Dear reader, in this fic, Sherlock does not practice good domming. Please do not take his actions as an example of a good bdsm relationship. He will improve in the following fics but for now he is new and stupid, so please please don't think that this is a good way to do it. Thanks!
This fic will be ten chapters and will be updated either biweekly or once a month depending on how fast I get these long chapters out.
I thought of angels, choking on their halos
Get them drunk on rose water.
See how dirty I can get them, pulling out their fragile teeth
And clip their tiny wings.
Just One Yesterday – Fall Out Boy
"Clearly you don't belong here. Though you are putting up quite a good show of it."
Molly Hooper jumped, whirling on her heel to find the deep baritone that had spoken so close to her ear. She stumbled, sloshing her drink over her hand, and giggled. She hadn't been this drunk, possibly ever, and she felt wonderfully numb and happy in the dark club and so chose to ignore the stranger's rude comment. Her roommate had abandoned her not too long before, heading out onto the dance floor. Meena had been restless, eager to burn of the energy of the alcohol and the anxiety of a hard week at uni.
"And you are?" she asked, slurring out the words, an eyebrow raised as she gazed appreciatively at the man who stood before her.
He was maybe two or three years older than she, and strikingly handsome. His face was sharp, defined by impossibly high cheekbones and plush lips. Molly licked her own thin lips appreciatively and tucked a loose lock of long brown hair behind her ear, before returning her eyes to his face.
"Doesn't matter," he replied, leaning forward to whisper it in her ear, using his impressive height to tower over her, unruly dark brown curls falling across his forehead. Molly shivered, desire rushing over her. When he pulled back, she caught a closer glimpse of his eyes, and the vague thought occurred to her from the almost completely silenced analytical part of her mind, that his electric blue-green eyes were far too dilated even for the oppressive darkness of the club.
"Doesn't it?" she inquired, fighting to make her tongue form the words. She had really had too much, but considering that she'd been partying like this each weekend for months, it didn't really matter to her. All that mattered was forgetting. She grinned at the man, eyeing his fit body, perfectly showcased in a tight white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black dress trousers. He could be the perfect distraction for the night, if he was willing.
"Not at all," he said firmly. "Though I could tell you quite a bit about yourself, if I was so inclined," he continued, his mouth curving in a smirk that made him even more devilishly handsome. Molly eyed his lips, feeling the urge the run her tongue across them. She settled for placing her index finger lightly against his mouth.
"Not a word," she whispered, her face inches from his own. Her eyes flitted back to his lips and in a split second, she felt herself pushed against the wall of the club, with his lips on hers. She didn't even notice when she dropped her drink, the glass shattering against the concrete floor, to wrap her arms around the stranger.
He kissed like a storm, drowning her in the sudden onslaught, making her simultaneously feel as if she should hide and also that she wanted to dance in the downpour. His tongue brushed her lips, demanding entry to her mouth as he controlled her with one hand cupping her chin tightly.
Molly yielded beautifully, opening to his touch like a flower to the sun, reveling in the way he took complete control, nearly forcing the reactions from her. His free hand slid up her outer thigh, brushing her bare skin as he slowly inched up the flouncy miniskirt she wore. He reached around to grip her arse under the skirt, groaning as he rolled her body against his own. Molly gasped into his mouth, feeling his cock press against her hip. She needed more, needed him, and was whimpering with desire as he continued snogging her, flattening her small body between the wall and his own, much larger, frame. He pulled back slightly, breathing hard, and ghosted his lips over hers.
"Your place, or mine?" he asked simply, and Molly bit into her bottom lip. Chances were that her roommate wasn't going to be home that night, but she didn't feel like taking the risk. Besides, she could make a cleaner escape in the morning if he didn't know where she lived. Decision made, she opened her mouth, and was surprised by his lips cutting off her words. He kissed her hard, then pulled back to grin roguishly at her.
"Mine, perfect."
