Actions

Work Header

To Make A Mess Of You

Work Text:

Three weeks of handholding and chaste kisses, dinners and quick coffees by the side of crime scenes, and this is the first time Mycroft has asked Greg in. Greg’s been patient- there’s no rush, not at their age. No one here’s worrying about leaping to the altar and popping out a full-size cricket team in the next ten years.

But getting his hands on the fine, posh fabric of Mycroft’s suit- the suits have been slowly killing him, and he’s pretty certain Mycroft has no idea- that’s absolutely irresistible.

They’re meant to be watching a movie, but it only takes about twenty minutes for things to slip into snogging. “D’you know you’re gorgeous?” he whispers to Mycroft as his lips slide to Myc’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day. Wondering which of those pretty posh suits I’d get to see today.”

“Have you? Oh-” Mycroft quivers in Greg’s arms, his eyes closing just from having Greg’s teeth nipping at his lobe.

“Mmm.” It’s tantalizing to think under all that fabric, the armor Mycroft wears for work, the man turns to putty in Greg’s hands. Sensitive. Not used to anyone getting close. Greg soothes his little nip with a playful lap of his tongue. Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll be gentle.

He doesn’t even need to come tonight. If this is just snogging like teens and going home to their own beds, that’s fine. They’ve got time to pace out their exploring. But if Mycroft wants more- well, Greg is ready. His hands slip under Mycroft’s jacket, tracing the slim curve of his hips. Perfect. Mycroft’s hands fist into his shirt as he shifts his attentions to that supple, freckled neck. “Greg- good god-”

“Yeah? Like that?” He fingers the lowest button of Mycroft’s waistcoat, tracing the chain beside it and back again. Posh boy. “Can I take this off, darlin’?”

Mycroft murmurs his assent, his narrow, deft fingers starting to draw Greg’s shirt up, slipping it from his jeans. That’s it, gorgeous. You want to touch me, you can. If there’s a bit of fervor to it, that won’t bother Greg at all. Mycroft’s said he’s not had a partner in years. No time, not between all the things his country asks of him and minding his brother. ‘ We can take it however slow you like,’ Greg had said. It’s not like he’d had much action recently either. “Go ahead, love,” he says softly, feeling the first brush of Mycroft’s fingertips against his skin. His own slide up Myc’s shirt, finding his nipples, already nicely pert. Mycroft makes a delicious noise when Greg fingers them, half a whimper and half a plea. Very sensitive. Greg can’t help a pleased smirk. “Feels good, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mycroft almost pants. “God- Gregory-”

“I know, love.” He shifts his leg, slotting it between Mycroft’s thighs to pull them even closer. Delightfully, this also means he can feel the firm hardness of Mycroft’s interest through his trousers. “Oh, darlin’- this for me?” Greg dips his thigh as he slides over Mycroft, slowly tilting his boyfriend onto his back. “Want me to make you feel good?” Mycroft curses, and Greg feels a thrill rush through him for being the one to cause him to do it. God but he likes mussing posh boys.

“Greg-”

“Mmm?” His teeth find the soft flesh under Mycroft’s ear. Myc shivers, and Greg takes the opportunity to tweak one of his nipples as he grinds his thigh into Myc’s erection once more.

Greg- I- Mycroft bucks up, making a sort of surprised, grunted, half-sobbed cry.

It’s only as he recedes to the couch, nervously pulling pack, his face bright red, that Greg realizes.

“Darlin- hey, no. C’mere.” He pulls Mycroft in close, gentle and soft, his own erection forgotten entirely as he brushes his lips against Myc’s cheek. “Get you too riled?”

“It’s- that does not-” Mycroft won’t quite meet his eye. “I- apologize-”

“Uh-uh. Stop that, gorgeous.” Greg hooks a finger under Myc’s chin and tilts it. Look at me, love. See that’s it’s alright. We’re alright. “There’s not a thing wrong.”

Those grey eyes glance up, finally, and quickly look away again. “Gregory- it’s not- I want to assure you I-”

“Mycroft, s’fine. Hot, even. I’ve been fantasizing about ruining you in one of those posh suits for months.” He watches with a sly grin as Myc’s mouth falls open, stunned and maybe even a bit scandalized.

“Months?”

“Mm, months. What, you think I never noticed you before you asked me to coffee? I did, gorgeous. Just thought you weren’t interested.” He bends closer, pressing their lips together firmly. “Think I can prove I was wrong about that now.”

The redness has dissipated a bit, but Mycroft still looks shy. Shy and messy and posh. God. Greg’s somehow hit the jackpot on this one. “You aren’t, ah. Put off?”

