A/N: I'm changing the rating after this chapter to M. There's sex in this chapter. Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoying! This was fun.
Again, warning for sex.
If Mycroft knew before that having a boyfriend would be so much trouble, he probably would've lived his entire life fine without one.
First, there's the frankly magnificent kissing. It's not sanitary. There's tongues and teeth and sometimes there's a little bit of peanut butter or apple. And just the trouble of wanting it all the time. When he sees Greg first thing in the morning, they kiss. When he sees Greg between classes, they kiss. When they meet for lunch, they kiss. When they part from lunch, they kiss. When they meet again after school, they kiss. It's all the time.
And frankly it's bloody annoying. The want, the need to press his face against another person's? Who's idea was this? And why is it so fantastic?
Second, there's the publicity of it all. There's the stares he gets when he enters a room. There's the constant jealous looks from girls who now hate him because they seem to think they lost their chance with Greg. There's the few glares he gets from people who hate gay people, for some odd reason (honestly, it's not like he's a serial killer). It's the fact that it's five months on and still, nobody can find anything better to talk about than Wonder-Stud Greg Lestrade dating Super-Loser Mycroft Holmes.
Third, there's all the…feelings. It's feeling mushy when he's near. It's feeling empty when he's gone. It's longing for him and wanting him all the time. It's sitting on the sofa and needing to run his hands through Greg's hair. It's the pleasure he finds in the simplest things like taking care of Greg by buying him a stupid sandwich. It's feeling upset for Greg when Jim tries to get in contact.
It's the burn he feels in the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine when Greg kisses him deeply, when Greg licks him at that spot on his neck, when Greg's fingertips butterfly touch their way up Mycroft's thigh when they're sitting on the sofa watching television, when Mycroft spreads his legs and wants Greg to—
It's the blush washing over his body when he daydreams, again, of Greg settling between his thighs and touching him the way he touches himself.
It's the fear that this is all so new and so sudden and he wasn't prepared before so five months isn't long enough to know you're ready but you're seventeen already and fuck it if you're not turned on so bloody much every afternoon because Greg whispers how much he wants you while licking the rim of your ear and pressing his hips against your thigh and he's finally told you how much he's daydreamed about you for years, to ruin you the way you want to ruin him and rumple his clothes a little bit and leave marks with your lips everywhere on his skin—
But it's also knowing that you love him. You want to show him with your body. And you want it to be beautiful.
Mycroft's sure it will be, when it finally happens. He doesn't think it'll be for a while, not with Greg afraid he's going to break Mycroft every time things are getting hot.
Which is fine.
Greg respects him. Cares for his feelings.
Which is fine.
Mostly.
Alright, it's getting annoying.
It's getting annoying because not only does he actually desperately want Greg to do whatever the hell Greg damn well pleases to his body, but also because he has other things to worry about, like Greg eating right, Greg's funky infected toe nail from jamming his toe playing football last week, Greg's study habits (which are more atrocious than his infected toe nail), Greg's dad staying away, and the constant worry that Greg's suddenly going to wake up one day and decide this was all a huge mistake.
So all in all, being in love is terrible. Mycroft wouldn't recommend it to anyone, instead he'd say something like, "It's awesome and terrible at the same time."
Mycroft checks his watch again. It's fifteen after. He's been sitting in this alarmingly disgusting diner for twenty minutes. The waitress has come by three times to make sure he's okay, and Mycroft thinks he probably looks like a loser who has been stood up.
Where is he? Mycroft wonders, staring out the window at the people passing. The few who look at him look sorry for him.
He checks his watch again. Twenty after. He takes his phone out to call that dumb boy of his when the little bell on the diner door jingles rapidly. He looks up on time for Greg to lunge forward and kiss him quickly before sliding into the booth next to him.
"Hey babe," Greg says, "Sorry I'm—"
Mycroft rubs his cheek. "I'm so glad you're here, but you stink."
Greg pauses for a moment, then lets out a loud laugh. "I'm sorry," he says, then shifts to sit at the booth across from Mycroft. He takes off his coat and lays it on the seat next to him, then folds his arms in front of him. "So, how's it going?"
"Fine, just," Mycroft sighs dramatically and looks out the window. "Sitting here, waiting forever for my boyfriend. Late again, as usual, it's like he doesn't—"
"Hey! I was on time yesterday and you kept me waiting."
"I kept you waiting because I—"
"I'm just saying if I wanted to date someone who needed eight hours to get ready before a date, I'd just date girls."
Mycroft's jaw drops. "Rude."
Greg grins and leans across the table to kiss Mycroft.
"Too bad I love you so damn much," he whispers.
