rupert graves's tongue

Lost - fluffy one-shot Mystrade fanfiction

Greg was completely, utterly terrified. He looked everywhere he could. He checked the bathroom about 5 times, looked down the disgusting shower drain twice, he even went to his husband’s car that he was technically not allowed to touch.

Sighing loudly, he tried to do the “trick”, as he called it, of Mycroft and Sherlock’s. It was not a mind palace, not at all. But it was something that Greg had been trying to build up with a little help from the older Holmes.

“I surely had it when I came home,” he started his analysis by muttering under his breath. “When I came home, I put my keys here and my wallet…” Greg moved to the place he was talking about - a tiny table that was standing near the entrance of the house. “Here,” he assured himself of his previous actions by patting the wallet laying just where Greg thought it would.

“It’s not possible that I have lost it in the shower as I went straight to the kitchen and took out a beer. Did I have it on while making dinner? Yes, yes… For sure I did… I still had it on then,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. This soft movement messed up with his beautifully silver hair a little bit.

If he doesn’t have it on by the time Mycroft is back home, his husband will surely notice and get absolutely mad… Lestrade reminded himself about that one time he lost Mycroft’s private journal. Mycroft gave it to him to check if he was trustworthy and if he wouldn’t look at what was inside. The pretext for giving it to Lestrade was something as stupid as: “I am going to Sherlock’s and I cannot have it with me because he will surely steal it from me. I should have left it at home but since I didn’t, I would very much appreciate you taking care of it until tomorrow when we shall meet again, Detective Inspector.”

Mycroft knew that Lestrade had not looked inside of his journal. First of all - he lost it somehow. Second of all - he did not comment on the fact that the journal was nothing more than “MYCROFT LESTRADE” or “GREGORY HOLMES” or “M+G” calligraphy…

(In the end, the “Gregory Lestrade-Holmes” ended up to be the case that Mycroft was “wondering” about)

“Gregory, darling, I’m home!” Mycroft laughed softly, entering the house of the two. Greg approached him shyly, keeping both of his hands behind his back.

“Welcome home, hubby,” he said, giving Mycroft a sweet peck on the cheek.
“I thought we have agreed upon this awful nickname,” Mycroft rolled his eyes. He quickly eased on his tone, when he saw the most beautiful dark eyes staring into his own.

Holmes placed his long-fingered hands on his husband’s waist, securing his walk as he guided him to the nearest wall.
“Well, it’s either that or Myc. Or My. Or Mickie. Or May. Or…” Greg said teasingly, coming up with new nicknames, but was quickly hushed by his husband’s soft lips on his own. He almost immediately put his hands on Mycroft’s cheeks to deepen the kiss but kept in mind the importance of not showing Mycroft his hands now.

“You know I’m only allowing you this bad behavior in exchange for your sweet moans being "Mr. Holmes” at night…“ Mycroft said seductively in the low voice of lust that Greg adored wildly.

"Technically, I’m also Mr. Holmes since February, so…” Greg giggled, causing sighing Mycroft to push his head back in annoyance.
“It’s only been two months, I can still easily get rid of your disrespectful manner in a matter of days,” Mycroft joked, running his long nose on his husband’s neck.
“Myc, you wouldn’t survive a day without my witty comments.”

“I’m afraid you might be right, husband mine,” Mycroft whispered into the neck of the love of his life. He then lightly bit it, only to start leaving soft and long kisses on this tanned skin.

That was the moment Greg had lost it.
“Take me to bed,” he demanded, pulling Mycroft’s face up and joining their lips together in a hot kiss, full of love and desire.

But Mycroft was a smart man. Well, probably the most intelligent man in England. If not in the whole world.
And if was all thanks to his observation skills.

“Gregory,” he started, pulling away from the kiss.
“Oh God, I am so so-…” Lestrade began his explanations, realizing what the younger man might have noticed.
“Where is your wedding ring?”

“I am… I am so sorry, Myc, darling, I have no idea, I looked everywhere, I swear I did, it’s just gone, I don’t know where, I really don’t, I’m so sorry,” Greg left his husband’s warm embrace to escape the gaze of those icy-blue eyes that could have pierced into his soul.
“You lost it?” Mycroft asked, even if he knew the answer.

“I’m afraid I have, yes…”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because you would flip out!” Greg suddenly raised his voice as if it was nobody’s but Mycroft’s fault that the ring was nowhere to be found.

“I can indeed understand where you could get that idea from but do you see me "flipping out”?“ Mycroft came closer to the shorter man, putting his protective arms around him. He knew that it was a big deal, a wedding ring, but on the other hand - did that really matter? He would just get Gregory a new one, that was everything but a problem in his book.

He decided to say his thoughts out loud.
"The jewelry stores are quite likely to be still open, we can-…” Holmes started but was interrupted by the devastated DI.
“I don’t want a "new” one! I want the one that you slid on my finger over two months ago, claiming your undying love and that you will never, ever leave me!“
"Gregory, I do not understand why you’re getting angry with me. You act as if I was the one who lost it,” Mycroft started getting really irritated with the whole situation as well.

