Mycroft Holmes was not accustomed to pain. In fact, he'd lived such a sheltered and privileged life that the only pain he had ever encountered was the stomachache procured from gorging himself on the cook's raspberry trifle. There was, of course, the odd stubbing of the toe, a paper cut from turning book page too rigorously or the occasional jab from his obnoxious brother. And yet Mycroft had never felt pain like this.

A swift kick in the lower abdomen forced all the air from his lungs. The gravel of the sidewalk was crushing into the side of his face as one boy stood over him, a shoe on Mycroft's cheek, holding him down. His lip and nose were bleeding however he was certain these boys would not stop until every bit of him was bloody and broken.

"Faggot." One boy spat viciously as the toe of his boot connected with Mycroft's stomach. Mycroft lied very still, trapped underfoot of the leader of the group. He shut his eyes and tried to compartmentalize. He had always been top notch at cataloging his feelings and storing away the ones that were not helpful.

Then, from seemingly nowhere, an angel – a savoir – appeared. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" The boy asked the other three. Mycroft dared to open his eyes but the new arrival was standing just outside his line of sight.

"Shove off mate, this doesn't concern you." The leader said pressing his foot down heavily on Mycroft's skull. It took every once of self-control Mycroft had not to whimper in pain.

"Let him go."

"I said this doesn't concern you."

"Three against one. That's hardly fair odds, is it gents?"

"If you don't piss off, his problems are going to become your problems." The leader threatened.

Mycroft's angel of mercy stepped into view, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "I'm counting on it."

One of the boys stepped forward and the angel rocked back onto his heels before lunging forward and cracking his fist into the boy's face. The shoe on Mycroft's cheek lifted as the other two moved to attack. Mycroft unsteadily pushed himself up into a kneeling position, not quite able to stand just yet. He wanted to help but realized quickly that his assistance was not required. The young man was more than capable of handling himself.

Mycroft watched in awe as his angel beat the other two boys into submission. He was obviously a skilled fighter, blocking any punches the two tried to throw before retaliating. It was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance and the man moved with such speed and agility. Neither of the two assailants landed one punch and finally the three took off running in fear.

"Are you all right?" The angel was finally speaking to Mycroft, kneeling in front of him. The boy had brown hair that curled slightly, hidden under a grey flat cap. His brown eyes were warm, soft and kind. Mycroft had never seen anyone so beautiful.

"Nod if you're all right." The angel spoke again and Mycroft realize he hadn't answered the question.

Slowly he moved his head up and down before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his monogrammed handkerchief. He dabbed at his chin, where he had felt the blood trail down. He licked the cut on his lip, caused by a ring one of the thugs had worn. His injuries were superficial, as his attackers had been just getting started when the young man intervened. He shuddered to think what would have happened if they had continued uninterrupted.

"Here, let me." The boy said taking the cloth and gently pressing it to Mycroft's cheek, rubbing it slightly to get the dried blood off.

Mycroft looked up at the boy's hands. They were large and strong, slightly calloused and well worn. Used often with hard labor. A bit of engine grease told him mechanic.

He wondered if this boy would be so quick to help if he knew just why Mycroft had been the victim of an assault. It could be easily misconstrued, the sight of them kneeling together, the boy gingerly attending to Mycroft's wounds. The boy had unknowingly made himself a target. He might as well have painted a bullseye on his back. Those boys would return at some point, probably in greater numbers to extract their revenge. His angel had, in the course of helping Mycroft, endangered himself. Mycroft felt he should warn his rescuer, but he couldn't seem to be able to speak.

"They should be ashamed of themselves." The angel said bringing the handkerchief to his mouth and licking it to help clean the wounds. For a moment Mycroft was transfixed on that beautiful mouth, wanting to move close and press his lips them. But that would be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it? "They mussed up your pretty face."

Mycroft flushed a deep red, not sure if it was a compliment or a cruel joke. Mycroft knew he was many things; resourceful, cold, calculating, manipulative, brilliant, but he knew beauty was not listed among them. He searched the stranger's face for any hint of irony or malice but found none. His angel simply smiled and kept at his work, cleaning the blood away.

"Thank you." Mycroft said, finally getting his voice back.

"Ah, he speaks." The man's smile widened.

"You really shouldn't have done that. If they find out who you are, they'll come after you."

"Doubtful, I'm only in the city till tomorrow."

Mycroft tried his best to hide his disappointment. "Then it is most fortuitous that you chose to come to London on this day."