Her brows furrowed as her alcohol-fogged mind puzzled over his ability to know what she was going to say before she said it. He winked at her and stepped back, grabbing her hand. He practically dragged her through the crowd, stopping once to stare down a blond man who had reached out to grab Molly's free arm in an attempt to speak to her. The look on her escort's face was truly terrifying and Molly gulped, looking between the two men. Luckily, the blond backed down quickly, and her curly-haired companion continued hauling her through the throng of people. They reached the door and both took a deep gulp of clean, cool, spring air as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. He threw a hand up, flagging down a cab as he simultaneously pulled Molly close with his other arm, threading his fingers through her long brown hair to pull her chin up, his lips once again crashing onto hers.
His dexterous fingers massaged the back of her head slightly as he kissed her, and Molly once again felt as if she was being dragged along in the wake of his overwhelming control. She let out a small whimper and he pulled back, staring down at her and bringing his other hand down to trail a single finger along her cheek.
A cab pulled up and he turned, opening the door for her to scoot inside. He followed, and gave an address to the driver, settling back into the seat and pulling Molly tightly against him. He placed his hand on her bare leg, his fingers ghosting across her pale skin, inching slowly further up her inner thigh. Molly tried to hold still as his fingers drifted dangerously close to her sex, trailing along the edge of her knickers. She wanted nothing more than to pull his hand to her pussy, for him to touch her, bring relief to the ache that was rapidly building in her core. She made a movement, and his other hand shot out, capturing hers and forcing it to the seat between them.
"No," he whispered in her ear, following his words with his tongue, making her squirm. "You will not move, not make a sound. Take it, there's a good girl."
Molly's breath caught in her chest as a flood of wetness coated her pussy. She'd often wished in the past that her sexual partners had been more forceful, more controlling. Now, this gorgeous man with the expressive eyes was looking at her like she was the prey to his predator. It thrilled her.
She shivered, leaning against him slightly and parting her legs just the tiniest bit. He sucked in a breath and almost instantly his fingers were delving under the thin material of her knickers and plunging into her pussy, running along her slit. He kept his upper body still, not a hint of what he was doing visible to the driver. His long fingers found her opening and he slipped two fingers shallowly into her. He smirked at her gasp and pulled back, circling the wet digits around her clit. Molly went rigid the second he touched the sensitive bundle of nerves and he chuckled softly. He slowly ran his fingers over her, circling leisurely, until Molly was panting and fighting to not grind herself against his hand.
"You want it so bad, don't you? You wicked girl, you want me to get you off right here in the back of the cab. Tell me, I want to hear you say it," he whispered in her ear, shifting to suck a dark mark into the skin just below it. Molly shuddered, trying in vain to regulate her rapid breathing.
"God yes, please," she gasped back, praying she was quiet enough that the cabbie wouldn't hear them.
"Please what, tell me or I'll stop," he said, her earlobe between his teeth.
"Ungh!" Molly was panting, just on the edge of what promised to be an epic orgasm. "Make me cum, oh god, make me cum!" Her voice was little more than a needy whine.
"Good girl," he praised, and redoubled his efforts against her pussy. Mere seconds later, Molly stiffened, her back arching as her lips formed a perfect O shape and her eyes snapped closed. He gave her no mercy, rubbing at her sensitive clit until she reached down to drag his hand away. Molly stared at him, dazed, as he pulled his hand up to his face and sucked his fingers into his mouth.
"Mmm," he moaned with approval. "You are delicious." He grinned ferally at her. "I'm going to devour you, little one."
Molly moaned as he captured her lips again, barely letting her breathe for the remainder of the cab ride. The second the car stopped, he was tossing money in the general direction of the cabbie and pulling Molly out onto the sidewalk. He pulled her up to a building and pressed her against the door, her back to the cool surface. He grinned at her and kissed her again, one hand delving under her shirt as his other hand magically produced a set of keys, deftly unlocking the door. A push, and they were stumbling into the foyer, frantically tearing at each other's clothes. His shirt hit the floor along with his shoes, and her shoes, shirt and skirt. With a growl, he picked her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He manouvered around a set of stairs and down a hall to enter the ground floor flat, kicking the door closed behind him.
