MollyxIrene I hear you cry? Shameless porn?
Well yes. Obviously. Why not?
Set a few days before Irene faked her death in A Scandal In Belgravia.
As far as Sherlock Holmes was concerned, Molly Hooper did little else than spend her days hopelessly pining over him and his gloriously beautiful self.
This was partly true.
At least, until she met Miss Irene Adler.
***
An average day for Molly; too many dead bodies to count, crying families and paperwork. Needless to say it didn't do wonders for the libido.
The end of the day could not come too soon. Molly thought as she had a sit down in the hospital café after everyone else had left. She was tired, hungry and she desperately missed her cat. The obvious importance of these dwellings obliterated any chance she had of spotting a slender figure slide through the door of the café, swiftly shutting and locking it behind her.
Molly was dully aware of the sound of the chair in front of her moving backwards to inhabit another human as she dozily drummed her fingers against the table, staring into blissful nothing, embraced by her thoughts.
"Hello, Molly Hooper"
Oh! She quickly snapped back into the present day, to see before her a rather classy looking woman, a very beautiful woman. With a 50's hairstyle and expressively mischievous eyes. Slender and silky, down to her blood red dress, which flatteringly cupped what curves Molly could see above the table top.
"Oh, um, h-hello?" Molly's eyes unforgivingly flickered across the woman's upper half.
"Irene" a smile tugged at one corner of her dark red lips, eyes tightening for a second.
"S-sorry?" the stutter fell out as a whisper.
"My name, petal. I'm here because I've found myself requiring to know, what you like" By now there was a full-on simply devilish smile on the woman's angular face.
"Um..sorry…?" Molly echoed herself, immediately mentally slapping herself as she felt a hot blush creep across her cheeks.
The woman began to stand, slowly maneuvering her torso across the table, so that Molly could feel her hot breath on her own mouth.
"Shhh…petal, save the blushing for when you've got a real reason to do so"
And with that, The Woman…Irene, traced a line down Molly's face with a striking red nail, cupped her jaw, and leaned in to kiss her.
***
It didn't take much to convince Molly. As one would assume. The moment that Irene's delectable, soft lips hit her own, she was quite sure that she couldn't pull away even if she wanted to.
So she was sat there with the goddamned sexy woman pressed to her, what to do now?
Oh yes! Kissing back! Good idea.
So Molly Hooper let her eyes flicker shut, and tilted her head to a more purposeful angle, deepening the kiss.
Irene pulled back; "I don't play safe, Molly Hooper. I like to misbehave, and I was hoping that you would…indulge me"
Molly could do little else but release a small whimper from the back of her throat.
"That is what I suspected" And she leaned in once again.
But this time was different, they met with hot, open mouths, performing slow synchronized moves with their mouths, and it was just downright filthy and hot.
Irene was not bluffing, without a word, she jerked away, and leaped onto the table with the utmost arousing aggression, over it, and directly into Molly's lap, straddling her on the chair, landing hard and purposefully rough.
Molly proceeded to open her mouth further, slipping her hot, wet muscle into Irene's mouth, as if on an expedition to the sweatiest, mustiest caverns of pure, utter, pleasure.
Far away on her mental expedition, Molly was oblivious to Irene delicately capturing her wrists in tight shackles before securing the receiving end of them to the bars in the back of the chair the mousey young woman was sat on.
'Oh my god yes' Molly thought as The Woman who was currently conveniently and quite knowingly gyrating her hips on her lap, the movement made her desperate for a touch, for friction, for some relief from the tension, the plain desire caused her to instinctively open her legs wider, to accommodate Irene moving on to straddle her right thigh.
It was only when the mousey woman attempted to raise her hands to touch the silkily slender woman's face, that she processed to telltale clinking of chains, causing Molly's eyes to widen with further aching arousal, with the slightest hint of surprise.
Of course being subdued and restricted really should not turn her on, but god it did. Even more than watching Sherlock have his go with that riding crop, even if it were on a dead body…
No. No dead bodies now. Sex, nice, Woman, mmmm…
Irene's demanding lips parted from Molly's with a sharp bite at her lower lip, which produced a rumbling, husky sound from the back of her throat resembling a growl. The Woman began to work her way down Molly's face, tilting it upwards towards to ceiling, arching her neck to grant easier access. Irene's slightly kiss-swollen lips, any traces of her lipstick now only a strangely artistic smudge around the corners of the experienced mouth, which was majestically reflected on the mousy young woman's mouth also, transferred through passionate snogging.
The Woman then worked her way down the right side of Molly's neck as she rolled her head to the side. Irene began to suck and bite, purposefully sucking bruises into parts of her that her lab coat wouldn't even begin to cover up.
A pitiful sound rumbled out of Molly's mouth from deep within her chest, as Irene proceeded to nip at a sensitive soft area below her ear, accentuating the vibrations running through her body with the burning arousal, winding the hot, meaningful coil of pent up pleasure in her abdomen even tighter, longing and almost painful.
It was too much, she was fully clothed and she could feel the wetness of her hot arousal begin to seep through her underwear. This was not decent, not decent at all! Goodness Molly Hooper, get a GRIP!
