A/N: Could be viewed as slightly dub-con since both parties are drunk off their asses when they Bond. But I try to stress that it can't happen unless there's some level of consent, even if it's subconscious.

His head was pounding, and everything smelled so intense; apparently even his suppressants couldn't overpower a hangover. Great, just effing great, Sherlock groused to himself as he rubbed his eyes. He opened them and looked blearily around the room; good, at least it was his own room and not…not…

Dear. Gods. He wasn't alone. No wonder the smell of sex and Omega was so strong! He'd assumed it was coming from his flatmate's bedroom across the hall. Victor was always sweet-talking some Omega into sharing a Heat with him; the man acted as if Knotting was as vital to him as breathing!

The woman lying next to him moaned, and Sherlock's eyes widened almost comically as she turned onto her back, still deeply asleep, hair (light brown shading to almost auburn, long and straight where it wasn't currently tangled) covering the upper part of her face.

Not, however, covering her neck…which featured a very distinct bite mark exactly centered over her pulse point. He gingerly slipped a finger inside his mouth, then pulled it out slowly, carefully, praying to any God that would listen to an unbeliever like him that he wouldn't find what he thought he'd find.

He stared at the finger for an unknown length of time, his mind utterly blank.

Blood. His sleeping (Omega) bed-mate was apparently also his newly acquired Bondmate.

"Fucking. Hell!"

oOo

Molly jolted awake at the half-growl, half-shout, immediately lying back when her head protested the idea of becoming vertical. Since her stomach also seemed to strongly dislike the idea, lying down and closing her eyes seemed the best alternative.

Her eyes snapped open again as she realized that a) it was a deep baritone that had awoken her and b) she wasn't in her dorm room. Not unless Meena had redecorated…and undergone an overnight sex change.

The intense blue-green eyes that were glaring down at her were only vaguely familiar at first...and then she recognized him as the rest of his features came into focus. William Holmes from Chemistry. The gorgeous Alpha with the cheekbones and the dark curls and the ferocious scowl...which was front and center at the moment and squarely aimed at her. She felt the overwhelming rush of his...not quite anger, but certainly upset as clearly as she scented it on him and read it on his features.

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she was, indeed, sensing his emotions. Which could only happen if... "Fucking. HELL!" she shouted in an unintentional echo of the Alpha's earlier exclamation. She slapped a hand to her throat and winced at the sharp pain that flared from beneath her palm as she did so. Pain she hadn't noticed before in the bleariness of a truly epic hangover.

She scrambled to a sitting position and backed away from where William – Sherlock, she vaguely recalled his friend Victor calling him, some sort of nickname or family name – was kneeling over her. Eyes wide, she met his glare. "Um, hi?" she ventured after a moment. "So what...I guess we...fucking hell," she finished weakly, slumping back against the headboard and closing her eyes. Oh Gods above and below, her mother was going to KILL her. Bonding with her first shag...how the hell had that happened? No one could possibly get that drunk...except, obviously, she and William/Sherlock had done just that.

And since Bonding wasn't something that could be forced on another person no matter how out of control they might be because of drugs, alcohol or Omega Heat…that meant that, at some level, no matter how epically pissed the two of them had been…they'd both wanted it to happen.

And Molly had no idea if her new Alpha mate even knew her name.

oOo

Mycroft would have a field day with this, no two ways about it. Vic would consider it hilarious and his parents...Sherlock groaned and collapsed back on the pillow next to his new mate. His parents would expect grandchildren, loads of them... "Birth control?" he snapped out, turning his head to face her.

Molly Hooper. His Omega Bondmate. Thank God it was someone he actually knew and not just some random shag with whom he happened to be biologically compatible. An Omega he not only knew, but actually had some respect for. The quiet girl from that tedious chemistry class he could have taught in his sleep better than their professor.

"S-sorry?" she stuttered, twisting the ends of her hair nervously. It grated on his nerves that he could actually feel her nervousness…and simultaneously made him itch to jump up and fetch her something to eat or drink. Or possibly take her in his arms, dip his head down and press his lips to hers…

He pulled back just as he was about to do the latter. Damn his Alpha instincts! "Birth control," he repeated instead, as if that had been his intent all along.

