Hello again. How are you all? Not dead, I hope. Enjoy this chapter, okay?
Mycroft stared at the DI.
"I thought… wrong?" he questioned, not sure what Gregory was getting at.
The older man nodded, his body swaying slightly.
"I've wanted you since you kidnapped me, um… Eighteen months ago, wasn't it?"
"A year and a half. You've wanted me for a year and a half? But why? It's not like I am even remotely attractive." Mycroft struggled to say the words. Either he was more drunk than he thought, or the DI had the superpower of making the older Holmes brother talk.
Greg sighed but didn't answer, running his fingers through his hair, spiking it up and causing it to gleam silver.
"Why, Gregory?" Mycroft pressed, finding he wanted to know the answer. "Please, just tell me why."
Greg's eyes opened wide. Mycroft Holmes had said please. He stared at the redhead, speechless for moment.
"Gregory! Answer me, for the love of cake!"
The DI stared at that one, then burst out with a fit of the giggles.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered, "I'm leaving if you don't answer me."
That's when he realized he couldn't leave, unless Greg moved. And the idiot was splayed out over the table, head turned towards Mycroft, still giggling.
"For, the love of, CAKE?" the silver-haired man managed to get out.
Mycroft realized then that Gregory wasn't laughing at him. No, instead Gregory was laughing at a silly expression that hadn't come out of his mouth since Sherlock was 10.
The government official stood for a second longer, then himself collapsed onto the table, laughing fit to be tied.
Eventually, they calmed. Luckily only the people close to them had hear the laughter, as it was pretty loud in the pub. They simply stared at each other, Greg lifting a hand to place it on Mycroft's cheek, Mycroft nuzzling into it. Finally the DI broke the silence.
"You ARE attractive."
Mycroft sat straight up in surprise, Greg's hand falling from his face.
"What?"
"You are an attractive man, Mycroft. I don't understand how you are unable to see that. You are the most beautiful man I've ever met."
Mycroft choked out, "Beautiful, me? You must be blind. That is impossible. I've never been anywhere near attractive, much less beautiful."
Greg placed his hand back on Mycroft's cheek, slowly stroking along the cheekbone with his thumb.
"Myc, you are everything beautiful and handsome to me. I don't care if you don't think so, you are. If this is about what Sherlock has said, you should know by now that he doesn't mean about half of what he does say. You are not fat, you are not ugly, you are perfect."
The British government sighed at these words, unconsciously leaning further into the hand on his face.
Gregory chuckled and slid both hands around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss and effectively silencing any other objections.
The snog started out chaste, just lips against lips, until Mycroft opened his and let his tongue play with the seam of Gregory's, which opened as well. The DI moaned, twisting his tongue around Mycroft's and doing his own sort of play.
Somehow, they got back to Lestrade's flat. The trip was entirely a blur, since Mycroft had a car come round and pick them up. This left hands free to explore, and attention was firmly focused on the other man.
Greg pushed Mycroft against the door as soon as it closed behind them, keeping their lips sealed. Mycroft moaned, making Gregory growl and push his hips against the redhead's. Greg's hands slipped inside the government official's waistband, groping his ass. And a fine ass it was, the DI noted as he slipped his fingers into the crack.
Mycroft broke off the kiss, panting hard. "Gregory," he mewled, pulling the silver fox closer to him.
Greg smiled and started traversing Mycroft's neck and shoulders, leaving love bites where he could as he pulled the British government to his bedroom. Mycroft couldn't keep still, writhing, trying to pull off different items of clothing, trying to reach Gregory's clothes. Finally, they made their way to the bedroom, ripping off trousers and shirts and pants along the way.
Greg pulled out the lube and condoms from the nightstand, playing with one of Mycroft's nipples. It turned out that his nipples were so much more sensitive than a woman's.
He dripped lube onto his digits, drawing a groan from the long, lean body beneath him. He grinned and slipped a single finger into Mycroft, just barely brushing his prostate. A second finger was soon added. Then a third. Each time they thrust in, they would just graze the sensitive gland, pushing Mycroft's hips off the bed in an inelegant motion.
"Oh fuck, I'm the first to make you lose control like this. You like this. You crave this. You want my thick cock inside you, making you come, long and fast and hard, don't you." Greg hissed into the ear of the squirming body. It elicited a deep moan and faster movements.
"Gregory, now, fuck me NOW, damn it!"
Lestrade smiled and proceeded to do as asked, slowly but surely working his cock into Mycroft's hole, drawing grunts and whimpers of pleasure from both of them.
Soon he was fully seated, snug against Mycroft's hips. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the snog-swollen lips.
"Ready, love?"
Mycroft sucked in a sharp breath at the endearment, but nodded. And Greg began to move.
Thrust met thrust as they learned each other's rhythm and tuned to it.
Before long, Lestrade could feel the edge drawing near. He began to fuck Mycroft in earnest, pulling the older Holmes with him. Mycroft came first, with a shout. He came all over both their chests, clenching tightly on Lestrade's cock. This pushed him over the cliff, and he yelled loudly, scaring his neighbors no doubt, shooting his come into Mycroft, thrusting furiously.
Eventually he pulled out, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's limp body and pulling him close.
"I'm a cuddler, get used to it."
Mycroft chuckled when Greg spoke those word into his back, spooning them together. They fit perfectly, he mused, in more ways than one.
They settled down to sleep, both satisfied and not ready for the morning after to come.