Chapter 2

A/N: I apologize for its...length. I wanted to make it longer. I did. Really. But. This is the best I have. On a plus note chapter 3 is already in progress.
As for the ultimate pairing...you'll just have to wait and see. Even I dont know. I let the characters tell me.

Enjoy loverlies. Smut below.


She exits Bart's two hours later after her (could you even call that a conversation?) with Mycroft Holmes. She had been prepared to take off than and there and was ready to tell him as much but he held up a hand, and gestured to the body in front of her.

"I am nothing if not a patient man Miss Hooper. There will be a car outside for you when you get off. It would be unwise to not get in it."

And without another word he had left her and the former Mr. Sloane alone in the morgue.

Sure enough the car sat outside the building, a young woman was poised against the back door over the car, holding it open with her back. Her eyes never even bothering to look up from her blackberry as she spoke. " Get in."

She smelled like alpha and apples and Molly frowned despite herself. "Where's Mycroft?"

The woman paused her eyes drifting upwards to peer at her over her from her blackberry devise.

"You aren't going to make me say it again, are you?"

So she takes a seat inside the back of the car and scoots all the way to the far end to make room for the woman who might as well be infused with her blackberry. She looks like a female version of Mycroft- Molly thinks as she studies the expensive blouse and black pencil skirt..

She doesn't have long to wonder where are they going as the woman opens the door for her, and Molly see's they are in fact standing in her flat. She stares at the building wondering if there has been a mistake, but as she turns around to ask the car is already driving off.

'Odd' Molly thought, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the disappointment at bay.

So when she unlocks her flat and turns on the lights to reveal Mycroft Holmes sitting on her couch, she physically jumps despite herself.

"Don't tell me he got lock picking from you." She says the words stumbling ungracefully out of her mouth, her hand clutching her chest-

"Be still my beating heart" Mycroft mocks rolling his eyes at her inferior gesture. "Surely Miss Hooper even you should have been able to deduce that Id be here."

She lowers her hand slowly and studies the man before her, his expensive suit clashes against her terribly modest couch, and yet somehow, the man has seemed to make himself right at home.

"Your house smells very much like that of a Betas. But why?" He muses, inhailing deeply.

And Molly finds herself stumbling over herself embarrassingly. "Your brother actually...after the fall it became clear to me he would be here, and well, knowing Sherlock I knew no room or space would be off limits so..."

"And all this time, you keep your home like this just in case he should need to pop in. Your home is denied of the very essence of you, Miss Hooper. Its such a shame, you smell quite delectable too."

She takes a shaky step forward, and his eyes, glacier cold, send a silent warning in her direction. Though, Molly doesn't have the slightest what he is warning her from, and the omega in her dares her to find out.

Test him the little gland whispers in her hand. For all you know he's all talk- how do you know this alpha is even worthy?

So she steps forward.

He growls. It is low, and surprisingly clean, not at all guttural like you would imagine from an alpha. A low rumble that makes the hair of her arms stand on end. She swallows the panic and she pauses as she leans forwards just a bit, just one more step...

"I did not tell you to move."

And his voice comes out crisp and calm only frayed with suppressed anger. It is not at all alpha hormones but a controlled deliberate burn. Like dry ice, her conscious brain supplied. He is dry ice. He rises to a stand as most alphas do, towering over her as he makes a slow deliberate circle around her and panic swells in her chest and her thighs clench unconsciously, warmth pooling in her belly from just the small act of dominance alone.

"You will call me sir." He says slowly, deliberately. "Let me hear you."

An the deeper darker part of Molly doesn't even hesitate. This is exactly what she needs. Release. Whatever kind he is willing to give her. She needs it, she craves it, and even her conscious mind cant argue a reason not too. Make him happy.

"Yes sir."

The smile that creeps across his face is smug, and she finds it is a much better look on him than the sinister one he usually graces her with. He walks away from her, and because he does not call or gesture. She does not move, even though, she very, very much wants too.

He takes a seat back towards the middle of the couch, his eyes flickering towards her window.

