Society Ball

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  • Rec *


    “John, you will become disenchanted with me soon enough. But I would enjoy your company until that time comes. Would you care to dance?” Mycroft offered his arm.


    10 Feb 2015

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    Delightful, Funny, Sexy. Excellent characterization. Playful banter, tests of cunning, flirting, scenting, courtship, UST turned lust turned loving sexy times.
    Fantastic fun even if you're not a typical Johncroft or Omegaverse reader (although this story may convert you ;)


    Mycroft glanced at John, sizing up the situation. Sherlock was hurt or drugged, neither would be pleasant. He would be brash, rude, taunting, and most certainly anger the soldier the way he riled everyone else. In hindsight, Mycroft was quite stupid for not having done this before. Expose potential mates to an enraged Sherlock their first evening together, and let him weed them out. Given how much of his time was dedicated to caring for his brother, it made for a simple litmus test of an omega’s tolerance and understanding of the eccentricities of brilliance. “Come along then,” he accepted, and arm in arm they followed Lestrade.

    John's first impression of Sherlock was of an angry cat. The dark haired alpha was curled around a wound and growling as they approached. John crouched next to him. "Hey."

    “I had a fantastic time, John,” Mycroft answered, and instinctively brought him into a hug. Unintentionally, he inhaled a deep breath of John’s scent at his neck, and couldn’t bite back the moan that came with it. Pleasure bloomed through his body, and he blanched. He stepped back quickly, but his arousal was surely evident. “I’m sorry. Please, why don’t you let Jeffrey drive you home, and he can come back to fetch me later.”

    “I… can stay with you, if you want,” said John, meeting his eyes. His own breath was short and he knew they were both aroused. Propriety be damned, he wanted this man, this alpha.

    Mycroft felt his resolve weaken, and he confessed, “If you enter that vehicle with me, I’m afraid I might insist Jeffrey take you to my flat. I might insist on scenting you. I… you make me-” Mycroft huffed, and he stepped forward, mildly crowding John into the door of the black car, “Please John. If you don’t go… I’m afraid I might not be able to control myself.”

    “What if I don’t want you to control yourself?” growled John in his ear.

    Mycroft snapped, and pressed John hard into the car. He licked a stripe up the omega’s neck and groaned, intoxicated with John’s taste. He felt his blood rushing; warmth filling him, and he softly thrust against John once, while threading his fingers in the blond hairs. “My dear John,” he moaned, “We’d best enter the vehicle.”