Chapter Nine: Together But Not Together

Author's Note: No sex yet, sorry, but some good old fashioned masturbation. Soon, very soon, I will write a good sex scene. If that's not what you like, sorry. But we're all adults and adults in a relationship partake in some form of sexual stimulation with each other. Therefore Mycroft and Lestrade will do the same.

I live to entertain.

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}

The restaurant was fancy, but not too fancy. Mycroft seemed to know that Lestrade didn't like big, over-the-top poshness. And while Mycroft spent most late-night business meetings dining in restaurants where the meals could cost a small fortune, he felt completely at ease in this small place with Gregory Lestrade.

They were seated at the best table and a waitress hurried over. She took their drink order and Lestrade hesitated, looking over the wine list. Mycroft was aware of Lestrade's alcoholism but the man had been sober for almost a year. Mycroft hoped he didn't slide back like he did with cigarettes. But he'd be there to help if that were the case.

Lestrade closed the drinks menu and said, 'Just water, please, with ice.'

The waitress nodded and turned to Mycroft.

'Same for me, thank you,' he said and handed over his menu.

'Mycroft, no,' Lestrade said. 'If you want to drink you can.'

Mycroft leaned forward and clasped one of Lestrade's hands with his own. He ran his index finger over the man's calluses. 'Gregory, I do not need to drink to enjoy my dinner. All I need is good company.' He smiled and leaned forward to kiss Lestrade's hand. 'And from where I'm sitting, you are the best company I could possibly hope for.'

Lestrade's heart fluttered and he leaned forward. His lips found Mycroft's and they kissed again, both feeling their hearts beat quickly. Lestrade rested his hands on the table and Mycroft leaned into him, moving to hold his face.

Someone cleared their throat and the two men broke apart, faces flushed. The waitress smiled and said, 'Sorry, sirs, but would you like to order dinner now?'

Mycroft smiled and said, 'Yes. Before that, though, is there any chance we could move to a smaller table?'

He winked at Lestrade, who giggled.

-oOo-

Lestrade had never had so much fun. Mycroft was the perfect amount of whit, charm, and sex appeal. He could have Lestrade laughing, crying, or just thinking. The way he looked at Lestrade, the way his fingers touched him, it was enough to send Lestrade over the edge.

Lestrade wasn't without his appeal. Mycroft found himself completely captivated by everything the DI had to say. Whether it was about work, football, or his sisters (Sydney and Isabelle, I remember those from a file), Mycroft just couldn't stop looking and listening. Every time Lestrade shifted and knocked Mycroft's knee under the table, Mycroft felt himself harden. Every time Lestrade ran a hand through his hair (which he did often, Mycroft noted), Mycroft himself wanted to lean forward and do it.

They didn't leave the restaurant until closing and both were giddy with joy. Lestrade had a bag of cheesecake in one hand and he tucked into under an arm as he pushed Mycroft against the wall of a shop. There were only a few people walking the streets so Mycroft didn't mind.

Lestrade kissed him carefully, softly, like it was their first time, and pressed his crotch against Mycroft's. He was met with a satisfying bump and Mycroft pushing back against him.

'We... shouldn't be doing this,' Mycroft gasped, 'in public.'

Lestrade agreed but couldn't help himself. The man was so bloody attractive. Finally Mycroft got control and pushed Lestrade back. But he continued holding the other man's hand, even when they climbed into Mycroft's car.

-oOo-

Mycroft walked Lestrade to his front door. It all felt like Lestrade was the woman; he got picked up, taken out, paid for, and walked to his door. Lestrade didn't mind, though. While he wasn't poor he certainly didn't have very much money. Mycroft was, well, loaded. The whole thing felt right; Mycroft leading, Lestrade following. Except in the bedroom... Lestrade knew he'd lead in the bedroom... maybe.

'I guess this is good night,' Mycroft said. Lestrade pressed himself against Mycroft and pushed him back to the opposite wall. Mycroft smiled and said, 'Why do I always end up like this?'

Lestrade kissed him and murmured, 'It doesn't have to end. The night, I mean.'

Mycroft continued kissing him for a minute before sighing and pulling away.

'What?' Lestrade asked.

'I don't want to move too fast,' the other man admitted.