"I have tentative things to discuss with you Miss Hooper. Your verbal agreement is all that is needed at this particular moment since you are a heartbeat from unraveling but most importantly, I like things, my way, as all Alphas do." His gaze turns to her now, eyes burning with something darker, much darker than lust.

"You must have a safe word. And you are only to use that safe word, should you be prepared for things to end completely."

"Yes sir." she says and it is just then that she notices that her leg is trembling subtly beneath her.

"I will choose your safe word." He continues. "Your safe word is Sherlock."

The sound of his name coming from Mycrofts lips is so deliciously painful she wants to sob. She takes an involuntary step backwards and Mycroft smiles so wide he exposes a row of perfectly white teeth.

"Is that acceptable Miss Hooper? Give it to me if it is. Your safe word."

He's doing this on purpose. She thinks, pain thrumming in her chest as she regains her footing before giving a solid nod. "Sherlock." she repeats even though her voice trembles with unshed tears. Her conscious minds reels in the feeling of her distorted vision- it isn't crying- but it is a promise. It is pin drop away from relief and he's not even started.

"Crawl to me." He says patting his lap, and Molly slowly sinks to her knees.

It is degrading. It is shameful. It is everything she needs, and as she crawls from her doorway to in front of the couch- her heart races and pounds with adrenaline. She is mortified and she is aroused. She is hopeful and she is devastated, and she doesn't even understand how she can be so many things at one time.

He gestures towards her to rise and she does standing before him, her legs are jello beneath her- and he appreciates that sentiment though he's probably never shared it, not once in his entire life.

"Strip." his voice is soft and firm, completely at ease and she wonders how many partners he has taken to bed. She wouldn't have imagined many, but the way he controls her with ease makes her thinks perhaps she is mistaken. She supposes it doesn't even matter as she raises her jumper above her head, followed by her bra, her pants and...

"Stop." he says as she moves her fingers to the elastic of her panties. "Leave them on, now on your stomach, across my lap." When she doesn't move immediately he raises his voice, just an octave above calm and says "NOW."

She all but flies herself across him shifting so her knees touch the side of his thigh, her stomach brushes over his clothed erection and she sighs, the omega in her comforted by the fact he is in fact enjoying her.

His left hand comes to rest on the small of her back, trailing down to the curve of her bottom, and Molly has to bite her lower lip to keep from saying stop. If he continues down any farther he'll see how embarrassingly wet she is. And she's quite sure the humiliation of that knowledge will be her undoing. He pauses as if sensing this his hand giving her ass a firm squeeze.

"I can smell you." He says, not even smugly. "Your so wet, it's filthy." He punctuates his statement by taking his right hand and running a finger along the center of her panties, pausing only to push down roughly on her clit through the fabric. He removes his finger and presents it to her.

"Open."

She opens her mouth to deny it, really she has every intent, but the conscious part of her is so easy to push under when the omega in her is so incredibly needy. She embraces his finger with her tongue, her mouth closing around the digit and sucking greedily at her need.

She feels his erection pulse beneath her belly and she moans squirming against him desperate for him to touch her once again. His left hand is massaging her ass and he wonders if he's doing it to keep himself grounded as she sucks his finger clean of her juices.

His left hand comes down on her ass so hard her vision blurs automatically. The omega in her whimpers and the words come spilling out of her quite brokenly. "W-what did I do?"

He smiles, moving his right hand, now discarded from her mouth, to cup her right breast hungrily, two fingers pulling the taut nipple as his left hand lands squarely on the center of her bottom.

"What did I do sir." He reminds her none to gently, his hand slapping her bottom again, the same hand dipping beneath her panties to rub a finger teasingly over her slit.

She gasps at the contact and writhes against the finger helplessly, but as soon as it was there it was gone, and the tears are no longer blurring her vision but running down her face. Desperate.

"What did I do..." she pants out, her voice a stuttered sob "sir?"

"I promised you a good cry Miss Hooper. I fully intend to give it." His hand come down her again, the thrum of fire, pain, and than oh, the helpless feeling of want. Her body burns, flushed with need and she sticks her bum up farther into the air seeking the contact, desperate for more.