"I suppose it is."

For a moment the two of them stared at each other and the feeling came again, the one urging Mycroft to move forward and close the space between their bodies. It was like a magnetic pull and he wouldn't be able to resist much longer.

"Look, do you live around here? There's only so much I can do with spit and a single hanky."

Mycroft was glad for something else to focus on, something to call his attention away from the impulse to kiss the stranger before him. "Yes, my flat is only a few blocks away."

"Great, can you walk or do you need me to carry you?"

Mycroft blushed again but did his best not to acknowledge the embarrassment he felt. He had always been sensitive about his weight and having someone carry him and feel just how heavy he was made him want to die of mortification. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

With grim determination, Mycroft began to get to his feet. His legs were unsteady beneath him and he worried he might fall when a strong arm slipped around his waist and held him tightly. With his feet firmly on the ground, he expected the hand of leave his side. Instead the boy took Mycroft's arm and wrapped it around his savior's neck.

They walked in tandem, Mycroft's legs still a bit shaky and his face bright red. His whole body felt just a tad warm. Being in such close proximity to his angel was thrilling and daunting at the same time. He felt an unfamiliar twitch in his pants. It was rare for Mycroft to feel sexual arousal, even more so for him to act on it. But he wanted to, very much so. He wanted to explore the glorious creature that had saved him. To taste his skin, tease it with his lips and teeth. To feel their bodies pressed together.

Mycroft stopped himself from thinking anything further. For one, he was very naïve and uneducated in the ways of the flesh. He knew the general mechanics of sex but had never indulged in the activity himself. But he also feared he was making too much out of a stranger's kindness. It was a rare occasion, one that Mycroft had not experienced very often. He was not good at meeting new people and avoided the discomfiture at all costs.

He couldn't remember the last time he had made a friend on his own. The few people he considered friends were all sons of family acquaintances and were viewed as the right type of person Mycroft should associate with. But his somewhat sheltered childhood of being an only child for the first seven years of his life, combined with his being tutored instead of attending regular school, left him ill-equipped to deal with his current situation.

Though Mycroft did not have a flair for social skills, what he did have was an unusual knack for being able to read people. It was something he had discovered about himself as he grew up, that he could manipulate people into doing what he wanted. It came in handy at the age of thirteen when Mycroft found he did not possess the same musical talent his brother did. Mummy was adamant that Mycroft just wasn't trying hard enough and insisted he spend grueling hours practicing.

Mycroft instead tricked the gardener's son, Simon, into practicing for him. Simon would sneak in through the window and practice, leaving Mycroft free to sit in the corner of the room with his nose in a book. It was Simon that made Mycroft realize where his desires lied. Not with girls, which he knew was the expectation, but with boys. He also managed to manipulate Simon into kissing him but found the experience empty. He got no pleasure in forcing someone into a situation like that. Simon had been hesitant, unsure but had kissed Mycroft anyway because it was what Mycroft wanted. But knowing he wasn't wanted back in the same way ruined it. It seemed sexual experiences, no matter how chaste, were better when they developed organically.

From that point on, Mycroft never trusted people's feelings. How could you trust something that was so susceptible to corruption? That would so easily bend to your will? Which was why Mycroft was, as the saying went, between a rock and a hard place. He knew he could use this situation to his advantage. They were on their way to his flat, where they would be very much alone. The idea of it was thrilling and he could easily find a way to get his beautiful angel into bed. He'd never used his talent for these means before. It wasn't how he wanted it to happen though.

As they got closer to his flat, he realized that he very much wanted it to happen. All it would take would be some very meaningful glances; some suggestive touching and Mycroft would get what he so greatly desired. Yet the experience would probably be hollow as it had been with Simon. Empty and meaningless and unsatisfying. No he would not make a move and let the fate of the afternoon rest entirely in the hands of his savior.

"It's just up here." Mycroft pointed when they got to his street.

He had to pull away to grab his keys to unlock the door and he felt the loss of the body next to his own. Mycroft led the way up to his flat and opened the door, sweeping inside and waiting for his companion to join him. Mycroft's flat was, in a word, immaculate. There wasn't a single thing out of place and everything was hoovered and dusted. His books were arranged by genre and then alphabetized within their category. His school books were neatly piled on the desk, arranged in the order he would need them to complete his assignments.

