Despite everything he said or pretended to claim, Mycroft´s body language screamed fo Greg for at least the last fifteen minutes. And now, when the DI finally felt the long lean body press against him and the mouth open wide, so much that he thought the diplomat was trying to swallow him, he couldn´t help the warm feeling of victory.

And then, most rational thoughts left Greg´s mind, to be exchanged by swirling of tongues, warm hands roaming on his jaw and testing the length of his stubble, long fingers tugging his hair and on one memorable occasion a clash of teeth, and it still felt awesome.

"Sorry," mumbled Mycroft breathlessly and started to disentangle his limbs from the policeman´s. "´M okay," Greg caught those lips with his again.

But then he could see the walls closing in Mycroft´s face again. And he could not stand it. "You think too much."

"I´m good at it," declared Mycroft rather petulantly.

"Wanna know what I´m good at?" Greg winked.

"Not listening a word I say?"

"Sherlock is better at this."

"Making clever remarks?"

"I will remember you called me clever."

"I did not say that. You are, though."

"Says the man with the highest IQ in the Great Britain."

"What does IQ have to do with cleverness?"

"Am I due to listen a detailed lecture about how it measures only certan kind of human abilities to think?"

"Not interested?" Mycroft smiled wickedly.

"Not particulary."

"Lie on the sofa then."

"What for?" inquired Greg as he obeyed.

"I want to see you," the elder Holmes smiled again.

What exactly he meant by that was evident in a few moments. Because Mycroft knelt next to the couch and started to open Greg´s shirt.

"Mhmm," he muttered appreciatively and begun to touch lightly. Nipples. Yes. The outline of ribs. Collarbone. At first he would just softly brush one of his long fingers over it. When that was done, he started to trail soft kisses and his hands started to move with more force and less finesse everywhere he could get.

As much as Greg enjoyed it, he felt that there were some parts of his body more in need of Mycroft than his belly button. He must have made his frustration known, because in a flas of a moment he was studied by a pair of two very large and impossibly innocent blue eyes.

"Want to..." Mycroft gave him a peck to the edge of his mouth, "...remember..." a little of teeth on Greg´s lower lip, "...all of you..."

"Are you... filing me?" Greg finally managed to say as those lips moved to his neck. He felt a strand of soft hair tickle his cheek and almost started to cry with joy.

"Hmmm. You´re... a fine specimen."

The policeman grabbed those hair at that and crushed their mouths together. He realised that the way he was thrusting his tongue into the soft-spoken mouth was incredibly greedy, but he did not have the power to care. He also managed to get Mycroft´s jacket off and the damnable waistcoat open while he was doing so.

While Greg had to stop and pant breathlessly for a while, Mycroft seemed to be far less bothered, as he enthusiastically continued to nip on Greg´s ear, temple, neck and even Adam´s apple.

"Mycroft! Want you!" There was no way Greg would be able form a more complete sentence. But instead of draping his form over Greg´s, instead of giving Greg more, Mycroft disappeared completely.

Startled and disappointed, the policeman turned his head minutely to meet Mycroft´s gaze again and almost loose it. For the look in those blue orbs was so open they seemed to glow in the dark. Two eyes left all those steely greys aside and presented to the world blue as happy as a summer´s sky and as deep as the ocean.

With a child-like grin akin to those given by a five year old after doing something good, such as sharing a piece of cake with their friend, Mycroft moved those long fingers to the buttons of his shirt and started to open them.

Slowly the elder Holmes started to remove his clothing. After opening his shirt, getting rid of the waistcoat and sliding his braces from his shoulders, he knelt on one knee and started to undo his shoelaces.

Greg moved from his lying position to sit on the couch so as to not strain his neck overly; as soon as Mycroft caught isght of this, he moved minutely nearer and with his hand still playing with the leather shoes, he lowered his face to kiss Greg´s straining erection under the layer fabric.

Shortly, the policeman closed his eyes, but nothing more was happening, so he opened them again to hear Mycroft say wickedly: "It would work better if there weren´t so much clothing."

After that, both man sprung to action, so the rest of their clothes was on the floor in record time.

"You are beautiful," declared Greg just as Mycroft locked his thumbs in his pants, ready to take them off. A blush started to spread on the diplomat´s face and Greg was suddenly very angry, angry at all those who never told something like that to this brilliant man, so that they made Mycroft not quite believe it when he, Greg, said it now; and angry at his twenty something himself for not telling it either.

But finally, they were both naked - well, apart from Greg´s socks, and he wasn´t particulary bothered about that. Mycroft resumed his inspecting of the whole of Greg´s body, trailing his fingers just about everywhere. He blowed slightly at Greg´s thigh and laughed softly at the policeman´s reaction. He devoured the other´s nipples with a careful play of capable fingers, sucking, kissing, adding some teeth and tongue.

But in the end, even Mycroft started to be impatient enough to drape his body over Greg´s; and merely the touch of the soft skin, even with the bothering feeling of the rest of the bandages, felt fantastic. And when Mycroft moaned when Greg pinched his nipple, Greg found himself swearing to whatever deity listening at the moment: Never. No more scars, I will protect you. I will make you safe.

But these thoughts were soon covered of the feeling of pure bliss, as he felt Mycroft quiver under his hands. He was sure to make some bruises, but if anything, it seemed to cause Mycroft reciprocating more eagerly.

He lost count of the number of kisses, both deep and long and short and feather-like, he was given. He absolutely adored having Mycroft´s hand tugging at his hair. And when the other one finally moved to his crotch and touched the straining flesh here, Greg was almost done.

"How..," breathed Mycroft and Greg knew what he wanted to ask and didn´t want to decide. "Sharing," he muttered silently, as a thought miraculously appeared in his hormones-addled brain.

Propping Mycroft just so he moved both their bodies to lie on their side, facing each other, and after some fumbling, he even managed to find his equilibrum so that he wasn´t falling over the edge of the sofa.

Mycroft didn´t seem to get what he was trying to do, as he continued to try and climb over Greg´s body, but after the policeman´s steady arms returned him to the previous position, he waited obeyingly, licking at Greg´s neck.

Both man hissed in unison when Greg´s calloused hand took hold of both their erections and started to rub them one onto another. Bringing himself off succesfully, Greg continued to work on Mycroft, enjoying the feel of the other´s heartbeat, and listening to Mycroft´s uneven breathing and the strained sounds he made on top of his own ecstatic sensation. It didn´t take long before they were both laying side by side in a sticky puddle of their own semen.

Greg would have been ashamed at ending what started like an incredibly tender exploring of each other´s bodies so crassly and animally, if the last thing Mycroft muttered before drifting off to sleep wasn´t: "Good. Feel... good."