brotherthine | For Mousie - Anticipation of Pleasure

For Mousie - Anticipation of Pleasure

Mycroft had arranged entire countries over the course of a few days, but he never felt the thrill of pleasure and anticipation that came from clearing his Tuesday evening to meet with Gregory Lestrade. He had done a solid eight hours of work on Sunday, going through emails, red-lettering reports, writing five of his own. Monday he went in and told Anthea precisely what he needed over the next forty-eight hours, and like the miracle that she was, she made sure his schedule ran like clock-work.

With sandwiches, salad, tea and a review on the Government's policy for romantic engagements and privacy disclaimers, no less. Not to mention not one, but two cigarette breaks.

He bought her a new holster for her slinky-dress .22, and made sure she had tickets to the ballet that she had been dying to see. It was the very least he could do considering he was getting precisely what he wanted.

...well, mostly what he wanted. Tuesday night was rolling around towards 8 pm, and he was slowly considering calling in favors to have President Donald Trump and his entire staff of idiots bombed out of existence by some very disgruntled Canadians. Instead, he checked the timer on his lasagna, made sure that his salad was freshly cut, and then proceeded to give a Trump a blistering review of his entire life than left everyone in the Oval Office silent for some time, before someone croaked, 'You can't possibly know all that -'

Which was the point that Mycroft sucked in a breath, heard the ring of the doorbell and went to pull open the door and gesture Gregory inside without a backwards glance. It was unfortunate, but all of his focus now had to go into the next two minutes so he could finish this deal and have the rest of his evening.

"I could so possibly. I could possibly ruin every last one of you sniveling idiots with a stroke of my pen and my whisper in the ear of any of the many, many American publications. I know it all, gentlemen and ladies. I know about the bought sex. I know about the wire transfers. I most definitely know about the abortions that would politically cripple all of you within your own party. I also know that the last time a fascist leader tried to pull this sort of threat to the British Government, the British Government did not budge an inch. Neither, gentlemen, will I. Sign the agreement. Smile for the cameras. Or be prepared to be on the front of every newspaper in the world, and in jail within the next eighteen months. Good. Night."

He clicked off his phone, and exhaled, rubbing one hand over his face. "My apologies - the new American President is unfortunately as thick as a post. I also meant to go and put my suit coat back on from the kitchen but that did not occur either."

So here he was in his favorite dark grey suit - or at least most of it. Comfortable trousers, deep blue tie, and he had at least shaven today. Otherwise, he knew he still had his persona of the British Government up and running, so he took another breath so he could finally look properly at Gregory, and soak in the other man's charm and warmth, as well as peer to see what the other man was flaunting with his broad shoulders.

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Ah Dear Lord... He hadn't realized how much the sight of Gregory, mussed and kiss-bruised, in only his underpants would do to him. As it stood he felt like he was going to either jump the man before they got to the bed or in fact stammer here like he was sixteen again and first discovering his libido.

Then Gregory's hands were on him, sliding down his chest and to the waistband of his own boxer briefs and he could actually feel the almost yearning twinge under there. Dark eyes on his and all he could do was nod before he pressed his mouth over Gregory's again, then fingers into his hair, down his body to tug those underpants off him in turn.

"Naked is. The acceptable. State of being right now."

"Brilliant." Greg muttered once before he was consumed once again by Mycroft's kisses.

Hands slid briefs down and he almost tumbled over trying to get his own legs free of his briefs.

The growl that rose low in his throat as he tried to kick off the offending garment morphed into a needy groan as his own hand brushed finally against Mycroft's cock. His stomach tightened as a wave of need rushed over him and his mind was nothing but now please yes need now

"Bed. Now. Please." he murmured between biting kisses. "Need you on the bed, need to taste you. Just...let me have you, please. Just for a bit then I'm yours."

Mycroft's hands came to Gregory's shoulders, feeling himself make a soft noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl as Gregory's hand brushed against his cock, making it flare once more. He breathed out as he gave another round of kisses, starting to pull them both back to the bed as Gregory voiced his wants.

And who was Mycroft to deny him?

"Yes, dear god, yes. Just let me - " His knees hit the bed, and he let himself go down, reaching up to curve his fingers around Gregory's hips, to pull him down on top of him.

Greg tumbled onto the bed, on top of Mycroft, his hands going out automatically to catch himself so he didn't drop his full wright onto the man. But he was pressed on top of him on the bed and Dear Lord! the feel of Mycroft's body pressed against his, of their cocks pressed against two bodies tightly...it was too much.

Scrambling up, he urged Mycroft to scoot up on the bed a bit before lowering his head, mouthing at his clavicle, pressing tiny kisses followed by swipes of his tongue.

