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English
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British Government D.I
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Published:
2014-04-23
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1,456
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1/1
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It's Terrible to Tango Alone

Summary:

Greg attends the same fancy party as Mycroft. Of course they can't be seen together there, but after is another story.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Greg sipped his overpriced champagne and resisted the urge to adjust his collar. He hated fancy soirées like this, but sometimes, as a Detective inspector, it was impossible to avoid. The tedium of the event was not relieved by the presence of one Mycroft Holmes either. They'd barely spoken of course, Mycroft moving gracefully in these high social circles. Greg had carefully stuck with the handful of other Yarders. Sally was his nominal date, and she looked lovely, but they both knew it was only for appearances.

"Think we've been here long enough?" asked Sally, appearing at his elbow.

"Yeah," said Greg, hoping he hadn't been caught staring.

Sally took his arm as they made their way to the door. He'd been careful not to drink too much. "You do look lovely," he said as he got the car door for her.

Sally gave him a smile. "Save the flattery for your boyfriend."

"Not my boyfriend." Greg shut her door and went around to the drivers side.

"Sure, sure. Of course he'd deny that too." Sally adjusted her long skirt.

"We're not having this conversation." Greg started the car.

"Just be careful." Sally's voice was affectionate.

"Been doing this a bit longer than you," he reminded her, watching the road. "You be careful too."

"Oh, things are done between Anderson and I. Been for a while. Taking care of me." Her voice was light.

"Good. You'll find the right one eventually."

"Like you, Sir?" Sally said with just a hint of teasing.

"Still Not discussing my personal life. Sorry." He pulled up to a stoplight and his phone chirped. Checking the message, he found a hotel and a room number. With a small smile  he quickly pocketed it again as the light turned green.

Sally smiled and said nothing else as he took her home. She got out and leaned down to look Greg in the eyes. "Don't party too hard. And if he breaks your heart I'll break his arm."

Greg laughed. He reached over to take her hand and kiss it. "I'll keep that in mind if I need to have any dragons slayed. Goodnight, Sally."

"Goodnight." She closed the door, picked up her skirts and headed for her flat. Greg watched until she was inside, then turned for the hotel.

Of course it was a nice hotel, if a bit old fashioned, even for London. He handed the keys to a valet who double-checked his plate and handed him a room key. He tipped him and headed inside, opting to take the stairs to the third floor.

There were only a few doors; the rooms must have been enormous. He quickly found the door he was looking for, unlocked it and pushed it open. Sure enough the room was huge, opening onto a sitting area with a view of the city, the bedroom just beyond through an archway. Mycroft stepped out of the bathroom and closed the room door before wrapping his arms around Greg's waist.

Greg smiled and leaned back against him to steal a kiss while Mycroft's fingers loosened his tie and pulled it free. He kissed him back a little hungrily, opening to Greg's questing tongue.

Turning, Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair before pushing him up against the wall. He pinned his hands next to his head and ground slowly against him. Finally he came up for air. "Been wanting to touch you all night."

"I admire your restraint," teased Mycroft in a voice Greg knew was only for him.

Greg smiled and shifted his grip to pin both his wrists with one hand. Slowly his free hand opened Mycroft's waistcoat, watching his face. Pushing it to the sides he started on his lover’s shirt. Mycroft's head dropped back against the wall, eyes closing as the cool air reached his bare skin. Greg took advantage of the angle to mouth his throat, feeling the soft moans vibrate under his tongue.

"We do have an entire hotel room," said Mycroft with attempted ease. He could hear the panting underneath. "We could move out of the entryway."

Greg slowly stepped back and started taking off his suit coat. "I want you naked on that chaise lounge."

Mycroft walked into the sitting area with supreme dignity, despite being half dressed. He carefully stripped and folded his clothes before draping himself on the chaise, cock half-hard as he watched Greg.

"Spread your legs for me," said Greg, getting his own clothes off.

