A/N: OK, I updated it a day late and I'm sorry about that! I'm not as young as I used to be and I - by no means - can stay up as late as I used to, therefore I can't write as much in an evening. I'm thinking its question time: Shoot, shag, marry: Greg, Mike, Anderson. Who do you assign to where? And also, who are you siding with right now: the lovely couple, our children Mystrade, or Mike, the heartbroken teenage boy who thought he'd found love? Eager to hear your thoughts. Love you all!

-CHxxx

Greg

"Jesus," I said as I opened my eyes slowly. My head was pounding and my sight was blurred. There was a distinct silhouette above me, and I frowned hard, trying to distinguish who it was that leaned over me.

"Mr. Lestrade?"

I groggily lifted a hand to my face and wiped at my face. "My head is, like, really, really sore right now."

Mycroft - or rather, Mr. Holmes, as the headmaster was standing beside him - bent down beside me and looked at me with evident concern. "Are you alright? Can you get up?"

"Maybe," I said, my voice still slightly slurred. "I mean, I can try."

I tried to get up but fell back again. "Alright, no, you're going to need to lie down, Mr. Lestrade. You'll not be going to class for the rest of the day, I think."

"Mr. Holmes, will you take him back to his room, please? I have business to attend to before my annual visit to Nepal this Friday, including having to deal with Michael Stamford."

"Of course."

"He might need to be cleaned up too."

"I'll see that it's done."

I watched as Mycroft looked up, muttering under his breath about the pretentious twat that was the headmaster. It was just the two of us, what with it being the middle of class time.

"You look a right mess, Greg," Mycroft said as he gently helped me up. "I'd kill him myself if I could. I'd probably get away with it, too."

"If I was in his position, I would've done the same. It's fine."

"You'll need to explain that one to me. I can't understand why anyone in their right mind would punch their best friend. Though needless to say I've never had one." He slipped his shoulders under my arm and wrapped an arm around my waist. "I think this is about as close as could possibly be allowed."

"What happened to Mike?" I asked, frowning as my eyesight blacked out in spaces.

"He's been sent home for the rest of the week. If he tells anyone what he saw, he'll be kicked out of the school altogether."

"Can't have that anyway. He's my best player. And shit, he punches hard."

"Gregory..." Mycroft said warningly at my profanity.

"Sorry," I sighed. "True though. I can't feel my face."

Mycroft huffed a laugh and continued taking me to my room. Once we got inside, he locked the door and gently guided me to the bed. "Stay here. I've got to get you cleaned up. Your nose is still pouring blood out like a tap. I'm afraid my shirt's stained too."

I grimaced as I looked at Mycroft's shirt which was, indeed, stained. "Sorry."

"Not to worry. It only cost a few hundred quid. I'll just get a new one after work." To my surprise, he wasn't even remotely joking. I rolled my eyes as he wandered off into the bathroom.

I heard him rummaging around in the bathroom and wiped at my nose again, cringing at the blood on my hand. "Blimey."

Mycroft came back through, now shirtless, with some wet loo paper in his hand and an old rag that I didn't know we had hidden in the bathroom cabinet. I raised an eyebrow at him inquiringly.

"Figured I'd let my shirt soak."

"And you're going to walk out of here shirtless?"

Mycroft frowned, and it was undoubtedly one of the cutest things I'd seen him do. "Didn't think that part through very well."

"You can borrow one of mine. I'm sure something will fit. One of my school shirts or something."

Mycroft waved a hand in the air dismissively. "We can sort that out later. Right now, my love, we have to get your face sorted out. Frankly there's more blood on it than there is visible skin."

"How many times did he hit me?"

"Twice, according to someone who was walking by. Once to knock you out, another time apparently for 'good measure'," Mycroft said, using quotation marks. He rolled his eyes with an air that seemed to both age him and make him look childish at the same time. "Morons, the lot of them. I swear, Greg, they've minds the size of goldfish, I swear."