He navigated the room, stepping around a couch, and set her down gingerly in a large leather chair with wooden legs. He knelt between her legs and pulled one of them up, hooking her knee over his shoulder and flashed a devilish smile at her before pressing his face into her knickers, inhaling deeply. She gasped and moaned loudly, spreading her legs even wider for him as he teased her, sucking at her clit through the lacey material. She writhed against him, desperate for more friction and he growled. Working swiftly, he pulled her knickers from her and leaned up to capture her lips as he worked his hands behind her and unhooked her bra after a couple of tries. He grabbed her legs and hooked them over the arms of the chair and licked his lips as he gazed hungrily at her pussy. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but his hands on her inner thighs stopped her.
"No, no, no," he chided, shaking his head. "I think you need some help keeping yourself spread for me, don't you?" He smirked and picked up her bra. "Hold still," he instructed, and grasped one of her thighs, looping the bra around both her leg and the arm of the chair, before tying it securely, and slipping a couple fingers under the binding to ensure that it was not too tight. He picked up her knickers and proceeded to do the same to the other leg before realizing that there wasn't enough material to do so. With a grin, he tore them, making the strip longer, and tied her other leg.
"Sorry about that," he said cheekily as Molly groaned at the loss of her underwear. "Okay?" he asked. "Not too tight?" For a moment, he looked almost shy as he glanced up at Molly to gauge her reactions. She shook her head and he immediately dropped back down, hooking one arm around her thigh and burying his face in her wet cunt, sucking and licking ravenously at her.
Molly let out a high pitched shriek as his hot tongue delved into her pussy, and her hands went automatically to his hair, her fingers tangling in his dark curls. He groaned against her and she pulled harder, feeling him gasp against her. He shifted and Molly opened her eyes, hearing his zip. He glanced up at her, his blue eyes hazy with pleasure and Molly watched, spellbound, as his hand closed around his cock. His lips closed around her clit and he sucked as he pleasured himself. Molly licked her lips at the erotic sight, unable to look away. Her orgasm hit her so suddenly, she barely registered that she was close before she was gasping and straining against her bonds. He let her come down from her high before surging up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She greedily sucked his bottom lip, as his hands busied themselves with untying her. He stood and picked her up again, one hand rubbing the dented skin of her thigh.
"All right?" he asked, and she nodded breathlessly, before pulling him back down for a kiss.
He moaned helplessly into her mouth and carried her through the dark flat to a door past the kitchen and down the hall, pausing to kick it open. She barely registered the contents of the room before he had her flat on her back, and was reaching into the side table to snag a condom. He ripped open the packet and slid it onto his cock, quickly covering her body with his once again. He held her wrists above her head with one large hand, and rubbed a single finger across her lips. Her tongue darted out and she captured the digit, sucking it into her mouth. He groaned and leaned down to nip at her collarbone in retaliation. She let go of his finger and he rubbed the wet tip of it on one nipple, before blowing cool air on it, hardening it almost to the point of pain.
Unable to contain himself any longer, he reached down to grasp his cock and rub it against her wet entrance. He looked up at her and Molly bit her lip, nodding slightly at him. He groaned and pushed into her slowly, not stopping until he was fully inside her. Molly panted heavily as he stilled within her, letting her adjust to his size. Finally, she rolled her hips against him and he grinned down at her, pressing her hands down into the pillow slightly to indicate that she should keep them there. He let go and grasped her arse with both hands, angling her up before pulling out to the tip and slamming back into her.
Molly screamed out in pleasure with the first thrust, and quickly found herself breathless as he began fucking her hard, each push strong enough to move her up on the mattress. She grasped at the headboard and found a hold to anchor herself against his merciless thrusting. He clenched his teeth together and sat back on his heels, pulling her arse up even further, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her want to scream aloud. He fucked her hard and fast, giving her no time to breathe, and Molly quickly felt her third orgasm of the night approaching.
"Cum, ungh, cum with me," she gasped out, and he nodded frantically, not slowing his pace.
"Watch me," he demanded. "Look at me when you cum."
His command tipped her over the edge and her back arched off the bed and her hands came down to grasp at his hips as he pounded into her wildly. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on him, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm her, but she was rewarded for her obedience by the sight of him succumbing to his own bliss, thrusting into her and stilling, his whole body tense, muscles standing out on his slim frame, teeth clenched as he cursed lowly.
"Christ, fuck," he panted, collapsing to the bed next to Molly. He wearily pulled off the condom and knotted it before dropping it into a waste bin next to the bed. He rolled back over and, to Molly's surprise, pulled her close, his arms tight around her waist.
