Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Enjoy!

In hindsight, he realized he should have paused before going into the pub. Paused to take a moment to collect himself, to formulate a plan, to contemplate all possible outcomes of the evening before stepping inside to meet Greg head-on. That way, he possibly (only possibly, mind you) would have been prepared for what happened. In all fairness though, even if he had taken that brief moment of reflection, his brain would never have been able to anticipate this. Because really, who kissed 'hello, good to see you, mate' like that on a first date? Troubling. This was all very troubling. Yes, it was an extremely troubling press of flesh on flesh, slow and deliberate, all rub and fire, that made him want to say bugger-all to dinner and yes to everything that kiss insinuated. It was just one little kiss. How in the bloody hell could he have expected this?

Greg's lips were warm and soft and Mycroft felt a cool rush of air prick his skin as Greg pulled back and smiled. "Hi."

Mycroft felt the heat in his cheeks clear to his toes. "Hi." He sort of collapsed in his chair with as much composure as he could muster, unable to look away. Greg's eyes were bright and sparkling and he thought briefly that if he spent the whole evening staring into them, it would not be an evening wasted.

Greg sipped his pint and broke the silence. "I realize that was a little forward, but I don't care," he said mildly. "I've been waiting to kiss you again."

"Yes, well, I admit I wasn't expecting that, but I'm rather glad you did." He exhaled, letting the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding escape.

Greg raised his pint. "Here's to the unexpected, then."

Mycroft took the waiting glass in front of him and clinked it with Greg's. "The unexpected."

"So," Greg began, "tell me about Mycroft Holmes."

It was impossible for either of them to know that one small statement would lead into a long and sometimes heated introspection of both their lives. Over the course of three hours, they ate and drank, and Mycroft felt the carefully crafted layers of his persona fall away with ease. Every topic from cricket to Coronation Street was covered, with a dash of politics and royal gossip thrown in for good measure. They agreed; they disagreed. Then someone would bat an eyelash or smile softly and then they would agree to disagree. They were several pints in when the conversation strayed into more dangerous territory.

"You said you had never asked a man on a date before. Have you ever been with a man? Sexually?" Greg asked.

Mycroft blinked twice to focus on Greg's face. He sat quietly, his expression curious, but attentive. Slow panic began flood Mycroft's brain. How did he even answer that? How much of the truth was acceptable? Yes, I have, but it was a horrible, embarrassing experience. One I never wished to repeat again, except I did, and it was still just as disappointing, so I sort of gave up on the whole blasted thing. How does that translate?

"Mycroft?"

"Er-yes," he stammered, startled back to reality. "Oh, the question. Um, yes. Yes, I have."

Greg nodded. "Okay. Steady boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

The air was slowly being squeezed from his lungs. Oh, God. Did we really have to cover this kind of ground? Can't we just skip to the part where he kisses me again?

"No," he managed to murmur. "Never."

"What about-?"

"Greg," Mycroft interrupted, "when I said before my experience in the area is lacking, I meant it." He swallowed nervously, looking at his hands. "I-I-Yes, I've been with a man before. Women, too. But," he looked back to Greg, "not often. A few times, if that."

"I see," Greg replied. There was a softness to his eyes and the set of his smile, so endearing, and so understanding. He continued, feeling a little more confident under Greg's gaze.

"It was a long time ago, and frankly, none of it was very appealing. So, I sort of pushed all that aside. I didn't seem to have a need or an inclination for it, so it wasn't something I missed."

Greg's eyebrow rose. "Do you have any interest in sex at all? Because if not, one of us is going to be very bored."

"Well, of course I do. I-I mean…I-Well, of course. I asked, I mean…I wanted….Dinner!" Mycroft spluttered.

Greg held up his hands and chuckled. "Okay, okay. Just making sure I'm not getting the wrong idea. You tell me you've not really been interested in sex, but when I kiss you-yeah, not what I'm getting."

"I'm not trying to be confusing, it's just…I'm not used to the type of feelings I'm currently having."

Greg's mouth quirked. "And what kinds of feelings would those be?"

Mycroft felt himself blush. "Explicit ones."

One of Greg's fingers reached out and ran down along the length of his hand. "Those are fun. Let's see if we can work our way to outright filth." His mouth tilted up into a sly, feline smile.

Mycroft shuddered. How in the world did the man make the touch of a single finger so damn predatory? And hot? How could he make him want this when he didn't even know what 'this' is?

"What's changed your mind, then? About sex? Dating?" Greg asked, still stroking his hand.

He forced his eyes from Greg's finer to his eyes. "You."

"Really?"

Mycroft nodded. "Yes."

Greg leaned in slowly, and Mycroft swore he could feel the temperature rise exponentially with each inch Greg moved closer. "Hmmm. That's a lot to live up to. I hope you'll find me…satisfactory in that capacity. When we get to that. Of course."

"Get to that?" Mycroft hoped that didn't sound as squeaky as he thought.

