fic: Let Me Take You For a Ride

[voxangelus.livejournal.com]

Title: Let Me Take You For a Ride
Rating: NC-17
Author: voxangelus
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Verse: BBC
Words: ~1650



“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when you said you’d pick me up from work,” Mycroft muttered, a moue of distaste on his lips as he looked over the sleek motorcycle which sat gleaming at the kerb in the early evening light. His expression lightened as he took in the man leaning against the machine, dressed in denim jeans and a well-worn leather jacket. Weren’t motorcycles terribly dangerous? And he was hardly dressed for it, still in his suit.

Greg simply smirked, amusement in his warm brown eyes as he straightened and took a few steps toward Mycroft. It was their third date and as Mycroft had planned the first two, tonight was Greg’s turn. Mycroft had taken him to a fancy restaurant and the symphony a few days before, both of them dressed up to the nines.

 “We agreed; no complaining when it’s the other’s turn to plan a date, and I’m a good driver,” he chided, handing Mycroft his extra helmet and shrugging out of the backpack he wore. “Put this on – you’ll be able to fit more snugly up against my back and hold on better if you wear it instead.”

Although he had misgivings, Mycroft put the surprisingly heavy backpack on, already giving his suit up as a lost cause. “What do you have in here, rocks?” he grumbled, adjusting the straps to better fit his frame before slipping the helmet on his head and buckling it on securely.

“No rocks, I promise,” Greg replied, swinging his leg over and settling himself on the seat of the motorcycle. Mycroft managed to do the same, snug behind Greg on the leather seat. They had briefly kissed goodbye the other evening, but this was the closest Mycroft had been to the other man, and his body saw fit to remind him just how pleased it was at the circumstances. He’d had Greg on the brain ever since that all-too-short kiss. “Arms around me and don’t let go,” Greg warned, turning the key.

Mycroft gasped as the bike came to life under them, the rumbling purr of the engine causing the entire chassis to vibrate. “Be gentle with me, it’s my first time,” he muttered against Greg’s back, lacing his fingers together around the other man’s middle, wriggling his hips back a bit to attempt to hide his rapidly stiffening erection. His heart plummeted to his stomach as Greg laughed, gunned the bike, and pulled out into traffic. He tried to relax as his initial fear abated and they rode through the busy London streets toward the outlying parts of the city; but the combination of the vibration of the bike, the perceived danger, and being pressed against Greg’s warm, strong back only heightened his excitement. Mycroft daringly pressed his nose as close as he could get to the nape of Greg’s neck as he brought them to a stop at a traffic light, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, cologne, and the underlying scent that was simply Greg.

“Alright back there?” Greg called as the light turned and he took a turn onto the A202 going south.

“Better than,” Mycroft answered, throwing caution to the wind and sliding his hips snugly against Greg’s arse, shifting his arms slightly and slipping them beneath his leather jacket.

He could feel Greg’s answering chuckle as it reverberated warm and deep through his body, and Mycroft was finally able to relax properly and enjoy the pleasure of riding pillion on a motorcycle with a fit, handsome man, although his cock never got the memo and every bump in the road was a thrill. It was a perfect early summer evening for a ride, and the stress of his busy day melted away the further they got from the city.  After another fifteen minutes, Greg turned the bike onto a one-lane road into a wood, going a ways in before pulling off the road and parking.

Mycroft unwound himself from Greg and unbuckled his helmet, pulling it from his head. He was a bit sweaty, but he tried not to mess with his hair too much. Greg shut the bike off and put the kickstand down, and Mycroft scrambled off stiffly, followed by Greg.

“Well then, welcome to Sydenham Hill wood, where I got up to entirely too much trouble as a kid,” Greg said. “Thought we’d have a picnic, maybe a stroll through the woods, if you’d like.” He held his hand out for the backpack and Mycroft removed it, handing it over. Greg had clearly put a lot of thought into this date; packing a picnic and bringing him out of the city to one of his childhood haunts; Mycroft needed to get his mind off his cock and back on his date.

“Oh? What sort of trouble did you get up to, Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked, stepping close to Greg, a teasing tone in his voice. “Sneaking out after curfew? Or perhaps a spot of underage drinking?” Perhaps he could have his mind on both.

