FIC: Trust Is Still Key
Fic; Trust Is Still Key
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Author: dt_mad
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own these boys and I'm only allowed to look and not touch! They belong to people far more important than I am so please don't sue me.
Pairing: Mycroft / Lestrade
Prompt: This is written as a follow on to the prompt on sherlockbbc_fic : Mystrade - Lestrade in a collar
Rating: NC17 - for graphic sex
Notes: This follows on immedaitely after the wonderful Trust is Key by wastingyourgum which MUST be read first to understand this and can be found here http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=24436728#t24436728
I have to thank wastingyourgum for allowing me to take up where she left off and I only hope I have done the original justice. I must also thank the ever patient Dr. D for the swift beta.
**********
The momentary silence that filled the room was heavy with expectancy.
Mycroft bent low and kissed Greg. It was a kiss that was filled with possessiveness, filled with the promise of so much more that Greg felt the air rush from his lungs. He allowed the soft lips to posses him; he allowed the surprisingly strong grip on his arms to leave marks that he knew would show for days to come and he quivered with the excitement of what might yet be to come.
Mycroft Holmes was a man who had more power and influence in his working life than almost anybody. He held the confidence of Prime Ministers, Governors and even despots (if he had to) and he could bring Governments to heel with just a word. But what he had been given tonight was a power, a control that was so total that, used wrongly, it could lose him everything he cared most deeply about. He promised himself that he would never let that happen, he would never abuse the trust that Greg had placed in his care and together they would treasure this gift. Mycroft stepped away, desperate to regain control, desperate not to fuck Greg into the carpet where he knelt. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock on the mantle.
60 minutes - 1 hour - all that was left of his birthday.
“Anything I like?” he asked, trailing a long manicured finger along the length of leather at Greg’s throat.
Greg couldn’t answer. Mycroft took the silence as an agreement.
“Put your head here,” he indicated to a spot on the floor just in front of his feet. “And close your eyes…Gregory.”
Mycroft noted the way that, at the use of his name, Lestrade had shuddered and allowed a sound that was part moan and part whimper to escape his lips.
“Don’t look, don’t think, just let your feelings free, relax and just…deduce.” The way he drew out that word was almost enough to make Lestrade come where he knelt. “What I might be doing, what I might be going to do.”
Mycroft would swear that he could FEEL the way Lestrade reacted to his words. The hitch in his breath, the tightening of his body as he placed his head against the floor.
“If I even think for one second that you tried to open your eyes then I will punish you, in ways that you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Do you understand me?”
Lestrade was as hard as he had ever been. His whole body was more alive than he could ever remember it being. Every word, every touch was magnified. This was so much more than he had ever imagined it could be.
"Answer me Gregory"
“My…” Lestrade was so lost in a morass of emotions that even simple words seemed like something far more complex than he could imagine.
“No….when we are…,” Mycroft paused trying to formulate the correct words that would put this experience into something he could assimilate into his normally ordered and regulated existence. He couldn’t find them, for the first time in a life that had been prescribed and expected since birth Mycroft Holmes was in a place that was unfamiliar to him. And he loved it….every second of it was to be treasured. His thoughts raced around his head until he pulled them back, back into something he could control. “You will call me Sir. Is that clear?”
“Yes…yes…Sir.” For Lestrade it hadn’t even been a conscious thought to do what Mycroft had asked of him. As he knelt on the plush carpet of Mycroft’s house he had closed his eyes and tried to do what had been asked of him. He listened and he felt and all he got in return was the sound of his own racing heart and the thrumming aching throb of his own desires. But as he knelt there in the encroaching silence he realized that he could hear. He could hear Mycroft slowly undressing, carefully placing his clothes neatly in one place being…Mycroft… a man who had more secrets than it would take a lifetime to unveil. He could hear the clink of ice in a glass, the grind of a glass stopper and the smooth gurgle of liquid being poured. Even with his eyes closed he could see Mycroft in his mind sipping carefully at the malt whisky and wanted so badly to taste it with him, taste it off his lips as they kissed.
“It is about anticipation as much as execution,” Mycroft told him, swirling the ice against the sides of his glass as he padded as silently as he could around the room. From every angle the kneeling…submissive… form of DI Gregory Lestrade was a picture to behold. He could see how Lestrade tried to follow his voice, how he fought the urge to open his eyes. He could see Lestrade’s cock hard and heavy below him, leaking pre-cum and just for a moment wondered if it would be too cruel to leave him that way all night.
