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A Needed Respite

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Long week, a miserable slog of a case. Greg hadn’t had his reserves this tapped since being put through his paces as an officer. Evidence was scarce and formed nothing better than a vague picture of events, and leads were slow in appearing. He had a terrible habit of taking on that dog with a bone mentality at times like this, when work was the preferable option to going home and sitting alone with his thoughts. Multiple days in a row of staying on well after his shift had ended, letting the hours bleed into the double digits. He was on his second night of doing it. Or maybe it was three? 

Sally was the one that marched into his office at eight o’ clock and helpfully informed him that actually, it was four nights in a row. And that she would be reporting Greg to the DCI if he wasn’t out by nine o’ clock and stayed out until Monday morning. She’d marched back out again before Greg could argue, and scuffed pride aside, he was secretly glad. He just didn’t have the energy for it.

The outside chill at least woke him up a little, hopefully enough to see him through the trip home. He trudged down the steps of NSY and paused; going into his coat for the cigarette he didn’t have the discipline to feel guilty for having on his person, despite the patch on his arm and promises made. It was nearly to his lips when he glanced up and noticed the long black car idling across the street - passenger door already standing open.

A flicker of heat curled under his collar. 

Greg got the cigarette in place and turned away – casual disinterest as he pulled out his cheap plastic lighter that’d seen better days. One click. Two, three, and a little wavering flame sputtered to life. He lifted it to the tip.

The flame went out.

Greg’s hand wasn’t quite as steady on the second try. This time, he just caught the caress of air, tickling the back of his neck as it snatched away his light again. 

Greg breathed in, slowly. He pocketed the lighter.

“Something I can do for you?”

A hum stirred the silence. The empty space behind him suddenly wasn’t - mass where there was none just moments ago. 

“I was under the assumption you were quitting.” Greg’s eyes flickered closed at the brush of words against his ear.

“Yeah. Been a bit of week.” 

“So I gathered. One does tend to fall back on certain - comforts in trying times.”

Greg smirked a little then. He turned, just holding down his shiver as he faced the full weight of the gaze locked on him.

“S’pose you’d know about that, Mr. Holmes.” 

Mycroft’s soft chuckle came with a smile, faint and clinically professional. Its deliberate blandness was a bit at odds with the shrewdness in those keen eyes.

“In answer to your first question, I’d like your opinion on a small matter. That is, if I might beg a few minutes of your time?”

Fucking hell, yes.

“Sure,” Greg said, rather surprised how even his voice came out. His thoughts had to be nakedly obvious on his face, and he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest. “Wouldn’t mind a ride home, to be honest. Can chat on the way, f’you want.”

“Of course, Detective Inspector,“ came the reply, in a murmur low and dark, ”I’d be only too glad to.” Mycroft’s smile widened just that much, and Greg caught the barest flash of them – sharp and white, peeking out from beneath the upper lip. At the same time he felt the tingle, what he could only describe as a sensation of pull unfurling restlessly under his skin, drawing his feet in the direction of the car. 

There was something unfocused in it, though.

The reason became obvious once the car doors and the privacy screen were closed, and Greg found himself pinned roughly against the seat with cool lips crushing against his own faster than he could blink. 

Obviously, control wasn’t in play for Mycroft at the moment. For either of them, really.

“Thought you were in Prague,” Greg managed, gasping as he was dragged astride a pair of firm thighs. 

“Up until a few hours ago. My obligations were fortunately short-lived.” Mycroft’s fingers scrunched into Greg’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. “I wished to surprise you.”

“Yeah?” Greg twitched at the wet, trailing lick over his Adam’s apple.  “Good trip, then?”

“Besides corralling the floundering collection of brain cells I’m forced to consider colleagues?” A shuddering sigh gusted against Greg’s neck. “That I’ve come to find even a day away from you intolerable, let alone several?”

As if Greg needed to be told. As if he didn’t feel exactly the same. 

He took advantage of the loosened grip on his hair to surge forward, caging Mycroft against the leather upholstery like he’d been. He could hardly bother with being tired now, not if he was going kiss that clever mouth properly. It was like a days long fog finally lifting from Greg’s brain, nerves awake and buzzing.

“You think I couldn’t feel it before?” Greg husked. He bit down on Mycroft’s lower lip, harder than he would risk with any normal person. Mycroft hissed with pleasure. “Way you were pulling at me?”

“I – what? W-when did I-?”

Greg smiled into the next kiss, soothing where his teeth had been. “Thought so,” he murmured. With a careful curl of his tongue, he sought out the protruding tip of Mycroft’s canine, tracing down its curve. “Don’t even realise you’re showing, do you?”

A quiver went through Mycroft’s jaw. Greg felt the twitch of a frown as the extended points were suddenly less so, their length receding back. 

