Sherlock: Everything That I Want, I Want From You

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer

When John heads out for the night, he leaves Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes glaring at each other with promises not to burn down 221B in his absence. Only the brothers have something decidedly more delicious on their minds; something much more fun than any experiment. Holmescest! See other warnings inside.

SHERLOCK

EVERYTHING THAT I WANT, I WANT FROM YOU

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Author's Note:

Main Pairing: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes

Side Pairing: John Watson/Gregory Lestrade

Story Title/Lyrics: Stray Heart by Green Day

Note: Written for the lovely chasingriver. Happy birthday!

Warnings: Graphic m/m sex, explicit language, Holmescest [sibling incest], spanking, light domination/submission, food play

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

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"Everything that I want, I want from you

But I just can't have you

Everything that I need, I need from you

But I just can't have you"

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Sherlock thrust Mycroft against the wall between the kitchen and sitting room, quickly fixing his mouth against the elder Holmes' pale neck. Mycroft had walked in only seconds earlier to be told that John was in the bathroom, and Sherlock hadn't wasted a moment getting a taste of his sibling.

Mycroft's umbrella clattered to the floor and he groaned. He grabbed at Sherlock's dressing gown, twisting the cotton between his nimble fingers. 'Sh-Sherlock- ah- s-stop, not yet.'

Sherlock ignored him, of course, and continued running his tongue along Mycroft's skin. It tasted of Mycroft and sweat, and Sherlock could smell the lingering scent of tobacco and scotch. His brother had been in meetings all day, then.

'Sherlock,' Mycroft tried again. His nails dug into Sherlock's shoulders, making the younger man moan. Suddenly he was forced back- Mycroft had always been stronger- and opened his eyes to look into his brother's equally lust-filled ones. 'Not yet,' Mycroft hissed as he tried to catch his breath. 'John's still here.'

'He's in the shower,' Sherlock huffed. 'Going on a "date" which is code for "taking Lestrade out to a romantic date where we'll touch each other under the table before going back to Lestrade's to get naked and have gay sex".'

Mycroft huffed a laugh and gave Sherlock an indulgent smile. 'Is John still trying to keep that from you?'

Sherlock nodded. 'He seems to think I'll be against it. How could I be when it gets him out of the flat so I can spend time with you?' He offered his brother a small smile. 'And Lestrade's a good man, he's good enough for John, and vice-versa.'

'Of course,' Mycroft nodded. 'How long's it been now?'

'Seven months,' Sherlock answered.

'Of course,' Mycroft repeated. 'I'm sure soon enough they'll "come out", as they say.'

Sherlock sighed and leaned his forehead against Mycroft's shoulder. 'I wish we could come out,' he murmured.

Mycroft stroked his fingers through Sherlock's hair, and the slightly shorter man smiled and leaned into the touch. 'I know, Lockie,' the red-head soothed, 'but even though John and Gregory are clearly okay with same-sex relationships, we're related.'

'I know.'

'We can't ever let anyone know.'

'I know,' Sherlock huffed. He paused before saying, 'Anthea knows.'

'Well, she's a smart young woman,' Mycroft said. 'And she walked in on us in my office.'

Sherlock smiled at the memory. Mycroft had been stuck in meetings all day and had ignored Sherlock's texts. The younger Holmes had made his way to Mycroft's office- the real one, not the one John went to- and had promptly bent Mycroft over the desk and taken him roughly. Anthea had walked in, taken one look, and said, 'Sir, your three o'clock has rescheduled, you have half-an-hour.' Then she'd turned and walked out, locking the door behind her.

Since that day, Anthea had known; and she'd never said a word. She really didn't care that her boss was sleeping with his brother.

'Anthea's different,' Mycroft continued after a minute. 'But maybe John will accept us, in time.'

Sherlock just nodded. He highly doubted it. John was amazingly accepting of most things Sherlock did (except skipping meals and smoking) but sleeping with his brother? No, Sherlock doubted John would approve of that.

Down the hall they heard the shower turn off, and Sherlock reluctantly pried himself away from his brother. Mycroft smiled warmly at him and bent to pick up his umbrella. After setting it against the wall, and folding his coat over the armchair, he went into the kitchen to make tea.

Sherlock sulked over to the sofa and flopped down, letting his long limbs settle on the comfortable cushions. He sighed softly and closed his eyes; immediately memories of him and Mycroft, together and naked, popped into his mind, and Sherlock licked his lips. He would never delete anything that had to do with his and Mycroft's relationship; the memories got him through the times they spent apart.

The bathroom door opened at the same time Mycroft flicked the kettle on, and when John walked into the kitchen towelling his hair dry he stopped and looked at the auburn-haired man.

'Good evening, John.'

'Evening, Mycroft,' the doctor replied. 'Do you have a case or...?'

'Just visiting,' Mycroft smiled at him. 'Do you want some tea?'

'Yeah, thank you,' John nodded. 'I don't have to leave for another twenty minutes.'

Mycroft nodded and turned his back as John entered the sitting room.

'Sherlock,' the shorter man hissed as he reached his flatmate, 'don't be a bastard, alright?'

'It's him, not me!' Sherlock argued.

Mycroft smiled as their voices reached him.

'Both of you need to grow up,' John muttered. 'Can you be civil if I'm not here?'

'… probably not,' Sherlock admitted.

John sighed. 'At least you're honest,' he muttered before heading for his room.

When Mycroft heard John's bedroom door shut, he commented, 'We can be very civil to each other.'

Sherlock chuckled. 'Yes, but only when we're alone, preferably naked. John doesn't get to see that.'

'No,' Mycroft hummed as the kettle boiled. He poured himself and John a cup, knowing Sherlock wouldn't want any, and carried both into the sitting room after adding the favoured amount of sugar. There wasn't any milk, of course. Mycroft wasn't sure Sherlock even knew what milk was; he always forgot to buy any when John asked, and when they did have milk he tended to experiment on it.

Mycroft made himself comfortable in John's armchair and leaned back as he blew across the top of his mug. Sherlock was sprawled across the sofa, limbs all over the place, his brown hair falling in haphazard curls around his pale face. Mycroft couldn't find a single fault in his brother's features; he was the most beautiful person the elder Holmes had ever set eyes on. And he looked even better naked.

Mycroft lost himself to that rather glorious thought for a few minutes and when he came back to himself John was walking into the sitting room. He was wearing fitted trousers, a nice dark blue dress shirt that highlighted his eyes, the top few buttons undone, and his black military jacket. Mycroft assumed he was getting a taxi, as he wasn't wearing a jumper beneath his jacket like he would if he had to walk very far in the cold.

'You look lovely, John,' Mycroft commented.

Sherlock lifted his head to scowl at him, while John offered Mycroft a smile. 'Thank you.'

'How long have you been dating this one?' Mycroft asked and sipped his tea.

'Erm... a while now,' John said and sat on the sofa beside his best friend.

'Seven months,' Sherlock said.

John sighed and rubbed his eyes while Mycroft chuckled. 'Honestly, why do I bother?' the ex-soldier muttered.

'No idea,' Sherlock said. John slapped his legs and Sherlock huffed but moved aside to allow John more room.

