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Oneshot Mystrade: My new Favourite

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Greg stumbled down the hall, tripping on his untied shoe lace and giggling when he caught himself. Drinks had been half off at the pub down the street and his balance was paying the price.
He wasn’t sure which hall he was in and stopped to blink a few times, looking around deliriously. It didn’t look like the dorm hall, and he finally realized he had found his way to the Professor’s rooms. Most of the doors had small plaques nailed to the tiny mailslots and he chuckled to himself. He looked at the names, slightly shocked by the titles and degrees that some of them had. Mycroft Holmes Ph.D. (and some more that he didn’t bother reading, or didn’t know what they stood for)
He stopped outside the door, resting his fingers on the handle. He was sure the door would be locked, but pressed down on the latch for good measure.
The handle gave way easily and the door swung open. Trying not to chuckle naughtily, he slid through the doorway and closed the door.
The apartment was small and tastefully furnished. It was cozy; the dying embers of a fire were still in the fireplace, a blanket was tossed over a chair, and a freshly cleaned tea cup was drying on the dish rack. He walked to the bedroom quietly, shed his leather coat and boots, and climbed into the bed next to the professor. “What the!” Mycroft scrambled across the bed, eyes wide, flicking the lamp on. “Who, what are you doing in here.”

Lestrade grinned and lay on the pillow, “Don’t remember me?” he said flirtatiously.

Mycroft’s brain scrambled to find his name and when he finally did, he snapped at him, “Gregory Lestrade. What the fuck are you doing in my room...bed. Why are you in my bed?”

“It’s Greg.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” he repeated

“Oh….I didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth, Professor.”

“Gregory. Get out of here.”

Lestrade smiled and slid closer to him, “Come on, have a little fun.”

The desire to have Gregory was overwhelming. Lestrade had no idea that Mycroft had been smitten, or that he was toying with the professor’s love. He had just been horney and went looking for a partner.
Lestrade wrapped a strong hand around Mycroft’s tshirt and pulled him back onto the bed. The struggle was more for show than anything, and Mycroft let himself be pressed against the pillows. Lestrade straddled him with a smile and kissed his neck, “See, it’s not so bad.”

Mycroft fought with his desire, “We shouldn’t do this.” He said halfheartedly, pushing his arms up Lestrade’s shirt, “We could get in trouble.”

“What’s the fun of life if there isn’t a little trouble?” he smiled and pulled Mycroft’s tshirt off, “Anyway, someone would have to catch us.”

Between trying to become a professor and becoming a professor, Mycroft had never had an easy time finding dates, so an illicit affair was certainly outside his radar of experience. The idea of sleeping with a student was appalling to him, but he found it impossible to refuse the man’s advances.

Lestrade’s head was spinning and he leaned his forehead against Mycroft’s chest for a moment, trying to get his sense of direction back.

Mycroft put his hands on Gregory’s back, turning them both onto their sides and leaned forward to kiss him. He stopped when he noticed Gregory’s eyes were shut and his breathing was normal. “Gregory?” he said quietly, waiting for a response before repeating.
The idea that his lover had fallen asleep was disheartening and Mycroft felt stupid. There was no way he could lift him, otherwise he would have thrown him out of the apartment. Instead he pulled the blankets to the sleeping man’s chin and switched off the light, turning over to try and get to sleep. He couldn’t believe he had been idiotic enough to fall for the man. He should have forced him to leave, instead of sacrificing his dignity. Why would something so...perfect, have been interested in me anyway? was his last thought before disappointed sleep took over.


Lestrade opened his eyes and tried to focus on the clock. His head wasn’t throbbing anymore, so he knew he must have slept for quite a while. 3:50.
He was pretty sure he had left the bar at 10, since he knew he had class the day after. The rest of the night was a little hazy, but he remembered stumbling into the professor’s bed. His jeans were still clasped, so he knew he had fallen asleep before anything happened and he felt a little embarrassed. Mycroft’s back was to Lestrade, but he was obviously sleeping.
The perfectly mussed, ginger hair was silky smooth and Lestrade wondered if his ivory skin was as soft as it looked.
He may not have been drunk, but he had become curious, and that was an entirely different beast. He couldn’t remember ever having been with a man and his experimental nature didn’t intend to keep it that way. He snaked a hand over the freckled shoulder, softly taking in the feeling of his skin. It was softer than it looked, and he let his hand wander down his arm and onto the protruding hip.
The ticklish sensation woke Mycroft and he sucked in a breath, “What are you doing?”

“Is that all you ever say?”


Lestrade leaned against him, resting his chin on Mycroft’s shoulder, “Sorry I fell asleep.”

The apology stung, as Mycroft wasn’t sure if it was a mockery or a testament to his sexual appeal. Lestrade meant it as neither, and kissed his arm, “Let me make it up to you?”

Mycroft twisted slightly so he could look Gregory in the eyes when he told him that he wasn’t a fool, and to get out. But Lestrade bit his lip (coyly) and widened his eyes and Mycroft smiled, “If you fall asleep again I kick you out.”

“Sorry.” He said again, finishing the honest apology with a crooked smile.
Mycroft was as straight laced as they came; always on time, always a straight A student, always clean and freshly pressed. So the idea of falling for such a bad boy made him wonder about his own mental health. Gregory was everything he wasn’t. He spiked his short hair and wore a leather jacket, he rode a motorcycle and picked up random women at the bar. He showed up late to class and got away with it because he was cute and knew how to pout. Things that would have never occurred to Mycroft.