Greg set the backpack down near a tall oak and looked up into Mycroft’s ice-blue eyes with a mischievous grin. “No, mostly I came out here to snog. Sometimes to shag,” he almost purred, grasping Mycroft’s lapels as he leaned in and kissed him firmly.

Mycroft groaned, sliding his arms around Greg and returning the kiss with fervour, licking his way into Greg’s mouth. The combination of the secluded location and his aroused state from the motorcycle ride left Mycroft wanting more, and he eagerly allowed Greg to back him against a large tree on the side facing away from the path as the kiss degraded into mouthing and nipping along jawlines and necks, two sets of hands roaming.
“Could feel you against my arse the entire way out here,” Greg groaned into his ear, pressing his hips into Mycroft’s. “I had no idea you’d have that sort of a reaction to the bike.”

“It was as much a surprise to me,” Mycroft gasped as Greg slid his hand down, palming Mycroft’s cock through his bespoke trousers. “I, ah, was about to tell you that you were crazy if you thought I was getting on that deathtrap.”

“You looked all kinds of irritated when you came out and saw the bike,” Greg replied, kissing along Mycroft’s jaw as he rubbed him through his trousers. “What changed your mind?”

“Come now, it would have been terribly ungracious of me to refuse, after you went along with my plans on Tuesday,” murmured Mycroft, tilting his head to the side to let Greg continue the conquest of his jaw. “And you looked – look – remarkably fit in that leather jacket.”

Greg chuckled against Mycroft’s neck. “I’ll remember that for next time,” he said, unbuckling Mycroft’s belt. “Right now, I think some positive reinforcement is in order, since you were so brave and fair-minded, don’t you?” Greg asked, moving back to look him in the eye, his hands poised to unfasten Mycroft’s trousers.

Mycroft nodded, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “I wholeheartedly concur with your assessment, Gregory,” he agreed.

Greg winked, tugging the trousers open and slipping his hand inside as he pressed himself close against Mycroft once more, lips at his ear. “Hel-lo. Just as impressive as it seemed up against me on the bike. Not sure I can even fit it all in my mouth, but I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

Mycroft swallowed as Greg got to his knees and tugged his trousers and pants down just enough to free his reddened cock, nestled in its thatch of trimmed ginger curls. Greg glanced up at him, an appreciative smirk on his face, as he rubbed his cheek along it a few times before sliding his mouth over the tip, tongue swirling around the head. He reached up and grabbed each of Mycroft’s hands, guiding them into his short silver hair as he slid down further, grasping Mycroft’s hip. Mycroft wound his fingers into the short strands, a moan escaping him at Greg’s mouth on him.  He was tightly wound from the friction he’d got on the bike, and the wet heat of Greg’s mouth was nothing short of amazing and he told him so, breathlessly. He could feel and hear Greg’s answering chuckle, and he groaned, tightening his fingers in Greg’s hair.

Greg moaned around him at the rough treatment, sliding his mouth down further as he took a deep breath and took him in completely.

“Oh god, Gregory!” Mycroft gasped as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Greg’s throat, unable to resist rocking his hips. He looked down to make sure that was permissible, eyebrow cocked in question, and Greg met his gaze steadily, grasping Mycroft’s hips and tugging them toward him in suggestion. “You’re perfect,” he said, giving in to his baser instincts and thrusting into Greg’s mouth with a grunt.

Greg hummed in agreement, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked and licked, sliding back enough to take a breath every so often.

Mycroft realised it was all going to be over far before he wanted, as he felt the pressure build at the base of his spine. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten head, never mind been sucked off so eagerly and well. “So close!” he managed to gasp, giving Greg a few seconds warning before he plummeted over the edge, cock pulsing in Greg’s mouth.

Greg took Mycroft deep into his throat as he came, swallowing around him. He sat back on his heels, grinning up at the other man.

Mycroft shakily returned the grin, running his hand through his hair. “That was nothing short of amazing,” he sighed, offering Greg a hand up.

“I’m glad you thought so,” replied Greg, scrambling to his feet with Mycroft’s help. “Picnic now?”

“Yes, please,” Mycroft murmured, pressing a kiss to Greg’s lips. “And then I look forward to returning the favour. Perhaps I can make you scream?”

“You don’t have to,” Greg assured him, crouching down to grab the backpack.

Mycroft smirked. “Oh, but I want to.”