The Advantages of Belonging

by akamww3

Now married and parents to a son, Mycroft Holmes and Molly Hooper (Holmes) have already learned the advantages of caring, but experiencing the advantages of belonging will provide a continuing education for them ...

1. Today - It's Today Isn't It

[Author's Note: The "Belonging" series continues the story of Mycroft and Molly as set forth in "The Advantages of Caring." This first installment commences just after the last "Caring" chapter.]

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Summary: An anniversary, a reconnection, that first time feeling all over again ...

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At eleven o'clock on that last Monday morning in June, Mycroft Holmes pulled his phone out of his pocket and settled back in his desk chair, frowning when he saw the name on the screen. "Andrew?" His brows rose. "She what?" He sat straighter, checked the time and used his free hand to pull up his diary. "Right." His brow creased as he rang off. And her co-conspirator would be …

Mycroft looked up when Anthea opened the door in response to his summons. "Sir?"

"Were you aware that Molly planned to make a surprise visit today?" When Anthea hesitated, silently drumming her fingers on the door's edge, Mycroft flicked a hand toward a chair. Once she'd settled across from him, he raised a brow.

"I arranged access for Molly through the back entrance, sir. It wasn't originally supposed to be today," she said slowly, then quickly continued when he raised a brow. "She wanted to come in last Wednesday, but you –"

"Had to go to Athens unexpectedly, yes." Mycroft sat back and picked up his pen, turning it between his fingers. "Tell Henderson you'll call him by noon either to confirm our lunch meeting or to reschedule him for three o'clock."

Anthea got to her feet. "Are you going to ask Molly to lunch, sir?"

"Mmm."

"You have to celebrate your anniversary," she said, smiling. "Tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Mmm," he hummed again, pursing his lips as he aligned his pen just so along the edge of his laptop and pulled up the CCTV feed for the rear gate. "One of them," he murmured as the door closed behind Anthea. He then picked up the file he'd been reading when Andrew called and focused on work while waiting to be surprised by his wife.

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When Mrs. Collingwood pulled to a stop at the gates set in a high stone wall, she wasn't alarmed when armed guards appeared on either side of the car. She lowered the window and was prepared to be questioned, but both men simply ducked their heads to peer through the windows toward the backseat. As the housekeeper handed her photo I.D. to the nearest guard, Molly rolled the back window down and the other man bent to her level.

"Good morning, Mrs. Holmes," he said in a clipped military tone.

"Good morning," Molly said, smiling as she reached for her handbag. "Let me get my I.D. for you …"

He glanced at it and returned the card to her. "Thank you, Mrs. Holmes. Your driver is cleared to park near the entrance."

Molly noticed that his eyes went past her to the infant carrier before returning to meet her gaze, and she thought he looked a bit more wide-eyed. She heard the other guard tell Mrs. Collingwood the same thing before he stepped back. Molly waved as the gates opened and they went into the inner courtyard and followed the circular drive. She didn't notice - but wouldn't have been surprised to see - Andrew pass through the checkpoint a few moments later and park near the gates. Molly never raised the issue of her assigned shadow and did her best not to think about the need for him.

Mrs. Collingwood was going to stay in the car with Michael since Molly planned a quick in and out visit. She'd nursed the baby just before they left the house so he could be expected to sleep for another hour or two under normal circumstances. Molly got out of the car and Mrs. Collingwood took her place by Michael's car seat.

"How do I look?"

"Edible," the housekeeper said with a wicked smile.

"Mrs. C," Molly groaned, then rolled her eyes. "What's in those boxes is for sure. All right, I won't be long."

Mrs. Collingwood watched the younger woman smooth her hair and hitch the strap of her handbag higher on her shoulder before reaching for the two small white boxes, each tied with a satin ribbon and bearing a gold-leafed label from one of London's finest patisseries. Molly was wearing an above-the-knee, empire-waist, scoop-necked dress in a red and white floral print that, while modest, was extremely flattering to her postpartum figure, Mrs. Collingwood thought, smiling to herself as she imagined Mycroft's likely reaction, however much he might outwardly suppress it.

Molly was greeted by another pair of armed guards at the back entrance. They eyed the two boxes but didn't take them from her, which Molly knew said a great deal about Anthea's power to authorize access. They let her pass into the building and then Anthea herself was there to escort Molly to Mycroft's office.