When John had first moved in Mycroft had been jealous; he could admit that to himself, and later he had admitted that to his brother. He had worried that Sherlock would fall for John; he was intelligent, loyal, good-looking, and clearly loved Sherlock. Despite his "I'm not gay" speeches, the man was on occasion attracted to his own sex (see Gregory Lestrade as an example).

But as the months passed and Sherlock showed absolutely no signs to indicate he was in love or even attracted to his flatmate, Mycroft had grown easier. And then of course Sherlock had confronted him, fucked Mycroft all across 221B, and assured him that he would never, ever,leave his brother for someone else. All jealousy flew from Mycroft's body after that.

'You must be quite taken with her,' Mycroft said.

John nodded, sipping from his own mug. 'They- uh, she, is wonderful, yeah.'

Mycroft almost snorted at "they". John should really have learned by now that you couldn't hide anything from the Holmes brothers. And even if Sherlock missed something, Mycroft would see it; he was smarter, after all.

But Mycroft didn't want to burst the little bubble John and Gregory had raised around themselves, so he just nodded and asked a few harmless questions about John's "girlfriend".

Behind John, Sherlock was making faces and mouthing "Gregory" every time John said "she" or "her". It was an amusing game and luckily Mycroft was a master at schooling his features; if he were anyone else John would have caught on quickly.

As it was, they chatted for a few minutes before John drained his mug and stood. 'I have to go,' he said and turned to Sherlock. 'You behave yourself, understand?'

'Me?' Sherlock pouted, trying to look innocent.

'Yes, you,' John snorted. 'No shouting or throwing things, and no experiments,' he ordered. 'Mrs Hudson was nearly in tears the last time you two went at it.'

Mycroft and Sherlock shared a look; last time they'd met at 221B to have sex, they hadn't realised Mrs Hudson was home. The poor dear had overhead them having sex and mistook it for the brothers trying to kill each other. It was why Mycroft preferred having sex with Sherlock at his own flat. But Sherlock was, on occasion, incredibly lazy, and sometimes liked using his own bed. So Mycroft made the short trip, more than happy to meet his brother's whims if it meant naked time beneath the sheets together.

'Of course, John, I apologise for that... incident,' Mycroft said, smiling at the doctor. 'We will of course behave ourselves this time.'

Even Sherlock snorted at that, but John just sighed and said, 'Thanks, Mycroft.'

'Not a problem,' the older man smiled. 'You enjoy yourself, and give my regards to your... girlfriend.'

Sherlock almost broke out into a fit of laughter and had to roll over and bury his face in his Union Jack pillow to muffle them. John just took it as a sign of Sherlock dismissing him and rolled his eyes.

'I'll be home later, Sherlock,' he said and grabbed a scarf from the hook by the door. Sherlock just waved over his shoulder and John left, shutting the door behind him.

Mycroft and Sherlock sat in silence; the elder Holmes sipping his tea, the younger breathing heavily against his pillow. Suddenly Sherlock leapt to his feet and went over to the windows, peering out. Mycroft finished his tea as Sherlock saw John get into a cab and disappear down the street.

'He's gone,' the younger man commented.

'Mm,' Mycroft hummed. Sherlock heard his brother stand and go into the kitchen. There was the sound of water as Mycroft rinsed his cup, then he exited the kitchen. When the door was locked with an audible click Sherlock shivered and swallowed thickly.

'You seem to be tense, brother,' Mycroft said from across the room.

Sherlock shivered again. Mrs Hudson was out, so they could be as loud as they wanted. None of the neighbours had ever met Mycroft, and they didn't talk to John or Sherlock; not one of them would even think of Sherlock having an active and kinky sex life.

Which left more room for Sherlock to have just that.

While he was lost in thought Mycroft had crossed the room, and Sherlock flinched slightly when his brother's warm hands rested on his narrow hips.

'It's been weeks since we were last together, little brother,' Mycroft said. He leaned forward to breathe his next words in the brunette's ear, 'I've missed you.'

Sherlock let out a soft moan. He never held himself back with Mycroft, especially when they were alone. He felt Mycroft's breath ghost his ear before a warm, wet tongue darted out to lick the shell.

'M-Mycroft,' he whimpered.

'Yes?' Mycroft hummed. He dipped his head to breathe against Sherlock's neck, inhaling his sibling's scent. Sherlock moaned again as warm lips started ghosting over his skin.

'It's b-been too long, as you said,' Sherlock managed to get out. 'What are we waiting for?'

Mycroft chuckled. 'I don't like rushing with you, brother dear, you know that.'

'Mycroft, please,' Sherlock whined.

'Tonight we go at my pace,' Mycroft said. 'Can you handle that, Lockie?'

Mycroft was usually in charge when they were together; he dominated Sherlock, he topped, he called everything. Though Sherlock did love dominating his brother, he preferred this arrangement. There was something so delicious about letting Mycroft own him.

I need a collar, Sherlock thought for the billionth time since he and Mycroft had started sleeping together. Not something to wear all the time, just something he could sport when he and Mycroft were alone in the elder's flat. Something that squeezed Sherlock's throat, reminding him who he belonged to; something with "Property of Mycroft Holmes" etched onto a tag.

'You're thinking about the collar again,' Mycroft stated as he kissed Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smiled. Mycroft always could tell what he was thinking, and vice-versa. It wasn't mind-reading, no matter what their parents used to say. It was just the ability to know another person completely, to know what they were thinking based on their body language, the sounds they made.

'Yes,' Sherlock admitted.

Mycroft eased back slowly and his firm hands made Sherlock turn. Sherlock looked up into his brother's eyes. 'You really want a collar?' he asked.

Sherlock nodded. 'I do, Mycroft,' he confirmed. 'The thought of wearing it and nothing else for two whole days at your flat...' he trailed off and licked his lips, heat now pooling in his gut.

Mycroft gave Sherlock a lazy smile and the brunette shivered. 'How about we move this to your bedroom, brother mine?'

Sherlock just nodded and Mycroft's hands drifted away. He linked their fingers together and tugged Sherlock across the sitting room, down the hall, and into Sherlock's bedroom. It was meticulously clean, unlike the rest of the flat, and Sherlock closed the door without being asked.

Like usual, Sherlock went straight to the queen-sized bed and drew the duvet and sheets back, folding them at the end of the mattress like Mycroft liked. Mycroft watched from the door, blue eyes drinking in the sight of his brother preparing the bed for the two of them.

Sherlock then opened the bedside drawer and drew out a bottle of lubricant- strawberry flavoured, their favourite- chocolate sex paste, padded cuffs, and a blindfold.

'Put those last two away, brother,' Mycroft said. 'We won't be needing them.'

Sherlock let a grin takeover his face. He loved being able to look at Mycroft and touch him. While he did enjoy being bound, gagged, and blindfolded, he much preferred watching his brother take him.

'Of course, Mycroft,' Sherlock said and put the cuffs and blindfold away. When he stood Mycroft had crossed the room and moulded himself to his little brother's body, drawing out a whimper from the younger man. 'I do plan on tying you up,' he whispered into Sherlock's ear, 'but not yet, and not with the handcuffs.'

'W-With what?' Sherlock asked.

Mycroft just chuckled and said, 'Strip like a good cock slut.'

