The feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of Molly's neck stand up. She raised her head. John blinked at her a couple of times from Baker Street's parlor writing desk, glanced down to his laptop and then peered back over its screen. He peeked sideways at Sherlock. Sherlock fluffed his paper and raised his brows. When John's eyes flicked to Molly again, Sherlock sighed and shrugged.

"Oh," he said pointedly.

John cleared his throat. "Oh, what? Y-You . . . you definitely do not know what I was thinking."

Sherlock's lip twitched and he flipped a page of newsprint.

"Yes, I do. You found Molly's ad on Tinder."

John's eyes fluttered rapidly. He let out a long breath. Then he shook his head and his face went pink. Molly covered her mouth as she felt a shocked guffaw bubble in her throat. For several moments John appeared flummoxed, then he rose quickly.

"Ah, well, um . . .if you don't have any more clients today-"

"Sit down, John."

Molly's eyes slid to Sherlock at the heady tone of his voice. He stared back at her with a dark heat in his eyes. His brows jumped up almost imperceptibly as John murmured something. She inhaled a quivering breath.

"John?" she mouthed incredulously. "Seriously, am I allowed?"

Sherlock dipped his head slowly. Molly's belly contracted. She rubbed her lips together and studied their friend. He had buzzed his hair a bit short recently in addition to losing some weight. He was quite attractive, actually. When he peered at her with a question on his lips, she stood up quickly and padded over to the confused doctor before she lost her nerve. They stood nearly chest to chest by the time she stopped, she tilted her head back in a kind of tentative flirtation and fiddled with her own fingers.

"Umm, maybe d-don't sit yet, John," she said softly.

His chin dropped momentarily and there was a flicker of intense regard. He then shook his head as he switched his attentions back and forth between the pair. He waved his hands.

"Molly . . . oh, good god . . ."

She felt her courage wane so she pushed the spaghetti straps of her night shirt off her shoulders. It slipped over her pert nipples and down to her waist. Another frission of energy danced through her abdomen as John's breath hitched and he blinked slowly at the sight of her bare breasts. His head jerked and he glanced warily to his friend.

"Holy hell, Sherlock," he whispered, "wh-what-?"

Sherlock sat back in his chair and adjusted his groin. "Ah, well, you know I like to . . . observe, John."

Molly panted nervously. She had had many discussions with Sherlock about messing around with another man for his viewing pleasure but thus far it had been just talk (though very deliciously kinky talk). She felt the skin tighten up her back and over her scalp as an anxious tremble coursed through her body. What if John rejected the idea? His eyes were wide with apprehension. It would be awful for there to exist an awkwardness among them all. Still, her breaths deepened, her chest heaved. There was something inherently wicked about soliciting Sherlock's best friend; the rush of putting herself out there addictive.

"Molly?"

She inhaled and stepped against him until her breasts brushed his shirt. His hands went to his head and bunched his short hair between his fingers but his feet were rooted in place. She leaned closer and stood on her toes. John's head dropped forward with lips slack like his body had a will of its own. She became more than a little fevered when he glanced at her mouth. Instead of kissing him, though, Molly pushed her shirt and pajama bottoms down until she could step out of them completely naked. She slunk farther until she was nose to nose with John's groin and sat back on her heels. John's nostrils flared as he huffed a breath. His head wagged faintly in disbelief.

"You're serious?" he murmured.

She nodded quickly.

"Oh, fuck," he gulped and sought Sherlock's approval, "oh, fuck, are you certain?"

By this time, Sherlock's hand was in his trousers and his eyes slanted. He gestured for them to continue. Molly's palms tentatively slid up the front of John's pants. John mumbled to himself and whispered a prayer when she loosened them and slipped her hands around his arse before tugging the fabric down. His hips jerked as his lengthening cock emerged and she cradled his sack. She wondered just what he had been hunting for on Tinder. His balls were shaved smooth and the hair around his swollen shaft neatly trimmed. He must have been feeling . . . randy.