As they walked down the corridor, Anthea ran her eyes from Molly's red heels to the top of her head. "You certainly dressed to impress today and succeeded, Molly."

Molly gave Anthea a significant look. "But will he notice? I'd rather he didn't realize how much extra effort this took." Molly rolled her eyes. "Just getting my hair into this supposedly casual half up-do took at least fifteen minutes and then it almost came completely down when Michael's fingers got caught here." She pointed at the hair over one ear.

"What's in the boxes? Or is it a secret -"

"No … here, this is yours," Molly said, passing one of the boxes to Anthea. "Forgive me, but I got you one of those amazing brownies we discovered in April."

"I hate you, Molly."

Molly just laughed. "I couldn't bring Mycroft a brownie and leave you out. I had one earlier, and they're still worth all the extra calories that have to be worked off later." She paused for a moment. "Of course, I'm allowed extra calories these days, what with the breastfeeding and all …"

"Just keep talking, Molly, and I really will hate you." Anthea let them into the office, then stood aside and waved Molly on with a flourish.

Molly gave an Anthea-like tap on Mycroft's door, then opened it and went through. He was turned away, focused on his laptop, and didn't look up until Molly set the bakery box in the middle of his desk. His head turned and he stared at the box for a moment before raising his eyes to hers.

"Molly," he said, quickly getting to his feet and coming around his desk. He gave her a brief kiss, then took her hands and looked at her carefully. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to bring you a treat." Mycroft let go of her hands and stepped back to rest a hip on his desk as he reached for the box she was offering him. Molly sat in the nearest chair and watched him untie the bow and open the flaps. "Mrs. C and I hadn't been away from the house for some days – not since my doctor's appointment last week," she said as an aside while slowly crossing her legs with a swish of silk stockings, "so we went to that Marylebone patisserie for morning tea." Mycroft had lifted the box toward his nose. "Those brownies taste even more delicious than they smell, and have the calories to match, but sometimes we all need a special treat. That chocolate cream cheese icing is to die for." She huffed a laugh when Mycroft looked up. "Oops! Wrong place to joke about that."

"Thank you, my dear. I'm sure I'll enjoy it."

"And do not feel guilty for eating it, Mycroft. You rarely allow yourself to have such treats, so try to enjoy it whole-heartedly for once." Molly uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way, then gave a blissful sigh as she made a circle with her foot. "Feel free to indulge your senses." Re-crossing her legs had caused Molly's skirt to ride up her thigh, exposing a bit of the lace at the top of her hold-ups. When Mycroft's eyes dropped to that slowly twirling red heel and moved up her stockinged leg from ankle to thigh, Molly thought she might have gone too far to be subtle, so she nonchalantly flattened her hand on her skirt and slid it back toward her knee. Or at least in that general direction.

Mycroft's eyes met hers and Molly bit the insides of both cheeks, trying to suppress any outward reaction to the change in his expression. "Well," she said more briskly while slowly bending to retrieve her handbag from the floor by her feet. "I should let you get back to work. Mrs. C is waiting in the car. Michael, too, but he's asleep." Oh, you brazen hussy, she thought as she rose to her feet, knowing her bending forward would have given Mycroft quite an eyeful of her cleavage, assuming he was looking. She hoped he didn't realize she'd put the handbag on the floor for that very purpose – and that he'd attribute her heightened color to having been bent over. "I'll, um, see you later then."

Mycroft closed the box and set it on his desk, then straightened and took the step that brought him within Molly's personal space. He bent to kiss her cheek and then held her gaze while their faces were level. "I was going to ask you to lunch, my dear. We could take Michael with us and send Mrs. C home with the car."

"Thank you for the invitation, but I should get Michael home and let you keep to your schedule, assuming I haven't messed it up too badly. I didn't intend to disrupt your day."

"Not at all," he said, straightening. "Let me at least walk you out." Molly preceded Mycroft through the door and he paused to tell Anthea he would be keeping his appointment as previously scheduled.

"I'll take care of it, sir," Anthea said, then smiled at Molly. "Thanks for the brownie."

"You're welcome – and I expect you to enjoy it, Anthea."

Mycroft kept his hand on the small of Molly's back as they followed the corridor to the back exit, but he stopped and dropped his hand when a familiar voice called from behind them.

"Molly?"

"Hello, Elizabeth," Molly replied when Lady Smallwood reached them. "It's good to see you again."

