Chapter Text
If Simon were a more honest man, he would be able to admit to himself that he was nervous.
The good news for him was that he wasn’t a more honest man. The bad news? His team knew him too well, and he had no doubt in his mind that Johnny would be able to see through him the moment he arrived.
Worse still, the nerves weren’t the only thing he was having to fight. Simon hadn’t expected the negotiations to have an effect on him beyond the anxiety of opening up to someone. He had assumed the entire thing would feel like getting his teeth pulled, each answer forced out of him unwillingly. Apparently neither Johnny nor his cock had gotten the message. He had been half-hard the entire time, imagining all of the things Johnny could, and hopefully would , do to him.
Having Price’s watchful eye and Gaz’s sly remarks hadn’t been half bad either. There had been a lingering sense of guilt though, over letting Johnny help him instead of Price, but the captain had put that to an end quickly. “ I couldn’t give you what you really need, lad. Not for now, at least. John’s good for you, that’s all I care about.” That was all Price had said, a knowing smile on his face when Simon had lingered behind.
Not for now, at least.
There was a thought. Filing it away for later, Simon turned back to the task at hand. Johnny had given him a task to have ready by their scene, and he’d be damned if he let his dom down so quickly. Luckily, it was a relatively easy order. Johnny had swung by his room earlier that morning, a large duffle bag in hand that Simon immediately clocked as his assigned dominants bag.
Each dom and sub were given their own bags to keep their private scene things in, which meant each bag was as different as its owner. He knew Prices held snacks, Gaz’s favourite vibrator, a reward chart, as well as a few punishment things. He had never looked in Gaz’s, but the other submissive had told him about it, that it held his favourite blanket and stuffed animal for aftercare, the collar Price had gifted him after making their dynamic truly official, as well as some other toys.
Simon’s was empty.
Maybe that would change soon.
But Johnny’s was bulky, much fuller than many peoples, and when he handed it to Ghost it had some weight to it. “Yer gonnae pick out four things ye wannae use tonight, as well as somethin’ fer punishments and rewards. Can ye dae that fer me?” he purred, tipping his head back to look up at Simon with a dangerous smile. Simon had been so close to hitting his knees right then and there so he could beg Johnny not to make him wait. But he had been good, had given a shy “ yes sir,” which had earned him a biting kiss, before Johnny went on his merry way to prepare.
Now, he had the bag's contents spread across his bed, his head dizzy with options.
Johnny’s bag was a masochist's dream and a sadist's playground. He had a lovely assortment of different impact toys, several of which had to have been custom made with how cruel they looked.
The first thing Simon had set aside for the night was a bundle of soft rope, coloured in a dark pine green, that had a set of bottle caps paired with it. They were sharper than normal and Simon couldn’t help but shudder at the idea that each point had been carefully honed by Johnny himself. They would leave marks for days, accompanied by stinging pain if he irritated them too much.
Exactly what he wanted.
The next item he grabbed was a gorgeous dragon tail whip, deep blue in colour with a nice heft to the handle that had him nearly salivating.
It was clear to Simon, as he sorted through each toy and tool, that Johnny took care of his things to an extreme. Leather was conditioned and maintained, wood was polished until it shone, each coil of rope was carefully bound together to prevent any frays, and he had a strange feeling that Johnny would take care of him just the same. Simon could see it now, clear as day. After a long session, he would carefully wipe Simon down and patch up any damage he had caused. He would massage his sore limbs gently, let him float in that soft space while he watched over him, coaxing him into eating little snacks and sipping on water. The thoughts brought a tender smile to Simon’s face, fingers tracing idly over an odd looking flogger that was shaped like snakes.
Eventually, he had the four items he wanted to use set to the side. It had the rope and dragon tail, as well as a set of primal claws and vampire gloves. All that was left now was to decide on something for rewards and punishments. The reward was easy enough, his hands instinctively closing around a set of wax play candles, eager to earn the right to feel the warmth burning into his skin. The punishment was a lot harder. Pain by itself was clearly a no go, so they’d have to get creative with it. Simon’s gaze drifted over what remained in the bag, until finally they paused on one option, an idea lighting in his head.
Perfect.
Johnny felt ready to vibrate out of his skin by the time he and Price finished getting the room set up. Since this was their first time sceneing, it had been agreed upon to have it a neutral but familiar place.
Price’s office.
The chairs had been moved aside, set up with a good vantage point to watch but not interrupt the flow of the scene. Price’s desk was cleared of anything that would get in the way if they needed it, and the small fridge in the corner was now stocked with juice and water, along with several different easy snacks. They had even rounded up all the softest blankets Johnny had, folded neatly on the couch within easy reach once it was time for aftercare.
Now, there was nothing else to do but fetch Simon and Kyle.
