First Send a Prompt and a Pairing poor lonely thing was sent 2014-07-07. Another bus fic.
Originally posted to AO3 on 2014-12-22.
"I am not wearing that," Mycroft sniffed, turning his nose up at the leather skirt. Greg frowned as he turned his own eyes to the piece of fabric.
He'd seen his partner staring almost longing at it when they'd passed the little specialty clothing shop earlier that week, and despite how much the Holmes brothers liked to pretend they had perfect masks, they really didn't. At least, not around John and himself. So why was My resisting this so much?
The younger man turned his attention back to the book in his lap and the brandy in his hand as Greg stared at the article of clothing. The longer he looked at it, the more it reminded him of his leather jacket from his punk days. Which My had just seen the day before they'd passed the skirt displayed in the shop's windows. Ah.
"I'm sorry I misunderstood," Greg said, keeping his face twisted in the expression of confusion that had formed with the initial rejection. "I'll just go... put this away."
My just waved his hand and the detective inspector made his way from the sitting room to the stairs and up to their room, barely resisting the urge to sprint. It had been ages since he'd done anything like this, but he was pretty sure he had a kit stuffed in one of his old suitcases, wrapped in his old jacket.
A quick, quiet rummage revealed both the jacket and his eyeliner, the latter of which he applied with quick sweeps of the dulled pencil tip. One of the zippers on the skirt was actually a zipper, and that went on in short order, followed by his jacket, a beauty of a thing with two zippers that, when he set them just right, left his belly and his chest bare.
He knew he he'd fattened up a bit since the days of his youth- long hours, excessive coffee, and sporadic but terrible meals at fault, but his lover had shown him time and time again that there was no shame to be had.
Greg slipped down the stairs and into the sitting room to find that his partner had put down his book and was simply resting, eyes closed against the heat of the fire in the fireplace. On silent, bare feet, the silver-haired man strolled over and straddled the other man's legs.
My's eyes had popped open before Greg even had the chance to grind his erection into the soft stomach of someone who spent far too much time behind a desk. My hated it. Greg loved it.
"Gregory," the man murmured, eyes widening in surprise before lowering in a clear sign of arousal. "You figured it out," he continued in a low, controlled tone betrayed by the way his soft hands slid under the leather and gripped hard at Greg's bare arse.
"Sorry it took so long," Greg replied, hips rocking continuously. A shark-like grin cracked his lips as he felt the answering awakening of his lover's erection below his. With knowing fingers, he reached down between them to pull it out and wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, not really thrusting, just grinding. Judging by the fingers flexing bruises into his arse, My didn't mind much.
Pleasure was low sparks of electricity where his cock was pressed to his lover's, and in an embarrassingly short time filled with nothing but the sound of their deep breaths, they were spilling across Greg's hand.
Limbs buzzing, the DI wiped his wet palm on his lover's trousers, lips quirking in amusement when the man simply gave an annoyed sigh. Normally Greg wouldn't be so blasé about ruining another's clothes, but the posh git was going to send the entire outfit to be dry cleaned tomorrow anyway.
Though he must have been heavy, My didn't make a sound when Greg settled in fully on his lap and across his chest. The motion was simply accompanied by those long-fingered hands kneading his arse beneath the skirt.
"You know," Greg finally said, breaking the silence, "I just saw a pair of knickers the other day that would go brilliantly with another old jacket of mine." His lover didn't say a word, because the fingers that traced the space between Greg's arse cheeks and pressed against his hole spoke for him.
FIN
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