The Great Game

"How's the diet?"

"Thank you for coming. Thank you. Thank you." Mycroft closed the door with hurry and sighed. "Why on Earth, Gregory, did you think it was a good idea to throw me a birthday party?"

Laughing softly at his boyfriend weariness, Greg kissed his lips and winked:

"Well, Myc, birthdays are occasions to celebrate! I wanted to do something nice for you."

"I understand, my dear. However, I would rather not have a repeat of this night, if that isn't too much trouble, Gregory. Ever. Sherlock is the most unpleasant arsehole in England and becomes even worse, if that is at all possible, at parties."

Chuckling softly, Greg squeezed one of Mycroft's arse cheeks.

"You forgot something, Myc."

"That is not possible, Gregory."

"Oh, you did forget. I will never forgive you."

Mycroft watched a devilish smile form on Greg's face with a frown.

"And what would that be?"

Leaning close, Greg whispered, rubbing their bellies and tighs together.

"My birthday present for you." Chuckling again, Greg pushed Mycroft into the study. "Wait here and don't come to bedroom, unless I tell you to. Understood?"

Nodding, Mycroft went to the room and sat down on couch, not even attempting to hide or repress his arousal.

"Come upstairs, Myc!"

Of course, the British Government hurried to comply. When he reached the bedroom, he saw a naked Lestrade lazily lying down on his bed. "So, this is your present for me?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut up, Myc. Let me show you something first." Greg stood up and retrieved a plate which had been above the bedside drawer. "I've made you a cake."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I am on a diet, Gregory."

Lestrade's grin was almost too much to handle now.

"Are you sure? What a shame. I was thinking of being like a dessert dish, you know?" He bent to his knees, arse up in the air, and lazily spread a slice of cake around his spine, tighs, arse cheeks and the pink ring between them. "I was hoping you could… lick me clean."

Greg moaned when he felt Mycroft's tongue and teeth against his upper tighs.

"What about your diet?"

Sucking lightly, Mycroft answered roughly:

"It can wait until tomorrow. Now, my dear Gregory, I am going to devour you."

Keeping Sherlock's gaze and trying not to tremble, Mycroft answered:

"Fine!"

The Hound of Baskerville

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?"

"Hi. May I come in?"

"It is three p.m. in the morning, Gregory. What brings you here this late?"

"Do you mind if we chat inside the house? It's a bit odd to talk about my life through the intercom."

A few seconds later, the gate opened.

What a wonderful life, Greg thought as he entered the property. Here he was, a respectful D.I., in the middle of his holiday, with no wife (she was cheating on him - again), looking for his ex-boyfriend.

The door opened and an indifferent British Government appeared.

"Let me guess: Linda cheated on you again."

The knot inside his throat tightened.

"It is over, I am a single man."

Mycroft blinked a few times.

"May I ask you, Gregory, how does that concern me?"

He deserved that, Greg knew.

"Don't be like that; let me explain everything to you."

Nodding silently, Mycroft allowed him passage.

"You must hurry; I am in the middle of a matter of national urgency."

"I know that's a lie, Mycroft, but I will pretend to believe it." He sat down on one of the study's couches, trying not to be nervous. Gosh, it was really hard! "I came here to apologize to you."

"Really?" Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "I am apologize for my rudeness, but it is a bit too late for that. Is that all?"

Kneeling in front of his ex, Greg took his hand and whispered: "I am really and truly sorry, Myc. I was confused. Look, I've been with Linda for twenty years, we have kids, I was scared to throw everything away."

"I understand, Gregory, as much as I don't accept your excuses."

Greg squeezed Mycroft's hands again.

"Please, listen to me. I love you, Myc. Only you. I went on this holiday to permanently break it off with Linda without the presence of my kids; they don't deserve to see it. I want you back, but I will understand if you don't feel the same. All I ask now is your forgiveness."

Mycroft looked at him for a few moments, then stood up and left.

Greg was almost giving up when he came back. Greg lifted an eyebrow at the rope and the condom.

"You can be very useful to me on your knees." Mycroft took Greg's chin. "Look at me. I have one condition for taking you back."

"Just tell me."

"You will have to do everything I tell you. If you can do it, I will forgive you."

Greg nodded with anger.

"Very well. Let us begin. Please, my dear, strip yourself and be on your knees." He took off his clothes as well, and Greg had to take a deep breathe at the sight. Mycroft wrapped Lestrade's wrist with the rope knot tightly. "Open your mouth." He put the condom between Greg's parted lips. "Now, my dear, suck me."