“Hey, hey, s’okay. Nothing I haven’t seen.” Greg nudged at Mycroft’s nose with his own. “You’re a bit pale too, love. ” 

Mycroft’s brow quirked, either in fondness or discomfort.

“As you said, long week.”

“Still don’t like it when you stretch yourself thin. Was there too much going on to get away for a bite?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the phrasing. “Hardly.”

“Then what?”

A quiet fragileness passed through Mycroft’s expression. He glanced away.

“It’s - somewhat presumptuous, I fear.”

“Myc,” Greg coaxed, stroking Mycroft’s cheek, “c’mon.” He watched Mycroft take a moment, working the words around in his mouth.

“I no longer use donors.” Greg’s fingers stilled. “Or anyone else.” Mycroft’s gaze flicked to his neck. “Not since you began allowing me to...”

He trailed off, a little uneasy as their lips met. Greg cradled his face with both hands, tilting his chin up to delve deeper. Mycroft’s eyes were depthless when they parted for air. 

“M’yours, Myc.” Mycroft breathed in, trembling as he listened. “All of me. Fuck, you – you treat me better than I ever thought I was worth. I mean it. If I can do at least this much for you, then-“

“This isn’t a transaction,” Mycroft whispered fiercely. “You’re not expected to – sustain me, in order for us to be together.” He sought the shelter of Greg’s chest, gripping onto his shirt. “I couldn’t bear if you thought that.“ 

“I don’t. I don’t, promise. Just wanna take care of you, that’s all.” 

Mycroft shuddered. Hesitantly, his arms looped around Greg’s waist.

“I missed you, Gregory. Quite keenly.”

“Me too,” Greg said, mussing Mycroft’s hair. “Sorry, kinda feel like I killed the mood.” An amused huff warmed the fabric of his shirt.

“No.” Mycroft sought Greg’s free hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I’m rather glad you did.” 

A cautious knock at the privacy screen lifted Mycroft’s head. His eyes flashed to Greg’s, a little sheepish. As Greg moved himself onto the seat, Mycroft reached for the intercom button.

“Apologies, Benton. Drive please.”

The car pulled out of the parking lot without a sound. Greg watched NSY slip past in the windows, curling contentedly into Mycroft's embrace. 

“Myc.”

“Hmm?”

Sighing, Greg let his head fall back and to one side. The long fingers resting on his shoulder tightened into his sleeve.

“Here. Should have some.” 

Greg heard a slight dry click in Mycroft’s throat as he swallowed.

“That can wait until tomorrow. I’d rather you slept first.“

 “I’m just knackered is all. You getting a quick pick-me-up isn’t gonna do any harm.” Greg smiled and closed his eyes. “Go on.”

The silence hung, muddied by the wheels of the car over pavement. Then came a quiet exhale. The space around Greg suddenly seemed to change, hugging in around him as Mycroft shifted nearer. 

“You are extraordinary,” Mycroft whispered, kissing the edge of Greg’s jaw and further down, “truly.” His mouth was gentle, almost reverent, settling halfway between collarbone and chin to suck delicately at the skin. Greg couldn’t quite catch onto his gasp.

“T-think you’re biased.”

Mycroft’s lips curled. “Breathe in, Gregory.”

The pain in these moments never seemed exactly real to Greg. He knew it hurt – it always did. But it was distanced from him, sweetened into a sensation that never failed to make him pant a little. Mycroft’s hand was warm cupped against the other side of Greg’s throat. His soft, trembling sounds rose from the silence; Greg loved every one of them.

Greg seemed to drift as the seconds swirled away, utterly safe and at peace. He missed the point when Mycroft’s teeth pulled free; only realising they had as a few parting licks were swept over the marks left behind. Most likely already healing, from past experiences. 

Mycroft drew back with a shudder. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing their foreheads together. Greg’s eyes opened to find Mycroft gazing at him, his expression beautifully relaxed and a flush already noticeable in his cheeks. Greg smiled dopily at the sight.

“You’re welcome.” Mycroft’s fingers passed through his hair, lifting a groan from low in Greg’s throat. Feedings always seemed to leave him a little over sensitised. Just the simplest touch felt like heaven. Greg let himself be guided down, his head coming to rest on Mycroft’s lap.

“Shit, sorry,” Greg yawned, blinking against a sudden wave of drowsiness. “Maybe should just - rest my eyes a min...”

“Perfectly fine. It’s still another 30 minutes out of London.”

Greg grinned up at him. “Somewhere new?”

Mycroft nodded. “Somewhere private. I’m afraid you’re to be incessantly spoiled this weekend.”

“Mm, don’t think I’ll be complaining.” With a deep sigh, Greg let his eyes close, tilting his head up into the continuing petting. “S’nice. Keep doing that?”

“Of course.” Lips pressed to Greg’s forehead, whispering as he dozed off. “Sleep, Gregory.”