"You look lovelier than ever, my dear," Lady Smallwood said, kissing Molly's cheeks continental style. "Having a baby obviously agrees with you." She took Molly's hand and looked over her head at Mycroft. "You both seem to be surviving the stress of having a newborn in the house."

"Molly's done all the heavy lifting," he said.

"Don't listen to him. Mycroft's been a tremendous help," Molly assured her, then looked uncertain. "Um, Michael's just outside in the car. Would you like to –"

Lady Smallwood's "I'd love to" was almost drowned out by Mycroft's "I doubt Elizabeth has time to …" He gave them a bow of his head and smiled wryly. "My mistake."

Once they went through security and out to the car, Molly introduced Mrs. Collingwood, who got out to let Lady Smallwood take her place in the back seat. Molly ducked her head in the car to chat while the older woman appropriately oohed and aahed over Michael, who slept through it all.

Mycroft leaned against the car, arms folded and ankles crossed, aware that the guards at the building and gate were on alert, weapons held at the ready, as he stood in the relatively open space talking to Mrs. Collingwood while the other two women visited in the back seat. His cool gaze wandered over the exterior of the building as he considered just how many eyes might be watching them from behind all those rows of reflective glass. He'd never imagined being part of such a scene that would likely elicit curiosity about his personal life. He straightened when Lady Smallwood got out of the car and came to stand in front of him.

"Michael's a fine looking boy, Mycroft. You must be proud."

"I'm pleased that he's healthy and progressing well."

Lady Smallwood allowed herself a not-quite-ladylike snort. "You can admit to feeling proud, Mycroft. The Earth won't tilt further on its axis."

Mycroft smiled briefly, then went to say goodbye to Molly, who'd already settled in the back seat. "I'll see you this evening," he said, bending down to her level. "At a reasonable hour, I hope."

"All right, darling," she said softly, aware of others' ears not too far away, and then buckled her seatbelt when he closed the door.

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Anthea looked up when Mycroft's door opened just before two o'clock and he stepped into the opening. "Would you ask if the Home Secretary can see me now and, if so, change my four o'clock to half past three and move anything else to tomorrow. The other meetings aren't particularly time-sensitive, but let me know if anyone balks at the delay."

"Certainly, sir," Anthea said, picking up the phone. Two minutes later, she went to Mycroft's door to let him know the Home Secretary was expecting him.

Just over two hours later, Mycroft came out of his office after his last meeting, carrying his umbrella and briefcase, and stopped at Anthea's desk. "I'm leaving, Anthea, and suggest you do the same. If anything comes up that needs one or both of us to respond, they'll find us."

Anthea stared at Mycroft, shocked but trying to hide it, then abruptly turned away to shut down her computer and grab her handbag from a drawer. She glanced around, trying to think of anything she needed to do, then picked up her phone, preceded her boss out the door and waited while he locked up. As they walked across the front lobby, Anthea glanced sideways at Mycroft and he caught her at it.

"Don't expect to leave at half past four again this decade, Anthea," he said, with a brief smile. "It just so happens that while all's not quiet in the world, there's at least a certain consistency to the current crises, and you and I have both put in some very long days this last week. So enjoy your evening, and I'll see you in the morning."

Anthea was surprised to find two cars idling by the pavement. She watched as Mycroft got into the one being driven by Andrew, then she greeted Walter and they headed in the opposite direction toward her flat.

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Mycroft stopped outside their open bedroom door, struck by Molly's unconscious allure. The top of her dressing gown had slipped down her arms, baring her shoulders, and the bottom half was open, sides hanging off the chaise longue, exposing her bare legs - one straightened, the other's knee drawn up. A silky slip was bunched at the top of her thighs and he could see the lacy edge of her knickers. Mycroft wasn't prone to being aroused by visual stimuli, but he felt his heart rate increase and his groin tighten and willed himself to calm down.

Molly shifted and it was as if he was observing an artist's presentation of contrasting tableaux – one exquisitely sensual and obviously unintentional on Molly's part, and the other sweetly maternal with mother and child aware of nothing but each other … Michael at Molly's breast, focused on her downturned face. At that moment, she glanced up and started, eyes opening wide. "I wasn't expecting you home so early," she said, then looked down and flushed while pulling the sides of her dressing gown together.

"If the woman I love has a mind to seduce me," he finally said as he started across the room, "I thought it behooved me to do my utmost to cooperate."

