Greg laughed loudly as they both tumbled from the bar, grabbing Mycroft's hands and pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, tugging him tight against his own body.
Mycroft gasped, but soon relaxed and placed his palms over Greg's studded shoulders.
"Hello." He said quietly, as he realised just how close they were to each other.
"Hello." Greg replied, as he ever so slowly, ever so gently, leaned up and pressed his lips to Mycroft's.
It was like the world around them had disappeared. It was just the two of them, him and Gregory inside their own little bubble of bliss, with only the musky scent of his skin, the feel of his leather jacket against his fingertips, and the touch of his soft, warm lips occupying Mycroft's mind. The kiss soon grew passionate, with Greg's tongue swiping along Mycroft's lower lip, begging entrance, which was eagerly granted with a deep moan. Mycroft threaded his fingers up into Greg's thick, dark hair, tugging experimentally, eliciting a veritable growl from his partner.
Only when their lungs burned for air did they break away, and Mycroft could do nothing more than gaze into Greg's eyes, wondering how on Earth he became so lucky.
"So, d'you wanna go back to mine?" Greg asked, his thumb tracing circles on Mycroft's waist.
"I think that would be most satisfactory." He replied breathlessly, causing Greg to let out an equally breathless laugh.
"What?" Mycroft asked, the edges of insecurity beginning to creep in.
"Nothing, just...most satisfactory? I love the way you speak."
"Ah, yes, perhaps I am a little more varied in my vocabulary, and perhaps my dialect is a little more sophisticated, but you shouldn't let it worry you, Gregory."
"Ooh, talk dirty to me." Greg said, biting his lip and groaning obscenely.
"Stop it." Mycroft said with a scowl.
"Why should I? This is what you do to me, Mycroft Holmes." He whispered, as he shamelessly ground his obvious arousal against Mycroft's thigh.
"Gregory, you must desist; we are public." He hissed, at least trying to sound like he wanted him to stop.
"Oh, alright, spoilsport." Greg relented, stepping back from the flustered man. "Besides, I don't want anyone else to see you all hot and bothered like this apart from me." He added into Mycroft's ear.
And with that completely disarming comment, Greg walked to the edge of the pavement and hailed a cab, as naturally as if he wasn't sporting a raging hard-on.
They travelled in the back of the cab in uncomfortable silence. Not because of any awkward reservations, no, but because of the very palpable tension between them, and the increasingly unbearable way that Mycroft's erection strained against his suit trousers.
That is why, as soon as Greg had unlocked the door to his flat, they practically dove for each other, grabbing at clothes and hair and limbs, lips crushing together in a hard, desperate frenzy.
Mycroft found himself being shoved against the nearest wall, Greg's hands reaching up to push his suit jacket down his shoulders. He could only return the favour, pulling Greg's leather jacket from his broad frame.
"Yes." Greg grunted, as he grasped the back of Mycroft's neck and continued to kiss him ferociously.
Mycroft returned the kiss with equal fervour, their tongues wrestling for dominance, which he eventually gave over to his partner when he began to grind his hips against his.
Mycroft let out a long keening sound, the sensations almost becoming too much for his over-heated, over-sensitised body.
"God, Mycroft." Greg moaned into the side of his long neck, as he began placing open-mouthed kisses over the pale expanse of unmarked skin.
"Gregory!" Mycroft said, as Greg bit sharply into his freckled neck, then ran his tongue over the bright bruise that began to form.
"Like that?" Greg asked, as his lips moved lower.
"A-ah!" Mycroft gasped out, as another red mark was placed upon his collarbone. Greg was not wrong, he certainly liked it, but it was all becoming a little too much. Maybe they could take things a little slower? I'm sure Gregory wouldn't mind. He had remembered to mention that he was a virgin, yes?
And then he was overwhelmed. The heat. The closeness. The insistent way in which Gregory was now undoing his trousers and- "No!" Mycroft pushed Greg away and held him at arms' length, with a vice like grip on his biceps.