Hearing his brother swear always did it for Sherlock, and he hastily tore himself away to do as asked. It didn't take him long to shed his dressing gown, pyjama bottoms, and cotton t-shirt. In no time at all he was completely naked, his half-hard erection bobbing obscenely between his legs.

'Very good,' Mycroft nodded. He ran his eyes down Sherlock's body, drinking in the sight. His skin was like marble and warm, smooth; Mycroft enjoyed running his fingers and palms over his brother's tight body, watching as the muscles beneath bulged. When Sherlock was close to coming most of his body would turn pink, and sweat would make his skin slick.

Mycroft liked licking his way from Sherlock's slim hips, up his sides and over his ribs, darting across to wet a pink nipple until it peaked. He loved marking Sherlock's body with bites and hickeys, watching the usual pale skin light up wherever Mycroft had decided to mark him.

Sherlock had long arms and legs, large, smooth hands, and his neck made Mycroft want to sink his teeth in and never let go. His cock was long and thick, just above average size, and grew harder and harder the longer Mycroft rested his blue eyes on it.

But Mycroft's favourite thing about Sherlock's body, apart from his eyes, was his arse. Sherlock's arse was his very best feature, and Mycroft loved touching it, kneading it, digging his fingers in and parting his cheeks until Sherlock's small puckered entrance came into view. Mycroft's favourite position was, of course, doggy style; watching his cock slide into Sherlock's tight, willing body always got the elder Holmes off.

'Brother?' Sherlock asked and Mycroft let his eyes drift back up to Sherlock's face. The younger Holmes was smirking. He knew what his body did to Mycroft and he never failed to take advantage of that and show himself off.

Mycroft cleared his throat and undid the buttons of his jacket. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly and his lips parted, pink tongue darting out to moisten them. Mycroft shrugged from his jacket, his waistcoat soon following, and he folded them across the dresser against the wall. He toed his shoes and socks off too but otherwise remained dressed.

'Do you know what I want, Sherlock?' Mycroft asked.

Of course Sherlock did; 'You want me on my knees, sucking your cock, while you're completely dressed,' Sherlock answered, practically drooling.

Mycroft felt lust coil hot and heavy through his body. His cock, which had started hardening as soon as John left, twitched in his trousers. 'Very good, brother dear,' he smiled. 'Why don't you come here and remind me what that pretty mouth of yours can do?'

Sherlock grinned and quickly crossed the room. He went to drop to his knees but Mycroft stopped him, long fingers curling around his biceps. 'Mycroft?' he questioned.

Rather than answer, Mycroft crushed their mouths together. Sherlock groaned in surprise and wound his arms around Mycroft's neck, the older man letting him. He wrapped his own around Sherlock's naked waist and tugged him forward until they were flush against each other. Sherlock whimpered against Mycroft's lips as his naked body came into contact with the politician's expensive shirt and trousers.

It felt rather good, like it always did, and Sherlock shamelessly rutted himself against his brother. Like usual, Mycroft didn't give a toss about his clothing; he never did when a naked Sherlock was involved. So he encouraged Sherlock's movements by shifting until his thigh was pressed against the consulting detective's erection.

Sherlock moaned louder and thrust his hips forward, while at the same time trying to ply Mycroft's lips apart. His brother chuckled before opening his mouth, but his tongue plunged into Sherlock's mouth first.

Sherlock hummed in delight- he really did like it when Mycroft took control- and squeezed Mycroft's neck as his mouth was plundered; Mycroft's tongue licked at his teeth and gums, twirled and pushed his own tongue down, and generally did whatever the hell it wanted. Sherlock's body was growing warm, and he was completely hard. He could feel his cock dragging along Mycroft's clothed hip every time he moved, and he rocked back and forth on his feet as he tried to get more stimulation.

It was Mycroft who broke the kiss and Sherlock gasped. Mycroft nudged his head to one side and Sherlock let his own tip back, groaning shamelessly loudly when his brother's mouth fixed itself to his neck. He felt warm, wet lips ghost across his skin, followed by a tongue and the hint of teeth. Mycroft breathed heavily against his neck until he nipped just to the left of Sherlock's Adam's apple.

'Yes,' Sherlock whimpered and tugged Mycroft closer. 'Please, My, more.'

Mycroft never could resist Sherlock using his nickname and bit down hard, sucking back. It wasn't hard enough to leave a hickey- they couldn't risk John or anyone else seeing them- so Mycroft quickly moved further down. There was a reason Sherlock always wore a scarf and flipped the collar of his jacket up, after all;

Mycroft bit down on Sherlock's collar bone, not restraining himself.

Sherlock mewled above him and thrust his hips forward, rubbing his aching cock against Mycroft's belly. Mycroft smiled against Sherlock's chest as he dug his teeth in and ran his tongue up and down the skin stretched over bone. Sherlock tasted like he always did; of sweat, the hint of tobacco and tea, and the best taste of all; Sherlock.

Mycroft hummed as he moved along Sherlock's chest, nipping and sucking wherever he fancied. His cock was straining against his trousers, and the feel of Sherlock's own erection jabbing against the stomach and hip was making his fingers dig into Sherlock's lower back.

Mycroft tilted his head and locked his lust-filled eyes onto one of Sherlock's spots; just below his left collar bone. As Mycroft descended he dropped his hands, and when he sank his teeth into Sherlock's spot he gripped Sherlock's arse.

Sherlock cried out and bucked against him, his entire body going taut as Mycroft sucked at his chest and kneaded his arse. Each cheek was warm, firm, and Mycroft groaned against Sherlock's skin as he dug his fingers into the perfect globes.

'I'm going to fuck your tight arse so hard, brother,' Mycroft gasped as he drew back. Sherlock groaned. 'I'm going to have you on all fours, taking my cock like the greedy boy you are. I'm going to fuck you hard and you're going to beg for it, aren't you?'

Not giving Sherlock a chance to respond, Mycroft bit the younger man's ear and smirked as Sherlock let out a lust-fuelled moan. Sherlock was hot against him, and Mycroft couldn't wait a second longer. Later, after he'd sated his thirst for his little brother, Mycroft would take his time and thoroughly break Sherlock apart, fuck him into next week, then slowly put him back together.

'Get on your knees and open your mouth,' Mycroft ordered.

His hands went to Sherlock's shoulders and the younger genius dropped to the carpet. He curled his hands into fists and rested them on his thighs as he looked up at his brother. His full, pink lips parted, and his tongue swiped along the bottom one.

Mycroft swore and fiddled with his belt and fly. He quickly got both open, followed by his boxer-briefs, and pulled his throbbing erection through the slit. Sherlock's bright eyes immediately went to the organ and he licked his lips hungrily, mouth falling further open.

Mycroft pressed his left palm to Sherlock's head, and watched as his brother dipped his head further forward, just waiting.

'You like sucking my cock, don't you?' Mycroft said.

'Yes,' Sherlock nodded eagerly.

'Did I say you could talk?'

Sherlock threw him a glare. 'You didn't say I couldn't.'

Mycroft chuckled. 'Always looking for a loophole.' He shuffled forward, his trousers falling to his thighs, and tilted his cock until the crown rested on Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock had been trained well and made no move to take more into his mouth. He just waited, eyes falling to half-mast as Mycroft rubbed the head of his cock over his lips. Pre-come was already oozing from the slit, and a drop got caught on Sherlock's upper lip, hanging there obscenely.

