Mycroft was in a meeting in Bangladesh when he started getting texts from Greg.
Please come back.
He sighed. I can't yet. I'm so sorry.
The meeting continued and his phone buzzed in his pocket again.
Any idea when you'll be back? This place is too big without you.
Two, maybe three days, but I can't be certain. These meetings tend to take a turn for the worse at the most inopportune times.
At the risk of sounding like a whining teenager, I'm so lonely without you.
Careful. Don't force me to kill you out of boredom.
Bored with me already? We've been married a month.
I find my attention span lessening as I age.
I think that's a load of shit.
Believe what you want, Gregory, if that will help you sleep at night.
This should keep you entertained for a little while.
Mycroft came very close to yelping as his screen was filled with the image of a penis that he knew as well as he knew his own. He felt himself flush.
As much as I love what I see there, you cannot send me images like that in meetings like this, Gregory.
Another photo attachment, this time Greg's face with those puppy dog eyes Mycroft loved and hated so much. Why not?
I am very much distracted now. Later?
Horny now. I'll just have to take care of this myself.
You're a cruel man.
There was no response to that. Mycroft shut his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew exactly what Gregory was doing at that moment. A bead of sweat rolled down his back. He sat straighter. He could do this.
Twenty minutes later his phone buzzed again. Gritting his teeth, he opened the photo and gulped. There was a photo of Gregory's come splashed on the sheets with a message that said, Bugger, I need to wash the sheets now.
Mycroft sighed again. God, he missed him. They'd been separated for five days already and the prospect of spending more time apart was killing him. It was as he was daydreaming of his husband that someone suggested that they stop for the day. Mycroft couldn't agree fast enough and was soon dialing home from his room.
"Why hello, my busy little bee," Gregory answered, his voice relaxed.
"Were you trying to kill me," Mycroft hissed.
Gregory laughed. "Oh, love, you have no idea how much I miss you."
"You're going to give me a heart attack, Gregory," he replied weakly.
"Can't have that," Gregory responded. "You sound tense. Perhaps you should take care of that."
"I'm in my suite to do precisely that," Mycroft murmured. "Will you be able to join me yet?"
"Oh no, Mycroft. It doesn't work like that. You left me high and dry to take care of myself, so in about twenty seconds I'm ringing off and you can fend or yourself."
"Gregory." Mycroft was ashamed at how close that sounded to a whine.
"Have fun, my love." There was a click from the phone being placed back on the receiver and the line went dead.
Mycroft swallowed hard. This was going to be difficult.
He had never been an avid masturbator before he and Gregory entered a relationship. He occasionally did it now, but only in a mutual setting where he was looking right at Gregory. He didn't have the most vivid imagination and found it difficult to fantasize about anything. Now, though, he was caught in his hotel room with a hardening cock and a sudden inability to clamp down the desire that was welling up inside of him.
He quickly turned the lights out and stripped quickly and hopped under the covers to cover his body, which he was still self-conscious of. He rubbed some lotion on his palm and proceeded to stroke himself, hoping to get off as quickly as he possibly could. God, he was so uncomfortable.
It was a relief when his phone buzzed. How's it going?
Dreadfully. It appears my old aversion to self-pleasure is still alive and well when you aren't with me.
Flattery won't get me on the phone, Mycroft. Just replay something we did that you loved.
Mycroft groaned. He was so bad at visualizing in situations such as this one. He let go of his cock, still half limp, and laid back, trying to think of something that had happened between the two of them that he loved.
Immediately, he thought back to their wedding night, where Gregory had taken him apart and he had ridden him until they were screaming. Where had they started? Oh yes. Gregory had raked his nails up and down Mycroft's body, gently. Mycroft began to imitate the motions he had gone through, rubbing his body ever so gently. Ah, that was better. The nerve endings that he passed over with his fingers felt as if they were on fire, and his cock finally gave a twitch of interest. What had happened next? Gregory had done something with his nipples. Mycroft moved his fingers up and circled his areolas, then pinched lightly as he remembered the light pressure of Gregory's teeth on the hard buds. Oh God that felt fantastic. Mycroft pinched again, this time a bit harder. His cock was showing definite interest now and he dragged his palms down his body and traced little concentric circles on his hipbones, then pinched lightly on the insides of his thighs to simulate the love bites that Gregory had placed there. He could practically see Gregory's face as he reverently stared at his cock and licked a continuous stripe up the vein on the underside and then had dipped his tongue into the slit on the head. He had breathed into it and had whispered something about how this was his favorite taste in the world, and Mycroft had melted under his words. He had stroked his cock firmly – yes, just like that – and then had moved lower down to take his balls into his mouth. Mycroft cupped them. It wasn't the same as the hot, wet heat of Gregory's mouth but it was wonderful nonetheless. Gregory had pressed a knuckle lightly but firmly into his perineum and had externally massaged his prostate. That had been wonderful, but not as wonderful as his tongue, strong and flat, pressing into the same spot moments later. Mycroft grabbed the lotion on his bedside table. He traced a wet finger around his rim, pretending it was Gregory's tongue, and then gently pushed it inside. He worked it in and out for a few moments, keeping it stiff like Gregory had kept his tongue as it had breached him. God, he needed to touch his prostate badly. He pulled out and slicked up two more fingers, then spent time putting them in. He was thankful he had long fingers because he could crook them upwards and there. He cried out, clenching painfully on his fingers. Catching his breath, Mycroft began to caress his prostate lightly and that was heaven. He wished Gregory was the one caressing him, with his thick fingers inside of him as well as wrapped around his erection.