He had said as much to Price, who had waved him off with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t worry about that, lad. Kyles been nattering on about this all morning, they’ll be here soon,” he reassured, settling back in his seat with a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other. He looked every bit as powerful as Johnny knew him to be and, even though he was minutes away from starting his first scene with Simon, he couldn’t help the way his mouth watered at the sight. You would have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to believe that John Price was a meal worth savouring.
That particular thought process was interrupted by a soft but impatient knock on the door, earning Johnny a smug look from Price. “Awa’ an bile yer heid,” he grumbled, though the warmth in his tone negated any of the irritation he had pretended to hold, as he went to pull the office door open.
He’d just grabbed the handle when the door swung open, nearly smacking Johnny in the face as Gaz shoved his way into the room, freezing the moment Price gave him the look . Flashing Johnny a sheepish smile, Gaz ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry Tav, just excited is all,” he apologized, perking up when Johnny waved him off with his own warm smile before bounding away to join Price on the couch. Turning back towards the door, Johnny’s smile softened as he found Ghost waiting before him, hands fidgeting with the black duffel bag in his hands.
Gently, Johnny pulled the bag away from him, setting it just inside the office before reaching up to smooth a hand along Simon’s mask-covered cheek, delighting in the shiver it earned him. “Ye ready?” Johnny asked quietly, the question softened by the tender affection dripping from his tone. It didn’t save Simon any when he nodded however, Johnny’s blue eyes sharpening as he frowned. “Words, Simon. Ye ken the rules,” he scolded, tapping the heel of his hand against the larger man's face, firm enough to get his point across without bringing any pain.
“Yes Sir,” Simon rasped, eyes wide and eager, despite the shake in his words.
Pleased with the easy obedience, Johnny nodded. “Good boy, thank ye. Do ye want tae keep yer mask on?”
Simon paused, head tipping as he thought it over. Johnny waited patiently, still smoothing his thumb back and forth over where the apple of Simon’s cheek would be, content to stand here as long as it took. “Do- do you want me to take it off?” he asked slowly.
“Ah want ye tae be comfortable,” Johnny responded, careful to keep his tone neutral. He refused to sway Simon either way. Of course he would kill to see Simon’s face, flushed with the pain and pleasure Johnny was about to inflict on him, but not if it brought him discomfort.
Nothing was worth that.
There was a considering look in Simon’s gaze now, glancing towards Price and Gaz, before he gave a single sharp nod. Instinctively, Johnny began to draw his hand away, until his wrist was captured quickly and pulled right back to its position. “Take it off,” Simon said softly, keeping his dark eyes pinned on Johnny as the Scot did as he was told, pulling the mask up and away, a bright smile appearing immediately.
“There’s mah bonnie lad,” he murmured quietly, smoothing down the fly-away strands of blond hair affectionately. He allowed himself one last moment to drink everything in before slowly stepping backwards into the office.
All throughout his life, Johnny had heard people talk about their dominant side like it was a different being. Some said it was like a beast on a chain, one they only let out when it was time to play. Others said it was like possession, their needs and desires taking the front seat for each scene.
Johnny disagreed.
As he stepped backwards, his posture loosened, becoming languid and relaxed. For him, domination was like a second set of clothing, well worn yet sturdy. It made him feel powerful, that much was true, but it also made him feel secure . The knowledge that he was capable of giving his sub what they needed and wanted? It was a heady feeling, one that he let wash over him as he watched Simon closely, waiting for him to step into the office as well. That was their signal.
Once the door was shut, all bets were off.
He didn’t have to wait long, Simon following after him only a moment later, allowing the office door to swing shut with a click that, to Johnny, was as good as a gunshot.
Wordlessly holding out a hand, Johnny was quickly handed a pillow from Price, tossing it onto the floor at his feet. Turning his attention away from Simon, Johnny snapped his fingers toward it while moving towards the duffel bag waiting for him. Behind him, he could hear Simon quickly dropping to a kneel on the pillow, but paid him no mind as he carried the bag to Price's desk before peering inside.
Grinning wickedly, Johnny quickly began pulling out the implements his sub had chosen for their scene, lining them up side by side with a practice precision. From where he kneeled, Simon wouldn’t be able to see the order Johnny had arranged them in, something the dominant had done intentionally. Still not ready to give the kneeling sub his attention, he instead turned his gaze to Price, who had a lapful of his own squirming sub while the pair watched them intently. “Ye have any hard point’s in here?” he asked, pleased when the captain nodded towards a few discrete ones he’d had installed.
“Also got an anchor in the floor, just under the desk,” Price added knowingly, glancing at the rope on his desk.
Perfect.