Mycroft smirked and ran his hands along his thighs as he spread them, making a small attempt to hide his stomach.

"Hey." Greg crawled between his legs and kissed his stomach. "Beautiful." A delicious blush dusted Mycroft’s cheeks and down onto his chest.

Greg kissed down his hip, avoiding his cock. He pushed up Mycroft's legs and admired the view for a long moment. "Please," breathed Mycroft, watching him with eyes gone dark.  

Greg settled onto his stomach, planting a hot kiss on his entrance before slowly working it over with his tongue. Mycroft moaned and Greg wrapped his arms around his thighs to hold him in place, licking more, tongue just pressing against the muscle.

"Gregory....don't tease." Mycroft shifted against him.

Raising his head, Greg regarded him. "Don't tell me what to do," he growled before going back to slowly licking him open.

One of Mycroft's hands landed in his hair, not pulling or demanding, just grounding himself. Greg pushed his tongue deeper, drawing out low moans of pleasure. Mycroft lifted his his hips, but there was no relief. "Don't touch yourself," ordered Greg.

Mycroft groaned but he obeyed. Greg could feel him surrendering, starting to give up the tight control. His lover’s thighs trembled around him; he turned his head to kiss one. "Relax, love. I've got you." Greg returned to his task.

He took his time, listening to the lewd sounds falling from Mycroft's beautiful mouth. He pushed his tongue deep and a curse broke free. Smiling a bit he pulled back and looked down his lover's body.

Mycroft’s cock was full and leaking. Sweat stood out on his skin. His head was thrown back as he writhed slowly. One hand was still in Greg's hair, the other gripping the chair behind his head tightly. He opened his eyes as he felt Greg move, the barest blue on black. Beautiful.  

"I'm going to fuck you," promised Greg. He set down his legs to retrieve the lube while he wiped his mouth. Mycroft slowly rolled over and drew his knees up underneath him, offering his arse to Greg.

Greg gave a small slap to one cheek before coating his fingers and pushing two inside easily. Groaning, Mycroft's head dropped to his arms, spreading his legs a little wider. He was already fairly loose, so Greg wasted no time coating his cock and lining up.  

He held Mycroft’s hips as he sank inside his lover with just as much patience as he'd done everything else. "Gregory," panted Mycroft, reaching for his cock.

Greg knocked his hand away and wrapped his own around his length, stroking in time with his thrusts. Mycroft's moans grew louder and he tried to muffle the noise against his arm. Greg shifted his angle and there was a shout as he struck the prostate. He hit it again, squeezing his cock. "Come for me."

Mycroft came whimpering his lover's name. Greg smiled and grabbed his hips again, grunting as he thrust harder and faster, Mycroft utterly pliant beneath him.

Pulling out, Greg flipped him over again, pinning his wrists as he entered him, chasing his own pleasure while Mycroft hooked his ankles around his waist, urging him deeper.

Mycroft looked wrecked, hair falling in his eyes, painted in sweat and cum. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, mouth an 'O' of pleasure as he panted. How could Greg last with that sight below him? Two more thrusts and he was filling him, groaning his own orgasm.

Greg barely kept from collapsing on his lover. Instead he carefully pulled out, kissing his inner thigh before stumbling to the bathroom. Mycroft's eyes were open as he came back to gently clean him up. Dropping the rag on the coffee table, Greg hooked an arm around him and set him on his feet. “Let’s see if see we can make it to the bed,” he mumbled.

“Speak for yourself, old man,” muttered Mycroft.

Greg smacked his bottom and let go, leaving Mycroft to catch himself on the archway as Greg climbed into bed and watched him with a grin. “I could still dance circles around you.”

Mycroft made it to the bed and crawled on top of him, kissing him deeply. “But it’s terrible to tango alone.”

Notes:

Thank you to TheMadKatter13, type_40_consulting_detective, shellysbees and loveanddeathandartandtaxes for reading it over and encouraging.

You can find me at merindab. .