"Would you care to stay the weekend at my home?" Mycroft had asked Greg over breakfast. Greg nearly choked on his Shreddies. Mycroft took a bite out of his fifth sausage and raised an eyebrow.

"Like at your Uncle's house?"

"Well yes. It's where we live now. It's very nice. Out in the country. Of course I will understand if you don't want to. It's Sherlock's birthday on Sunday, I believe his small friend John is joining us."

"Will there be cake?"

"Of course there will be cake. What kind of question is... Oh very good Gregory." Mycroft caught Greg's smirk and scowled at his plate.

"I was only kidding!" Greg looked about. He had become adept over the previous week at ignoring the strange looks he was getting for sitting with Mycroft. Mycroft had suggested that he pretend he had been ordered to sit with him by the Housemaster. Greg was having none of it. When Paul Bradstreet had made comment Greg's reply had been swift.

"Paul, he got cut with a scalpel and beaten up in the shower by people from another House. Now I don't know about you, but Baker House has a reputation for looking after its own. You might not like Mycroft. But he's in your House. Remember the House code." The House code was basically that no one was allowed to beat up the Baker House boys except other Baker House boys. Paul seemed to accept this.

"They cut him with a scalpel?" Paul looked rather sick.

"Yeah. And wrote with it. He's got to spend the rest of his life with the word Homo cut into his chest."

"That's just wrong. Who did it? I bet it was that little pervert Jim from Reichenbach House."

"So do you want to come and stay or not? It might turn out to be a special weekend."

"Special?" Greg had noticed the strange emphasis on the word.

"You know? Special." And suddenly Greg did know. He knew exactly what kind of special Mycroft had in mind.

"Yes. Yes please." Greg could hardly wait.

The house was large and in the middle of nowhere. The car pulled up outside and they were greeted by Uncle Aloysius looming out of the front doorway. He was dressed casually in chinos and a jumper. Sherlock had burst out of the car, dragging John Watson with him and had then proceeded to talk more in two minutes than Greg had heard him say in the last week. Uncle Aloysius swept his small nephew up into an embrace and then stooped to shake hands with John Watson. Even by first year standards John was tiny and he looked up at the big man.

"Wow!" Was all he could squeak.

"Ah Mycroft! And Gregory! Welcome home boys. Mrs Hudson has been baking all day. I have been chased from the kitchen several times. I believe this means there may be a spectacular meal waiting for us."

"Mrs Hudson is Uncle Ali's Housekeeper." Mycroft explained as they were ushered inside. And indeed there did seem to be some rather delicious smells wafting through the hallway. "Come on I'll show you my room."

Mycroft's room was huge. There were large bay windows overlooking the gardens and a marble fireplace. There was also, Greg noted, a plush looking four poster bed. He felt his cock stirring in his trousers at the thought of Mycroft laid out naked on it. And was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of a gong.

"That's the dinner gong. Come on."

Greg could not quite remember ever having eaten so much in his life. Mrs Hudson, it seemed, would take personal offence if he didn't eat four helpings of everything. Even Sherlock had, with a little encouragement, got through an entire plateful. John Watson had recovered from his shyness and was currently chatting to Uncle Aloysius about his desire to become a surgeon, in between jam tarts.

"Mycroft?" Uncle Aloysius smiled from the head of the table to where his Nephew was innocently eating a slice of apple pie. "Why don't you go and show Gregory your Vatican Cameos?"

"Now Sir?" Mycroft sounded a little confused. It could have had something to do with Greg's hand which had been stroking up and down his thigh for most of the meal.

"I think it might be the right time. Mycroft's collection is quite exceptional Gregory."

"Yeah. Okay. Cool." Greg was certain that Vatican Cameos must be code for something but he willingly left the table and followed Mycroft up stairs.

John looked at Sherlock for a moment.

"It's all right John. Mycroft and Greg are going to have Sex." Sherlock obviously thought that helped.

"Don't you need a lady for that?" John had blushed a very charming red.

"You only need a lady if you want a baby. Imagine a baby Mycroft. I think it's a good job he doesn't like girls." John considered this for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Uncle Aloysius nearly choked on his treacle sponge listening to the two small boys' version of the facts of life.

"Would you like some more ice cream John?"

"We can have ice cream later!" Sherlock had bounced from his seat. Uncle Aloysius raised an eyebrow. "Er may we get down please? I want to show John the gardens."

"Yes you may. But make sure you wrap up warm!" And Aloysius Holmes was left to enjoy his coffee in peace.

The fire was crackling gently in the grate of Mycroft's room. Somewhere out in the gardens, making the most of the dry weather, Sherlock and his new friend John Watson were zooming around in the leaves looking for hedgehogs and their muffled voices filtered in despite the closed windows.

The bed was large. Covered with expensive linens and cushions. Greg watched, transfixed as Mycroft began undoing his shirt. The hair on his chest had grown back somewhat and the scalpel wounds were almost healed. He'd had yet another growth spurt as well by the looks of him. He seemed taller. Broader. Wider across the shoulders and thicker in the waist. Greg caught his breath as Mycroft pulled his boxer shorts down and off and let his erection spring free.

Mycroft said nothing at all as he reclined on the bed and began to stroke himself, bringing his already hard cock to full attention. One slight raise of the eyebrow was all it needed for Greg to tear off his clothes and join him on the bed.

"Will you take me now?" Greg was almost crying with need.

"Yes."

Mycroft was below him, smiling lazily up as Greg straddled him. He ran his hands over the other boy's thick body, feeling the hardness of his muscles and contrasting it with the softness of his belly. Mycroft moaned and arched up into Greg's touch, his swollen cock brushing against Greg's buttocks. Greg moaned. That was going to be his. Soon. That thick, meaty length was going to be inside him. Owning him. Greg turned his attention to his own erection, jutting above Mycroft's belly and dripping. Greg knew what he must look like. A complete whore.

