Sherlock Fic: Intelligence Gathering (Mycroft/John)
Home internet has been out since Friday. I am going a bit mad not being able to reply to anything, or read much. In the meantime, it's okay to post from work, right? Riiiight.
Title: Intelligence Gathering
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Mycroft/John
Rating: R
Word Count: ~600
Content advisory: none
Note: Written for defiant-deviant for Five Acts, Round Five. Thanks to redandglenda for her beta work.
Summary: John’s not used to formal wear, but if Mycroft insists, he’ll make the best of it.
“This is not really my style,” John said. The image reflected in the mirror looked like a stranger: neatly combed hair and three-piece navy suit that fit as if it had been made for him. Which it had.
“You look very handsome.” Mycroft appeared in the mirror beside John. He wore his clothes well, as confident as a tiger in stripes or a leopard in spots. John felt as if he were hiding himself behind his formal wear, while the tie, the cufflinks, the polished shoes: it all worked together to make Mycroft seem somehow more himself.
“Will it be a long evening, do you think?” John asked as he tried to make his tie as straight as Mycroft’s.
“Uncertain.” Mycroft tugged at his shirt cuffs, correcting some imperfection John hadn’t even noticed. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” John said, and buried his amusement beneath his very real trepidation over the evening’s events. Mycroft would know his plan soon enough.
John got the chance he was looking for shortly after their arrival at the party, when Mycroft had finished exchanging pleasantries with the Chilean Ambassador. “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes,” John said, touching Mycroft on the shoulder.
Though he raised an eyebrow, Mycroft followed John without protest down one of the corridors branching away from the ballroom. As soon as they’d turned the corner, John seized Mycroft by the elbow and dragged him into a dark alcove whose entrance was concealed by a potted plant.
In an instant, John had shoved Mycroft up against the marble wall, holding him in place by his lapels while he maneuvered his thigh to press against the crotch of Mycroft’s impeccably-tailored trousers.
“Hello,” he said, and stretched up to brush a gentle kiss against Mycroft’s mouth.
“What is--?” Mycroft began, but a firm press of John’s thigh against his stiffening cock quieted him.
“This will only take a moment,” John said. “I know you’ve some important information to gather tonight, and I wanted to add this to the mix.”
He leaned forward to press his cheek against Mycroft so he could whisper in his ear. “When we get home, I’m going to bind your hands with this tie.” He reached between them to drag a hand down Mycroft’s throat. “I’ll leave you your shirt and vest, though. And since you were kind enough to provide this suit, I’ll keep it on while I suck your cock, at least until you beg me to fuck you. And by then, I might be impatient enough just to unzip and take you like that. When’s the last time you were fucked by a man in a three piece suit, hm?”
John shifted his thigh against the now-quite-sizeable bulge in Mycroft’s trousers and pulled back to see Mycroft’s face.
“I…” Mycroft swallowed hard. His breathing had gone shallow, and in the dim light his pupils were enormous. “I… John.”
“Yes.” John leaned forward to deliver another feather-light, teasing kiss. Then he released Mycroft and stepped back to a more decorous distance. He brushed his hands down the lapels of Mycroft’s suit to smooth them. “I thought as long as you were information-gathering, that you might want to know.”
“Yes,” Mycroft said weakly.
John smoothed a hand over his own jacket. “Right then. Back to business.” He stepped out of the alcove and turned toward the ballroom. In a moment, he heard the soft squeak of dress shoes on marble that meant Mycroft was following. He hoped it would be a very long evening indeed.
Title: Intelligence Gathering
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Mycroft/John
Rating: R
Word Count: ~600
Content advisory: none
Note: Written for defiant-deviant for Five Acts, Round Five. Thanks to redandglenda for her beta work.
Summary: John’s not used to formal wear, but if Mycroft insists, he’ll make the best of it.
“This is not really my style,” John said. The image reflected in the mirror looked like a stranger: neatly combed hair and three-piece navy suit that fit as if it had been made for him. Which it had.
“You look very handsome.” Mycroft appeared in the mirror beside John. He wore his clothes well, as confident as a tiger in stripes or a leopard in spots. John felt as if he were hiding himself behind his formal wear, while the tie, the cufflinks, the polished shoes: it all worked together to make Mycroft seem somehow more himself.
“Will it be a long evening, do you think?” John asked as he tried to make his tie as straight as Mycroft’s.
“Uncertain.” Mycroft tugged at his shirt cuffs, correcting some imperfection John hadn’t even noticed. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” John said, and buried his amusement beneath his very real trepidation over the evening’s events. Mycroft would know his plan soon enough.
John got the chance he was looking for shortly after their arrival at the party, when Mycroft had finished exchanging pleasantries with the Chilean Ambassador. “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes,” John said, touching Mycroft on the shoulder.
Though he raised an eyebrow, Mycroft followed John without protest down one of the corridors branching away from the ballroom. As soon as they’d turned the corner, John seized Mycroft by the elbow and dragged him into a dark alcove whose entrance was concealed by a potted plant.
In an instant, John had shoved Mycroft up against the marble wall, holding him in place by his lapels while he maneuvered his thigh to press against the crotch of Mycroft’s impeccably-tailored trousers.
“Hello,” he said, and stretched up to brush a gentle kiss against Mycroft’s mouth.
“What is--?” Mycroft began, but a firm press of John’s thigh against his stiffening cock quieted him.
“This will only take a moment,” John said. “I know you’ve some important information to gather tonight, and I wanted to add this to the mix.”
He leaned forward to press his cheek against Mycroft so he could whisper in his ear. “When we get home, I’m going to bind your hands with this tie.” He reached between them to drag a hand down Mycroft’s throat. “I’ll leave you your shirt and vest, though. And since you were kind enough to provide this suit, I’ll keep it on while I suck your cock, at least until you beg me to fuck you. And by then, I might be impatient enough just to unzip and take you like that. When’s the last time you were fucked by a man in a three piece suit, hm?”
John shifted his thigh against the now-quite-sizeable bulge in Mycroft’s trousers and pulled back to see Mycroft’s face.
“I…” Mycroft swallowed hard. His breathing had gone shallow, and in the dim light his pupils were enormous. “I… John.”
“Yes.” John leaned forward to deliver another feather-light, teasing kiss. Then he released Mycroft and stepped back to a more decorous distance. He brushed his hands down the lapels of Mycroft’s suit to smooth them. “I thought as long as you were information-gathering, that you might want to know.”
“Yes,” Mycroft said weakly.
John smoothed a hand over his own jacket. “Right then. Back to business.” He stepped out of the alcove and turned toward the ballroom. In a moment, he heard the soft squeak of dress shoes on marble that meant Mycroft was following. He hoped it would be a very long evening indeed.