"Ha-ah!" he rasped when her tongue touched to the underside of his cock. "Oh, fuck me!"

Emboldened by his burgeoning desire, she licked from his base to his tip. His shaft seemed to harden as her tongue traveled its length. To their side, Sherlock let out a half-sigh, half-growl.

"Mmm, taste that again."

Molly obliged and licked John's steely length once more. He was a good size and quite thick. Her cunt began to ache as she imagined how he would feel between her thighs.

"Fuck, Molly," John's fingers curled into her hair as she teased him. "Hah!"

She kept at it until he was good and hard, then with a purr of satisfaction, closed her lips over his head. He jerked forward and moaned. She sucked him deep to the back of her throat and swallowed her excess saliva. Her lips strained around his circumference. He was almost too wide. However, the feel of him hot and hard cycling in her mouth and Sherlock's lurid gaze on their display spurred her arousal. She felt a flush between her juncture again when she peeked out of the side of her eyes and saw a jerking motion. As well, every time she went down on John, her sex pulsed with blood. She loved the feel of his undulating flesh dragging past her lips.

"Mm, huh, huh . . . fuck," his fingers massaged her scalp, "i-is this all you want? Because, bloody hell, if you would like me to do anything for you, you had better relent."

Molly backed off and peered bashfully Sherlock. His beautiful, engorged manhood jutted from his open pants and bobbed in his hand. He stroked it as she beseeched him silently for permission to proceed. He blinked languidly.

"You want him to fuck you," he murmured in a deeply seductive, rough timber, "so let him fuck you, Molly."

She gulped, nodded and then peered up at John's flushed face. Her words failed her and so she just dipped her head at him as well. When John reached down a hand, she took it and let him draw her from the floor. His raging hard-on poked into her stomach. Her nipples grazed his chest.

"What will it be?" he mumbled, his voice laden with lust.

Molly inhaled a shaky little breath and urged him over to the small open space in front of Sherlock's chair. She laid back on her elbows, perpendicular to Sherlock with her legs spread so John could see her glistening cleft. Her hair tickled down her back. John watched her every movement with keen interest.

"I-I see," he stretched his neck, "yeah, yup."

He hastily flicked open the buttons on his cuffs and a couple down the front of his shirt and hefted it off. He hesitated at discarding his pants completely but Molly wagged her knees suggestively. He let out a long stream of air, shook his head and dropped his pants to the floor. He hopped around as he whipped off his socks. Molly stifled a giggle. It was kind of endearing.

John's cuteness evaporated when he dropped between her knees. His chin drifted down and he gazed at her from under his brows. Her insides quivered at the hot, suddenly greedy gleam in his eyes and the way they raked down her body. He licked his lips. She widened her legs. With a soft laugh, he shook his head.

"Nuh, uh," he murmured, "I won't last two minutes right now."

John turned his intent gaze to Sherlock. "Mind if I improvise?"

Sherlock smiled lazily. "Not at all."

John backed up then grabbed Molly's hips and jerked her towards him. In an instant, his head was between her legs and his mouth sucked onto her clit. Her hips thrashed and bucked at the sudden electric jolt that his suction let loose through her body. He did it again and her legs nearly collapsed. When she whimpered, he began to lick and stroke her sensitive flesh with his tongue. She heard Sherlock murmur in satisfaction and spur his friend on. Molly's head fell back with a cry as the tension behind John's ministrations became nearly unbearable. It was all she could do to hold herself in check so she didn't grind her hips into his face.

"Mmm, unh, fuck," she hissed, "oh, my, god!"

She writhed on the rug as John's tongue continued its assault. Her whole body was shaking. Her cunt throbbed. She felt the stirrings of a release and was nearly spinning out of control when Sherlock's rough voice cut through her psyche.

"Don't let her cum yet," he commanded, "I want her begging for it."

John lifted his head and wiped his mouth. Molly thumped her heels against the floor in frustration.

"Aaarg!"

John laughed and crawled over her. His forehead shone with a sheen of sweat. His eyes constricted again as he surveyed her form. His hand slid up her belly and between her breasts.

