Temptation waits, by chibiness87
Rating: M. Soft M, but definitely M.
Spoilers: Nothing explicit. Hints at end of s4.
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh*
A/N: In my head this takes place after season 4. It was supposed to be a sweet, innocent little segment of a story I'm working on. It morphed into this. It is neither very sweet, nor exactly innocent. Oh dear.
You come on like a drug
I just can't get enough
I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more
And there's so much at stake
I can't afford to waste
I've never needed anybody like this before
Temptation waits - Garbage
Sherlock hears the sound of footfall nearing the office door mere seconds before it creaks open. He has managed to sneak in, Molly with him for a change, to search through his brother's office at the club to make sure there are no other family secrets he should know about. He has, after all, already searched his brother's home office alone and come up empty. While he knows he could search this office alone, he has been trying to keep Molly involved as much as possible. He doesn't want there to be any secrets between them. Not now. Not after everything. And especially not about this. But still, that does not mean he wants their activities of breaking in and raiding his brother's office being mentioned at the club's next AGM. So when he hears the approaching footsteps, he stills. By the time they have reached the door, he has had enough time to hastily shut the drawer he had been searching through, cross the room to where Molly had been searching through the sideboard, and pull her into his arms. She lets out a soft huff at the move, but then does not make any further sound.
Which, he acknowledges, may have something to do with the fact he is currently preventing her from making any further sound in the most delicious possible way. One hand snakes into her hair, as the other pushes against her lower back, and his lips descend on hers with intent.
He backs up a pace, bringing her with him, before turning them both, and pressing her against the wall. His hand comes up to hold her waist, flirting up to the swell of her breast, the other still entangled in her hair. Titling his head slightly, he runs his tongue across the seam of her lips, on autopilot now. She parts them after only a moment's hesitation, and then he is plundering her mouth like there is no tomorrow. Drawing her tongue into a battle of wills, he lets her chase his to his own mouth and then back again, while pressing his ever growing erection against the soft mound of her stomach.
She lets out a soft moan at that, her own hand now coming up to tangle in his hair. He is helpless to do anything but return her groan, thrusting sharply against her hip, searching for friction. Hardly drawing a breath, oxygen depleting but still present, he presses her more firmly against him. She, for her part, tilts her pelvis just so, and then he feels one of her legs slip between his own, searching for her own relief.
The sound of movement from behind him stops in the doorway, before the steps retreat, the door snicking closed behind the unwanted interruption. The sound of barley contained laughter follows the sound of feet as they move away. He knows he should be embarrassed. Knows, without a doubt, that the owners of those footsteps are hurrying, even now, to inform his brother of his intrusion into what is supposed to be a secure place.
But instead, Sherlock keeps his mouth pressed against Molly's for a moment longer, committing her taste to memory. Finally breaking away, he turns, straightening out his jacket and cuffs, trying desperately to get himself back under control. Taking deep breaths, he wills his heart rate to slow. Kissing Molly was only supposed to be a diversion. It was supposed to hide their true intentions of being in this particular office in the first place. It was supposed to protect her, him, them.
It was not supposed to turn him into a hormonal mess.
He chances a glance behind him, and is immediately doused in another wave of what can only be described as intense arousal, bordering on need. Molly is leaning against the wall, face flushed, eyes sparking, and he wants nothing more than to return to her and kiss her again. Forget searching, forget family secrets. Forget everything that isn't the feel of her pressed up against him as he drowns in her. It is a dangerous thought. One that he cannot allow. Not here. Especially not like this.
Sherlock runs his hand through his hair, only making it more disheveled, before he runs the other over his mouth, frowning when his hand comes away stained the same colour as her lip gloss. Another quick look at her thoroughly debouched form, even if he does say so himself, and he knows he is now wearing more of the bright pick hue than she is. It tastes faintly of cherry, he notes, and has to fight down the desire to taste it again. He has, after all, always had a weakness for cherry.
Instead of telling her any of this, however, what comes out of his mouth is a soft, "Sorry."
She glances up at him for a second, eyes still glazed with desire. "Huh?"
He waves a hand at the once again closed door. "Needed a distraction."
"Oh." Molly looks down. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and he blinks, squashing the desire to stride back across the room to her and take it in to his own mouth once again.
"What?" The word comes out harsher than he means it to, but he is still reeling from all the feelings running though his veins, he has little control left. She is more potent than the last hit of heroin he had, and he is currently deciding whether replacing that particular vice with this one is going to be better for him in the long run or not.
"Well. I mean… It's just…" She still has yet to meet his eye, and he finally notices where her gaze is fixed, and what has her attention so captivated.
It is, even he has to admit to himself, still quite an impressive sight. But then he remembers that he is supposed to be calming down, and the way she is looking at him like she wants to devour him really isn't helping in that matter. He huffs. "Oh for god's sake Molly. It's just biology."
"Is that what people are calling it these days?" He sees the tip of her tongue flick over her lips, and it takes everything in him not to growl at the sight. He is sure he has lost yet more blood to his dick, the incessant throb there getting stronger. He needs to get away. Needs to get back in control. Needs a cold, cold shower.
He needs Molly, riding his cock, hard and deep, head thrown back in ecstasy and gasping his name as she falls apart around him, her internal muscles clenching around him and drawing out his own pleasure until his brain shuts down for one glorious- Stop it.
Something must show on his face, because she is across the room, and, in the boldest move he has ever known her to make, caresses him through his trousers. He catches her wrist in his own, meaning to pull it away, but instead only manages to press her small hand harder against him, the image of her still playing full screen in his mind. He lets out a grunt at the move, and she smiles wickedly at him.
His grip softens around her wrist, and he is rewarded with another firm press against his dick. Sherlock blinks his eyes open, unsure when they fell closed, his own lip now caught between his teeth. "Molly…"
She smiles at his whimper, pressing more firmly against his aching cock. Her hand strokes upwards, gently tracing the outline of his prick, giving a slight squeeze as she does so. It is all he can do to stay upright at this point, and his head falls down to her shoulder, gasping. "Please."
He doesn't know what it is he is pleading for. Doesn't know if he wants her to stop or keep going. She is and always has been his biggest strength and his greatest weakness, and he doesn't know how to process this new side of her.
He's just decided he wants to throw her to the desk and fuck her right here, damn being caught by Mycroft or his goons, when she stops. Releases him. Steps back.
He blinks owlishly at her. "What?"
But Molly just gives him a smirk. "Our first time is not going to be against the desk of your brother's office."
He blinks, their location finally registering in his brain again. With a slight growl, he grabs her hand. Pressing a firm kiss to her palm, he gasps, "Come home with me. Stay the night. Stay every night."
"Sherlock?" Her eyes are wide, shock evident now in her gaze.
He brings their joint hands to cup his hardness once more. With a deep, guttural moan, he grunts, "I only ever get this hard for you, Molly. Because of you."
She is shy again, the temptress from before hidden away. "I…"
"Please. Let me take you home." The words are whispered desperately in her ear, and he feels her breath hitch.
"Ok."
He grins. Pulling his hand away from hers, he cannot help the soft moan when she moves away from his cock. He pulls her with him to the doorway, only to be stopped by her hand tugging on his sleeve. "What?"
"Every night?" she asks, biting her lip once more.
Sherlock nods. Swooping down, he gives in to his desire and sucks her lower lip into his mouth once more. After what could be seconds or hours, he pulls back. "And all the ones that follow."
Molly smiles. He grins, pecking her on the cheek in the spot he claimed years ago as his own. Grabbing her hand in his once more, they leave.
A/N 2: Um, yeah. It's been a little while since I wrote anything close to smut. Would love to know what you guys think.