His hand however...

His fingers wrapped around Mycroft's cock and he sighed against his skin, as he stroked downward, pulling down the foreskins and running his thumb over the wet tip with a barely contained groan against his chest.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this." Greg groaned against Mycroft's bare chest. "I thought I could take this slow, make it good for you but..."

Greg licked at his chest, the flat of his tongue sliding over a nipple, lapping at him as he slowly stroked.

Mycroft was utterly unprepared for this.

Well, all right, no, he was not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination. He knew what happened when two men stripped off their clothing and started touching each other in very interesting places. He was well aware that Sex Was Happening Right Now, and it was Excellent.

What he was unprepared for was how Gregory completely came undone the moment their skin touched, how his mouth went to worship Mycroft's skin even as his hand slipped around Mycroft's cock and stroked downwards. How Gregory's hungry words, pressed against his chest, just made Mycroft's mind ... flicker in the corners. Comprehension was slipping away again to sensation.

He knew he should be doing - using words to paint a rather delicious picture of what he was going to do to Gregory once he got his hands on him. What he did do was make a gutteral noise as he arched up into that mouth and into that hand, and while one hand dug right into Gregory's hair, the other slipped down to his hip, trying to get one hand around that rather delightful rear-end.

All impulsive, no thought, just ... doing. It was both frightening and exhilarating, and a bell went off in his head to warn him to watch himself. He could get addicted to this.

He felt the groan beneath his lips. It rumbled deliciously in Mycroft's chest and Greg's hips pushed against Mycroft's thigh, where he rested, desperate for some sort of friction.

His kisses shuddered when he felt fingers in his hair, pulling the short strands just long enough to be tugged at.

He wanted Mycroft's hands on him, wanted to feel his kisses on his body, his fingers touching him in places silently promised.

After though. He wanted this first. Craved it, had been thinking about it since that first night of kisses on his couch and again when Mycroft had seared his mouth with a kiss before he left the small house.

Pushing away how damn good the feeling of Mycroft's fingers digging into his hip felt, Greg lifted up from his ministrations.

"Promise, I'm going to make this so damn good for you."

Sliding down Mycroft's body, Greg lowered his head, giving the first tentative lick and moaning at the taste.

"Christ, Mycroft, you're going to be the death of me." Greg groaned.

There was something deeply satisfying about being able to get someone like Gregory Lestrade to the point of sexual inebriation that he was basically just moaning and rutting one's leg, like a rather attractive cocker spaniel. Not that Mycroft would ever sleep with a canine, but he felt it was apt that someone who could seem so utterly blaise about everything the Holmes brothers did and still called them on their malarky, would be so utterly undone by Mycroft's naked body.

It was quite flattering, all things told, and Mycroft promised himself that he was going to suck Gregory's brains out through his cock for such wonderful complimentary feelings. As it was, he could feel himself arching up into Gregory's body again, just to get a little relief, to get Gregory's hand to slide down him more freely. He knew he was already going to have some self-lubrication - he was far too sexually aroused himself not to.

He hummed with purring pleasure as Gregory''s mouth moved down his skin, sending up a path of sensory data of the most delicious variety, and then ... that tongue. That blessed, perfect, tongue. Mycroft could write entire reports about the sensual slide of Gregory Lestrade's tongue. He might, if he was feeling whimsical.

The comment, though, deserved to be answered, "...Gregory, you are not allowed to expire from sexual gratification before I am able to gratify you. Throughly." He tugged on the other man's hair, his voice low and rough, "That is an order. I have promised to ...ah, yes, good ... I have promised to thoroughly taste you and I cannot do that if you succumb to your own demise. Must I be less appealing?"

Was it possible to become sexually aroused by someone speaking?

Well, yeah, he knew the answer to that, even before he'd begun this venture. Had seen first hand what the voice of a Holmes man could do to someone who wasn't expecting it, or was expecting it, it didn't matter. A lower octave, extra bass in the voice and the recipient was pretty much weak knees and pliant.

He felt a little like that now. Instead, Mycroft's voice just made him want to slide his mouth down a little further, take him in a little deeper, show off, as it were.

For God's sake, he wanted Mycroft to be proud of him, impressed. It sounded ridiculous and absolutely childish, but damn if he didn't want the praise.
Anything to feel Mycroft's hand in his hair, stroking and lightly tugging. The movement went straight to his cock.

Greg's hips jerked once more, rutting against Mycroft's thigh, giving a low moan as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of his throat and go just beyond before he let up, sliding his mouth back up and letting him go with a soft pop .