"Stay," he whispered, nuzzling her neck, pressing light kisses to the skin. She chewed her lip, debating, but finally nodded, and soon they both were fast asleep, tangled in each other's arms.
Molly woke in the wee hours of the morning with the pressing urge to pee. She looked over at the man next to her. Luckily, they had shifted during the night and were no longer cuddled intimately together. She sighed quietly, and crept out of the bed and room, making her way to the bathroom.
After relieving herself, Molly glanced in the mirror and gasped. Her neck and upper chest were dotted with love bites and her hair was an absolute mess. She combed her fingers through the rat's nest and tried to bring some semblance of order to it, finally giving it up as hopeless.
She crept into the living room and dressed quickly, frowning at her ripped knickers. They were useless now, and she wasn't looking forward to going home in the chilly pre-dawn air without underwear. An wicked little idea came to her, and she smiled, dropping the knickers into the chair that he'd bound her to just a few hours before.
One more look around, and Molly walked out of the flat and downstairs, disappearing into the night.
Sherlock woke several hours later with a massive hangover. His mouth was dry and tasted of stale cigarettes and whiskey. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, registering the rays of sunshine cascading across his room and groaned, realizing that he'd missed lunch with his parents. Automatically, he began to formulate an excuse, his mind stirring to life from its dormant state of intoxication. He grinned suddenly, remembering the night before and rolled over, fully intending to gather the girl up in his arms and seduce her into accompanying him to a rather late lunch, knowing that if he showed up with a girl, that all would be forgiven without a fuss. (His mother especially was becoming desperate for grandchildren.)
Sherlock's grin faded when he realized that the petite girl wasn't there. Sherlock sat up, feeling the sheets on the other side of his bed. They were stone cold and he frowned. She had been gone for a couple of hours at least. He pursed his lips in annoyance that he hadn't woken when the bed shifted. He sniffed, climbing out of bed and stretching, cracking the bones in his battered frame.
He didn't even know her name. But no matter, she wasn't important. He could pull anytime, it wasn't like the small girl with the large chocolate eyes was special. He gulped, remembering the way she moved under him, writhing and moaning in pleasure. He wished now that he had exchanged names with her, if only so that his mind could conjure up the memory of his name falling from her lips as she screamed in ecstasy.
He scowled down at himself as his cock took a sudden interest in his wayward thoughts. Well, he needed a shower anyway, and his sudden erection would take much more effort to will away than to just give in to. Decision made, Sherlock headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower, climbing in after a moment. He took a deep breath and relaxed, the warm water soothing his aching muscles. His eyes flew open as an image of the girl in the shower with him, on her knees at his feet, popped into his brain. He groaned and braced one hand against the wall in front of him, his free hand going to his cock. Sherlock closed his eyes again, this time willing the picture into existence. And there she was, long brown hair soaked, sticking to her face and neck, down her chest to cover her skin, giving just a glimpse of her dusky nipples poking through. Her lips were red and swollen like they had been the night before, and he groaned again as the vision bit her lip playfully, before sitting up on her knees, her mouth level with his groin. And then her lips were on him, her hands working the shaft, her throat opening for him. Sherlock thrust into his hand helplessly, moaning encouragements to the girl in his mind. It wasn't long before he lost control, spilling into his hand with a shout.
"Brother mine," came a voice from the bathroom door. "If you are quite finished, our parents have come to visit you."
Sherlock groaned again, this time in exasperation.
Twenty minutes later, a fully dressed Sherlock stalked into the sitting room, intent on first, appeasing his parents, and then shooing them out of his small flat so that he could use his newly developed art of deletion to remove the girl from his memory.
"Ah, there he is."
Sherlock frowned at his older brother, eyes narrowed.
"Hello Mycroft, been a good week at the bakery I see. You've stopped every morning."
Mycroft scowled at him, but was silent as their mother tutted quietly.
"Oh you two, now be civil to each other." She smiled pleasantly at Sherlock. "Well since you missed luncheon, your father and I thought we might bring you a bite to eat." She motioned to the take away container on the countertop and Sherlock grinned appreciatively at the aroma of curry emanating from it. Without any qualms, he reached for it and dug in with the fork conveniently resting on top.