The flat itself was quite nice and when Mycroft had gone looking for his own place with mummy, he'd fallen in love with this one almost instantly. It was close enough to his university that he could walk if the mood suited him. The walls were a classic creamy white and it had a large and fully stocked kitchen. The sitting room had two large, overstuffed leather chairs and a sofa to match. But what had really sold Mycroft on the flat was the balcony. Large, curved with a beautiful view. Mycroft liked to stand out there when the weather was nice and fancy himself as a character in an old movie.

"Nice place."

"If you wouldn't mind removing your shoes." Mycroft said before slipping off his own and placing them by the door. He watched as the boy toed off his boots and left them beside Mycroft's. Mycroft nodded in approval and went into the kitchen, knowing the other man was following him even though their footsteps made no noise on the carpet. It was instinctual, he could just feel the presence of another person. It probably came from extended periods of time spent in solitude. This new person was disrupting the balance and what a wonderful disruption it was.

Mycroft grabbed the tea towel and went to the fridge to get some ice. He had hardly opened the door when the other boy was standing very close behind him. "Let me." He said taking the towel from Mycroft and reaching past him into the freezer. Mycroft forced himself to swallow and moved away, leaning against the counter. He took a moment to appraise his angel. The strong muscles in his back, the straightness of his spine, the curve of his buttocks.

"Thank you." Mycroft said again. He could feel heat pooling in his lower abdomen and he forced himself to look away.

"I'm Greg, by the way, since you didn't ask."

"Oh my, you must think I'm terribly rude." Mycroft's hand lifted to his mouth in shock. Had he really not asked for his angel's name? Surely he had better manners than that.

"I never got a chance to ask yours either." The angle- Greg- pointed out.

"Mycroft."

"Strange name."

"Indeed."

"Eccentric parents?"

"Something like that."

"Well Mycroft, it's nice to meet you." Greg said with a smile as he filled the towel with ice.

"You as well." Mycroft returned the smile.

Greg finished with the ice and moved so he was standing directly in front of Mycroft. Mycroft almost got lost in those warm and inviting brown eyes. Greg placed the towel on the counter and then his strong hands came to rest on Mycroft's waist. He was about to ask Greg what he was going to do when Mycroft was suddenly lifted up off the ground.

"Up you get." Greg said moving Mycroft so he was sitting on the counter top. Mycroft tried to protest but it was over so quickly and Greg already had the cold and slightly damp towel pressed to Mycroft's face. Greg moved closer and was standing in between Mycroft's open legs, one hand on his thigh. Mycroft begged his body not to show his arousal. He didn't want to alarm Greg.

Greg stayed on task marvelously, attending to Mycroft's lips, cheeks and nose. Soon his features were rather chilly from the ice. Greg's rough hands were surprisingly gentle and he handled Mycroft with care, like he was something precious. The intimacy of their current situation was overwhelming and Mycroft had to struggle to stop his thoughts from running away with him.

"Did they hurt you anywhere else?" Greg asked softly.

"No." Mycroft lied. The last thing he needed was Greg inspecting his stomach.

"I saw one of them kick you in the stomach."

"It's fine." Mycroft insisted as Greg's hands moved to his shirt. He rested his hands on top of Greg's to stop him from lifting up his shirt. "I'm fine."

Mycroft could feel his palms getting sweaty as they stayed close together, hands touching. They stood like that for a moment, neither of them moving. "Oh God, please let me kiss you." Greg said breathlessly.

Mycroft's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh. Yes. If you'd like to."

"I would." Greg moved his hand up to cup the back of Mycroft's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was chaste at first, soft lips pressed together. Mycroft felt a hint of tongue against his lips, an offer, an invitation to open his mouth. He obliged and Greg's tongue slipped in, gliding against Mycroft's.

Mycroft groaned, a sound not often made from him. He draped his arms around Greg's shoulders and kissed him back in a way he hoped was pleasurable. He moved one of his hands up, pushing his fingers into Greg's thick, dark hair. This was more than Mycroft had ever dared hope. His angel, his beautiful angel, kissing him.

Greg broke the kiss and began a trail of kisses from Mycroft's jaw to his neck. "Will you make love to me?" Mycroft asked in a whisper.

"Yes." Greg answered, his voice equally as quiet.

Mycroft slid off the counter and laced his fingers through Greg's, tugging him towards the bedroom. Greg pulled back, making Mycroft stumble into Greg. Their lips found each other again as Greg pushed him against the wall, his hand moving down and palming Mycroft's erection through his trousers. Mycroft moaned in response.

"I've-I've never…"

"It's ok." Greg said giving him a few gently kisses. "Just tell me if it's too much and I'll stop."

