Excellent! We're really moving along, aren't we? Just an FYI, my youngest son is starting online learning this week (with me as his instructor) AND I'm starting a parttime job tomorrow. If posting slows, you know why. Thanks for all the encouragement and support.
No warnings for this chapter, but I will caution that attempting to have just about any kind of sex whilst laid up in bed with a gunshot wound is a bad idea...Not that Sherlock cares about that...
Fun fact! My sister once went to a house party with John Cougar Mellencamp's brother. True story!
I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~
Chapter 13 - Hurts So Good (John Cougar Mellencamp)
The dream was forgotten, or replaced was more like, by yet another much more interesting dream. This one involved his naked wife and an activity they'd yet to engage in.
Sherlock woke up hard and damn near miserable. His leg hurt, of course; it burned like the devil and he was in need of another pain pill. But it was the least of his worries, if he was being honest. His back was stiff and sore from having slept in the same position all night. And then there was his cock; it ached for release as he recalled feasting on Molly's quim in his dream. He also needed the loo.
Damn…
Just as he was contemplating all of his various miseries and what to do about them, the cause of one of them walked into the room. Freshly showered and wrapped in his burgundy dressing gown, Molly carried a glass of water and a steaming cup of tea.
"Thought I heard you groan," she said, a worried look on her face. "You want your pill now or after the loo?"
Sherlock thought about it before answering, "Loo, tea then pill, I think."
With a nod, she moved to the bed and helped him stand. Wearing only a pair of thin boxers, it was impossible to hide his morning problem. Molly seemed not to notice; he had hoped that she would.
After a short, frustrating (pissing with a hard-on was never fun) trip to the bathroom, she escorted him back to the bedroom. Once he was seated, she held out his pill.
"Not quite yet, Molly," he said, having formulated a plan during the trek down the hall and back. "Could I get a back rub? It hurts more than my leg." He reached for his tea and took a large drink.
She seemed confused. "Why not just take the pill?"
"They make me sleepy, but don't do much for pain," he explained, working toward his goal.
One hand on her hip, she said, "Then you'll be asleep and not in pain."
"You know as well as I do that sleep does not equal painless. Besides, sleeping is what hurt my back." She raised a questioning eyebrow. "I sleep on my left side, Molly. As of right now, I must sleep on my back. It's… stiff." And it was, as was his cock (though somewhat less than before his trip to the bathroom).
With a dubious, narrowed-eye glare, she set the pill on the bedside locker and motioned for him to scoot forward. After she sat down behind him, she asked, "Where does it hurt?"
Between my legs, he thought. "My entire back is sore but it's worse in my lumbar triangle."
"Mmhmm..."
Though she hummed sceptially, she put her warm little hands on his lower back and kneaded, drawing a contented moan from him. "Perfect."
The problem lay in convincing Molly that he was well enough for any kind of sexual activity. He wasn't, of course, but his dick didn't care a little thing like a fresh wound. If he managed to make her feel like his erection was entirely her fault (which it was… Dream Molly and her delicious cunt had left him wanting!) then he'd be more likely to talk her into playing.
I am a bastard, he thought as her hands moved up his spine. "God, Molly…" he moaned.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Perhaps you're just an exceptional nurse," he said with a chuckle. "I could send out for a uniform. It would make convalescence much more interesting." Molly giggled in return. Good, she's loosening up.
Her leg was cushioned next to his hip, and after about five minutes of her tender yet effective massage, Sherlock nudged his dressing gown off of her leg, lightly brushing her curiously smooth skin.
Her hands stilled. "Sherlock," She shivered. "Whatcha doing?"
Nice try, Molly, but if you weren't interested in playing why did you just shave your legs? "We've got a situation, wife."
She didn't speak immediately. He knew that she would get his meaning by the use of her title. "Ah, what kind of… situation?"
"Give me your hand," he instructed.
"Sherlock…"
"Husband," he corrected. "And give me your hand." She still hesitated, but finally presented him with her right hand. He drew it up, laying a soft kiss on the palm. "Good girl." Pressing it flat against his stomach, just above the waistband of his pants, he said, "Go ahead."
