"In all honesty, I've never been with a woman before."

"Neither have I," Anthea teased.

Mycroft forced a half-smile and something that resembled a light-hearted chuckle. He didn't find it amusing: this whole "sex business" but it had to be done.

It was a solemn reminder that he was only human.

Anthea was the only woman he trusted, aside from his own mother. She had a way about her that most men would find alluring, but Mycroft preferred Anthea for her skills and attributes not her appearance.

She would make a good sexual partner. She definitely had the body type for it; the majority of her strength being in her legs. However, she was still lacking in other areas.

Mycroft preferred coarse, lean muscle, in the shoulders and abdomen. Anthea was by no means flabby; she just lacked that je ne sais quoi that Mycroft was looking for in a woman.

Basically Mycroft was looking for all of the finer qualities of a man in his potential partner. Intelligence, attentiveness, dominance, class. He wanted a partner that was well-mannered, humble, honest, and committed.

Given the criteria, his dedicated PA was his only choice, but there was another he had his eye on. The only problem was this person wouldn't give him the time of day. He had to drag said person into his office and threaten him (or her) with their livelihood. This person had their own ideas of right and wrong, yet claimed to be on the same page with Mycroft.

They both wanted what was best for Sherlock, but had different ideas on how he should be handled.

Anthea, however, was always behind him, 100%. They never argued. Not that she would never dare, she was just wise enough to choose her battles. The other person was stubborn, pig head-ish, a true bother, and a goldfish in the grand scheme of things.

Anthea knew about this other person, perhaps not in as much detail as she should, but none-the-less she was aware of his (or her) existence. She wasn't the jealous type. On the contrary, she welcomed the challenge.

She had already infiltrated Mycroft's home, which up until this point was his private oasis.

After a few glasses of wine and some dancing, he was ready to give it a try. Unfortunately, by the time they reached the bedroom, shyness had taken its hold.

He didn't know whether to have it face to face or if her being pointed in the opposite direction would make things less... awkward.

She was giggling, which didn't help matters. Mycroft was self-conscious. Just the thought of all his freckles being on display was enough to make him cringe.

"We'll start slow," Anthea told him. "What do you like to do for foreplay?"

Mycroft clammed up. This wasn't polite dinner discussion; he had no automated response.

"What would you like for the detective inspector to do to you?" she rephrased.

"I... I'm-"

"Shh," she hushed, pressing a finger to his lips. "I know."

She didn't know the half of it.

Mycroft swallowed hard, trying to find the words. Never have words failed him before. He's always had the grand gift of speech for as long as he can remember, but in that moment he was completely tongue-tied.

"Close your eyes," she said in a sultry tone.

Mycroft did as he was told.

"Would you like for him to touch you here?" she asked, gently running her finger down his cheekbone to the tip of his chin.

"Yes," he responded.

Mycroft felt the first few buttons of his shirt coming undone, followed by a gentle caress of his chest hair.

"And here?" she asked.

"Yes," he said once more.

He felt a shiver run up his spine as she moved lower and lower.

"Here?" she teased.

"Yes," he whispered. He began nibbling on his lower lip.

Her hand slid down further still, to his trouser's waist. Then...

"Yes, yes!" he cried out. He needn't be asked if he wanted the detective inspector to touch him there. It was enough to make him weak in the knees.

Anthea began to grope him through his trousers and Mycroft leaned forward for a kiss.

She was surprisingly forceful. Her tongue sought out his immediately. He had to battle for dominance, which was proving to be difficult.

When she finally yielded, he decided to take things more slowly, caressing her lips with his own.

Mycroft hummed against her lips as he let his mind wander. He felt incredibly naughty, but somehow having Anthea know exactly what he was thinking made it that much more exciting.

Mycroft had never played out a sexual fantasy. Granted he didn't have many.

She pressed gently on his shoulders, guiding him towards the bed.

Mycroft's eyes fluttered open.

"No peaking," she laughed. "Turn around."

Mycroft closed his eyes once more and turned away from her.

"Here, so you don't cheat," she said as she wrapped one of his ties around his head, and brought it down to cover his eyes.