Grabbing the bundle, Johnny finally returned his attention to Simon who, though he had remained on his pillow, was now squirming impatiently. That wouldn’t do. Clicking his tongue in mock disappointment, striding forward quickly to tangle his hand into the brits hair, yanking his head back harshly. The moan it earned him had Johnny laughing cruelly, sneering down Simon as he shook him back and forth like a dog. “Havenae even done anythin’ tae ye and yer already squirmin like a whore,” he cooed, condescension dripping from his voice. “Yer lucky ahm feelin’ nice, ah’ll help ye stay still. Strip.”
Releasing Simon’s head, Johnny once again didn’t bother waiting to see if Simon obeyed, confident that, at least for now, the sub would obey him. Instead, he turned back to the anchor Price had mentioned, kneeling down and peering under the desk to find it. It was tucked in close to the back of the desk, just a small anchor given that nothing would be suspended from it. Perfect for Johnny’s needs. Ducking under the desk, it only took him a few minutes to tie a reinforced lark's head, double checking that it was centered on the bite before carefully pulling the rope through the bottom of the desk, until he reached the pillow where Simon knelt, now devoid of his clothing.
Grabbing the back of the sub’s neck, Johnny pushed down steadily until Simon was bent forward in a bastard version of child's pose, legs spread in a way that surely would have his hamstrings burning by the end, arms stretched out in front of him. Humming softly, Johnny knelt before him, carefully binding Simon’s hands in a boatswain's cuff before sitting back. “Anythin’ pinchin’ or hurtin’?” He asked softly, carefully checking the tension between the rope and Simon’s wrists.
“No Sir.”
“Good. If that changes, ye ken what tae dae,” he murmured, pulling the clicker from his pocket to press it into Simon’s hands, making sure the wristlet was in place before stepping back to admire his work.
Johnny had kept the rope short, forcing Simon’s weight forward onto his knees. Like this, Johnny would have access to the full expanse of the man's back, as well as his creamy smooth ass. Pacing around Simon, Johnny let his steps fall harder than usual, grinning as the older man flexed with each movement. “Aye, pretty little thing like ye was jus’ made fer me,” he hummed softly, finally reaching the desk again.
Lips pursing, Johnny carefully picked up the primal claws Simon had chosen, slipping them onto his fingers one by one. He had made these himself, the tips curved and wicked in their sharpness, something that he found most others lacked. They were created for sensation play, but his were made to hurt . He couldn’t wait to see how many ways he could make Simon howl for him, eagerly moving back to his subs side.
Placing one sharp nail against the curve of Simon’s shoulder, Johnny smiled down at him despite knowing the man couldn’t see it. “Give me a colour, dove,” he said sweetly, his touch barely there.
“Green si- Oh fuck!”
In one movement, Johnny had pressed down into the soft skin and slashed downwards, leaving a trail of red down Simon’s shoulder blade. He had been careful not to cut into the skin, aiming more for the sudden sting that the sub was surely feeling now. One after another, more lines joined the first, painting Simon’s back in a lattice of red that mostly centered on the center of his back.
Simon had been letting out soft little whines with each stroke, squirming frequently in a way that had Johnny tsking again. “Still cannae stay still, hmm?” he hummed, plucking the primal claws off his hand, letting them fall onto the desk loudly. Simon tensed, attempting to lift his head up enough to see what Johnny was doing, only to be shoved back down.
“Think you’ll have to teach him,” Price rumbled, gaze hungry as he looked over Simon approvingly. Johnny preened at the silent praise, lips curling as he slid the vampire glove onto his dominant hand, eager to prove himself to his captain.
Moving behind Simon, Johnny smoothed a hand over the swell of the larger mans ass, squeezing it meanly before nodding. “Aye, no one’s taught him tae behave. Lucky fer him, ahm a very thorough teacher,” he murmured, finally pulling his non-gloved hand away. Without warning, he swung his other hand forward, the spikes making contact with the meat of Simon’s ass with a dull noise that was nearly unheard beneath the pained cry it brought forth. It was harsh enough to make Johnny pause, running a soothing hand over the subs hip, brows furrowed. “Colour.”
For a long moment, Simon didn’t answer him, back heaving as he panted into his arms in a way that had Johnny’s heart dipping in concern. Finally though, Simon twisted his head to stare at Johnny, expression already fucked out. “Green, so fuckin’ green, please ,” he whined, arching his back in an attempt to return Johnny’s attention to his ass.
A bark of laughter escaped the Scot, fondly shaking his head. “Perfect little pain slut,” he teased, pressing his gloved hand back onto Simon’s ass and dragging it across the sensitive skin there, just to hear the sinful whine it earned him. “Since ye asked so nicely…” The next hit was harder, pulling a shriek from Simon that had Johnny's cock throbbing in his jeans. “Sing fer me, dove,” he groaned, raining down smack after smack onto the thick plush of Simon’s ass, mesmerized by how it jiggled beneath each hit.
