Warning: M-rated chapter with John/Molly smut. You've been warned.

Chapter 14

John had the table set and a bottle of wine breathing by the time Molly returned with take out. He was sorting through some boxes that Mrs. Hudson had clearly packed and he looked stressed.

Molly, however, was hopeful for the first time since Sherlock… left. Her plan was coming together, and after tomorrow's piece fell into place, the hard work would really begin. It felt good to have a purpose, to be in control of this for once in her life. John, however, didn't look as enthusiastic.

She came up behind him and worked her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders until he began to relax, and even moan at her touch. An excellent working knowledge of anatomy did have its benefits.

"If we stop and eat now," John asked, his eyes still closed as her fingers worked on the knots in his back, "will you promise to pick this up after dinner?" His stomach rumbled and the mood lightened.

During dinner, John described several cases they might accept, surprised that there were people that refused to believe Sherlock was guilty. They still hoped John could help them, and he was looking forward to the work. Molly related her conversation with Greg, as John nearly choked on his lo mein.

"I'm not really going to have an affair with Greg, John."

"Does he know that?"

"He'll figure it out," Molly quipped.

"Before or after you lure him to a seedy motel room?"

"I guess we'll find out good Lestrade really is." She winked at John and they finished dinner.

John washed the dishes while Molly dried. John looked at her and smiled. "You know, Sherlock would never have helped with the dishes. I find I rather like this arrangement."

"So you're ready to give up the life of fighting crime for domestic tranquility?"

"No, no," John said playfully. "But maybe we can still do this when I find a new place."

"A new place? Why?"

"I moved in here with Sherlock because I couldn't afford a place like this on my own. With him gone… I can't bear the thought of finding a new flatmate here."

Molly hesitated for a moment, then decided she was finished with being timid and uncertain. "I could move in, if you like. My lease is up soon."

John cleared his throat twice. "Don't you think that's it's a little.. ah… soon?"

"You need a flatmate, I can afford the rent, and we'll be working together regularly anyway. We'll need a place like this to collaborate."

John considered her points, as well as the ones she didn't make, about them. "Where are you going to, ah, sleep?"

"John… I…"

He pulled her into a hug. "There's no pressure, Molly. This is hard, on both of us. We'll just take it one day at a time, right?" She nodded and he felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate. "Mrs. Hudson and I should have his things boxed up and out of here in a few days."

"No!" Molly nearly shouted. "Leave it all the same, please," her voice was desperate, then quieter. "Please."

"Okay. We don't have to move anything. Not if you need it, love." Molly tried to swallow down the panic, but it threatened to overwhelm her. "We'll keep it all, Molly. We'll keep it," he whispered to her calmingly.

She nodded into his shoulder, and several deep breaths later, as she focused on how she had felt out in the cold- the stinging, biting needles of it on her skin, and it helped her calm her mind. "Leave the dishes. I believe I owe you some more work on your rhomboids."

"I love it when you talk dirty," he kissed her on the cheek, then the ear lightly, lowering his arms and giving her an opportunity to step away if she needed to. In their short time together, John knew Molly was frightened and skittish about intimacy, probably because Sherlock had taken every opportunity to damage her self-esteem. He had to let her come to him. "So how do you want me?"

She led him upstairs to his room, efficiently unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed it off his shoulders, avoiding his small attempts to turn the act into more. "Sit," she commanded, pointing at the corner of the bed.

John complied with a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "Your wish is my command, m'lady."

Molly silenced him by working her fingers into the scar tissue of his left shoulder, finding the tight bands there and working them loose. Moving his shoulder to stretch the muscles in his upper back, she found sore spots he didn't realize he had, and he couldn't help but moan when she massaged them loose. His eyes closed, and he had a dreamy look on his face. "I think you missed your calling, Dr. Hooper." She stopped and rested her hands on his hips, her forehead on his upper back. "May I return the favor?" He gave her a chance to run if she needed it.

John turned around, letting her head touch his shoulder as he began by lightly running his fingertips over her upper back, waiting to see what she would do. The touch was personal, intimate, and tentative, but it asked for permission to do more. He worried as she pulled back slightly that she was going to bolt and he immediately regretted his presumption about her consent.

But rather than run, she kissed him, her touch urgent and needy as she pushed him down on to the bed and straddled his hips. Her mouth was everywhere—his neck, his ears, his chest, his nipples. He let her have her way with him until she grabbed his hands and put them on her hips.

"Please John, please," she was nearly frantic. "Please touch me." He sat up, Molly still on his lap, and covered her lips, his tongue sliding into her mouth rhythmically as he rocked his hips up against her.

"Tell me what you need, love. Tell me, and it's yours," he whispered into her ear as she scratched his back lightly with her nails.

