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The Grand Scheme of Things

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I don't know if you know, but I just want to tell you so

That you're the wisest funny one that I will ever, ever know

I don't know about you but, oh, I love us as a two

Find me a wild road and I will name it after you

 

You took all the lonely days and you made them sing

You turned off the alarms so they don't ring

I don't know where we are in the grand scheme of things

But I just want to be hugging you tonight

-'Hugging You' Tom Rosenthal & Billie Marten

 

The curtains blow with the wind, thin enough to allow the afternoon light into their bedroom. The stream beside their cottage is loud in the silence of their room; Greg’s deep breathing and the birds outside are the only other sounds.

Mycroft sits up amongst the pillows, Greg’s head warm against his left leg, his arms thrown over Mycroft’s thighs. As curled up as he is in sleep, he’s managed to tangle their legs together. Mycroft stares down at him in wonder.

 

The summer breeze is calming, he and Greg are both naked.

The sheets that cover them are light and soft, the duvet pushed down onto the floor.

They’d escaped London for the weekend, and are staying in their cottage in the Lake District. There’s no one around for miles, they’re safe enough to leave the window open; no worry about their moans and shouts of joy being overhead by nosy neighbours.

As time goes by, they are finding themselves here most weekends.

Retirement looms in both their futures, but it no longer unwelcome.

Now, their futures stretch out in front of them, intertwined until death does them part.

 

Mycroft’s fingers glide across Greg’s scalp, through his glorious hair. Mycroft often finds himself sitting here in disbelief.

Gregory Lestrade-Holmes is his husband, and Mycroft adores and loves him so much that sometimes it feels like his life is a dream, that sometimes he feels so full of love that he could explode. That he will never tire of the man who has his heart, who guards it with all his love. Just as Mycroft guards Gregory’s. 

Greg murmurs something incoherent in his sleep, shifting slightly, tilting his head into Mycroft’s hand, Mycroft continues to run his fingers through Greg’s hair.

 

So much has happened in both their lives to allow them to be here together.

Overwhelming loneliness has been obliterated by endless love.

Greg has helped Mycroft to realise that there’s more to life than just existing, and Mycroft is forever grateful to him.

Mycroft watches Greg sleeping peacefully, tears sting his eyes. He’s felt more happiness within the last five years than he had in his whole life before Greg.

His life seemed to be composed in stages: Before Greg, and After Greg.

Though, they have known each other for ten years.

They are five years together last month, three years married next week.

 

In all his lonely years, Mycroft had never dared imagine that he’d marry, that he’d find the love of his life. That they’d have a cottage in the countryside where they can make love all day if they wanted, never worrying about interruptions.

Life here is rapidly becoming more enticing, both of them have been tiring of London.

 

Sundays now have become sacred.

Their bedroom is where they prepare for the week ahead.

No alarms; waking up when they wish. Tangled in each other’s arms.

Soft kisses, wandering hands, the warmth of naked skin.

Heavy breathing, soft moans, becoming one.

And repeat.

 

Greg shifts in his sleep, and Mycroft watches him lovingly.

“Mmph.” Greg huffs and Mycroft shakes with silent laughter, joy strikes like lightning through his veins.

Greg opens his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the afternoon light. His chocolate eyes sparkle as they focus on Mycroft’s face. Mycroft trails his fingers from Greg’s hair to Greg’s cheeks, softly caressing his face, Greg leans into the touch.

“Sleep well, my love?” Mycroft asks, pulse jumping as Greg caresses his thigh, his hand slowly moving higher with clear intent.

“Mhmm.” Greg hums, “Love you.” His voice is still rough with sleep, the rumble of it sends a surge of heat through Mycroft’s body, a quiet moan escapes him when Greg’s fingers, sure and strong, wrap around his hardening cock and begin to stroke slowly, no rush.

“C’mere, darlin’.” Greg whispers, letting go of Mycroft’s cock, chuckling softly as Mycroft moans at the loss of Greg’s warm and sure hand.

He also cannot deny Gregory of his wish.

 

Mycroft scoots down in the bed, lying on his side, chest to chest with Greg, at eye level Mycroft can’t help but smile at his sleepy-eyed husband.

“I love you.” Mycroft whispers, leaning in to kiss Greg.

