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Sunday Morning

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Greg stirs first, the light creeping through the window that signals sunrise is getting harder to ignore. He can feel the stiffness in his muscles that comes from sleeping on the sofa, but the warmth of Mycroft behind him makes this all completely worth it.

Mycroft’s hand is draped over Greg’s waist, and his breath ghosts evenly against his neck, making  him shiver.

Greg closes his eyes to savour the moment, he can feel the smile on his face that’s so wide it hurts, but he doesn’t care.

His sofa is old, but comfortable, and surprisingly big enough for two people to lie side by side; he’s thankful for small mercies.

They hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains last night, too interested in their conversation.

So now, Greg finds himself wanting to pull over the curtains so that the morning light doesn’t wake Mycroft. He wants to be able to turn around and come face-to-face with Mycroft, finally see what he looks like asleep.

However, he knows that amount of movement would wake the other man.

Still, he wishes.


Greg keeps his eyes shut, Mycroft’s even breathing the only noise inside his apartment. The TV had long gone into standby.

Greg was lucky to have had a blanket resting across the top of the sofa, and that covers them both now. He’d wanted to suggest moving into the bedroom, but didn’t want to seem like he was merely thinking about sex.

He and Mycroft had been on five dates, each wildly different.

Greg can never get over the warmth in his chest whenever he thinks of the other man. It’s never been like this before.

He’d fancied Mycroft for years, and when their regular meetings became less about Sherlock and more about each of them and friendly conversation, Greg had finally asked Mycroft out on a date.

Mycroft had agreed, and Greg had wanted to kiss him right then and there.

He didn’t, of course.

However, Mycroft had confessed that he hadn’t been on a date or in a relationship in many years, and Greg simply said that they would take everything at Mycroft’s pace.


Last night, Greg had invited Mycroft over for dinner.

A simple lasagna, followed by a sherry trifle made with his grandmother’s recipe.

Mycroft had brought the wine.

They both enjoyed the night and Greg was overjoyed when Mycroft didn’t call his car to collect him. Instead, they stayed up with the TV on in the background, a black and white movie that Mycroft had praised went unnoticed in favour of their conversation.

Even now, Greg’s coffee table is littered with mugs of tea, the packet of chocolate hobnobs only holds one survivor.

Greg will never tire of Mycroft’s voice, of the way they can effortlessly talk throughout the night, the endless love he holds inside for Mycroft; it deepens the more he gets to know the other man.

They’d decided about an hour ago to turn in, sharing soft kisses, forgetting about the imminent sunrise.


Greg’s swiftly taken from his train of thoughts by the quiet moan behind him, the arm that tightens around him.

Greg stills, though still hearing Mycroft’s even breathing, signalling the man is still asleep.

The second moan is deeper, and Mycroft shifts, and suddenly Greg can feel Mycroft’s erection against his arse.

Greg bites his lip, closing his eyes, at a loss of what to do.

His own erection is an issue that he had intended to solve in the shower, out of sight of the other man. He’d been very clear when he said they’d go at Mycroft’s pace and he meant it.

The third moan has Greg’s hairs standing on end, he can feel the goosebumps rise on his skin.

He deliberately counts to ten, feeling guilty.

He knows that Mycroft would be mortified to know what he was doing in his sleep, and there’s a fear that if Greg doesn’t wake him, it’ll ruin the trust they’ve built up between them all these years.

Especially within their romantic relationship.


Greg shifts, he can feel the heat in his cheeks, the tightness of his pants.

He attempts to roll onto his back, knowing that Mycroft had confessed himself as a light sleeper, and that hopefully the movement will wake him.

Mycroft shifts in response, his head moving to rest on Greg’s chest with a soft, contented sigh.

Greg can’t help but stare adoringly at the sleeping man. Mycroft’s face is the picture of peace.

Greg notices that Mycroft’s cheeks are flushed, and the spike of arousal that shoots through him at the next moan makes him whimper.

Feeling guilty, Greg presses his lips to Mycroft’s forehead. “Myc?” He whispers in an attempt to not startle him. “Darlin’?”

Mycroft stiffens beside him, and Greg can hear the shift in Mycroft’s breathing once he wakes. It takes him a few more seconds to open his eyes and Greg presses another kiss to Mycroft’s forehead in an attempt to comfort him. “Just me, Greg.” He whispers, and Greg can feel some of the tension leave Mycroft’s body once he recognises where he is.