Greg looked up at the man through his lashes, his hand back to lightly stroking again. Just because his mouth wasn't on him, didn't mean he was giving up touching just yet.

"I don't know if that's possible," Greg said, his voice pitched low and raspy. "You couldn't be less appealing if you tried."

He bent his head and gave another slow lick, taking just the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

"Mmmm, tell me what you want Mycroft." he murmured, sliding down a bit more, licking at his balls, gently sucking them into his mouth and letting go. "I'm at your mercy."

Another slow lick, starting at his balls and sliding torturously slow up the shaft of his cock, finishing with the flat of his tongue over the head.

"You don't want me to die from sexual gratification, I won't. I'm yours to order."

The last word slipped from his lips with all the innuendo possible behind it.

Gregory slipped his mouth all the way down on Mycroft's cock, and Mycroft knew instantly that all the paperwork had been absolutely worth it.

He spoke in low and raspy tones, and Mycroft knew that they were not leaving this bed until well into the morning. Gregory was staying over as often as possible. Mycroft was going to make him a key and give him all the security codes.

Then Gregory had the temerity to say that he was Mycroft's to order ... and Mycroft Holmes fell in love. Right then and there, with Gregory looking at him like he was some sort of gourmet meal, one hand on his cock, devilish look in his eye, and Mycroft fell completely and totally in love and thus decided that Gregory was never leaving. He would move Gregory and Adalaide into his house, get Addy all the puppies she ever wanted, and he would marry this man and send Rebekah spiteful pictures of their glorious honeymoon whereever Gregory had decided they were going.

All that, in one heated glance.

When Mycroft Holmes wanted something, he took it. Fully and completely. He and Sherlock had that in common too.

Right now though, he was going to finish seducing this man. He'd sort out the rest of their lives over breakfast.

"Oh ... what I think I am going to order you to do, is fully satisfy me with that glorious mouth... " He purred, that nice low octave he knew was going to make Gregory salivate. "... as you use the lube that is in that nightstand there to prepare me ... " And let that voice roll like smooth silk, along Gregory's skin, "So you can claim me right on this bed with that rather delightful piece of manhood that I am claiming as mine. I am ordering two orgasms from you, Gregory Lestrade, and putting you on notice that you'll have my mouth on you once we recover."

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.

Whatever you command... - how soon could one propose marriage? Surely not during sex, that would seem as coerced by lust. Mycroft was going to have to figure out the logistics, again, in the morning.

So much math. So much delicious math.

In response, he hooked one long leg up over the other man's shoulder, and braced his foot against the mattress. He did have to stretch his long arm a little to reach the lube in the drawer, but it was well worth it for the smoky, deliriously happy look in Gregory's eyes.

He tossed it gently on the duvet, and whispered hoarsely, "I command you to not touch yourself while you're touching me ... because I want you to come inside of me, Gregory."

Well he hadn't even thought about touching himself until the man above him commanded him not too.

Now he was painfully aware of this throbbing cock, so hard he wasn't sure how he was functioning what will what seemed all the blood in his body at the head between his legs instead of the head between his shoulders. Mycroft's leg over his shoulder and his willingness to spread himself gave him a small kick of anticipation.

He wanted this, wanted it as much as Greg did, was enjoying it as much as Greg was. He ran his hand up Mycroft's legs, memorizing the feel of the soft flesh at the inside of the man's thigh in contrast to the rougher flesh around his knees.

Greg's hand left his leg to reach for the lube, he heard land on the bed beside him with a soft thump. His mouth still working on Mycroft's cock, sliding his tongue along the root and using the flat of his tongue to press against the veins as he slid his mouth up.

Releasing his mouth, he pressed a kiss on the inside of Mycroft's thigh before ducking down to run his tongue against the man's perineum, licking and gently sucking at the flesh, his nose rubbing against his scrotum as he licked.

He wanted to feel the shudder that usually came with this move, the catch of breath, as most men didn't do this. Oral was so much more than just sucking cock, there was so much more to do to turn a man on and Greg was going to try everything.

Oh dear GOD. Mycroft wasn't entirely certain he hadn't shouted that outloud, for Gregory Lestrade and all unsundry to hear. As it was, he felt his hips twitch upwards into the direction of Gregory's altogether hungry mouth, and one hand went into Gregory's hair. Twisting silver strands around his long fingers.

He huffed out a breath, feeling his thoughts congeal, mind processing and cataloging everything to be remembered later. Fondly rubbed against, like a silken sheet. Another breath now, but it was a hum.

"...your mouth should be catagorized under dangerous weapons of mass destruction. At least mine."

