Jim/Molly Smut because… just because it's hot.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the things.
He pulls out the gun from his waistband as he pushes her hips painfully into the counter. Molly giggles as she always does when he surprises her with sex. She feels his hardness pushing into her lower back even with the layers of clothing between them.
'Molly,' he groans as he sinks his teeth into her neck.
'Jim,' she replies, 'my Jimmy.'
He spins her around, his left arm encircling her waist, pulling her hips to meet his own, forcefully. In his right hand she sees the gleam of his gun, hears the click as he flicks off the safety. Oh, so it's going to be like that is it, Mr Moriarty?' She thinks, inwardly. Her expression doesn't give much away beyond a gleam of humour in her warm brown eyes.
'Oh, Jim,' she sighs, 'and here was me thinking you loved me.' She finishes with a smirk before nipping at his lips with her teeth. He smiles back, taunting her. She's certain the gun isn't loaded, but there's always a chance with Jim. She doesn't deny the unmistakable flicker of arousal as he slides the gun up the side of her neck, stopping when it rests against her temple. She sees the heat in his eyes too, watches closely as his pupils dilate. It's the ultimate thrill for both of them, her life in his hands and the balance of power completely in his favour. She rewards him with a brain-melting kiss, nipping and sucking at his lower lip. Their tongues entwine but he teases her by making the kiss gentle, almost taking his lips away from hers. She lets out a groan of frustration and loops her arms around his neck in an effort to bring him closer. This has the opposite effect when he pulls cleanly away.
'Now, now, Miss Molly,' he grins his devilish grin, before biting his lip in a twisted approximation of coyness. 'What would they say if they could see you know?' She knows exactly who he's talking about and if he wants her to blush he's going to be disappointed.
'I am not the Molly they know, my angel.'
'Angel?' he raises an eyebrow quizzically, looking like he wants to spit at the use of the name.
'Angel of death,' she states, earning a smile from him that crinkles the corner of his eyes. Jim's face is one of the most expressive she's ever seen on a man, both in joy and anger. He suddenly lifts her up onto the counter she's been leaning against, desire burning in his eyes. They look almost black when he's aroused, like if she stared into them too long she's be sucked into a black vacuum.
She whispers 'fuck me, Jim,' and it's the catalyst he needs, actions frenzied now. He pulls off her shirt, disregarding the buttons that fly everywhere. He throws his gun down on the counter, wanting both his hands for the exploration of his body. In all things Jim is thorough, in this too as he pushes her bra aside to attach his mouth to her nipple. His other hand roams her body before dropping to release her from her trousers before taking himself from his own. Molly pushes his head back and smooths his hair so that his eyes meet hers as he enters her.
It's like he turns wild as he fucks her, or perhaps this is the real Jim, like a caged animal except for when he gets let out to play. He grabs her hair and twists it in his hand so that her head is jerked back painfully. He ravages her neck and Molly can feel her orgasm building inside her, the pain he inflicts on her heightening her senses. She screams as she comes, digging her nails into his back so hard she draws blood. He finishes inside her, with an animal growl of his own and collapses against her, exhausted. She strokes his hair, cooing her pleasure into his ear.