Molly slowly inched her hand under the cloth until she found his erection, causing Sherlock to sigh loudly. She stroked him a few times and he had to admit that there was something delicious about seeing her hand moving up and down, obscured by the fabric. He didn't always wear pants but was currently enjoying the loose boxer's role in their activity.
Very quickly though, Sherlock realised that Molly's intentions were to bring him to a swift end. He couldn't have that; he was the one in charge here. Reaching for her wrist, he stalled her movements. "Stand, wife, and remove the gown."
She huffed, but stood nevertheless. It had been less than a week and she was already beautifully accustomed to following his instructions.
As the dressing gown fell to the floor, Sherlock plotted. He knew what he wanted, but could he manage it? The better question was could he talk Molly into it? She was pliant in the bedroom, but her concern for his well being would override her submissive tendencies, he was sure of it. He'd have to get her distracted before making his demands.
"Go to the top drawer," he motioned to the dresser to his right. "You'll find a small box. Bring it over here." His leg still stung, but wasn't so painful that he couldn't manage. The pain in his back was all but gone.
Molly returned with her little box, holding it out to him. "Open it," he instructed. She did, eyes widening as she peered inside. "Take out the pink one. Then put the box on the bedside table."
Locking eyes with him, Molly picked up the modest sized pink dildo, then placed the box next to him on the table. Her breathing had picked up and he was certain that he could smell the hint of arousal coming off of her.
He patted the other side of the bed. "Come, wife. And follow my directions to the letter."
Though she narrowed her eyes, she walked around the foot of the bed. "Get into a comfortably submissive pose." He wondered what she'd choose.
Climbing in on the other side, she paused for a moment as she considered her options. They hadn't talked about poses, but he knew she'd done her homework. Finally making her decision, she said, "You do remember that you were released from hospital less than 24 hours ago, right?" as she settled on her knees.
"I seem to have a faint memory of it, yes."
"You never did tell me what happened, by the way." It was oddly sexy to watch his wife speak so casually whilst kneeling on his bed, completely naked. "You got the murderer, I assume?"
She was being a bit defiant, trying to insert mundane chit-chat into playtime, but he decided to let it slide. "Move closer." After she had scooted towards him, yet not close enough to touch, he said, "Within reach, wife," in a reproachful voice.
With a roll of her eyes, she moved to his side, her left knee touching his left hip. "Is this good enough, husband?" she asked as she folded her arms across her chest. Her attempt at defiance was somewhat hindered by the fact that she still held a bright pink dildo in her right hand but she kept a petulant frown on her face the entire time.
She'd never been openly bratty with him. This could be fun. At the very least diverting. Maybe two weeks of 'bedrest' wouldn't be so bad afterall. If only he had the strength to show her just how little bratty subs were properly dealt with. "Try to keep in mind, Molly, I won't be bound to this bed forever," he warned with a raised eyebrow. She straightened and dropped her arms. "Are you comfortable?"
"For now," she replied, then hastily added, "husband."
Sherlock nodded. "Spread your legs wider, pet. Tell me if your knees start to hurt." He patted her thigh once she had complied. "If you're a good girl I'll give you a special treat." Nevermind that it's just as much of a treat for myself. "Understand?"
Molly bit her bottom lip, struggling with something, she fought the urge to speak her mind. She clearly understood the shift in dynamic.
"Say it, Molly, before you explode."
"You're not supposed to be doing… anything, much less…"
"It's a fleshwound."
"Yes, but it's still a wound, Sherlock!"
He was a bit surprised at her adamance. She had seemed fairly relaxed about his injury (it was minor, after all), but suddenly he could see just how much the events of the last 24 hours had affected her. Knowing Molly, she'd be much more at ease after hearing what actually happened, but that would have to wait.
"Be very good for me and I'll tell you all about it after."
"You'll be careful?"
"Of course, wife. I certainly don't want to prolong my recovery." She nodded. "Are you wet at all?"
Shaking her head to the negative, she said, "No, husband." There was a hint of shame in her voice.
