One more chapter after this one. Thanks for the reviews so far! And the follows and the everything and yes.
Enjoy!
"Does it bother you?" her question dragged him up to rest his chin on her stomach—he was laid out across the bed, using her as a pillow. Molly smiled down at him, her eyes sleepy, but her eyebrows were pinched together just a touch. Mycroft kissed her belly, rolling his face just a little into her skin, his hand grabbing a little tighter around her knee. She was taking a night off from sheltering his brother, and he was happy to take full advantage.
"Does what?" He already knew, of course, but it was polite to ask. Mycroft heaved himself up a little, kissing his way up towards her breasts. They were so very well proportioned to her body. Her chest blushed a little under his eyes—and he liked the way her skin buzzed his lips a bit as she spoke again.
"Keeping secrets?" Mycroft huffed a laugh which had Molly twitching nicely against him. He liked her. A lot, enough to share just a little.
"I was raised around them. Like well-tailored, but worn gloves they are easy to put on. They are easy to move dexterously with, despite the numb, unfeeling layer. A second skin which I've known all my life. Sherlock always disliked how comfortable I was." He nuzzled the indent of her clavicle, opening his mouth to gently run his teeth along the barest hint of the bone. "But you don't seem to mind."
She pushed his hair back from his forehead, scratching his scalp just a little.
"Everyone has secrets, I've learned. Even a man with a position so minor in the British government they can't seem to give him a proper title or even list his office at work." That made him smile—he did like it when people teased. People did it to him so rarely—fear, which was ridiculous—that even the slightest teasing dig was appreciated.
"Even the least may sometimes make a crucial difference, Molly," he said, leaning more fully over her and urging her knee up to cradle her leg along his side. He kissed her, loving the feel of her lips and the tiny prick of coolness coming from where her hand curled at the back of his neck—the cool metal of the ring she'd let him put on her. They would get married when his brother came out of hiding, he'd decided.
"I love you, Molly Hooper."
"And I love you, Mycroft Holmes."
Anyone but Molly would have said that his smile was unkind just before he kissed her again. They would have been intimidated by what he said, too, just a single word.
"Good."
Review?
