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Breakfast In Bed

Summary:

Greg takes it upon himself to get up early and surprise Mycroft with breakfast in bed.
All Mycroft can think about was what had happened the night before to get them there.

Notes:

This is both PaiaLovesPie's and Janto321's faults for this- Paia for having a Mystrade Plot Bunny list, and Janto for giving me the link.

This is for you guys.

Thanks!

 

The prompt was: Greg makes his lover breakfast in the mornings.

 

(This bunny was also previously taken by Ayla221bee, who is an amazing writer- so go read their stuff!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128382/chapters/60882463 )

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It was only the tiniest sliver of sunlight, barely enough to make it's way across the floor, slinking over the carpet and crawling up the bed until it was at the perfect angle to shine directly into the still closed eyes of the man who was currently curled under a thick, deep red comforter.

 

Mycroft cracked an eye open, sleepily cursing under his breath at the fact that the curtains had the audacity to be open and wake him from what had been a quite pleasant dream.

 

Or... had it been a dream at all?

 

Normally, he was very meticulous about closing his curtains before he went to bed. Mycroft did not want heavy, ugly blackout curtains in his bedroom, so he settled for two sets, one in front of the other- much like how hotel curtains were set up.

 

But, because of that, it meant that where they came together often left a small portion of the window showing, and because his bedroom window was east facing, that meant that he had to be very conscientious of insuring that they were well and truly closed every night.

 

“Oh.”

 

It was a small noise, a tiny puff of air on the wind.

 

In a flash, he remembered why the curtains had not been closed the night before.

 

 

They had barely made it to the bedroom before they started to tear each others' clothes off. Jackets were strewn across the floor, shoes kicked off into one corner or the other.

 

Greg had practically slammed him up against the wall, pinning Mycroft between himself and the edge of the window while the Detective Inspector used one hand to run through his lover's hair, and the other to try to awkwardly undo his belt, all while having his tongue shoved in the younger man's mouth and making noises that were driving them both mad with need.

 

Mycroft was thinking bugger all about the curtains that he was up against when Greg finally decided that he would need both hands to get the man's trousers off. He made short work of them, and soon enough both trousers and silk boxers were being kicked off onto the floor.

 

As much as Mycroft would have loved to be fucked up against the wall, neither of them were young men, and they both realized at exactly the same time that they were going to need to take this elsewhere.

 

Bed.” It was as much a command as it was a needy whine.

 

Reluctantly, Greg let him down from the wall (and the curtains) and they continued their kissing and groping and undressing for the few short steps that it took to get to the bed.

 

Greg then proceeded to fuck Mycroft into the mattress, opening him with skilled fingers before finally, FINALLY pushing inside and proceeding to slam into him- taking his lover hard and fast, vigorously enough that even the heavy oak four poster bed was rocking with their movements.

 

It ended up that Mycroft didn't even have to touch himself- not that he really could have, with as hard as Greg was pushing him down onto the bed beneath him. Between the friction of his hard, weeping cock against the soft sheets, and the man above him, finding every single nerve ending deep inside, he came untouched, desperately gripping at the headboard and crying out his lover's name.

 

He was still riding that intense rush of endorphins, soaring high on the crest of his pleasure when he observed that Greg's rhythm stuttered, his body stiffened, and he heard a soft “Ahhh.. Myyyyyyy...” before Mycroft felt the warmth of Greg filling him.

 

With one last hard push at the end, Greg carefully collapsed on top of Mycroft, pressing him even further into the plush bedding.. and the leavings that now stained them.

 

After a few minutes of catching their collective breaths, some light snogging, and a few soft chuckles at the state of the bed and themselves, they both silently made the decision that a quick wipe down with a warm flannel and a quick change of the comforter, then sleep, would be acceptable.

 

It was too late for a shower, and they were both way too exhausted to stand up for any longer than it took to get to the loo, stick a flannel under warm water, wash themselves, throw the soiled comforter to the floor, unfold a new one and throw it on the bed, then get themselves deep under it and fall almost immediately asleep.

 

 

Mycroft sighed softly at the events of the night before. The evidence was all over the floor- clothes scattered about, a comforter bunched up against the far side of the bed.

 

And the curtains- annoyingly open.

 

It certainly was a rare thing to have Greg not only wake up before him- as Mycroft always had to get up for work earlier on weekdays- but even on the weekends Mycroft's circadian rhythm kept him to his early hours.

 

The fact that Greg had been able to get out of bed before Mycroft, and without waking him, showed how much he really had been worn out last night.

 

He had just started to sit up slightly in bed- while every single muscle reminded him of how sore that they were- when the door creaked open.

 

“Oh, Mycroft. You're awake.” Greg's smile filled his face. He had one hand still on the doorknob, and the other carefully balancing a silver tray that held a couple of cups of steaming tea, a small pile of toast, a tin of marmalade, and a couple of bananas.

Greg looked down at the tray, then back to his lover. “I know it's not much, but I figured you'd be waking up soon. Seems like I got here just in time!”

 

“Indeed.” Mycroft said, while continuing to wince and grunt to get into a proper sitting position in bed. Immediately the smile on Greg's face fell.


“I was too hard on you last night.” He said, worry in his voice.

 

Mycroft chose to ignore the obvious unintentional innuendo in the comment. “Gregory. I assure you that I am fine. This is nothing that I haven't felt before when you have been particularly... amorous. We have the entire weekend to ourselves, and by the time Monday morning arrives, no one will be the wiser, except you and I.”

 

Greg visibly relaxed. “Thanks, My. I guess we'll just have to find other ways to enjoy ourselves this weekend. I'm sure we can come up with something.”

 

Very carefully, Greg maneuvered himself and the tray into bed next to Mycroft, giving him a soft, surprisingly chase kiss after the events of the night before.

 

“This looks wonderful. Thank you very much.” Mycroft returned the kiss before picking up a banana.

 

“Bananas can prevent muscle spasms and cramps both before and after sex.” He said, examining the banana from all sides, as if it held some divine secret for him to behold.

 

“Are you saying that you want a repeat performance, Gregory?” Mycroft cocked an eyebrow.

 

Mycroft was not sure that he had ever seen Greg turn that red that fast. The poor man sputtered out the tea he had just drank, coughing before he could finally answer.

 

“I.. I didn't even know! I just saw them in the kitchen and I thought you'd like them and...”

 

A soft hand on Greg's shoulder stopped his ramblings. “Gregory. Gregory. It is fine. I have the bananas in my... in OUR kitchen because I enjoy them. The fact that they are a good food to consume before or after making love is a simply a welcome bonus.”

 

Mycroft leaned in and whispered “And I certainly do hope that the answer to my query is yes.”

 

 

Never was a breakfast downed so quickly.

Notes:

Oddly enough, I didn't know until after I wrote that Greg had a banana on the tray that they are actually used for preventing cramps and muscle spasms before and after sex. Serendipitous, that!

This little fic is for everyone in the 221B Con Drop Therapy Room on Twitter. You awesome people know who you are. Thanks for being so freaking cool.