So, saw this in the outfitters in town and was inspired. My attempt at a contribution for soft smut Sunday, although there’s not much smut to be honest. Enjoy anyway.
“Mycroft, it would suit you, honestly…”
“Seriously, Gregory?” Mycroft stared at the pale jacket in the tailor’s window. By Gurteen. Quit a good name in gentleman’s outfitting. The stripes were deliciously novel, almost daring. That tie…were those elephants? Giraffes? A chameleon? And that hat…. Oh my, the whole look was indeed fashionably adventurous. What’s more, Gregory thinks it would suit me…
“Seriously, Myc. You’d look gorgeous in it. It’s summery. You need something summery. You look entirely too formal in your dark stuff. This reminds me of cricket matches and boating at the Henley Regatta…”
“Have you ever been boating at the Henley Regatta, Gregory?” The scepticism in Mycroft’s tone was obvious. Boating at Henley was hardly something Mycroft would have expected a man of Gregory’s upbringing to have experienced.
“No but I’ve seen it on the tele, and I used to play cricket at school.”
That made Mycroft’s head turn. “You… played cricket?”
“Yup. I made the university team too.”
It was obvious that the thought of Greg in cricket whites was giving Mycroft pause. “I took you for more of a rugby man…”
“Football actually, but I’m not averse to a bit of a scrum down.” The inflection on that phrase was positively obscene. “So, this jacket…” Greg grinned. “Try it on at least. For me?”
“Oh, very well, Gregory. If it makes you happy.”
“It would, believe me. You know what else would make me happy?” Greg leaned in and placed his lips against Mycroft’s ear. He felt the man shiver as Greg lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “You, out of that jacket, lying on a blanket in our garden, the evening sunshine turning your hair to fire, crisp white shirt open, so I can suck…”
“Gregory! We are in public…” The alarm Mycroft’s voice was clear. His trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight and he felt his husband grin against his ear, the soft rumble of Greg’s chuckle loud in the close proximity.
“So?” Greg challenged, lips moving to caress the shell before dropping a soft kiss to the sensitive spot directly behind the lobe.
“Stop! Change the subject, now!” Mycroft muttered, desperation in his tone. “Rogue…” he murmured as Greg complied, although a hand found his arse cheek and squeezed gently. “You are incorrigible, Gregory.”
“Yeah, I know. One word and I’m incouraged,” he replied, attempting a pun. “It’s why you love me.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“So, this jacket…”
Mycroft sighed “I am prepared to try it. At least if it is on my back, it might get you off.”
“Quit possibly,” Greg replied, choosing to see the double entendre. “Besides…” he added, holding the door open, “thought you liked me on your back…” He grinned at the irritated little huff that his husband expelled as he escaped the situation by darting through the door. Greg’s grin widened, knowing that there would be payback later for winding his husband up, but it would be worth it, especially if that jacket played a part.
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