Devil In My Head: "Kitten has claws." Irene mused petting the delicate hairs on Sherlock's chest. "Come to save him?" Molly snarled feeling her human teeth extend into the more purpose driven wolf fangs. "Kitten has fangs. And he's mine." There was no thought as she lounged. Werewolf AU Sherlolly
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. Moffat. Gatiss. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. They got these characters.
A/N: Short version: not dead.
Sorry about the hiatus with all my stories, but an accumulation of unfortunate events caused a break from pretty much everything. The important thing is everything is going to continue including this loving story.
This chapter is a bit more gruesome and romantic (two words that I thought would never go together) then some of the other chapters.
Thank yous and hugs to lavanyalabelle, Bucky5, and Brytte Mystere who reviewed last chapter.
Chapter Ten:
Molly twisted her fingers into the fabric on the hoodie. He'd been holding her for quite some time. She could taste the fear pulsating from his sweat. She hated to be delighted by it, but anything Sherlock gave off was intoxicating. She scratched at him nuzzling against his chest wondering when movement would commence.
Molly imagined if she did move with him she might just have to do something drastic. Slowly she pushed her pelvis against his thigh grinding against him. Her sex gained the smallest relief from the pressure, though her face reddened as her pace grew less into a grinding and more into a humping motion, breath growing uneven.
He moved ever so slightly until ultimately she was sure he had decided it was best that she be resting rather than standing in the middle of the room. When Sherlock scooped her into his arms suddenly she yelped a bit. The surprise was barely there. The movement was a bit painful when she wasn't pressed against him. He laid her onto the bed though her fingers still clung to his hoodie. Molly saw his eyes search her and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.
Instead his fingers brushed through her hair catching the knots in her hair. She sniffed tears and snot from her nose trying the best she could to pull him forward in desperation. Her throat felt so from dry. She swallowed down a lump as his strong steady fingers wrapped around her wrists.
"Sherlock." It all was starting to feel hazy, like some weird tiresome dream she had had thousands of times before.
"You hurt." He nodded his head slowly removing her grip from his chest. She pulled those fingers away when she saw the claws. "Badly I suspect. More so then before." That wasn't it at all. Molly found it strange that he couldn't tell what was wrong with her in that moment.
"You should step outside." Her voice was so soft she barely heard herself. She folded her arms together closing her eyes in order to retract the dark nails. "Killing, be it me or another, brings out aggression. Hurt. In heat it is –"
"A relief." She could see almost a smile play across his lips when her eyes popped open. Molly was careful when she reached for his cheek. Her claws had retracted.
"Yes, but," She pet him softly. "I did not kill. Not a complete relief." She could tear his cheek open. Slowly her hand moved away at the thought. She could tear it apart like tissue paper. He might have sensed this. He took a step back.
"I will wait for Billy to return." He smiled with almost a chuckle. "He seems to have a better idea on how to handle you now than I do."
Molly watched him leave. An anger built up in her throat that she couldn't understand. She could smell the dead cells on her floor. The flesh flaked off fresh and dead. Her body ached for food, nourishment not only to her desire, but need for a bite. She wondered if Billy would know this. He had not been with her long, but he was a good boy, a beyond excellent scavenger. He'd give her a little taste of a kill perhaps it would be Ivan perhaps it would be something more tame. It did not matter to her. She wanted to taste blood.
She was afraid to be anywhere near Sherlock Holmes in that moment because the blood she desired most was sitting calmly outside her door.
She would have killed him.
Sherlock knew that. Despite how much she had needed him before, without a thought, with a mere blink of her eyes she could end his life. She perhaps wouldn't even know it had happened. She might not even care for a moment or so afterwards. The blood would be enough to sate her. She'd be calmed by that now.
Molly just needed something to calm her body, flesh in one way or another. The pressure she felt on her sex was now perhaps replaced with a pressure in her throat, wanting to taste the blood and flesh of whatever she could get her hands on.
He had never thought he should have been fearful of Molly Hooper, yet he had never been more scared in all his life. He looked down at his hands, shaking. His hands were shaking. Her eyes had been so black. She had been so close to him. She may not have noticed, but her claws had been sharp enough to draw blood on his cheek.
Yet he stayed watch outside the doorway
Where else could he go? John was more than likely dead. The police were after his killer. Irene was out hunting for him. Molly was so very close to tearing him apart. He had nowhere else to turn. It was a matter of which wolf was the bigger threat. He knew Molly though. He cared for her despite her needs for flesh and death.
