Work Text:
Mycroft entered his 5th floor walk-up to the sounds and smells of home. Of a 90's rock sing-along, the music nearly drowning out the angelic voice of his partner. Of the smell of coq au vin and roasted potatoes and veg. Mycroft walked into the kitchen to see the aforementioned partner facing away, slicing strawberries.
Greg didn't hear Mycroft enter the flat, or the kitchen, and was startled by the sudden presence at his back. He leaned back and laid his head down on Mycroft's shoulder and hummed. Mycroft kissed his head and hummed back while wrapping his arms around the toned waist now pressed against his own.
"You're making comfort food," he said to Greg.
"Anthea texted. Said you might appreciate some."
Mycroft started nibbling Greg's neck. "Anthea was correct. My day is greatly improved already." Greg turned and gave Mycroft a sound kiss, kneading the plush bum in the perfectly tailored bespoke trousers. He rutted softly against his parter once and then again. The kiss deepened. Mycroft plunged his tongue into Greg's mouth. He brushed Greg's tongue, the roof of his mouth, under his tongue, and across the back of his upper teeth.
The kitchen timer went off, and Greg reluctantly pulled away. "Why don't you go clean up and slip into something more comfortable? Dinner will be ready in 15."
Mycroft exited the kitchen with a big smile on his face. The first one he'd had since he arrived at work earlier that day. The evening was certainly looking up.