“Beautiful,” he said as he took an ice cube from his glass and ran it down Lestrade’s spine, the ice melted on contact, leaving wet tracks across his taut skin.
The cold shocked a squeal out of Lestrade and then the warm touch of Mycroft’s lips and tongue as he kissed and lapped away the cold dampness made him moan with the intense intimacy of the moment. Cold was followed by warmth, ice with fire and Lestrade wanted nothing more than break his position, to slip free of his bonds and to grab Mycroft and fuck him until he begged for it to stop. But he had promised….God why had he done that?
“I want you…so bad…need you my…,” he heard the low tut of disapproval and quickly corrected himself. “Sir.”
“Better…now you were trying to tell me something Gregory, please continue.”
Lestrade knew he could hear the smile in Mycroft’s voice and he lowered his voice to a throaty lust filled whisper. “I want you”
“You want me to what? How am I supposed to know what you want from me if you don’t elucidate.” He rolled the word off his tongue managing to make it sound both sexy and dirty at the same time.
‘Bastard,’ Lestrade thought ‘devious, sneaky bastard.’ Well if he wanted to hear him beg to be fucked then he’d have a long wait.
His resolve not to beg lasted until the second that Mycroft ran the ice cube between the cheeks of his arse and slid a wet finger against him, teasing at his entrance, brushing against him with the promise of pleasures yet to come.
“Please Sir,” briefly he was aware how, just at that moment, the word ‘Sir’ sounded SO right. “I want you to…,” the right word was ‘fuck’ me but it seemed so coarse, so unlike the word he should find but as he felt the simultaneous actions of Mycroft undoing the tie that had held his hands bound and slipping two cool fingers inside him he could think of no other. What he wanted was to have Mycroft fuck him, use him, take him in any way that he wanted. He wanted to remember this night every time he sat down for the rest of the week and so ‘fuck’ was the word he used.
“No need to be coarse Gregory,” Mycroft’s tone was not as admonishing as he had wanted it to be. “There are many ways to ask me for what you need.” He twisted his fingers inside of Lestrade grazing against his prostate and eliciting a strangled whimper from him. “Now, onto your hands and knees and then ask me again.”
Lestrade was into the required position in a flash, pushing himself back against the fingers that were inside him as he settled himself. He raised his head from the floor, feeling the cool trickle of sweat at his hairline.
“Fuck me Sir,” he told him, lowering his voice to allow the full brogue of his accent to come through. “Please just fuck me.” Greg knew his words would infuriate Mycroft and that gave him just a little spark of pleasure deep inside.
A sharp slap against Lestrade’s backside was perfectly timed to coincide with the next time that Mycroft twisted his fingers inside him and the two sensations took Lestrade to the very edge of his pleasure. There was a chink of ice and then Mycroft‘s hand curled around Lestrade and took a gentle yet firm grip of his cock. The ice in his hand slid back and forth along the hard length, melting slowly against the hot skin until a small pool of water had formed on the carpet beneath them. How he didn’t come there and then he would never fully understand.
“You told me you thought this gift was a win- win thing,” Mycroft carefully withdrew his fingers and gently teased the head of his cock against Lestrade’s arse, smiling as he saw how Lestrade pushed back against him, desperate for his touch again. “Maybe it is, but for now you are forbidden to come until I tell you to.”
“What?!!” Lestrade couldn’t believe what he was hearing he was already SO close to an orgasm and Mycroft hadn’t even started fucking him yet.
“Forbidden,” Mycroft reiterated as with a single swift powerful stroke he buried himself balls deep in Lestrade with a groan that sent a shiver through both men. Mycroft set a agonizingly slow rhythm, pulling his cock almost all the way out and then snapping his hips and driving himself so deep inside Lestrade that neither man could utter more than a whimpered moan of pleasure.
Minute after minute the time edged closer towards midnight and yet Mycroft didn’t change his pace, punishing Lestrade with slow teasing thrusts that pushed him closer and closer to an orgasm that was still denied to him. He allowed Lestrade to mumble and curse and threaten and beg, later he would teach him what ‘no talking’ really meant. The thrill for him was as much in the power he had over Lestrade as it was in the delicious way his cock felt as it slid with ease in and out of his lover.