Molly felt the flush spread down her chest. She slowly raised her eyes, which widened further as they passed over his middle, then quickly shifted higher to meet his. She opened her lips to speak but what came out sounded something like "guh." Mycroft laughed under his breath, then bent to kiss Molly's forehead, stooped further to kiss Michael's cheek, and finally, after a moment's pause, kissed her breast just above where the baby was nursing. "Mycroft," she breathed shakily and grasped the hem of his jacket. "You're killing me."

"Certainly not," he said as he lowered himself to the edge of the chaise longue. "We have a date if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh god," she said, closing her eyes and dropping her head against the backrest. He took advantage of her change of position and leaned forward to kiss her clavicle before dragging his mouth up her throat and along her jaw. "The baby -," she gasped.

"Is paying no attention and wouldn't understand or remember anything if he were," he murmured, then feathered his lips back down her throat and gently nipped the muscle at the crook of her neck. He lifted his head when she moaned and studied her face, waiting for her to look at him, then moved in for a kiss, taking it deep when she opened her lips. Molly's free hand lifted to the back of his head to press him closer as they explored each other's mouths.

Molly pulled back when she felt cool air on her exposed nipple and realized Michael had detached and fallen asleep. She slid her fingers out of Mycroft's hair, laid a cloth nappy across her upper chest, and shifted the baby until his head was on her shoulder. Her eyes finally lifted to Mycroft's as she gently patted Michael's back. "This isn't fair. You've caught me unprepared," she said. "I had plans. It was going to be perfect."

"I can't imagine what more preparation you think you need, my love," he said, lips quirked. "I could hardly be more ready to make love to you than I am right now."

Molly dropped her eyes and had to clear her throat. "You're seducing me again, Mycroft, and it's making me feel like the first time."

"Which was two years ago today," he said, not denying her accusation as he got to his feet. "At least we're in the right place for it now. You used your seductive wiles on me at the office."

"I never touched you," Molly scoffed, but her lips curved when she looked up at him.

"No, you didn't touch me," he said slowly, holding her gaze until she began to flush. "Shall I take him?"

Molly looked confused for a moment at the abrupt change of subject, then lowered her eyes to Michael. "He probably needs changing," she said as Mycroft took the baby from her.

"I'll see to him," he said, straightening.

As soon as they left the room, Molly jumped up and ran across the bedroom to her dressing room, grabbed the lingerie she wanted from a chest of drawers, and hurried into the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, trying to slow her breathing and heart rate. Calm down, be cool. She quickly stripped and was in and out of the shower in three minutes. A quick rubdown with a towel, favorite moisturizer applied, then she bent to pull on a new lacy, demi-cup nursing bra and tap pants that were more lace than silk, both in a pale raspberry. She turned sideways and frowned at the mirror, popping the elastic waist of the tap pants. They covered most of her stomach below her navel, but she could still see her little pooch. She sighed, then shrugged into a new dressing gown – raspberry, ivory and lilac – and grabbed her brush to smooth her hair.

She looked at herself in the mirror straight on and breathed slowly. She still felt flustered by Mycroft's unexpected arrival as she'd planned for them to have a nice dinner and spend some time talking before going to bed at a reasonably early time. She looked at her bare feet and considered putting on her fluffy feather slippers, but felt wobbly enough without adding a stiletto heel to the mix. Besides, she suspected Mycroft thought her mules looked silly no matter how sexy they might make her feel.

Molly came out of her dressing room and stopped short when her eyes met Mycroft's. He was standing outside his dressing room, jacket folded over his arm, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. After a moment, he tossed both of them on a chair and started across the room, his gaze unwavering. Molly's knees weakened just as his arms snaked around her waist and he drew her into a hard embrace, lips firm and demanding. He pulled back, breath quick and shallow. "We have to slow down."

"No," she protested, moaning when he claimed her lips again, delving deep, then made her shiver when he slid the tip of his tongue over the roof of her mouth. Her fingers dug into his shoulders when he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. "Wait," she said when he lowered her to her feet. "Um, we'll probably need to use, um –"

"A condom?"

"No!"

"A lubricant?" When Molly blushed, he ran a finger down her nose and tapped her chin. "It's a pretty fair exchange, don't you think? That change in your hormones from breastfeeding also helps prevent another pregnancy." He reached into his trouser pocket and drew out a tube that was familiar to Molly since she'd hidden an identical one under her pillow earlier that afternoon.