Greg moved back from Mycroft quickly, aware of giving the man his personal space. "I'm sorry, I got carried away. Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed; I forget not everyone's a biter." He apologised rapidly, his head bowed.
Mycroft took a few deep breaths, gathering himself. "No, it's, it's not that." He assured, not wanting to discourage him.
"Then what's wrong?" Greg asked, appearing to be genuinely concerned.
"I..." Mycroft began, unsure of how to explain himself. "I have never...I have never done this before." He admitted, gesturing between the two of them.
"Oh." Greg said, glancing at Mycroft with evident surprise. "Well, I suppose having sex with a guy isn't too different than with a woman. Tab A still goes into Slot B and all that, so-" Greg was cut off by the severe shaking of Mycroft's head.
"No, no. I mean... I have never done...anything, before." He confessed, focussing his eyes on the floor, unable to look up and see Gregory no doubt laughing at his pathetic lack of sexual experience, or the disgust that was also no doubt present upon learning of his predicament.
"Oh...Mycroft."
Mycroft looked back up at Greg, taken aback by the gentle tone of his voice.
Greg reached out, and, carefully, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal, he held Mycroft's hands in his. "You should have...should've said something, Mycroft."
"I did not want to seem undesirable. Inexperience is surely a negative quality in a sexual partner, I..." He began, but was silenced my the firm press of Greg's lips upon his.
He moved away after a moment, making sure to convey how wrong Mycroft was in his next words. "Undesirable? Being a virgin isn't going to make you undesirable, Mycroft. It is unbelievably desirable, to know that I'm your first. The first to touch you...the first to claim you... The first to make you scream when you come, and all because of me." He said, his voice pitched low and rough.
Mycroft whimpered, Greg's words affecting him rather a lot.
"But not tonight." Greg said, moving away from Mycroft again.
Mycroft frowned and pulled Greg back towards him. "Why not?" He asked petulantly.
"Because anybody's first time needs to be special, not just some...quick shag with a guy you barely know." Greg explained, leading Mycroft towards his sofa. They sat down, hands still joined together.
"I do not barely know you. You barely know me." Mycroft clarified.
"Oh yeah?" Greg laughed, that incredulous grin lighting up his face once again. "What do you know about me?"
"I know you are Gregory Emile Lestrade, you are twenty-two years old, you are English, but your...father, is French, and he runs a quaint little restaurant around Camden Lock. I also know you are the youngest brother of three, and have recently ended a long-term relationship with a girlfriend who cheated on you...four times?"
Greg simply sat there, staring at the man who had just listed off his life as though he had known him for years. "How did you..." He questioned, trailing off.
"Observation. Family photos, take-away boxes and the like." Mycroft answered plainly, leaving it at that.
"Right. And it was three times, for the record." Greg defended.
Mycroft only gave him a look, and said, "We both know it was four."
Greg shuffled back on the sofa, crossing his legs. "Alright, there's no need to point it out."
"My apologies. I hadn't realised it was still a sore subject."
"It's alright. She was a bitch. But, back to you." He squeezed Mycroft's hands, making sure he had his full attention. "I... How should I say this without sounding like a total idiot? Look, I may have had a few to drink, and yeah, I was going home tonight hoping for a one night stand with a seriously hot bloke I met at a bar, but I really like you, Mycroft. I mean, I don't just find you ridiculously attractive, but you're interesting as well, and now that I know you've never... I would really like to get to know you a little better. And not in that sense." He added, at Mycroft's small, mischievous smile. "I don't just want a slutty fling with you anymore, I want to make it special for you, because... even though I barely know you, I want to know you." He waited for Mycroft to respond, looking at him hopefully.
"That is to say..." Mycroft began, trying to figure out the meaning of Greg's words, and then decide if that is what he wanted too. "You would like...what I would like."
"If that makes sense. I really would like to get to get to know you, Mycroft; do things properly." Greg said.