They finally made their way into the bedroom, Greg making quick work of the buttons on Mycroft's shirt. He slipped it off his shoulders and the expensive silk fell into a heap on the floor. It didn't matter, the shirt was already ruined from the attack earlier. Greg's hands grazed lightly over the dark, angry bruise on Mycroft's stomach, his mouth turned down in anger.

"Why did they hurt you?"

Mycroft closed his eyes. He'd been waiting for this question. But how to answer it? "Because I'm different." He offered up.

"Because you'd rather be here with me than off chasing women." Greg translated.

"Yes." Mycroft nodded.

"I should have beaten them more severely. I should have—"

Mycroft leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss. There would always be people like that, people who hated them for not being the way they were supposed to. Now was not the time to dwell on it. Mycroft pulled away to lift Greg's shirt over his head and then went right back to kissing him. He tangled his fingers into his gorgeous head of hair, enjoying the feelings of their naked chests pressed together. Mycroft could feel Greg's heart beating, racing just like his own.

Greg reached forward and undid the button and zip on Mycroft's trousers, pushing his briefs out of the way to grasp him. "Oh my." Mycroft gasped in surprise. It was one thing to be felt through layers of fabric, it was quite another when Greg was touching him directly.

Greg did a few pumps with his hand, their lips still connected. Mycroft felt like he might melt into a puddle of lust. He reached out and clumsily worked on Greg's belt buckle, his fingers failing him in every way possible. Finally he got the belt undone and unzipped Greg's pants, tugging them down.

They both stepped out of the remainder of their clothes and made their way over to the bed. Greg pressed Mycroft into the pristinely made bed before lying down on top of him.

"How…could…they…hurt…you…" Greg said in between trailing openmouthed kisses down Mycroft's torso.

"How could something that feels this good," Greg paused to lick the underside of Mycroft's cock, causing his back to arch into the sensation. "Spurn so much hatred?"

"Some people are closed-minded." Mycroft answered, his mind derailing as Greg took his cock into his mouth and sucking it hard.

"They don't know what they're missing." Greg replied after letting the penis fall from his mouth.

Greg moved back up to kiss Mycroft again. He rocked his hips, their erections sliding against each other. He continued to go it and Mycroft began moving his body as well, increasing the friction. Mycroft felt his body begin to tremble as everything went into sensory overload. "Greg!" Mycroft shouted, clutching at his hair as his body convulsed.

"Oh my." Mycroft bit his lip, looking down at the come he had sputtered all over himself and Greg. "Oh dear, how embarrassing."

"Why are you embarrassed?" Greg asked nuzzling Mycroft's neck.

"We'd barely gotten started. Isn't it supposed to last longer than that?"

"It was your first time. I wasn't expecting you to last for hours." Greg moved up and nibbled Mycroft's ear. "Besides, we're not done yet."

"Oh yes, of course, you still have an erection."

Greg snorted. "How do you manage to sound classy and proper even now?"

Mycroft just smiled and trailed his finger down Greg's arm.

"Do you want to go further? We don't have to."

"No, no. I want to."

Greg nodded and kissed Mycroft, warm and wet. Mycroft saw Greg's eyes flicker to the moisturizer on the bedside table and cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "Dry hands." Mycroft explained nervously.

He'd been very ready for this, craving it but now that it was actually going to happen, he found himself somewhat anxious. Greg pumped some of the moisturizer into his hand and coated his fingers. "Relax." Greg said reassuringly before pressing his lips to Mycroft's.

Greg's hand trailed down, leaving smears of moisturizer across Mycroft's belly before running a finger against the cleft of Mycroft's arse. Slowly the finger pushed in and Mycroft gasped into Greg's mouth. The finger moved slowly, deeper inside and Mycroft squirmed against the uncomfortable and foreign feeling. Then the finger was joined by another and Greg began moving them, pushing them steadily in and back out.

He scissored them inside Mycroft and he could feel his body opening up, accepting this new sensation. A third finger was added and the three moved together and Mycroft found himself pushing himself into the sensation, his body begging for more.

Greg pulled his fingers out and his lips left Mycroft's, causing him to whimper. "Put your legs around me." Greg instructed and Mycroft did as he asked, wrapping his legs around Greg's stomach.

Mycroft felt something pressing against his hole and realized Greg was about to begin the penetration. He swallowed and tried to relax, preparing for something much larger to be inserted inside him. Greg went slow, holding his cock at the base so as not to overwhelm Mycroft. His body adjusted to the feel until Greg was buried deep inside him.