Molly raised her eyes to Mycroft's again and he began to unbutton his shirt. When it hung open, she stepped closer, curved her hands around his neck and lifted onto her toes to kiss him, then pulled back and met his eyes. She ran her hands down the sides of his throat, rubbed her fingertips over and around the tight nubs of his nipples, and ruffled his chest hair, tracing the growth pattern with her fingers as it tapered down his torso to a narrow line that continued beneath his trousers. When her head turned downward, he ran his fingers through her hair, and they both watched her undo his belt and carefully lower his zipper. His breathing rate increased and she heard him swallow when she slipped her hand into the open fly of his trousers, pushed his pants out of the way, and encircled his hot, hard length with her fingers. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms to lift her higher against him and claimed her mouth again, and Molly met his demand with her own, clutching his shoulder with her free hand as she stroked him firmly from root to tip and back again with the other. When Mycroft's hands slid down her back, slipped under her knickers and curved under her bottom, Molly thought her knees would buckle, but when he slid his hands around her hips and toward her stomach, she twisted away, pulling her hand out of his trousers and sitting on the side of the bed. She glanced at his face then quickly lowered her eyes at his confused look and reached to grip the sides of his waist and tug him toward her. When she hooked her fingers under the top of his trousers and started to push them down, he covered her hands with his.

"Hold on," he said. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," she said, glancing up with a quick smile. "Let go of my hands." Instead he took a firmer grip and spread their clasped hands wide as he ran his eyes down her torso. "Mycroft," she protested.

"Just a minute," he said, head tilting as he studied her, then he shook his head slowly after several moments and sighed. "Molly …" He lowered their hands, then let go of hers and shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor. He toed his shoes off and bent to pull off his socks, before straightening again. He held his hands out, palms up, and waited for Molly to place her palms against his, which she did after hesitating for a few moments. He then pulled her to her feet. "Let's try this again," he said, slipping his hands under the waist of her tap pants. She shied away when his hands moved toward the front. "Ah." Molly flushed when their eyes met and Mycroft sighed. "I'm sure it sounds unsuitably patronizing for me to say this, my darling Molly, but I find your little tummy quite irresistible." She lowered her gaze shyly, but did huff a soft laugh, so he tried again. He felt her stomach muscles tighten, but she didn't flinch when he cupped a hand over the soft remnant of her pregnancy bump. She sighed and rested her forehead against his chest as his fingers lightly stroked her belly, but her muscles tightened again and she gripped the sides of his hips when his fingers edged lower.

Molly tilted her head back in surprise when Mycroft abruptly removed his hand and stepped away from her, then she flushed when he pulled the tube out of his pocket, shoved his trousers and pants down his legs, and stepped out of them. Molly's eyes lowered to his hands as he flipped the cap open and applied the contents to his fingers. When his hand started moving toward his cock, she held her hand out, "Let me, please."

Mycroft handed her the tube and Molly met his eyes, aware that her face was probably bright red, but she held his gaze as she squeezed lube onto her palm, tossed the tube toward the bed and took him in her hand, wrapped her fingers around him and slicked him down from root to tip. His breathing deepened and he stiffened further, then he suddenly grunted and wrapped his fingers around her wrist before gently but firmly pulling her hand away from him. "Too much."

He brushed past her and sat on the side of the bed, then hooked his fingers in the waist of her tap pants and raised his brows. When Molly nodded, he slid them over her hips and let them fall to the floor. When she kicked them aside, he pulled her closer and lifted her onto his lap, slipping a hand between her knees and running it along her inner thighs as he began kissing her. She slid her arms around his neck and moaned when he curved his palm between her legs, gently separating her folds with slick fingers and probing more deeply with one finger, then two. Molly parted her legs further and pressed up against his hand, suddenly feeling desperate for more, and she put that desperation into her kiss, rubbing her tongue more urgently along his, until she broke away, panting. "Now, Mycroft … please."

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his breathing quick and shallow, and the danger suppressed in that look sent a sizzling jolt straight to her core. She stared back, wide-eyed, feeling both thrilled and helpless as he seemed to loom over her, then gasped when he pulled his hand away, slipped it under her knees and rose to his feet before swinging her around and lowering her to the bed. He crawled over her on all fours and stretched out beside her before sliding his arm under her back and lifting her to lie across his chest. "You need to be on top so you can control the depth and pace," he said calmly, at odds with the heated expression in his eyes and the hammering of his heart.

