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"Gregory you can't be serious. I am far too old for 'clubbing'." Mycroft looked at his husband with a mixture of disbelief and wariness.
Greg grinned at him. "It's not clubbing, per se. It's a bar with a dance floor. And they cater to older gents like us."
"You mean men far past their prime that should know to stay home and put their feet up?"
Greg leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You loved dancing when you were young. I know because I've seen the pictures. Besides, I have a bribe."
Mycroft eyed him. “Do you?”
Greg grinned and stepped into the closet.
Mycroft waited patiently, arms crossed, almost worried Greg would come out in a horrid leisure suit or something. When the door opened it was something far more tantalizing, damn him. The trousers left very little to the imagination and the shirt was appropriate for his age, but unbuttoned just enough to give a glimpse of his chest. And he’d put on an earring. Probably a clip, given how long his ear had been closed, but still, it glinted in the light.
“Unfair,” muttered Mycroft.
Greg grinned incandescently and came to his side. He slid his hands seductively around Mycroft's hips. "I play the game exactly as fairly as you do," he said into Mycroft's ear.
Mycroft stepped out of his touch. "Very well," he said, looking at Greg a moment, then stepping into the closet himself.
He hesitated, then went to the very back, to clothes he'd not touched in quite some time. But he'd held onto them, perhaps out of a sense of nostalgia. Well, now was the time, he supposed, taking out a pair of black leather trousers and hoping fervently that they'd still fit.
To his surprise and delight they did. Perhaps a bit tight, but not in any bad way. He looked at himself in the mirror and reached for a plain white button-up. A simple outfit, but one he was certain Greg would thoroughly enjoy.
Feeling a bit wicked, he went to the door and slowly opened it. Greg looked him up and down, adjusting himself and giving Mycroft a low whistle. "See, you play just as fair as I do."
Mycroft walked to him and kissed him, reaching down to cop a feel. "So where is this club? Or are we just going to stay in?"
Greg chuckled against his lips. "Oh, you're not getting away with staying in dressed like that." He shifted his hips against Mycroft's hand and then stepped back. "Come on."
Mycroft briefly considered making another volley in an attempt to stay home, but, may as well see what this place was. Besides, there was the added benefit of watching Greg walk down the stairs in those trousers.
A car was waiting for them outside. Probably Greg had called for it before he'd even asked Mycroft about going out. It should worry him that Greg knew him so well, but instead it just made him warm in all the best ways.
Greg got the door for Mycroft, then gave the driver directions before settling in by his side. His hand rest on Mycroft's thigh, not seeking to arouse him further, just a familiar touch.
Even with London traffic, it didn't take overly long for them to pull up to a nondescript building. As they got out, Mycroft could faintly hear the music thumping through the walls. Not the current stuff so much as the things that were popular in his uni days. This might be good after all.
Greg took his hand and led him to the door. A lot had changed since Mycroft was young and it still gave him a thrill when he could hold his husband's hand in the street.
They were let in without problem and headed into the club proper. Mycroft was relieved to see that Greg had been telling the truth; most of the men here were near to their own age, though there was a small contingent of young men as well as one or two much older.
Greg put an arm around Mycroft's waist and spoke into his ear over the music. "Drinks first or dancing?"
"I think a drink to ease the way," said Mycroft, watching the dance floor.
Greg steered him to a standing table and then stepped away to the bar. It didn't take long for one of the younger men to find his way over. "Here alone?" he asked, all but batting his eyelashes.
"With my husband," said Mycroft firmly.
To his credit, the young man merely nodded. "Have fun," he said, and vanished into the crowd.
Greg appeared a moment later. "Already drawing attention, I see. Not that I blame them with that arse in those trousers."
"You can talk," said Mycroft.
Greg chuckled and put his hand on Mycroft's arse for just a moment, then slid his hand up to the small of his back.
Mycroft sipped his drink and started to relax, letting the sound of the music and Greg's touch do their job. It really did remind him of his uni days, that glimpse of freedom and wild abandon before he buttoned himself up and settled into a proper government job. As, was so often the case it seemed, Greg had been the one to throw him a lifeline, a lighthouse guiding him into the safe harbor of his arms. The person who loved and accepted him for who he was, without reservation.