"Please. Please. Please. Sir. Sir I need..Need." Its helpless and her brain is spinning with desire desperate to be sated, desperate to cum.

He knows she's close, and he can smell it. Her arousal is so thick and he has yet to even push one digit inside of her. He loves how responsive he is but he's ready...he's ready to see the look on her face when she realizes what she's signed herself up for. He has to swallow back his own need as he feels like his erection is about to tear a hole in his trousers. It's been to long since he's indulged himself. Much to long.

"What do you need Miss Hooper. Articulate."

She's sobbing her body wracked with tears and she whimpers. "I need release. I need to get off, please sir. Please."

"So proper." he praises, dipping a finger into her sex, and she nearly comes right than at the unexpected intrusion. He pumps her throughily before adding another digit, and her heads wheeling and my god she's almost there- she's almost...her muscles spasm around his fingers and "Sherlock" much to Molly's immediate dismay slips out. So, instead of pushing her over the edge he retracts his fingers abruptly.

Her brain cant compute what has just happened and her body desperately grinds against the air, confusion, anger, and agony crash over her like a wave and she sobs. Ill never stop crying, she thinks, her body hot and flailing, all ability to communicate gone. I'm going to drown. The omega in her lets out a cry, loud and hurt and it even makes the alpha in Mycroft flinch.

He's pleased with himself however, she responded as perfectly as he thought she would. Though, shes almost to sensitive. He muses. Shes unable to pick apart what I have done, or what she is in for. Hed find her dull if it wasn't the fact that she was just like a bared nerve, trembling in the elements of none other than him.

When he's satisfied that she's rode down the waves of her almost orgasm, he proceeds to do it again- build her up and up and up until she's there ready to release on his fingers, down his arm- exploding all over him and comping apart at the seems until he again, withdrawals his digits leaving her practically screaming in frustration.. She hadn't said his name this time, and it is much to his delight she is realizing what his pleasure actually is.

"Please." she babbles the third time he's built her up and denied her orgasm. "Please. Anything." She babbles helplessly, her muscles tensing around his fingers. "Anything, Anything. Please. Sir. Sir!"

"You know why you aren't a goldfish Molly?" He says leaning forward to scrape his teeth over the nape of her neck. She arches her neck giving him access, her submission- and he smirks against her skin, leaning over to speak directly into her ear, his fingers still knuckle deep inside of her, curling over that sensitive spot and she's mewing, sob-fully pleading for more as he talks. "You're a bitch. A sweet little bitch always on the brink of being thrown into heat. Ready to take whatever any Alpha will give you. Your cunt is so desperate isn't it,? Wordlessly begging for a knot."

She howls, literally arches her back and moans the highest most delicious most frustrated sound he ever heard come out of a woman.

He licks his lips, sweat has begun to build at his brow and rolls down his face in thin little streams. His body temperature has increased fifty folds and he is a hair string away from spilling his seed in his in his trousers. His knot is formed at the base of his cock and the frustration has become blinding.

"Take me out." He manages to spit out. "Take my dick out."

The profanity makes her tighten around his fingers involuntarily and with shaky hands she manages to do so, and by no prompting of his own- she takes him into her lips.

Shit.

He throws his head back against the back of the couch with a loud bang and pushes down hard on her clit allowing her to finally cum at the same time the first spurt of his semen lands in the back of her throat. She sucks him down hungrily through her release, and he can feel the faint tears of hers landing softly against his balls.

"You must be careful Miss Hooper, I could have very well knotted in your throat." and finds himself smiling as she releases his cock with a soft pop, semen very subtly staining her lips. Her eyes are glazed over as she looks at him, faint tear tracks staining her cheeks. She looks beautiful, in her own way, exhausted and completely sated.

"You need water." he says calmly, but she does not move. She is elsewhere, somewhere far away. Subspace. He muses, tucking a piece of her loose brown hair behind her ear. The alpha in him roars at him for not taking better care of her but it is an urge Mycroft is quite capable of suppressing.

It doesn't however stop him from leaving her a bottle of water on the end table next to the couch before he leaves.