“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice is rough with sleep and Greg somehow manages not to moan in response. “Sunrise?”

“Mhhm, mornin’. We only got about an hour of sleep.”

Mycroft stills beside him, wide eyes meeting Greg’s. “I woke you.”

Greg immediately sees the panic and manages to sit up, drawing Mycroft into his arms. “Sun did first.” He kisses Mycroft’s forehead, soothing. “We all have dreams, s’alright darlin’.”

Greg is surprised by Mycroft’s laughter, shy and embarrassed, he covers his face with his hands.


“The dream was about you.” Mycroft admits, still curled up with Greg.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Greg whispers.

Mycroft is silent for a minute and Greg knows not to talk; that Mycroft is processing.

“I want to tell you.” Mycroft murmurs, sitting up to meet Greg’s eyes, “I want to show you.”

Greg feels like the breath has been punched out of him. “Only if you-“

Mycroft takes Greg’s face in his hands, his eyes are sparkling, “You’re so good to me, Gregory.” His thumb strokes Greg’s cheek, “You’ve been so patient over the last few months.”

“It’s all for you, darlin’. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I feel cherished.” Mycroft murmurs, “I’ve never felt so safe.”

The word love is there between them in the air, and Greg’s heart thumps, he reaches out to Mycroft, leaning in to him. “I love you, Myc.”

Mycroft’s answering smile will beat any future sunrises in Greg’s eyes, and Greg can’t help but lean in to kiss him.

“Make love to me.” Mycroft breathes in Greg’s ear. “Take me to bed.”

“Of course, darlin’. Of course.”


Greg’s bedroom is drenched with orange light from the sunrise, and he draws Mycroft into his arms. “Finally get to get you out of all those clothes, hm?”

“Likewise.” Mycroft’s fingers start undoing the buttons of Greg’s shirt, and Greg can’t help but chuckle.

“Now, I’m not the one hiding the gorgeous body under layers and layers of suits.” He reaches out, mirroring Mycroft, making a start on his buttons. The suit jacket and waistcoat had been abandoned around midnight.

Mycroft snorts, and Greg shakes his head. “No putting yourself down, darlin’. You’re gorgeous.”

“Says the silver fox.” He pushes Greg’s shirt off his shoulders and slowly trails his fingers down Greg’s chest, through the coarse hair.

When Mycroft’s shirt falls to the floor, Greg immediately leans in to kiss Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Covered in freckles.” Greg murmurs, “Can’t wait to explore- oh!” He gasps as Mycroft presses his hand against the outline of Greg’s cock. “Fuck.”

Greg shivers as Mycroft deftly unzips his fly, slides his warm hand inside Greg’s boxers, stroking softly, a low hum of approval.

Greg grips onto Mycroft’s arms, his head resting on Mycroft’s shoulder.

“You’re so sensitive.” Mycroft breathes, amazement in his voice, continuing to stroke Greg and feel him shake.

Greg barely huffs a laugh, he’s finding it incredibly hard to breathe. He’s fantasised about Mycroft’s gloriously long fingers around him enough, but nothing’s like the real thing.

“Been-“ Greg can’t help but whimper, “-A long time.”

“Let me kiss you, Gregory.” Mycroft whispers. “I need to.”


They manage to make it onto Greg’s bed, gloriously naked.

Mycroft is long and hard and Greg craves for Mycroft to be inside him, craves to taste him.

Anything, Greg thinks, I’ll take anything.

Mycroft leans over him, straddling his thighs, kissing him deeply, and Greg kisses back as desperately, as if Mycroft’s kisses are life-giving; it certainly fucking feels like it, Greg thinks.

Greg’s surprised at the sureness of Mycroft, at his certainty of what he wants to do, but it’s twice as arousing.

“The dream.” Mycroft murmurs when they break the kiss. The roughness in his voice sends another surge of arousal through his body.

Greg caresses Mycroft’s back, his fingers trailing down the soft skin. He hums contentedly as he gets to Mycroft’s arse, pulling him closer.

Mycroft’s lips go to Greg’s neck, biting softly then soothing with his tongue.

Greg can only moan in response; though he wants Mycroft to know he’ll wear the mark proudly.