'Lick it away,' Mycroft said.

Sherlock's tongue immediately darted out and flicked at the small drop. It disappeared into his mouth and Sherlock hummed, hot breath blowing across the head of Mycroft's tongue.

'You're gorgeous, did you know that?' Mycroft commented. Sherlock just smiled at him. 'Open wide, little brother.'

Sherlock did as he was told and Mycroft forced the first few inches of his cock into Sherlock's waiting mouth. He moaned as the brunette's lips closed firmly around his shaft, tongue immediately licking up and down the underside.

'Good boy, Lockie,' Mycroft breathed heavily, his head hanging. 'Show My how well he's taught you.'

Sherlock managed to nod curtly without letting Mycroft's cock slip from his mouth. He sucked suddenly, tongue lapping at the head, and Mycroft groaned loudly. He thrust his hips forward while at the same time threading his fingers through Sherlock's hair and pulling tightly. It forced Sherlock to stay still and accept whatever Mycroft wanted.

Sherlock didn't need any preparation, and his lips stretched wide as Mycroft swiftly buried his entire cock in his mouth and down his throat. He paused, fingers tight in Sherlock's hair, Sherlock's nose pressed to his ginger pubic hair, before drawing back quickly. His cock slid from Sherlock's mouth with a long wet slide and saliva followed as Sherlock inhaled sharply, his eyes so dark only a thin sliver of blue could be seen around his blown pupils.

'Fast or slow, little brother?' Mycroft asked.

'Fast,' Sherlock responded immediately.

Mycroft gripped Sherlock's hair tightly and lunged back in, forcing half his cock down Sherlock's throat before drawing back. Sherlock moaned as they set up a steady rhythm, and both lost themselves in the pleasure. Sherlock sucked every time Mycroft thrust into his mouth, his tongue twisting to lick his brother's entire shaft, the tip flicking at the head to clean away pre-come. His eyes slid shut as he enjoyed the abuse his mouth and throat were under, and his hands remained on his thighs, not bothering to clean away the saliva that dripped down his chin, or try and control the speed or depth of Mycroft's thrusts.

Mycroft's head tipped back and he swore loudly, his breath coming in gasps. Sherlock's mouth was warm and tight, his tongue seeming to be everywhere at one. He hollowed his cheeks when needed and blew across the head of Mycroft's dick when it slipped out. He started humming the further Mycroft pushed in, and the vibrations sent heat straight through Mycroft's cock to his crotch and beyond.

'God, Lockie, you're so good,' Mycroft praised. 'Such a good little cock sucker.'

He peeled his eyes open to see a pleased look on Sherlock's face, as well as his prick disappearing between those plump, swollen lips. Sherlock's cheeks alternated between bulging when his mouth was full of cock and sucking when Mycroft started pulling out.

After a few more minutes Mycroft felt himself losing it. He tugged on Sherlock's hair to warn him and the younger Holmes sucked with new determination. Mycroft moaned and dug his fingers into Sherlock's scalp, close to drawing blood as he lunged harder and faster down his brother's throat.

'That's it, take it all,' Mycroft said, voice husky, as Sherlock swallowed down his entire cock. 'Just like that, Lockie, you love my cock, don't you?' Sherlock hummed in response. 'Want me to come down your throat?' the older man breathed out. Sherlock tried to nod, but Mycroft ignored him. 'No, I think I'll come all over that pretty face.'

He twisted his fingers through Sherlock's hair and grabbed at the younger Holmes' face with his free hand. He fucked Sherlock's mouth with abandon, listening to the choked-off moans and slick wet sounds of Sherlock thoroughly sucking his dick and enjoying it.

When he was close Mycroft pulled out and Sherlock's right hand immediately wrapped around his saliva-slick shaft. Mycroft opened his eyes to watch Sherlock jerk him off, his hips moving in tandem with Sherlock's hand.

'That's it, Sherlock,' the red-head moaned. 'Just a little more, make me come.'

Sherlock opened his mouth and tilted his head, eyes sliding half-shut, just as Mycroft finally came. Thick ropes of come splattered across Sherlock's nose, cheeks, and mouth, a few drops hitting his tongue when Sherlock aimed Mycroft's cock. Mycroft moaned and shook through his orgasm, muttering, 'Sherlock,' under his breath as he did.

Sherlock milked his brother for everything, moaning as he licked come from his lips. When Mycroft finally opened his eyes it was to see Sherlock trying to lick his face clean.

'Use your fingers, love,' Mycroft said.

Sherlock instantly dropped Mycroft's prick in favour of scooping come from his skin and into his waiting mouth. When he mostly clean Mycroft tugged him to his feet and licked the last drops free of his right cheek.

'Mycroft,' Sherlock moaned before his lips were captured, his mouth plundered. It was like Mycroft was trying to chase his own taste, and Sherlock went back to thrusting his hips against his brother's thigh.

When they broke apart Mycroft said, 'On the bed, on your back.'

Sherlock was quick to comply and as he laid back, legs spread, he watched Mycroft get undressed and fold his clothes beside his jacket and waistcoat. Mycroft was both taller and broader than Sherlock, with a larger body. Where Sherlock was slim and angular, Mycroft was stocky and soft.

Sherlock loved it; he'd always loved Mycroft's body. His cock twitched eagerly against his stomach as Mycroft climbed onto the bed. Sherlock raised a hand and started ghosting his fingers along Mycroft's freckled shoulders.

Mycroft smiled warmly. 'You can't get over them, can you?'

Sherlock shook his head. He had a few spots, but nothing like Mycroft's shoulders, arms, back, and chest. It was like someone had spray-painted Mycroft's upper-body until he was mostly covered in small brown dots.

Mycroft smiled and ducked down to press a gentle kiss to Sherlock's lips. As he did he straddled his brother's thighs and slowly aligned their cocks before grinding himself down. Sherlock gasped against his mouth and Mycroft took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Sherlock's mouth.

His tongue and hips moved in tandem, thrusting, grinding, moving in-sync. Sherlock moaned and writhed beneath his brother, his fingers scratching at Mycroft's warm, slightly sweaty back. Mycroft wouldn't be able to get hard so soon after that blow job, but just the feel of his cock sliding along Sherlock's was enough to make the younger Holmes buck up.

Mycroft allowed the movement but didn't stop plundering Sherlock's mouth, his moans going straight to Sherlock's already hard cock and making the younger man whimper and moan himself. Mycroft's hands were firm on his chest and arm, making sure he could keep Sherlock in line.

When the need for air became to great Mycroft broke the kiss and drew back. Sherlock huffed, 'Mycroft!'

'Shh,' the elder Holmes murmured. 'Stay quiet while I have a snack.'

Sherlock's pout was replaced with a grin and he wiggled eagerly. Mycroft chuckled as he straddled his brothers thighs before reaching over for the chocolate paste on the bedside table. Mycroft was on a strict diet and had been most of his adult life; a rather savage sweet tooth meant Mycroft couldn't stop at one of anything. But he had his indulgence; eating sweets off his brother's body.

Sherlock loved it too; he loved being worshipped by Mycroft's tongue; loved seeing his brother enjoy himself so much. That it felt amazing and led to frantic, mind-blowing fucking didn't hurt either.

