"-And it was absolutely fantastic, like, mindblowing! I would recommend this, 100 percent," said the stout blonde excitedly as she pulled out a hard covered book from her bag. It was an awkward conversation to have during a lunch break at a coffee shop, but Molly knew how much this meant to her friend, due to the fact that Tiffany and her husband had been having a rough patch over the past few months, mainly due to issues within the bedroom.
Molly briefly glanced at the emboldened title in front of her; THE KAMASUTRA OF VATSYAYANA.
"Eric and I tried like, six or seven of these. I absolutely loved 'The Crouching Tiger'," she made air quotations around the words, grinning widely. "Seriously Molls, oh my god. It makes you feel so empowered. You have to kind of-"
Molly watched and listened patiently, as her friend went into detail on how the position worked (a little too loudly for her liking), finding herself musing over her own sex life. It wasn't bad, not at all. Sherlock was surprisingly well educated in certain areas; ones you wouldn't expect at first glance from the consulting detective. He was great in bed, no doubt about it. However, it sometimes made Molly feel a little insecure. Not that she thought she was bad or anything, more like she wanted to better her own performance. Sherlock never seemed to mind, but it always niggled at the back of her thoughts.
"Molls, you and your boyfriend should totally get into this. It's worth it." Tiffany's slightly nasal voice broke her from her musings.
"What? Oh! I, erm, I don't know if he'd be into this kind of stuff." Molly shifted in her seat, cheeks pinking at the thought of Sherlock pouring over the book, before deeming it idiotic and throwing it at the wall.
Tiffany giggled a bit. "Oh trust me, once you're both at it, he won't mind one bit. Actually, if you'd like, you can borrow my copy." She thrust the book into Molly's hands before she could be stopped.
"Oh, no. It's fine, really. It's not really his thing, honestly." Tiffany worked in the maternity ward at Bart's, so she had never actually met Sherlock. Good thing too, Molly thought, she'd probably want to rip her hair out in the first fifteen minutes of being in his presence.
Tiffany pouted a bit, cocking her head slightly to the side. Her full lips pursed, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Are you sure he's not gay, Molly? Like another crazier boyfriend...?" The trail at the end of her sentence clued Molly into just who she was talking about, but before Molly could protest, her friend spoke again. "Speaking of your ex's, have you spoken to Tom recently? What exactly happened between you two? You guys were so cute together."
Molly sputtered her coffee a bit. "Tiff, I- I." she gulped, before clearing her throat. "Erm, thank you, but I-"
"Sorry," Tiffany broke in. "I know, none of my business." She picked up the book again, holding it out to Molly with a slightly reprimanding look on her face. "But, I'll have none of it. Just take it and try it out. Everyone deserves to have a bit of fun, 'specially you, little miss perfect!" Tiffany winked at her, smiling coyly.
Well, that was that. Still, Molly waited until she got home to open the book. She flipped through the first few pages, cheeks heating as her eyes skimmed the pages.
It was ridiculous how embarrassed she felt reading this, even though no one was around watching. It's okay; she thought to herself, just read it and choose one you like, or one you think you'd like. You don't even have to do it; Sherlock won't even know you'd thought about it. Hopefully.
She skimmed through the book, growing more embarrassed by each page she turned. Yet, strangely, she felt intrigued. She had no idea that there were would be so many creative positions, all for the purpose of sexual stimulation - and that people could be so flexible.
"How does one get their legs up there?" she murmured to herself, tilting the book and wrinkling her nose a bit.
She shut the book and set it down in her lap. Would Sherlock mind trying something new like this? Was it too... weird? Molly chuckled at the irony. The 'Butterfly' sounded interesting. An image of Sherlock hoisting her legs over his shoulders while grinding into her on a table surfaced. The heat that she felt in her face traveled down to the pit of her stomach.
She recalled the position Tiffany had mentioned, The Crouching Tiger, and picked up the book again, searching through the table of contents, and eagerly flipping to the page once she'd found it. Her eyes widened. It was something new, and new things were always worth trying.
Sherlock was situated in his armchair by the fire place, in the middle of tuning the strings of his violin when he heard a light tapping sound coming from outside. He stood up and maneuvered himself towards to the window. He peered at the small figure standing outside the entrance to 221B, a faint smile touching his lips at the sight of auburn hair, flowing down her back. He tapped on the window until he caught her attention, and then gestured for her to come up to his flat.
Molly shyly came up, teeth latched onto her lower lip. She toyed with the strap of her bag, clearly a bit nervous.
"Sorry for just showing up. I tried texting you, but you didn't answer..."