Greg tangles their legs again, trails his fingers down Mycroft’s spine, smiling against Mycroft’s lips as he shivers.

He tilts his hips towards Mycroft’s; their erections brush against each other and they both moan in a mixture of pleasure and relief.

The kiss deepens, Mycroft’s hand at the nape of Greg’s neck, keeping him close.

Greg’s hand on his back slowly moves across Mycroft’s hips and in between their bodies, taking both of them in hand.

Mycroft cries out, the sound muffled by Greg’s lips, and Greg takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into Mycroft’s mouth.

Mycroft can’t help but to sigh in happiness, Greg’s taste is familiar and safe.

Greg’s hand moves slow and sure, and Mycroft’s hand joins Greg’s between them.

 

Their movements are synchronised, hips and hands, echoing moans.

Mycroft’s skin is so sensitive that he can feel the afternoon air over his nakedness.

The sheets are gone, Greg had kicked them off of them once Mycroft had lay down by his side. Greg’s warmth against his skin makes him feel hot both outside and in.

Mycroft hums into the kiss, his hand over Greg’s slowing them to a stop.

Greg opens his eyes, Mycroft’s breath catches when he sees the depths of them; shining with love that’s directed only on him. Mycroft is certain Greg is seeing the same reflected back at him.

“Change of plan, darlin’?” Greg asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear, he bites into his bottom lip as Mycroft nods, cheeks full of blush. “Tell me.” He whispers, he’s positively glowing, the cheeky smile on his face sends Mycroft’s heart into overdrive.

 

Greg watches with interest as Mycroft slips his hand under the pillows, drawing out the bottle of lube that they’d been using earlier. Greg’s raised eyebrow in response makes Mycroft giggle.

He’s never trusted anyone as much as he trusts Greg, has never felt as secure as he is with his husband.

Mycroft can feel the heat of a blush across his cheeks, knowing that he’s probably scarlet, even though there will be no judgement in this room.

Greg caresses Mycroft’s cheek, pressing a kiss to the tip of Mycroft’s nose.

“How do you want me, darlin’?” He breathes against Mycroft’s lips, “I’ll do anything.”

Mycroft closes the few centimetres between their lips, “On your back.” He murmurs before kissing Greg with a sense of urgency.

Greg only nods, rolling onto his back, and laughing as he pulls Mycroft with him.

Mycroft nuzzles into Greg’s neck, sat astride his thighs.

“I love you.” He whispers, mouthing at Greg’s neck, his hand deftly opening the bottle of lube with a click that seems to echo through the room.

 

Greg holds him so close it’s impossible to move until he kisses Greg on the lips once more, then Greg’s hold lessens, his hands going to rest on Mycroft’s arse.

Mycroft salivates even just looking at Greg’s hard cock, thick and perfect and he’d take it into his mouth right this second if he didn’t have other plans.

After all, he can worship Greg’s cock with his mouth later on.

Mycroft warms the lube on his hands before coating Greg’s erection with it, delighting in the soft moan that erupts from Greg. His fingers squeezing his arse cheeks, and he grins up at Mycroft with the smile that Mycroft fell for straight away.

Mycroft can only nod, shaking slightly with anticipation. Greg holds out his fingers and Mycroft understands the unsaid and squeezes out some lube. Mycroft raises from Greg’s thighs, kneeling over him, giving Greg access.

 

Mycroft closes his eyes as he feels Greg’s warm fingers sliding between the cleft of his arse, searching for his hole. When a finger breaches him, his knees go weak and he shivers from head to toe.

“That’s it, darlin’.” Greg whispers encouragingly. “Easier than earlier?”

Mycroft nods frantically, biting into his bottom lip as Greg adds a second finger.

“Look at me, Myc.”

Mycroft opens his eyes with a bit of a struggle, looking down at his lover, his husband.

“Gorgeous.” Greg praises, crooking his fingers and pressing against Mycroft’s prostate, staring up at him in wonder as Mycroft falls apart above him.

“I need you.” Mycroft says breathlessly, desperation clear in his voice.

He’s not beyond begging.

Greg withdraws his fingers, one hand offered to Mycroft to hold, the other going to his cock, Mycroft moves closer and Greg lines up with him, and as Mycroft lowers himself, Greg slides into him, filling him.