"The sex," Greg confirmed. "Because-" the finger stroked his hand again, "we will. In time. I'm not in a hurry."

"You're-you're not?" Mycroft licked dry lips.

Greg pursed his lips and shook his head. "Not at all." His eyes flashed and he smiled wide, revealing that row of strong, white teeth, and when he spoke again, it rumbled over Mycroft like a wave. "I think you're something that needs…focus. Attention. I think somewhere underneath-" Suddenly, those fingers were grasping his wrist, pulling him almost across the table, and Mycroft couldn't tear his gaze from Greg's eyes, fierce and liquid. "-underneath it all you've got one small spark. One little ember and all it needs is someone to stoke the fire-" He was close, so close, their mouths almost touching. "-and make you burn."

The brush of Greg's lips was sizzling. Hot and wet and full of promise. His fingers curled into Mycroft's sleeve, holding him there for a moment before he let go. Mycroft gasped for a breath.

"If you keep looking at me like that, waiting will no longer be an option. I have some willpower, but I'm no saint, Mycroft."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled. "It's just-I, well…Jesus."

Greg smiled and stood. "Let's take a walk."

"Brilliant idea."

The night was clear and cool and they walked from the pub through the park and Mycroft felt no trepidation in reaching for Greg's hand. Greg latched on with a squeeze and they strolled, hand in hand, nowhere particular in mind. They could have walked to Wales and back and Mycroft wouldn't have minded a bit.

"You've asked me about my experience. Perhaps I should inquire about yours?" Mycroft asked lightly.

Greg flashed him a cheeky smile as they walked toward a long stone tunnel. "I have more experience than you do." He squeezed Mycroft's hand again and gave him a playful nudge of the shoulder.

Mycroft smiled. "Sherlock's probably got more experience than I have." He frowned sternly at Greg. "And if you tell him I said that, I will have you permanently reassigned to traffic duty somewhere backward and unpleasant. Like Newcastle."

They passed just under the edge of the tunnel and Greg laughed. "Your secret is safe with me." He stopped suddenly, turning and pressing Mycroft against the cold stone of the tunnel wall. Moonlight cast shadows over Greg's face, a face now looking very serious. "You are safe with me."

Safe. How ironic that the notion of safety would be foreign to him, Mycroft Holmes, a man whose very existence was built on the concept. But this was different. This was safety born of the soul, not the body. Because it was his soul and all the corners of his heart that were in danger. And here was the too-handsome DI pledging to keep it safe. How was he ever supposed to resist this?

"You know that, don't you? Because, despite what you've heard, and I'm sure you've heard quite a bit, I don't do casual." His hand came up to cup Mycroft's cheek, even as his lower half pressed against him. "You are safe with me."

"Yes." It was a whisper.

Greg's eyes darted over his face, wide with excitement and apprehension. There was a slight tremor to his body as he held Mycroft close. He gave a nervous laugh. "I'm very sorry," he sniffed. "I thought I would have more control." His words were shaky under the force of the confession, his breath falling across Mycroft's face in short, hot bursts. "But I want you. Badly." The intensity in Greg's eyes was as steely as his hands. "I-You just need to know that. I don't want it to scare you."

All he could do was swallow and nod.

"I'm going to kiss you now."

He may have said something that sounded like 'yes', he really didn't know and couldn't be sure, couldn't be sure of anything except Greg's mouth descending on his. It was a loud, wet press of lips and tongue, sliding across one another in a searing pass of delicious friction that Mycroft felt in his bones. His eyes slammed shut and he opened wide, swallowing Greg's low groan of approval.

Greg's tongue was doing wicked things to his mouth, teasing and tasting him, finding every hollow and torturing it with a wet, pointed heat. He moaned as Greg pulled back and sucked his lower lip between his teeth, the soft nibble making him gasp. He could feel Greg's smile against his mouth as he moved to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw line to his ear. Greg's hands began to move of their own accord, seeking and feeling, searching for bare skin. Mycroft attempted to put his arms around Greg's waist, but he was batted away as Greg grabbed two handfuls of shirt, pulling it free of his jeans, running the flat of his hands up underneath the shirt.

The sudden contact was electric as Greg's hot (God, everything about him was hot, he was a one-man furnace) hands made their way up, gliding over skin and muscle. It was so good, the feel of Greg's mouth, his hands, his body. So good pressed against him in a tantalizing, aching way and Mycroft felt his erection twitch with start. Greg must have felt it too, because he groaned into Mycroft's mouth and rocked his hips forward, grinding them together.

Stars danced in front of his eyes and he threw his head back, letting the feeling wash over him. Greg's mouth left his ear and moved to the column of his neck, licking and biting in earnest.

"Greg!" he panted as the DI clamped down on a particularly sensitive spot and sucked. He felt Greg's fingers pass over his nipples with a light scratch and he bit his lip to keep from screaming. It was never like this. Nothing in his past ever hinted that this much pleasure was even possible. And this was just foreplay. What would the actual sex be like? Greg moving over him, inside him. That thought alone nearly undid him. His hands latched onto Greg's hips and he bucked into them, causing Greg's mouth to pop free of his neck.