"And I you." Mycroft agreed. He had no idea how this had changed from a one night stand to the tender beginnings of a fledgling relationship, but he was desperately glad that it had. "I should...here." He said, picking up his crumpled suit jacket from where it lay on the floor, and retrieved a card from one of the inner pockets. On it was simply his name and a number; no title, no job description, just the number.
"Ooh, you are mysterious." Greg said, taking the card and pocketing it in his tight black jeans. "Let me give you mine, just a sec." He hopped up and made his way over to the small kitchen area that was adjoined to his living room, and took out some paper and a pen, jotting down his phone number. "There you go." He handed over the paper to Mycroft, who also pocketed it in his trousers.
"Well." Mycroft said, relief leaving him fairly silenced.
"Well." Greg repeated, a broad grin back on his face. "Seeing as we're no longer going to have sex, and it is," He checked his watch, "around half past midnight, would you like me to call a cab, or would you rather stay the night?" He asked kindly.
"That won't be necessary, thank you. I have a driver." Mycroft replied.
"Of course you do." Greg said, shaking his head in disbelief. Only he could manage to pull the richest, poshest guy there, naturally the complete background-opposite to himself. "When can I see you again?" He asked, trying not to sound like a fucking romcom cliché.
"I am afraid I cannot tell you for certain, Gregory. I have a rather busy schedule, what with my work, and my brother." He said with a grimace.
"You have a brother? Hey, that's something we have in common, except I have two. How old is he?" Greg asked.
"Twelve. Sherlock is...difficult, you see, and so my spare time is mostly consumed by looking after him and convincing his headmaster not to expel him yet again."
"Ah, another creative name!" Greg exclaimed, childish glee evident in his expression.
"Yes, quite." Mycroft said, feeling a fondness for that youthful streak in Gregory's personality. "I'm sure you will meet him soon enough, and then you will not be in such an agreeable mood." He warned.
"Come on, he can't be that bad! He's not a little psychopath or anything, no worries."
"No, but he has recently taken to labelling himself as a high functioning sociopath." Mycroft mused.
"So he's a bit of an odd one. He'll love me, all kids love me." Greg promised with a charming smile.
"Sherlock is not 'all kids.'" Mycroft said, before letting out an unexpected yawn. "Hm, it is getting rather late, perhaps I should head home." He quickly texted his driver, Greg presumed, then glanced back up with a smile. "I had a wonderful time, Gregory, even if I was painfully awkward."
"Nah, you were adorable." Greg replied.
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Adorable? Me? I fear you are mistaken." He insisted.
"Not at all. You were so sure of yourself at the bar, but as soon as I started paying you compliments you got all flustered and it. Was. Adorable. I just can't believe you're so unused to the attention is all."
"It is one of life's great mysteries, and one for which the answer is forever unknown. Ah, Frederick has arrived." He said, as his phone vibrated.
"That was quick." Greg commented, clearly impressed.
"We are efficient." Mycroft replied.
They made their way out of the door to Greg's flat, and stood on the front steps for a moment to say their goodbyes.
"I really want to see you again." Greg said, as he placed his arms around Mycroft's waist. "Promise me you'll find time. Even with your busy schedule." He said cheekily.
"I shall endeavour to, Gregory." Mycroft answered, as he leaned down to initiate a sweet, chaste, goodbye kiss.
Greg hummed into the kiss, and squeezed his arms around Mycroft's tall frame. "Alright. Goodbye, Mycroft." He finally let go of the younger man, allowing him to walk down to the black car idling by the curb.
"Until next time." Mycroft said, before he climbed into his awaiting vehicle.
Mycroft smiled to himself the entire journey home, only ceasing to look like a love-sick puppy when he fell into a peaceful slumber, and all thoughts of Gregory Lestrade chased him into his dreams.
Greg was much the same, his infectious, wistful grin not leaving his face until he too had fallen asleep, the enigmatic man he had met at the bar the subject of his mind's unconscious wanderings.