Mycroft feels whole.

 

Mycroft takes a few seconds, stills as he becomes fully seated, breathing in tandem with Greg.

He reaches out and they hold each other’s hands, squeezing slightly.

“Take everything you need.” Greg murmurs, voice gentle, thumbs stroking the back of Mycroft’s hands.

“You.” Mycroft breathes as he raises himself, “Only you-oh!” He cries out as he drops back onto Greg’s cock.

“Fuck, love.” Greg groans, “Myc.” His hands tighten on Mycroft’s.

Mycroft nods, slowly starting to build up a rhythm, slowly fucking himself on Greg’s cock, meeting the other man’s eyes the whole time. His eyes water from the lack of blinking, but it’s not an option to miss even one second of Greg’s expressions.

He wants to draw this out, make it last but Greg seems to hear the soft groan of pain as his knees begin to protest.

Greg brings one of Mycroft’s hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, then meets Mycroft’s downward thrust with one of his own.

Yes!” Mycroft shouts, almost at the verge of tears as Greg lets go of his hands to firmly grip Mycroft’s hips and fuck up into him.

Hard thrusts hitting that spot on every upwards movement, their soft moans have become louder, and neither care; they’re free here.

 

Mycroft fists his hands in the sheets by Greg’s shoulders, as Greg continues to fuck him, taking the pressure from Mycroft’s knees; he does all the moving.

Mycroft loves him infinitely.

He manages to lean down, meet Greg’s lips for a desperate, filthy kiss.

They smother their moans in it, their teeth collide a few times, but neither of them care, too intent on their own joined pleasure.

Greg’s the one that cries out first, coming warm inside Mycroft, his hips stuttering as he moans through his aftershocks, it’s music to Mycroft’s ears.

Mycroft kisses him through it, hands in Greg’s hair, he’s so close himself that he feels like there’s a fire in his belly.

“Love you.” Greg manages, albeit breathlessly.

“And I you.”

Greg closes his eyes, getting his breathing back to normal. “Let me take care of you.” Greg’s dark eyes meet Mycroft’s and they shine with determination. He squeezes Mycroft’s hips, “On your back.”

Mycroft’s not too far gone to recognise it echoes his earlier command.

 

Mycroft slowly moves off Greg’s softening cock, he whimpers at the sudden feeling of emptiness within him, and Greg hums in understanding, turning onto his side as Mycroft collapses back onto his back, exhaling the stiffness in his spine.

Greg pulls him into a gentle kiss, then wanders down Mycroft’s body with a series of open-mouthed kisses.

Mycroft knows exactly what’s happening, and his cock aches in anticipation. He opens his legs, allowing Greg to make a home between them.

Greg strokes him a few times, but then his mouth covers Mycroft’s cock, the warmth a shock to his system, and he involuntarily bucks his hips.

He murmurs an apology, but Greg just chuckles, Mycroft’s cock still in his mouth and there’s a ripple of pleasure that spreads through him at the vibration of Greg’s laughter.

Mycroft’s hand manages to bury itself in Greg’s hair, pulling slightly, enough to hear Greg moan again.

Mycroft shivers as Greg’s free hand teases his bollocks, his fingers gripping the sheets.

Greg knows exactly how to get Mycroft off; small, quick strokes, tongue laving at the head, paying attention to the glans.

And- oh! there it is; a finger in Mycroft, his opening still slick from his husband’s spend. It’s destination is his prostate, no teasing.

It’s all it takes before Mycroft’s crying out with his orgasm, shaking as Greg swallows down his come.

 

When Greg returns to his side, Mycroft feels boneless. They both need a shower, to change the bed.

But Greg wraps himself around Mycroft, and Mycroft turns into Greg’s heat, holding him close.

“Mmhm.” Greg hums, low and throaty, it makes Mycroft shiver, his skin tingles.

“Love your ideas, darlin’.” Greg murmurs, voice relaxed and sated, “Love you.”

Mycroft searches out Greg’s lips, drawing him into a slow, leisurely kiss. “I love you too.” He whispers against Greg’s lips, joining his hand with Greg’s, intertwining their fingers.

Greg smiles against his lips, Mycroft can feel it so clearly that he can’t help smiling back.

 

This is exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his life.