Molly awoke to a chill, the 'someone has left the bed and it's starting to cool', kind of chill. When she sat up, she rubbed her eyes and looked around the dusky room. The sun hadn't breached the horizon, she was sure, but it would be up soon. Her eyes fell on Sherlock wrapped in the room's only white, cotton robe. He reclined in a metal chair he'd found at the desk. He was achingly handsome in his sleep. Her heart fluttered at the rare softness of his expression.
Quietly and as stealthily as she could, she slipped from the bed and into the room's small washroom. She gaped at herself in the mirror and then her face heated. She had been thoroughly tumbled. Her long brown hair was in disarray, her mascara had smudged and her neck was faintly pink from where Sherlock's stubble had scratched her skin. Oh, Lord, the events of the previous evening flooded back to her and her insides clenched. She looked down as she felt something wet dribble down her leg.
She smacked her own forehead and gritted her teeth. Then shook her head and set about tidying herself.
"Really, Hooper? You trying to tempt fate?" She thought angrily.
At least she was still taking her monthly contraception. Though, it hadn't been as consistent as she would have liked with all the goings on like people trying to kill her, international travel and such. There wasn't much chance she could get pregnant but one could never rule out the possibility when intercourse was involved.
She gripped the edge of the sink as remembered the feel of Sherlock's invasion. Her mouth watered, her inner walls palpitated and every inch of her skin tingled. He was the only man she'd ever had sex with without a condom and dirty girl that she was, she'd loved every primitive second of it. All the scaremongering of her parents and her medical training had cemented in her head the importance of protecting herself but with Sherlock, well, it all went for shit.
Which meant, they needed to sort some things out before they got themselves into trouble. Molly stepped in front of the mirror again and shook her fist at herself.
"Do not leave here without clearing some things up with him, Doctor!"
She nodded, lifted her chin and then tip-toed back into the main room. When she glanced at Sherlock, she saw that he was awake. She bit her lip and felt her skin heat all over. She was still completely naked. She reached for the bedding but then Sherlock's voice rumbled from the far side of the room.
"Don't. Come here . . . please."
Molly's eyes flicked up. She took a step towards him shyly with her arms crossed and tilted her head forward so her hair would offer some coverage. His eyes remained narrowed slightly but intensely focused on her every movement. When she was just a step away, his hand moved to the tie on his robe and plucked it apart. He let it fall open, off his shoulders and then reached a hand out.
She swallowed. Her heart sped up. She parted her lips and tried to breathe in and out evenly. Double damn! That was not going to happen. Not with the sexy-as-hell bedroom eyes and tick of a muscle in his jaw as he concentrated on her face. She clasped his hand and let him draw her onto his lap. A breathy sound escaped her lips as his fingers settled on her hips and had her straddle his legs. His cock, already stiff, jutted up between them.
Molly groaned as she slid her hands over the sides of his taut abdomen. "Sherlock, we need to talk, you know."
One of his hands danced up along her spine until his fingers played with the hairs at the nape of her neck. The corner of his mouth twitched. His lips parted a moment, closed and then opened again.
"It is five-thirty in the morning. It's too early to talk," he murmured.
His cock moved between them.
"It's too early to do a lot of things," she sighed.
His eyes flitted over her face. "I disagree."
She ran her hands up his body and circled them around his neck. "You are a very bad man, Sherlock Holmes."
His other hand pressed into the small of her back and coerced her forwards until their bodies were in full contact and their lips a sliver apart.
"Yes, and?"
She drew in a shaky breath. "Well, ah, w-we keep doing this and I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We're not good, right? So, don't think things are resolved . . ."
"You injure me, Molly."
He leaned forward and kissed her languidly. His lips stuck to hers as he pulled back. His fingers massaged her back.
"Um, h-huh?" She stuttered.
Her head was already swimming. Her core felt incredibly hot and needy and damp like it had a mind of its own and it knew his shaft was right there.
His eyes rounded and he puffed his lips out in a pout.
"I can't help feeling as if you are," he blinked several times and slapped a hand to his chest, "using me for sex. I feel so violated."
She frowned at him. "Don't be smart, Sherlock."
He wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes around. "Hmm, sorry, impossible."
She pushed at his shoulder. "Or an arrogant arse!"
"Also, impossible," His mouth hung open in feigned umbrage. "Molly, I beginning to wonder if you know me at all."
Molly reached down between them then and wrapped her hands around his engorged member. His mouth went slack and his head fell back a moment as she slid her hands along his length. When he dropped his chin again, his pale eyes had gone as dark as a thunder cloud.
"I am corrected," he muttered.
Both his hands dropped to her bum then and he ground her against his rigid cock. Then he lifted her slightly and let her slide back down his length. She could feel every bump of every vein against her sweet spot. His chest heaved as his hot breaths gusted over her face. A shudder pulsed through his body which she could feel through her own. Her channel tightened. She was already ready for him, sopping, in fact. She squeezed her legs around his torso.