"God, Mycroft!" he growled, pushing into increase the pressure. He dropped his forehead to Mycroft's peering into his eyes, those whisky-colored eyes hazy with desire. "Do you have any idea how much I want you?"

"It's crossed my mind," he said breathlessly.

Greg barked out a rough laugh. "I shouldn't have started this."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't finish it."

Mycroft swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, but Greg kissed him quiet.

"No," he said firmly. "I meant it. Slow." His voice sounded hollow, as if it pained him to speak. "I said we would take this slow. Even if it kills me." The half-hearted smile touched Mycroft somewhere deep within his heart as Greg pulled back, his eyes raking over Mycroft.

It was all a jumble in his head, and Mycroft couldn't make heads or tails of it. His brow furrowed. "Greg?"

Greg's answer was to grab Mycroft's hand and press it roughly to his crotch. He felt the hard bulge there, large and insistent. Greg hissed and closed his eyes as Mycroft gently, experimentally, curled his fingers and squeezed. The desperate, keening sound that came from Greg went straight to his own cock and it surged against his jeans.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" Darkness misted over his eyes and his mouth turned up into a feral snarl. "God, I would take you now, throw you down here in the dirt, if I could." Mycroft gasped and Greg smiled dangerously. "I would," he whispered, though it sounded more like a warning, biting Mycroft's lower lip again with a snap. "Just pound the ever-living fuck out of you."

The words melted over his body like liquid sin and he moaned, releasing Greg as his hands fell to his side, clutching at the stone behind him for purchase. There was a tentative brush at the front of his jeans and he could feel the heat of Greg's hand burning him through the denim.

"Greg!" he yelped as the DI's hand closed around the wanting swelling of his cock. Mycroft's hips moved in a trembling lurch as Greg rubbed and squeezed, coaxing him harder than he ever thought possible.

"Love it when you say my name," he murmured against Mycroft's neck. "Going to shout yours when I get home. Wonder if you'll say mine."

"I-I don't—" he stuttered. "Not that. Never-I…I don't need…"

Greg didn't even look up. "You will." He punctuated the statement with another hard clench of his fingers that made Mycroft's knees threaten to give. "Or you could let me take care of it for you." His fingers roamed, the touch hot and searing as it went, moving easily past his belt buckle, deftly sliding between fabric and flesh, worming their way down until he found his prize.

"Oh, God, Greg!"

Greg's fingers curled around the length of his bare flesh with certainty, letting out a low, erotic moan of his own as he stroked with deliberate care.

"Greg, please!" The sensations were coming all at once, so fast, hitting him from every angle. It was too much to process, too much to handle. He just couldn't let go, not like this. "Please, no!" he gasped.

Everything stopped and Mycroft's eyes went wide as he struggled to catch his breath. Greg's hand had slipped from his jeans and now rested easily at his hip. He was afraid to look up. Afraid to see what waited in Greg's eyes. He couldn't. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the ground. "It's just….I….it's just too much."

Greg lifted his chin to look at him. There was no judgment, no pressure. "It's okay. I promise. I won't say I'm not disappointed, but it's okay." He pressed a quick kiss to Mycroft's mouth. "I said slow, even if I'm doing a shit job of demonstrating that, but I still mean it. We're good. Really."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Mycroft's shoulders relaxed. "I'm-"

"Shhh." Greg placed a finger over his lips. "It's fine. Stop apologizing." He stepped back. "I think that's enough excitement for one evening."

"Agreed."

"I think the second date will, in all actuality, kill me," he chuckled. "You're devastating, Mycroft Holmes. Just bloody devastating."

Mycroft looked closer at Greg, taking in his disheveled state. Blown pupils, flushed cheeks, ragged breathing and rumpled clothes, the still-present raging erection. It sent a little thrill down his spine. I did that. That is for me. Suddenly, he had to know. "Would you really have…?" He let the question trail, daring himself to not look away from Greg's eyes.

Greg's heated smile was soft and sensual. "What? Jerked you off in a tunnel in the park?" He licked his lips. "In a heartbeat. But now you'll have to settle for less. We both will." He gave Mycroft another quick kiss and turned to go.

"You're leaving?"

He nodded. "You're a big boy. Got a car waiting and everything."

"Let me give you a lift at least?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to looking like Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade rather than 'Greg, whom I let molest me in a public park'. "Now I don't think climbing into the backseat of a car with you would be prudent at this point in time, do you?"

Mycroft considered it a moment and smiled. "Good night, Greg."

"'Night, Mycroft."

An hour later, Mycroft lay naked and trembling, for the first time in a very long while, among the rumpled sheets of his bed, Greg's name still on his lips, when his mobile buzzed from the bedside table. He frowned at his contaminated hands, gingerly checking the screen (because really, how does one get ejaculate out from between the buttons?).

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF YOU LET ME DO IT. NEXT TIME, NO ONE IS SETTLING. - GL