Chapter Text
Mycroft’s eyes widened as Lestrade pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, deft fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt and exposing bare skin. He shivered as warm breath exhaled over the tummy he was desperately sucking in. The hands touching him felt different from any that had touched him before. There was a gentleness, a tenderness, a careful quality under the drunken fumbling of the gloriously beautiful Detective Inspector who lent his head down and – good Lord – swiped his hot tongue over his right nipple. Mycroft’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned. Hot open-mouthed kisses were lathered over his chest and up towards his neck. He arched into the warm hands holding him tightly and sighed, feeling skin touch skin. He dipped his head and sought out Lestrade’s mouth. With a moan, Lestrade surged forward and locked their mouths together, moving a hand to caress Mycroft's cheek with such sweetness. Mycroft couldn’t help but whimper, his heart clenching within his chest so tightly he was sure Lestrade could feel the movement as he lay so impossibly on top of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt cherished or desired and the sensations were quickly overwhelming him.
~~~
"Hey, you."
Mycroft had answered the front door and was surprised to see Detective Inspector Lestrade leaning against the doorframe, an unreadable expression on his face. "Detective Inspector. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Lestrade ambled into his front hallway and leaned against the wall. He was inebriated, Mycroft realized. "Just wanted to come say hello."
"I see you had quite the evening."
Lestrade shrugged. "Just me'n my coworkers. Not quite an anything."
"Did you need something?"
"Just wanted to see you." Lestrade brushed a hand through his grey hair, and Mycroft swallowed tightly. "Thinkin' 'bout you all today."
"Were you?"
"Mhm. Saw 'Thea today."
"Who?"
"Thea." Lestrade threw an arm behind him and gestured vaguely at the door.
"Anthea?"
"Yeah." Lestrade's forehead crinkled. He rubbed a hand across it. "She's really pretty."
Mycroft stiffened and clenched his jaw. "Was there something you required from me, Detective Inspector, that was so important it necessitated a visit to my home?"
Lestrade thought for a moment before nodding. "Wanted to see if you'd have a drink with me."
"Surely you don't require any further inebriation tonight."
Lestrade shrugged. "Haven't had a drink with you yet."
Silence filled the space between them as Mycroft considered the situation. "I assume you will refuse to leave until you have a drink with me."
"Yep." Lestrade looked pleased with himself.
"Very well." With a short nod, Mycroft turned on his heel and led the way into his sitting room. "Please, make yourself comfortable." Mycroft poured amber liquid into two crystal glasses. He passed one to Lestrade.
~~~
Lestrade tilted his head slightly and brushed a kiss across Mycroft’s lips and Mycroft froze in shock. Lestrade pulled back, but Mycroft pursued, desperately needing more of his mouth. Lestrade made a sound of surprise at the passion and ferocity of the attack, and took a step backwards. Mycroft pressed him against the wall, kissing him, his mouth, cheek, jaw, whatever parts he could reach. His hands came down to rest on Lestrade’s hips. Lestrade was growing hard against his thigh. Mycroft ground down against him and pressed kisses down his neck. "Please. Please."
"Christ." Lestrade gasped, arching into Mycroft's hands. "Yes, yes. Come here." He pulled Mycroft's face back and kissed him, slipping his tongue forward.
Mycroft welcomed him in to the best of his abilities, pushing down the pressure building in his chest. He felt ashamed, kissing him. Selfish. As if he was taking advantage. He was, really, having used his powers of manipulation to force Lestrade to be here in his arms, touching him, holding him, kissing him. Kissing him with the intent of having sex with him, the most gorgeous man Mycroft had ever seen in his life. He caressed, nipped, and lavished Lestrade with all the skill he was capable of, praying for it to be enough for the Detective Inspector to not take notice the appearance of his current partner, so that he might overlook Mycroft’s gawky, flabby, unattractive self.
He knew this was a risk. To allow himself what he had been dreaming of, yearning after, for years in such a shallow capacity. To indulge in these carnal pleasures for an evening, knowing it was all he would ever receive, knowing he was going to lose his friendship with Lestrade after. The concept was overwhelming, but the power of having Lestrade in his arms, kissing him, feeling his strong body against him, his arms wrapping around Mycroft's shoulders with gentleness, was more than he had the power to refuse.