"Can't have that." As he softly caressed her thigh an idea struck him. Smirking, he said, "You heard me, didn't you, wife?" A slight inhale of breath was her only response. "The other morning, you heard me pleasuring myself." Eyes wide and dilated, she nodded her head. "I require verbal answers, Molly, you know this."
Nervously fiddling with the phallus in her hand, she said, "I did, husband." A lovely blush spread across her cheeks.
"That was very naughty, listening to me when I didn't know you were there…"
"I had no idea...!" she started to defend herself.
"Nevertheless, if I were well enough you'd be on the receiving end of one hell of a bottom blistering." Her face went from pink to damn near red. Sherlock repressed the desire to laugh outright. "You're a lucky girl, Molly."
"I know, sir." Biting her lip, she averted her eyes.
Sir? Hmmm… "Turn around. I want you on all fours, young lady."
Without delay, Molly got onto her hands and knees, her exposed quim pointing directly at him. The effect was immediate. His erection went from mostly hard to something akin to a steel pipe in seconds.
Perfect. Sherlock raised a hand and found that she was just out of reach. "Move closer, pet."
Scooting back, his wife put her pussy within touching distance, then asked, "Am I close enough, husband?"
He answered by dipping a finger into her core. She was wetter than he'd expected. "Call me 'sir' this time."
She sucked in a breath.
"Feel good?"
Molly grunted, "Yes, sir!" and started pushing back against his hand.
"You want more?"
"Please."
Adding another finger, he obliged, letting his thumb roll over her hard little nub. "If you want something, sweet girl, all you have to do is ask, you know."
"Come, sir. I wanna come!"
Already? I think not. He was enjoying her desperation far too much. "Still have your toy, pet?" he asked in a sugary voice.
Humping his hand, she answered, "Right here," and held it up on the air.
"Good girl." He removed his fingers, causing Molly to make a high-pitched whine. Letting the wet digits graze her thigh, he patted her bottom. "You're wet enough now, darling, I want to see you use that. Careful, though," he warned. "You haven't earned that orgasm just yet."
The pink phallus appeared between her legs. She rubbed it over her clit first, then dragged it through her folds before sliding it home. It was nowhere as big as him, but slightly bigger than two of his fingers. Molly rocked back, her hips moving as she slowly fucked herself on the piece of latex and his cock got somehow harder.
He shoved his pants down to mid-thigh, ignoring the pain caused when the elastic touched his bandaged wound, and gripped himself. Not yet! he growled internally, holding onto the base of his dick in hopes of wrestling it into submission.
Out of nowhere, Sherlock felt an intense surge of jealousy. Ridiculous! Pushing away his sudden hatred of Molly's toy, he focused on watching his wife tease herself. His view was spectacular. With every thrust of the dildo, she got wetter, enough for him to hear the beautiful squelch of her juices upon reentry. The toy itself was drenched in no time.
Oh, how he wanted to be that fucking dildo.
"Tell me what you want, pet." He kept his voice as even as possible - not wanting her to know how desperate he was - and tried to infuse it with warmth and caring.
"Please… ah, sir! Can I come?"
"May I come, precious," he corrected with a sadistic grin. "And no, you may not."
Molly growled and slowed the dildo even more. It was time.
Reaching for the phallus, he pulled it out and placed it on the bedside locker. "Crawl up here and let me take care of you," he crooned.
His wife turned, obviously confused. "Up on what?" Her eyes moved to his cock, watching as he stroked himself.
What the hell was he waiting for; clearly she wanted it as badly as he did. There was something to be said for the build-up, however. He'd yet to decide when they would take that particular step in their relationship, but he knew it wouldn't be when he was laid up from a gunshot wound.
"Straddle my face, Molly." He scooted lower in the bed and yanked the two pillows out from under his head, tossing them to the floor. "Hold onto the headboard." Lust and anticipation thankfully overrode the pain that shot up his leg as he moved.
Licking her lips, she started to crawl forward, inching slowly closer. Just as she was about to lift her leg she stopped. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt your…"
"You won't be touching my leg, pet. Let me take care of you.".