Mycroft twisted the lid of the jar free and grabbed the small brush that had come with it. They could go through an entire jar-full over the course of a weekend. Unfortunately they didn't have much time and Mycroft would just have to make do.

Sherlock fought to keep himself in place- Mycroft liked working with a "steady canvas"- and watched as his brother dipped the brush into the paste. He flinched when the cold liquid was applied to his neck, but quickly adjusted.

Mycroft worked slowly and thoroughly, drawing strips up and down Sherlock's neck, chest, and abdomen. He made sure to slick up Sherlock's nipples and even went up his jaw to his lips (Sherlock had to stop himself from licking them clean). Lastly Mycroft lathered Sherlock's cock and testicles, making the younger Holmes whimper and the older smirk.

Mycroft put the jar and brush back on the night-stand before turning his attention to the man spread across the mattress before him. Sherlock was flushed the perfect shade of pink, and half-covered in chocolate paste that made Mycroft's mouth water. His cock was standing up proudly against his abdomen, twitching every time Mycroft's eyes drifted to it.

Mycroft couldn't control himself any longer and once again straddled his brother's thighs. He ducked down to lick from Sherlock's collar bone up to his jaw, moaning in appreciation as the sweet taste of milk chocolate hit his tongue.

Sherlock shivered in response as Mycroft licked up and down his neck, clearing away all traces of chocolate. He nipped and suckled at Sherlock's skin, leaving a love bite beneath his collar bone where his shirts would cover it. He moved back up to lick across Sherlock's jaw and lips, his brother's tongue darting out and drawing Mycroft into a filthy, dirty kiss. The bedroom was filled with their heavy panting and the wet sucking sounds of their kissing, followed by Sherlock's pants and Mycroft's groans as the politician moved down to clean his brother's chest.

He dragged his tongue from one nipple to the other and back again before fixing his lips and teeth around the left one and sucking. Sherlock let out a strangled groaned and Mycroft smirked as he licked the bud into a small peak. He dug his teeth in around it and Sherlock hissed, his hips jutting forward, his cock smearing pre-come over Mycroft's stomach.

Mycroft moved to the next nipple and did the same thing, before dragging himself further down. He nipped, sucked, and licked Sherlock clean, letting Sherlock's sounds of pleasure flow over him and through him. His cock was already twitching, ready to come back to life, and when Mycroft reached Sherlock's cock he was almost half-hard.

Mycroft sat up and leaned over to stick his left index finger into the chocolate paste. When he looked up Sherlock was watching him with hooded eyes and Mycroft smirked. 'Suck on this, love. Show me how a cock slut gives a blow job.'

The finger was pressed to Sherlock's lips and the younger man greedily sucked it in. He ran his tongue all over the digit, moaning and acting like he was sucking on Mycroft's cock again. Mycroft groaned in appreciation, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

'You're so good at that, love,' he commented before bending down and licking a strip from the crown of Sherlock's cock down to the root. Sherlock gasped, his teeth digging into Mycroft's finger in surprise, his hips jumping off the bed.

Mycroft growled and used his free hand to slam Sherlock's lower body back against the bed. He withdrew his finger and lightly slapped Sherlock across the face.

'Pay attention!' he hissed.

'Sorry,' Sherlock gasped, the first proper word he'd said in quite some time. He went back to sucking on Mycroft's finger, wanting his brother to go back to his cock.

'That's better,' Mycroft nodded and gave Sherlock's dick another lick in repayment. When Sherlock didn't move, apart from his lips and tongue, Mycroft rewarded him by taking the head of into his mouth.

Sherlock moaned, the sound muffled by Mycroft's finger. Mycroft sucked and licked the crown, clearing away pre-come and swallowing greedily. Nobody had ever or would ever taste as good as his little brother.

Sherlock whimpered, as though he could hear Mycroft's thoughts- which he might as well be able to, they could always tell what the other was thinking- and Mycroft smirked. He let his eyes drift up until he met Sherlock's, blue on blue, and slowly slid down, taking more and more of Sherlock's cock into his mouth.

He had long ago worked out how to control his gag reflex, so had no difficulties swallowing Sherlock down to the root.

Mycroft hummed around Sherlock's cock, feeling it pulse in his mouth and throat, and nuzzled the dark curls surrounding the root. He stayed as long as he could before drawing back, dragging his tongue and lips over the heated flesh, making Sherlock spasm beneath him and moan around his finger.

He went back down as soon as he'd drawn in enough breath. The taste of Sherlock's pre-come and sweat mixed with the chocolate paste wonderfully, the concoction coating Mycroft's tongue and throat when he swallowed. Mycroft let out a moan that sent vibrations up Sherlock's shaft and his own dick twitch in interest.

Finally Mycroft pulled his finger free to smooth his hands down Sherlock's sweat and saliva-slick body. His palms were warm and soft, sending tingles throughout Sherlock's entire body. The younger Holmes moaned and started moving, thankful when Mycroft allowed him. Honestly, how was he supposed to stay still when his brother was expertly giving him head?

Sherlock alternated between stroking his fingers through Mycroft's hair, down his neck, and across his shoulders. His brother's tongue did amazing things to his cock, but every time Sherlock felt like he was about to come, Mycroft moved on to lick, suck, or nibble another part of him.

It all mixed together to create a haze in Sherlock's mind, one that he didn't want to escape from. His brain only ever shut down during cases, when he took cocaine, or when he had sex with Mycroft. The last was by far the most pleasurable.

Mycroft held Sherlock's cock firmly by the root as he rubbed his lips up and down the side, across the head, smearing pre-come with his lips before licking it away. Sherlock whined, wanting to tell his brother to taste it from the source god damn it, but knew he was better than that; Mycroft liked Sherlock to show restraint and only talk when he was too far gone to stop himself.

Sherlock could keep it in for now.

That didn't stop him moaning when Mycroft sucked the head into his mouth, of course.

He bobbed up and down and let Sherlock push up a little, the brunette's feet planted firmly on the bed, his arse lifting ever so slightly. He drove half of his cock into Mycroft's mouth until the older man pulled back, sucking hard, tongue licking and twirling around the head.

Sherlock whimpered and let his head fall back as Mycroft expertly went back down on him. But he didn't want to miss anything and forced his eyes open. Watching Mycroft's pretty, polite mouth expand as he sucked on his little brother's dick was almost enough to make Sherlock come.

He gritted his teeth and moaned, twisting his fingers in the bed sheets. Mycroft pulled off his prick with a lewd pop and chuckled. 'Time to move on, hmm?'

Sherlock nodded rapidly.

'What, not too far gone to speak?' Mycroft teased. Sherlock scowled at him. 'Soon enough, little brother.'

Sherlock just nodded again.

Mycroft quickly moved aside, leaving Sherlock feeling cold, but the brunette smirked when he saw that his sibling was half-hard again. 'Turn over, flat on your stomach,' Mycroft ordered and reached for the sex paste again.

Sherlock was quick to do as he was told and heard Mycroft laugh at his enthusiasm. Sherlock didn't care, though; not if it got Mycroft's tongue in his arse, which his brother really enjoyed doing.