I chuckled quietly. "I'll take your word for it."

Mycroft bent down in front of me, pushing my legs apart to rest in between them. I couldn't help but allow my gaze to drift down his chiseled torso, before dragging them back up to meet his eyes, which seemed to sparkle. "Behave," he murmured, gently slipping his fingers into my hair, tilting my head back. "Try not to choke yourself on your blood, alright?" He murmured distractedly, lifting some loo paper to my nose. "That'd be... unpleasant, to say the least."

"Huh," I said, looking up at the ceiling as Mycroft wiped at my nose. "You're tellin' me."

I could almost feel Mycroft rolling his eyes as he laughed. "Hold still."

I stayed as still as possible as Mycroft cleared the blood from my face, and I busied myself by listening to the steady rhythm of his breaths, in... out... in... out.

"You're measuring my breathing, aren't you?" He asked suddenly.

"What?! No!" I said as though that was the most appalling idea on Earth. I paused for a moment, trying - and failing - to look at him while keeping my head facing upwards. "How'd you know?"

"Because you started breathing in time to my breaths. You had to slow down considerably. You must be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I snorted. "I've got you in between my legs, what about that would make me nervous?"

"Nothing," Mycroft said lightly, knowingly. He reached up and tilted my chin forward again so I looked at him directly. A crooked smile painted itself across his lips, and he leaned in to place a feather-light kiss on my nose. "There, all better."

"Thanks," I said, hooking my legs around Mycroft's body, using them to pull him in closer to me. "How can I possibly say thank you?"

"Open your mouth, think the words in your mind, and utilise your vocal cords."

"Mm," I moaned jokingly. "Talk to nerdy to me."

"That was the worst thing I've ever heard, Greg. Don't ever say that again," Mycroft laughed as he unhooked my legs from his waist, moving to crawl over me on my bed, kissing my lips gently.

"I blame my head," I said, swiping my tongue between the crease of his lips. "It's messing me up."

"Do you want me to stop?" Mycroft asked, pulling away to raise an eyebrow at me.

"No, no," I replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I find your taste to be almost medicinal."

"Medicinal, you say?" Mycroft hummed against my lips.

"Yeah. I'm sure if we keep going this way, I'll feel better in no time... Sir," I added with what I hoped was a seductive purr.

"What kind of assistant headmaster would I be if I didn't help you out?"

"A bad one."

"I agree. I'd be a very bad one indeed."

Mycroft closed the space between our lips again with a gruff chuckle, and I smiled against his lips. I wriggled underneath him until my legs were wrapped around his waist again and pressed my hips into his waist. His body heat radiated off of him and onto me even through my shirt. I wanted to be closer. I needed to be closer. I needed to touch him, uninterrupted by trivial things like clothing and concerns. I reached in between us and pulled my shirt up. Mycroft pulled away, pecking me on the cheek once more before letting me pull my shirt over my head and onto the ground carelessly. 

"Mm, you're eager," Mycroft commented as he let his hand travel down my chest and stomach, letting it linger over my belt buckle. 

"Always," I nodded over-enthusiastically, swallowing hard. Mycroft chuckled again and swiftly unbuckled my belt and pulled my trousers and pants down. He raised an eyebrow at me, questioningly, and I nodded. "Be my guest."

Mycroft shifted again so he was on his knees on the floor. He looked up me with a devilish smile on his face, his bright green eyes sparkling mischievously. I watched in amazement as he blew on my erection and I groaned into my hand. 

Mycroft snorted. "You thought that was good? You should wait until I actually get started then."

Without another word exchanged, Mycroft wrapped his mouth around my length and began swirling his tongue around my length, sucking occasionally. "Shit," I hissed in pleasure. 

Mycroft kept his gaze locked on mine and winked as I bit down on my lip. His fingers dug into my thighs, his thumbs gently rubbing circles into my skin as he firmly sucked me into his mouth. I tangled my fingers into his reddish brown hair and pulled him onto me further. He gagged slightly as my cock hit the back of his throat, and he growled around me. 

