Fic for dioscureantwins: A Secret between Brothers, and maybe John.
Title: A Secret between Brothers, and maybe John.
Recipient: dioscureantwins
Author: knowmefirst
Characters/Pairings: Mycroft/Sherlock, John Watson.
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, maybe OOC, incest, light mention of bdsm
Summary:The Holmes brother’s think no one knows what’s going on between them. However, there is one person that is beginning to suspect.
Notes: I have never written Holmescest before, so I hope I made it justice and it’s something you like. I want to say a big thank you to the mods for their awesome work and for helping me find a beta in the last minutes, and to my beta ficklepig for making this story what it is today, because without her the fic would be unreadable and honestly terrible. All other errors are mine!
There were many things that John didn’t see, and living with a famous detective who often pointed it out to him didn’t help. However, some things were pretty obvious, especially when it came to the Holmes brothers. Well, maybe not at the beginning - they didn’t act any different. The Holmes brothers fought, no surprise there; and as always, they also challenged each other just to see who could deduce faster. If John was honest, he enjoyed being present for that. Many times Sherlock came out the winner.
No, it wasn’t then that he noticed, but if he could place his finger on it, he would say something happened when he left to do errands and they stayed alone. Maybe it was the wrinkle in Mycroft’s coat that he found when he came back, something that he was sure Mycroft wouldn’t ordinarily permit. He could also swear there was a certain way that Sherlock would relax after each visit. Maybe one day he would discover exactly what was going on - but for now he needed to go to work, he thought, as he nodded to Mycroft on the way out.
***
The first thing Sherlock felt when coming out of his mind palace were the fingers over his eyes, closing them as they moved down his face, until they stopped over his lips, gently caressing with a single tip of a finger. Sherlock pushed his tongue out and swiped it over the finger before pulling it into his mouth. He hummed when he heard the catch of breath. Before he could smile in triumph his hair was tangled in long fingers and his head pulled back. He looked up at Mycroft and smiled this time at seeing the eyes full of heat and want.
This time it was he who let out a moan when his mouth was taken in a bruising kiss; he fought for dominance but gave it up, knowing that his brother would always take care of him, no matter who came out on top. He turned around in the chair and knelt on it, draping his arms around his brother’s shoulders and pulling him in for another kiss.
“I missed you,” Sherlock mumbled against Mycroft’s lips.
“And I you,” replied Mycroft.
Without giving Mycroft time to drop his suitcase Sherlock pulled him down the hallway to the bedroom and pushed him down until Mycroft was sitting on the bed. Sherlock took away the suitcase and dropped it near the door. With Mycroft gone so often they tried to make the best of their time together whenever they had the opportunity. Today was no exception, especially when they had so little time alone before John got back from work; maybe for others three hours was enough, but for them it was mere minutes. However, what counted was that they were alone and they had the time, and that was something Sherlock didn’t intend to let go to waste.
Standing in front of Mycroft, he pushed back his brother’s coat until it pooled on top of the bedspread. He continued to undress Mycroft, slowly at first, until the need to see and touch his body got to be too much. With the last shred of his patience gone, the slow process became a rush to get everything off as soon as possible. He wasn’t the only one with that desire to see and touch - by this point Mycroft’s patience was exhausted and he joined in the race, entangling clothes on arms and legs as the urgency to connect their bodies became irresistible. When at last they stood naked before each other, they didn’t wait a moment before their mouths crashed together and hands roamed over bodies and moans could be heard throughout the flat.
They had been so long without each other’s touch that the marks of ownership that each had left on the other’s body had faded to only a memory. But new marks were placed where old had been; hands remembered valleys and dips that brought forth moans; mouths were reacquainted with the taste of beloved skin. Maybe it was the urgency and the need to connect after so many weeks apart, but it wasn’t long before he was being prepared for penetration.
All thoughts fled from Sherlock’s mind as Mycroft entered him slowly. His body craved the touch and the release only his brother could give him. His brother’s touch was more addicting than any drug that Sherlock had taken. Mycroft gave him the control he sought and at the same time broke him into tiny pieces. Between them there were no secrets - Mycroft knew exactly what buttons to push and how to push them so he would break apart. How he liked to be dominated when he couldn’t even stand himself, and how in those times Mycroft would barely contain himself; how not even a second after John had left Mycroft would grab him and slam him against the nearest wall, taking his lips in a punishing, bruising kiss, while Sherlock wrapped his legs around Mycroft and pulled him closer, moaning.
In other moments Mycroft knew he wanted to be taken slowly, until he was a ball of need and all his body craved was release from the slow torment of Mycroft’s strategically placed touches.
But this time, the urgency was too much. Sherlock was so close he could feel it, and before he knew it, he was falling over that ledge and into the void of pleasure, with his brother’s name on his lips.
***
When John arrived later that day, nothing was out of place and everything looked exactly as it had before. With the exception that Mycroft was sitting in John’s chair and Sherlock was in his own with his violin in his hands. John would say that they looked exactly as he always remembered: Mycroft with a put-upon expression, and Sherlock doing everything he could to ignore and annoy him more. He stood there a little bit longer but when they didn’t acknowledge him, he shrugged and left to put his stuff away and get a towel to take a shower.
***
“Do you think he suspects something, brother dear?” Mycroft inquired.
“No, he doesn’t pay as much attention as he should,” said Sherlock.
“I do hope not,” Mycroft said, “because for a moment there, I would say he caught on.”
They both looked up as John came down and headed to the bathroom. Once he closed the door they turned back to each other and smirked.