Sherlock flinched when the brush touched his back, quickly spreading cool liquid down his back. Mycroft only ever stopped to get more paste, and Sherlock shivered and moaned when the brush trailed over both his cheeks were sliding over the crack. Then his cheeks were pulled apart and Mycroft brushed back and forth over his puckered hole, not stopping until he was satisfied with the amount of paste.

Mycroft tossed the brush back on the bedside table, apparently too horny to put everything in it's proper place. He immediately straddled Sherlock's thighs and went to work; his tongue swept up and down Sherlock's spine, teeth occasionally making an appearance. Sherlock moaned loudly and buried his face in his pillow, his hips beginning to thrust into the sheets. Mycroft's tongue should be illegal.

Mycroft made short work of Sherlock's back but paused at his true prize; Sherlock's arse. He moved further down until his own was pressed to Sherlock's heels, his cock lightly brushing Sherlock's leg. Sherlock shivered just at imagining his brother's cock inside him; stretching him, filling him, forcing him to feel pain and pleasure in a delicious mix.

Mycroft pressed his lips to one cheek and nuzzled, getting chocolate all over his lips. He licked it clean before applying his tongue to Sherlock, both moaning at the feeling. There was nothing Mycroft loved more than his brother's arse; it was perfect, stunning, absolutely gorgeous. He couldn't wait to sink himself into Sherlock's tight heat. But for now he'd use his tongue.

Mycroft made sure to lick each and every delicious strip of chocolate from Sherlock's firm, pale globes before he used both hands to part his cheeks. Sherlock's entrance was completely smothered in chocolate and Mycroft groaned before darting his tongue out.

'Mycroft!' Sherlock gasped when he felt the warm, wet organ stroke across his entrance. 'Fuck, yes!'

Mycroft chuckled; Sherlock never could stay silent when he was getting rimmed.

'Oh God, don't stop,' the younger Holmes begged. 'Please, My, please!'

Mycroft went back to work, sliding his tongue up and down Sherlock's crack, slowly but surely cleaning the chocolate away. Soon his pucker came back into view and Mycroft could taste Sherlock's natural musk on his tongue. He hummed, licking his lips, before focusing on Sherlock's entrance.

'Ooh,' Sherlock moaned, voice muffled by the pillow he'd buried his face in. 'Yes, My! God, that feels good!'

Mycroft moved his tongue quickly, flicking over Sherlock's entrance, before drawing back and blowing. Sherlock twitched beneath him, as did his hole, and Mycroft smiled before burying his face between his brother's cheeks. He breathed in and out heavily as he continued tonguing Sherlock, wanting his senses to be absolutely filled with his little brother.

'Tell me how much you like it,' Mycroft ordered as he drew back. 'Tell me, Lockie.'

'Oh God,' Sherlock whimpered. 'Please don't stop, My!'

'Tell me!' Mycroft ordered before plunging his tongue as far into his brother's body as he could.

Sherlock screamed against his pillow, immediately thrusting his arse back, trying to force Mycroft in. Not wanting Mycroft to stop, Sherlock twisted his head and started babbling; 'Oh God, My, it feels so good! Fuck, you're so good! Please, brother, never stop, just stick it in more, please! Faster, more, oh God, yes!'

Sherlock's words went straight to Mycroft's cock and the elder Holmes found himself rutting against the younger man. His cock dragged along Sherlock's leg as he curled his tongue, trying to work Sherlock's muscles open. The small muscle wasn't enough and Mycroft let go of Sherlock with one hand, bringing his index finger to his lips. He sucked it into his mouth, spreading as much saliva as he could, before pressing it into Sherlock's hole alongside his tongue.

He was extremely tight and Mycroft pumped his finger and tongue a few times while Sherlock gasped and shuddered below him. The red-head pulled back long enough to ask, 'Did you stop using that toy I bought?' before going right back to work.

'It's n-not as- ah,' Sherlock gasped and stuttered as Mycroft's finger twisted and plunged into him, 'not as f-fun without... without y-you,' he managed to get out.

Mycroft smiled against his arse and tongued Sherlock's hole as he pushed another finger in. He'd never get over the feeling of his brother, or the sounds, the feel of his body. Mycroft let his tongue trail up and down Sherlock's crack and across his hole, but focused more on working his brother open.

'W-Wouldn't the lube- oh shit- h-help?' Sherlock tried.

Mycroft paused before withdrawing his fingers. Sherlock whined and Mycroft pressed a kiss to each cheek. 'Good idea, little brother.'

Sherlock smiled as Mycroft leaned across him to grab the flavoured lubricant from the bedside table. He popped the cap and drizzled a decent amount of Sherlock's crack, using his fingers to spread the brunette's cheeks. When he felt there was enough he shoved three fingers right into Sherlock's hole, making the younger man whine, moan, and flail about all at the same time.

Mycroft went back to work, this time with three fingers, soon adding a fourth, as well as his tongue. Sherlock started rutting back against him and Mycroft welcomed it, moaning and cursing as he was completely taken over by his brother's scent, sound, and body.

Soon enough Mycroft lost patience and felt that Sherlock was suitably prepared. He withdrew his fingers and sat up.

'Why'd you stop?' Sherlock demanded.

'Get on your knees,' Mycroft ordered. Sherlock scrambled to do as he was told and grabbed the headboard for support. Behind him Mycroft moaned and that was Sherlock's only warning before a warm hand slapped him hard across one cheek.

Sherlock bucked forward and groaned, head dropping as Mycroft spanked him again.

'You've been naughty this week,' Mycroft commented, kneading Sherlock's arse before slapping him again. 'I heard from Gregory that you insulted him.'

'God, don't mention his name!' Sherlock hissed.

Mycroft slapped him harder. 'Gregory's a good man.'

'Go fuck him then!' Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft chuckled. Sherlock didn't want him to, and Mycroft really didn't want to. Gregory was a handsome man, yes, but Mycroft only wanted Sherlock.

'I don't think so, little brother,' he said and slapped Sherlock firmly across the arse. The younger genius' skin was turning bright pink, and Mycroft ran his finger-tips over the marks. 'Your arse is the only one I want.'

'Then fuck me!' Sherlock whined. 'Please, Mycroft, I can't stand it any more.'

Mycroft couldn't either in all honesty. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck before grabbing the lube and slicking himself up. He nudged Sherlock's thighs apart and the brunette relaxed his muscles as he felt the head of Mycroft's cock nudge his loose entrance.

And suddenly Mycroft was sliding in, forcing Sherlock's muscles apart. Sherlock moaned, head tipping back, eyes sliding shut. He felt Mycroft press in before stopping, adding more lube, and thrusting in to the hilt.

Both moaned and Mycroft froze, flush against Sherlock's back, his cock completely swallowed by Sherlock's greedy hole.

'God, you feel amazing, little brother,' Mycroft breathed heavily into Sherlock's ear.

'Ah, you're so big,' Sherlock moaned. 'Always so big, My, so good!'

'How hard do you want it?' Mycroft asked.

'H-Hard,' Sherlock whimpered as Mycroft rolled his hips. 'Hard, but I want to come on my back, please. I want to see you when you come too.'

'If you want, love,' Mycroft said before he began to move.

Sherlock let out a loud moan as Mycroft drew out before thrusting back in. He moved slowly for a few minutes, letting Sherlock adjust to his cock, before he picked up his pace. Soon enough he was dragging Sherlock back by the hips until the younger Holmes was bent before the headboard, arse on display.