Greg chuckled, low in his throat as he continued to nuzzle and lick, alternating between kisses against the soft skin of Mycroft's inner thigh, the long slow lick of his cock and the controlled swipes of his tongue around the perineum.

Squirting a bit of lube onto a finger, Greg slid his hand lower, sliding a finger down, rubbing gently against the small indentation found there.

"The only target I'm set on destroying is you."
Greg's voice was soft, interspersed with soft swipes of tongue and open mouth kissed pressed against skin.

"I want to break you apart and put you back together. Right here, right now, in this bed. Wanted it for longer than I want to admit."

The finger pressed a little firmer, slowly sliding inward as Greg laved Mycroft's cock.

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, if you don't like something. I want this to be good for you, so good for you."

He looked up at Mycroft, almost spread out in abandon on the bed above him, looking delicious and almost debauched. Greg loved this look on him, realized he wanted to see it more.

"Well that is encouraging oh dear lord do that again - " Mycroft hissed out as Gregory's finger gently nudged inside of him just as Gregory's mouth touched his cock. His entire body jerked in response, drawing Gregory in deeper and making Mycroft bit his lip harder than he normally would. One hand went down to dig into Gregory's hair while the other wrapped around the duvet to hold on for dear life.

"... you realize at some point, soon, I will want to know how long you actually wanted to do this?" He breathed out, closing his eyes as he catalogued all the delicious sensations happening at once. One corner of his mouth hooked up before he heaved out another groan. Lifted his head to look down at Gregory.

"Oh, trust me, I shall be quite clear in displeasure and pleasure, my dearest Gregory. Do ... please, carry on." Before he really started to beg.

The corner of Greg's mouth hitched up and without taking his gaze from Mycroft, he lowered down and took Mycroft's cock into his mouth once more as his finger slid in just a little further into that warm space inside, sliding to the second knuckle this time before sliding out once more.

"That?" he asked playfully. "Is that what you wanted again? Or this?"

Sliding his finger in once more, he ran the flat of his tongue from the bottom of Mycroft's perineum to the tip of his cock matching the movement with the slow withdrawal of his finger.

Greg groaned, sliding his mouth down Mycroft's cock once, more as if it was a delicacy that needed to be savored.

"Christ Mycroft," he rasped. "I can't get enough of the taste of you."

Sliding his mouth down once more, he began sucking in earnest, savoring and groaning, his finger sliding in and out of Mycroft at a leisurely pace.

"Mmm, I believe my answer shall be - all of the above."

Mycroft breathed out, letting his eyes close, letting his mind wander to precisely memorize what Gregory was doing to his body, that caused his heart rate to jump, for sweat to start to form on his chest and through the top of his head. The feel of Gregory moving and moaning around his cock, finger sliding up inside of him in precisely timed motions. This was going to be a much larger mind palace add-on than he previously realized, but that was acceptable.

It was more than acceptable.

Oh, right, he was meant to be saying more and thinking less. Talking seemed to drive Gregory right through the roof, so he was going to be as verbal as possible. "You know, I am starting to think you have some sort of obsession with the taste and feel of me. I am wondering if this is a case of you thinking about this for far longer than you wanted to admit. Tell me, Gregory..." And here he purred out in the lowest possible register, "How long have you wanted me to fuck your mouth?"

Greg groaned, low and deep, sliding his mouth down deeper before sliding up and letting his cock slip out of his mouth completely.

He licked his lips, sliding his finger free and looked up at Mycroft.

"Christ, you're trying to kill me. Couple of years now." he answered honestly. "Couldn't do much about it considering but..." He gave a slow cheeky grin. "In my mind however..."

Greg ducked his head once more, slowly licking a stripe up Mycroft's cock, before glancing back up at him.

"So, do we want to talk about it, or would you prefer you fuck my mouth?" This time the grin turned a little mischievous. "Or is there something else in mind, you'd prefer to fuck?"

Mycroft exhaled out heavily, arching his hips and feeling something of a groan of displeasure as Gregory slipped his mouth free. Yes, he had the distinct feeling he would be begging soon enough.

He gripped Gregory's hair, before he hummed softly under his breath, "I have wanted to do all sorts of things to you since you laughed at me in that warehouse."

A shudder ran through him, before he exhaled slowly. "I would like to fuck several parts of you - so please let me know what you would prefer and where..."

Edited 2018-11-12 01:36 (UTC)

His voice was pure dripping sex on warm chocolate. The timber slid deliciously down his spine and made him want to do all sorts of things just to hear Mycroft Holmes groan his name.

