Re: Dirty Little Secret 5/? velvet_maceNovember 8 2010, 18:57:05 UTC
"Hmm. And how far are you willing to go with this charade? What if I were to ask for access to your bank accounts."
"It would please me very much if you did. Then I wouldn't worry nearly so much about you and Sherlock being properly fed and equipped."
"And if I wanted to show up and see you at work - just because?"
"Unless I was steeped in a matter of great urgency, I should very much enjoy you stealing me away."
"What if I were to announce our relationship, put a notice in the paper."
"Sherlock's brain would probably explode and I imagine there would be a magnificent row about it. Your Mary would likely never speak to you again. Your friends from work would be a bit surprised - but only in the fact that you married me rather than Sherlock. My life would not be altered a bit."
Mycroft leaned forward, mischief in his eyes. "Shall we do it? It could be fun." Then before John could answer, he leaned back again. "No, of course, not. It was just meant to get a rise out of me."
John narrowed his eyes. "And what if I expect conjugal rights?"
Mycroft didn't skip a beat. "Then I would take you home with me after this meal and spend the rest of the afternoon pleasuring you senseless." Mycroft's eyes glowed.
John felt a sudden hot surge through his body. Suddenly he felt very vulnerable. Far too many possibilities flashed through his mind in the next second. His face flushed deeply. "Mycroft… I'm not actually…"
"I know," said Mycroft with a small sigh of disappointment. "You are just testing to see how far I would go. How real I'd make this. I hope you have your answer. But don't be so alarmed, I am very patient and am willing to wait as long as you wish to consummate the relationship."
John's jumper seemed tight around his neck. As he stretched it a noise shocked both of them. The door opened and a server came in with a platter hoisted on her shoulder. Never had John been more grateful to be interrupted.
Re: Dirty Little Secret 6/? velvet_maceNovember 8 2010, 18:58:00 UTC
The next course turned out to be roast rack of lamb with anchovies, garlic and artichokes. They spent a few minutes tucking into their food. The portions were small and artfully arranged about the plate, but every bite was amazing. It was possibly the best meal John had ever eaten. It was only after they'd worked their way through most of it that the conversation resumed.
"May I ask what your biggest reservation is?" Mycroft took a sip of his wine.
"That you didn't ask first. You made a pretty sizable life decision for me and didn't even bother to inform me until months after the fact."
"I thought so. But done is done and no harm has come of it." Mycroft leaned back and rubbed his hand slowly over the bowl of his glass. "And your second reservation."
"I'm heterosexual."
"Except for that time when you weren't."
John decided abruptly not to ask how Mycroft knew. Like Sherlock, Mycroft made a point of knowing everything about the things that interested him. The irony was that the situation "that one time" wasn't too different from the one he was in now. His dorm mate at Barts was much brighter and more talented than him. Though not the level of genius that Sherlock and Mycroft were, he'd certainly thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. John found Steven fascinating; Steven had found him convenient. One thing lead to another…
"Everyone experiments at uni. And it was more his idea to have sex than mine."
"I see. No, I don't doubt you."
John snorted. "It wasn't exactly marriage material. It barely counted as friends with benefits. We never told anyone."
"You never told anyone," Mycroft corrected. "You do have an extraordinary talent for dealing with insufferable people. It's very much a part of your appeal."
"And it's neither here nor there," said John.
Abruptly, Mycroft took his serviette off his lap and stood up. John wondered if he might have said something wrong, but running his mind through the conversation he couldn't find any reason why Mycroft would be upset. Himself, maybe.
John stood automatically, clutching for the linen square as it fell off his lap. When he looked up again, Mycroft had come into his personal space and was looking down at him from inches away.
"Mycr-" John said, then his mouth was covered. A large warm hand carded through the hair at the back of his neck. Another, wrapped around his back, gently pulling him forward into Mycroft's chest. The kiss was gentle but insistent, taking in his upper lip, then a bit of tongue slipping in slyly. Tentatively he kissed back, savoring the texture of his lips, the smell of his aftershave. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed him. And no one had ever done it this carefully or thoroughly before.
John gasped and pulled away far, far too late to pretend that he hadn't enjoyed it. Mycroft's lips drifted to the side of his throat, under his ear. There they nipped gently. "Oh-" John gasped. "Okay, you-you've proved your ta-talented at this."
