Mycroft's shoulder's slumped as he caught sight of himself in the mirror Gregory kept hanging on his bedroom wall.

He had a lecture in a little over an hour and he should have been, by all rights, dressed and out the door by that point, and yet there he was, standing in front of the mirror staring resignedly at his rolls of fat, freckled, pasty flesh, which made his trousers tight and his shirts bulge.

"Morning, Beautiful," Greg yawned, coming up behind his boyfriend and wrapping his arms snugly around his naked waist.

"Don't call me that, Gregory," Mycroft sighed, turning his attention back to the small collection of shirts he had hung up in the corner of his boyfriend's wardrobe.

"Why?" Greg asked, frowning as he perched his chin upon Mycroft's shoulder. "I like the grey one, by the way."

"Very well," Mycroft scoffed, taking the grey shirt from the wardrobe and draping it over the back of the chair whilst he flicked through his selection of ties.

"Why can't I call you beautiful?" Greg asked again.

"Because I'd rather not make a liar out of you," Mycroft chuckled, picking out three ties and eyeing each contemplatively.

Greg frowned, turning his boyfriend around in his arms so he was facing him.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You are beautiful."

"No I'm not," Mycroft murmured, ducking his head. "I'm fat and pale, I have red hair and freckles everywhere."

"I know," Greg chuckled, arching his brows lewdly.

Mycroft scoffed, shaking his head as the tips of his ears reddened.

"Don't be vulgar," he muttered as he set about unbuttoning his shirt.

"I'm not being vulgar," Greg replied, shrugging. "Well, not very vulgar at least. But you are beautiful, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on."

"Please," Mycroft chuckled.

"Honest," Greg replied, as he turned his boyfriend around to face the mirror once again. "See?"

"All too well," Mycroft muttered, averting his eyes.

Greg rolled his eyes.

"I think you're beautiful," he whispered once again, wrapping his arms around the younger man. "I love how soft you are, it makes you comfy. You make me feel better when I hug you and safe when you hold me."

"So essentially I'm your teddy bear," Mycroft chuckled, cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"Essentially, yeah," Greg laughed, squeezing him a little tighter. "I love your freckles, you know that. I think they're cute, especially the ones on your nose. They make you look your age. I think that's why you hate them so much... which is probably part of the reason why I think they're cute."

Mycroft scoffed.

"And I love your hair, always have. I love the colour, I love how soft it is, I love these little curls, right here," he murmured, gently flicking the bangs hanging over his boyfriend's forehead. "I love that no matter how much gel you put in there, it always breaks free by the end of the day... even sooner when you're bored or frustrated, because you run your fingers through it."

Mycroft quietly chuckled.

"I think you are beautiful," Gregory announced one last time, pressing a firm kiss to the back of his boyfriend's neck. "Beautiful, handsome and incredibly sexy."

Mycroft smiled softly.

"Well I'm glad you think so," he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder. "You're very sweet."

"I know," Greg chirped, grinning widely. "Now you're going to be late for class if you keep this up, come on, get dressed young man."

--

A fill for an annonymus prompt who asked for 'chubby!croft (at any age) and Greg givin' him some lovin''