Greg wondered if it were possible to come from someone saying your name, just right

Licking his lips, he found his breath, watching Mycroft above him. No matter how together the man sounded, the visual told him he definitely was not.

Heaving chest, the makings of a full body blush. fingers gripping the sheets rhythmically as if the repetition would calm him.

Greg didn't want him calm. He wanted him wild, on the edge, begging for control. He wanted Mycroft, grabbing at his hair, thrusting into his mouth, begging for him to please god just let him come.

He looked almost there but Greg wasn't sure Mycroft's iron control would ever allow that much of a loss of control...to anyone.

So instead, he did what he usually did in near impossible situations, worked on a solution.

Leaning foreword, he pressed a kiss on Mycroft's stomach. One kiss, soft, gentle.

"We can begin negotiations for that later. For now though..."

Fingers slid back to that small hole, searching for the warmth, that one place that caused Mycroft to catch his breath, this time adding a second finger, carefully, gently.

"I think you ordered me to give you oral until you came. And I am very good at following orders, Sir."

He kept his eyes on Mycroft as he slid his mouth over that delicious cock once more, not sure if it was his mouth or the use of the word Sir that caused Mycroft's eyes to roll back.

Mycroft was rather wrecked - at least physically. He was keeping ahold of it mentally on the sheer hope that if he lasted long enough he wouldn't embarrass himself with how long it had been since he had sexual intercourse. He shivered as Gregory placed a soft kiss on his stomach, something in him shifting and cracking, his thoughts skittering briefly before he smiled warmly at Gregory. Lifting one hand to stroke long fingers along that carved jaw.

"I warn you - I am an excellent negotiator - Aaaah, Gregory..." He hissed out the other man's name in a moan as two fingers slid into him, and Gregory's mouth was wrapped around him again. He closed his eyes, dropping it back to the mattress as his voice rasped, "One hopes you are through in following your orders then, Gregory ... faster, if you will?"

He wanted - needed the friction that he knew would properly take both of them apart.

If Mycroft wanted faster, then who was he to go against an order?

Keeping the flat of his tongue braced against the side of Mycroft's cock, he began bobbing in earnest, quickening his pace, sliding down just a bit further with each down stroke, taking him a bit deeper into his mouth.

He kept an ear out for the tells, the change in breathing pattern, the tell take twitch of a hip or a leg. They rhythmic clutching of the sheets beside his head. The fingers that stroked and twitched just on the side of his temple, barely brushing his hair but enough for him to know those fingers were still there.

And if he knew,then maybe Mycroft was using it as an anchor, a focus point? Or maybe he was just having fanciful ideas about just how intimate this act really was.

He heard the soft catch of breath, the twitch against his tongue and he doubled down, hollowing his cheeks as he swallowed him down just a bit further, using that new sensation to couple with his fingers sliding in just a bit further into him, moving back the second knuckle on both fingers, the pads, rubbing against that bundle of nerves.

Greg's free hand slid over a hipbone, his thumb stroking the skin gently, a sign that yes, he was still with him. That it was okay, it was safe.

Well naturally he wanted faster - he enjoyed things that kept up with the pace of his mind. Like the speed of Gregory's mouth, sliding up and down his cock? Mycroft found the quick slick and slide very soothing as well as arousing, because his mind jerked with every single slide of Gregory's delightful mouth.

His fingers did start to clutch into the sheets - after all he was not a young man any more. He knew that he would come within minutes of being swallowed down by Gregory. What really did it though, was Gregory deepening his swallow just as his fingers dipped in deeper and twisted on that bundle of nerves. That small touch, that glide of trustworthy fingers?

Mycroft was gone, over the cliff and crashing into his first decent or rather, excellent orgasm in over ten years.

He felt it, that first twitch of Mycroft's cock, the clench against his fingers before the man above him let out a soft groan and then Greg was swallowing, again and again as the warm, salty liquid filled his throat. He swallowed everything he could, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch it all, not the way Mycroft's hips were thrusting against his mouth.

He kept up the slow, steady rhythm with his fingers, until felt the softening of Mycroft's cock against his mouth, heard the quite "no more" come from the man under him, the light, desperate grasp of his hair.

Slowly, removing his fingers, wiping them on the sheets - they would have to be changed when they were finished (he wondered where the sheets were in this house. In the cupboard just outside in the hallway or someplace in the basement of this house where only the staff- was there staff?- knew of their existence)- he licked Mycroft's cock clean, careful of oversensitivity, before letting his now soft cock slip from his mouth.

Pressing a wet kiss on Mycroft's hips, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at the man, a rather smug smirk on his lips.

"Was that to your satisfaction, Sir?"

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