A/N Sorry this has taken a while! I've just been made a monitor so I have been really busy with school stuff. Thanks for reading. MG

Greg was alone when he woke up. There was a sticky patch on the bed. Mycroft's bed. He was laying in Mycroft's bed, almost pinned to it by the thread-count of the bed linen. Greg wriggled around to face the room, half expecting to find Mycroft sitting at the desk, looking over one of his impossibly complicated text books but the room was empty. For a moment he lay still. Confused and a little disappointed that Mycroft hadn't woken him before he left for wherever he had gone. Or disappointed that Mycroft had gone rather than stay with him. He wasn't sure which.

He got out of bed. He was very aware that he smelled of sex. He smelled of Mycroft. Expensive aftershave and musk and sweat. He needed a shower. And he needed to get to the showers without anyone seeing him. He was certain that it was obvious what he had been doing. He had been in bed with another boy. Not just any boy either. Mycroft Holmes. And he had let Mycroft Holmes thrust between his legs until they had both ejaculated and he had been desperate for Mycroft to take him, to push his substantial length into Greg and fill him repeatedly.

Greg blushed, grabbed his towel and shower gel and opened the door a crack. The corridor was empty but Greg was still holding his breath and the ten metres of corridor seemed like the longest distance in the world.

"Gregory." The voice of Mr Allen, the housemaster, cut the air just as Greg reached the door of the showers.

"Yes Sir?" Greg could smell himself. He knew Mr Allen would be able to smell him too. Mr Allen would know what he had been doing. And probably with whom he had been doing it. He might as well be wearing a huge sign.

"Everything all right Gregory?"

"Yes Sir. Just having a shower."

"Well I can see young Mr Holmes is having a good influence on you."

"Sir?" Greg turned beetroot. He knew! Mr Allen knew. Greg could feel his heart beating thickly in his throat.

"Personal hygiene Gregory!" Mr Allen twinkled and walked off up the corridor. And Greg was left to slip into the showers and wash away the scent of the last two hours or so. That was the easy part. But the memory of it all wouldn't wash off so easily.

Greg had always assumed it was a phase. Something he would grow out of. He wasn't really gay; he just liked the guys in the magazines for what they represented. Power, physical perfection, excellence, strength. It wasn't as if he had ever found any of his other school mates attractive. And yet, within hours of meeting him he'd let Mycroft… well he wasn't quite sure what you called it. And then Mycroft had looked at him with those weird, pale eyes and told him that he wanted it to be special. Implying that there was more to come. Special things to come. Greg wondered what kind of special and as he did he felt his cock twitch and begin to harden. Just the thought of Mycroft did terrible things to his body. He wondered if Mycroft felt the same.

When he got back to his room, still hard despite turning the shower on full blast on the cold setting, Mycroft was back. The bed had been changed, crisp clean white linen replacing the sticky sheets and duvet cover from earlier. Mycroft was sitting at his desk, making notes, dressed in jeans and a formal looking blue button down shirt.

"Hi!" Greg smiled at him.

"Hello." Mycroft turned around on his chair.

"You don't really do casual do you?"

"What?"

"Do you have any clothes your mother didn't pick for you?"

"I can assure you my mother does not pick my clothes for me."

Greg pulled a pair of black jeans and a Ramones T-shirt from his wardrobe.

"So would you wear these?"

"Aside from the fact they certainly wouldn't fit me. No. "

"Why not?"

"They're just not my sort of thing."

"So you won't even try them on? Have you ever worn a t-shirt before?"

"Yes. Oh for goodness sakes." Mycroft snatched the t-shirt Greg was waving in front of him out of his hands. He removed his shirt and pulled the t-shirt on.

"Bloody hell!" Greg couldn't help shouting out.

"What?" The t-shirt, which was a good fit for Greg was almost skin-tight on Mycroft and showed off his broad shoulders and thick body rather well.

"Hang on." Greg grabbed a tube of hair gel from his own desk and squeezed a bit on his hands, then proceeded to make a mess of Mycroft's neatly combed hair. "You just need a tattoo now!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look." Greg turned the taller boy to face the mirror on the wardrobe door. Mycroft looked a little surprised.

"I look different."

"You look hot." Greg adjusted a spiky bit of Mycroft's hair. "Very hot." He ran his hand down the front of Mycroft's chest and continued downwards, slipping his fingers past the waistband of his jeans, brushing the thick cock before finally cupping Mycroft's heavy balls. Mycroft gave a small sigh of pleasure before grasping Greg's wrist firmly and pulling his hand away.

"What's wrong? Don't you like it?" Greg's own erection was poking through the gap in the towel wrapped around his waist.

"I like it very much. But I'm rather hungry. It's nearly time for dinner."

"You're joking me? You'd rather have dinner than me?" Greg angrily began fishing in his drawer for clean underwear.

"I really don't perform well with an empty stomach." Mycroft pulled the t-shirt off. "However, I'm prepared to skip dessert for something more interesting." He pressed himself into Greg's back, wrapping his arms around him.

"I bet you don't say that to everyone."

"I've never said that to anyone before."

"That I can believe." Greg turned around in the embrace and poked Mycroft in the stomach.

"There's no need to be rude." Mycroft let go of Greg and pulled his shirt back on. Greg was certain he might have touched a nerve there.

"Hey. I was only joking."

"So was I. I have absolutely no intention of missing dessert!" There was a bite of malice in his voice as he said it. One which Greg found very difficult to interpret. The pale eyes looked Greg over once and then Mycroft was gone, leaving Greg slightly confused.