"Thank you mummy," he said between bites. After a moment of chewing, he froze, eyes trained on his chair where a torn pair of knickers sat innocently on the seat.
"You're slipping, Sherlock," Mycroft said, a hint of glee in his normally passive voice. "Even father noticed quicker than you. Tell me, was it the alcohol or the sex that dulled your brain this time?"
"Oh hush up Mycroft!" ordered Mummy. "I think it's wonderful that he's brought a girl home. Is she still here?"
Sherlock gulped his bite down quickly. "No Mummy, she had a prior engagement," he fumbled, blushing crimson as he set down the curry and flew across the room to snatch up the offending garment and stuff it into his trouser pocket.
"Ah well," Mummy sighed, and Sherlock froze. She was doing her best to look wounded, and damn it, if it wasn't working on him. "Maybe we'll meet her sometime?" she asked hopefully, and Sherlock cursed inwardly.
"Of course, Mummy." His gaze cut to Mycroft, taking in the smug look plastered to his face but he, miraculously, said nothing.
Ten minutes later and Sherlock had managed to shoo his family out the door with empty promises of visits to the theatre echoing in the stairwell.
He turned on his heel and frowned, pulling the torn pair of knickers from his pocket. He had intended to delete the girl without a second thought but he could not let this pass without a word. She'd outted him to his parents and brother and caused him quite a bit of embarrassment.
Oh no, this absolutely cannot stand, Sherlock thought to himself.
He pursed his lips as he pondered his options, then smirked as he lit upon the answer. Picking up his cell, he dialed a familiar number and listened to the voice on the other end.
"Yeah listen Victor, I need a favor."
It turned out that Sherlock didn't need to call in a favor from his one and only friend, Victor Trevor, who knew absolutely everyone in the University. (Not to mention he'd slept with at least half of them, men and women. Sherlock had been beyond pleased to discover that his mystery girl had not been one of Victor's conquered.) After a while, it had become apparent that Victor didn't, in fact, know everyone, as he'd had no idea who the mystery girl was when Sherlock had described her to him.
Even with Sherlock's supreme skills of deduction, they were unable to narrow her down enough to find her, and Sherlock spent the next three days sulking.
"Ugh, could that cock load us up with any more work? You'd think the profs would take it easy this close to finals," Meena complained, her voice taking on that nasally whine that grated on Molly's nerves, not that she'd ever comment on it. A loud shush came from a couple of tables over and Meena stuck her tongue out at the boy with the glasses who had dared to issue it.
"Meena, keep it down, they take the library seriously," Molly remarked, her eyes never leaving the papers in front of her.
"Easy for you to say, you're just grading. That prof has got it for you."
"Ugh, McDermish?" Molly asked, with a shudder. "Just no. Besides, he's a prof and that's not happening."
"Oh come on, everyone already thinks you're sleeping with him because your grades are so good in his class. You might as well prove them right. It's not like he's bad looking." Meena stared dreamily into space for a moment before winking at Molly.
"Not my type," Molly replied, nose once again buried in the paper she was painting with bright red marks.
"Speaking of your type, tell me all about Saturday," Meena whispered, waggling her eyebrows. "You did the walk of shame, I saw you."
Molly grinned, chucking a crumpled paper across the table at her roommate. "Only because you were hugging the toilet," she countered, laughing quietly.
"Ugh don't remind me," Meena moaned dramatically. "Thank God there was a recovery day in there or I'd never have survived Monday. I'm never drinking again!"
"Where have I heard that before?" Molly muttered under her breath and was promptly hit in the face with the same wad of paper. "Oi!"
"So? Spill! What was he like, was he hot? We haven't had a chance to talk since then and it's already Wednesday! What was his name?"
Molly groaned, knowing that her friend wouldn't give up easily. "He was dominating, yes he was hot, and I didn't get his name. That's all there is to know. Did you finish the muscle chart?"
Meena frowned and crossed her arms, poking her full lips out in a pout. "You know I didn't and I'm not letting you off that easily, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. You rarely go home with a bloke, and you never spend the night. What made this one special?"
Molly sighed. "I don't know, I was really pissed?"