Of course she'd be able to smell even the subtlest change in his scent now; he'd have to be very careful to watch how he worded things to her so as to never actively lie to her, or else face the consequences of her immediately knowing he'd done so. And of course there was the emotional link, that would fade a bit over time, right? Shit, he shouldn't even care about things like that; why hadn't he realized that Bonding would be so fucking intense? Because he'd dismissed it as byproduct of sentiment, he reminded himself. Prided himself on being different and therefore immune to that aspect of biology. Above the fray.

So much for that. "Birth control," he repeated for the third time, somewhat desperately. "As in, what kind are you on," he clarified after a quick glance around revealed no used condoms.

"Oh, um, the Omega Paraguard with Heat suppressants," Molly finally replied, shaking her head and coming out of her temporary daze. He could practically feel her mind sharpening even as her emotions remained confused. "So we probably don't need to worry about an unplanned pregnancy. This time."

She blushed and he found himself brushing her hair back from her cheek so he could better take in her scent. There were subtle changes beneath the overwhelming smell of sex, changes that informed his olfactory senses of what his mind and nervous system were already well aware of: their scents were merging. From this day on, there would be no hiding from anyone that they'd Bonded, even if Molly wore high collars or scarves to camouflage the Mark his teeth had left on her throat.

"Good," he said in relief. "That should keep things on an even keel before your next Heat. And yes, I heard you say 'suppressants'," he added with a quick roll of his eyes. "But I know enough about Omega biology to understand how ineffective such things become between Bonded pairs. Like us."

Molly buried her head in her hands and groaned. "My mother's gonna KILL me. I promised I'd finish my education before I even LOOKED for a mate, and now…" She groaned again.

"Well it isn't exactly what I had planned for my future either, Molly," Sherlock snapped, a bit stung at the real unhappiness he was feeling through their Bond at the moment.

That emotion changed to startlement and then a sort of pleased surprise. "You know my name?"

He looked insulted. "Of course I do. I know a great deal about you." Before she could ask him about that little tid-bit, he rushed on: "After all, we share a chemistry class and you've proven yourself not to be as much an idiot as the other students are. I'd even go so far as to say you're academically gifted."

Molly wasn't sure whether she should be pleased by the 'academically gifted' part or upset about the 'not as much of an idiot' part, and settled for just sighing and dropping her head back into her hands. "So now what do we do?" she mumbled as the enormity of their unplanned actions started to hit her. Bonded. The Bond would make it impossible for them to just part ways and try to forget this had ever happened, the way other drunken encounters usually ended; there would be no walk of shame for her, no trying to ignore each other or live separate lives.

They were well and truly stuck with one another, and she had no idea how it had happened. Had he been as drunk as she? Definitely, she thought, giving him a quick look. He was pale and queasy looking, and although those symptoms could be the result of the discovery that they'd Bonded, she also noted the bloodshot eyes and other tells she was certain she was sporting as well.

Helluva way to wake up. Her life was now permanently and undeniably linked to that of a man she barely knew. Admired for his mind, was frankly impressed by his body, but whose mouth all-too-often spewed out some rather hurtful things.

…compensating for the size of her lips and breasts…

A fragment of conversation floated to the front of her consciousness, and she frowned. It was Sherlock's voice, but when and where he'd said those words, and who he was talking about…

…Miss Hooper has love on her mind…

"You. BASTARD!" she shouted, her head snapping up as she stared at him. Sherlock stared right back at her, looking utterly confused. He seemed even more confused – not to mention alarmed – when she suddenly swung the pillow around and smacked it against his face. He toppled to the floor and landed on his ass with a loud "oomph!" as she rose to her knees and glared down at him.

"You said my breasts were too small! And my lips! You…you were making fun of me at that party last night!"

"I wasn't!" he tried to protest, a line appearing between his brows as he stopped to think about it. "Oh. Right. I guess it sounded like I was. But I wasn't doing it to be…I didn't mean it in a, in a bad way!"

