The point of no return was fast approaching. That sweet moment when he would bite down on the long pale neck and taste the blood he could see, feel, smell, pulsing in the veins and arteries beneath the porcelain skin. The smell had changed, the rich chocolate now laced with cinnamon and brandy. The smell of Mycroft Holmes arousal.
Blue eyes, the pupils blown, met Greg's brown eyes, so dark they looked black, searching for something in the chocolaty depths. Searching for something, but finding something else. Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he pulled back, briefly breaking the contact between them. Greg's body was screaming at him now. Screaming for blood. Mycroft's blood. A single drop of crimson was visible just above the collar of his expensive shirt. A punctuation mark at the end of Greg's life sentence. Greg steeled himself for the inevitable.
"I think we should perhaps go somewhere a little more comfortable. Don't you Inspector?" That was not what he had been expecting. Surely Mycroft had felt the teeth on his neck? Surely he had sensed the primal urgency as Greg had prepared to take him. To make him his.
"Where?" Where will this end? That's what he meant.
"I have a suite of rooms in Mayfair." Of course he did. "Perhaps we could go there?"
Greg remembered nothing of the journey back to Mayfair. Nothing but the blurred lines of the car, the cool leather against his cold skin. The only thing that mattered, the be all and end all, was the moment it was leading to. He had realised that Mycroft had no clue what was about to happen. No idea he was being chauffeured to his own death.
Clothes were ripped off. Mycroft's suit, a good five thousand quid of anyone's money, was abandoned in a series of pinstriped puddles on the way to the bedroom. Skin almost as pale as Greg's, but warm, flushed, giving off the intense smell of lust. Mycroft was just removing his boxer shorts when he felt the lips on his neck. He leaned back into Greg's embrace, wondering why the man felt so cold behind him. He felt the arms snaking around his waist, pulling him tighter. He smiled, his arousal more intense than he could ever remember. He felt the pain. Just for a moment. The sharp burning in his throat. He realised too late what was happening. A futile struggle of a nanosecond as his brain told him that his blood was being drained. And then, as the shuddering orgasm ripped through his dying body, he surrendered himself completely.