She rubbed her temples. In truth, she'd thought a lot about the mysterious man she'd hooked up with. His eyes kept flitting through her mind at inconvenient times, startling her and turning her on. She swore that she could still feel his hands on her, his cock pressed against her, his mouth sucking marks into her neck. She adjusted her scarf self-consciously. Meena's eyes narrowed.
"Why are you wearing that bloody scarf Mols? It's practically summer outside." She motioned to the window where the late February sun blazed down, heating the city to record high temperatures. Her eyes widened and she jumped up, knocking her chair over backwards. "MOLS DO YOU HAVE LOVE BITES?!" she demanded, as Molly winced and clapped a hand over her eyes as someone in the distance griped at them for the volume of their conversation. Meena shot them a quelling glance.
"Oh my god, will you sit down and shut up?" Molly hissed between her teeth, looking away from Meena, feeling a blush heat her cheeks.
"At least tell me what he looked like! He had to have been good to leave marks that are still there after three days," her friend pouted as she straightened her chair and seated herself once again. Molly smiled to herself, remembering a pair of blue-green eyes and a mop of dark brown curls.
"I've got to go, Meena," she said, waving a paper under her friend's nose. "I've got to meet up with this… thing… that writes so terribly. One more paper as illegible as this one is and I'm going to stop trying to decipher them and just fail the bloke. At least, I think it's a male."
Meena nodded sagely. "Must be, with handwriting that bad. You shouldn't have to put up with that, you're just the grader. You aren't getting paid for that stuff."
"Yeah well, wish me luck, they are supposed to meet me in the American Lit section."
Molly shouldered her bag and headed off to the other side of the library, offending document in hand.
Sherlock leapt up the steps and entered the library. A quick check of his watch showed that it was time to meet with the prick who was threatening to fail him in Chemistry. It wouldn't normally matter, but if Sherlock was sent down again so close to graduating, his parents would have his head on a plate. So he turned and headed for the American Literature section, cursing his ill luck at getting a grader who wouldn't just wade through his poor handwriting.
He finally got to the right place and turned a corner, running smack into a much shorter person whose face collided with his chest.
The girl let out a single high pitched shriek and fell backwards, arms flailing to find something to keep her upright. She happened to latch onto Sherlock who was too busy grumbling to brace himself, and they both tumbled over, Sherlock falling directly on top of the girl.
He caught himself with his arms, making an effective cage around the small girl's head and pushed up, intent on giving her a piece of his mind, but stopped short as he focused on her face.
There she was.
His mystery girl was cursing a mile a minute as she pulled hair out of her face and looked up to direct her cursing at him, having realized he wasn't moving to get off of her. Her words died off though, as she recognized him. In that moment, Sherlock did what was perhaps the most impulsive thing he'd ever done: he leaned back down and kissed the breath out of her.
He then stood and helped her to her feet, having deduced from the papers laying on the floor next to them that she was in fact, his grader.
"You'll learn to read it," he said, winking at her before turning to walk away.
Sherlock smirked as he walked down several aisles and turned, headed for a darkened corner in the rarely used section on British Law. The law classes were in session at the moment so there was virtually no chance of someone wandering back there. He heard quick footsteps behind him after a moment and grinned, pausing so she'd see him just before he turned the last corner. He stopped and leaned against the bookshelf, pretending to be interested in a dusty tome he pulled from the shelf. A feminine throat-clearing had him looking up and feigning surprise at the presence.
She stood with her hands on her hips, her lips tight and jaw clenched.
"What do you think you are doing?!" she demanded, whispering as loudly as she dared.
He held the book up and shook it slightly in her direction. "Reading," he drawled, with a slow grin. "What else do people do in libraries?" he added, suggestively quirking a single brow.
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Don't give me that shit," she said, and he smiled even broader at her language. "I've never seen you here, not even once!" She shook her head at him.
"No, you asked to see me. You're rather lucky I showed up though, I wouldn't normally."
"And I'm supposed to believe that you suddenly pop up out nowhere and oh look, you're the brilliant student I'm about to fail for ridiculously poor handwriting?" She flushed as she complimented and insulted him in the same sentence. "That's supposed to be a coincidence?"
