A/N: This has been sitting on my hardrive for AGES but I had no direction. Now, now it has a direction.

Enjoy!

Mycroft Holmes was emotionless, but he was not without instincts.

'Don't be alarmed, it has to do with sex.'

'Sex doesn't alarm me'

'How would you know?'

Mycroft Holmes occasionally resented his brother's lack of interest in sex, occasionally the lust that clouded his mind and stopped him thinking straight was an annoyance. Sherlock never seemed to be bothered by it. However Sherlock had often channelled those base urges into his drug abuse. The cocktail of drugs he regularly imbibed made up for his lack of sexual urges.

But Mycroft Holmes had instincts and they revolved around his delightfully sexy PA, Anthea. Dangerous and mysterious, Mycroft's mouth had this habit of watering if he was too close to her. Naturally he'd held himself back when he first met her. It had taken every inch of his huge willpower not to ravish her on the desk but somehow he survived the first three months of working with her. Everything about her made him carnal; the fragrance of jasmine that wafted when she handed him documents; the almost neutral lipstick that gave the right sheen to those plump, biteable lips; the brown waves of hair that would feel like silk. Everything made him forget his place and position in society and act like some beast in heat.

Three months was a long stressful toll on his mental health and he finally broke when she arrived in a red dress of suitable length but it made his heart beat and his cock harden.

Anthea knew what she did to men and The Iceman was no different; she'd watched him fidget, cross and uncross his legs and she had done everything to flaunt herself and her willingness until she came across a gorgeous red dress in a boutique in Kensington. She had to have it, and if that didn't break his frosty exterior then she'd call it quits and bar crawl for the pleasure.

It worked. God it worked. She hadn't known her boss could move so fast when she leant beside him for documents to be signed. He'd slammed her against the wall and kissed her hard. She watched, eyes open, as the restraint kicked in once more and his pupils focused on her own. But she hadn't let him draw away, she'd locked her arm tight around his neck and pulled him closer, her leg had tightened around his waist, the material of the dress pushed higher as a result. His hand was possessive at her thigh pushing the red fabric up further, his other hand was almost tentative at her waist by comparison.

Until she moaned. She moaned into his mouth when his hips inadvertently flicked against hers. Then his grip tightened, fingers practically moving to cup her arse and hold her closer than before. She was pretty sure he had torn her knickers, and Anthea was lost in the heady rush he'd sent her into as his teeth worked at her neck she barely registered him unzipping those expensive suit trousers and pushing them to his knees.

It wasn't graceful, it was glamourous, hell it made the pair of them seem like a couple of strangers at the back of a nightclub but it was so good. Hell it was amazing.

It had only been 9.33 in the morning when they started their illicit tryst and Mycroft wanted Anthea more and more throughout the entire day – he hadn't had this problem since he was 14. It was intolerable by 12.42 when she leant down to him after a serious meeting with the Chinese delegation and whispered.

"You've made me walk around for hours now without any knickers on. Think of how many times you could've fucked me." She emphasised the coarse word and watched, smugly, as his hips twitched. "You also owe me a pair of knickers, they were expensive." She stood up straight again and shook that delightful derriere out of the door to her own desk.

Since that fateful day those silk knickers were still in a drawer at his home and Mycroft had a reason to give into his instincts.

Like when she drove him to Mummy and Daddy's in the Mercedes and he made her pull over so he could have her over the bonnet at the edge of the estate.

Or the time they ended stuck in a lift (jammed by Anthea, CCTV neatly disabled) and they had a quickie against the wall.

Or the time, she stripped when they waited at a safehouse and he was on her in seconds, mouthing his way down her body and pleasuring her until she was screaming his name.

Her favourite would always be on the first Saturday of the month. They'd get take-out, alternate choosing, they'd watch crappy Saturday night television together and one of them would sooner or later make the move. She'd undressed him slowly when Julia Roberts undressed Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. But unlike Gere, Mycroft would soon take over and have her pressed into the expensive Turkish carpet as he made her come undone with just his tongue.

Oh yes Mycroft Holmes had instincts, but even then he could tame them.