"What other way is there to mean it?" Molly demanded in outrage. She might be an Omega but she was no timid little mouse like so many others of her kind.

Sherlock's eyes went distant, and Molly paused in the act of throwing another pillow at him. She'd seen him do this before, disappear into his own mind as he searched out some hard-to-find bit of information…or a memory. It was interesting to see him doing it while at the same time literally feeling the dimming of his emotions as he became entirely self-focused. Interesting enough to help her get control of her own anger and distress.

When he finally snapped out of it, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, and scratching absently at the wound on her throat. Thank the Gods that Bonding ensured no infection would set in as her body's metabolism sped up to heal her. She watched his eyes come back into focus and immediately meet hers. "I might have made the mistake of commenting on the fact that you were dressed differently than normal. That you usually wore loose, comfortable clothes that covered you completely, often in unnecessary layers. You were obviously on the pull, which I deduced without Victor needing to point out to me, although he went out of his way to do so."

She blinked; that wasn't at all what she'd expected to hear. "And my lips?" She wanted the full explanation before she decided how to react.

"You were wearing bright red lipstick that matched the color of the flower you were carrying. A flower I further deduced some other man had given to you." He scowled, although whether it was at the memory or in annoyance at himself for remembering it in the first place, Molly couldn't tell.

Nor could she remember nearly as much as he was; only bits and pieces were flashing through her mind, but the bits and pieces did seem to agree with what he was telling her. "Then why did you have to announce to the whole bloody room that I was compensating?" she demanded, deciding that her initial reaction – fury at the remembered humiliation – had been the correct one.

"Oh, Gods and Spirits, you mean you don't remember what happened after that?" Both of them turned to face the newcomer at the door; neither had heard or scented his presence. Not that anything but an utterly overwhelming odor could have cut through the lingering fug of sex and their now-mingling personal aromas, but it would have been nice not to be surprised in the middle of such an intimate moment.

"I remember," Sherlock said promptly, brow lowering in another scowl, but Victor cut him off before he could say anything more.

Speaking directly to Molly, the other Alpha said simply, "He was so fucking jealous he could barely see straight. I told him he'd waited too long and it was all his own fault. Idiot." He shook his head, dark blond fringe falling over his eyes which he brushed back impatiently. "So of course he got all defensive and had to prove I was wrong about him. Even though I could smell how much he wanted you from the second you walked into the party."

Sherlock's face had gone an interesting shade of red, his scent was shot through with splashes of almost chemical notes that Molly recognized as panic – and his emotions were all over the place. Panic and embarrassment, yes; some anger clearly directed at Victor, also yes…and something else Molly tentatively identified as…hope?

"You wanted me?"

He hesitated a moment before finally nodding, looking anywhere but at her. She slid off the side of the bed and landed on her knees next to him. He'd straightened up after his tumble but was still sitting with his legs splayed out in front of him; Molly put one hand lightly on his knee and he gave an audible gulp, but finally met her gaze. "We started arguing," she said softly as another bit of memory surfaced. "I drank an entire cup of wine and you were drinking, too. The same wine, I think." She wrinkled her nose a bit as a sense-memory of the awful drink teased her mind. "Something really dreadful."

"A red marketed for Betas. But it was cheap," Victor added helpfully.

Sherlock turned the full force of his glare on his flatmate. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop on a private conversation between me and my Bondmate?" he snapped.

Victor grinned. "Nope," he said, popping the P obnoxiously. He then did a visible double-take, staring from Sherlock to Molly and back again, nostrils flaring exaggeratedly and eyes homing on the bite mark still visible on Molly's neck. "Wait, you two fucking Bonded?" His grin widened. "Oh, Sherlock, Mr. Bonding-is-for-the-unwashed-masses, I'm-far-too-intelligent- to-get-myself-permanently-tied-to-some-brainless-Omega - what have you done?! This is…this is priceless!"

He continued to chortle like an idiot while Sherlock glowered and Molly blushed.

