Fill: Chapter 3b
anonymous
December 27 2011, 10:48:29 UTC
They stayed in for the night at the house in Kensington. The food had been exceptional, spicy and aromatic Thai dishes, his favourite. There had also been a bottle of good Vodka, which he willingly indulged himself without much prompt from the other man.
He did caution himself that getting drunk at the presence of Mycroft was probably not a wise idea. But for an hour and two, the other man seemed to be content to just have an easy chat about absolutely everything and anything. And he couldn’t help but feel his own self control being worn down.
Lestrade blamed it on alcohol. Before he took notice, he was half draped over the younger man’s laps. Long fingers that didn’t belong to his own were between his silver hairs, moving downward, to his shoulders. Those hands had been so gentle. Their owner seemed to already been quite familiar with his body, because Lestrade felt himself going boneless quite quickly.
Mycroft was certainly capable of being the perfect companion when he chose to. He even talked about his high school life, his so called clumsy youth.
Apparently, like all other boys at his age, he was a hormonal mass. He could comprehend how the universe worked, and predicted where the stock market would go, but he inevitably felt so lost it came to his own body and its constant demand for attention and stimulation. And being educated in Eton and only surrounded by boys who were also experiencing similar symptoms didn’t help. In those days, to his own horror, his single goal in life was getting himself laid as soon as possible.
Then Mycroft, being his ever logical and sensible self, picked a different route in solving his problem - by booking himself a high class escort. Physical satisfaction and absence of emotional complication in such arrangements had worked for him quite well for many years. After all, while he had always been too time poor to invest in serious relationships, he did have plenty of money to spare.
Lestrade let himself busked in that soft voices, letting them form an image of the younger Mycroft - dressed in his black tailcoat, mottled-grey waistcoat, winged collars with bow ties; a picture of prestige and tradition, only marred by teenager awkwardness that he desperately wanted to hide.
Lestrade swore he did try to control himself, but he just couldn’t. He laughed so hard that he thought his lungs were going to collapse. And Mycroft’s indignant grumbles certainly didn’t help the matter at all. In the end, the man had chosen to shut up by forcing his own mouth on him.
Soon, he found himself sufficiently distracted from his previous thoughts. He let Mycroft slowly worked his way through his clothes, trailing kisses on his exposed skin as the man opened the buttons. He almost didn’t care, because Mycroft had been a damn good kisser he was so intoxicated already - only he was unsure whether he should blame alcohol or proximity to another human being.
“Come on, now you had your laugh. Tell me what your first time was like. You’ve got to share yours, just to be fair.”
That was what brought moment clarity to his hazy brain. So this would be the game of the night - little heart to heart session, and see what it would do to him.
He did caution himself that getting drunk at the presence of Mycroft was probably not a wise idea. But for an hour and two, the other man seemed to be content to just have an easy chat about absolutely everything and anything. And he couldn’t help but feel his own self control being worn down.
Lestrade blamed it on alcohol. Before he took notice, he was half draped over the younger man’s laps. Long fingers that didn’t belong to his own were between his silver hairs, moving downward, to his shoulders. Those hands had been so gentle. Their owner seemed to already been quite familiar with his body, because Lestrade felt himself going boneless quite quickly.
Mycroft was certainly capable of being the perfect companion when he chose to. He even talked about his high school life, his so called clumsy youth.
Apparently, like all other boys at his age, he was a hormonal mass. He could comprehend how the universe worked, and predicted where the stock market would go, but he inevitably felt so lost it came to his own body and its constant demand for attention and stimulation. And being educated in Eton and only surrounded by boys who were also experiencing similar symptoms didn’t help. In those days, to his own horror, his single goal in life was getting himself laid as soon as possible.
Then Mycroft, being his ever logical and sensible self, picked a different route in solving his problem - by booking himself a high class escort. Physical satisfaction and absence of emotional complication in such arrangements had worked for him quite well for many years. After all, while he had always been too time poor to invest in serious relationships, he did have plenty of money to spare.
Lestrade let himself busked in that soft voices, letting them form an image of the younger Mycroft - dressed in his black tailcoat, mottled-grey waistcoat, winged collars with bow ties; a picture of prestige and tradition, only marred by teenager awkwardness that he desperately wanted to hide.
Lestrade swore he did try to control himself, but he just couldn’t. He laughed so hard that he thought his lungs were going to collapse. And Mycroft’s indignant grumbles certainly didn’t help the matter at all. In the end, the man had chosen to shut up by forcing his own mouth on him.
Soon, he found himself sufficiently distracted from his previous thoughts. He let Mycroft slowly worked his way through his clothes, trailing kisses on his exposed skin as the man opened the buttons. He almost didn’t care, because Mycroft had been a damn good kisser he was so intoxicated already - only he was unsure whether he should blame alcohol or proximity to another human being.
“Come on, now you had your laugh. Tell me what your first time was like. You’ve got to share yours, just to be fair.”
That was what brought moment clarity to his hazy brain. So this would be the game of the night - little heart to heart session, and see what it would do to him.
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