“Not a bit. In fact….” He slides one hand lower, trailing over the still half-buttoned portions of Mycroft’s shirt. “I’d rather like to muss you up a bit further. Then help you clean up- though you might think that’s a bit dirty too.” Swiping his tongue over his lip, he grins dangerously. “That alright, love?”

“Hnnn-” Mycroft’s eyes have gone to saucers looking at him, wide and open gorgeously mixed between curiosity and shyness. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, Gregory, but- if you’d like to….”

“Can I show you?”

Greg waits for a nod before he sets to unbuttoning Mycroft’s shirt and opening it wide, revealing his still gently flushed chest. He may have lost a bit of his own hardness in the interim between their first round of messing about and now, but all that luscious pale skin is enough to perk him right back up again. “Mmm. Still sensitive, love?” His fingers wind down over Mycroft’s nipples, flicking them gently. “Not too much?”

“No, it’s- that’s fine.”

He glides his hand down, spanning over Mycroft’s belly. He’s slim, even slimmer than Greg thought- the suits actually fill him out a bit, make him a touch broader. “What I want to do,” he murmurs, biting into his lower lip rather deliberately, “is spill all over you- right here, I think. Show you how pretty I think you are, all mussed up. Alright?”

Mycroft blinks, looking vaguely surprised. “You would like to… come on me?”

“Mmhm. And….” Greg swipes his hand lower, tracing the edge of Mycroft’s trousers. “I have a fairly filthy idea for what I’d like to use as lube.”

He watches as Mycroft absorbs that, slowly processing, his cheeks reddening again and eventually letting out a low huff. “Gregory that is… delightfully indecent.”

“Yeah?” The corner of Greg’s lip curves up into a sly grin as his voice lowers. “Interested?”

Mycroft turns a further shade of scarlet, nodding. “I still… want to see you.”

“Do you now? Shall I give you a little show?” He slips his fingers lower, fine fabric on one side and soft, supple skin on the other. Mycroft gasps when he works his fingers into dampened, coarse hair, slicking them on anything and everything he can find. That he takes the opportunity to cop a feel on Mycroft just to earn another one of those breathy gasps- well, he can’t really be faulted for that. God, can’t wait til I can get my mouth around you and really make you shout. That will have to be later, though- they’re not young men anymore, he can’t honestly expect Mycroft to spring back so fast. Not in minutes, anyway.

He lingers just long enough for Mycroft to start quivering under him, easily overstimulated so soon after his orgasm. Those fine long fingers find Greg’s hips as he withdraws his hand and spends an indulgent moment laving his tongue over one finger while Mycroft stares at him, open-mouthed. “Like the way you taste, love.”

It’s almost too quiet to hear, but the next breath of air that exits Mycroft sounds suspiciously like “ fuck.”

Greg lifts a brow, smirking as he undoes the fly of his jeans one-handed, straddling over his posh lover. He takes his time shifting his pants down under his arse and drawing himself out of them in a long, sweeping stroke.

This time he definitely hears it. “ Christ.”

“Don’t think he’s watching, love.” With Myc’s come on his hand there’s just enough slickness to make passing his fist over his cock easy- not too slippery and not too rough. He keeps his strokes slow and steady, not enough to do much more than tease himself. Mycroft’s eyes are fixated on him, wide and dark, his lips just a little parted. Fuck. Like I’m the best he’s seen. Greg’s ego is going to be so big after this that he won’t be able to get his fat head out the house. “You’re thinking. Get out of your head and tell me, gorgeous.”

Mycroft wets his lip, a bit of the shyness vanishing as he must come to some sort of conclusion in his mind. Greg’s seen a version of that look before, usually right before absconding with one of Greg’s cases on the basis of national intelligence issues- this is a softer iteration, less sharp, less calculating.

It’s just need .

“I would like to touch you.”

“Yeah? Go on, then. However you like.”

Mycroft’s hands reach out, hesitating only briefly before they slide onto the span of skin below Greg’s still rucked-up shirt. Pushing the fabric up further, he trails his fingers over soft paths of chest hair until they hit Greg’s nipples and tweak them gently. Greg bites his lip and watches a smile bloom on Mycroft’s face. “This pleases you, doesn’t it. You enjoyed touching mine.”

“Yeah,” Greg smirks. “Think you’re a bit more sensitive though.”

A hint of red returns to Mycroft’s cheeks. “Perhaps.”

“Hey.” Greg takes one of Mycroft’s hands, raising it to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “I like sensitive.” He lowers his voice into a deep growl- the growl always works well for him. “Gonna be fantasizing about slipping in to see you and messing you up over that big posh desk. Make a mess of you before your big meetings. Press you into your chair and have you come rutting on my knee. See if anyone knows how sticky you’ve made yourself inside all your pretty clothes.” Mycroft’s breath catches. Keeping his eyes on Myc, Greg starts to suck his fingers one at a time, getting them nice and wet. “Wanna touch me?” He lowers Myc’s hand until it lays over the one he’s using to slowly wank.