It didn’t take long for the tears to start, beautifully accompanied by a chorus of shrieks and moans. Like this, spread out and weathering the pain so beautifully for Johnny, there was something almost ethereal about Simon. Miles of pale skin that shifted into a beautiful red, locks of blond silk darkened by sweat, tears spilling from those whiskey warm cow eyes….
Johnny hadn’t been a religious man in a long time but after being exposed to this holy sight? Well, perhaps there was a higher power after all.
By now there was no doubt that Simon’s ass had to be burning, likely to bruise deliciously in the next few days. Satisfied with his work, Johnny stepped back to peel the glove off, only to freeze when the action pulled a whine from Simon, different than his pleased ones from before, accompanied by several sharp clicks . Immediately, Johnny was kneeling in front of Simon, gentle hands cupping the man's face worriedly. “Shh, hey ahm right here dove, talk tae me,” he murmured, heart clenching at the pleading look Simon aimed at him.
“Don’t go,” Simon rasped, tipping his face further into Johnny’s warm hands. His pretty eyes were hazy from subspace, not quite fully under yet but close enough to leave him feeling especially vulnerable. When Johnny stepped back, Simon must have panicked that he was being left.
Cooing softly, Johnny gently brushed the hair back from Simon’s face, leaning in to press featherlight kisses along his brow. “Ahm nae goin’ anywhere love, ah promise. Was just takin’ off the glove to switch out,” he reassured warmly, one hand cradling the subs face as he pressed their foreheads together. Johnny felt more than saw Simon’s jerky nod, pressing a kiss to his nose before pulling back just enough to really look at him. “Dae ye wanna call it here, dove?”
Simon nodded hesitantly, disappointment written across his face. Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle at the little pout his sub was sporting, so unlike Simon’s usual gruff. “Dinnae fash now, dove. Ye did so good fer me,” he murmured warmly, grabbing the safety sheers from his bag. Normally he would take his time untying Simon, but it was clear that the sub didn’t want him going far, and trying to undo his knots with one hand would be damn near impossible. Instead, he quickly but carefully cut through the rope binding Simon's hands, rubbing across the raw skin gently. “Ye ken we can try the dragon tail anytime,” he added affectionately, slowly helping the large man sit up. He figured that was the main source of disappointment, but Johnny had already worked him over rather thoroughly. Simon may be a masochist, but the Scot would much rather work his way up slowly, not wanting to cause any long term damage.
The way Simon hissed as he settled onto the pillow supported that idea. Johnny hadn’t taken it easy on him and he was sure Simon’s backside, from his shoulders down to his sit spots, would be perfectly sore for the next few days. Leaning himself back against Price’s desk, Johnny opened his arms toward Simon with a smile. “C’mere love, lemme have a look at ye,” he coaxed, delighted when the Brit crawled forward enough to let Johnny reach for him. Gently tugging the man over his lap, Johnny arranged Simon stomach down so he could inspect the damage to his back. A few of the scratches from the primal claws had broken the skin, though not deep enough to truly bleed. Still not wanting to risk any issues arising, Johnny hauled his bag closer to dig out his first aid supplies, cleaning each scratch diligently with gentle swipes. Once everything was cleaned to the dom’s standards, he smoothed a hand over the overly warm skin on Simon’s ass.
He could soothe some of the ache with the arnica cream he kept in his bag, to help keep the bruising to a minimum. But steamin’ Jesus would Simon look stunning with his pale skin decorated in wreaths of purple and blue, the very thought making something hot and possessive curl around Johnny’s throat. “Ye want me tae put some cream on these?” he asked finally, fighting to keep his voice even despite how his instincts snarled at the very thought. Simon was the one who would have to live with the pain, so he should get to make the call, not Johnny.
Simon squirmed for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he thought over the offer. Ultimately, he shook his head. “S’not bad, and-” he paused, eyes cutting towards Price and Gaz who, thankfully, had turned to their own conversations in a bid to give the pair privacy for aftercare. “I…like having the reminder,” he finally finished, cheeks nearly the same bright red as his backside was.
Johnny could have purred at the answer, clearly happy with the knowledge that his sub would enjoy wearing the marks he had given, preening as he ducked down to rub his brow against Simon’s shoulder. “Thank ye fer lettin’ me dae this,” he whispered, achingly soft and quiet enough that it was only for Simon to hear.
Rather than try to drag his voice up for a response, Simon instead nuzzled his face into the crease of Johnny’s hip, sighing contently as Johnny ran his fingers through his hair. Both would have been content to stay just like this, for the rest of their lives. Surrounded by the men they trusted more than anyone else on earth, tucked away in the safety of Price’s office where it felt like no harm could ever come to them.
There was change in the air, the buzz of something new and wonderful lingering on uncovered flesh, the promise of better things to come. What it was, none could say for certain. But they would face it together, as they had done for years now. They were a pack, finally evened out and balancing each other in a way that could only strengthen them further.