Mycroft's fingers dug into Sherlock's hips as he lunged in, his cock filling Sherlock completely, his balls slapping against Sherlock's arse.

'Fuck,' Mycroft moaned as he rolled his hips, feeling Sherlock's inner-muscles clench around his prick. Sherlock was hot and tight, wrapped around Mycroft perfectly, and sending pleasure racing through the older man's body. He drew back and slammed in with abandon, Sherlock's throaty moans and begs of , 'Yes, please! Harder, faster! Fuck, My!' driving him on.

Sherlock's arse felt wonderfully tight and Mycroft reached out to grab his cheeks. He kneaded them tightly, pulled them apart, and watched as his cock was swallowed over and over again by his brother's greedy back-side.

'Sherlock,' Mycroft moaned, eyes locked onto where he and his brother were connected. 'Fuck, you feel amazing. Next time you're riding me!'

'Yes,' Sherlock nodded. 'Yes, My, yes.'

'You like that, don't you?' Mycroft groaned. 'Having a cock in your arse? Having your hole filled up by me?'

'Y-Y-Yes,' Sherlock stuttered as Mycroft fucked him harder. He let his head drop, moaning obscenely, not caring how he sounded or looked as long as Mycroft kept pounding into him.

'Next time we'll use that toy I got you,' Mycroft growled from behind him. 'You can suck on it while I fuck your arse.'

Sherlock just whimpered in response and drove himself backwards. Mycroft stopped, letting the younger Holmes fuck himself on the elder's cock. He rubbed his hands up and down Sherlock's back, his sides, his gorgeous arse, before he lunged back in and grabbed Sherlock by the back of the hair.

He moulded their bodies together and licked up and down Sherlock's neck, Sherlock whimpering.

'How close are you?' he whispered huskily.

'I wanna come on my back,' Sherlock moaned. 'Please, My, you promised!'

Mycroft smiled and drew out. 'Roll over like a good boy, little brother,' he said. Sherlock scrambled to do as asked and groaned when Mycroft threw both his brother's legs over his arms. He used one hand to thrust his cock back in and Sherlock's muscles immediately tightened around him.

'Fuck, you feel too good,' Mycroft moaned. 'I can't keep going, Sherlock, you make me so hard.'

'Fuck me,' Sherlock ordered.

What little self-control Mycroft had snapped and he took Sherlock with abandon. The bed squeaked under them and the headboard slapped into the wall with a dull thud that rhymed with their fucking. The room was filled with their heavy moaning and Sherlock's begs of, 'Fuck, My, more!'

His brother was just getting tighter and tighter, and Mycroft faster and faster. Sherlock's legs fell and wrapped themselves around Mycroft's waist, and Mycroft let himself fall forward to crush his lips and body against Sherlock's.

They exchanged heated, sloppy, breath-filled kisses, each moaning obscenities and each other's names. Sherlock's cock bobbed up and down between them and Mycroft slid one hand around it, twisting and pulling in time with his thrusts.

Fresh pleasure burst through Sherlock's body and he clenched, pulling Mycroft further towards the edge.

'Fucking hell, Sherlock,' Mycroft moaned as he snapped his hips, his brother's channel getting tighter and tighter with each thrust. 'Fuck, you feel so good!'

'Fuck me!' was Sherlock's response. Mycroft pulled on his cock and thrust at the same time. He drew back to watch; watch Sherlock's head tip back, his back arch, his teeth grit together. His body was covered in sweat and he was bright red. 'Oh fuck,' Sherlock moaned, signalling his impending release. 'Oh fuck, fuck me, My! Oh God, I'm so close, just there!'

Mycroft angled his hips and-

'FUCK!' Sherlock roared as Mycroft repeatedly stabbed his prostate. 'Fuck yes, My, yes! I'm gonna come! Oh God, oh God, oh God, fuck me, fuck me, harder!'

Mycroft jerked and fucked his brother, his entire body on fire, his legs threatening to give out. Just as he thought he could go no more Sherlock tightened around him, his cock expanded, and he came.

'MYCROFT!' Sherlock screamed as he exploded between them, covering his own stomach and Mycroft's fist in come. He immediately clamped down on Mycroft's own prick and the older Holmes hissed out Sherlock's name as he spilled into his brother.

The Holmes brothers shook and moaned against each other, each lost in their pleasure, in each other. Finally Mycroft pulled out and Sherlock flopped onto his back, looking completely boneless and exhausted.

Mycroft chuckled and smiled warmly at his sibling before standing. On shaky legs he went over to the dresser and hunted around for the tissues he knew Sherlock kept. When he came back he cleaned them both up as best he could before nudging Sherlock.

'Hnn, go 'way,' Sherlock mumbled.

'Did you want me to strip the bed now or wait until later?' Mycroft asked.

'Later,' Sherlock murmured. 'We're going to do it again, right?'

Mycroft smiled. 'Right,' he echoed. He climbed back onto the bed and threw a pillow over the wet spot Sherlock had left. His brother could always toss it all in with John's sheets later. As soon as he settled down Sherlock migrated across to him and Mycroft opened one arm, letting Sherlock snuggle against him. Sherlock threw one arm over Mycroft's waist and rested his head against the red-head's chest.

Sherlock sighed as he got comfortable. 'I wish we had more time together; even if it's just this, no sex.'

'We would if you hadn't decided to move out,' Mycroft commented.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'We were miserable living together, Mycroft, and you know it. Yes, I miss having sex whenever we wanted, but we didn't work well living in the same flat.'

Mycroft smiled and brushed his fingers through Sherlock's curls. 'I know,' he nodded, 'but I still miss waking up to find you naked on the sofa.'

Sherlock smirked. 'I still do that when I stay at your flat for the weekend.'

'Hmm, we need another naked weekend,' Mycroft commented.

'John's visiting his sister in three weeks,' Sherlock said. 'Do you think you can last that long?'

'No,' Mycroft answered immediately. 'Can you?'

The brunette sat up to look at his brother's eyes, blue locked on blue. 'No,' he admitted and smiled widely, 'but that's what booty calls were made for.'

Mycroft rolled his eyes and dragged Sherlock back down. 'Another side-effect of you living with John,' he muttered.

'That's what this is,' Sherlock shrugged. 'A booty call.'

Mycroft tilted his head. 'Do I detect a trace of annoyance in your tone, brother?'

Sherlock didn't answer.

Frowning, Mycroft said, 'Do you not like meeting up just to have sex?'

'It's fine,' Sherlock murmured.

He still sounded annoyed and Mycroft continued to frown until his large brain came up with an answer. 'Would you maybe like to join me for dinner on Friday night?' he asked hesitantly.

Sherlock jumped up quickly and twisted his head to look at his sibling. 'Really?'

Mycroft nodded. 'We can drive out of London, go somewhere discreet, enjoy a lovely dinner, and go back to my flat.'

'Hmm... can we go to a hotel?' Sherlock asked. 'An expensive one so we can have a bath together, and a mini-fridge filled with food for sex, and drawers filled with sex toys, and-'

Mycroft sat up and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, effectively shutting him up. They kissed softly before Mycroft broke it.

'All of that is why I want to go back to my flat,' he said. 'I have everything we need.'

