A/N: Hey readers! If I've been a while, it's because writing smut well is really hard to do! There's been a lot of build-up and I really hope I don't disappoint. The rating has changed accordingly to "M". To anybody not comfortable reading smut, there is a section break before it gets naughty. And never fear, you won't miss any plot – this chapter is all about reunion and their coming together (in more ways than one).

Also, a little tip: to anybody who might have a hard time seeing Mycroft in this light, look this up on Youtube: The Crimson Petal and the White – "The Flames of Passion." It's basically Mark Gatiss shirtless and doing a pretty hot scene.

Twenty-Five

When Molly opened the front door of her home, only a few lights were on, and all were on a dim setting. It was enough to illuminate a trail of rose petals on the floor that began a few feet from the front door. Molly's heart began to pound. Still keeping silent but feeling as though she might burst any second, she slipped off her white lab coat and hung it on the coat stand. When she saw Mycroft's own coat and umbrella hanging neatly on one of the pegs, her eyes watered. She clutched the coat and buried her face in it for a moment before pulling herself together. She was about to smell the real thing, anyway!

So, after slipping off her shoes and socks, Molly followed the trail of rose petals with a measured step. Though the lighting was dim, she could see that the colors of the petals changed the further she followed them. She had learned as a hormonal teenager the meanings of each rose color, and she knew that Mycroft knew that, so her heart got bigger and bigger as she interpreted each color she saw.

It was a road map of their relationship.

The first petals were pink, both light and dark; these represented sympathy, admiration, gratitude and gentleness – the beginning of them truly seeing and getting to know each other.

Then came yellow petals, the color of true friendship and joy; their friendship had certainly brought joy and light to a very dark time.

Molly paused for a moment when she saw that a few of the yellow petals had red tips – those roses represented friendship turning into love. She smiled and continued following the petals.

Third came orange rose petals, and Molly blushed since they represented enthusiasm and desire. That beautiful new year's night, when a kiss had shifted their relationship from platonic to romantic…his birthday, when their desire had first gone beyond mere sparks…

The color then sobered into peach, which indicated "closing the deal" and "let's get together." How their relationship had deepened and truly become a soul connection after her brother's death, in that cottage by the sea…and when he had proposed to her when visiting his parents, on the hill where he and his twin loved to play…

The fifth color that came to the rose petals was white, and that wouldn't be a mystery to anybody. Like the white roses in her bouquet and the color of her dress…white roses meant bride and matrimony any day of the week. And oh, what a glorious day that had been!

The rose petal trail ended just outside the door of the Diogenes room, as she had come to call it. But the rose petal trail did not end in white petals – the last color they held were red. No mysteries about that meaning, either.

Her heart pounding harder than ever, Molly pressed her hand to the wall and tried to catch her breath. God, her cheeks felt as though they were on fire! Then Molly looked down at the bottom of the door. There was light coming through the crack, a warm and flickering light. Which meant that Mycroft had lit a fire in the grate…Mycroft was waiting for her…Her husband was home and waiting for her.

With joy overflowing in her soul, Molly silently opened the door and looked inside.

A merry fire was indeed roaring in the grate, and in front of the fireplace, a sumptuous arrangement of pillows, cushions and blankets had been arranged, large enough for two. And sitting in his favorite chair was her husband – and he had dozed off waiting for her.

Molly had to bite back a giggle along with a joyful exclamation at seeing him again. She really couldn't be angry that he'd nodded off. She couldn't imagine that today, let alone this last week spent undercover, had been restful. Add jetlag and his age to the equation and of course he'd be tired! Seeing that he wasn't wearing a jacket, tie, waistcoat or shoes, Molly looked around and found those items neatly folded on the sofa.

Looking back at her dozing husband, the young wife then realized what that could mean for tonight, but her disappointment only lasted for a few moments. Bottom line: he was home, she would sleep in his arms tonight, and they had the rest of their lives ahead of them together. That was what truly mattered.

So, Molly silently closed the door of the room and tiptoed over to him. Bending over, Molly stroked his cheek and he stirred. Smiling, she kissed his nose, which made him fully wake up. When Mycroft's vision cleared of sleep and his gaze found hers, his eyes widened at the sight of her smiling face.