Lestrade was beyond words now, beyond all but irrational thoughts. He tried to think of anything he could to distract from the way that Mycroft was making him feel. He ran through crime statistics, football results, the names of every Arsenal squad member he could remember from the last five seasons. It worked, but only just…each time the hard cock that filled him pushed against his prostate he thought this time would be the one when he couldn’t hold back any longer. And yet he did, he did because more than his own orgasm he wanted to please Mycroft, he wanted to obey Mycroft.
The clock above the fireplace showed 11.45pm when Mycroft slid free from Lestrade.
“Roll onto your back please Gregory, I want to see your face when I come inside you,” he told him, his own voice changed from normal by the emotions that coursed through him.
Lestrade rolled off shaking limbs and onto his back, sweat flattened his chest hair against his skin and his face was flushed with the effort of holding back his own orgasm and yet Mycroft thought that he had never looked more beautiful than he did now. Wanton, desperate, hard and his!
Mycroft pulled an expensive silk cushion off the sofa and slid it under Lestrade’s arse raising him up just a little off the floor. He hitched one of Lestrade’s legs around his own waist and finding the perfect angle was once more buried deep inside Lestrade with his first stroke. This time though there was no finesse, no slow building rhythm, just fast, hard, almost angry thrusts.
Mycroft wasn’t a big man and yet he possessed Lestrade with every powerful stroke inside him. He clawed at his skin with his fingers and left bruises and scratches that would be there for days to come. He took him, took them both, to the edge of their orgasms with a raw power that left Lestrade with a new found respect for Mycroft.
Lestrade’s own hands pulled Mycroft towards him, allowing him to get so very, very deep inside him. He writhed and squirmed as best as he could under the relentless assault from Mycroft, trying to give them both the best sensations each and every time Mycroft drove himself hard against Lestrade’s body. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man; it seemed as if his gift had unleashed a side of Mycroft that he hadn’t ever suspected existed.
As the antique clock above the fireplace struck the first chime of midnight, Mycroft stilled and then with a quietness that somehow seemed so out of place and yet so perfect he rolled his hips and allowed his orgasm to overtake him. His cock pulsed and pulsed inside Lestrade, filling him. He could feel the quivering clenching of Lestrade’s muscles as he helped him to an orgasm so strong he thought he might just pass out.
“Shit…,” Lestrade couldn’t help the word; he didn’t think that he had ever been so thoroughly fucked in a long time. He was aware that Mycroft was watching him, had been watching him since they rolled over, and as he felt the seemingly endless pulsing of Mycroft’s cock as he came inside him he broke into a grin that reached all the way to the unexpected tears in his eyes.
Another chime from the clock and Lestrade didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He just knew that very, very soon he was going to come and seemingly, so did Mycroft.
“Do you want to come Gregory?” he asked teasingly running a finger across Lestrade’s balls and up the underside of his cock.
“Yes Sir, please…please…”
“Then you may come now,” he told him as the final chime from the clock signaled the end of the day.
Lestrade didn’t need to be told again, he let his mind free of the thoughts he had used to hold off his orgasm and without the need for another word or another touch he came harder than he had ever done in his life. He thought that he may have seen stars behind his eyes and he knew that he’d screamed Mycroft’s name as his orgasm spurted from him coating them both with hot sticky semen.
Neither of them was capable of movement or speech or even coherent thought, they were physically and mentally spent. Their bodies were boneless, their muscles unresponsive and all they could do was to fall against each other in a tangle of sweat dampened limbs and hold each other until the cool of the room settled into their bones.
Lestrade finally found the strength to move and rolled free of Mycroft and onto his side where he could admire what he saw. Mycroft was only half awake, his eyes heavy lidded and his breathing shallow and on the edge of sleep. Lestrade reached out, stroking his fingers gently down Mycroft’s torso, tracing small circles in the fine hairs of his chest and following the splashes of his own now dried semen against the pale skin. Mycroft just moaned and rolled into the touch.
As tempting as it was for Lestrade to just lie there and watch as Mycroft went to sleep against him, a bed, Mycroft’s bed seemed a better option, so he forced himself to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his own body. He hauled a barely responsive Mycroft off the floor and into his arms and half carried him upstairs to the shower. As he walked he was aware that his knees and elbows and back were sore from the friction of the carpet against his skin. He was perversely proud of the fact that he had carpet burns, just like a horny teenager. He was also aware that thanks to a darker side of Mycroft he would get his wish to be able to remember tonight every time he sat on his sore arse!
