Mycroft's deep chuckle, muffed against his own mouth was decadent, sent shivers down his spine.

Distantly, he heard the soft sound of a zipper followed by fabric rustling and Mycroft's words before they stepped- stumbled- in here returned.

His hands went to the front of his trousers, knuckles brushing against bare torso again and distracting him for a moment. Eventually the zipper was pulled down and the trousers hastily removed, Greg kicking the final leg off of his foot, sending the fabric off into the room somewhere to be found later.

He had bigger cases to solve than the case of his missing trousers at the moment. The case of getting Mycroft out of those boxer briefs so he could see just what was pressing against his thigh, was much more interesting at the moment.

Pulling away with a gasp- he could spend hours snogging this man and never get bored- Greg caught Mycroft's gaze, black iris blown almost over ice blue eyes, his own hands sliding slowly over a warm stomach, stopping right at the waistband of the briefs, his fingers sliding just under the elastic, precariously close to the prize.

"May I?" he asked, his voice quiet in the room, his meaning clear.