Chapter Seven: Never Leave


Author's Note: I hadn't planned on updating with another chapter so soon but seeing as how it's Australia Day here (public holiday, people get drunk, yadda, yadda) I figured I'd give everyone a treat. Being Abroiginal (Indigenous Australian) I do not celebrate Australia day as it represents Britain invading the land my ancestors lived on for fifty-thousand years. But other Aussie's choose to celeberate so... happy Australia Day!

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}


Lestrade blinked in the sudden harsh light, shielding his eyes as the door creaked open. 'What?' he mumbled, back pressed to the cold wall. He'd been going through the shakes and sweating, his shirt stained and his mouth tasting of vomit. He felt a bottle being pressed into his hand and looked down.

'Soft drink,' John Watson murmured, crouching to look Lestrade in the eye. 'Get some sugar into you.'

Lestrade sipped from the bottle, the liquid burning his already raw throat. 'Thanks,' he grunted.

John smiled and Lestrade tried not to think of another smile... one with light pink lips, one on a young man completely naked above him...

He turned away and John asked, 'You okay?'

'No.'

'You'll be right soon. Should pass in a few hours.'

'Can't you let me go?' Lestrade asked. 'Please?'

'Don't think so,' John shook his head. 'Even if I wanted to let you out Sherlock would probably tackle me to the floor; Donovan too. They're real chummy over the matter.'

'Oh great,' Lestrade muttered, 'the one bloody thing they agree on is keeping me locked up.'

John sighed and rocked back on his heels. Lestrade knew what was coming; the talk.

'Greg,' he said slowly and Lestrade turned away. 'How long have you been a drug addict?'

'I'm not.'

John scoffed.

'Seriously, I'm not.'

'Right, so snorting coke isn't a drug addiction?'

'Nope,' Lestrade said and took another swig of his drink. 'Just a... momentary lapse in judgement.'

John sighed. 'Greg, I've heard plenty of people claim they don't have a problem. They tell everyone, and themselves, that they're fine, that the drugs don't have a hold on their life. Each time they're wrong.'

Lestrade wasn't an idiot; he knew that, once upon a time, he'd been a serious drug addict. But that was before Myc and with Myc and just after Myc... then he'd got clean, he hadn't gone on a massive binge in years. The last time had been his wedding anniversary. He'd fought with Sharon, he'd stayed at a hotel... he'd stroked his cock thinking about the one man that made everything better while he snorted his way through a bag of cocaine.

Lestrade swallowed. 'John, honestly, I'm alright.'

'Really?'

'No.'

John raised his eyebrows, surprised at Lestrade's sudden honesty.

'John, I'm not alright, not by a long shot,' Lestrade sighed and looked up at the doctor. All he saw was caring and warmth... Sherlock Holmes was a lucky man. 'But I haven't been a serious user since I was in my twenties. Honestly, I only slip every now and then.'

'How often?' John asked. Not judging, just asking.

'Last time was three years ago,' Lestrade admitted.

'Why?' John asked.

Lestrade bit his lip before he found words tumbling from his mouth. 'My wife and I fought. I took off, stayed in some hotel. Spent the week high as a fucking kite.'

'And Sherlock didn't know?'

Lestrade shrugged. 'I dunno; he's never said anything.'

John nodded slowly before asking, 'And this time?' Lestrade shook his head. He couldn't talk about Myc, not with John... not with anyone. 'Greg, I won't judge.'

'No.'

'Please–'

'No.'

John sighed and stood, stretching as his knees popped. 'Greg, I'm gonna go now but in an hour I'm coming back and asking you the same questions, alright?'

Lestrade shrugged. 'Doesn't mean I'm gonna answer.'

'No, you probably won't,' John nodded, 'but I'm still going to ask.'

'Why?'

''Cause I care about you; Sherlock does too.' Lestrade snorted. 'Scoff all you want,' John said, 'if Sherlock didn't care he wouldn't be here.'

Lestrade stared as John exited the cell, the door slamming shut behind him. He heard John talking about him outside to Sherlock and Donovan and sighed, shifting to hug his knees. He didn't want to be there, in the cell, with people all around worrying. He didn't want it, he didn't need it.

He just wanted to... what did he want? Lestrade didn't know anymore. He wanted some drugs, maybe a beer. He wanted to kiss his son goodnight and curl up with a warm body...

God, he should at least be honest with himself.

Lestrade wanted Myc.


They fell onto the bed kissing, Greg hugging Myc tightly. He couldn't believe the man was a junkie; he didn't look the type. He was all tall and lean and posh... but under the suits he was just as messed up as Greg.

Greg ran his fingers over Myc's inner-elbows, feeling the track marks under the pads of his thumbs. He moaned softly and kissed Myc harder.

'Track marks turn you on?' Myc grunted.

Greg was beginning to realise the man was a lot looser in bed. 'Mm, maybe.'