A slight panic rose in Mycroft's chest, but he knew Anthea would never do anything to hurt him.

"On the bed," she commanded and he obeyed.

Anthea helped Mycroft with his shirt. He flinched when he felt her tracing out the freckles on his shoulder.

"Angel kisses," she remarked, pressing a kiss to his right shoulder.

For a moment Mycroft was taken aback. He felt an odd sort of warmth, followed by a knot in his stomach. He wrote it off as nerves.

He heard her let out a sigh as she ran her hand through his hair. She began a trail of kisses from his neck to the tip of his shoulder.

"Get used to it," she told him, noting his stiff apprehension.

"I don't believe I ever will."

"That detective inspector will eat you up," she said with a gentle fondness in her voice as she caressed his chest. "He'll want to kiss every bit of you. Your nose," she said, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Your lips, your cheek, your chin," she said, giving him a peck on the lips, cheek, and chin. "He'll want to kiss every one of your freckles. On your shoulder, yours arms, the back of your hand..." She made a trail of kiss down his right arm. "I think most of all, he'll want to kiss you right here," she said, laying a kiss on his ring. "He'd be a fool not to worship you."

Mycroft hummed in response. She was stroking his ego. He liked it.

"Lay down."

Mycroft complied.

"Now tell me, sir, where would you like to be kissed?"

He didn't want to answer that. He knew exactly where but saying it was another matter.

"Don't be shy," she teased.

"Call me Mycroft."

"My croft."

God, how he liked the sound of it coming from her. Her tone was borderline possessive. My-croft.

He reached out to touch her. She was so soft. He ran the back of his hand across her arm.

Smooth. Flawless.

"I want you to kiss me there," he finally told her.

He could almost see the coy smile on her face. He smiled at the thought of it.

He closed his eyes, underneath the blindfold, and sucked in a deep breath as she undid his trousers.

He let his breath out slowly as she wrapped her mouth around the tip. He started to sink further into the mattress as she started working it. She definitely had skill and one hell of a tongue.

It had been far too long.

He reached out to lace his fingers through her hair and guide her in her endeavours. He was grateful she allowed him to take control once more. She effortlessly took to his directions. He knew Lestrade would never be so easy. He'd need to be tamed in the bedroom.

Gregory was a tiger, whereas Anthea was a sex kitten. He couldn't decide which was better, especially when Anthea was proving her worth between his legs.

He would just have to have both.

The idea made his cock jump.

"I'm close," he warned and Anthea backed away.

"So am I," she practically growled as she tore off her skirt.

Mycroft was surprised.

Was she playing with herself?

That's... hot.

Anthea was soon in a hurry. She mounted Mycroft quickly and sunk down on him with a deep groan. It was obvious she hadn't had any in ages. She had to take a moment to adjust herself. Mycroft worried that she might have hurt herself, taking it too quickly, but before long she was off riding him.

Mycroft tensed. It felt so good he didn't want it to end.

Her hips glided with such precision. The way she clung on to him for dear life and the noises she was making was enough to make Mycroft come undone.

Not being able to take it any longer, he removed the blindfold, to behold a truly beautiful sight. Anthea was flush and biting her bottom lip. They stared at each other a moment, before Anthea had to look away in embarrassment.

Mycroft grabbed her hips and helped her grind against him.

"What do you need?" he asked in desperation.

"Touch me," she pleaded.

I am touching you, he wanted to say. Then he realized she meant there. He stopped moving to review his gross anatomy. He looked baffled at the tangled mess of genitals in his lap.

He reached out to rub what he thought was her clitoris and by her reaction he was pretty sure he got it right.

It only took a moment or two of stimulation before she gasped and tensed.

Mycroft thought that was all, but then she started riding him fast and hard. He could feel himself becoming undone. The sensation pooled in his groin and without warning, he found his release.

He closed his eyes and let the overwhelming rush of dopamine consume him.

He was left breathless. He'd never experienced anything like it.

Once Anthea dismounted, he felt empty.

"Stay," he pleaded.

He watched as Anthea thought it over. She looked at him with such pity. He grabbed her hand and held on tight.

"I want you to stay."