"Oh fuck," was all Gregory could say as he flew out of bed and to his closet, pulling out trousers and a shirt. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck hell I am so fucked." His shift had started at 7:30, meaning he was 2 and a half hours late. Maybe he shoud just call in sick.

Mycroft still sat in bed, staring at the clock. He had overslept? Don't be silly, his brain chided, you never oversleep. And yet here I am, 3 hours late for a meeting, still in bed, he thought sardonically, burying his head in his hands. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it and read the short text.

Meeting over. Deal accepted. Both schedules cleared. –A

Mycroft let out the breath he'd been holding, letting himself slump. "Gregory," he called.

"Yes?" the answer came from the next room. Mycroft got dressed and walked through the door, stopping when a curious sight greeted him.

Lestrade was making breakfast. Pancakes. A time-taking process. At Mycroft's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "Anthea texted me. How'd she get my number?"

Mycroft shrugged, sniffing the air. There was another scent, a lovely one. The smell of frying meat.

He let out a long moan of approval. "Bacon," he whispered reverently, making Lestrade laugh.

"What is so funny? Bacon is very good. An excellent breakfast choice," Mycroft questioned, cracking Greg up more.

Eventually he calmed enough to choke out, "I don't even know. Just so funny!"

Mycroft began chuckling too, getting into it and bringing out his full-blown belly laugh. This, of course, set Gregory off again. Both leaned against the counter for support, trying to breathe between giggles.

This went on until the timer on the oven beeped, jerking Greg out of the giggle fest. Still laughing silently and out of breath, he grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the pan of bacon, sizzling and crispy.

After draining the grease and placing it in the fridge for later, he set the pan down. Mycroft of course had to steal a piece, pulling it to bits then placing each one in his mouth. Each new bite produced a satisfied moan, making Gregory harden as he tried to continue making breakfast. Eventually though he couldn't stand it and spun around, grabbing Mycroft's head and pulling their lips together.

Mycroft gasped in surprise, and Lestrade took advantage of the opened lips. He explored, tucking his tongue into all the corners and crevices of the sweet mouth he had at his disposal. One hand traveled down to the redhead's chest, pushing him back against the table and laying him out on it.

Greg pulled back, stripping off his shirt and trousers before those pink lips demanded him back. He went with a groan, snogging the man underneath him with force, grinning when the long body started writhing against the wooden surface.

"Gregory, please," Mycroft mewled, trying to push their hips together. Lestrade only let it happen for a moment, before pulling his away.

"Not yet, you little cock slut."

That elicited a whine and Mycroft's eyes dilated even more.

Gregory continued, "Oh, I see, you like being called names. You like it when I talk dirty to you, when I use you like you've never been used before, hard and fast and rough. You want it like that, don't you."

The only answer he got was a series of moans as he spoke. Licking the ear he'd been whispering into, Lestrade added, "As you wish," and divested Mycroft of his clothes. He flipped him over, and growled, "Stay," in his ear before quickly running into the bedroom to grab the condoms and lube. He groaned when he saw they had crushed the bottle during their shenanigans last night. Then an idea popped into his head and he grinned. Perfect.

Returning to the kitchen, he pulled out what they would use instead of lubricant. The fresh bacon grease was cool enough so he set the bowl next to the man who was still laying, completely still on the table.

"Mycroft darling, I believe you'll enjoy this." Greg nearly purred. He dipped a few fingers into the still-warm grease and pressed them against Mycroft's hole. A groan came, making Greg smile bigger as his fingers slipped inside.

"What…Oh fucking hell, is that bacon?" Mycroft murmured, barely able to speak coherently from the feel of the fingers resting inside him, now pressing against his prostate, now moving in and out in timed thrusts. Gregory smiled at the loss of control, understanding he meant the smell.

"Don't speak. The only things I want to hear out that perfect mouth is the sounds of pleasure. No words."

Immediately Mycroft closed his mouth, then opened it again as a third and fourth finger joined in the fun. He was panting, trying to push back with his hips, wanting more friction, more stimulation, more… just more. He needed Gregory's cock in his arse. But he couldn't speak, so he expressed that need in other ways.

"Fuck, Myc." Greg groaned as the British government wiggled his hips and pushed back, his hole stretched and gaping, asking for something to fill it. Something other than his fingers. Lestrade had planned a whole seduction, but at this point, it was useless. Neither of them would hold out for much longer. He went for a condom, but Mycroft's voice stopped him.