“Us together, our cocks between us, coming at the same time as we move against each other.” Mycroft’s voice is low, there’s a rasp in it that betrays his arousal. He sounds surprisingly well put together and Greg can only nod urgently, “Please, fuck.” He manages, searching out Mycroft’s lips again.


“Lube?” Mycroft asks, before sucking another mark onto Greg’s neck.

“Bedside drawer. Beside you.” Greg doesn’t know how he’s still functioning, he’s painfully hard and he rejoices in the contact between them, the warmth of their skin, the kisses that he never wants to end.

Honestly, he has no idea how he’s meant to go into work tomorrow and function like a normal human being.

Not after this.

Not after Mycroft has turned his whole world around.

A cry of protest leaves Greg as Mycroft’s warmth disappears as he fetches the lube, he sees Mycroft shake his head, a somewhat smug smile on his face.
“Christ, Gregory. You’re superb.” Mycroft returns with a quick peck on the lips, then he kisses and licks his way down Greg’s body, humming in satisfaction.

Greg’s hands fist in the bedsheets, when Mycroft takes his cock in hand again, stroking evenly.

Greg is embarrassed by the cry that leaves him when Mycroft’s mouth engulfs him.

“Be loud.” Mycroft murmurs, before returning to Greg’s cock.

He holds the base in his hand and bobs his head, when he tongues his way up the underside of Greg’s cock, tracing the vein, Greg nearly sobs.

His knuckles gone white with the strength of his grip on the sheets.

Tongue swirling over the head, Greg gasps.

It’s been so long since he’s felt the warmth of someone else’s body against his naked skin, it’s overwhelming.

His right hand gently reaches into Mycroft’s hair, trailing his fingers through it.

When Mycroft looks up, Greg’s cock still in his mouth, eyes dark with arousal, as he flutters his eyelashes, it nearly destroys him.

“Close.” is the only word Greg can manage, and even that’s a struggle.


The loss of Mycroft’s mouth makes Greg whimper and suddenly Mycroft’s lips are on his own against and Greg wraps his arms around the other man.

He hears the pop of the cap of lube, shudders and curses as the cool liquid is spread on his cock.

“Mycroft!” Greg shouts as Mycroft takes them both in hand.

“You’re gorgeous like this, Gregory.”

“I’m yours. Yours. Only yours.” The words spill from his mouth as he bucks his hips, throwing his head back at the feel of his cock sliding against Mycroft’s.

Mycroft’s answering kiss sends sparks shooting through him.

“Put your hand over mine, my love.” Mycroft whispers.

Greg can only nod, moaning softly as his hand covers Mycroft and adds to the pressure around their cocks.

Moving against each other, they find a rhythm easily.

Greg raises his head, and Mycroft smiles in what Greg hopes is adoration, as he leans in to bestow the kisses that Greg’s silently begging for.

Their movements become erratic and Greg’s moan is swallowed by another kiss from Mycroft.

Greg comes first, followed closely by Mycroft.

Mycroft’s moan when he comes will be a sound Greg will never forget.

Mycroft presses soft kisses around Greg’s face, he wipes his hands in the sheets so that he can cradle Greg’s head in his hands, holding him as he comes back to the world.

When Greg opens his eyes, he meets Mycroft’s warm gaze, sees his contented smile.

“Love you.” Greg murmurs, “So much.”

“I love you too, Gregory.” Mycroft kisses him again, slow and leisurely. “I’ll go get something to clean us up.”


Clean, they pull the duvet over them and curl up together, still naked.

Greg intertwines their legs and rests his forehead against Mycroft’s, and he couldn’t erase the dopey smile on his face even if he wanted to.

“I’m glad we waited.” Greg murmurs, stroking Mycroft’s arm.

Mycroft hums, “You’ve always made me feel safe, Gregory. I’ve always been human in your eyes, even at the beginning.” His smile is easy and relaxed. His eyes a deeper blue in the light of the room and close to Greg, they shine. “Thank you for your patience.”

Greg strokes Mycroft’s cheek, “You’ve nothing to thank me for. I love you, darlin’. Always will.”

“And I you. I am wholly certain.”

Greg leans in for another kiss. “Well, this is the best morning of my life.”

Mycroft chuckles, “Hmm. So far. I have many surprises ahead for you.”

Greg can feel the flush in his cheeks, if he was younger he’d be ready for another round already.

“I can’t wait.” He whispers, running his fingers through Mycroft’s hair. “I’m all yours.”