When they pulled apart for breath, Mycroft made a decision. Grabbing Lestrade’s hand, he pulled him out of the room and down the hall towards the bedroom. Lestrade followed as willingly as a puppy led by his master. When they reached Mycroft’s bedroom, Lestrade let himself be pushed down onto the bed, grabbing Mycroft’s wrist and pulling him on top of him.
Their mouths met and Mycroft melted into the embrace, his hands moving to the broad chest beneath him, allowing his weight to sink against Lestrade. Lestrade’s hands rose to hold Mycroft’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. Wet tongues slid gently across each other, warm and soft. Mycroft felt a hand curl around his hip and with a sudden twist, he found himself upon his back, looking up into soft brown eyes.
~~
Before he lost control of his sensibilities, Mycroft pushed Lestrade off of him, twisting to remove Lestrade’s clothes as quickly as possible. Lestrade flopped back onto the mattress, and he chuckled as Mycroft’s dextrous fingers undid buttons and shucked clothing from skin. Mycroft’s chest constricted at the sight of Greg’s chest, strong and warm with a dusting of grey hair. He couldn’t contain himself and leant down to nuzzle his face in it, leaving soft kisses where his lips met skin. He heard soft moans reverberating through Greg’s chest and forced himself to move lest Greg come to his senses. He lowered himself and mouthed at the bulge disrupting the line of Greg’s trousers. He heard a short gasp and froze, glancing up towards Greg’s face. Noting it was a sound of pleasure and not disgust, Mycroft sped his actions, unfastening and pulling down fabric, quickly releasing Greg’s cock and wrapping his lips about it. He closed his eyes at the heavenly weight pressing against his tongue, and he moved his lips down Greg’s shaft, taking in more of him until he could feel the tip of Greg’s cock brushing against the back of his throat. He tightened his lips and swallowed, suppressing his gag reflex and giving his throat over to Greg’s pleasure.
Greg moaned loudly above him, fingers coming to rest gently in his hair. Mycroft wished Greg would pull, use him roughly, instead of this tenderness. It would be easier to bear. He pulled off for a moment to breathe and reached across Greg to fumble at his bedside table drawer. Greg leaned up and kissed at his chest, a hand stroking down Mycroft’s back. “So good, you’re so good.”
Mycroft grabbed the tube of lubricant and returned to kneel over Greg. He couldn’t help but kiss him, so beautiful lying against his sheets, Greg’s hands resting gently against his sides. Mycroft popped the lid on the lubricant and spread some over his fingers before roughly slipping them inside himself. He pulled away from Greg’s mouth and returned his attentions to Greg’s cock, taking him inside his mouth once again. Greg groaned loudly, his hips rising off the bed. “Christ, yes.”
Mycroft worked his fingers inside, stretching himself open as quickly as he could. He sunk his mouth down onto Greg’s cock, allowing saliva to drip out of his mouth. When he knew he was open enough, he kissed his way up Greg’s chest, feeling Greg’s hand running tenderly through his hair. He kissed Greg’s jaw. “Will you fuck me?”
“Shit, really?” Greg blinked at him, his eyes slightly unfocused.
“Please.” Mycroft kissed the corner of Greg’s mouth. “Please, I want you to.”
Greg drew Mycroft’s mouth to his and kissed him sweetly. “’Course I can, if that’s what you want. Where—”
“I’m already ready for you,” Mycroft murmured, kissing across Greg’s jaw. “Let me ride you?”
Greg closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as Mycroft sucked a mark where his neck met his jaw. “’Course. Yes, ride me. Please.” His hands reached up and found Mycroft’s hips, thumbs gently stroking across sensitive skin.
Mycroft positioned himself and gradually lowered onto Greg’s cock, biting his lip at the stretch. He let out a gasp as he felt Greg breach him, and he sank down steadily, feeling Greg fill him. Once he was fully seated, he rocked slowly, turning his attention to Greg’s face. Gorgeous brown eyes were looking at him with something akin to worship. Mycroft felt a pang in his chest as he moved, feeling Greg’s cock shift inside him.
Greg gasped beneath him, his hands tightening on Mycroft’s hips. “Shit, sweetheart.”
At the pet name, Mycroft flushed, the compliment rushing straight to his aching cock.
Greg smiled and reached up, cupping Mycroft’s cheek and bringing him down into a soft kiss. He rolled his hips. Mycroft gasped at the spike of pleasure that shot through him. With a quiet chuckle, Greg repeated the action. “Gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous.” He rolled his hips again, and Mycroft whimpered, his face resting in the crook between Greg’s neck and shoulder. Greg’s hands brushed up and down his back as he continued thrusting gently upwards into Mycroft’s body. “Beautiful. You’re so lovely. So lovely.”
