that were now glued to the office door as if willing it to keep closed. He had, of course, belatedly realised that anybody entering through the door would get a perfect view of John kneeling by Mycroft's chair like a loyal dog. Unconsciously, he had risen a bit, his backside no longer fully resting on the heels of his feet.
"Is there a problem, John? Did you need to use the bathroom?"
Swallowing, John looked up at him, anxious lines around his eyes.
"No, but-"
"What is it, then?" Mycroft immediately cut through, pointedly raising his eyebrows. "You are a grown man, is asking you to keep still for a bit really such an impossible task to accomplish?"
That shut him up quite nicely. Biting his lip, John lowered his eyes, hands tightening into nervous fists on his legs as he sank back into his former position.
The clicking of high-heels told Mycroft of Anthea's arrival before she even opened the door. John, in his worry, had been listening for a similar sound and another small noise escaped him as he braced himself for the woman's arrival.
Anthea, of course, hardly gave the unusual arrangement a second glance as she entered.
"The file you were asking for, sir," she said with an air of professionalism, stepping close to the desk to deliver it right into Mycroft's hands.
"Thank you, Anthea," he replied with a polite smile.
If John had kept quiet now, Mycroft might have simply let Anthea walk away without any further comment. John might have been uncomfortable when passing her later, but all in all, nothing too terribly intimate would have occured in front of her.
John, however, did not keep quiet. Instead, he took in a rather harsh breath as Anthea casually glanced at him once more and shifted a bit, clearly trying his hardest not to jump to his feet and explain the situation away.
Mycroft simply couldn't let this opportunity pass.
"Did you need anything, John? A glass of water, maybe? I am sure Anthea wouldn't mind getting something for you."
Flushing almost instantly, John frantically shook his head, clearly embarrassed as everyone's focus shifted onto him kneeling by Mycroft's feet. Mycroft, feeling smug, tsked in disapproval.
"Now, that's not how we answer questions properly, is it?" he chastised. "I asked if you needed something."
"No," John managed, voice unusually quiet.
Shaking his head, Mycroft once more reached for John's head, running a firm hand through his hair until he could grab a few strands at the very back, pulling until John was looking up at them properly.
"What was that?" Mycroft asked, unrelenting and John, swallowing audibly, finally managed to give a decent reply.
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
Anthea nodded, her face a mask of calm indifference as she turned to leave the office. Feeling he could push it just a bit more, Mycroft soothingly petted John's head. Just as Anthea had reached the door, Mycroft spoke up.
"Maybe I should make you wear your collar in public, John, it always seems to improve your manners so rapidly at home."
The door closed only seconds after the last word had left his mouth.
Almost immediately, John turned his head away to escape Mycroft's hand, face nearly scarlet with embarrassment.
"You- you didn't have to say that in front of her," he said accusingly.
"Are you telling me what to do now?" Mycroft replied easily.
"When it comes to this, bloody well yes!" John retorted hotly, glaring up at him. "It's not any of her business that I wear the collar, is it?"
"It isn't," Mycroft agreed. "But it does seem to please you that she knows."
Pointedly, he let his eyes rest on the rather prominent bulge between John's legs. In response, John tightly pressed his thighs together, once more biting his lips.
"Stand up, John," Mycroft ordered mildly, unwilling to deal with a night of childish sulking when they could get so much more enjoyment out of this.
For a moment, it did look like John would be stubborn. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, he got up after all. Pushing back his chair, Mycroft used both of his arms to pull John close and settle him in his lap. Very slowly, Mycroft started to unbutton John's trousers.
"You enjoy it," Mycroft observed casually as he worked his hand inside John's underwear, lightly curling his fingers around John's swelling cock.
John gasped at the contact, hands curling around Mycroft's shoulders in order to not lose his balance.
"The minute she set eyes on you kneeling by my feet, I could practically smell your arousal."
Starting a slow rhythm, Mycroft watched John's eyelids flutter and a small, wonderfully indecent moan escaped John's lips.
"I know you enjoy this and this is why we will keep doing this.You love worrying about what she might think now. And secretely, you wish she has seen you for the little slut that you are, don't you?"
Whimpering, John shifted restlessly against Mycroft's hand, face flushed with both arousal and embarrassment.
"Do you want to come, John?" Mycroft asked teasingly, all the while stroking John's hard cock. "Do you want to come right here? She'll know, you realise. Everything about you will scream that you just had an orgasm at my hand. That you get off on kneeling by my side, on her watching you."
Pressing his eyes closed, John jerked his head, half-nodding, half-shaking it.
"That won't do," Mycroft said disapprovingly, ceasing the movement of his hand around John's arousal. John let out a frustrated breath. "Look at me. Now."
Swallowing, John pried his eyes back open, struggling to lock his gaze with Mycroft's.
"Beg," Mycroft ordered. "Beg right now or I'll put on the intercom and have her listen. Would you rather she heard instead of merely knowing?"
Gasping, John opened his mouth. Not a single sound made it past his lips.
For a second, Mycroft actually believed he would be pushing it, would have Mycroft press the button, but then, with Mycroft's finger hovering a mere centimetre over the switch, John finally started talking.
"Please," he begged, eyes flickering from Mycroft's face to his hovering hand, then back to his face. "Please. Please, may I come? May I... please. Please."
Smiling, Mycroft pulled his hand back, using it to steady to John on his lap as he resumed stroking the man's cock.
Less than a dozen firm strokes, and John came quickly and violently, covering both Mycroft's hand and his bunched-up clothes in a surge of sticky semen.
"Good boy," Mycroft purred, John panting loudly against his face as he leaned forward after his relase. "Look at you, spent and soiled on my lap."
Raising his own sticky hand to John's mouth, Mycroft watched him take the hint and carefully lick away the mess he'd made before finally slipping off Mycroft's lap. Frankly, he looked delicious, trousers and pants hanging somewhere around his thighs, sticky and sweaty, his softening cock between his flushed legs.
"I should make you go out like that," Mycroft teased, briefly rubbing off his wet hand against John's shirt. He watched John bite his lips in what was quite obviously a mix of arousal and fear that Mycroft would actually make him.
They both knew Mycroft could make him do it, if he set his mind to it.
As much as the idea was tempting, though, Mycroft could see that this was enough excitement for one day. At least, where the public aspect of their relationship was concerned.
"Set yourself to rights," Mycroft ordered, turning his chair until he was once more faced with the files in front of him. "Kneel back down. We'll leave soon."
Mycroft was sure he seemed perfectly calm to John, even though his own cock was throbbing heavily between his legs. Making John fall apart, making him feel both humiliated and aroused made him hard like nothing else could. They'd see to that later, though.
As for now, Mycroft was rather pleased with John's head carefully coming to rest against Mycroft's thigh once he had knelt back down.