"Uh huh," Mycroft says.
The waitress walks up to them while Greg is about to kiss him again, and she just politely clears her throat and smiles as Greg sits back on his side.
"Sorry to interrupt," she says. "I was just going to take down your drink orders, then you can have a few more minutes alone."
Both boys laugh and order separate coffees, then the girl disappears.
"So, why did you want to meet here of all place?" Mycroft asks once she's gone.
"You don't have to sound so disgusted," Greg says. "I wanted pancakes."
"I can make pancakes."
"Yeah, but then I'd have to go to your house smelling like this."
"It'd be far less embarrassing than having you smell like this in public."
Greg goes straight faced. "Why are you being so snippy?"
Mycroft sighs. "I've been thinking."
"Oh god," Greg says, burying his face in his hands. "Please don't tell me you've changed your mind. Please don't—"
Mycroft wants to kick himself for that choice of words. So, instead of letting Greg work himself up over this, he blurts out, "Greg I want to have sex."
Greg stops. His eyes open widely.
"With you, of course."
Mycroft thinks he broke Greg. The waitress brings their mugs of coffee, but the boys are just staring at each other.
"Ready to order?" she asks.
"Actually," Greg squeaks, his voice coming out overly excited. He clears his throat and tries again. "We just remembered we're late for something. Can we get the check?"
The girl looks confused. "You guys haven't even drank your coffee."
"That's okay. We're really late. Come on babe."
Mycroft follows Greg. He takes a ten out of his pocket and hands it to the girl.
"That should cover it, keep the change," Greg says.
"Greg—"
Greg grabs Mycroft's hand. "We're late, let's go."
Mycroft shakes his head and lets Greg drag him out of the diner.
"I have to take a shower," Greg says as soon as they get to his house. "Uhm…wait upstairs, in my bedroom. My mum won't be home for a while. And…" Greg turns back to Mycroft and glances quickly down his body. "Don't…don't take your clothes off."
Mycroft chuckles. "Greg," he says, placing both hands on Greg's cheeks. "Relax."
Greg nods. "Okay. Yeah. Relax."
"We have all the time in the world."
Greg nods again.
Mycroft leans in and kisses him, then lets Greg go to shower.
Mycroft wanders upstairs and simply sits on the edge of Greg's bed. He knows Greg will be at least ten minutes, which isn't a long time, but it seems like a ton of time when you're waiting for your boyfriend to hurry up so you can get on with the sexual part of the evening.
Mycroft checks Facebook, has half a mind to let the student body know that they're finally going to get off in each other's presence, but he doesn't.
He checks his email and even orders a football shirt Greg's wanted for months but never just buys himself.
Finally, Greg enters the room. His skin is a bit red and still steaming from the hot shower. He's wearing only a pair of black pants, which are unbearably sexy, and an expression that looks both nervous and excited. Mycroft's only seen this expression before when Greg's football team was playing for the city championship.
Greg slowly and silently steps over to the bed, then places a hand on Mycroft's cheek and leans in to kiss him slowly. Then, they waste no time. Mycroft pulls Greg down onto his lap and Greg pushes back until Mycroft's laying flat on the bed, his hands skimming up and down Greg's hot skin.
Their kissing seems different, that's something Mycroft notices. When they're making out in bed, it's fast and eager and almost too much, but now it's slow and sensual with hands all over and Greg tastes differently, he tastes like love and patience.
Mycroft's hands dip into the waistband of Greg's pants and Greg moans.
"No," Greg whispers as he pulls away. "You first."
Confused, Mycroft lets himself be rearranged until he's laying on Greg's pillows. But thankfully, Greg starts unbuttoning his shirt and removing his tie.
"Please wear something with less buttons sometimes," Greg says as he shifts to lick and suck at Mycroft's newly exposed neck.
Mycroft lightly pulls Greg's hair and just moans at the feeling, letting Greg undress him without any sort of offer to help.
Finally, his shirt is all the way undone, so he sits up to pull it off his shoulders. That's when Greg starts on his belt and jeans, and Mycroft doesn't help until he lifts his hips for Greg to get them off.
"Oh god," Greg whispers at the first site of Mycroft's not surprisingly erect cock.
"Is it…" Mycroft bashfully swallows. "Okay?"
Greg looks back up at Mycroft's face, then attacks with a deep kiss. He adjusts so he's between Mycroft's thighs, which is fine, then lays completely over Mycroft so their hips are lined up.
They aren't aligned perfectly, but it doesn't diminish the pleasure that rushes through Mycroft when Greg thrusts his hips down.
"Oh god, Greg…" Mycroft moans.
Greg does it again, this time sucking at Mycroft's neck again.