"I don't want to think anymore. Please just make me stop thinking." She ground her hips against pelvis, feeling his hard length straining there, and lightly nipped his neck as she begged him. "Please."

He pulled her shirt over her head quickly, throwing it to the side, then buried his head between her breasts, teasing her nipples through the thin fabric that covered them, increasing the pressure until she threw her head back and cried out. John held her like that as she moaned but made no move to stop him. He pulled her bra down and latched on to her nipple, pulling with his mouth and teeth as she held his head against her. His free hand touched her firmly through her trousers, as she rotated her hips, begging for more contact.

Unwilling to wait, Molly stood while John sat on the edge of the bed and helped rid her of the rest of her clothes. John slid two fingers into her as she straddled his lap.

"God, Molly, you are so wet." He added a third finger, delighted by her whimpering as he circled his thumb over her clit. She ground herself against his hand while she pinched both of her nipples, her eyes tightly shut, lost to the sensations.

John moved her hands to his shoulders, replacing her grip on her nipples with his mouth on one, his left hand on the other.

"More, please… harder," she panted, and he obliged, pushing her over the edge. He held her as she screamed her release, then he withdrew his fingers slowly and tasted her sweetness on them. John was so hard his trousers were becoming seriously uncomfortable, especially with Molly's sated body still pressing down on his groin. He rolled her onto her back and quickly divested himself of the remainder of his clothes.

He eased her knees apart and licked and bit gently along her inner thighs, before settling himself between her legs and rubbing his tongue up and down her swollen clit. Molly bucked her hips up at him asking for more contact, but he teased her by making her wait while he barely touched her opening with his fingers. Apparently not satisfied with that, Molly guided his head up to hers and kissed him deeply, tasting herself all over his face. She moaned encouraged him onto his back, where she worked her way down his chest, lingering over his nipples, then taking the hard length of him into her small hand.

John hissed and Molly was afraid she'd done something wrong, but he reassured her. "Please don't stop, you feel so good."

"Show me, please," she placed his hand over hers as she gripped him, "show me how you like it." He momentarily wondered how experienced she really was, but he guided her, showing her how firmly to hold him and how to build up her speed. He closed his eyes and rested his head back, enjoying the incredible feel of her hands when he felt her warm, wet lips close over the head of his cock. He hadn't been expecting that, and thought he might come just from that sensation alone.

He looked down at her, so innocent, so unsure of herself. He almost stopped her, worried that she felt obligated, but he didn't have a chance as she enveloped his cock and slid half of him into her mouth. "Oh, yes," he groaned, clutching at the sheets next to his hips. Several more strokes and she had worked more of his cock into her throat, and she pulled his hands up to the sides of her face. He guided her head, careful not to ask too much of her, but she quickly gained confidence and soon had nearly all of him sheathed in the throat. At that point, he couldn't help himself, and he bucked his hips up towards her mouth. She kept pace with him, not complaining, but he didn't want to finish like this.

John broke the contact, and she looked up at him, worried. "That felt incredible, Molly, but I want to be inside you when we both come." She crawled back up his body and he sucked on her nipples until she moaned, at which cue he finally penetrated her with two fingers. His thumb rubbed her clit as she balanced herself with her hands on his shoulders. By her breathing, he knew she was getting close, so he tried to reach his nightstand for a condom. She whimpered at the loss of contact and rubbed her wetness over his cock.

"No, please, we're both okay, right?" She begged, frantic. He nodded and she sat back, guiding his cock into her. She set a rhythm that worked for both of them, rotating her hips with each downward thrust. John's fingers worked her clit, and the sight of her moving above him, gasping and taking such pleasure from him, brought him to the edge quickly. He pulled her hips down against him three more times, burying himself fully in her tight canal, and they both screamed as their orgasm ripped through them.

She collapsed down onto his chest, letting her inner muscles continue to spasm around his shaft. After few minutes of stroking her back, her breathing calmed and she nuzzled his neck as he pulled her closer and breathed in her intoxicating smell- peaches and vanilla soap and the sweetness of her sex. He could get used to having her in his arms like this every day and night.

"Better?" he asked, knowing they were both sated.

Molly lifted her head and shame suddenly played across her features. "Oh… John… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

John held her chin gently while he kissed her, cutting off her apology. "Never be sorry for asking for what you need. Especially not with me. Ever."

When she finally met his gaze and nodded, she had tears in her eyes that spilled over onto her cheeks. John didn't have to be told why. He knew it was a mixture of some old and deep pain intermingled with her regrets over Sherlock, but he wasn't offended. He held her against his chest as she wept, pulling the blanket over them both.

John closed his eyes, thinking how sad it was that Sherlock had never let her in. He had never known what he was missing.