Her smile turned into an undignified squeal when, in the next second, he had pulled her down onto the chair with him, so that she straddled his lap. He held Molly to him tightly and pressed his face against her neck; Molly's arms wrapped around his shoulders just as tightly, her lips pressing kisses to his head and neck. When the need to see his face became too strong, Molly ceased her kisses and cupped his face, bringing it up from her neck. "Welcome home, husband," she said softly, sweetly, with a full heart.

Mycroft didn't say anything and his hold around her did not loosen. Instead he kissed her, hard on the mouth in near desperation. Molly reciprocated without hesitation, her fingers raking through his hair as their kisses deepened. The snogging session that followed was very steamy indeed, even steamier than the one they'd engaged in on Mycroft's birthday, and lasted quite a while. It was Mycroft who broke away first, and when Molly caught her breath again, she realized why.

Her husband's hands had ended up between them, his fingers having found the rings around her neck after unconsciously finishing off the top buttons of her blouse. Their wedding rings. Smiling again, Molly reached behind her neck and undid the delicate clasp and then carefully dropped the rings into her husband's now upturned right hand.

Almost reverently, Mycroft picked out his own ring and held it up to her. She took it and slipped it back onto his left ring finger, right where it belonged. She then held out her own left hand to Mycroft, and onto her own left ring finger he carefully slipped back on first her wedding band and then her engagement ring. Both instantly felt a relief settle over their hearts.

Caressing his face, Molly asked softly, "You're alright, My?"

Her husband smiled and kissed her again, more gently than before. "I am completely alright, my love. It's been a long day, a longer week, and an everlasting five weeks before that…but I can guarantee you that right now, at this moment, I have never been better. And no," he practically growled, pressing her down on his lap a bit more firmly so that she could really feel the very solid evidence of his arousal, "I don't feel at all tired anymore."

His hands came up again, and his fingers resumed their work undoing the buttons of her blouse. Molly whimpered and offered no resistance or objection. The both of them had waited much too long for this, and both of them were determined to savor and enjoy every moment of it…

Mycroft soon finished undoing the buttons down the front of Molly's long-sleeved blouse. But before he could remove it, she held up her wrists, showing him that the ends of the sleeves were held together by buttons. "You missed a few," she said sweetly.

Smiling in return, Mycroft set to work on her wrists. "Such tiny buttons here must be tricky, no?" he asked innocently, but the gleam in his eyes was delightfully wicked.

Molly bit back her giggles and teased him right back: "Well, in my line of work, I need to be exceptionally skilled with my fingers."

"Oh, I've no doubt of that, my dear." He finished undoing both of the wrist buttons of her long-sleeved blouse, and finally slid the garment off of her torso. Molly bit her lip as his eyes hungrily drank in the sight before his eyes, her bra the only piece of clothing on her upper body now. Feeling herself blush from her cheeks to her chest, Molly internally reprimanded herself for suddenly feeling shy when she had no reason to be. Mycroft intuitively sensed her thought process, and cupped her face in his hands. "I'm not going anywhere," he breathed, "not when the most beautiful being in existence chose me."

Molly's first impulse was to smirk and call him a sweet-talker, but she was too moved and emotion choked in her throat. So she took his hands from her face, kissed them, and them brought them around her back so they rested over the clasp of her bra. Though she didn't say it aloud, the look in her eyes told him that this action was not easy for her. Her breasts had always been the part of her body that she'd had the least amount of confidence in on account of the size; this insecurity had existed long before her new brother-in-law so bluntly pointed out their rather small nature. She'd never spoken this insecurity aloud to her husband, but her body language this evening told him everything that he needed to know.

So, Mycroft kept eye contact with her as he removed the simple nude bra from her torso and tossed it in the same direction he'd tossed her blouse. He then brought her closer to kiss her again before he brought his hands back around to her front. She whimpered and groaned into his mouth as his hands found her breasts, massaging and rubbing them in all the right ways. Then his mouth left hers and traveled down her neck and chest to where his hands already were, and she had nothing to muffle the sounds of her pleasure-filled moans. But what her husband was doing was rapidly destroying her natural modesty, and thank goodness for that!

Her own fingers raked through his hair again before descending down. When her fingers brushed along the soft skin below his ears, Mycroft's entire body shudder and she felt more than heard him groan against her right breast. She stored this piece of information inside her mind with a smirk, and then let her hands lower along his neck, but then her hands came into contact with the white button-up shirt that he was still wearing.