Impulsively, Mycroft leaned over and kissed Greg.
Greg smiled at him. "I love you, too," he said.
Mycroft threw back the rest of his drink and put it down on the table. "Shall we see how much dancing I remember?"
"I like the sound of that," said Greg, finishing his own drink, taking Mycroft's hand and leading him out to the floor.
Mycroft rolled his shoulders, letting the music wash over him. Greg smiled as he watched him, starting to move with the rhythm. Mycroft took a breath and relaxed, following Greg's movements.
Probably he wasn't as graceful as he'd been when he was young, but it didn't matter. Mycroft found himself genuinely smiling as he moved with Greg. He was jostled with the crowd as they danced around them. Perhaps many of them were remembering their younger days, too.
Greg danced closer, putting a hand on Mycroft's hip. Mycroft leaned in and kissed him. They pressed together, growing warm, neither of them minding a bit.
It was Greg that called for a break, slightly out of breath as they made their way back to the tables. "See," said Mycroft, teasing, "and you think my jogging is ridiculous."
"I never said that," said Greg. "I just get my exercise chasing actual people."
Mycroft kissed his cheek. "I'll get our drinks." He left Greg and made his way to the bar. There was a bit less pushing and shoving than there'd been when he was in university, but that was no bad thing. He gave his drink order and looked around. A lot of the men seemed to be couples, or at least they'd paired off, talking or kissing. A couple in one corner had progressed a bit past kissing, but Mycroft quickly looked away from them.
He came back to the table to find Greg talking to someone about his own age. Mycroft beat back a spike of jealousy and put down their drinks.
"Ah, Mycroft, this is Andrew. He's the one that told me about the place."
"Pleased to meet you," said Andrew, offering his hand.
Mycroft shook, finding Andrew's handshake firm. A man came to Andrew's side and kissed his cheek. "Find your friends?" he asked.
"I did. Aman, this is Greg and Mycroft. Greg, Mycroft, my husband, Aman."
Pleasantries were exchanged and hands were shaken. They fell into conversation as they sipped their drinks. Mycroft got another round for the four of them. as they chatted, but he started feeling restless as he finished his drink.
Greg put an arm around his waist, no doubt sensing his mood. "We came here to dance, Andrew. We're going back on the floor."
Andrew chuckled. "Have fun, we'll get together for dinner sometime soon."
"I'd love that," said Greg.
"We would," Mycroft assured them.
"Greg has my number," said Andrew, waving them off. "Go have fun."
They danced for a little while longer. Greg's hand stayed on Mycroft's hip, sometimes giving him a squeeze. Mycroft knew exactly what Greg wanted. But he could be patient when he wanted to, and sometimes it was more fun to tease.
Mycroft and Greg danced their way into a darker corner. Here the crowd was thinner and the couples were dancing much closer together. Mycroft pressed Greg up against the wall and kissed him deeply, slotting a leg between his thighs. He was well aware they were still in public, but that only heightened the thrill.
Greg moaned against his lips. "Think I'm ready to go home, now," he muttered, rolling his hips.
Mycroft leaned in and nipped his ear. "Thank you for this," he said.
"Mmm, the pleasure is mine. Call the car before I drop to my knees and suck you off right here."
Mycroft bit back a groan and fished Greg's mobile out of his back pocket, quickly sending off a message.
Greg gently pushed him off and stole another kiss. "Come on."
They made their way through the club and out onto the street. Mycroft breathed in the fresh air, still feeling the beat in his veins, Greg tightly holding his hand and undressing him with his eyes as he smiled at him. It was perfect.
The car pulled up moments later. This time it was Mycroft that got the door. As soon as they were safely inside Greg climbed into his lap, kissing him deeply. Mycroft moaned and held his hips.
"There are certainly some advantages to a driver," said Greg, getting the top few of Mycroft's buttons free before ducking his head and kissing his throat.
Mycroft rolled his hips, head dropping back. "Seems so," he gasped.