Mycroft’s bathroom was very big and had everything in it, including a large walk in rainforest shower area. Lestrade set the water running and as it cascaded over the two of them, he poured Mycroft’s expensive shower lotion into his hands and with firm and yet careful actions washed Mycroft from head to toe. By the time he was finished both men were half hard again. Mycroft allowed Lestrade to dry him and then lead him to the bed where the cool of the silk sheets was a welcome embrace.
No words had been spoken since they had come and yet no words had been needed. Lestrade was telling Mycroft all that needed to be said with his actions. He told him that he loved him, loved being with him, loved belonging to him and he knew that Mycroft understood.
“I always hope that I will know when we need this,” Mycroft said as he stroked the leather around Lestrade’s neck. “But if I don’t, if you ever need this, then you mustn’t be afraid to ask me for it. I may not always give it to you, but you must ask me and you must understand that I will always do what I think is best for you, for us. Do you understand Gregory?”
Mycroft felt Lestrade shiver against his chest as he spoke and he looked down at the man curled against him and saw the depth of his feelings laid bare in the brown eyes that greeted him.
“Yes Sir,” a warm breath against his skin. “Thank you Sir.” A gentle kiss pressed against the fine hairs of his chest
.
“Then for now it is time.” Gently he reached out for the box that held the key to the padlock and with great care and reverence undid the lock, loosed the buckle and slid the collar from around Greg’s neck. He curled it into his hand, feeling the warmth of Greg’s skin still held in its length and gently raised it to his lips. A chaste kiss and then he placed the collar and the key beside the bed. Mentally he made a note to get a proper case made for it, one that befitted such a precious gift.
“Thank you, that was the most unexpected gift and certainly the one I shall treasure above everything.”
Greg felt the loss of the collar as sharply as if it had been a limb and he wanted to reach out and take it back, feel its weight back around his neck with all that it symbolized. Yet he knew that he trusted Mycroft, after all that was what his gift had been.
He knew his love and his trust couldn’t be in safer hands.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Author: dt_mad
Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own these boys and I'm only allowed to look and not touch! They belong to people far more important than I am so please don't sue me.
Pairing: Mycroft / Lestrade
Prompt: This is written as a follow on to the prompt on sherlockbbc_fic : Mystrade - Lestrade in a collar
Rating: NC17 - for graphic sex
Notes: This follows on immedaitely after the wonderful Trust is Key by wastingyourgum which MUST be read first to understand this and can be found here http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5880.html?thread=24436728#t24436728
I have to thank wastingyourgum for allowing me to take up where she left off and I only hope I have done the original justice. I must also thank the ever patient Dr. D for the swift beta.
**********
The momentary silence that filled the room was heavy with expectancy.
Mycroft bent low and kissed Greg. It was a kiss that was filled with possessiveness, filled with the promise of so much more that Greg felt the air rush from his lungs. He allowed the soft lips to posses him; he allowed the surprisingly strong grip on his arms to leave marks that he knew would show for days to come and he quivered with the excitement of what might yet be to come.
Mycroft Holmes was a man who had more power and influence in his working life than almost anybody. He held the confidence of Prime Ministers, Governors and even despots (if he had to) and he could bring Governments to heel with just a word. But what he had been given tonight was a power, a control that was so total that, used wrongly, it could lose him everything he cared most deeply about. He promised himself that he would never let that happen, he would never abuse the trust that Greg had placed in his care and together they would treasure this gift. Mycroft stepped away, desperate to regain control, desperate not to fuck Greg into the carpet where he knelt. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock on the mantle.
60 minutes - 1 hour - all that was left of his birthday.
“Anything I like?” he asked, trailing a long manicured finger along the length of leather at Greg’s throat.
Greg couldn’t answer. Mycroft took the silence as an agreement.
“Put your head here,” he indicated to a spot on the floor just in front of his feet. “And close your eyes…Gregory.”
Mycroft noted the way that, at the use of his name, Lestrade had shuddered and allowed a sound that was part moan and part whimper to escape his lips.
“Don’t look, don’t think, just let your feelings free, relax and just…deduce.” The way he drew out that word was almost enough to make Lestrade come where he knelt. “What I might be doing, what I might be going to do.”