"Gregory," he choked. His voice was thick with arousal and he gave himself one final, firm stroke before moving his hands to his sides, acknowledging the fact that they had had to take a break on their wedding night in order to stop themselves from coming. He breathed deeply, grounding himself. Inadvertently, he reached to the side of the bed that Gregory slept on and went for his hand. It was incredibly disappointing when no one took his hand and squeezed the way that Gregory always did.
Tamping down his frustration at the lack of husband in the bed, Mycroft sat up on his knees under the covers. He knew that he wouldn't be able to come from prostate stimulation alone, unlike that somewhat humiliating first time that Gregory had touched it, and he decided that he would rather be sitting up and pretending he was riding his husband and being stroked off by him than fingering himself. Arching his back, he began to stroke himself faster, but no matter how turned on he was, he couldn't come. Frustrated, he bent on his hands and knees and took a break. He thought for a moment about other methods he could use, and he remembered something Gregory had told him about when he was younger. He had sat upon a pillow and rocked back and forth. Skeptical but horny enough to try anything, Mycroft reached back and took two pillows from the head of the bed. Stacking them, he hoisted himself up and sat on them. He began to rock slowly, gasping as the soft, downy pillow rubbed against the underside of his cock, as his balls were tickled by the motions.
Mycroft had rarely felt anything like this. His cock felt as if it were poised to explode at any second, yet he was certain that he could hold off much longer than he normally could when having sex. He experimented with rolling his hips in circles rather than thrusting forward, and he was so shocked by the pleasure that he fell forward so his arms were braced on the bed. His cock was cocooned between the pillow and his stomach. Oh this was heavenly. He continued to move, alternating between circling his hips and thrusting into the pillow. Mycroft moaned obscenely. He had no idea that masturbation could be this heavenly. He was soon incredibly close, wound tight to the point that a breeze could have knocked him over the edge. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath the way that he did when Gregory asked for his hard and he needed a moment before he began to pound into him. He inhaled a bit too deeply after a minute or so and his cock was suddenly pressed hard between the pillows and his stomach. With a moan, something snapped, and Mycroft began thrusting wildly. He managed to lift his hand up and worked it back into his hole. He reached and crooked his fingers, and with a cry, he came hard between the pillow and his stomach. As he came, Mycroft rolled to the side, ejaculating on the pillow, his stomach, and then onto the covers that he was under. He lay on his back, taking deep, gasping breaths. When he was of sound mind, Mycroft reached for his phone and flipped on the lights. He took a photo of the mess he'd made and sent it without any accompanying text to Gregory.
Mycroft moved to clean himself off in the bathroom, but his phone began to ring with a request to FaceTime from Gregory. He answered, still breathing heavily and obviously sweaty and flushed.
"You are a bad man, Mycroft Holmes," Gregory chastised sternly, his eyes betraying his amusement despite his severe face.
"Just repaying the favor," Mycroft replied with a nonchalant shrug. Gregory laughed.
"You're going to stay on the line with me right now," he demanded.
"Oh, is that right?" Mycroft asked. "Why on Earth would I do that?"
"God, because I miss you like I'd miss my arm if I lost it," Gregory admitted, his voice a bit thick. "Also, I have a little issue I'd like to take care of with you once you're feeling up to it again." He turned his phone down and showed Mycroft a shot of his cock, once again hard and red. Mycroft swallowed.
"I've only just finished," he said. "You'll have to wait a bit."
Gregory's face reentered the frame. "For you, my love, I would wait hours."
"Prolonged erections can cause priapism, Gregory dear. I wouldn't want to inflict that on you," Mycroft smiled. "We will just have to get to work just as soon as I'm ready."
Gregory smirked. "How about a bit of an experiment? I want to see how short I can make your refractory period."
Mycroft gulped. "Well, my dear, you'd best get started before I feel the need to fall asleep."
Gregory laughed, his eyes full of mischief. "Challenge accepted."
A/N: So, uh, this wouldn't get out of my head and I couldn't get past page 84 of my thesis until I got it out. Hopefully I can go back to that now.
Always the apologies to the owners of these characters. I simultaneously regret nothing and everything I've done here.