"The advantages of being observant," murmured Mycroft in his ear, "Is that it becomes very easy to notice just what areas provoke what reactions." And with that he licked the cup of John's ear and nearly sent him to the floor. It was as if all the bones in his body had turned to rubber and his entire concentration was caught up in that one singular sensation. "Imagine now what I could do if I had access to the rest of your body," Mycroft breathed.
"Nnnngh," was all John could muster up. His cock felt hot and needy.
Mycroft released him and John let out a small sob of disappointment. Then his mind returned to him. "My god," he managed.
"Do sit down before you stumble, please," said Mycroft moving back to his end of the table. "They will be bringing our desert any moment. You may want to compose yourself a bit, though I do enjoy the look on your face right now."
John tugged his jumper and rubbed his face with his hands. He willed his crotch to quiet down and behave. "God," he repeated. "What was that for?"
Re: Dirty Little Secret 7/7velvet_maceNovember 8 2010, 18:58:53 UTC
The door opened up and the server took away their dishes. She returned soon after with coffee and cups of crème brulee. John found his serviette on the floor and placed it across his lap again. Then tasted the dish. He couldn't get the memory of Mycroft's kiss away. It sent little thrills of pleasure through him.
"I should be furious at you," John said. "Absolutely furious."
"But you aren't," replied Mycroft with utter certainty.
"No, I'm not," he admitted with a sigh. "I've a terrible weakness for Holmeses. It's going to get me into horrible amounts of trouble one day."
"One day? I should say it already has."
"True." John snorted. "So shall I assume that our faux-partnership isn't going to go away, no matter how much I protest?" John let his fingers touch the spot on his neck where Mycroft had kissed. It still tingled.
"You can be utterly certain of that," said Mycroft amicably.
"You really do take possessiveness to new heights. I should be scared of you."
"But you aren't."
"I'm a nutter," admitted John.
Mycroft sat up straighter. "Which reminds me." He reached down and brought his red briefcase up. Snapping open the lid, he reached in and drew out a velvet jewelry box. He laid it on the table between them.
Hesitantly, John reached out and took it, flipping the lid up. Inside was a wide band of white gold with a square cut diamond set deeply into it. It matched the one that Mycroft had been wearing for weeks or maybe months.
"You are proposing? Is that what this lunch is really all about? Doesn't this seem a bit… moot… considering?"
"The parts maybe out of order, but isn't it more important that they all end up being there in the end." Mycroft's eyes seemed to plead. "Eventually we might make it back to point to first glances across the room and tentative flirting."
John flipped the lid back down and handed it back. "How about we stick to moving forward from this point on. We can try dating. See how it goes." Giving Mycroft a tolerant smile he added, "Maybe you'll convince me to wear your ring. I don't know. But from now on, let's try to make everything real."
Mycroft glowed as if John had handed him a Christmas present.
Re: Dirty Little Secret 7/7velvet_maceNovember 8 2010, 20:13:17 UTC
Mycroft is *such* a Holmes. :D I really like how John is only slightly weirded out by this, and then he just sort of goes with it--that's very him.
Would it be horribly wrong of me to ask for a sequel? Or, okay, I'll just say that if you ever wanted to write more, you know, like the whole dating thing, and John making Mycroft jump through metaphorical hoops to prove it's all really real, and Mycroft being very patient about it until John's nearly killed (again) running around with Sherlock, at which point Mycroft slams John up against a wall and snogs him senseless. And Sherlock's brain explodes. :D
Um. Sorry, got a bit carried away there. I really liked this story. That is all.
Re: Dirty Little Secret OPvelvet_maceNovember 8 2010, 23:57:56 UTC
John is irresistibly drawn to the Holmeses. And Holmeses are irresistibly drawn to John. It's the natural order of things.
And then Sherlock gets jealous and Mycroft gets smug and John looks for a solution and they end up in a threesome where they skewer John between them. Then John cries with happiness around Sherlock's huge schlong about how wonderful it is to be loved so thoroughly by so many holmeses.
And... what was I saying? I think I kinda drifted off there.
Re: Dirty Little Secret 7/7scap3goatNovember 20 2010, 11:21:04 UTC
BTW... oO For dinner I had reserved a private table at The Landau. It was a wonderful place, so very dignified and charming. [...] ‘Holmes, I have a reservation for two.’ [...] My fingers splayed against the smooth material [of the menu] and I gazed down at it for a moment. ‘Would it be terribly impudent of me to suggest the Menu Surprise?’
