Warning: Holmescest on the horizon, as well as spanking and other naughty things.
Sherlock stood, unbuckled his belt with quivering fingers, and lowered his trousers and boxers. Keeping his eyes on the floor and blushing despite his stoic expression, he started to lean forward, but Mycroft grabbed his wrists and pulled him down across his lap.
Incredible! That came to me a little too naturally.
He could feel his brother's erection pressing against his thigh, and marveled. How on earth had Sherlock ever agreed to this? Was he promised a new skull? His own mortuary?
I'm NOT going to over-analyze this. Sherlock's had this coming for a long time- even John Watson would agree. And Gregory? Watching this sulky meddler's arse turn pink must be on this year's Christmas list!
Time for an early present.
"Give him at least ten," Irene ordered. She perched on the edge of the tub to watch. "But you may give him more if he needs it."
Mycroft ran his palm slowly over those pale globes, feeling the faint tremors that Sherlock was trying to control. Just before raising his hand, he wondered which of them was undergoing the bigger mind-fuck right now.
Mycroft brought his hand down hard. Sherlock made a small, muffled noise and shuddered, but did not try to break away. The younger man braced his palms against the floor tiles and grunted as Mycroft administered ten blows that turned his buttocks from pink to a furious red. When he paused, Mycroft felt Sherlock's erection leaking fluid over his skin and, just to be perverse, jostled his thigh. Sherlock's hips bucked and a deep moan sounded behind his clenched teeth.
Irene approached, knelt in front of Sherlock, and lowered the scarf from his mouth. "What do you say?"
"I'm sorry," the younger man gasped.
"For what?"
Sherlock's pink tongue moistened his dry lips. "Lots of things."
Mycroft stilled. Is it possible? He understands that his life has been one long series of defiances and disasters?
"Very good answer." She patted his flushed cheek. With her other hand, she reached between his legs and cupped his balls, massaging them gently. As he arched into the touch, he blurted, "I'm sorry, Mycroft!"
Irene quickly undid Mycroft's gag. He spat it out and caressed Sherlock's back, trying to contain his emotion. He's never apologized to me for anything before!
"I forgive you, Sherlock. And because I love you, I'm going to give you more. You know you need it."
"Yes."
He raised his hand again, but before he could slam it down, footsteps approached a closed door that marked one of two entrances into the bathroom. As they drew near, heavy breathing and muttered curses became audible. Then Gregory Lestrade, his leather trousers bulging at the crotch, burst in. His pupils were dilated with obvious lust and he clutched a riding crop in his gloved fist.
"Greg-" Mycroft began, overjoyed. Lestrade silenced any further exclamation by striding over, grabbing his hair, and claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss that sent his own erection stabbing into Sherlock's belly.
"I know I said I'd see you in the morning, Myc, but the two of you- three of you- are so fucking hot. I can't take just watching any more."
Lestrade stared down at Sherlock, who was eyeing him with apprehension and lust. "What's this, eh? You getting off on an arse-beating?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Sherlock's shoulders, pulled him up and around so that he was sitting on Mycroft's lap instead of lying across it, and wrapped his fingers around the younger man's now-exposed cock. He looked quickly at Mycroft, silently asking permission. The elder Holmes nodded, too excited to speak.
Lestrade rubbed his thumb gently over the swollen head before starting to stroke in earnest. With his other hand, he ran the tip of the crop up and down Sherlock's white thighs. While Mycroft held him tightly, Sherlock began squirming on his lap and moaning wordlessly. The closer he got to release, the more frantic and mindless he became. He twisted at the waist, threw his arms around Mycroft's shoulders, and began biting his neck.
Then, suddenly and cruelly, Lestrade stopped.
"No, I don't think so. You're here to learn self control, not randomly get off." He pulled a cock ring out of his pocket and snapped it at the base of Sherlock's erection. The younger man pulled his lips from Mycroft's sweaty skin and wailed in frustration.
Irene laughed and slapped her leather-clad thigh. "God, Greg, the look on his face is priceless."
"That face will have lots of interesting looks before this is over. Thanks for warming my boys up for me. I'll take over from here."