"C-can I have it please?" She whispered.
He raised a brow. "What do you want?"
She chewed her lip. "You know what."
"Mm, no, I think I need more explicit instruction."
Molly huffed. Her face felt on fire. "Arg, y-your cock. I want it."
"Ah, I see," he rumbled and lifted her up and back until she was positioned over his shaft.
Molly held her breath as his blunt head probed her body. She sank down on him and sighed as he penetrated inch by inch. Every so often, she would stick on him a bit then plunge down until she was almost fully pierced by his hard staff. He shifted his hips and with a quick jerk, she was completely seated on his cock with his testicles pressed up against her backside. He was so far buried in her womb she could feel her belly button twinge.
"Mm, ha-a-a!" She muttered and leaned her head against his
She was still a bit sore from the previous night but it felt freakin' fantastic.
"Molly," he gasped, "Dear God, I think you are the bad one in this situation. I have had an easier time passing on morphine."
His mouth found hers and he plunged his tongue between her lips as he gripped her arse and propelled his hips upwards. She was just at the right angle that her cleft rubbed against his body and perfectly stroked her clit. She shuddered with each thrust upwards and slide of his tongue over hers. She found herself mewling against his mouth and rocking her hips in tune as he assailed her body over and over.
Tension formed at the sensitive point between her legs. The delicious friction stoked a fire and created a ball of pressure that felt ready to burst. She planted her hands on his shoulders and anchored herself on him. Each jerk of his hips brushed his dusting of chest hair over her nipples and made them tingle. It was enough to make her fracture.
Then one of Sherlock's hands slid up the side of her body. He pulled his head back. His eyes met hers intensely and he slowed his thrusts for a moment. His digits brushed over her lips and she parted them. He pushed his finger gently inside.
"Lick," he said gruffly and watched as she complied.
Molly stroked her tongue along the ridges of his print. He extracted his finger, licked it himself and then she felt the heel of his palm skim down her body to her bum where she felt him nudge her cheeks apart with his knuckle. His eyes bore into hers as his other hand clutched her firmly. His hips continued to lift against hers and then . . .
"Aah! Unh!"
He swirled a warm, wet finger around the sensitive skin of somewhere very naughty and then jerked his hips upwards. Molly felt like she fell off a bicycle and started tumbling. A violent pulse exploded from her center and rippled outwards as she came hard. Her whole body spasmed and her spine went rigid.
"Holy, mother fffff. . ."
Sherlock cursed as she clenched around him. He leaned forwards, wrapped his arms around her and then jolted her a few more times before dropping his head to her shoulder and tensing. He jerked one final time and then trembled with his own discharge. His cock pulsed several times deep within her body.
"Oh my god, oh my god," she panted. "You're a wicked, very bad man."
He turned his head and laughed against her neck. She threaded her fingers into his hair as he kissed her neck.
"That's what you like about me."
Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow and pushed a strand of hair off Molly's face. He felt the corner of his lip tug upwards as she snored softly. He felt a bit of pride in that, actually. He had worn her out.
His smile faded as he scanned her frame. A tremor rippled through his abdomen. She was ridiculously small, tiny even. She was essentially defenseless if ever accosted. Someone had tried to take her from him, twice. Mycroft thought he didn't know about that but his spies stationed around Molly's flat had seen the commotion. A couple of questions of the right people and he had learned everything he needed to know about the second attempt on her life. He let Mycroft spirit her away thinking she would be safer under heavy guard at some resort somewhere. What a mistake that had been. His fingers shook as he touched her brow.
He felt as if his connection to her was but a shaky grasp on a string of a kite caught in a storm. He was trying so hard to hold on but it was a losing battle. Greater forces than he could muster were determined to rip her from his grasp.
He blinked a few times. Seldom used tear ducts prickled painfully. He shook his head. He was an idiot, a fool, and he'd made the biggest mistake of his life letting Molly Hooper into his world because . . . because now he really had something to lose. He loved John, and Mrs. Hudson and was . . . fond? of Greg Lestrade, but he couldn't imagine throwing himself in front of a train if any of them expired as he could if Molly ceased to exist.
"Molly," he murmured.
She continued to snore.
"Molly," he said softly. "I am sorry for everything, every word I uttered that caused you pain. I do not deserve your forgiveness even though . . ."
He swallowed. "Even though I need it, so desperately."
Molly flinched in her sleep. Her mouth fell open and she snorted. He rubbed a hand over his face. A silent laughter shook his chest but his eyes stung again. His hand hovered over her face. He daren't wake her. He began to choke up. Damn sentiment!
"A-and I am sorry for what's to come because I cannot prevent the pain it will bring you. Please know, no matter what happens, that . . .that . . ."
She snuggled against him and mumbled something. He halted his breathing for a moment until he heard her heavy inhalations again. He finally settled his hand lightly on her hair and stroked it.
"I love you, Molly."