Molly braced herself on her forearms and pushed herself up. "No, I want to feel your weight on me," she said, then licked a stripe over the nub of his left nipple. "You don't have to be so careful." She slowly smiled and raised her brows when he continued to stare at her. "Come on, Mycr-" Molly gasped when he wrapped his hands around her head and almost slammed their mouths together, then moaned when he rubbed his tongue along hers and they began to thrust and parry in a deliciously decadent duel. They finally broke away to breathe, and he shifted and then rolled them until she was stretched out under him. He raised up on his knees, slid his hand between her legs to check her readiness, then smiled when she drew her knees up and let them fall open. He withdrew his hand, positioned himself carefully, and slid slowly into her, not stopping until he reached the hilt, then carefully stretched his legs out. Molly wrapped her legs around his hips, and they lay there pressed against each other for some time, Mycroft's quick breaths against her throat causing shivers to ripple through her and Molly's low gasps tickling his ear. She eventually slid one foot higher on his back and tilted her hips to a more comfortable angle. Mycroft lifted himself onto his arms and slowly withdrew, studying her face as he thrust deep, then slid away, then pushed into her again. When she showed no sign of discomfort, he began to thrust at a slow, steady pace, still watching Molly to deduce her reactions.

Molly finally had enough of that and huffed loudly as she pushed against his shoulders. "Stop!" He did stop and held himself above her on straightened arms, which pressed him more deeply into her. The pleasure of it made Molly shudder. "Mycroft … I love you," she said, somewhat breathlessly, "and I love that you're trying to take care of me by being careful, but, for god's sake, would you please just let go?" She sighed again as he slowly withdrew ... "you're driving me mad -" … and screamed when he drove into her to the hilt, pulled almost all the way out, then forcefully drove into her again, quickening to a pounding rhythm, his flesh audibly slapping against hers. She pressed her heels against his hips, writhing against him as she raised herself into his thrusts, grunting from the effort, then suddenly clutched at his shoulders when he abruptly stopped again, his pelvis pressing hard against hers, and … "Wha - oh, no, Mycroft …" He'd run his palms along her sides and under her back and the next thing she knew he'd released her bra, maneuvered it off of her, and bent his head to her breasts. "You really don't want to do that –" Before she could stop him, he'd licked across one nipple and gently pinched the other between his finger and thumb, and the inevitable occurred. Molly let go of his shoulders and dropped her head on the pillow, laughing breathlessly when Mycroft raised his head with a jerk and stared at her as her milk let down and started leaking down her torso. "And that's why the nursing bra needs to stay on," she said drily, pointing a shaking finger toward the bedside table. "Hand me that towel, please." Her breath caught when he pulled out of her, and she released a long exasperated sigh as he crawled across the bed. "This better not turn you off, Mister Holmes, or you're going to have a very frustrated wife to deal with."

He crawled back and bent over her, gently wiping her torso, until she took the towel from him and pressed it hard against her breasts. "Pressure helps stop the flow," she said. When Mycroft carefully pried her hand away from one breast and folded the towel back, she half sat, shocked at what immediately went through her mind. "What are you doing?" She caught her breath and held it when he lowered his head and took her nipple between his lips, then opened his mouth wide enough to cover her areola. "Mycroft?" His eyes lifted to hers, asking a question, and she closed hers with a nod, not sure if it was the hottest thing Mycroft had ever done to her or if it was a bit pervy. Maybe both, but Mycroft didn't do pervy. Molly dropped her head back on the pillow and kept her eyes closed. She knew he could feel her heart pounding while he did what he did, but he raised his head after just a few moments.

"It tastes sweeter than I expected," he said, covering her breast again with the towel and then firmly pressing his palm against it. His head tilted as he studied her face for several silent moments. "Molly?" She opened her eyes and met his gaze, still saying nothing. "Have I now put you off?"

Molly sighed and lifted a hand to cup his cheek. "No, very much to the contrary, but …," she came to an awkward halt, brow creased.

"But nothing," he said, easily following her train of thought. "There's nothing wrong with my tasting your milk. I was curious." He paused, then raised a brow. "Weren't you? Haven't you tasted it?"

Molly flushed. "Well, yes, I did taste it after my real milk first came in. Despite thousands and thousands of years of women nursing their babies, I still found it difficult to believe that my body could actually produce milk, seemingly out of the blue. So, yes, I was curious … and surprised that it actually tastes like milk." Her eyes met his hesitantly, but after a few moments they smiled at each other, then Molly's grin widened. "So, do you want to taste it again?"