Mycroft would swear that he could FEEL the way Lestrade reacted to his words. The hitch in his breath, the tightening of his body as he placed his head against the floor.
“If I even think for one second that you tried to open your eyes then I will punish you, in ways that you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Do you understand me?”
Lestrade was as hard as he had ever been. His whole body was more alive than he could ever remember it being. Every word, every touch was magnified. This was so much more than he had ever imagined it could be.
"Answer me Gregory"
“My…” Lestrade was so lost in a morass of emotions that even simple words seemed like something far more complex than he could imagine.
“No….when we are…,” Mycroft paused trying to formulate the correct words that would put this experience into something he could assimilate into his normally ordered and regulated existence. He couldn’t find them, for the first time in a life that had been prescribed and expected since birth Mycroft Holmes was in a place that was unfamiliar to him. And he loved it….every second of it was to be treasured. His thoughts raced around his head until he pulled them back, back into something he could control. “You will call me Sir. Is that clear?”
“Yes…yes…Sir.” For Lestrade it hadn’t even been a conscious thought to do what Mycroft had asked of him. As he knelt on the plush carpet of Mycroft’s house he had closed his eyes and tried to do what had been asked of him. He listened and he felt and all he got in return was the sound of his own racing heart and the thrumming aching throb of his own desires. But as he knelt there in the encroaching silence he realized that he could hear. He could hear Mycroft slowly undressing, carefully placing his clothes neatly in one place being…Mycroft… a man who had more secrets than it would take a lifetime to unveil. He could hear the clink of ice in a glass, the grind of a glass stopper and the smooth gurgle of liquid being poured. Even with his eyes closed he could see Mycroft in his mind sipping carefully at the malt whisky and wanted so badly to taste it with him, taste it off his lips as they kissed.
“It is about anticipation as much as execution,” Mycroft told him, swirling the ice against the sides of his glass as he padded as silently as he could around the room. From every angle the kneeling…submissive… form of DI Gregory Lestrade was a picture to behold. He could see how Lestrade tried to follow his voice, how he fought the urge to open his eyes. He could see Lestrade’s cock hard and heavy below him, leaking pre-cum and just for a moment wondered if it would be too cruel to leave him that way all night.
“Beautiful,” he said as he took an ice cube from his glass and ran it down Lestrade’s spine, the ice melted on contact, leaving wet tracks across his taut skin.
The cold shocked a squeal out of Lestrade and then the warm touch of Mycroft’s lips and tongue as he kissed and lapped away the cold dampness made him moan with the intense intimacy of the moment. Cold was followed by warmth, ice with fire and Lestrade wanted nothing more than break his position, to slip free of his bonds and to grab Mycroft and fuck him until he begged for it to stop. But he had promised….God why had he done that?
“I want you…so bad…need you my…,” he heard the low tut of disapproval and quickly corrected himself. “Sir.”
“Better…now you were trying to tell me something Gregory, please continue.”
Lestrade knew he could hear the smile in Mycroft’s voice and he lowered his voice to a throaty lust filled whisper. “I want you”
“You want me to what? How am I supposed to know what you want from me if you don’t elucidate.” He rolled the word off his tongue managing to make it sound both sexy and dirty at the same time.
‘Bastard,’ Lestrade thought ‘devious, sneaky bastard.’ Well if he wanted to hear him beg to be fucked then he’d have a long wait.
His resolve not to beg lasted until the second that Mycroft ran the ice cube between the cheeks of his arse and slid a wet finger against him, teasing at his entrance, brushing against him with the promise of pleasures yet to come.
“Please Sir,” briefly he was aware how, just at that moment, the word ‘Sir’ sounded SO right. “I want you to…,” the right word was ‘fuck’ me but it seemed so coarse, so unlike the word he should find but as he felt the simultaneous actions of Mycroft undoing the tie that had held his hands bound and slipping two cool fingers inside him he could think of no other. What he wanted was to have Mycroft fuck him, use him, take him in any way that he wanted. He wanted to remember this night every time he sat down for the rest of the week and so ‘fuck’ was the word he used.
“No need to be coarse Gregory,” Mycroft’s tone was not as admonishing as he had wanted it to be. “There are many ways to ask me for what you need.” He twisted his fingers inside of Lestrade grazing against his prostate and eliciting a strangled whimper from him. “Now, onto your hands and knees and then ask me again.”
