Just a short chapter this time! This chapter stemmed from a fic written by my partner and I a short time ago. She has also used it for inspiration, becoming 'Touch' in her Holmescest serise. ( s/8694615/1/Touch ).
This story was originally written for a kink meme prompt, but my partner (Ourworstnightmare) and I decided to extend it. There will be more chapters to follow as we further explore the relationship. Warnings for dub-con, bondage, masturbation and incest.
It was the goddamn voice that had done it.
Mycroft had been at university for the better part of the year, barely seeing his brother in the interim; he had left behind an irritating, childish brat. Sherlock's voice had barely broken, for god's sake; over the past year, he had descended to a baritone from a rather rangy tenor. His limbs had been gangly, hair messy. He was spectacularly annoying, in general.
Mycroft had heard Sherlock's voice for the first time when the boy had told him to 'piss off out of the study'. Mycroft had dropped his umbrella – a present from Mummy – and turned quickly to see his baby brother standing in the doorway.
It was like encountering an entirely different person. The electrocuted mop of dark hair had become lustrous, black curls. Those gangly, awkward limbs had grown longer and nimble, and dear lord, the boy had cheekbones that protruded halfway out of his face.
He was somewhat concerned by the inadvertent response; the expanse of pale skin, the gorgeous form, that voice. His cock twitched excitably at the thought of him. No, he told himself, he's your brother. And barely sixteen.
Oh dear lord though, he was beautiful. Almost ethereal. He could imagine that sarcastic little mouth on him, murmuring obscenities in that lustrous baritone, plump lips skimming over his chest, his stomach, traversing downwards, the impossible image of those lips around his cock…
He bit his lip, gasping slightly, palming himself through his trousers. He needed to consider anything else, other than him. He pictured an attractive lecturer he had seen around Oxford, glasses, light hair, oh yes.
Leaning back against the headboard, he reached into his pants, stroking himself with in inelegant whine. Imagining a hot mouth around his cock, sliding up and squeezing and oh, he increased his speed, collapsing fully against the bed. He imagined riding the man's mouth, gripping soft dark hair, no, no blond hair, blond hair, for god's sake.
Too bloody late now; he was fucking his fist, so close, so absurdly close. He continued to thrust fast and hard, just as he liked it, and oh, Sherlock would like it that way too, he was certain of that. Mycroft repeatedly thrusting into that tight little arse, letting the boy keen with want, closing his fist around Sherlock's length, feeling the muscles constrict as the boy orgasmed hard into Mycroft's hand.
He gasped, eyes widening as he focused on the doorway opposite him.
He wasn't merely imagining Sherlock. As he stared forward, the real thing was leaning on his doorframe, face caught in a lingering expression of ecstasy as he watched his brother. Sherlock's trousers had tightened obviously around his groin, around a pressing erection.
That was it, past the point of no return. Mycroft came in his hand with a yell, spilling across the sheets.
"Out!" he yelled in the same breath, barely able to stand as he pointed wildly at the door. Sherlock looked at him, eyes wide and dark with lustful, wondrous thoughts.
"Out!" Mycroft repeated lividly, tugging at his trousers and making a sudden darting motion towards his younger brother. That was when Sherlock ran.
"I've wanted you so badly," Sherlock whined, looking over his bound and spread elder brother. "For so long," he continued, moving to the bed, straddling Mycroft's hips. Mycroft took a stuttering breath.
"And now? You're all mine".
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