"My mobile is in my coat pocket," he said, as if that was explanation enough, then as an afterthought, he added, "And I was preoccupied."
She bit her lip, and dipped her head. "Ah."
Sherlock strode forward, coming to a stop in front of her. "Molly, you are aware that there is no need for you to knock anymore. I gave you a key for that sole purpose."
"-What? Oh! I - I know, I realised I had forgotten it on my way here, and… " she leaned a little towards him. "I was a bit, erm, preoccupied myself."
He noted her dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, intensified breathing, mild fidgeting, and the fact that she was wearing - only one layer of clothing? His brow arched in interest. He was well acquainted with Molly's love of layers. Oh Molly, Molly, Molly. It was clear now that she came here with one sole purpose.
Desire.
Sherlock curved his hand over her cheek, taking one step closer until their bodies were almost touching. "Care to elaborate?" he rumbled, voice gone down an octave. He was steadily looking down at her, and Molly felt the heat at the pit of her stomach rise up.
"No." her voice came out smaller than she intended, more breathy.
"Good."
His hand traveled from her cheek, to the back of her head and pulled her close, their lips colliding. He carefully guided his lips against hers, moving down her neck, all the while undoing the buttons of her cardigan. Once he discarded the flimsy garment, he discovered she was wearing not a stitch underneath. Pride at having deduced it spiked in the back of his mind, before he promptly smothered it down, grinning wickedly at her.
"Came here prepared, didn't we?" His lips grazed her collarbone, followed by his teeth.
She grinned slightly, and absentmindedly said "Yes…" then halted with a frown on her face. "Hold on – yes, I did." She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away gently - leaving a perplexed look on his face.
"C-can we go to the bedroom, please?"
Sherlock studied her. Molly usually never minded where they had sex. Hell, one time they did it on top of his coffee table. She was nervous. Nervous about what? He then noticed the bag she regularly brought along with her sitting on the floor next to her discarded cardigan. It sat with a heavy weight, which was strange considering that Molly only ever carried a wallet, her makeup purse, a notebook and pencil case, with her phone in the front pocket of her bag. There was something else in there, though. A book, perhaps? A large book, at that. Why would she bring a book with her? Molly evidently came straight from her flat and had time to drop off unnecessary items. The book was for him, clearly a gift. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
He simply nodded and let her lead the way to his bedroom, taking note of her quickly seizing her bag before leaving the room.
Once they were inside, he grabbed her by the waist and recommenced by kissing and sucking on her neck.
"Wait – wait," Molly wriggled out of his hold. "Sit, please?"
Curious, Sherlock thought, very curious indeed. He awkwardly moved away from her and sat on the bed, while she was digging in her bag for something - the book, most likely. Odd timing, to be giving a gift.
Once she found the book, she began quickly flipped through the pages, before handing it to him.
"Flip to the bookmarked page," she whispered softly, chewing at her lip.
He looked at the title of the paperback and arched an eyebrow. "The Kamasutra of Vatsyayana?" the corner of his mouth went up, "Oh, Miss Hooper…" Sherlock's brow arched higher when he looked at the bookmarked page, and he lifted his head to gaze up at her, a slightly amused smile on his lips.
"Don't look at me like that! My friend Tiff insisted I borrow it from her, and I thought it over, and... " She lowered her eyes to the floor, her eyelashes fluttering. "I figured we could try new things."
Sherlock dropped the book onto the bed and it bounced off onto the floor. "Are you implying that you're not satisfied with my performance?" He actually looked a little hurt, Molly noted.
"What? No! I'm just – I-" A crimson blush spread over her face. She reached out for his wrists and brought his large hands to her chest.
"I want to-" She moved in closer until she was gazing down at him, her lower lip wedged between her teeth. "-try something."
His eyes analyzed every detail about her like a backscatter. There was something about her that was different - something about the look in her eyes. Lust was definitely there, but he couldn't identify the other aspect.
"Will you let me? I mean, it might not be your thing - and that's okay if it isn't! I just want to, uh… I thought that I mi-"
"Do it."
Molly gaped at him. "What?"
"I said, do it." He removed his hands from her chest which were closed over her breasts, and entwined his fingers with hers, drawing her nearer to him.
"Let us assess Vatsyayana's study," with their lips only inches apart, Molly could feel his hot breath on her lips, notching up her sexual drive. "-And see if it is up to par."
Their lips came together softly, and very gently he took the bottom of her lip into his mouth and sucked on it, making Molly moan gently. She unbuttoned his shirt clumsily, hands shaking.
Sherlock's hands strayed from her chest to her hips, attempting to peel off her skirt and knickers. Molly helped remove them, and then pushed him down so that he was lying on his back.