Mycroft felt his stomach turn into lead, and he closed his eyes, pressing his face against Greg’s skin. It was apparent Greg had no concept of who he was currently fucking. He was as good as assaulting the man. Did Greg even realize it was a male he was fucking, and not a small-breasted woman he’d picked up at the pub? Such words of flattery could never be used to describe him. Mycroft’s eyes closed tightly. He had made a grave mistake. Such a mistake. His weakness for the man, his inability to resist had caused him to make an unforgivable error and take advantage of Gregory who had no idea he had been treasured in a secret chamber of Mycroft’s heart for years. It would be for the benefit of them both if this experience ended as quickly as possible. He clenched and tightened himself as much as he could, trying to ensure his body was pleasing for the Adonis who had mistakenly found his way into his bed. Gregory gasped and came shortly after, burying his face in Mycroft's shoulder, murmuring softly into the freckled skin. "So gorgeous. You're amazin', beautiful."
Mycroft allowed him to stay for a moment before rolling him gently to the side, gasping softly as Gregory slipped out of his body. He was still hard but could not bring himself to move towards his own pleasure, not while Gregory lay beside him.
Gregory’s eyes had closed quickly after his climax and it was no real effort to gently divert the hands that reached for Mycroft. He watched as Gregory snuggled against the pillows.
Mycroft rolled out of the bed and took himself into the toilet. A few quick strokes later found him bent over the porcelain bowl, gasping heavily as he released himself. He prepared a warm flannel and slipped back into his bedroom. He stood quietly over Gregory sleeping naked in his bed. It was every good dream and nightmare rolled into one. With soft, tender touches, he cleaned his lover and pulled the duvet over him. In his sleep, Gregory reached out and tugged at Mycroft’s shoulder, clearly with the intention of pulling him into a post-coital embrace. Of course, he would desire affection and closeness whomever he seemed to think Mycroft was.
While everything in his brain told him not to, Mycroft slid in and pressed close to Gregory, feeling the warmth of naked skin against his. Mycroft’s favourite place to sleep, he decided, was wedged right against Gregory’s right side, pressed firmly against his warm sleeping body, a hand resting against the soft hair on Gregory’s chest, and his head cradled in the crook of Gregory’s shoulder. Gregory wrapped his arm around Mycroft's body, and fingers gently wove their way into his hair, massaging his scalp. From this position, he heard the quiet thudding of Gregory’s heartbeat and the soft inhales as the man slept. He never thought he would be as comfortable, as secure, as he felt in this moment. As if the entire world could collapse around him, and yet he would be safe, here, in the arms of this man. For just a few moments, he felt untouchable and happy.
Gregory shifted in his sleep and his arm wrapped around Mycroft's waist, pulling him close. Gregory’s hand came to rest against the flesh of his side, sinking in amongst the soft spots until it rested against his ribs. Instead of feeling reassured by the gentle affection, Mycroft felt his stomach roll. He was abhorrent. His body, flabby, repulsive. He had just made the biggest mistake of his life, and nothing would fix it. The thought of facing Gregory’s reaction when morning revealed whom Gregory had made love to the night before — seeing the repulsion on his face, the rejection, the disgust — caused Mycroft’s heart to shatter in his chest. And here he was, lying in bed next to the man he had so severely taken advantage of and wronged.
After making sure Gregory was soundly asleep, he got up from the bed and hurriedly got dressed. Every item of clothing he pulled on served as a steel door falling shut between him and the man asleep in his bed. Once dressed, he fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and paracetamol and set them on the nightstand for Gregory to find when he awoke. He then left the house and headed straight to his office. He sent a text to Anthea with instructions to contact the Detective Inspector when morning came, and to facilitate anything the man might need, but to not allow any further direct contact between himself and the DI. She would be able to field any inquiry Gregory had once he woke, Mycroft had no doubt. There would be nothing lost from Gregory’s perspective. Mycroft’s resources would continually be available to him, but through Anthea instead. Which may even benefit the Inspector; Mycroft remembered his complimentary description of his assistant. Their friendship was officially at an end. He had gotten what he had desired for so long, an evening in Gregory’s arms. And now, now, he had to shut that aspect of himself away.
Caring was not an advantage.
To bide his grief, work was the only solution.