Mycroft watched Gregory out the corner of his eye, failing in his attempt to keep from smiling. Gregory must be desperate for release if he were threatening to leave. Mycroft wouldn’t admit to needing it just as badly as he did. To keep Gregory from seeing the smile (and the tent forming in his pants) Mycroft kept his back to him, and poured himself a glass of brandy from the table beside his bed.
"For you, Gregory, I will be as distracted as a goldfish…" he murmured softly, walking to the chair in the corner and sitting down. He sipped from his glass, eyes again roaming over Gregory from above the glass. He kept this slow, he knew what Gregory wanted, and the wait would make giving it to him even sweeter.
His eyes followed Mycroft across the room, watching the man pour himself a drink and sit down in a chair. He rolled over onto his side, stayed propped up on one elbow, his eyes never leaving the younger man’s gaze.
He wasn’t sure where he got the confidence from; he and Mycroft had only been dating for a short while, and hadn’t been intimate before. It was Greg’s first relationship with another bloke, so this was all unexplored teritory for him. But he couldn’t keep himself from growing more curious every day and longing for the intimacy.
A silence filled the room as Mycroft sat there, the both of them just looking at each other and enjoying the visual exchange. Greg’s eyes were feasting on the image of Mycroft’s mouth against the crystal glass, his tongue licking the residue of the brandy off his lower lip. He subconciously responded by licking his own lips. He’d had a drink before undressing, giving himself some courage to do this and the taste still laid on his tongue.