"Okay. I think I have to-"
"No, no. Come here, first." Sherlock pat the bed beside him.
Molly complied, crawling onto the bed and sitting next to where he lay. "What is it?"
He sat up and pushed her down, looming over her. "I haven't prepared you yet." Ever so slowly, Sherlock slipped a finger between her folds, raising a small gasp from Molly. "Let me prepare you first, and then after," he gazed into her eyes. "-we can do whatever you like."
She nodded in agreement, too overwhelmed to speak from the feeling of his finger working inside her. He subtly grazed her left breast with his teeth, taking her budding nipple into his mouth.
"M-more…" Molly softly moaned, with her toes digging into the mattress. And with that, she felt another finger slip in, this one rubbing at her clit.
"You're so wet, already..." Sherlock whispered into her breast, while pumping his fingers into her. He trailed kisses from her breast down her torso, until he met her mound.
Molly balled her hands into fists when she felt a warm; wet, sensation against her labia, before she was parted and his tongue pressed flat against her clit. A shiver ran down her spine, a breathy moan of his name passing from her lips as he lapped at her.
After a short time, Molly could feel herself moving closer to the edge, and buried her hands into Sherlock's curls, beginning thrust her pelvis more into his face.
"Come for me, Molly." She looked down at him, and found that he was watching her, glassy eyed. A ball of burning pleasure was growing with each time he sucked at her pink bud, onto the point that she trembled and felt like she was going to explode. He was so good with his tongue. Her grip tightened on his hair as she arched her back, and came with a strangled cry.
Sherlock sat up, sucking off her juices from his fingers. He stood up from the bed and began to undo his belt, then his trousers, and off slipped his pants. His hard cock swung free, curving upwards towards his belly button.
Molly wasn't sure on what position she had wanted to try before she had arrived, but now it seemed clear. He was on the bed again and moved over her. Just as he was about to lean down to kiss her, she clamped her thighs against his waist and rolled them over, until she sat astride him.
She beamed at him. "My turn."
Molly moved further down, and wrapped her fingers around his penis. She pumped it once, producing a short hiss from Sherlock. She pumped him a few more times, causing the same sounds to escape from his mouth.
Licking her lips, she bent forward and licked the tip of his head. His moans of pleasure drove her to open her mouth wide to take him all in. She sucked moderately at first, but gradually started to suck at him harder, until he was panting heavily. She stopped the moment she felt him beginning to tense up.
"Wh- wha…? Christ, Molly…"
"Condom. Lube."
Sherlock reached over to his bed stand, opened a drawer, and pulled out lubricant and a condom. He ripped the condom packaging with his teeth and pulled it over his shaft. Just as he was about to squirt lube onto his hand, Molly took the bottle from his grasp. She sat on top of him and squeezed some lubricant onto her palm, then very delicately coated his shaft.
She experimentally grinded her hips lightly against his balls just to see his reaction, and was quite pleased with what she got. He gasped loudly, and Molly had to stifle back a giggle, to which he responded with something that closely resembled a snarl.
"Oh, hush, you!" she playfully hit his chest. "Let's start off with… I think it's called 'The Clip'. Lie back down and close your legs, please." He did so, watching her with curious, lustful, eyes as she shifted on top of him.
Molly slid onto his cock, very tentatively at first and bent backwards, supporting herself with her hands.
"Very nice," murmured Sherlock appreciatively, gaze heavy lidded.
"What is?" she blinked at him, confused. "We haven't even started."
"I meant the view." His voice sounded breathy and hitched, he lowered his eyes to the apex of her thighs. "I'm assuming that I am to stimulate your clitoris?"
She bit her lip, biting back a smile "If you'd like."
She began to move her hips in rhythmic movements as he rubbed her clit, slowly at first, then more vigorously.
Sherlock beheld Molly riding him. He recalled a time where he would have dismissed her as mediocre, just like any other female, but ever since his sentiment for her came to be, he realized he had never known someone as beautiful as her. True, she wasn't a conventional beauty, yet still there was something about her that lured him in. Well known for solving things with his deductions, this was something he could not figure out at all. It started out as mere sentiment for her. She was his friend, one of the only people he could use that term with, and after two years since he faked his suicide, he came back to find her a changed woman. Not entirely different of course - she still had a horrid fashion sense, always smiling, but with a more visible confidence. She didn't even stumble around him anymore. And she had met someone.
She was happy, he told himself at the time. That was all that mattered, her happiness.
It almost sounds as if you're in love, said a nagging voice in his head that sounded very irritatingly similar to his brother, Mycroft. Love? He wasn't sure about that, but he did care for her. He could admit that much.
