"Lestrade-" Mycroft's warning cut off sharply as his breath caught, his mouth occupied by a slow yet demanding kiss. His fingers curled into the tight fabric that hugged the DI's broad shoulders while being pushed up against his office wall.
"Lestr-" Mycroft tried again, but his thoughts derailed as soft, warm lips slid to his chin and gave a light teasing nip. His knees threatened to buckle.
Mycroft felt the delicious vibrations of the inquiry against his skin. He tried to clear his throat, but it was hard to concentrate when he could feel Greg's teeth and lips dragging along his jawline to his ear.
"I don't-" a small hiccup of breath, wet kisses were trailing down his neck. "I don't usually engage in... this."
The hot tongue taking his pulse slowed its movement. The feel of Greg's lips as he spoke sent a shiver down his spine. His fingers twitched, biting deeply into Greg's shoulders. The muscles were hard beneath his fingertips.
"This?" There was a hint of amusement in Greg’s voice, "We did this last week." Then the tongue was back, searing a path downwards, another pause, more amusement, "and the week before that."
"Yes..." Mycroft began trying to remember why he was even still talking and not just trying to enjoy this. Oh, right. "Repeated engagement with the same paramour."
Greg's response was to bite lightly at his throat, and he felt strong fingers starting to undo the top buttons of his shirtsleeves. His tie and waistcoat already deposited... somewhere.
"Greatly increases the probability for-" Mycroft tried to suppress a small groan and failed. He could feel Greg's uneven breath on his skin "S-Sentiment. It's non-advantageous. Precarious." He frowned when the fingers stopped their ministrations. His relief altered instantly into want.
Greg didn't lift his head from where he had been sucking and licking his neck, but he asked, "Do you want me to stop?"
"No." Mycroft blurted, horrified by the surety in his voice. The driving need to keep Greg close, keep him within arms reach, shocking him. He thrust his hands up into Greg's thick hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
He felt a puff of hot air at the hollow of his throat as Greg let out a small laugh. His fingers started moving again, undoing more buttons.
"Don't worry. We'll keep it simple…" He trailed off, his voice low. Greg's large hands pulled Mycrofts's shirt open and off his pale shoulders.
Mycroft felt Greg's mouth curl up into a grin against his clavicle, "Just don't fall in love with me." He teased.
Mycroft felt his pulse stutter at the base of his throat. His mind told him he could manage this; it was possible. He could have the man and the sex but disengage the emotion. Snuff it out. His heart quietly thumped its doubt.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Mycroft felt his face flush in humiliation. He didn't mean to say it, it just…slipped out. The admission had bubbled up from a place void of all logic and reason. It had made it's reckless way past his lips before he could grab it and shoved it back down.
Stupid, his cynical mind yelled.
How cliche, he thought as his stomach lurched. To announce such a thing when he was still on top of the other man. Their bodies slick with sweat, and both slightly out of breath. Post-coital hormones, indeed. For months he had been able to keep all his feelings locked firmly behind a steel barricade in his mind, abandoned, along with his exiled heart. Said heart skipped painfully in his chest in outrage of its captivity.
Mycroft was frozen as he watched chestnut-colored eyes widened instantly, eyebrows flying upwards. He followed the movement of dark lashes as they gave a slow blink. Mycroft felt the panic starting to riot within him. He couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? He should move.
It would be easier to take the rejection when he wasn't subjected to Greg's painfully handsome face and soft eyes. He tried to focus on the drops of sweat along Greg's damp forehead, taking in his mussed up hair, evidence of their lovemaking. The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of Greg's mouth, and Mycroft closed his eyes as if it would shield him from the inevitable. Greg would at least be kind about it.
His nerves tensed immediately, and he became even more aware of their position, of his weight pressing down on the warm body beneath him, the rise and fall of Greg's chest. He felt Greg's rough warm hand gently cupped his right cheek, his thumb making a slow caress over his cheekbone.
His shoulders twitched as he tried to relax into the touch but also prepare for the end. The end of late nights, passionate sex, phone calls, silly texts that made Mycroft feel foolish and giddy at the same time. The end of childish hope. The end of them. There's was no way to come back from regurgitating your heart onto a no strings attached lover.
"I told you not to fall in love with me." Greg's voice was teasing, but there was a gentle softness to it.
Mycroft huffed out an embarrassed laugh at the memory and leaned down to hide his burning face in Greg's warm shoulder. It wasn't the response he was expecting. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples; his brain was in tumult.
"Hey…" Greg whispered into his ear, and he couldn't suppress the shiver he felt as Greg's breath brushed against his cooling skin. Greg's hand cupped the back of his neck. His fingers teased the damp hair at his nape before trailing up, lightly gripping his hair. Greg gently tugged until Mycroft looked up at him, coming nose to nose.
Greg's dark eyes brimmed with tenderness as their gaze met; his whole face spread into a smile. "I love you too."