'How odd.'

'Sexy.'

Myc chuckled and pushed Greg onto his back. Greg smirked as Myc straddled him, bending to kiss him hard and push forward. Their erections rubbed together and Myc began moving, their trapped cocks growing harder and hotter.

'Fuck me now, you wanker.'

'Such uncouth language,' Myc tutted. 'What am I going to do with you?'

'Fuck me?' Greg asked.

'Is that what you want?'

'Duh.'

Myc smiled. 'Maybe I'll just rub myself up against you all day long.'

'Don't you have a job?' Greg asked.

'Don't you?' Myc countered.

'Just get your cock out.'

'How is that after one round of sex with another man you're so comfortable?' Myc asked, leaning back to look Greg over. 'I find it fascinating.'

'You feel comfortably too, don't you?'

'Yes but I'm...' he trailed off before looking Greg in the eye. 'I'm different.'

'How so?'

'I'm a genius.'

Greg snorted but his smirk drifted away when he realised Myc wasn't smiling. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes.'

'You're a genius?'

'Have been all my life.'

'What's your IQ?'

'I honestly don't know.'

'Then how can you tell you're a genius?'

Myc rolled his eyes. 'Greg, I can speak seven languages. I am the most indispensable man in the country, I have contacts in every part of the world and I could write and solve complex equations by the time I was four. I. Am. A. Genius.'

Greg was silent all of four seconds before saying, 'So not a spy?'

Myc groaned and pulled himself off.

'What? What'd I say?'

Myc sighed. 'Greg, I'm twenty-years-old,' he said softly. 'I've always been different; my whole life. It's one of the reasons I do drugs.' He bit his lip. 'I scare people because I'm different. I've always had a hard time grasping emotions and connecting to other people.'

Greg shifted to lean on one elbow, eyes on his lover.

'I'm a genius and it's not always a good thing. If I wasn't I'd have a better relationship with my parents. If I wasn't I could have a nice, normal life. If I was just a little dumber I'd... I'd be happy.'

Greg reached out to cup Myc's cheek; the man looked ready to cry.

'Hey, I believe you.' Myc blinked at him. 'I don't care about any of that.'

'You don't?'

'Not unless you start speaking another language in bed... and that's not necessarily a bad thing.' Myc smiled. 'We're all different, Myc; I'm messed up too. Look at me, I've been a drug addict since I was your age. I have a good job, loving parents, I could probably settle down with a nice girl if I wanted. But what do I do? I snort coke and offer blow jobs to get more.'

'You do?'

'Yeah,' Greg nodded, swallowing and looking away. 'I'm just as messed up as you, Myc.'

'You're not messed up.'

'I am.'

'Not.'

Greg sighed. 'I am, Myc. But right now that doesn't matter. Does it ever matter? We're all gonna die one day. Might as well go out with a bang.'

Myc smirked. 'You sound like my brother.'

'He must be a genius too.'

'Well...'

Greg smiled and pulled Myc closer. 'None of that shit matters; none of our shit matters. Can't we just be together? Can't you just fuck me into the mattress and make me scream your name?'

Myc blushed and ran a hand down Greg's side. 'Well, I suppose I could.'

'Good,' Greg said. 'So none of it matters, alright? Politics and criminals and parents and all that shit, it don't matter.'

'Doesn't.'

'What?'

'It doesn't matter,' Myc corrected. 'Not don't.'

'You're a prat.'

'And?'

'Get over here.'

For once in his life, Myc let go. He melted into the kisses and pulled at Greg's pants, wrapping long fingers around that hard cock he'd grown to admire. Greg groaned and bucked into the touch, lips desperate and tongue licking away.

'Fuck me...' he mumbled. 'P-please?'

Myc swallowed before nodding. He slipped from his own bottoms and watched Greg do the same, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe he was going to have sex with a man... again. This week was full of surprises.

Greg handed Myc the bottle of lube and the politician slicked up his fingers. He pushed Greg back and the police officer spread his legs, shivering in anticipation.

'Are you sure about this?' Myc asked.

Greg nodded, arousal and fear spreading through his body in an exhilarating mix. 'You seemed to enjoy it,' he said and smiled at the blush that worked up Myc's pale neck. 'I'm... curious.'

'You're weird.'

'Curiously weird.'

Myc rolled his eyes and touched Greg's cock slowly before moving down to his arse. He rubbed lube between his cheeks before looking up at Greg for confirmation. The older man nodded and gripped the sheets as Myc pushed a finger in.

It didn't hurt; it just felt weird. Greg shifted on the bed as Myc pulled his finger out before going back in, thrusting in and out slowly over a minute or two. His eyes were locked on Greg's, the officer staring down at where Myc's finger disappeared into him.

'Another?' Myc asked and Greg nodded. He added his middle finger and this time a small bolt of pain speared through Greg's lower half. He clenched before forcing himself to relax, biting his lip as Myc continued to fuck him with his fingers.