Lestrade was into the required position in a flash, pushing himself back against the fingers that were inside him as he settled himself. He raised his head from the floor, feeling the cool trickle of sweat at his hairline.
“Fuck me Sir,” he told him, lowering his voice to allow the full brogue of his accent to come through. “Please just fuck me.” Greg knew his words would infuriate Mycroft and that gave him just a little spark of pleasure deep inside.
A sharp slap against Lestrade’s backside was perfectly timed to coincide with the next time that Mycroft twisted his fingers inside him and the two sensations took Lestrade to the very edge of his pleasure. There was a chink of ice and then Mycroft‘s hand curled around Lestrade and took a gentle yet firm grip of his cock. The ice in his hand slid back and forth along the hard length, melting slowly against the hot skin until a small pool of water had formed on the carpet beneath them. How he didn’t come there and then he would never fully understand.
“You told me you thought this gift was a win- win thing,” Mycroft carefully withdrew his fingers and gently teased the head of his cock against Lestrade’s arse, smiling as he saw how Lestrade pushed back against him, desperate for his touch again. “Maybe it is, but for now you are forbidden to come until I tell you to.”
“What?!!” Lestrade couldn’t believe what he was hearing he was already SO close to an orgasm and Mycroft hadn’t even started fucking him yet.
“Forbidden,” Mycroft reiterated as with a single swift powerful stroke he buried himself balls deep in Lestrade with a groan that sent a shiver through both men. Mycroft set a agonizingly slow rhythm, pulling his cock almost all the way out and then snapping his hips and driving himself so deep inside Lestrade that neither man could utter more than a whimpered moan of pleasure.
Minute after minute the time edged closer towards midnight and yet Mycroft didn’t change his pace, punishing Lestrade with slow teasing thrusts that pushed him closer and closer to an orgasm that was still denied to him. He allowed Lestrade to mumble and curse and threaten and beg, later he would teach him what ‘no talking’ really meant. The thrill for him was as much in the power he had over Lestrade as it was in the delicious way his cock felt as it slid with ease in and out of his lover.
Lestrade was beyond words now, beyond all but irrational thoughts. He tried to think of anything he could to distract from the way that Mycroft was making him feel. He ran through crime statistics, football results, the names of every Arsenal squad member he could remember from the last five seasons. It worked, but only just…each time the hard cock that filled him pushed against his prostate he thought this time would be the one when he couldn’t hold back any longer. And yet he did, he did because more than his own orgasm he wanted to please Mycroft, he wanted to obey Mycroft.
The clock above the fireplace showed 11.45pm when Mycroft slid free from Lestrade.
“Roll onto your back please Gregory, I want to see your face when I come inside you,” he told him, his own voice changed from normal by the emotions that coursed through him.
Lestrade rolled off shaking limbs and onto his back, sweat flattened his chest hair against his skin and his face was flushed with the effort of holding back his own orgasm and yet Mycroft thought that he had never looked more beautiful than he did now. Wanton, desperate, hard and his!
Mycroft pulled an expensive silk cushion off the sofa and slid it under Lestrade’s arse raising him up just a little off the floor. He hitched one of Lestrade’s legs around his own waist and finding the perfect angle was once more buried deep inside Lestrade with his first stroke. This time though there was no finesse, no slow building rhythm, just fast, hard, almost angry thrusts.
Mycroft wasn’t a big man and yet he possessed Lestrade with every powerful stroke inside him. He clawed at his skin with his fingers and left bruises and scratches that would be there for days to come. He took him, took them both, to the edge of their orgasms with a raw power that left Lestrade with a new found respect for Mycroft.
Lestrade’s own hands pulled Mycroft towards him, allowing him to get so very, very deep inside him. He writhed and squirmed as best as he could under the relentless assault from Mycroft, trying to give them both the best sensations each and every time Mycroft drove himself hard against Lestrade’s body. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man; it seemed as if his gift had unleashed a side of Mycroft that he hadn’t ever suspected existed.
As the antique clock above the fireplace struck the first chime of midnight, Mycroft stilled and then with a quietness that somehow seemed so out of place and yet so perfect he rolled his hips and allowed his orgasm to overtake him. His cock pulsed and pulsed inside Lestrade, filling him. He could feel the quivering clenching of Lestrade’s muscles as he helped him to an orgasm so strong he thought he might just pass out.