"Sorry," I breathed. 

He hummed around me, I think he said something like 'It's alright,' and closed his eyes. I dropped my head back onto the bed, using my arm to cover my eyes. His mouth was incredible and warm, licking and sucking. It was almost worshipful the way his tongue and teeth moved together, very slightly grazing them against the sensitive skin every now and then just to change things up. 

I reached behind myself and grabbed a pillow, using it to cover my mouth, muffling my grunts. It only lasted for a moment before Mycroft reached up and knocked it away. I snapped my head forward to look at him, and he frowned at me, continuing to suck me into his mouth. Saliva collected at the corner of his lips and the sounds his mouth made against my cock was frankly obscene. Needless to say, it was undoubtedly the sexiest I'd ever seen him. I almost wished it was acceptable for me to take a picture of it just to use for future reference. 

He pulled off me for a moment to speak. "I want to see your face when you cum, Greg," he said hoarsely. 

A part of me disagreed with that. That meant making an effort to keep quiet, even though his mouth was wrapped so beautifully around my cock, causing me to feel the most sinfully divine feeling that pounded through my body like electricity. We could get caught. We already had that day. I'd been punched in the face for it. And yet there we were, in my room. The gorgeous assistant headmaster who everyone lusted over was sucking me off, kneeling on the ground with my hands gripping his hair encouragingly. And - oh my god  was he moaning too? - he was enjoying doing it. I have to be going crazy. That's it. There's no way this gorgeous man could be here with me doing this beautiful, dirty act on me.  

That was what did it. The fact that it was real. It was happening. My gorgeous, untouchable assistant headmaster could be just as much of a slut as me. My stomach grew warmer and warmer and my vision got blurrier with every moment that Mycroft carried on, turning his head every so often and sucking harder or slower. I arched my back, moaning quietly as I came in Mycroft's mouth. 

I opened my eyes, still shaking with pleasure, to see Mycroft pulling off my cock with an obscene 'pop' sound, and he smirked up at me. "Alright?"

"Amazing," I said truthfully with a contented sigh. 

"Greg," Mycroft said suddenly. 

"Yeah?" I asked.

"School's finished, Anderson is probably on his way back here right now. You've rugby practice today and he left his P.E kit here."

"Alright."

"I'm shirtless and you're more naked than me."

"Oh, right, yeah," I said with a sheepish smile. "Should probably sort that out then." I got up with shaky legs, pulling my pants and trousers back on and shrugged into my shirt too.

 I wandered over to my drawers and pulled out the largest white shirt I owned. I looked it over for a moment before giving it to Mycroft, thinking it'd be big enough to fit over his muscular torso. He leaned in and kissed my neck before pulling away again, pulling the shirt on. It fit him well enough. "Thanks, love."

I watched as Mycroft ran a hand through his hair, smiling at him lovingly. His eyes were brighter than usual, I guessed with happiness, and he shot me a genuine smile. He looked like he was going to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. 

"Greg, you in there?! Can ya let me in, I left my key in my coat pocket!" It was Anderson.

I sighed and looked at Mycroft, who gently kissed my nose and patted my hair down into something more presentable. He was tender in a way I'd never experienced with him and I couldn't help but grin at him. "I better go," he whispered, keeping his hands either side of my face. "I love you though."

"I love you too," I whispered back. 

He schooled his face into its usual unreadable mask and he turned on his heel and walked to the door. He unlocked it and opened it, walking out and past Anderson as though he hadn't a care in the world. 

"What-"

"Mr. Anderson," Mycroft interrupted, projecting such a certain confidence that not even Anderson, the stupid git he was, couldn't question it. 

I watched as Mycroft walked away and then excused myself to the bathroom  before Anderson could even ask what'd happened that day. I had a quick shower and made sure I took Mycroft's old, bloody shirt out of the basin as I left the bathroom again, bound for a rugby practice I was decidedly too tired to partake in.