John's POV
By the time they get to the vacation house, he can practically see the exhaustion and nerves warring within Mycroft, so instead of trying something, he suggests that they go to bed. He gets the impression that was not the expected result of the evening, but there is no way he's going to sleep with someone who seems to be equally excited and dreading it.
Instead, he kisses the older man gently then asks which room is supposed to be his for the time being.
He could work through the nerves and exhaustion, he's done it before with partners, but those were partners that seemed a bit more sure of what they want or partners he's been with before.
So they go to bed in different rooms.
He's not surprised when he's the first one up in the morning. He normally is an early riser. A habit developed due to years in the military. After a quick shower in the en suite, he heads downstairs to go through the kitchen, finding all the things needed for a fry up.
By the time Mycroft enters thirty minutes later, he's almost got breakfast done, there is hot tea, and he set out some of the laxatives for if his patron wishes to take that route or not.
"Good morning," he murmurs, turning to glances at the auburn haired man with a warm smile.
"Good morning John," his patron replies, eyeing all the food skeptically.
"If you'd like to take a seat, I've almost got everything done," he suggests, motioning to the small table by the window.
Nodding, Mycroft makes himself a cuppa before settling on the seat furthest from and facing him.
It's quiet as he divides out the food between two plates, one for each of them before carrying them over to the table. He then fetches his mug, settling in the seat corner wise, rather than across.
Rather than take the first bite for himself, he selects a piece of sausage since he's seen Mycroft eat those in the past, and offers it to his patron with an easy smile, curious to see if the older man will go with the flow or not.
Taking the morsel to chew, the older man selects a bite and almost hesitantly offers it to him.
Still smiling, he takes it, humming happily that his idea seems to be working.
They spend several minutes taking their time feeding each other. Occasionally he will touch the older man's hand or arm, light little caresses. Affectionate gestures.
By the time they are done eating, it seems that Mycroft has finally relaxed. He's not nearly as tense as he was the previous evening, or even when they first sat down to eat.
"Thank you for the delicious breakfast," his patron tells him quietly, watching him with a thoughtful expression.
"You're welcome." He replies as he nods once. "Thank you for inviting me and having such a well stocked kitchen for me to work with."
Mycroft's expression shifts to something a bit warmer, affectionate even.
A moment later it fades to something serious, "I noticed the items you left on the counter," the older man motions the small pile of laxatives.
He nods, "I didn't know if you had supplies, but wanted to let you know if you didn't there were options."
Neither of them speak for a while, instead they sit there drinking tea.
"I had bought supplies based on items mentioned in the original contract," Mycroft comments, light skin turning pink.
"Fore planned can be a good thing," he comments with an almost playful smile, "those weren't the only supplies brought with."
Blinking at him, he's moderately certain that the older man turns an even darker shade of pink based on how his freckles stand out.
Several more minutes are spent with them sitting there, he even gets up to get them new cups of tea.
"There's no pressure," he tells his patron as he grabs their plates and puts them in sink. For some reason he's on the nervous side. Though he couldn't say why.
"Are you certain you are amenable to either sort of relationship?" Mycroft asks him softly.
He nods once, sharply, "Yeah. I'm not uncomfortable with having sex with a bloke on either side of it."
That almost seems to confuse his patron, which considering the older man's ability to read most people's motives and reasoning in a look, he can understand that. Though truthfully, he doesn't know what the problem is, so that is probably interfering with it too.
He's better with actions than words, so he walks over to where Mycroft is sitting, cups the older man's face between his hands and kissing him long and softly. Teasing little licks and lightly nibbling on his lip. Their tongues touching and curling, slowly building up heat.
"Oh," the auburn haired man murmurs against his lips when they finally stop kissing.
"Yeah," he agrees, nuzzling the curve of his soon to be lover's jaw.
"I believe I will take juice, rather than tea," Mycroft comments, turning his head so their lips meet once more.
Grinning into the kissing, he replies, "Juice can be good."
Neither of them move however, instead they just keep kissing. Slow and explorative kisses that are more about learning what the other enjoys than anything else.
He doesn't know long they stay like that. What he does know is when they finally stop, Mycroft's eyes are almost shut and so dark he can barely see the color, his lips parted as if trying to catch his breath. That blush seems to have mostly faded. Instead the older man's peach skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
It's not the first time he's got the feeling that his patron tends to avoid physical contact. It is the first time he's wonder if Mycroft has ever went to bed with someone just to have sex with them. Or if the older man has ever dated, since a lot of the actions between them could be considered date like.
Either way, he's going to make sure that it's a pleasant event for both of them.
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