Greg sucked a mark into his shoulder as the car came to a stop. "We're here," said Mycroft. "Come on."
Reluctantly, Greg pulled back and opened the car door, nearly falling out. He caught himself and flashed Mycroft a smile, finding his feet and reaching for Mycroft's hands.
Mycroft laughed and let himself be pulled out of the car and up the stairs. They stumbled into the house and then Greg was pushing him against the wall of their foyer and tackling the buttons of his shirt to get to skin.
Groaning, Mycroft got his trousers open. Greg dropped to his knees, nuzzling the leather, clearly loving the scent and taste of it, then he batted Mycroft's hands away and started on his cock.
Mycroft moaned softly, hands in Greg's hair, not pushing him but grounding himself. Greg loved Mycroft's cock on any given day, but apparently wrapping himself in leather was a special treat. He'd have to remember that for the future.
Glancing down, Mycroft could see Greg pressing the heel of his hand against himself, clearly trying to stay in control. God, but Greg Lestrade was the sexiest man alive.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" asked Mycroft.
Greg's eyes flickered up to him, full of want and need as he gave a short nod, mouth still around Mycroft's cock.
"Sofa," said Mycroft. If they were going to relieve uni days, might as well go all out and remember the times he never even made it to a bed.
Greg scrambled to his feet and hurried ahead of Mycroft.
Mycroft gave him a gentle push onto the sofa, moving over him, kissing him deeply, getting Greg's shirt open. Greg moaned and ran his hands through Mycroft's hair as he kissed down his chest, pausing to focus on one nipple, then the other.
Greg wiggled out of his shirt, and then rolled onto his stomach, getting his flies open and shoving down his trousers and pants. Mycroft pulled them down to his thighs, then spread Greg's cheeks and started licking him open.
Mycroft smiled against Greg's skin as he heard him curse. He held Greg's hips, keeping him pinned in place as he savored the taste of him. Probably it was just as well he hadn't known Greg in Uni, he would never have gotten enough of taking him on every surface and it no doubt would have hurt his grades.
Greg rutted against the sofa as much as he could under Mycroft's grip.
Mycroft smirked and pulled back, pulling off Greg's shoes so he could get him completely naked. "You want to feel this leather against your skin, don't you?" Mycroft purred.
Greg propped his head up on one hand. "I want you to get on with it," he said with a smile, breathless voice betraying his need.
Mycroft swatted his bottom. "Patience," he said, stepping into the bathroom to rinse out his mouth.
When he came back he found Greg had positioned himself against the back of the sofa, arse in the air.
"Mmm, you are a work of art," said Mycroft quickly crossing the room and settling behind him.
"You are," said Greg.
Mycroft put his hand on the small of Greg's back and guided himself in.
Greg groaned and relaxed as much as he could, surrendering himself to Mycroft. Mycroft grabbed his hips and gave a few thrusts before burying himself to the hilt, making Greg cry out quietly.
He held himself there, shifting slightly, letting Greg feel the leather against his skin. "Gorgeous," muttered Mycroft, then he started to move in earnest.
"Yes," moaned Greg, gripping the sofa, giving himself over to Mycroft's lust.
Mycroft took him hard and fast, needing to claim, needing to come. He leaned forward and panted against Greg's shoulder as he lost himself in a haze of bliss
There was no way he could last long after all of this. He thrust a few more times and came, groaning softly against Greg's skin.
Breathing heavily, Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and flipped them to a seat. He took Greg in hand, bringing him over the edge with expert practice.
Greg panted, loose-limbed and clearly sated. Mycroft kissed his throat. "Come on, we should make it up the stairs at some point.
"Says you," muttered Greg.
Mycroft smiled and shifted him off his lap. He carefully wriggled out of the leather pants and went into the bathroom for a cloth.
Greg smiled at him as he came back out. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," said Mycroft, leaning in to kiss him as he cleaned up his stomach.
Greg cupped the back of his head as he kissed him back. Mycroft reveled in the warm happiness of the moment.
When Greg broke the kiss, Mycroft dropped the cloth on the coffee table and took his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed."
Greg grinned. "One of my favorite things that you say."