He could give her the sexual satisfaction she needed, but not his flesh and bone.
He knew that would hurt them both. She would not want that. Molly cared far too much for him not to regret tasting of him.
When Billy returned he had a thick bloody fresh parchment in hand and yelping of yips and howls behind him. Sherlock only saw him roll his eyes. He unleaned from the door frame to see that some sort of meat was inside the parchment.
"Is that?"
"It took a bit longer than I anticipated to skin 'em." Billy pressed his hands against the meat squeezing almost indulging in the scent. Sherlock swallowed unsettled causing Billy to muster a playful laugh.
"Mine." Sherlock turned to see Molly, black eyes and a sweet smile, begging behind him. Her feet were bare. She looked wild, ravenous with hunger for a different thing then the pleasure of another body.
"Not much just the –" Billy started, but her hands were on the bloody meat. Her nose went to it making a bloody spot on the tip. She sniffed at it letting Billy hold it in his hands.
Sherlock watched as Molly peeled the paper off carefully. The smell was ungodly though the excitement in the house was clear. He couldn't understand how rot could cause such a stir, but then he wasn't a wolf. He didn't want to eat flesh. Right now he would have given anything for any kind of vegetable.
"I gave them a proper talking to." Billy insisted as Molly took the meat into her hand. "Yap all they want you get the best piece, Mistress."
"Molly." The alpha female corrected. Billy nodded. "It's still warm."
"I gave the boys a good treat. Peeled the skin, made sure he was alright to eat. Took my time with him. Didn't want to bury him when you had just seen him dead in front of you."
"Thank you, Billy." It was then that Sherlock could see what the meat Molly had in her hand was.
It was a heart, bloody with stringy tubes and veiny leaking from every end. Blood dripped on the floor.
"It's my pleasure." He tipped his head slowly then poked his chin toward the doorway. "Now go on and enjoy your prize." Molly hesitated feeling the object in her hand. "Go on. What are you –"
Her lips planted against Billy's. Sherlock's teeth clenched together in an unfamiliar way. He watched Molly kiss the wolf with a hunger that made him squirm. He was sure his tongue had made its way down Billy's throat. The young wolf went through a wave of emotions, surprised then settled. He kissed her back pushing her hips toward his moving his against hers steadily.
Sherlock decided staying put, despite how much he did not enjoy the scene, was for the best. It didn't take long for Billy to realize what he had done. He pulled away violently eyes wide. His eyes then caught the detective's.
"I cannot." Billy swallowed looking to Molly then cast his eyes down. "Enjoy your meal, Mistress. I will have a talk with your Mister Holmes while you settle yourself down. I promise to return him to you."
"Billy please call me –"
"No," He seemed firm letting his eyes lock with her. "It's too familiar. It makes me think that I – can . . . Mistress is fine. It's what you are." Molly looked to him leaning forward as if to kiss him again. He turned his face letting her lips and tongue meet his cheek. She gave him a slowly lick unsurprised then went back to the room eyes cast down.
"Fuck." It was a slow cuss from Billy's lip as soon as Molly was out of sight. Sherlock then saw Billy look to him, eyes slightly back. "If you don't fuck her, Mr. Holmes, I'm going to have to."
"Won't the meat satisfy her?"
"Not for long." The young wolf shook his head deciding to lean against the wall beside the human male that held the heart of his mistress. "An hour or so before her hormones rage. Then she'll need the pressure again. She'll need something inside her." He shook his head. "Why don't you just do it? She loves you, you know. That's why she won't let anyone else get to her. She's mad for you. Wants you badly enough to keep the lot of us away. Ivan though, well, he would have taken her one way or another, whether she wanted it or not," He shook his head. "She's everything, so why can't you?"
"She won't let me. I suspect considering where and what she is." Sherlock looked to Billy unable to admit to another male, wolf or not, that he had never considered nor had he entertained the idea of having that kind of physical contact with another being, until today that was. Billy blinked unable to understand. "Oh, do you not know?" Again Billy seemed dumb founded. "Molly is a virgin."
He watched Billy's expression carefully as it slowly settled into that fact. It appeared things made sense. Suddenly he undid his lean looking around. He stared at Sherlock for a moment looking him over very carefully.
"Oh." He slowly then found the man's eyes. "Oh." He took a step back then looked back down at the floor. "Oh." This declaration reeked of disgust. "She can't be here. Not here. It can't happen here." He shook his head. "She wants you because she loves you." He mumbled. "She wants her first time to be . . . and really it should be. It should be special, not in a dirty drug den."