'Okay,' Sherlock grinned before pausing. 'This will happen, won't it? You won't back out of it?'

Mycroft shook his head. 'I promise, Lockie. Make up something for John if he isn't going out with Gregory, and I'll either pick you up here or around the corner. Deal?'

'Okay,' Sherlock repeated, back to grinning. He pecked Mycroft on the lips and settled down again, his head resting on Mycroft's warm chest.

'Do you know when John's returning?' Mycroft queried from above him.

'No,' Sherlock shook his head. 'Usually just after midnight, so unless you want him questioning why you're still here, either leave before then or wait until he goes to bed.'

'I have an early meeting tomorrow morning,' Mycroft told him, 'but I can stay for a while longer. And who cares if John sees me, it's not like he'll ever guess that we spent the past few hours having sex.'

'Speaking of sex...' Sherlock hummed and Mycroft could hear the smirk in his voice.

'Not just yet, love,' the elder brother said. 'Have a bit of a rest.'

Sherlock sighed.

'I promise we'll go again before I leave,' Mycroft said.

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. 'Good.' Mycroft echoed his gesture and bent down, kissing the top of his brother's head. He rested his head back against the pillow and sighed in content as Sherlock curled around him, the room cooling since the end of their coupling.

~MS~

John walked through the door humming, a definite spring in his step. His lips were kiss-swollen, and he was definitely sporting more than one hickey in undisclosed locations. He'd had just enough alcohol to make his mind buzz and throw caution to the wind; any other time he would have raced to his bedroom to hide his state as well as who'd exactly given him the hickeys and goofy grin.

As it was, he shrugged his jacket off as he closed the door and twisted his head to see Sherlock and Mycroft, both in the same positions as when he'd left six hours earlier; Sherlock lazing back on the sofa, blue dressing gown falling around his slim frame; Mycroft in John's armchair, twirling his umbrella in one hand, head tilted as he watched his brother.

Neither were glaring at each other any more, thank God, and the tension in the room had eased considerably. John wasn't sure if that was because Sherlock and Mycroft actually acted like family when he was gone, or if he was just drunker than he'd thought.

Shrugging, John stepped further into the flat and said, 'Alright, then?'

Sherlock hummed and Mycroft said, 'Absolutely fine, John. How was your night?'

Images of a certain grey-haired detective inspector flashed through John's mind- as well as large, warm fingers; soft, swollen lips; grunts and moans and begs of, "more, faster, harder"- and the doctor promptly blushed. 'Er, yeah, fine,' John cleared his throat. 'So, anyone fancy anything before I turn in?'

Mycroft's sharp blue eyes darted to him briefly before the man said, 'No thank you, John.'

'I'm fine,' Sherlock said from across the room.

John nodded and Mycroft said, 'I think I'll take my leave.'

Sherlock snorted. 'Yes, because God forbid you leave me alone; I must have my trusty blogger here to take care of me.'

'You'd suffocate in your own ego without John around,' Mycroft commented.

'Go to hell, Mycroft!' Sherlock snapped.

'I'll meet you there,' Mycroft retorted.

John sighed and rubbed his eyes as he watched Mycroft collected his jacket. He slung it over one arm and smiled at the doctor.

'John, always a pleasure.'

'Yeah,' John nodded. 'Bye, Mycroft.'

Mycroft tilted his head at the doctor before turning to his brother. 'Goodnight, Sherlock!'

'Night, Mycroft!' Sherlock snapped sarcastically.

Mycroft just smiled, offered John one last nod, and exited the flat. John stayed standing by the chair as he heard Mycroft descend the stairs and leave the building. Sighing now that they were alone, John turned to Sherlock.

'Can't you behave like adults?' he demanded.

A smirk curled at Sherlock's lips as he said, 'Nope,' making the "P" pop loudly.

John threw his hands up. 'Whatever,' he muttered and stalked towards the bathroom. He was too tired, too sleepy, and way too strung out to deal with Sherlock Holmes. He quickly brushed his teeth before throwing a, 'Night,' at Sherlock and heading to his bedroom to dream of sexy DIs with rather talented tongues.

~MS~

In the sitting room, Sherlock remained where he was for a few minutes, listening to John shuffle about upstairs. When he heard the older man settle down for the night- no doubt re-living every sordid detail of his and Lestrade's night- Sherlock sat up and lifted himself gracefully to his feet.

He shuffled through the flat near-silently, his brain still feeling doped-out from his brother's ministrations. He entered his room, shut the door quietly, and flopped face-first onto his bed. After inhaling deeply- the sheets still smelled of Mycroft and sex- Sherlock rolled over and groped for his mobile, eventually finding it on the bedside table closest to him.

The screen was already lit up with a text and Sherlock was smiling before he read it;

Sleep tight, Lockie - M

He sent a reply before tossing his phone aside and rolling under the covers. It was rare that Sherlock ever felt tired, but at that point in time he welcomed the soft sheets, the warm comforter, and the lingering smell of his elder brother. It was a heady concoction that had Sherlock falling asleep immediately, his imagination throwing up wonderful images of Mycroft spread out on the bedroom floor.

~MS~

Mycroft's BlackBerry trilled from his pocket, but the man in question chose to ignore it for the time being. Instead he smiled softly as he stared out the tinted window, watching the dark city roll by.

Eventually the private car reached the building that housed Mycroft's penthouse flat. He thanked his driver- James, this week- and headed inside. By the time Mycroft reached his home, he was feeling lethargic. He made short work of washing his face, brushing his teeth, and changing into pyjama bottoms and a cotton t-shirt.

Only when he was lying beneath his expensive sheets, the curtains of his bedroom window drawn back to let in the soft moonlight and glowing lights of the city, did Mycroft check his BlackBerry;

Don't let the bed bugs bite, My - S x

Mycroft smiled and placed his BlackBerry on the bedside table. He made sure his alarm was set for the morning, rolled over, and buried his face in the sheets. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Sherlock's body against his own; soft, warm skin; hot, choked breath; delicious, sinful moans.

When Mycroft fell asleep, it was with a grin on his face that matched Sherlock's.

~MS~

John finally heard Sherlock settle into his room and smiled warmly. The genius only ever slept in his bedroom for three reasons; he collapsed after a case; he was drugged; or Mycroft had just visited and, as they say, "rocked his world".

John might not have been the smartest man on the planet, or even in 221, but he wasn't an idiot. He saw the signs; the way Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other; the random texts Mycroft would send to Sherlock despite his detest for it; the way the flat would smell of Mycroft's distinct cologne, some type of flavoured lubricant, and sex after John got back from a long night.

John also realised that Sherlock had to know about him and Greg. But neither were ready to come out yet. In time, John mused as he rolled over, letting his mind drift back to his spectacular night with Greg Lestrade. And maybe then I'll come clean and tell Sherlock I know about him and his brother.

---

"You're not alone

Oh, oh, and now I'm where I belong

We're not alone

Oh, oh, I'll hold your heart and never let go"

- Billie Joe Armstrong [Green Day]

---

{THE END}

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Author's Note: No flames, please. If you dislike Holmescest, you shouldn't have read it; simple as that. In other news, happy birthday to the wonderfully awesome chasingriver, who's an amazing writer, beta, and friend. I hope you have a lovely day :)

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}