“Shit…,” Lestrade couldn’t help the word; he didn’t think that he had ever been so thoroughly fucked in a long time. He was aware that Mycroft was watching him, had been watching him since they rolled over, and as he felt the seemingly endless pulsing of Mycroft’s cock as he came inside him he broke into a grin that reached all the way to the unexpected tears in his eyes.
Another chime from the clock and Lestrade didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He just knew that very, very soon he was going to come and seemingly, so did Mycroft.
“Do you want to come Gregory?” he asked teasingly running a finger across Lestrade’s balls and up the underside of his cock.
“Yes Sir, please…please…”
“Then you may come now,” he told him as the final chime from the clock signaled the end of the day.
Lestrade didn’t need to be told again, he let his mind free of the thoughts he had used to hold off his orgasm and without the need for another word or another touch he came harder than he had ever done in his life. He thought that he may have seen stars behind his eyes and he knew that he’d screamed Mycroft’s name as his orgasm spurted from him coating them both with hot sticky semen.
Neither of them was capable of movement or speech or even coherent thought, they were physically and mentally spent. Their bodies were boneless, their muscles unresponsive and all they could do was to fall against each other in a tangle of sweat dampened limbs and hold each other until the cool of the room settled into their bones.
Lestrade finally found the strength to move and rolled free of Mycroft and onto his side where he could admire what he saw. Mycroft was only half awake, his eyes heavy lidded and his breathing shallow and on the edge of sleep. Lestrade reached out, stroking his fingers gently down Mycroft’s torso, tracing small circles in the fine hairs of his chest and following the splashes of his own now dried semen against the pale skin. Mycroft just moaned and rolled into the touch.
As tempting as it was for Lestrade to just lie there and watch as Mycroft went to sleep against him, a bed, Mycroft’s bed seemed a better option, so he forced himself to his feet and stretched the kinks out of his own body. He hauled a barely responsive Mycroft off the floor and into his arms and half carried him upstairs to the shower. As he walked he was aware that his knees and elbows and back were sore from the friction of the carpet against his skin. He was perversely proud of the fact that he had carpet burns, just like a horny teenager. He was also aware that thanks to a darker side of Mycroft he would get his wish to be able to remember tonight every time he sat on his sore arse!
Mycroft’s bathroom was very big and had everything in it, including a large walk in rainforest shower area. Lestrade set the water running and as it cascaded over the two of them, he poured Mycroft’s expensive shower lotion into his hands and with firm and yet careful actions washed Mycroft from head to toe. By the time he was finished both men were half hard again. Mycroft allowed Lestrade to dry him and then lead him to the bed where the cool of the silk sheets was a welcome embrace.
No words had been spoken since they had come and yet no words had been needed. Lestrade was telling Mycroft all that needed to be said with his actions. He told him that he loved him, loved being with him, loved belonging to him and he knew that Mycroft understood.
“I always hope that I will know when we need this,” Mycroft said as he stroked the leather around Lestrade’s neck. “But if I don’t, if you ever need this, then you mustn’t be afraid to ask me for it. I may not always give it to you, but you must ask me and you must understand that I will always do what I think is best for you, for us. Do you understand Gregory?”
Mycroft felt Lestrade shiver against his chest as he spoke and he looked down at the man curled against him and saw the depth of his feelings laid bare in the brown eyes that greeted him.
“Yes Sir,” a warm breath against his skin. “Thank you Sir.” A gentle kiss pressed against the fine hairs of his chest
.
“Then for now it is time.” Gently he reached out for the box that held the key to the padlock and with great care and reverence undid the lock, loosed the buckle and slid the collar from around Greg’s neck. He curled it into his hand, feeling the warmth of Greg’s skin still held in its length and gently raised it to his lips. A chaste kiss and then he placed the collar and the key beside the bed. Mentally he made a note to get a proper case made for it, one that befitted such a precious gift.
“Thank you, that was the most unexpected gift and certainly the one I shall treasure above everything.”
Greg felt the loss of the collar as sharply as if it had been a limb and he wanted to reach out and take it back, feel its weight back around his neck with all that it symbolized. Yet he knew that he trusted Mycroft, after all that was what his gift had been.
He knew his love and his trust couldn’t be in safer hands.