Swallowing hard, Greg replied:

"I don't do what your brother tells me."

The Empty Hearse

"I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a…goldfish."

What a lazy (and dull) day!

Mycroft put his sunglasses and looked at the pool, where Greg was swimming. Oh, his silver hair and golden skin were shinning so beautifully…

Mycroft looked down at his own body. He was sure his skin would shine too - but only to blind anyone who looked direct at him.

Why, for God's sake, did he have those freckles? He couldn't be under the sun for more than ten minutes, even with the most powerful sunblock, on and off the market, or his skin would bear even more of those hateful marks.

Who would fear a man with freckles? No one.

Oh, Mycroft was so envious of Greg. He was so… damn sexy! And without any undue effort. Lestrade seemed to be reading his thoughts: he chose this moment to leave the pool, water dripping along his tan body.

"Hey, Myc, wanna swim with me ?"

Only then Mycroft noticed that he was holding his breath.

"I… Um, no, Gregory, thank you. I am more comfortable this way." His voice was rough, he knew, but Mycroft was praying that Greg wouldn't notice.

Lestrade chuckled softly, looking temptingly at Mycroft's tightening swimming trunks. "Oh, Myc, is everything alright with you?"

He swallowed, trying to focus.

"Quite alright, I assu… Oh!" Greg's fingers traced the line of his hardening groin, making him moan. "Don't do that to me."

Greg smile was devilish.

"I'm not doing anythin, Myc…" He squeezed Mycroft's still covered cock softly. "And, even if I was, you are free to stop me."

The British Government shut his eyes and threw his head back, shivering with pleasure. 'You are going to be the death of me."

Laughing, Greg took off his and Mycroft's trunks off. "You are so pale, so beautiful, Myc."

Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "And you are as beautiful as you are blind… Oh, don't do it when I am talking, for God's sake!" He groaned with one thrust of Greg's hand.

"Do you want me to stop?" Said Greg teasingly touching Mycroft's shaft with his own.

"God, no…"

Lestrade slicked himself and Mycroft's bulge with the sunblock.

"Are you ready?"

The other only nodded, feeling the pleasure of Greg's thrust against him. Above in the sky, the sun made the skin of Greg's legs even brighter. Gregory Lestrade is the sexiest goldfish on Earth.

"Change the subject. Now." Mycroft said, faking an expression of disbelief.

The Sign of Three

"Either I've caught you in a compromising position or you've been working out again. I favour the latter."

"Gregory, oh, please, let me…" Panted Mycroft. "I am begging you. Let me… come!"

Lestrade only chuckled, while he kept thrusting inside his partner and purposely avoiding that magical spot inside him.

"You're still able to form coherent words, Myc, I can't allow it." Despite his apparent control, Mycroft knew Greg was close to the edge, as he was.

"Gregory, it… oh, hurts. My sack is…"

"I know, mine too." Panted Greg, still thrusting lazily. "But we have a deal, Myc."

Mycroft closed his eyes, letting his head hung down. "I will not call you 'Greg'."

Greg chuckled softly.

"Yes, you will… Oh, I swear." He stopped suddenly. "And you're gonna do it now. Call me 'Greg' or we're done."

Mycroft was aware of his delicate position – on all four, arse in the air, Greg buried inside him, one thin rope around his cock – but he wouldn't lose the game. "I won't."

Greg drew himself out of Mycroft's arse.

"I've warned you."

"Gregory, you can't be serious about that…"

"Of course I am, Myc. We've been together for years now. What is wrong with calling me Greg?"

Mycroft sighed.

"Do I really have to answer it?"

Greg nodded.

"I don't call you 'Greg' because… everyone, even your ex, does. I want to be different from the others in your life. You are everyone's Greg, but you're my Gregory . I know I am not the sentimental type of person, but I do love you."

Greg hugged him tight.

"Oh, Myc… I didn't know." He kissed Mycroft's ear. "I will not ask again, I promise." He thrust inside Mycroft once again, extracting a loud moan of both. "Come for me, my dear." He said, removing the rope and repeatedly hitting the sensitive spot inside his lover.

After the most powerful orgasm of their life, Greg kissed Mycroft's ear once again.

"Will you go with me to John's wedding?"

Still panting, Mycroft frowned.

"No way."

"What do you want?" Mycroft was still breathless, but, this time, his less than innocent memories were the cause of it.