How did you get at what I wrote for my nano, exactly? Was it Mycroft? (Who's telling me "Worrees 1848," - yes, I will worry about my wordcount, or whatever that number's meant to be!)
Re: Dirty Little Secret 7/7velvet_maceDecember 13 2012, 16:50:01 UTC
This was the first John/Mycroft story I read and it has ruined me for life!!! (in wonderful way of course!) I can no longer read or even entertain the thought of Johnlock with out feeling like I'm betraying Mycroft in the process, and for that I thank you and your lovely writing skills. <3
"It would please me very much if you did. Then I wouldn't worry nearly so much about you and Sherlock being properly fed and equipped."
"And if I wanted to show up and see you at work - just because?"
"Unless I was steeped in a matter of great urgency, I should very much enjoy you stealing me away."
"What if I were to announce our relationship, put a notice in the paper."
"Sherlock's brain would probably explode and I imagine there would be a magnificent row about it. Your Mary would likely never speak to you again. Your friends from work would be a bit surprised - but only in the fact that you married me rather than Sherlock. My life would not be altered a bit."
Mycroft leaned forward, mischief in his eyes. "Shall we do it? It could be fun." Then before John could answer, he leaned back again. "No, of course, not. It was just meant to get a rise out of me."
John narrowed his eyes. "And what if I expect conjugal rights?"
Mycroft didn't skip a beat. "Then I would take you home with me after this meal and spend the rest of the afternoon pleasuring you senseless." Mycroft's eyes glowed.
John felt a sudden hot surge through his body. Suddenly he felt very vulnerable. Far too many possibilities flashed through his mind in the next second. His face flushed deeply. "Mycroft… I'm not actually…"
"I know," said Mycroft with a small sigh of disappointment. "You are just testing to see how far I would go. How real I'd make this. I hope you have your answer. But don't be so alarmed, I am very patient and am willing to wait as long as you wish to consummate the relationship."
John's jumper seemed tight around his neck. As he stretched it a noise shocked both of them. The door opened and a server came in with a platter hoisted on her shoulder. Never had John been more grateful to be interrupted.
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"May I ask what your biggest reservation is?" Mycroft took a sip of his wine.
"That you didn't ask first. You made a pretty sizable life decision for me and didn't even bother to inform me until months after the fact."
"I thought so. But done is done and no harm has come of it." Mycroft leaned back and rubbed his hand slowly over the bowl of his glass. "And your second reservation."
"I'm heterosexual."
"Except for that time when you weren't."
John decided abruptly not to ask how Mycroft knew. Like Sherlock, Mycroft made a point of knowing everything about the things that interested him. The irony was that the situation "that one time" wasn't too different from the one he was in now. His dorm mate at Barts was much brighter and more talented than him. Though not the level of genius that Sherlock and Mycroft were, he'd certainly thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. John found Steven fascinating; Steven had found him convenient. One thing lead to another…
"Everyone experiments at uni. And it was more his idea to have sex than mine."
"I see. No, I don't doubt you."
John snorted. "It wasn't exactly marriage material. It barely counted as friends with benefits. We never told anyone."
"You never told anyone," Mycroft corrected. "You do have an extraordinary talent for dealing with insufferable people. It's very much a part of your appeal."
"And it's neither here nor there," said John.
Abruptly, Mycroft took his serviette off his lap and stood up. John wondered if he might have said something wrong, but running his mind through the conversation he couldn't find any reason why Mycroft would be upset. Himself, maybe.
John stood automatically, clutching for the linen square as it fell off his lap. When he looked up again, Mycroft had come into his personal space and was looking down at him from inches away.
"Mycr-" John said, then his mouth was covered. A large warm hand carded through the hair at the back of his neck. Another, wrapped around his back, gently pulling him forward into Mycroft's chest. The kiss was gentle but insistent, taking in his upper lip, then a bit of tongue slipping in slyly. Tentatively he kissed back, savoring the texture of his lips, the smell of his aftershave. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed him. And no one had ever done it this carefully or thoroughly before.
