If one could exude the need to be held, to be loved, it would be Gregory Lestrade. Mycroft could feel it in the soft way that Gregory touched him, the way he closed his eyes during their kiss. Mycroft could imagine he could touch the scars left by his ex-wife in this brilliant man, bright and ugly red marks carved over his soul that made him crave something as simple as touch.

Honestly he was going to deport her to Australia.

He cupped his hand around Gregory's cheek, sliding his fingers up into that now sex-mussed silver hair that truth be told, drove him insane with lust. Silver-haired fox, indeed. He drew Gregory down again, savoring another kiss while he whispered into Gregory's mouth.

"I would very much like, Inspector, for you to press me down into this mattress as you come inside of me so hard we both see galaxies behind our eyelids. So yes, I want you ... and I want you right now."