His breath caught as Greg started moving, pushing himself out and in. "Fuck, you feel. Fuck." Greg exclaimed as he quickened his pace.

Mycroft lost himself in the sensation of having someone else inside him, moving deeply and eliciting such noises that he didn't think were possible. He fisted his hands into his angel's hair and held on as he got thoroughly fucked. Greg thrust in relentlessly, ending each one with a snap of his hips. Mycroft pressed his head into the pillows as the sensations continued to overtake him.

"Fuck. Oh yes. Yes. I'm close. I'm so fucking close."

"Come for me, my angel." Mycroft said softly, stroking his fingers down Greg's cheek.

Mycroft watching with fascination as his angel came undone, his body shaking with an orgasm and with a few finally thrusts, he emptied himself inside Mycroft. Greg pulled himself out and collapsed on top of Mycroft, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder and neck. Mycroft finally loosened his grip on Greg's hair and instead ran his fingers through it, making Greg hum in satisfaction.

"Will you be staying the night, or do you have somewhere you need to be?" Mycroft asked finally when he felt ready to drift off to sleep. The last thing he wanted was to wake up to an empty bed.

"I can stay, if you want me to."

"I do, very much so."

"Then I'll stay."

Mycroft awoke the next morning with his face buried deep in that thick hair he loved so much, It ticked his nose and he was forced to pull away or he would sneeze. He pressed soft kisses to the nape of his angel's neck, wondering if he should wake him or not. Greg stirred, turning onto his back and his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning." He said sleepily.

"Morning. I'm not really sure what the protocol is here." Mycroft confessed.

"I think breakfast is in order. My train leaves at three."

"Breakfast it is then."

Greg sat at the kitchen table, drinking a fresh cup of French roast coffee, while Mycroft fluttered around the kitchen making breakfast. Mycroft hummed a little song that he couldn't remember the name of and enjoyed the feeling of Greg's eyes on him.

When he had finished the apple cinnamon pancakes, bacon and eggs, he dropped one plate in front of Greg and moved to the other side of the table and placed a more modest plate in front of himself. Greg rolled his eyes and moved so he was sitting directly to the right of Mycroft before digging into his meal.

"These might be the best pancakes I've ever had." Greg said with a groan and he shoveled a rather large bite into his mouth.

"Thank you." Mycroft smiled as he sipped his tea.

"Not hungry?" Greg inferred from Mycroft's smaller helpings. He'd limited himself to one pancake, two strips of bacon and a small pile of eggs.

"Diet."

"I don't think you need it." Greg said with a shrug.

"Very kind of you to say so. My weight fluctuated quite a bit throughout my childhood. I take great care with what I eat."

It was unlike Mycroft to divulge such intimate details about himself. He tended to shy away from such sensitive topics. His weight had always been an area of concern. He had spent several years during childhood as a rather chubby boy. He'd taken great pains to grow out of it. It didn't help having a brother that liked to hold it over your head any chance he got.

The rest of their time together passed too quickly. Mycroft felt a pang in his chest at the thought of losing the first person he'd felt comfortable around. The first person he'd trusted enough to be intimate with. As they stood at his front door to say goodbye, Mycroft felt a great sense of loss. What did someone say in this sort of situation? He cursed himself for not having more knowledge of social situations.

"Well, if you're ever in London, you know where I am." He offered, hoping Greg often had cause to come to the city.

"That I do." Greg nodded with a grin.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me."

"Don't mention it."

Mycroft shifted his weight from foot to foot. He wasn't sure if he just didn't know how to say goodbye or if it was that he didn't want to.

Greg stepped forward and gingerly pressed his lips to Mycroft's. If Mycroft was sure of one thing, it was that one chaste kiss was not a proper goodbye. When he felt Greg was about to pull away, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back. Their teeth mashed together as the kiss became hard and desperate.

Greg pulled away with a groan. "You're make it extremely difficult to leave."

"That was rather my intention." Mycroft smiled wickedly and pulled Greg back in for more.

"Mycroft, I've got to go." Greg said breaking the kiss after a few moments.

"No you don't." Mycroft pulled him back again.

"I'm going to miss my train!" he cried helplessly.

"Then miss it."

"Mycroft." Greg chided. "I'm sorry but I really have to go."

"Very well." Mycroft sighed and pulled away.

"I'll see you again." Greg promised.

"I hope so."