He hated seeing his dearest Gregory mad or helpless and right now he was a combination of both. Over a stupid, in Mycroft’s opinion, ring…

“It’s just…” Greg started to explain himself, trying his hardest to avoid Mycroft’s piercing gaze. “I might be too "ordinary” as you or Sherlock would say for what I’m about to imply but… Ok, so it’s just a ring. A piece of metal. And it can be bought anywhere anytime. That’s what you think of it, isn’t it?“ he looked up at Mycroft but his face was full of concern and a reply did not came.

"Well,” Greg continued, “for me it a sign to the entire world that I love one wonderful man and he loves me back. That we will be together till death do us part. Even, actually, even if it does, we’ll manage to find one another and still be together. Because I love this man so madly I will not die until I’m sure I’ll have him in the past life too…” Greg said quietly, tiny amounts of tears appearing in his brown eyes.

Silence fell between the two men. Greg was looking down, rubbing his hands together. Instead of that movement calming him, he could again feel his naked finger…
“Gregory, I love you,” was all that Mycroft managed to say after all. He leaned down to cup Lestrade’s cheek and kiss him sweetly.
“And I you,” came the response.

“It’s just a minor inconvenience, darling, that you cannot find it now,” Mycroft said, kissing the top of Greg’s head. “Whatever it takes to find it, I will provide it. I promise. Even if it takes ten consulting detectives,” he chuckled sweetly, hearing the older man laugh in a very modest way at the joke.

“I love you. To the Moon and back,” Greg whispered, hiding his face in his husband’s chest.

“So roughly 768 800 kilometers of love,” Mycroft couldn’t help but state, causing both of them to giggle.

When they went to bed that night, the last thing Mycroft expected to hear, while kissing his husband fiercely and taking of his button up, was a soft noise of metal hitting the wooden floor.

“What was it?” Mycroft stopped making out with Greg, but Greg didn’t stop making out with him - his pink lips traveled on Holmes’ face, leaving random little kisses. His hands started unbuttoning Mycroft’s waistcoat so that it would be thrown where his long gone jacket was. On the floor.

“What was what?” Greg whispered in between the kisses.
“That "ding”, if I allow myself to say so,“ Mycroft said slowly, gently pushing Greg away to his very surprise.

"What "ding”?“
"When I took off your shirt,” Mycroft knelt on the floor, patting it with his hands, “something fell out of your front pocket.”

“Something like,” Greg joined Mycroft on the floor, “my wedding ring, maybe?”
Mycroft felt the coldness of gold underneath his finger…

“Now, why exactly did you hide it in your front pocket and how exactly then forgot about it?” Mycroft asked, with a genuine smile on his face, showing the ring to Greg. The DI took it into his own hands and brought it close to his chest, as if he was about to hug the hell out of the golden ring.

“Oh my God, Myc, you found it, you found the ring!”
“Can you at least tell me how did it end up in your pocket?” Mycroft giggled, softly stroking his husband’s cheek. A little bit red cheek from all the hotness of the pre-sex kissing

“Oh…” Greg opened his eyes widely. “I put it there before making dinner!” He suddenly stopped his story, embarrassed with the reason why the ring ended up in his front pocket. “I hid it there because I was afraid of losing it in the… Cooking proces…”

Mycroft bursted out laughing. He couldn’t stop, laying down on the floor and wiping away the tears that started appearing in his blue eyes.
“Oh my darling, oh my love,” Mycroft giggled, back down on the cold floor. Greg wasn’t half as amused as his husband but seeing him laugh so much and in such a adorable way… Greg started chuckling himself.

“It’s not THAT funny,” Greg said quietly, lying down next to Mycroft and putting his head on his chest.
“It is, husband mine,” Mycroft giggled quietly, his lips against Greg’s forehead. “But don’t be afraid of ever losing anything again. I think I just proved how great I am in finding things that are yours.”

“The best thing that you managed to find that is mine,” Greg started, “is my heart.”

Still on the floor, the two men shared a long and passionate kiss. It wasn’t filled with lust or with desire. It was a loving kiss of two husbands, who will stay together till the end of time - regardless of having rings on their fingers or not.

“Can I see yours?” Gregory asked, reaching to Mycroft. Holmes didn’t exactly knew what was the point of seeing the two rings together. Especially now, after Gregory proved how good he was at losing things. Luckily, Mycroft was good at fining them, apparently. That was why they were made for each other.

Although hopefully Gregory will not lose their child if they ever have one…

Thinking about this silver-haired man as a father, Mycroft took off his wedding ring and handed it to his husband.

All that Greg wanted was to look inside of the rings to see the engraving.
On Mycroft’s, he could see the words “To the Moon and back”. On his own - “768 800 kilometers”.

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Rupert Graves 2017 first half recap as S4 broadcast in Japan celebration post. Hope this looks slightly better quality than the “Happy Birthday" one.
My last post was marked as adult content by Tumblr and it made me upset because I felt like I insulted Rupert. I think this could follow the same path because of swim shorts Rupert (too sexy?) so I’m sad already…

#Silver Fox Saturday!

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I love him in leather. So do you, don’t you?

Happy #Silver Fox Saturday!

By the way, this is my second post this year!  Well…just time flew so fast.  And it’s June, the most important month of year for us but I haven’t prepared anything yet and know nothing about birthday events and have just donated today and still trying to catch up with it.  Monkeys…..?