"If you're finished acting like a complete ass…" Sherlock began, but Victor interrupted him.

"Never be done doing that, Sherl," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "But just to prove I have your best interests at heart…" He tossed the bottle of water he was holding in Sherlock's direction. "Peace offering. I knew you two probably wouldn't be at your best this morning."

Catching it automatically, Sherlock unscrewed the top and practically shoved it at Molly. "Drink this, you'll be dehydrated from…uh, the wine," he said, stumbling a bit over his words. Victor snickered as if he knew exactly what Sherlock had been about to say.

Sherlock glared at him, but when it was clear there wasn't going to be any submissive neck-tilting or backing out of the room, he turned his attention back to Molly. "Just ignore him," he mumbled, quickly taking a drink when she offered the liter bottle back to him. "Yeah, we were both drinking. And arguing. Mostly you were telling me what a complete dick I was."

Molly nodded as he handed her back the water; if he thought she was going to contradict or reassure him, he was in for a long wait. "I told you…that you always said such awful things. And then you kissed me."

"To be fair, you kissed him back just as hard," Victor cut in, grinning madly. "I thought you were going to spike into Heat right then and there. But no," he shook his head sadly, "no such luck. Sherlock dragged you off here, and the party just went on without you. Oh, Sherlock, most of the lads say good on you for finally getting laid, and Molly, everyone else sends their sympathies." Impossibly, his grin widened. "None of 'em are going to believe you two Bonded, though!"

Sherlock and Molly both groaned at the same time. "My parents are going to want to meet you right away," Sherlock groused.

"My mother's still going to kill me," Molly added as she once again buried her face in her hands. "I promised. I swore up and down that it wouldn't happen till I was finished with school. Gods know I'm not ready to start a family yet!"

"Neither am I," Sherlock rushed to assure her. "And there's nothing that says we can't hold off on that. We'll just have to double up on the birth control and keep a stock of levonorgestrel on hand for your Heats…"

"Okay then, that's my signal to leave!" Victor announced loudly from the door. "You two kids have fun – and don't do anything I wouldn't do!" He leered at them, then finally – finally! – left them alone, shutting the door firmly after himself.

Sherlock looked at Molly, and she looked at him, and it was obvious they had no idea what to do next.

"It was from my friend Meena," Molly finally said. When Sherlock squinted at her in obvious confusion, she clarified. "The flower. She gave it to me, from a bouquet her parents had delivered to congratulate her on getting accepted into medical school. She gave it to me because it matched my lipstick. She thought it was cute."

"Ah," was all Sherlock could manage to say. "And the tight clothes? Was I right about that?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Sherlock, I was at a party. Of course I was wearing different clothes than what I wear to class! As to whether I was on the pull or not…" She gave him an appraising look, one that had him shifting uncomfortably and all but licking his chops when he inhaled a deep breath of her scent. "I guess it doesn't matter since I landed the one Alpha I never thought I had a chance with."

Then she smiled, and Sherlock completely forgot about his hangover, Victor, his family, or anything else except the deep curve of his mate's lips and the clear scent of arousal drifting toward his nose. "So, um, now that we're already Bonded and all," he said, inching closer to her, "do you think you might want to see what the sex is like when we're both in a fit state to remember it?"

"Oh Gods yes," she breathed. Their lips crashed together in a series of needy kisses as they ran their hands over each other's body. Clothing was removed and tossed away as they found their way back to the bed. Molly ran her fingers over the hard ring of glands that would eventually swell and form his Knot at the base of his cock, and Sherlock thought for sure he would come right then and there.

Molly thought the same seconds later, after he'd flipped her onto her back and began licking and kissing his way down her body, stopping only to nip at the Mark he'd left on her neck. Molly whimpered and arched her back as he reached her breasts; he mumbled something about being wrong about them being too small before sucking one nipple into his mouth and suckling eagerly. Molly's fingers went to his hair, clasping him closer, and he reached up to tease her other nipple with his hand, first palming it until it tightened into a hard little nub, then plucking at it with his fingers while she incoherently urged him on.