"Billy." Sherlock's voice was almost a warning.
"We have to get her out of here." The wolf declared.
It only took the detective a moment to remember. Sherlock had known the drug den was safe, but there was another place, a place he knew could be safe. He had not thought of it before simply because Molly had said this place was safe.
"I know just the place."
It was coming back.
The pressure was unsettling against her. She squirmed underneath the bloody blankets. The parchment where the heart of one of her wolves once rested was tossed onto the floor. It had been a harmonious experience to eat the muscle and chew against something that had once been living, but the tears were starting to form again as they had before. It wasn't because of the pain she had caused.
She was well aware that Ivan had a brother, a twin known the less who would probably seek vengeance. Sebastian could be dealt with if he wasn't already dead, though she suspected due to his military history Jim kept him close. Moriarty kept him close. She was strangely not able to hold that name for long in her mind. Brief visualizations and lingering memories of his body and scent were becoming pleasant memories and not the horror she wanted.
Her body was desperate for something.
It had been then and it most certainly was now. Sherlock was outside her door yet she could not smell him. Her nose was covered with blood. Molly was never subtle when it came to devouring meat. She was glad the kill had been fresh. Billy had done a fine job separating the parts. She shivered when she remembered what she had done in front of Sherlock.
Her mouth could still remembered the curves of his lips. The young wolf had tasted so good in that moment. He had even met her thrusting hips with reciprocation. She had liked that. She liked that he wanted her in the very same way. In the hours Sherlock had spent pleasing her she had not met in pleasing him. There was no give and take. It was only hers to take. Even with Moriarty, she smiled proudly at getting the name right, she had at least given him something.
"Molly," Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice. She turned smiling loving the feel his scent did to her body. Every hair was on end. All her nerve ending bubbled alive. He stared at her with a glimmer of uncertainty. "Are you alright?"
"Of course." Her tongue then darted out. She had forgotten the blood that now decorated her face. "Oh." She rubbed the sheet across her nose and mouth hoping the blood was gone. "Better?" She smiled hoping it was enough to bring him closer at the very least.
He nodded slowly moving toward her. Sherlock looked at the spot beside her. She sat on the edge of the bed gleefully smiling at him. She felt a strange comfort in his scent despite the pain that built in her lower abdomen.
"I'm fine Sherlock." She insisted. "I swear I won't bite. I swear it. I just need you near. Please sit." He slowly did so.
"Did you hear what Billy and I discussed?" He placed his hand in hers. It was a small gesture, but one she was very willing to take.
"No," She admitted. "Too involved at the moment." She didn't really care to know either. Molly was attempting to figure out a way she could return the favors Sherlock had done for her.
"We're going to get you out of here." She looked up to see his eyes strangely looking at her. Nobody had really ever looked at her that way before, like she needed protecting, but then she slowly realized who Billy and Sherlock were trying to protect her from.
"Is it me? Do you not want to be here with me? I really am sorry if I scared you, but I'm better now. Just hungry. Lots of people get cranky when they're hungry." She felt him squeeze her hand.
"No Molly, I . . ." His brows knitted together.
"Tell me." Her hand stroked his thigh, but then suddenly she smelt it on him. Something she was sure she had never smelt on Sherlock Holmes. "Oh." Her body grew flush and the pressure came back violently. She moved herself to straddle him. "You don't even have to say anything. If you wanted me please just have me. The waiting is too much to bare." She pressed her hips against him feeling every part of him gain attention. Her fingers brushed against his hair.
"Molly," She watched his eyes falter then his lips shake slightly. She tried to kiss him gently, but the scent he gave off when she did it was too lovely to resist. She kissed him with full mouth and tongue feeling a strong need to bare her weight upon. "Molly," He said between a kiss. "Not here."
"You want it though." She broke from him realizing she had pushed him down on the bed.
"I do. You can smell it right?" Slowly she watched his hand. It cupped her breast unsteadily like a strange clumsy teenage boy would.
"Yes, you smell very lovely when you're passionate." She had smelt excitement on him before, when he solved cases he had this glow of pride about him, but this . . . this was different. This was better. She ran her hand on his chest.
"There's a place." He slowly said. He reached for her face with both hands. "A place Irene won't know of. A place where we'll be safe. Together."
Molly just nodded. Anywhere with Sherlock would be safe.
And if Irene wanted him, Molly was sure to have another heart to devour that day.