"Do you know what we say about coincidences in my family?" he asked and she gave him a confused look. Sherlock snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf before leaning over her, pleased to see her flush pink again in the close proximity. "There is no such thing," he told her. His gaze flitted to the opening they had come from and back to her as he positioned himself in front of her.
He watched the connections form in her mind as her gaze darted from his face to the corner they occupied and back again. She unconsciously licked her bottom lip and his eyes followed the motion. Sherlock leaned towards her slowly to give her time to pull back, and when she held her ground, he captured her lips, one hand coming up to cup her chin and the other to grasp her hip tightly. She moaned into his mouth and Sherlock pulled her against him, turning to press her into the shelves. He pinned her there with his hips, grinding his erection into her. He pulled her hands above her head, kissing down her arm and smirking at her scarf. He pulled it from her, not bothering to hide his grin when he saw the fading marks decorating her pale skin.
"This is crazy," she gasped out as his lips closed over one of the places he'd marked before. "I barely even know your name."
"Sherlock Holmes, my handwriting isn't THAT bad," he whispered against her skin. "There, introductions made. Now I'd like very much to fuck you, Molly Hooper."
"I'm not even going to ask how you know my name," she muttered, rolling her eyes as he straightened to look at her, his lips inches from hers. "And no! We can't do this here! We'll get caught and, I don't know, get in trouble. Or worse, expelled."
"Come on Hooper, live a little," he said with a smirk, letting go of her hands and bracing an arm on either side of her head, leaning in to her. "Being good has to get boring sometimes."
"I'm not, um, I'm not always good."
"Oh no, I know that," he raised a brow and ground his pelvis into hers. "My sheets still smell like you."
Molly blushed beet red. "You are really something."
"I sure am," he quipped. "Now are you gonna have some fun or not?"
Molly gulped and looked around, before nodding slowly. "Fine. But only if you promise that you won't be loud or anything."
Sherlock smirked, and nodded his agreement before attacking her neck again, causing Molly to moan softly.
"We have to hurry, but it won't take you long, will it Molly? No it won't. I bet you are wet for me already." He dipped his hand into her trousers, pulling aside her knickers to press his finger into her pussy. Sherlock tsked and shook his head in mock disapproval as he found she was more than ready for him. "You should always wear a skirt," he remarked, dropping to his knees to work one shoe off and pull that leg of her trousers down and off, not bothering with the other side.
He pressed his nose into her knickers, inhaling deeply before looking up at Molly from under his lashes and licking his lower lip. "Mmmm you smell delicious. I'd like nothing more than to bring you to a screaming mess with my tongue again, but we'll keep it brief." He winked at her and pulled her knickers down to join her trousers tangled around one foot.
Molly gasped as his clever fingers slipped into her cunt again, pumping in and out as Sherlock stood to cover her mouth with his own. Her hands went to the button of his snug jeans and she made short work of both it and the fly. She pushed at them and his pants, lowering them just far enough to free his hard cock. It was her turn to sink to her knees before him as he leaned over her, holding onto the shelves and moaning as he watched her take him into her mouth. He let her play for only a moment though before handing her a condom he'd fished out of his wallet. She quickly covered him with it and he pulled her up, disregarding her frown of protest.
"Time," he reminded her, grasping her arse tightly. "Arms around my neck," he ordered, and chuckled as Molly stood on tippy-toes to reach all the way around his neck. She gave him an indignant look which he gleefully ignored. "Good, now jump."
He caught her easily as she jumped and wrapped her legs around his narrow hips. He braced her against the shelves, and let go of her with one hand before positioning himself and sliding into her in one long push. He froze inside her and rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily and trying to keep quiet.
Sherlock's hand went back to her arse, his head falling back and a soft groan escaping him as he savored the feel of her. It was intoxicating. He kept his pace unhurried, thrusting deeply into her, before pulling almost fully out and thrusting in again. Molly moaned, tightening her legs around him to pull him in, trying to get him to increase his pace. He obliged her, his hand moving between their bodies to rub at stroke her clit as he thrust into her. Soon enough, Sherlock felt the walls of her pussy tightening around his cock, and dove in to capture her lips as she shuddered and moaned into his mouth. He thrust hard into her a few more times before he also came, his legs almost collapsing as the pleasure rushed through his body. He deliriously smiled at her, thinking that he could get addicted to the feeling of her against him.