And right now, those brown, puppy dog eyes were half shut, taunting him. Greg pulled Mycroft underneath him, assuming the same position he had taken before he had (So embarrassingly) fallen asleep. Mycroft looked distrusting, probably having deja vu about the whole experience. Lestrade licked his lips, letting his eyes and fingers play across his chest. Tiny freckles dotted the man’s entire torso, sprinkling onto his arms and down his legs.
Mycroft wished he had the wherewithal to either tell him to leave, or take him wholeheartedly, but he did neither and instead focused on trying to control his breathing. It was coming in short gasps as the other man’s expert tongue explored his chest. Lestrade let his teeth rest lightly on Mycroft’s nipple, gauging his reaction. He felt him tense as he slowly closed his teeth against the taut flesh. Smiling, he let his tongue flick across the nipple until he heard Mycroft lose control of his carefully patterned breathing. He trailed his hand down to his lover’s pants and was shocked to feel that Mycroft wasn’t hard yet. He knew the man was turned on, and almost admired the self control. “Dearie me, Professor. If your stamina is as good as your self control, you might become my new favourite.

The idea of someone else being Lestrade’s favourite tugged at Mycroft’s ego and he narrowed his eyes in the dark. If he was going to play dirty, then dirty is what he was going to get. Sitting up instantly, he forgot about being coy and snapped his teeth around Gregory’s collarbone. It took Lestrade by surprise that he was almost bucked off his ride and he let out a yelp while grabbing onto Mycroft’s shoulder for balance. The bite didn’t last long and soon Mycroft had his arms wrapped around Lestrade’s waist, pulling him closer to his waiting mouth. He hungrily kissed his warm skin, digging his nails into his back. Greg could feel Mycroft’s growing erection under him and he smiled. He had found the magic words to uncork the professor’s stuffy tendencies, and he intended to use them to their full advantage.

Mycroft’s nails suddenly loosened their grip on his back and softly wound their way to his face. He was expecting pain and smiled, ready to play rough, but Mycroft cupped his face tenderly, taking him by surprise. Slightly taken off guard, he caught Mycroft’s sultry gaze and opened his mouth to say something smart. Mycroft interrupted him with a soft kiss. It was long and lingering and Lestrade found himself more aroused than he had ever been. Even if it was going to be meaningless sex, Mycroft had managed with one kiss, to make him feel special. He put his fingers in the ginger hair, massaging his scalp as the kiss grew more passionate. Mycroft finally parted, short of breath and brought Greg’s fingers to his lips.
Lestrade traced the outline of the professor’s perfect lips until they parted, taking his finger slowly. His heart skipped a beat as Mycroft’s unwavering gaze penetrated his soul and his tongue rolled around his finger suggestively. His mouth was warm and wet and Lestrade’s pants tightened across his excited bulge.
Mycroft bit his finger, leaving a mark and Lestrade shouted again against the sudden pain. The professor’s eye’s glinted and he shoved Lestrade onto his back, ripping his pants off and kissing his quavering stomach.
His cotton boxerbriefs had only pulled partially off, getting caught on a throbbing obstruction and Mycroft left them there. He knew Lestrade was suffering, and he liked making him wait. He took his time enjoying his lower stomach, kissing teasingly around his hips and letting his neck bump into Lestrade’s pulsating member.

“Oh my god,” Gregory slammed his head into the mattress, he had been trying to watch, but Mycroft’s teasing was too much. He felt like he was going to explode, but he had suffered enough embarrassment for one night, he sure as hell wasn’t going to cum early.
“Oh my god, what are you waiting for?” he said through ragged breaths.

Mycroft smiled and pulled the underwear free, sliding them down his leg and letting them fall on the floor. Lestrade looked like he was ready to start begging and he almost felt bad that he had forced him to wait so long. He pressed his hand between Gregory’s tense thighs, gently cradling his balls while he let his tongue run along the side of his dick. He had no intention of giving him a blowjob, but the sounds that Gregory made were incredible and he wanted to hear more. With his free hand he pumped a gob of lotion and rubbed it between Lestrade’s thighs.
Lestrade caught on that he wasn’t going to give him head and sat up, frantic for some release.
He tore at Mycroft’s pants, breaking the buckle on his belt and flinging the offending clothing at the wall. Mycroft let himself be thrown against the bed and pulled Lestrade on top of him, flipping him over and pushing Lestrade’s thighs together.
He pressed his erection between Lestrade’s clamped and lubed legs and put his moist hand around Gregory’s cock. The student writhed on top of his professor as he expertly worked his erection into a howling climax.
His warm cum ran down his hips and he yelped when Mycroft let him go. Mycroft put his hands on Gregory’s hips, pulling him down onto him. Gregory’s post climax shivers were enough to drive him wild, and any self control he still possessed was abandoned. He rocked the all too willing Gregory back and forth, forcing his throbbing cock through his lover’s trembling thighs until he came so hard it made his head hurt.
Suddenly weak, he relaxed, letting Gregory lay on top of him. If anyone had walked in, they would have been treated to a completely nude sculpture of unabashed satisfaction at its finest.

After a few minutes spent catching his breath, Gregory carefully rolled off Mycroft and smiled.
“I think you may have turned me into a gay man.” he said playfully
Mycroft had the burning urge to ask who his favourite was, but Lestrade beat him to it.
“And, for the record. You’re my new favourite.” He touched a finger to his lover’s nose and Mycroft smiled, “I know.”

Lestrade lifted an intrigued eyebrow, there was more to the professor than sweaters, spectacles, and ancient textbooks. Somewhere, there was a hip lover, waiting for someone adventurous enough to set him free. “You haven’t seen the last of me, Professor Mycroft Holmes.” he promised, resting his weary head on Mycroft’s shoulder.
Mycroft smiled, “I certainly hope not.”