She smelled delicious, the scent of her arousal fairly making his mouth water as he kissed his way down her body, licking her navel and easing her thighs apart. Her hands were in his hair, tugging hard as he settled between her legs, his face only centimeters from her sex. He rather liked the feel of it; no other lover had done more than run their fingers through his hair and he really hoped Molly would keep it up.

He used the pads of his thumbs to slowly, delicately slide her open to his view, releasing even more of the intoxicating aroma of her sex. He wasted no more time in olfactory and visual appreciation, not when his more tactile senses were demanding that he touch and taste. His tongue darted out, sliding up the exposed seam of her sex and back down again, dipping into her cunt to lap up more of her musky juices, wringing a moan of pleasure from her throat as she continued to tug on his hair.

The feel of her blunt fingernails digging into his scalp spurred him into a frenzy of motion, delving his tongue deep into her slit before sucking her clit between his lips. When he added the tip of his tongue Molly nearly levitated off the bed, which was fine with him since it put his mouth into closer contact with her cunt and nearly drove him delirious with desire.

He set to work, intent on driving her just as wild as he was; judging by the way she was calling out his name and tugging on his hair, he was succeeding. His cock throbbed and he knew it wouldn't be long before instinct and need drove him into the delicious heat of her pussy. But not, he resolved, until he'd made her come in his mouth. She tasted far too good for him to want to stop now.

The slippery flesh beneath his tongue, the scent of her arousal, the musky taste of her, the sound of her hoarse cries as he drove her relentlessly toward fulfillment; she filled his senses, giving him a high no drugs or alcohol ever had. In the moments when her orgasm washed over her and her juices flooded into his mouth in a warm gush, he resolved to give both vices up if this was his reward.

Besides, once the babies started coming there would be a lot less tolerance for his cavalier attitude toward life.

Crap. Bonding really did change you. Either that or else he was finally doing what his brother was always blathering on about: growing up.

"Sherlock?" Molly's tentative, questioning voice brought him back into the moment. He realized he'd gone utterly still, his mouth still against her body, and her worry flooded through him in an uncomfortable stream. He raised himself on his elbows, licking his lips in an exaggerated and highly vulgar manner as he met her gaze.

"Sorry, sometimes my mind just races away from me no matter what I'm doing."

It wasn't much of an apology and he knew it, but it was the best he could do while still struggling with the unexpected - but not entirely unwelcome - changes to his outlook on life.

Molly's expression morphed from concern to understanding. "It's the Bond," she said softly. "It'll take a while to get used to."

He nodded, then raised himself on hands and knees, moving up her body until they were face to face. "Right now, the only thing I want to get used to is being inside you," he growled. "Everything else can fucking wait."

The spike in her scent and the expansion of her pupils told him how very much she agreed with him. With a groan, he lowered his body over hers, sliding his cock against her soaking wet folds before slipping deep, deep inside her.

Oh Gods, it felt just as wonderful as he'd expected it to. Even though his Knot wouldn't rise, it felt so good he had a bare inkling of just how fucking amazing their first shared Heat was going to be. Molly's legs were wrapped around his waist as she urged him in deeper, and the wet sounds of their sweat-streaked forms slapping together dragged a deep groan from his throat. His teeth worried at the Bond-wound he'd given her, and Molly keened high and loud as she came for a second time, her fingernails digging into his shoulders deep enough to draw blood.

Pleasure exploded through him at the feeling, all his senses being fed to the point of overload. His cum poured into her as she clenched around him, holding him impossibly tighter to her body, crying out his name as he cried out hers. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling the renewed flow of blood smearing against his face. Another vague memory surfaced: up until the mid 19th century, a newly Bonded pair would make their public debut without having washed or cleaned themselves in order for their friends and families to witness that initial joining.

For the first time ever, he understood the instinct to show the world how he and his Omega had committed themselves to one another. Even if it hadn't been a conscious choice, as he lifted his head and gazed down at Molly's smiling face, he realized he'd do it all over again, given the chance.

And when he told her so, her joy was transmitted through their Bond, mingling with his as they held one another.