Finally, she got into position with one leg on either side of his head, her swollen, wet sex just over his face. What was I waiting for…? he wondered as he pulled her closer, letting his tongue graze her outer lips. Molly's breath hitched and Sherlock looked up to find her gripping the slatted wooden headboard with white knuckles.
"Look at this messy little cunny," he said in a husky voice before tugging her even closer and nipping at her damp thigh. "I'm going to clean you all up, wife."
Molly grasped then moaned.
Distantly wondering if her reaction was for his words or his actions, he turned his attention to her folds, drinking up her honey, not letting a drop go to waste. Though he had tasted her on his fingers and hers on several occasions, that was nothing compared to drinking directly from the source. He worked his tongue from her clit to her perineum, then back. When he reached her entrance, he pulled her even closer, slipping his tongue inside her tight passage.
"God!"
He teased her, working her from the inside, and very soon she was humping his face. Sherlock wondered for a moment if he could make her come from a good tongue fucking. Using his hands to change her position, he nudged her clit with his nose and Molly started begging.
"Please, sir! I'm so close!" One of her hands found his hair, holding him tightly in place. "I need… Please!"
Releasing his tight grip on her thigh, he reached lower, closing his right hand around his cock. Oh, this wasn't going to take long. He slowly stroked himself as he urged her up an inch or two so that he could take a breath and issue his next demand.
After gulping in a lungful of air, he said, "Now, wife! I want to taste you as you come in my mouth!"
Molly was too far gone to even consider disobeying the man underneath her. After issuing his order, Sherlock tugged her back down and devoured her in earnest. God, it felt like he had several tongues lapping at her at once. As he sucked her clit into his mouth, she cried out, her world narrowing down to the sensations coming from her centre, radiating out to nearly every part of her body.
Not five seconds later, she felt something wet hit her back. She was confused until Sherlock pushed her up just enough to gasp and call out her name. He really likes coming on my back, she thought distantly as she steadied herself on the headboard.
Her legs were weak and a bit sore from the strain of the position. He hadn't told her she could move, so she stayed put. Sherlock let out a few more gasping breaths, then tugged her back down. His tongue was back on her - in her, cleaning her, carefully avoiding her over-sensitive clitoris. He took his time, seemingly enjoying his work, humming as he tongued her folds.
A pat on her bottom alerted her that he was done, so she moved once again, lifting herself off of his face. When she looked down the sight she found was absolutely sinful: his face was wet with her fluids and slightly red, but his smile… God! His smile made Molly want to kiss him madly. Beautiful, smug bastard.
"That…" She paused, trying to find the right words but there weren't words for what she'd just experienced. Giving up on articulating herself, she moved to his side.
Still smiling like a fool, Sherlock said, "I have to agree." He chuckled. "I'll have to ask you to help me with your aftercare this time, pet."
Molly nodded, her eye immediately moving to his leg. She gasped when she saw that blood had soaked through the bandages.
"Calm down, Molly. It was just the increase in my blood pressure. It's not reinjured."
She got up and moved around the bed to get a closer look.
As she reached for the bandages, Sherlock spoke, "Stop, wife. First things first." He motioned towards her naked body. "Go to the bathroom and get me two wet flannels."
When Molly returned, Sherlock was sitting up. Patting the space next to him, he smirked. "Let me see your back, pet."
He was clearly intent on cleaning her, so she obliged and felt him wiping his seed off of her. Once finished, she stood, her eyes instantly back on his injury. "Can I tend to…"
Nodding his head, he used the other flannel to clean his hand stomach and chest. "Go fetch you supplies, nurse. When you're finished I'll need the loo again." She turned to leave, but was stopped by Sherlock once again. "Also, I'm a bit hungry. And since you were so good, I'll tell you about the case whilst we eat." He winked.
Oh, that cheeky little...! So, what do we think about 'sick Sherlock' and his trickery? Thanks for reading. Why don't you hit that review button and make Lil smile?
Next up, breakfast and The Case of the Uncoordinated Uni Dropout. ~Lil~
