Decision Time VI
Mycroft blinked slowly. How odd it was that such simple words could make his heart skip a beat in trepidation. But Greg’s eyes were warm and kind, his voice amused, and so Mycroft deliberately let go of his fear, leaning in to rub their cheeks together briefly. He smiled as Greg rumbled out a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction, turning his head to capture his lips, laughing into his mouth as his lover took the opportunity to give his bum a hard squeeze.
“Behave, ruffian.” Mycroft drew back, shaking his head fondly. “We don’t want the bath to go cold on us.”
Greg drew back with a rueful smile. “God, no. I need it too badly.” He started to work on the buttons of his shirt, huffing out a quiet laugh as his hands were captured and set firmly down at his sides.
“Allow me…” Mycroft kept his eyes focused on his task, nimbly undoing the top button and trailing his fingers over the tidy bit of chest hair that was exposed before moving on to the next. Before long he was pulling Greg’s shirt out of his trousers, running his palms up his torso, skimming over his nipples and resting lightly on his shoulders. With a gentle shove, the shirt was discarded on the floor, and Mycroft simply stood there for a moment, his fingers cradling the trapezius muscle on either side of Greg’s neck.
He tightened his grip on the taut muscle, feeling his blood rush south as Greg tipped his head back with a low groan. Renewing his grip, digging his fingers in deep and rubbing hard, Mycroft bit his lip to return clarity to his brain and leant in a bit closer, whispering low and rough. “Take off your trousers.”