"No condom. I want to feel you. I'm clean. You're clean. Fuck me."

The DI groaned and wrapped his greasy hand around his needy cock, stroking it a few times. Then he pushed it in slowly, letting Mycroft adjust. Soon, though, Mycroft had had enough of that. He made his readiness known, writhing underneath Gregory's body. This created a monster apparently. The silver fox growled and canted his hips, slamming them into Mycroft's, making sure to hit the prostate with each thrust. Soon Mycroft was shouting Lestrade's name as he came, harder than he'd ever done before. The man himself grinned evilly and leaned down, silencing that mouth with his own, just before he came as well, Mycroft's muscles clenching tightly around him, milking every last drop.

Panting, Greg pulled out, leaning his forehead against the redhead's. Both their eyes were shut tight, not wanting to open them and come to reality too quickly. Unfortunately reality intruded on their moment, Mycroft's phone buzzing in his trousers pocket. He groaned and Lestrade slowly stood, using the table for support as he walked to where the trousers had fallen and pulled out the Blackberry. He tossed it to Mycroft who checked the caller ID. It was the PM. He answered with an annoyed "hello?"

Greg got back to the pancakes as Mycroft walked away, into the bedroom. It didn't bother him that he couldn't listen in. He knew it was most likely secret and one more person knowing about it would increase the chance of it getting leaked. Not that Lestrade would let it slip purposely, but he had only a certain amount of control on what he said.

Soon Mycroft came back, fully dressed and put together. HE sat and sighed. Greg turned with a plate of pancakes and put it down in front of the older Holmes.

"Eat, then you can leave. Don't eat, and I won't let you leave until you do."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "And how would you do that, Gregory dear?"

Lestrade showed his teeth in a predatory smile, making Mycroft shudder. He caught the flash of desire before it was masked htough. Walking around the table, he leaned down and whispered into Mycroft's ear, "Guess, Mycroft darling." With that, he licked a long, slow strip up the slender neck of his lover, making both of them moan.

"I want to mark you. I want everyone to know you are mine. I want everyone who looks at you to know what you've been doing and that you're completely off-limits." Mycroft glanced back, startled. The words slowly processed. He hesitated, then made a decision and nodded his assent. Immediately he was assaulted, a warm, wet mouth latching onto the side of his throat and sucking hard. Teeth bit, not deep enough to break the skin, but deep enough to bruise and hard enough to send a jolt of pain through his body. Mycroft yelped, then whimpered as a skilled tongue licked the pain away. That tongue continued up his neck until it curled into the shell of his ear then retreated as a single whispered command came. "Eat."

Mycroft didn't even realize he had cut a piece of pancake until it was in his mouth. "Mmf," came out as he made a shocked face. Lestrade leered, leaning back against the counter in his original position.

Soon, too soon in both their opinions, Mycroft's assistant was at the door, knocking while staring at her phone, also a Blackberry. Mycroft reluctantly pulled it open, only to have it slam shut on Anthea's startled face as he was pushed back against it and a hot mouth invaded his.

They snogged for quite a while before the knocking returned, this time forceful and meaningful.

"Mycroft, you have exactly 1 hour and 3 seconds before the government implodes. Which means we need to go. Now."

The two lovers pulled away, Mycroft sighing, Lestrade pouting. After another kiss, this one a mere brush of lips, Greg pulled the door open and pushed Mycroft out.

"See you tonight?"

Mycroft smiled. "Hopefully, we'll see. Sometimes I don't come out of my office for days on end in this job."

Greg grinned, then smirked. "It's fine if you stay in your office, but only if I'm allowed in too. I'd like to come," he quirked an eyebrow suggestively at the last statement. Then the DI sighed, "Go on with you. Get. I'll see you later, Mycroft darling."

Mycroft was already walking away, umbrella firmly in hand. He turned his head and threw a sentence over his shoulder. "I expect that promise to be followed up, Gregory dear."

Okay…. Well that chapter was a bit longer than intended. I expected it to only be about 500-600 words. Instead, I got 1668 words of pure smut, with slight fluff. Crikey, my mind needs to leave the gutter at some point in my life. Not today, though!

So… I'm going to start bribing readers to review. Office sex sound good? Lestrade's or Mycroft's? Maybe some fun times at 221B? Tell me ideas! Sometimes all it takes is five words and I'll write 4 or 5 chapters at once. As evidenced by today. I wrote four chapters, posted three of them at 1 in the morning, and this one at almost 12, thanks to a new reviewer.

Loves anyways