'It gets better,' Myc said.

'When?' Greg asked.

Myc grinned and pushed a third finger in, scissoring them and sending a spasm of pain through his older lover's arse.

'Owe, fuck!'

Before Greg could ask him to stop, Myc had twisted his fingers to touch the small cluster of nerves that would send Greg wild.

The pleasure was like nothing Greg had ever experienced before. He moaned and thrust himself down, wanting Myc to do that again. He did and Greg writhed on the bed, pushing more and more until he was fucking himself on Myc's fingers.

'Please, fuck, need you!'

Myc removed his fingers and fiddled with a condom, finally rolling the rubber on and slicking himself up. He pushed Greg's legs apart and held his breath as he slid in.

Greg groaned in pain before Myc started thrusting, not being anywhere near as gentle as Greg had been with him. There were a few moments of Greg biting his lip and wanting to stop but then Myc's cock hit his prostate and everything was so good again.

'Fuck, there, right there!' Greg shouted.

Myc pulled all the way out before jamming himself back in, moaning at the sensations assaulting his body. Fucking a man was... it was so good.

Greg felt every nerve, every fibre, every goddamn little atom of his body alight with fire. What Myc was doing with his cock, with his hands, with his lips and tongue and breath and voice. How the fuck was one man capable of making Greg feel so great? How could one man hit every single spot the officer had without knowing them? How could–

'Oh God, never stop,' Greg begged as one of those talented hands wrapped around his cock to pump in time with their thrusts. 'Never, ever stop.'

Myc had somehow managed to be everywhere at once; his cock slid in and out of Greg with a precision that had Greg gaping. His right hand was wrapped firmly around the older man's cock, thumb caressing his head and spreading copious amounts of pre-ejaculate. His left was gripping Greg's hip, nails digging in and adding little spears of pleasure every time he squeezed harder. His lips were hard on Greg's, their chests rubbing together as Myc stole Greg's breath with every hard kiss, tongue lapping at the sweat clinging to Greg's skin.

'Oh fuck,' Greg moaned as another stab at his prostate had his body burning and aching. He was so full, so thoroughly full, he felt like Myc had climbed right into him. He never wanted the man to leave; he wanted to be fucked like this each and every night.

'M-Myc... gonna... fuck!'

He came suddenly, spewing across Myc's hand and his stomach. Myc continued to thrust, drawing out the longest and most amazing orgasm Greg had ever felt. Everything went white then black then some colour Greg had never seen before. There were stars and planets and an entire goddamn solar system dancing around his head as he shouted again, the pleasure threatening to make him implode.

'Oh God, oh God, Jesus Mary Fucking Christ!'

He squeezed tighter and tighter around Myc until the man could move no more; an orgasm was torn from his body, a scream from his lips. It was muffled as he crushed his mouth against Greg's, each man panting into each other and kissing.

When Myc finally pulled out Greg was truly fucked. He'd never felt so completely and utterly satisfied. He'd never walk again, or eat or work or snort coke. No, he didn't want any of that. He wanted Myc; now, later, forever.

'Fucking hell,' Greg groaned, trailing a hand through the sticky come on his stomach. 'Are you sure you've never done that before?'

'Yeah,' Myc grunted, vocabulary shooting out the window as soon as he'd entered Greg.

'I... fuck me, Myc. I... God, seriously, you could make money with that level of skill.'

Myc chuckled. 'Are you asking me to pimp myself out?'

'I'll pay you a million dollars each fuck.'

'I'm rich enough, thanks.'

'Genius. Rich. Drug addict. Un-fucking-believable in bed. I'd marry you if I could.'

'Oh, what a man will say after a good screw.'

'I'll say anything if we do that again,' Greg said.

'I was really that good?'

Greg, somehow, managed to roll over so he could look at the other man closely. 'Myc, seriously. If I could feel any of my body parts I'd let you fuck me again. Unfortunately you've ruined me.'

Myc smiled. 'Good.'

'What?'

'It means only I can have you.'

'Oh God, I'll never have sex with anyone else,' Greg said, grabbing Myc and drawing him in for a sloppy kiss. 'Seriously, you've absolutely ruined me.'

Myc chuckled. 'So I should get over my insecurities?'

'Oh yeah,' Greg nodded. 'You're so fucking good in bed you could be a mass murderer and I wouldn't give a fuck.'

'Interesting.'

'Shut up.'

They held each other softly, both staring and smiling and kissing and touching. Greg felt all his problems and fears melt away when Myc pressed a kiss to his lips.

'Stay?' Greg asked.

'I don't wanna go anywhere.'

'Good,' Greg said. 'I'm never letting go.'

'Mm?'

'Oh yeah.'

Myc smiled. 'Good.'

'Good?'

'Good.'