At the Met, Greg was In Charge. Evan after that fiasco with Donovan and Anderson during the Moriarty case that backfired horribly on both of them, Greg was firmly In Charge. Sally knew it now and their work relationship was never better.

His officers knew who was In Charge, every day they stepped into the office. He was the boss, the man they followed and looked to for direction. He answered to very few and the ones he did answer to usually had to power to fire him or sign his paycheck.

Even Sherlock, as much as he liked to think he was the Alpha in their relationship, was never in charge. He liked to give merry chases and act pompous but it was always Greg's investigations. He chose who to delve priority to.

But here, listening to Mycroft order his about, it sent chills down his spine. Good chills, the kind that somehow trail down the core of ones body and set off good chills in all the right pleasure zones.

Here Mycroft was In Charge, and Greg was perfectly fine with that. He'd happily do whatever the other man wanted, so long as he praised him with that voice and didn't let him go.

Two orgasms in one night...he wasn't a spotty teen anymore, but damn if he wouldn't try. He'd almost come when Mycroft had said mine.

It was too much. He needed this man, needed to feel him, taste him, surrounded himself with him.

A soft moan fell from his lips as he smiled warmly, his hand still lazily stroking Mycroft's cock.

"Whatever you command." he growled before lowering his head once more and allowing his mouth to engulf Mycroft's cock, sliding down the shaft and making sure he took in every bit of it he could before letting up a bit, just enough to swirl his tongue around the head before swallowing him down once more.

He could do this all night should Mycroft order it, his only thought at that time was making this man moaning above him happy.