He grasped hold of his own shaft and stroked himself, coaxing more pre-cum out. It dripped down, sticky, onto the hair on Mycroft's belly. Mycroft reached out a hand, swiping one long finger through the mess and then licking it like he was tasting icing on a birthday cake. Behind him Greg could feel Mycroft's dick getting harder and bigger. Bumping against him, the gentle curve of his shaft following the curve of Greg's arse.

Mycroft was smiling as he lifted Greg up a little and changed the angle of his hips, the tip of his cock now pushing between Greg's cheeks, probing. And then there was a terrible burning as Greg realised he was being entered. He slid down Mycroft's lubed up length, gasping as he became very aware of the size of the thing. There was another moment of intense pleasure as the fat cock pushed against his prostate. And then without warning he found himself spilling all over Mycroft's belly.

And then Mycroft began to thrust.

Greg was rapidly approaching his third orgasm as Mycroft dug his nails into Greg's muscular thighs. Greg clenched around Mycroft and felt sudden warmth flooding him. Mycroft continued to thrust as he rode out his own climax, hardly pausing before he began pounding into Greg once more. Mycroft pulled himself up until he was more or less sitting upright, Greg's legs wrapped around his waist, the angle of approach changed now. Harder. More punishing. Mycroft was letting Greg feel ever y inch of his hardness. Greg's own cock was pressing into the soft flesh of Mycroft's belly, humping against him with every punishing thrust from Mycroft.

Greg's third ejaculation spurted out as Mycroft had whispered in his ear. "That's right Gregory. Come for me. No one else. You. Are. Mine." And they had both collapsed in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"That was amazing." Greg panted. He had never dared imagine that was what it would be like. It hurt. But it hurt so nicely.

"Mmm. Yes. Quite." Mycroft was having trouble with his words. Greg stroked over his boyfriend's sweaty, sticky body, hearing the low rumble of Mycroft's stomach.

"You're not hungry are you? You can't possibly be hungry."

"What? Are you the food police?" His stomach gave a louder growl. Greg reached his hand down to Mycroft's softening cock and gave it a gentle tug. Almost instantly it had started to swell again.

"Well I suppose we have to keep your strength up somehow." The thick shaft was growing with every slow stroke of Greg's hand.

"I think we do." He was quick. And Greg found himself pinned to the bed with his legs being pushed up and once more he was impaled on Mycroft. This time it was fast. Almost brutally quick as thrust after thrust filled and stretched him. All of Mycroft's bulk pinning him down. Greg forgot to breathe. Forgot his own name. He cried out incoherently as he came and seconds later Mycroft collapsed on top of him.

They fell asleep quickly. But it was no surprise when Greg woke two hours later with Mycroft's thick erection nestling between his legs. He was very aware that the whole room smelled of sex. Mycroft's Uncle would know exactly what they had been up to. Greg blushed. The recriminations already starting in his head. This was no longer just a couple of teenagers tossing each other off. He'd actually let Mycroft shag him. Like a girl. Did that make Greg the girl in the relationship?

"Stop thinking so loudly Gregory." Mycroft muttered from the depths of his pillow.

"Are you still hungry?" Mycroft's stomach growled in response. "I think we need to go get you some food." Greg slipped on his dressing gown and padded across the room to the door, intending to sneak down to the kitchen and make some sandwiches. As he opened the door his attention was caught by a tray. There was a jug of fruit juice and several plates containing an assortment of sandwiches and cake. And a note. Addressed to Greg.

My Dear Gregory. Never worry about what other people might think! If my darling great- nephew is anything like myself he will probably need some refreshments. Most sincerely yours AH.

"Uncle Ali has been going out with Teddy since school." Mycroft reached for his fourth sandwich.

"Who's Teddy?"

"Lord Theodore Frobisher, the ninth Earl of Gresham. He's very nice and a lot of fun and he knows more swearwords than anyone else I've ever met." Mycroft sounded very impressed by this.

"Sounds cool. What does he look like?"

"Sort of short and chunky. I suppose he's quite handsome. He used to have red hair, but it went white. He was apparently voted as London's most desirable bachelor four years running. Back in the day."

"And all the while he was..."

" Yes. Shagging my Uncle. Or letting my Uncle shag him. How they have sex I've never quite worked out. I'm sure they do. Even now. But I've never got my head around the details. It's just that Teddy is a lot smaller than Uncle Ally."

"Mycroft, everyone is a lot smaller than your Uncle." Greg smirked and took a bite of carrot cake.

"Well yes. Everyone says I'm just like him." Mycroft shuddered at the thought.

"There's a resemblance yes."

"I think there's a little more than a passing resemblance." Mycroft shrugged his broad shoulders. Greg tried to imagine Mycroft forty years on and nearly passed out from the image in his head.

"I do wish you would stop that Gregory." Mycroft set his sandwich down.

"Stop what?"

"You know exactly what. Imagining what I'm going to look like. Exactly how fat I'm going to get."

"I don't care how fat you get." Greg leaned forwards, placing a hand between Mycroft's thighs. "As long as you promise to shag me like that every time."

"Of course."

"Shag me 'till I can't see straight. 'Till I forget my own name." Greg took hold of Mycroft's length and squeezed gently.

"Of course."

"Come on then!" And Greg found himself being picked up bodily and pushed against the wall. The framed map of the Solar System fell to the floor with a crash as Greg wrapped his entire being around Mycroft and found himself being filled once more.

It was after midnight when they finally collapsed, too exhausted to bother with showers. Greg fell asleep using Mycroft as a pillow with his hand protectively wrapped around his boyfriend's sticky, still semi erect cock.