Lestrade snorted. 'We've waited five years, Mycroft.'

'While that is true,' Mycroft said and laced his fingers with Lestrade's, 'I want this to be proper relationship, Gregory. I don't...'

'What?' Lestrade asked.

Mycroft sighed. He really didn't want to share this with Lestrade.

'You can tell me,' Lestrade insisted.

A pleading look had Mycroft telling the truth.

'I've never had a proper relationship, or even a first real date. For me it's always been one night things, just a quick shag and then I disappear. I don't...' he paused and looked at Lestrade carefully. 'I want this to be real, Greg. I don't want to screw it up.'

Lestrade smiled and leaned against Mycroft so the taller man could wrap his arms around him. 'That's not going to happen, Mycroft. I'm not going anywhere. And we can take it as slow as you want.'

Mycroft smiled and kissed his hair. 'Thank you.'

Lestrade leaned back and looked up at him. 'But if I have to wait another five years for you to fuck me, I'm going to kill you.'

Mycroft chuckled and kissed him again. 'I promise that won't happen, Gregory.'

Smiling, Lestrade walked back to his apartment and opened the door. He turned and kissed Mycroft again, a hot, passionate one that had the younger man gasping for air. Lestrade pulled back and smirked.

'You'd be getting more if you stayed,' he said. He gave Mycroft a quick peck and said, 'Good night, Mycroft.'

Mycroft smiled. 'Good night, Gregory.'

Lestrade shut the door.

-oOo-

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily. That had been the best first date of his life. Mycroft was... he was annoying, and sometimes rude, and had far too much power... but Greg loved him.

Greg sighed and looked down at his pants. He could see the bulge his dick was making and if Mycroft wasn't going to help in person...

Greg locked the front door and undressed on his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, skipped the shower, and climbed into bed wearing only boxers and a white singlet. He prodded at his erection with his good hand and felt it stiffen more.

Reaching in, Greg flopped himself out and began stroking carefully, thinking about Mycroft, about his laugh and smell and the way he felt beneath that suit.

'Oh, fuck,' Greg groaned and reached over to his draw. He'd bought lube and condoms (fat lot of the good the latter was going to do) earlier but now he was alone, he only needed the lube.

He slathered his hand and went back to stroking himself, thinking about that handsome politician the entire time. He imagined it was Mycroft's hand, or better yet, Mycroft's mouth. That thought alone had Lestrade tensing beneath the sheets and he came with a small gasp.

Greg laid there for a few minutes, collecting himself. He took a deep breath and reached for the tissues. After cleaning himself up and making sure his sheets were clean, Greg rolled over and closed his eyes.

Smiling, his dreams all revolved around Mycroft Holmes.

-oOo-

Out in the corridor, after Greg shut the door, Mycroft just stood there. He could feel Greg on him, could still taste and smell him... it was sustaining the erection Mycroft had had since Greg had pushed him against the wall... the last time.

He poked it and felt it quiver but now was not the time to take care of it. Mycroft tried to think un-sexy thoughts (and failed spectacularly) as he made his way back down to the car. Saying no to Greg Lestrade seemed like the biggest mistake he had ever made.

He got home and undressed slowly, not bothering to take a shower. As he sat on his bed he looked down and realised he was still hard. How was that possible?

Mycroft picked up his shirt and sniffed it. He could smell Greg's cologne. It sent a shiver of lust through Mycroft and he suddenly found himself doing something he hadn't done in a good few months.

He wanked while thinking of another man.

It was Greg doing it, not him... at least that was what Mycroft told himself. He imagined Greg, his smile, his eyes, that sexy silver hair. He groaned a little and increased his strokes, sniffing at his own shirt again. Greg, it all smelt like Greg.

Mycroft came suddenly, something else he hadn't done in a while. He gasped and sat panting, staring at his now limp dick.

He cleaned himself up quickly and fell back, pulling the covers over him. As he drifted to sleep, he realised the last time he had come was very similar... he'd been thinking about Greg Lestrade then, too.

Author's Note: I know I've suddenly started writing 'Greg' instead of 'Lestrade', but it just felt right. I'd always intended to call him Lestrade through the entire story but it seemed wrong somehow. So get used to seeing it.

I live to entertain.

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}