Sherlock got out of the shower, dried off, then wrapped a towel around his waist and went into his room. He was reaching into the cupboard for a pair of trousers when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. He deliberately did not turn around when his bedroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang.

"You have gone too far this time, Sherlock." Mycroft hissed at him.

Sherlock slowly turned around, his face a mask of distain.

"Don't you think you are being overly dramatic, Mycroft?" he asked.

"Overly dramatic," Mycroft said, his voice rising, "You show up at Buckingham Palace wearing nothing but a sheet, you let a woman fool you into revealing national secrets, then steal my government id to sneak into a classified facility and I'm being over dramatic."

Sherlock yelped in surprise as Mycroft crossed the room and grabbed his arm, pulling him close enough that their noses were touching.

"You have no idea how dramatic I can be little brother." Mycroft said in a low voice filled with danger. "I am of half a mind to turn you over my knee."

Sherlock stared at his sibling, defiance and rage twisting his features.

"You wouldn't dare." he taunted.

In a heartbeat, Mycroft had yanked Sherlock over to the bed, sat down, and pulled him across his lap. Sherlock tried twisting free, but his brother had an iron grip on him and he couldn't get away.

"Mycroft, let me up this instant." he demanded.

Mycroft ignored him and pulled the towel from around his waist. He clamped an arm across Sherlock's lower back and brought his other hand down on his ass with a forceful smack. Sherlock howled and squirmed, trying to get away.

"If you are going to act like a spoiled, misbehaving child, I am going to treat you like one." Mycroft told him, punctuating each word with a smack on the ass.

Sherlock was yelling at the top of his lungs and squirming like an eel but Mycroft kept ahold of him.

"You are an intolerable," Smack, "insufferable," Smack, "completely madding," Smack, Smack, Smack, " little brat."

After several minutes, Mycroft noticed a change in Sherlock. His cries had softened in volume and deepened in tone, sounding more like groans of pleasure than cries of pain. One eyebrow shot up as a thought went through his mind. To test his theory, Mycroft gently ran a hand over one bright pink cheek of Sherlock's ass. Sherlock moaned and wiggled his hips, grinding his hard cock against Mycroft's thigh.

"Oh!" Mycroft gasped, a small smile curving his lips. "Sherlock, you are a naughty boy."

"I could have told you that." a voice said from the doorway.

Mycroft looked up to see John leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a grin on his face.

"Please, don't let me interrupt." he said, waving a hand at them. "His ass turns the most lovely shade of red if you do it right."

Mycroft's eyebrow almost shot off his face; it rose so high in surprise.

"If you're sure." he said.

"I'm sure he deserves it." John replied.

Mycroft nodded and smacked Sherlock's ass again, grinning when Sherlock moaned and arched his back. Mycroft alternated between slapping Sherlock's ass several times, then stroking the hot flesh until it was a beautiful shade of deep red and Sherlock was a supple, moaning mess.

"You are right; it is a lovely shade of red." Mycroft told John.

"My favorite," John said, "now if you wouldn't mind helping me out, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Mycroft looked confused. John pointed at his crotch, where his hard on pressed uncomfortably against his jeans, then at Sherlock's ass. Realization dawned on Mycroft and he gave a small bow of his head.

"If I can be of service." he said.

"You'll find what you need in the drawer." John told him.

Mycroft opened bed side table's rawer and took out the tube of lubricate. He squeezed some on his fingers. Sherlock moaned as he rubbed the tip of one finger along his ass hole, the gasped as it was slowly pushed into him. Mycroft watched in fascination as his finger sank into his brother's ass. He felt the slight resistance, then the tight heat. He slid it in and out of Sherlock several times, and then added another. Sherlock hissed as he was stretched, then let out a low groan as Mycroft curled his fingers to hit his prostrate. He rolled his hips, grinding against Mycroft's thigh as his ass was stretched open. By the time Mycroft added a third digit, both of them were panting quite hard. John left his post against the doorframe and came over to them. He unzipped his jeans and freed his aching cock from its fabric prison. Mycroft eased his fingers out of Sherlock and placed a pillow under him, lifting his ass up. John gave thanks for his short stature as he slick up his cock. He stepped between Sherlock's legs, grabbed his hip with one hand while placing the head of his cock against his hole with the other. He snapped his hips forward, driving his cock deep into Sherlock as he brought his hand down on his ass with a crack. Sherlock's breath came in panting sobs as John held his hips in a tight grip while he pounded into him. Mycroft unzipped his trousers and lifted his cock out. He ran one hand down Sherlock's back and along the curve of his ass as he stroked himself. When he was right at the edge, he grabbed Sherlock's cock and began to stroking it, matching the rapid rhythm John had set. Sherlock let out a cry, his whole body shaking as he came, his cum spilling over Mycroft's fist. Watching him come gave Mycroft the final push he needed to send him over the edge.

He came with a quiet grunt, his cum hitting Sherlock's back. John pounded into Sherlock until his orgasm left him limp across Mycroft's lap, then, with a groan, he pulled out to cum on Sherlock's ass. He sank onto the bed beside Mycroft with a soft sigh. Sherlock slid off of Mycroft's lap into a heap on the floor with his head on John's thigh. Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's discarded towel. He cleaned himself off, and then handed it to John. John cleaned up and tucked his cock back into his jeans.

"You do realize this completely ruined the whole purpose of disciplining him." Mycroft told John.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway." John replied as he ran his fingers threw Sherlock's sweaty curls,

"There's no hope of ever rehabilitating him."

Mycroft looked down at Sherlock and smiled.

"Well, I had to try." he said.

"I'm sure it won't be long before he does something that you'll need to try again." John said.

Both men grinned. Sherlock snorted and stood up. He stretched then headed for the door.

"You both do realize you wouldn't have me any other way." he said, swinging his hips so his red bottom wiggled as he left the room.

Mycroft shook his head as John burst out laughing.