Oh but ohhhh…all thoughts of decency were subtly expelled from her mind when the infuriating Woman above her pressed her leg against Molly's crotch, with a pleased chuckle at the feeling of her bare thigh against the wetness.
"So eager to be pleased, Miss Hooper" Irene produced her name as if it were sex wrapped in silk.
It was a relief to feel Irene begin to undo her button-up shirt, sliding a nail down her torso, between her cleavage, then down to her bellybutton to follow the opening of the shirt, then agonizingly stopping right above the hem of her chino's, leading to a frustrated whimper falling out of her mouth.
Obviously getting impatient, Irene grappled elegantly with her buttons, purposefully emphasizing the harshness of every movement, barbarically yanking her trousers to her knees, working them off around her ankles, before doing the same to her underwear.
She was instantly affronted by the level of exposure that had been inflicted upon her, and for some bizarre reason, the very thought of being walked in upon made her very got indeed.
The Woman then silkily slinked down to the ground, her head between Molly's open legs. Smiling up her wickedly as she roughly attached her ankles to the chair legs.
Where she was producing all of this equipment from was thoroughly a mystery to Molly, but she wasn't about to begin asking questions.
Vulnerable and open, and naked, having not bothered to wear a bra today felt like the best decision she'd made in a very long time.
"Wait right here, poppet" Whispered Irene hotly, pointedly emphasizing the fact that she had no other choice, being cuffed up and all.
When Irene came back from around the other side of the table, she was wielding a shiny, black riding crop.
Oh fucking hell. Thought Molly Hooper. This is heaven. I've died and this is heaven.
"Now, Miss Hooper, I'll inform you right now that I am not doing this purely for pleasure, though that comes as a welcome bonus. I do require payment of some kind," Said she. Languidly stroking the riding crop. "Oh, and your safeword is 'Sherlock'.
Molly's eyes flew open, Sherlock?
Irene then began to sexily walk over to her, swaying her hips purposefully.
Holding out the riding crop, lightly stroking her stomach with the leather end, producing a sated sigh from the Pathologist.
"Oh yes, Miss Hooper. I've been reliably informed that you know Sherlock Holmes, rather well"
"Um…Well, yes, b-but not that well I don't think…" Stammered Molly, internally punching herself for babbling manically.
"Good" Drawled Irene, with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
And then she drew back the riding crop, and then struck.
"Fuck!" Cried Molly, involuntarily arching her back at the sudden stinging on her abdomen.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. Really, but that fact turned Molly on to no end.
"Now, I have a favor to ask of you" Said Irene, beginning to stroll closer. "That okay?" Irene made no attempt to hide the mocking tone of her voice, as the then pointedly placed a finger on her slick, glossy clit, simply applying pressure, but the contact she so desired being granted caused a jolt of pleasure to pulse through her entire body, causing the welt that the riding crop had created tingle pleasantly.
"Ohhhhh yes," Molly moaned with burning heat, a layer of sweat having formed already over her skin, creating a wonderful sheen.
"Magnificent. And I understand you have copious amounts of access to plenty of fresh cadavers, isn't that right?" A rhetorical question.
"So, say, if someone needed to disappear, wanted to appear dead," Muttered Irene, beginning to slide a finger towards her hole, then slipping a beautifully painful long-nailed finger inside of her, then another one, just resting inside of her heavily. "Would you be able to provide a body, that looks enough like me in the right places, good enough to fool our dear Mr Holmes?"
Now Irene was pumping in and out of her with one hand, while slowly massaging her pulsing clit with the other hand, eliciting a number of merciless moans and cries to emanate from Molly's mouth.
The words barely registered with Molly, coming so close to her sweet, sweet climax, the coil in her belly tightening, tightening, about to snap, so she barely thought about it before she wantonly sighed 'Yessss…' in both agreement to The Woman's favor, and pure satisfaction.
Her legs were trembling and her chest heaving, her head back and mouth open, tongue unconsciously wetting her lips while her eyes were squeezed shut, her orgasm right there…
When Irene abruptly stops, removing all bodily contact from the Pathologist. Molly cried out at the sudden loss, desperately trying to squeeze her legs together to gain some, any contact.
The Woman steps back, producing a silk handkerchief with the initials 'IA' in red in the corner, wiping her fingers on it before slipping it back into a pocket in the dress.
"I'm glad we have an understanding," She said far less tenderly, adopting a tone of business-like seriousness. "I expect it done by tomorrow. Make sure you're there when Mr Holmes comes looking"
And with that, she collected her bag, slipped her riding crop into her bag, only coming closer to undo the restraints and to hand her a piece of paper with what looked like measurements on it. But even though freed, she was still very much too bewildered to move.
Her heels still clicked and her hips still swayed as the walked towards the exit.
She turns back to face Molly when she meets the door.
"Oh, and as some extra incentive…do a good enough job, and I may feel inclined to carry on where we left off." And with a wink. She was gone.
The look on Sherlock Holmes' face when he saw the dead 'Irene' was very much worth every bit of effort.