"Mm, Molly, god, I know you are going to feel as good as you taste."

She clawed at his shoulders to pull him down to her. "Stop talking and fuck me."

John sucked in a breath when her hand then wrapped around his cock. He kissed her hard and grunted against her mouth as she stroked him. She could taste her own salty mustiness on his lips and the naughtiness of that flavor made her sex spasm. His tongue thrust into her mouth at the same time the blunt end of his shaft seated up against her entry. He leaned into her, his tongue delved deeper and with a breath-stealing thrust, his cock rutted crudely past her outer folds and plummeted into her core. She arched against him as he rammed into the dead-end of her chamber. She felt a balloon of pain for a moment before she adjusted to his length.

"Holy hell," she thought wildly, "John Watson is inside me and Sherlock is watching!"

She clenched on him and looked over to Sherlock even as her eyes wanted to roll back in her head. The pressure was intense. He not only stretched her wide, he felt like he expanded where his body met hers. Balls pressed into her crack. He was well and truly buried inside her womb. With an undulation of his hips, he partially withdrew and plunged back in slowly with a deep, guttural groan. This time she felt every, mouth-watering inch of him including the blip of a vein as he dragged through her folds. Sherlock's expanded pupils made her flesh goose-pimple everywhere.

"Is she wet?" Sherlock asked, his voice sounded strained.

John exhaled noisily.

"You are so wet," he rasped in her ear, "fuck, you are so tight and wet."

Molly cried out as he began to pump his hips. His stroking started out slow and deliberate but quickly progressed to a fervid pace which imprinted the rough texture of the area rug into her back. She hooked her legs around his waist and folded her arms behind his neck. The friction of his rigid flesh caused her clit to burn, to catch fire even. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her body sucking on him as he drove into her over and over. Somewhere in the background, she heard a second, fainter slapping and knew Sherlock was getting off to their copulation.

"Fuck, Molly," John groaned, "fu-u-uck. A-Are you close?"

"Muh-huh," she panted, "mmm, so close."

He propped himself up on his arms then and rocked into her like a man possessed. Molly looked over to Sherlock. His lids fluttered, his hand worked his cock. She knew he was close as well and that was all she needed to begin her descent.

"Unh, John, like that," she sputtered, holding Sherlock's gaze, "just like th-that."

John wheezed. "Yeah? I didn't hear you beg, though."

He slowed and she jerked beneath him.

"Beg him," Sherlock mouthed.

"Mmph, please! Fuck me, please, harder."

He stroked into her even slower.

"What was that?" he ground out.

"Please, John, unh, please, I need you to make me cum."

John doubled over her and began furiously coupling with her, his grunts sounded almost animalistic. He rubbed a finger over her clit and she was done. The expanding spark at her juncture mushroom-clouded into an all-encompassing orgasm which sent a shockwave through her body. A shuddering cry tore from her lips as its vibration reflected and bounced around her insides. John moaned, stroked a couple of times and then pulled out. His cock bobbed on her stomach and jetted warm cum in spurts over her belly. As he huffed and wheezed through his release, Sherlock fell to his knees beside them with his shirt open and his trousers around his thighs. Molly felt a second splatter of fluids onto her chest and breasts. When she looked up at Sherlock, his head was back, lips open and he milked his own cock. The visage caused another release to erupt behind the first and her sex quivered with more pleasure.

John sat back panting. Sherlock's eyes flicked over Molly's form and he smiled faintly. Flames licked up her chest and neck into her face. He shook his head.

"Beautiful," his lips said soundlessly.

John thrust his shirt in her hands.

"Here . . . for that . . ."

Molly blushed. "B-But it'll be soiled . . ."

He shook his head. "I think I still have some shirts here."

"You do, actually," Sherlock said between breaths as Molly dabbed at her belly and chest, "but we should all shower first, hmm?"

His words stole Molly's breath. He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

"Shall we, my dear?" he glanced to his friend. "John?"

John nodded. "Oh, god, yes."