Mycroft’s fingers interlace with his own, pulling together for a while as he syncs with Greg’s rhythm. Eventually Greg finds that Mycroft is dictating the pace, a quiet grin on his face when his hand slips under Greg’s and takes over entirely. “Let me.”

Greg moans softly- it’s harder to control himself with someone else managing the pace, especially when Mycroft tightens his grip, taking things out of a comfortable tease and into a more deliberate, rolling speed, mimicking a slow fuck. “Myc-”

“Mmmhm?” That sly grin is killing Greg slowly. “Gregory, you keep telling me what a mess you’d like to make of me, but you opened up my shirt. Is that because you think I would not permit you to desecrate my suit?”

God, talk posh more. Mycroft can’t possibly be aware of how that steady, aloof tone works for Greg, not when it’s combined with a steady drag on his cock. “Nnnf,” Greg grunts. “Thought it might be a bit rude for a first time, yeah.”

“Well, seeing as I shall have to have it laundered anyway….” One-handed, Mycroft draws his shirt closed, then grasps Greg’s and pulls him down to lay on top of him, pinning Greg’s erection between them but never ceasing the steady rhythm of his hand.

“Fuck.” Greg takes the opportunity to bring their mouths together, hot and desperate, his tongue freely exploring whatever Mycroft will give him. “Have you always been secretly filthy, Mycroft Holmes?”

“Apparently you bring it out in me.”

Leveraging off Mycroft’s deliciously warm body, Greg fucks into his lover’s hand with increasing vigor. Their kisses deepen with every cant of his hips, and he moans more and more freely as his bollocks grow tight. “Myc- Myc, god-”

“That’s it, Gregory- make a mess of me-”

It’s enough to send him over. Greg shouts, burying his cries in Mycroft’s shoulder as he comes, spilling over fabric and skin alike. It feels like the world has collapsed into the ignition of a firework, bursting bright and white and hot.

When he comes back into full control of his senses, he realizes Myc is stroking his hair and placing soft kisses over his brow. Greg sinks into the touch, feeling thoroughly sated. “Fuck.”

“Mmm. Quite.”

As his heart rate subsides, Greg also realizes that his efforts to sully Mycroft’s posh suit has also rendered the top of his own jeans a bit sticky. He hums thoughtfully. “Don’t suppose you have a pair of sweatpants I can borrow.”

Mycroft huffs a laugh. “Certainly not.” His hand winds through Greg’s hair with a very relaxing pattern. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was lulling me to sleep. But staying over is not something they’ve broached yet- there’s security concerns, he knows that, plus both their work hours are erratic, to say the least. “However… I do have quite a lovely shower that we might make use of while a laundering cycle runs.”

“Be a bit late by the time they’re clean,” Greg notes, shifting back to get a look at Mycroft’s face. “Don’t want to keep you up….”

“You won’t if you will join me in bed.”

Greg bites his lip to keep from looking a bit too enthusiastic at the prospect. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Gregory.” Mycroft cups his cheek, looking thoughtful. “I should like you sleeping beside me.”

“That sounds nice, Myc.” Greg kisses him again, warm and gentle.

Mycroft smiles, his cheeks tinting their familiar pink once more. Christ, that’s going to kill me too. “I should warn you I am something of a light sleeper, and I am unsure how a bedmate may be affected-”

“S’fine, Myc. Besides, I hear people sleep better with a good orgasm before.” He winks cheekily. “And I did say I’d clean you up. So let’s get everything in the wash and once you have your kit off I’d like to see if I can wring another one out of you in the shower.”

It’s delightful watching Mycroft temporarily short-circuit, blinking rapidly as red further floods his cheeks. “You are an incubus, Gregory.”

“Mmm. Just want you to have a nice time… cock in my mouth, coming down my throat….” He hears a little growl slip from Mycroft and is gratified to find it accompanied by a soft twitch of firming flesh against his own belly. “Ah, see, thought you might like that.”

“Demon.” Mycroft shifts, wrapping his arms around Greg’s waist and taking the opportunity to reach further down to grab a firm handful of Greg’s arse.

“M’beginning to think you like a demon, Mycroft.”

“Hush. I would like to savor this for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and then, when we get in the shower, you may take your time cleaning up the mess you’ve already made.”

Greg smiles widely, his eyes glinting. “Mm. I promise to be very thorough.”

Mycroft smiles back, his eyes already growing dark. “Yes, I’m sure you will.”