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Mycroft was kneeling on the soft blanket of the hotel bed. In front of him was that particular pile of pillows every hotel thinks their guests need, but land on the floor when it’s actually time to sleep. They came in different tones of brown and cream white, but Mycroft had long since stopped looking at them - couldn’t even concentrate on anything else in the room right now. Anything despite Greg, that was.
His wrists were tied behind his back with one of his own silk ties. The one Greg had appropriated after he’d stripped Mycroft out of his suit shortly after they had retired to their room for the night. The things he had whispered into Mycroft’s ear had nipped every protest in the bud. He had let himself be lead to the bed easily, pushed into position on his knees in the middle, entirely naked.
Greg was kneeling behind him, chest to back, only he was still dressed in his expensive trousers, shirt and waistcoat, the warm, gray cloth rubbing against Mycroft’s overheated skin. He pushed himself back against Greg, relishing in the way it felt rough against him.
“Gregory…” Mycroft breathed, shivering.
“Sshhh, darling. I’ll take care of you.”
Mycroft sighed and let his head fall back on Greg’s shoulder, pushing backward, trying to get away from Greg’s fingers, which brushed over his nipples again and again and again… They were red, swollen, hard. Oversensitive. Pleasure had turned into pain minutes ago, but Greg wouldn’t let up his touches. Mycroft let out a shaky breath, which turned into a moan as the abused nerve-endings in his skin finally picked up the softer touch and his whole body ignited once again. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure. He had lost count of how many times Greg had pushed him back and forth between the two. Time had stopped to mean anything. There was only Greg’s fingers, his body pressed against Mycroft’s, his lips on his neck, licking off the sweat.
“You like that?” Greg whispered against Mycroft’s skin. It was rhetorical, but Mycroft loved hearing him talk.
He couldn’t respond beyond a groan. Greg laughed quietly and pressed his cock against Mycroft, which was still trapped in his trousers, but not any less excited for it. At the same time he pinched hard and Mycroft all but shouted, twitched in Greg’s grasp and instinctively tried to twist his body away.
“Ah, we’ll have none of that, darling,” he laughed darkly and drew Mycroft flush against him. “You love it. You’re so hard for me. Leaking all over the blanket like that. Fuck.”
Mycroft was shivering, shaking and somehow managed to form some words as the pain coursed through his body, though they were merely Greg’s name whispered in reverent tones, over and over again. His hands grabbed onto Greg’s shirt, crumpling it, pulling him closer. Greg didn’t need another invitation. He twisted Mycroft’s nipple, never letting up the intense pressure.
“Fuck!” Mycroft shouted, feeling the pain like a lightning in his whole body, but where it should’ve been deeply uncomfortable, where his rational mind told him to run, there was something else that craved every single one of Greg’s touches harder, harder, harder… His cock jumped on its own, and suddenly he was coming untouched, painting parts of his stomach and the pillows in front of him. The release came like a surprise to him, and he all but stopped breathing when it hit, but then Greg’s hand was on his cock, which hadn’t had a single touch all night, and it was too much.
Greg moved his hand quickly, without remorse, and Mycroft collapsed under him, fell forward into the pillows, taking Greg with him. He screamed, shouted, shook for what felt like a small eternity - Greg’s hand prolonging his orgasm impossibly further. His whole body hurt, but the pleasure overwrote all other sensations, pushing him ever higher, until he finally crashed, breathing heavily into the pillow.
“Mycroft… fuck… You magnificent bastard…” He heard cloth rustle behind him, then Greg’s deep breathing, and not ten seconds later felt Greg’s release on his back, smiled at the specific way Greg moaned when he orgasmed, but was too tired to turn around and witness it.
Greg quickly undid the knot that kept Mycroft’s wrists together and rolled him on his back. The blanket was already ruined, and neither of them cared all that much about it. They shared a gentle, loving smile and a long kiss, during which the last of Mycroft’s tension exited his body and left him absolutely boneless.
“You’re amazing, darling,” Greg murmured.
“You did all the work, dear,” Mycroft laughed, wondering where he got the energy to form words.
“Yes, but you let me… Oh god… I still can’t believe I’m the one allowed to treat you like this.”
“It’s been eight years, Gregory. We’re married, if that has slipped your mind.”
“How could it?” Greg grinned. “Am I not allowed to be amazed by you anymore?”
“You’re a silly man. But, yes, you may continue to be amazed by my person, if you so choose.”
“Thank you, your highness.”
Mycroft laughed, but then flinched as Greg’s shirt rubbed against his abused nipples. Greg just smirked and dipped his head lower. As his lips closed around the hurt flesh and his tongue gently soothed the pain away, Mycroft sighed deeply, happily, and still madly in love.