John gasped and pulled away far, far too late to pretend that he hadn't enjoyed it. Mycroft's lips drifted to the side of his throat, under his ear. There they nipped gently. "Oh-" John gasped. "Okay, you-you've proved your ta-talented at this."
"The advantages of being observant," murmured Mycroft in his ear, "Is that it becomes very easy to notice just what areas provoke what reactions." And with that he licked the cup of John's ear and nearly sent him to the floor. It was as if all the bones in his body had turned to rubber and his entire concentration was caught up in that one singular sensation. "Imagine now what I could do if I had access to the rest of your body," Mycroft breathed.
"Nnnngh," was all John could muster up. His cock felt hot and needy.
Mycroft released him and John let out a small sob of disappointment. Then his mind returned to him. "My god," he managed.
"Do sit down before you stumble, please," said Mycroft moving back to his end of the table. "They will be bringing our desert any moment. You may want to compose yourself a bit, though I do enjoy the look on your face right now."
John tugged his jumper and rubbed his face with his hands. He willed his crotch to quiet down and behave. "God," he repeated. "What was that for?"
"You tested me earlier - I was testing you."
"Seeing if I could withstand your seduction?"
"Absolutely."
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"I should be furious at you," John said. "Absolutely furious."
"But you aren't," replied Mycroft with utter certainty.
"No, I'm not," he admitted with a sigh. "I've a terrible weakness for Holmeses. It's going to get me into horrible amounts of trouble one day."
"One day? I should say it already has."
"True." John snorted. "So shall I assume that our faux-partnership isn't going to go away, no matter how much I protest?" John let his fingers touch the spot on his neck where Mycroft had kissed. It still tingled.
"You can be utterly certain of that," said Mycroft amicably.
"You really do take possessiveness to new heights. I should be scared of you."
"But you aren't."
"I'm a nutter," admitted John.
Mycroft sat up straighter. "Which reminds me." He reached down and brought his red briefcase up. Snapping open the lid, he reached in and drew out a velvet jewelry box. He laid it on the table between them.
Hesitantly, John reached out and took it, flipping the lid up. Inside was a wide band of white gold with a square cut diamond set deeply into it. It matched the one that Mycroft had been wearing for weeks or maybe months.
"You are proposing? Is that what this lunch is really all about? Doesn't this seem a bit… moot… considering?"
"The parts maybe out of order, but isn't it more important that they all end up being there in the end." Mycroft's eyes seemed to plead. "Eventually we might make it back to point to first glances across the room and tentative flirting."
John flipped the lid back down and handed it back. "How about we stick to moving forward from this point on. We can try dating. See how it goes." Giving Mycroft a tolerant smile he added, "Maybe you'll convince me to wear your ring. I don't know. But from now on, let's try to make everything real."
Mycroft glowed as if John had handed him a Christmas present.
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My-brain-is-stupid comment: one singular sensation
That better not have been on purpose. Do you know how long it will take to get that bloody song out of my head? Days, I tell you. DAYS.
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Would it be horribly wrong of me to ask for a sequel? Or, okay, I'll just say that if you ever wanted to write more, you know, like the whole dating thing, and John making Mycroft jump through metaphorical hoops to prove it's all really real, and Mycroft being very patient about it until John's nearly killed (again) running around with Sherlock, at which point Mycroft slams John up against a wall and snogs him senseless. And Sherlock's brain explodes. :D
Um. Sorry, got a bit carried away there. I really liked this story. That is all.
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I don't know if there is a sequel in me. If it comes it comes.
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And then Sherlock gets jealous and Mycroft gets smug and John looks for a solution and they end up in a threesome where they skewer John between them. Then John cries with happiness around Sherlock's huge schlong about how wonderful it is to be loved so thoroughly by so many holmeses.
And... what was I saying? I think I kinda drifted off there.
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I demand more. More courtship on John's behalf and more snogging on Mycroft's behalf. *points to icon for emphasis*
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For dinner I had reserved a private table at The Landau. It was a wonderful place, so very dignified and charming.
[...]
‘Holmes, I have a reservation for two.’
[...]
My fingers splayed against the smooth material [of the menu] and I gazed down at it for a moment. ‘Would it be terribly impudent of me to suggest the Menu Surprise?’
How did you get at what I wrote for my nano, exactly? Was it Mycroft? (Who's telling me "Worrees 1848," - yes, I will worry about my wordcount, or whatever that number's meant to be!)
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