“John would probably be the last person to ever find out,” Sherlock remarked, as he continued toying with his violin.
Recipient: dioscureantwins
Author: knowmefirst
Characters/Pairings: Mycroft/Sherlock, John Watson.
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, maybe OOC, incest, light mention of bdsm
Summary:The Holmes brother’s think no one knows what’s going on between them. However, there is one person that is beginning to suspect.
Notes: I have never written Holmescest before, so I hope I made it justice and it’s something you like. I want to say a big thank you to the mods for their awesome work and for helping me find a beta in the last minutes, and to my beta ficklepig for making this story what it is today, because without her the fic would be unreadable and honestly terrible. All other errors are mine!
There were many things that John didn’t see, and living with a famous detective who often pointed it out to him didn’t help. However, some things were pretty obvious, especially when it came to the Holmes brothers. Well, maybe not at the beginning - they didn’t act any different. The Holmes brothers fought, no surprise there; and as always, they also challenged each other just to see who could deduce faster. If John was honest, he enjoyed being present for that. Many times Sherlock came out the winner.
No, it wasn’t then that he noticed, but if he could place his finger on it, he would say something happened when he left to do errands and they stayed alone. Maybe it was the wrinkle in Mycroft’s coat that he found when he came back, something that he was sure Mycroft wouldn’t ordinarily permit. He could also swear there was a certain way that Sherlock would relax after each visit. Maybe one day he would discover exactly what was going on - but for now he needed to go to work, he thought, as he nodded to Mycroft on the way out.
***
The first thing Sherlock felt when coming out of his mind palace were the fingers over his eyes, closing them as they moved down his face, until they stopped over his lips, gently caressing with a single tip of a finger. Sherlock pushed his tongue out and swiped it over the finger before pulling it into his mouth. He hummed when he heard the catch of breath. Before he could smile in triumph his hair was tangled in long fingers and his head pulled back. He looked up at Mycroft and smiled this time at seeing the eyes full of heat and want.
This time it was he who let out a moan when his mouth was taken in a bruising kiss; he fought for dominance but gave it up, knowing that his brother would always take care of him, no matter who came out on top. He turned around in the chair and knelt on it, draping his arms around his brother’s shoulders and pulling him in for another kiss.
“I missed you,” Sherlock mumbled against Mycroft’s lips.
“And I you,” replied Mycroft.
Without giving Mycroft time to drop his suitcase Sherlock pulled him down the hallway to the bedroom and pushed him down until Mycroft was sitting on the bed. Sherlock took away the suitcase and dropped it near the door. With Mycroft gone so often they tried to make the best of their time together whenever they had the opportunity. Today was no exception, especially when they had so little time alone before John got back from work; maybe for others three hours was enough, but for them it was mere minutes. However, what counted was that they were alone and they had the time, and that was something Sherlock didn’t intend to let go to waste.
Standing in front of Mycroft, he pushed back his brother’s coat until it pooled on top of the bedspread. He continued to undress Mycroft, slowly at first, until the need to see and touch his body got to be too much. With the last shred of his patience gone, the slow process became a rush to get everything off as soon as possible. He wasn’t the only one with that desire to see and touch - by this point Mycroft’s patience was exhausted and he joined in the race, entangling clothes on arms and legs as the urgency to connect their bodies became irresistible. When at last they stood naked before each other, they didn’t wait a moment before their mouths crashed together and hands roamed over bodies and moans could be heard throughout the flat.
They had been so long without each other’s touch that the marks of ownership that each had left on the other’s body had faded to only a memory. But new marks were placed where old had been; hands remembered valleys and dips that brought forth moans; mouths were reacquainted with the taste of beloved skin. Maybe it was the urgency and the need to connect after so many weeks apart, but it wasn’t long before he was being prepared for penetration.
All thoughts fled from Sherlock’s mind as Mycroft entered him slowly. His body craved the touch and the release only his brother could give him. His brother’s touch was more addicting than any drug that Sherlock had taken. Mycroft gave him the control he sought and at the same time broke him into tiny pieces. Between them there were no secrets - Mycroft knew exactly what buttons to push and how to push them so he would break apart. How he liked to be dominated when he couldn’t even stand himself, and how in those times Mycroft would barely contain himself; how not even a second after John had left Mycroft would grab him and slam him against the nearest wall, taking his lips in a punishing, bruising kiss, while Sherlock wrapped his legs around Mycroft and pulled him closer, moaning.
In other moments Mycroft knew he wanted to be taken slowly, until he was a ball of need and all his body craved was release from the slow torment of Mycroft’s strategically placed touches.
But this time, the urgency was too much. Sherlock was so close he could feel it, and before he knew it, he was falling over that ledge and into the void of pleasure, with his brother’s name on his lips.
***
When John arrived later that day, nothing was out of place and everything looked exactly as it had before. With the exception that Mycroft was sitting in John’s chair and Sherlock was in his own with his violin in his hands. John would say that they looked exactly as he always remembered: Mycroft with a put-upon expression, and Sherlock doing everything he could to ignore and annoy him more. He stood there a little bit longer but when they didn’t acknowledge him, he shrugged and left to put his stuff away and get a towel to take a shower.
***
“Do you think he suspects something, brother dear?” Mycroft inquired.
“No, he doesn’t pay as much attention as he should,” said Sherlock.
“I do hope not,” Mycroft said, “because for a moment there, I would say he caught on.”
They both looked up as John came down and headed to the bathroom. Once he closed the door they turned back to each other and smirked.
“John would probably be the last person to ever find out,” Sherlock remarked, as he continued toying with his violin.