Pursing her lips, Molly lifted Mycroft's head from her chest. He looked a little miffed at being interrupted, and she smiled at that. Tugging on his shirt collar, she purred, "Let's even things out a bit, shall we?"

Mycroft, having regained his breath, chuckled and held out his own wrists to her. "What are you waiting for? Let's see how those skilled fingers do with cufflinks."

Molly laughed and started her task. With Mycroft's guidance, she managed to remove the two delicate pins from his cuffs quite quickly, and carefully placed them on the small table beside his chair. Then Molly undid each of the buttons down his front as Mycroft unbraided her long hair. When Molly had finished the task and made to take off the shirt, Mycroft stopped her. "That may be tricky considering how we are seated," he said, indicating how she was straddling him as he sat back in his chair.

"Ah, of course," she said. "Then let's move to the more comfortable spot that you made for us. Which is lovely, by the way."

"I'm very glad you think so," said Mycroft.

The two then got up from his chair and walked hand-in-hand towards the luxurious spread that Mycroft had made before the fireplace. Once they were both seated and facing each other, Molly slid Mycroft's shirt off his torso. He silently chuckled as she carefully folded it and placed it as far as she could to the side. Blushing a bit, she softly explained, "Your clothes are so nice, I don't want to just discard them."

"This is why dry cleaning exists, my love," Mycroft replied, and they both laughed softly.

After their amusement had calmed, Molly reached out her hands to him, and his own hands rested on her naked hips, his thumbs stroking her skin. Her own hands fell on his shoulders. Even in the firelight, she could see that the pale skin of his shoulders and arms was covered in light freckles. Following her hands with her eyes, Molly drank in the sight of his chest, which she'd never gotten a good look at before. He was by no means a muscle man, but he was in good shape thanks to his regular jogging routine three times a week. The sight of his generous amout of chest hair was making Molly feel even hotter than she'd been before.

When her hands came to rest over his heart, she felt it pounding just as strongly as her own. Feeling this, all of the emotions in her heart spilled over, and she leaned forward so she could wrap her arms around him. Now nothing separated them but skin, a level of intimacy they hadn't reached before…and it felt completely natural. "I've missed you so much," she breathed, the words just pouring out against the skin of his neck. "So, so much…"

His own arms came around her just as tightly, and he breathed in the scent of her hair. "And I you…each day away from you was excrutiating, and the nights were even worse." His voice was so low she felt it more than heard it. "All I could think of was you, being with you, ravishing you…whether wide awake or dreaming…you consumed me."

His skin was so warm, and she knew it wasn't only from the warmth of the fire. "Oh, My…"

Words stopped after that, and their lips met again with more passion than ever before. Soon every other piece of their clothing had found their way – not so neatly – into a pile near the coffee table, and the two of them were lying back on the cushions and blankets. Lying on her back, Molly shut her eyes and gave herself to the sensations that her husband was giving her as his hands and mouth made their way down her body. Oh, he knew just how to touch her, in all of the right places…

When she felt his hot breath against her center, the tip of his nose just rubbing her there, Molly felt the greatest jolt of pleasure that she had ever felt. It was enough for her to open her eyes and bring her a bit closer to earth. She lifted her head and reached her hand out to stroke his cheek, causing him to lift his face.

After their eyes met, both pairs very dark with desire, Molly said softly, "You don't have to do that, My, if you don't want to –"

"I do want to," he replied, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it. "Believe me, my love: I've been dreaming of tasting you for a long time."

What else could Molly do but caress his cheek and let her head fall back against the pillows? Of her previous two relationships, only her second, Edward, had ever performed cuntilingus for her. It had only happened a few times, and when he did, it had only been because she had just performed oral sex on him. Plus, it seemed like one of those facts of life that men were not the biggest fan of going down on women for whatever reason.

But Mycroft said he wanted to, and she would be lying if she said that she hadn't everdreamed of Mycroft between her legs…

Then his mouth went to work and all cohesive or coherent thoughts left Molly's mind completely. She was lost in the sweetest and most agonizing pleasure imaginable, and she couldn't control the moans and cries that were torn from her throat. One hand clutched one of the pillows, and her dominant right hand was on his head, her fingers again raking through his hair. Every cell in her body was aflame, and she didn't want it to stop.

