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Mycroft flicked the page to the next one, his fingers acting of their own accord. He had read the article on page 16 four times now, but in his defence he had a very distracting partner. It was the height of the summer holidays, and in the small library room the feeling of sun was stifling. But it was stifling everywhere. He forced his eyes to stay on the page rather than Greg- who was sprawled out on the floor topless, only wearing some denim shorts. His hair had been loosely tied up half up half down, and the few stray strands at his forehead were practically screaming for Mycroft to tuck them away.
Mycroft idly licked his lip, reading the Geographical magazine with an unfocused mind. The article he had reached was about melting ice caps. If only they could’ve melted some cold water on him, he thought. He was dressed in a loose cotton shirt and trousers ( not shorts. Mycroft didn’t do shorts) and he knew even if he stripped down to his boxers, the fabric still would’ve been stuck to him. Luckily for the boys though, the slight breeze of the fan was wafting through the room and every now and then they got hit with it. He felt the shift of air as the fan changed its direction to Greg, and Mycroft couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting down to the boy. Those loose strands at his temples lifted lazily, and Mycroft clenched his jaw.
Greg had begun living with the Holmes’ two weeks ago, and his bruise has resulted in nothing more than a vague outline around his eye which you had to squint to see. On some nights, Greg slept on the bed on the floor, on other nights when his bad dreams about his da would rise up, he’d snuggle up with Mycroft under his plain green covers and let himself simply be held. It was too hot for that at the moment though, and Greg had had to resist sleeping nude on the blow up bed. He always did that at home during the summer, but he felt Mycroft wouldn’t appreciate waking up in the middle of the night and turning over to see Greg’s bare ass. For the present moment, he’d asked Mycroft if he was alright with him taking his shirt off, to which he got a stuttering “ I’m not the boss of you Gregory .” So he laid on the floor with closed eyes, wishing he could peel his skin off too.
The fan shifted over him once more and Greg felt a sudden hand at his forehead. He snapped his eyes open and Mycroft was shadowing over him, his face pinched in concentration.
“What are you doin?”
“Those few strands are driving me insane.”
“Oh. Poor Myc.”
Mycroft glared, not very menacingly when the heat of the day had shaded his face a slight pink.
“You know,” Greg bit his tongue. “Kinda hot having you lay over me like this.”
“It’s ‘kind of hot’ full stop. It’s fourty degrees Greg.”
“Still. Wanna make out?”
“Oh teenage boys.” Mycroft despaired, sitting up and leaning on his palm. “Are you all such-“
“Such?”
“Perverts?”
“Oi! I’m innocent compared to some guys I know.”
“Besides the point. Unless you’d like to get more hot and sweaty we are not, as you suggested, making out.”
“Hot and sweaty ay?”
“Oh for goodness sake.”
Greg mirrored him, sitting up and leaning his weight on his palm against the floor. He brushed his lips against Mycroft’s ear, “I’d happily get hot with you any day.”
Mycroft turned his face, his expression unimpressed but his jaw clenched. “Genius flirting Gregory. I suppose you’d like to get sweaty too?”
“Yeah. And then we’d probably have to shower.”
“To refresh?”
“Yeah. Although it could get pretty steamy there too.”
“With the temperature of the water or the temperature of our bodies?”
“Both.”
They were nose to nose, and Greg leaned forward and gently placed his lips against Mycroft’s. Since he has started staying at the Holmes’, he’d refrained from kissing him. Greg was mindful of his body and he didn’t want to wake up from any particular dreams with Mycroft laying in the bed next to him. Or in his own bed above him. But with him sitting so close, with them talking like that , he couldn’t resist anymore. Dreams be damned.
Greg let Mycroft take the lead, who was beginning to grow more comfortable and confident as their relationship progressed. He felt his palm go to the back of his neck, cradling his head where his hair hadn’t been tied up. Greg sighed into the kiss, his free hand resting on Mycroft’s knee.
“Mmm that was… that was good.”
“I’d argue that was needed.” Mycroft bumped his nose against Greg’s before resting their foreheads together.
“Yeah it’s been a while.”
They stayed silent for a little while longer before Greg sighed, moving away from Mycroft and entwining their hands together.
“So, enjoying the mag?”
“Magazine, Gregory. Do finish the noun. And surprisingly yes, I usually prefer to read novels but mummy insisted.”
“Aw she’s bringing you down off your high horse. I’m kidding.” Greg added, noticing Mycroft’s incredulous glare.
Mycroft rolled his eyes, an action that was dulled by the smile which had appeared on his face. He’d gotten quite used to Gregory’s ‘banter’. It wasn’t like how other people teased him. While peers would sneer at him and make jokes based on his weight or intellect, Greg never did that. He always smiled with his jokes, a warm smile that encouraged Mycroft to do the same, and never made a joke at Mycroft’s expense. It was rather refreshing, and Mycroft felt a surge of something positive in his chest when he recalled how this was an aspect that originally drew him to Greg.
“You best be.”
“Or what? Whatcha gonna do?”
“I’ll…”
“Go on.”
“Well, I-“
“Yeah?”
Mycroft bit his lip and leant forward once more, connecting their lips in a much more hurried manner than their previous kiss. He ran his tongue over Greg’s lip and suddenly the kiss was deepened. Greg sat up, no longer leaning against his palm, as to wrap his arms around Mycroft’s neck and trail his fingers over the skin there. Mycroft let his hands move of their own accord, and they ended up leant against his jawbone. He ran his thumb over Greg’s cheek when they parted, breathing heavily.
“We’ve… we’ve never kissed like that before.”
“Hm. Was that too much?”
Greg shook his head, “nope.”
“Good. I have to admit, I intend to do it again.”
“Go on then.”
Mycroft blushed, finding interest in staring at the corner of the rug.
“Wait. Are you shy?”
“Oh hush.”
“Please, a minute ago you were all but biting me.”
“Well it’s just- it only just occurred to me that you’re not fully dressed.”
Greg laughed, a bulstrous belly laugh, and he fell back on the floor again. Resting his hands on his stomach, he grinned. “Aw, did ya see something you like?”
“Shut up.”