Sherlock set her down gently, and pulled his pants and trousers back up before helping Molly with her clothes. He didn't let her go, but pulled her back to him for a searing kiss, pressing her back into the shelf as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She moaned against him, and he pulled back, brushing her long hair from her face. She had a dazed, happy look in her eyes, and it made something in Sherlock's chest tighten. He turned his attention to her neck to hide his reaction to her.
"Hmm," he whispered, tracing a finger over one of the more prominent marks on her pale skin. "I rather like these."
"Marking your territory?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm and he nodded, giving her a roguish grin. She rolled her eyes. "I don't belong to anyone."
"You sure look like mine with my love bites all over you."
She frowned, wrapping her scarf around her neck once again. "Well I'm not yours."
He scowled at her, and crossed his arms. "Well what if you were?" She stared at him, brow furrowed for a moment.
"Sherlock," she began, intending to tell him that he was a good shag and all but she wasn't really looking for anything long-term when he interrupted her by picking her up and spinning her around.
"Perfect," he said gleefully. "That's perfect."
"Whoa wait, what is perfect?" she demanded, hitting him in the shoulder to get him to put her down. Sherlock set her on the floor but didn't let go of her.
"You," he replied, then rolled his eyes when she gave him a perplexed look. "You. You're perfect. You're submissive, I'm controlling, the sex is great. We should do this regularly."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, besides the fact that you know WAY too much about me," she said, poking him in his chest with a single finger accusingly. "I'm not looking for a relationship, we don't even know each other, and I've got my studies, and-" He cut her off.
"Am I good fuck?" he asked.
"Well," she began and he cut her off again.
"Answer me, yes or no. Am. I. A. Good. Fuck?" He enunciated the k at the end, cracking it loudly.
"Y-yes," she stuttered, blushing.
"Well then why don't we just keep doing this? Neither of us have to worry about trying to pull from a bar and possibly getting shitty sex, we can have set times to meet, boundaries, all of that, and we don't have to worry about feelings getting in the way. It's just sex."
He looked like a puppy, giving her big eyes and a pouty lip, and against her better judgment, Molly didn't tell him off immediately. "Are you suggesting a Dom-Sub relationship?" she asked slowly, her eyes lighting up with interest.
He looked surprised. "Well no, I was just thinking of casual sex but that," he paused and took in a deep breath, his eyes darkening as Molly chewed her lower lip. "That sounds good too," he choked out, licking his lips in an unconscious mimicry of her actions.
She grinned impishly at him and Sherlock found himself jealous suddenly.
"Have you done this before?"
She shook her head no, looking a bit affronted and the pressure in his chest relieved the slightest bit.
"Nope," she said, popping the p as he had done before. "But the basics can't be that difficult to grasp."
He nodded pensively. "I suppose not. I have to say, that sounds… interesting."
"So what," she replied with a bright smile and shrug of her shoulders. "We just pick a time to meet?"
"I guess so," he said, running a hand through his dark curls. "Is this Saturday evening good for you?"
"Umm yeah I think so," Molly replied after thinking. "I should be free."
"Okay then, seven, my place. Give me your number and I'll text you my address and you can tell me any stipulations you have for our interactions."
"Oh, I don't have a cell phone," she answered quickly, somewhat embarrassed. She knew that a lot of her friends had them, but Molly's family couldn't afford it and she'd learned to get by without.
"Well, we'll have to do something about that," Sherlock murmured, and reached into his back pocket, producing his wallet, from which his fished out a small piece of paper and scribbled down his address with a pen he had tucked away somewhere. "Here, there's my address... I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered under his breath and she smiled.
"Stop your groaning Sherlock, this'll be fun," she said, mocking his earlier words.
She rolled her eyes at him and turned to walk away but he caught her hand and pulled her back, sinking his fingers into her hair and pulling her head back to give her a passionate kiss. There was no way he was letting her leave with the upper hand, especially not if he was going to, what, be her dom? No way in hell he was letting her get away with that.
"Something to think about," he said, winking at her before pushing past her, leaving her standing there alone.