But stop it must – just not before the most Earth-shattering climax that she never thought she would experience in her life. Her back arching, her head pressing back against a pillow, and her mouth open in a silent but passionate cry she was sure made it all the way up to the heavens – for in that moment of climax, she was very certain that she had, too.

After it was over, Molly's entire body went limp and a fog of afterglow descended upon her. Through it, though, she felt her husband pressing gentle kisses to her inner thighs, her hips, her belly. When she found the strength to do so, Molly opened her eyes again. The fog of the afterglow faded and she watched Mycroft lift his head, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawl up her body until his face was hovering above her own. His eyes drank in her expression as he caressed her face; no words were needed from her to tell him just how well he had done.

Now that he was hovering above her face-to-face again, Molly could feel the prominent erection her husband had against her inner thigh. Any traces of exhaustion or weakness that had come from her powerful climax at the feeling, and her desire began to boil all over again. She lifted her hand and reached down; when it found his member, her fingers lovingly caressed the organ. It felt soft, hard and hot all at the same time.

At her action, Mycroft shut his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers as he gave an almost desperate groan. "Molly, please, I…"

Molly stopped, and brought both of her hands up to cup his cheeks. She could see on his face and hear in his voice the strands of fear and shame that had arisen at her action. When she recalled what he had told her of the woman who had humiliated him twenty years ago, it made perfect sense. Of course he would be afraid of letting her down, of his body betraying him in this embarrassing way. Of course, she wouldn't have any of that, especially tonight.

Caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs, she said quietly but clearly: "Look at me."

Keeping his forehead against hers, Mycroft obeyed her, and the sight of all of the emotions in her eyes made him want to weep. Then she said the only three words that needed to be said, for they encompassed everything that he needed to hear and know:

"I love you."

He kissed her as a tear escaped from each of his eyes. Molly kissed him back fiercely, willing all of his nervousness and insecurity to vanish. She could taste herself on his tongue, but she didn't care at all. She actually rather liked it, she would later realize.

Their eyes met again when the kiss had ended. Molly nodded at the question in Mycroft's eyes: she was ready, more than ready. So, his eyes never leaving hers, Mycroft reached down, took his naked member in his hand. Both knew that the other was clean; Mycroft also knew that Molly had been on birth control ever since their romantic relationship had begun.

When Molly felt the tip of his member touch her entrance, she whimpered and gripped his shoulders. Pressing his forehead to hers again, Mycroft said, "I love you," just before he entered her for the first time.

He took his time in filling her, for it had been a long time for the both of them. In and out, he gently went deeper, watching her face for any sign of pain or discomfort. Molly only felt a tiny bit of each, and she would reassure him and urge him on by lifting her hips and pressing kisses to his jaw and neck. When he had filled her completely, Mycroft lowered his head to her neck to he could take a few deep breaths as his body shuddered. Molly waited for him, rubbing his back and kissing his shoulder.

After three deep breaths, Mycroft seemed to have won the battle against his nerves. He lifted his head and began to move within her. Molly in turn brought her left leg up to wrap around his middle; her right leg followed soon after. They made love not too slowly and not too quickly, neither holding back the sounds of their pleasure or their love for each other in their actions.

For the first time, both of them could understand why sex was considered by some to be sacred and spiritually intimate. Neither had been raised religious, therefore neither had been taught to save yourself for marriage. Neither had planned the way their relationship had become intimate – that they wouldn't come together physically until they were married – but now neither would have had it any other way. Looking back, both of them knew that what made their intimacy feel so sacred: not a religious faith, but a true and deep love for each other.

When the both of them came close to climaxing, their movements became harder, more urgent, their passion almost boiling over. Molly came first, her nails digging into the skin of Mycroft's lower back, and her head thrown back in abandon. Mere seconds later, Mycroft's own release followed. He let out a great cry of Molly's name against her neck, sounding so vulnerable and desperate with no defenses up at all. With a massive shudder, he spilled out inside her, and then his body practically collapsed over hers. Somehow, he managed not to completely crush her. After slipping himself out of her, Mycroft slid his body down a bit so he could rest his head on her breast. Molly's hands, almost limp again from release, came up to caress his great head.

For a long time, they just lay there like that, basking in the afterglow and in the joy of finally being one person, one flesh, truly husband and wife. The only sounds in the room was the crackling fire and their breathing. And in that time, nothing else existed in the world for the other except each other.