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Greg had pretty mush stormed into the private room at the club where Mycroft was waiting for him. None of them said a word. Mycroft was still sitting in the large armchair looking up at the man standing in front of him invading his personal space. Greg ran his fingers up the younger man's neck. His pupils dilating as he saw Mycroft stretch and expose his throat as his fingers moved towards his chin. It was the most submissive gesture Greg had ever seen from Mycroft.
Greg had arrived at the surprising realisation that he did not want to submit in a relationship, and he had no intention of doing so in this relationship. It had not been something he had been forced to think about before. Greg was an alpha-male, and none of his previous partners had challenged or questioned that. Well, Mycroft hadn’t so much challenged it as Greg just assumed that he would. The man was the British government, he was always in control, and Greg couldn’t see how this would be any different. Their eyes locked as he slowly stroked his fingers along Mycroft’s jaw line. Mycroft’s eyes were soft and warm, nothing like the blocks of ice he had been fighting with just hours earlier.
Mycroft had inserted himself into one of Greg's cases, and not in a helpful way. He had just been a pawn in Mycroft's national security game. He had felt like a puppet on strings, and Mycroft was pulling the strings leaving him only with the information Mycroft wanted him to have. When the case was closed this morning, closed not solved, it turned into a shouting match in Greg's office. And why shouldn't it? Mycroft knew who the killer was, but he was covering it up. Mycroft’s ice-cold ability to let the end justify the means collided with Greg’s red-hot need for justice. "I can't be with someone who has to control every little thing. I can't be your puppet and plaything, not at work and definitively not outside of work. If you can’t keep your hands away from my work and have to control everything like this we should call it quits right now." Greg had regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The answer could just as well have come from Sherlock, the way he rolled his eyes and used the ‘you are an idiot’-tone
“You obviously know nothing about me Gregory” Mycroft had grimaced. “I have no need for control with you.” This must be where Sherlock had learned to use his you see but do not observe line, the Holmesian way of making you feel like an idiot. Mycroft had turned on his heel and left Greg standing there confused behind his desk. Greg thought he had observed Mycroft, he had at least watched, and his only possible conclusion was that Mycroft needed to be in control. He had listened to what others said about Mycroft, not just Sherlock. One of his superiors' superiors had laughed when he found Greg outside Mycroft's office and told him that this kind of power was beyond his pay grade. Being involved in any way with Mycroft's work would leave his career a mess. He had heard Mycroft referred to as one of Britain's most powerful men more then ones. But now Greg's finger stroked Mycroft's bottom lip and the younger man took the finger into his mouth. Greg almost broke eye contact because of the action. It shot sparks through his body and his breath hiccupped. There had never been any power struggle during sex. But then Mycroft didn’t really do power struggles. When Mycroft entered a room cool, collected control radiated from him, nothing like Greg's hotheadedness. No need for power struggles during sex when Mycroft always kept a hold on a bit of his cool calculating side, never letting go completely. Never giving completely into the burning passion Greg knew. The one who sat him on fire and turned him to ashes, especially with a partner like Mycroft. The younger man knew how to push every button Greg had. The silver haired man struggled to keep his breath steady. Mycroft sitting in front of him, his shoulders were pushed back, his back straight, his throat exposed, he was gorgeous. Mycroft hollowed his cheeks around Greg’s finger. He pulled his finger out with a pop from Mycroft’s lips before he bent down and kissed him hungrily, greedily. Mycroft returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm. Mycroft craned his neck as Greg pulled back, not wanting to lose the contact.
“So I don’t know you, is that it?” There was an openness in Mycroft’s eyes Greg had not seen before.
“The last ting I need is more control. I have complete control over much of my work and family life. What I need is someone to quiet my mind, to take control. Someone I trust, trust enough to let go.” Greg rested his hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck.
“And you think I might be that someone.” The question was genuine. Greg pulled back to really look at the other man.
"I think, maybe, you could be." Mycroft looked away. "I do not trust easily, it seldom leads to anything…" Mycroft's nose twitched. "Favourable." Their eyes met again. "I think you might be the exception, if you would like to be.” Greg was stunned. One of the smartest, most powerful men in the country sat there offering himself to a simple police officer in a way he had never done before. Mycroft’s wish to give up control conjured images of whips and handcuffs in a way Greg had little experience with.
“What would that mean?” In Greg’s had never known Mycroft to give up anything thing, even the sentiment he showed was almost involuntary. This didn’t fit into what he thought he knew about the younger man, but maybe it would if Mycroft really trusted him.
“I do not know yet, that would very much be up to you. What you would like to make of it.” Mycroft tilted his head slightly. For ones, he didn’t have the answer immediately, maybe that was the point. "We could discuss it, but there is no need for you to run off because you think I'm going to control you in this relationship. There must be…" Greg kissed him, stopping him from finishing his ideas of what could happen.
“We’ll find out,” Greg said without pulling away. “I’ll figure it out.”