097. Writer's Choice – Cop Car Sex and Video Camera (for GalleonWillow)
It was late when he got home, and found the note. Waiting for you on the back patio. Come quickly. G. Mycroft could only wonder what was out there, and how long Gregory had been waiting in there for him. He glanced at his watch, and knew that he was two hours past the time he normally arrived home. Quickly, he put away his things and headed out to see what his lover wanted.
Greg was waiting for him, sitting atop a police car, looking pleased with himself. "What do you think?"
"Gregory, what is this?"
"It's a police car."
"I know what it is, what is it doing on my back patio?"
Greg whistled. "Wouldn't you like to know," he teased. He crooked his finger at Mycroft. "Come here, and sit with me."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, and began the perilous task of climbing on top of the police vehicle. Greg leaned over and gave him a soft kiss once he was seated next to him. "You know the wonderful thing about police cars, Mycroft? They have video cameras attached to their dash. And the nice thing about video cameras? They record acts, particularly ones that occur against the hood of the car."
"Yes, and why would that interest me at all, Gregory?"
Greg looked at him, hard in the eyes, until his face softened, and he whispered "Because I'd like to see your face on that camera when I make you come. That's why it should interest you."
Mycroft had very little objections to that. "We are outside, in the middle of London. Someone could hear us. We don't need your co-workers showing up to investigate a disturbance, do we?"
"It is 12:30 in the morning, I am on-duty, and you'll just have to keep quiet, won't you?" There was something in his eyes that said he was not going to let this go.
"I see," said Mycroft. "Well then, Detective Inspector, am I being charged with a crime? Or am I free to go?"
"Oh, no sir, Mister Holmes, you are certainly not free to go. I need to pat you down before I haul you in for questioning," Greg said, giving his voice an authoritative edge. He slid down the hood, and stood, motioning for Mycroft to do the same. "If you please."
Mycroft came sliding down after him, a bit more graceful and said, "There was something said about a pat down, sir?"
The 'sir' dripped off Mycroft's tongue like it was full of honey. Greg grabbed the lapels of Mycroft's pristine suit, and pushed him roughly down against the hood, kissing him hard and full-force. Mycroft opened his mouth beneath him, allowing himself to be man-handled, a war going on between their mouths. Their tongues slid messily against each other, fighting for dominance, and Mycroft shoved his hands between them, undoing the buttons on Gregory's jacket and shirt, exposing his tanned chest to the cold of the night.
Greg moved his hands from Mycroft's lapels to his arse, hefting him up the hood some more, to grind against him. The arse he had in his hands was the most glorious one he'd ever had, and he just couldn't get enough of it. He pulled back roughly, and flipped Mycroft over on to his stomach, reaching around him to deftly undo his trousers, and slip them and Mycroft's pants down, exposing his arse to the night.
Mycroft stretched out against the hood, and rubbed himself against Greg's hands, which were currently fondling him. "I'm not sure this is proper protocol for a-nngh- Detective Inspector, sir." Mycroft stifled a moan against his fist, wary of neighbors overhearing.
Oh, he loved it when Mycroft said 'sir' to him, in just that tone, that 'I'll p lay your game, but you remember who is the boss here' tone. He removed his hands from Mycroft's cock, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small tube of oil. He clenched the tube between his teeth as he rushed to get his trousers and pants down around his ankles. The oil he dribbled onto one hand went seeking Mycroft's cleft, working a finger in slowly, letting him adjust. Greg leaned over Mycroft's back, nibbling kisses here and there on his neck, obscured slightly by the collar of his shirt, slowly working in a second finger, listening to Mycroft's short panting and masked moans. "Yessssss, Detective Inspector. That, ngh, feels so, ah, good. Please give me your cock, sir. Pleeeeease," Mycroft moaned, shifting backwards onto Gregory's fingers, pushing harder and harder backwards on them, until his fingers crooked in just the right way, and made him see sparks. He moaned again, louder this time, and as Gregory's fingers slipped out of him, he whimpered at the loss. No sooner had he finished the whimper did Gregory's cock line up against him, and his body yielded completely to the pressure, caving in and allowing him to sink down on it.
Greg used one hand to push down on Mycroft's shoulder, gaining purchase to thrust harder and faster, and the other one to hold Mycroft's jacket and shirt up and out of the way. "Touch yourself," he husked out, voice dropping deep into baritone. "God, Mycroft you feel so –geh- wonderful." He couldn't stop the moan escaping from his lips, a matching one leaving Mycroft's throat as his hand closed around his cock, Gregory's thrusts making him rock into his own hand. Mycroft's moans were getting louder by the second, high on the pleasure of his hand around his dick, Gregory's inside of him.
"Come for me, Mycroft," Greg barked out. "I want to feel you coming while I'm inside you." Mycroft groaned, twitched his hips as Gregory's dick slid over that spot, making him see stars, and not but five strokes later was coming hard and white against the hood of Gregory's police car. He let out a high keening sound as he came, body seizing up around Gregory's prick.
Greg breathed shallow breaths, and sped up, Mycroft's muscles tightening around his dick. Oh how he loved that feeling. The feeling you can only get from being buried so deep in someone you love, you can feel their heartbeat pounding out a rhythm, and knowing yours matches. He let go of Mycroft's clothing, and slid his hand underneath to Mycroft's come, swiping his fingers through it, and lifted his fingers to his mouth. "Ohhhhh God, Mycroft, you taste so goooooooood, I'm going-"his breathing hitched as he came, stars exploding behind his eyes. He slumped over Mycroft's body, prick still twitching inside his lover's body, and regained his breath. Once he had recovered, Greg slid out, and rolled over, leaning back against the hood, starting to pull up his pants and trousers. Mycroft rolled over, reaching for his own pants and trousers, tucking himself back inside, and straightening his shirt and jacket.
Greg leaned his head next to Mycroft's, looking up at the night sky, before turning his head to kiss his lover's brow. Mycroft merely smiled, content to hold the silence. Abruptly, Greg stood up, and walked over to the driver side door, reaching in to the dash. He returned to Mycroft, a small tape in hand.
"Here," he said. "One for the collection. I've got to get back." He kissed Mycroft softly, pressing the tape into his hand.
Mycroft returned the kiss, smiling knowingly. "Be safe, Gregory," he said, leaning up from the hood, and turning to face him.
"I will, don't worry. I'll be home in the morning." Greg slid into the driver's seat, and drove off, back to the Met.
Mycroft keeps a special video tape in his collection. There were very few encounters he taped, but this one was particularly lovely. He occasionally took it with him when he went out of town on business, and would call Gregory, and leave him messages, groaning into the phone. This particular tape was from about two years prior, and involved a cop car, which Greg had provided, a video camera, which came along with the cop car, and the ability to make him come like nothing else.