"Not right now," he said, lips quirking. "But thank you." He leaned over to kiss her, gently at first, then briefly delving deeper when her lips parted. "Are you ready to continue?"

"You're still in the mood?" She gasped when he took her hand and pressed it against him. "Oh, um, yes," she murmured, wrapping her fingers around his erection, "me, too."

Even so, Mycroft ran a hand down the center of her body and cupped her with his hand, fingers gently probing, before he shifted between her thighs, slid his hands under her bottom and tilted her hips to rest on his knees. He carefully aligned himself and pressed forward until he was fully seated within her, then slowly pulled back before pressing forward again and moving into a steady rhythm. After several minutes, he braced his hands against the mattress on either side of her shoulders and added more force to his thrusts, lifting higher into her, and eventually slid his hand between them, catching sensitive flesh between his fingers and gently rolling and tugging until Molly suddenly clenched around him, her torso heaving as she arched her head back and moaned loudly, gasping for breath. Mycroft pulled his hand free and planted both hands on the mattress again, grunting as he drove deep, then thrust again, then again, and groaned from his gut with the next thrust, feeling as if the top of his head was going to split as an orgasm jolted through him and he erupted, pouring himself into her, muscles quivering from the aftershocks. He was breathing raggedly and ready to collapse, but kept holding most of his weight off of Molly until she wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled. He finally lowered himself onto her and rested his head alongside hers on her pillow while their breathing and heart rates gradually returned to normal.

Molly felt him slip out of her as she straightened her legs and slid her hands down his back to rest on either side of his waist. She didn't want to let him go, but her skin eventually started to itch as what had been wet started to dry. "I need a shower," she said, sleepily kissing his cheek.

He straightened his arms and lifted off of her with an audible sucking sound as their flesh separated. He looked from his chest to her breasts. "We both need a shower." Mycroft's eyes met Molly's and she, as expected, flushed. His lips quirked and he gave her a quick kiss before pushing back onto his knees and moving to the side of the bed. He groaned when he stood, bending backward as he pressed his fists into the small of his back, then finally reached for the baby monitor. "Come on, then." He waited while Molly shifted to the side of the bed and then snorted a laugh when she echoed his groan. "I'll give you a rubdown if you'll return the favor."

"You're on," she said, slinging her arm around his waist as they headed for his bathroom on somewhat shaky legs.

When they finished their shower and returned to the bedroom in their dressing gowns, Molly set the monitor on the bedside table and checked the time on her phone. It was still a few minutes before seven and they'd heard no sounds from the monitor, but she decided to check on Michael anyway. Mycroft was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard when she returned. "Michael's still sound asleep," she said, crawling onto the bed to sit beside him. When Mycroft wrapped his arm around her back, she signed and leaned her head against his chest. "I didn't expect you to get home until seven at the earliest so I thought we'd be eating about half past or later." She lifted her head to look at him. "Do you want to wait or …"

"I'm certainly not hungry now," he said. "What about you?"

Molly shook her head, smiling. "Did you eat the brownie?"

"I did."

"And did you enjoy it?"

"I followed your instructions to the letter."

Molly huffed a laugh and nestled her head against his chest again. "Good."

They were quiet after that, and Molly started to feel drowsy enough that she jumped when Mycroft cleared his throat, which caused him to laugh under his breath. When she tilted her head back to frown at him, Mycroft dutifully straightened his face, then lifted his hand to cup her cheek and turn her face more fully to him. "Happy anniversary, Molly," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

"Do you mean today's or tomorrow's …," she murmured, returning his kiss.

"Today's – the sex anniversary," he clarified, lips quirking. "We'll celebrate the wedding anniversary tomorrow."

"Will there still be sex involved?"

"Very likely."

"Oh goody," Molly said, wrinkling her nose at him, then squealed when Mycroft suddenly pounced and rolled them over ... then over again … until they were stretched out along the opposite edge of the bed with Mycroft looking down at her.

"We could get a head start on it," he said, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck.

Molly wiggled under him, laughing. "But Michael will be waking up soon."

"Then we'll stop and start again later," he murmured against her throat, causing a quiver to run up her spine.

"I just hope Michael's timing is as good as his father's …"

"Shut up, my love, and kiss me."

"Yes sir, Mr. Holmes, sir – mppfft …"