It was months later that she came to his flat to tell him that her engagement was off. He wasn't exactly shocked, but was still left speechless. He knew he should have felt sympathy, or something like it, yet, he felt strangely happy about it. He hated himself for it.
" I… I'm sorry -"
"Sherlock."
"You will find happiness one day, Molly. I'm sure of it -"
"Sherlock."
"What?"
"Shut up." Molly had said, more sternly this time. "I broke it off with Tom."
He was puzzled, and left speechless once again. He wasn't certain if he liked the new feeling she stirred in him. It made him feel idiotic, useless. Most definitely in love, the returning obnoxious voice in his head had said. He had aggressively shaken his head, trying to shake the voice out.
"What's wrong?" Molly had asked, with a concerned look on her face.
"Nothing," came his sharp remark. "Do continue."
She looked at him with wary eyes, then down towards the floor. "Everyone thought I was happy, and for a long time I thought I was too..." She looked up at him with fresh tears brimming in her eyes, staring towards him. "I wasn't sure when you were going to come back, or if you were ever going to come back, Sherlock, so I told myself that I had to move on."
He had an idea of where she was taking this conversation, and her tears were unnerving him. "Molly-"
She held up her hand. "No! Please, don't interrupt me. I need to say this." She was trembling, and obviously having a difficult time getting out the words that she wanted to say.
"I thought I was happy, Sherlock. I really did, but even then... I still thought about you, and I realised that I never really stopped caring for you." She subconsciously twisted the finger where her engagement ring should have been.
"Tom was good to me. Sure, he's a bit of a dope, but he still cared for me. He loved me. I wasn't being fair to him, though, so I let him go. He deserves someone who can love him entirely. Not a woman like me, who's in love with someone else."
This couldn't be happening, he had thought to himself. Molly deserved to be happy. What could she expect from someone like him? He didn't believe that he could give her all that she deserved, no matter how much he wanted to.
He closed his eyes, and sighed. "Someone?" Refusing to acknowledge what she was trying to say.
She gripped the knot of his scarf, and pulled him close, hoisting herself onto the tip of her toes. "Surely, you'd have deduced it by now, Sherlock." She whispered throatily into his ear. "I love you."
Before he could rationalize his thoughts, he had taken hold of the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. She balled her hands into fists and gripped onto his hair. Their bodies tightly melded together in the kiss, becoming one. That night, right there on the living room floor was the first time they had sex.
Now, Molly gasped loudly, as she rocked her hips against him. "Don't stop. Ju- just, don't..."
Sherlock moved his hands from her clitoris, over her stomach to gently massage her breasts. He sat up and held her closer to him, so that she was sitting on his lap. She gasped, and looked a little startled before she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung onto him for support. She was bouncing on him, becoming more slick and wet with each thrust as he left bite marks on her neck, and chest, while caressing her arse. He could feel the sting of her nails raking his back and peeling his skin. Sharply sucking in a breath, he felt her walls tighten around his cock as Molly began to tense and buck on him harder.
Sherlock began to thrust his hips faster until Molly was certainly on the verge of screaming his name, but he stopped her by pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her lips. She cried out into his mouth, which sent vibrations to his cock and pushed him over the edge as well.
"Ungh, Molly," he grunted out, lips pressing harder against hers.
"-Oh, S-Sherlock!"
"Love you..." he gasped out, forehead dipping against her collarbone.
Molly almost choked on air as the last words slipped from his lips. She gawked at him in awe. He had never said that to her before, not in all the months that they'd been together. But she didn't need him to say it, she just knew. The way he looked at her, the way he acted around her, and smiled at her- all those little things. He didn't need to say anything to get his point across, and he knew that, so the fact that he decided to say it, made her fall in love with him even more in that split second.
He thrust hard in her until he came down, groaning into the crook of her neck as she pressed small kisses against his forehead.
They sat like that for a moment, basking in the aftershocks of their sex, trying to catch their breaths again, before untangling from one another. She held him still afterwards, holding his head lovingly against her chest.
"I'm pretty sure I've seen that last move somewhere in the book," she whispered into his dark curls.
"Mmmm..." Sherlock murmured, still too boneless to answer properly.
"So, what do you think? Worth trying again?" she grinned down at him, still stroking his curls tenderly.
"Oh, most definitely." He kissed up against her throat. "Let's do another review on one of Vatsyayana's chapters."
"The Crouching Tiger sounds interesting."
"Explain the details?"
She grinned at him, "I think it would be best if I showed you."
He smirked at that. "Well, I'm waiting, Miss Hooper."