They get a steady rhythm going, their hips bucking together and matching each other on groans. Greg digs his fingers into Mycroft's hair and cradles his head as they kiss; Mycroft gets his hands all the way into Greg's underpants.
"Greg…" Mycroft whispers after a minute. "I…I want you too…"
"What?" Greg pants in his face. "What, anything tell me?"
"T-touch my…"
Greg leans down to suck on Mycroft's bottom lip, then he's gone in a flash. He leaves the bedroom for less than a minute and returns with a bottle of lube in his hands.
"What's that for?"
"It's for me to touch you with," Greg says. "Spread your legs."
Mycroft bites his lip. He wanted Greg to get him off, he's not sure he's ready for that.
"Greg, I—"
"No, no," Greg says. "It's not for that, not yet. I'll touch your…" Greg looks down at Mycroft's dick and licks his lips.
"Oh…" Mycroft sighs, relieved. "Well…why do you need that?"
Greg pours some onto his hand. "What do you touch yourself with?"
"With…" Mycroft blushes. "My hand?"
Greg laughs. "You don't use lube?"
Mycroft blushes harder. "Uhm…"
Greg leans over and kisses him again, and a second later Mycroft feels warm gel surrounding his cock and the slick slide of Greg's hand on him feels better than ever expected. Mycroft can't help throwing his head back and moaning loudly with pleasure.
"Oh my—"
"Good, right?"
"Oh my…"
Greg chuckles before kissing him again.
Greg's laying over Mycroft, his thighs on either side of one of Mycroft's, and he's got enough room to keep his hand moving comfortably between them. Mycroft sobs under him, practically whining with each pass of Greg's palm over the head of his cock, then Greg squeezes tighter when his hand slides back down, and Mycroft can't stop the noises he's making.
Greg's thrusting his hips against Mycroft's thigh, and Mycroft notices that he's going untouched in this whole thing. Mycroft's hands are of no use on Greg's back.
"Greg, I want…"
"What?"
Mycroft bites Greg's earlobe and says he wants to touch Greg, too. "I want to feel you…"
Greg moans loudly, then lets Mycroft go so he can shimmy out of his pants and settle fully between Mycroft's legs again. He pours a little bit more lube onto his hand, then takes both of their cocks between them in as tight a fist that he can make.
They slide together easily, just like each of their kisses, they're perfect like they're supposed to be. Like they're meant to fit together like this, perfectly with heat and sweat and sloppy kisses between moans and that feeling at the base of his spine is greater, almost like he can't control it and he can't control his hips thrusting upwards at Greg, his fingernails digging into Greg's back, and the embarrassing sounds he's making.
And suddenly he's ripped apart. His back arches harshly off the bed and his vision is white and he can hear his own pulse in his ears and he yells, loudly, drowning out Greg's own loud groan and there's wetness all over his stomach, it's hot and sticky and they're mixed together more intimately than just saliva and germs, it's them.
Greg finally lets go and carefully climbs off Mycroft to not smear his own stomach with their mess. He catches his breath while getting tissues from his bedside table, then dabs all over Mycroft to get him clean.
"Wow," is all Mycroft can think to say. "Just…wow."
Greg laughs. "Good?"
"Brilliant."
Greg tosses the tissues in the bin under his desk and returns to the bed with Mycroft. Mycroft opens his arms and pulls Greg in, winding around him tightly and feeling his heart rate slow to normal.
"I thought it was brilliant too," Greg says. "Unbelievably sexy, you have no idea."
"Was it everything you've hoped and dreamed?"
"Better," Greg says, kissing Mycroft's cheek. Three times, Greg's usual habit.
They fall silent after that, both of them feeling too relaxed to care that they skipped dinner or that Greg's mother will be home probably pretty soon. They don't want to part; they don't want to be any further away from each other than they need to be.
Greg speaks first. He usually does, he has a hard time staying quiet for long.
"I don't know what to say now."
Mycroft laughs. "I've actually rendered you speechless?"
Greg smiles. "I just fear that everything I want to say is going to seem stupid."
"Well, don't fear. I'm still willing to listen to anything stupid you have to say."
Greg chuckles. "Yeah, I know. You tolerate hearing about Doctor Who."
Mycroft kisses his head. "That I do, my love."
Greg tilts his head up to kiss Mycroft's lips. It's soft and slow and wonderful.
"How long until your mum gets home?" Mycroft whispers between kisses.
"About an hour."
"Perfect," Mycroft replies, then pushes Greg onto his back and climbs over him without their lips breaking contact.
Maybe, Mycroft thinks, getting a boyfriend wasn't so much trouble after all.
