Disclaimer: Sherlock characters are not mine! If they were, Sherlolly would've been canon a while ago!
Author's Note: PLEASE review and recommend. I live off of comments! Enjoy! -Mav.
Molly moaned against him, spreading her legs slightly as his fingers continued massaging her plump flesh. Her lips found his jaw, spreading kisses over the curve, making him jump slightly when she nipped him. He slid a hand from her waist, feathering across her stomach and would have cupped her between her thighs had she not taken a step away from him. She took such great pleasure in watching him sway towards her, as if she had been the only thing him holding him upright. He looked so disheveled, his eyes alert with lust and want. She luxuriated in the knowledge that she was the reason for it, and she was just getting started.
"Tsk tsk tsk, already trying to break the rules, Mr. Holmes?" she shook her head.
"To be fair, you said I could hold you, you didn't specify where I could use your body to hold you," he told her, rolling his shoulders as if trying to get rid of the tension in them.
She laughed at that, adoring him more as her eyes traced the bulge in his trousers. She had never been this forward with any of her lovers, never this bold in anything she had ever done. But Sherlock reveled in her strength, seemed to rely on it more that she had thought. It gave her strength, knowing that whether she was eloquent or a stuttering fool, he would adore her.
Molly dropped to her knees in front of him, "now listen closely," she told him, look up at him. Sherlock was looking down at her as if he'd never seen anything like her before. The intimacy of her position, the way he was looking at her, his breathing faster as a curl fell across his forehead. She licked her lips, "unzip your fly and take your cock out. But don't drop your trousers," she instructed, wondering what was going on in his head.
He followed instruction perfectly, his fingers trembling slightly as he unbuttoned his trousers, taking out his erection, his trousers never falling. She moaned as she saw him, feeling faint as she imagined what it felt to have it in her throat, deep inside her body, his breath hot in her ear as he pumped into her… "good," she grinned, "hands back in your pocket please," she murmured, sitting back on her knees, waiting for him to follow her instructions.
"Molly," his voice was rough, his fingers curling in the air as if he was gripping her hair, "I need…to touch you."
She chuckled, putting her hands between her knees as she watched him, "not within the parameters of the experiment darling."
"Molly," he groaned her name on a tormented sigh, but he stuffed his fists back into his coat.
She rose up on her knees now, touching her tongue to the smooth head of his cock and felt his entire body shuttering. Oh how she loved this, loved that he was on the brink, how his entire body was at her mercy. And when she took him into her mouth, the noise he made would live inside her skin for the rest of her life. She watched as he threw his head back, his throat an elegant column as he moaned again, pushing himself deeper into her mouth.
Molly took as much of him as she could, savoring him, using her tongue to tease him, her teeth to make him jump. She gripped his thighs to keep herself balanced as she rose up on her knees to get a better angle, heard his moans, her name a whisper.
"Let me touch you," he groaned in desperation, his voice several octaves deeper than normal, the jaguar slowly purring his way out of the cello, "please let me tough you my Molly," his voice was so deep now that his words were garbled.
She smiled against him, stroking him with her hands, "not yet my love," she told him, pressing open mouth kisses against his shaft, "not just yet."
Opening her mouth, she swallowed as much of him as she could handle and he jumped, words leaving him faster than he could contain them, "my love, my darling," he moaned, "my Molly, let me...oh let me touch you. I will die if you don't let me. Oh, my Molly…"
In his lucid moments, he never used any terms of endearment beyond the occasional darling sprinkled into conversation. "Darling" was her reward for pleasing him, but this…this was something else entirely. This was Sherlock, becoming unhinged as she pleasured him with her mouth and hands, her tongue and throat.
And she was dying to let him touch her, dying to feel those elegant fingers entangled in her hair, stroking her skull as he took what she gave him. But she knew them too well, knew that if she let him, they would both become unhinged. In order for this "experiment" to succeed, she needed at least one of them to have some sense of control.
"Soon my love," her breath was a hot whisper against his thick flesh, "not just yet," she grinned.
He looked down at her, his eyes glowing with desire, his lips moist and delicious. In that moment, Molly wished she was an artist, a painter, so that she could capture the lust in his eyes, the look of utter desperation, of glowing hot desire. His eyes shocked her with their intensity, a few of his curls loose and framing his gorgeous face, a high sheen on his luxurious cheekbones. Her own desire gripped her as she smiled up at him, a tight fist of want low in her belly, making her shiver in anticipation.
"My beautiful Sherlock," she whispered, part of her in this moment, tasting him, reveling in the taste of him while another part of her marveled at how they had gotten there. The desperation, the secret love she had felt for him all those years had brought here. Somehow, she had survived, somehow she had found enough resilience to get to this point. Somehow, the universe smiled down upon her, and this amazing man was in love with her.
"Molly…" something in his voice got her attention, she looked up at him again to see his eyes had become alert, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. There was panic on his face, he was blinking rapidly, and her heart sank. "Molly," he said her name again, take a step back.
"Sherlock? What's wrong? What is it?" she was convinced she had done something wrong, something he didn't like. She reached out for his hand but he waved her away, quickly stuffing his erection back into his trousers. "What happened?" she stood up, ignorant of her own state of nudity, terrified as the panic in his eyes grew.
"I can't do this," his voice was hoarse as he walked backwards to her bedroom door, "I…I…I can't do this, I have to go," he stammered, running both hands through his hair as he walked through her bedroom door. She saw the shimmer of tears in those gorgeous eyes, reflecting the moonlight outside, "I can't."
And he was gone.
She stood there for a while, completely naked, wondering what had happened, what had gone wrong. Her body was in a state of shock at that point, having been so aroused, and so convinced she would spend the night in his arms…she started shivering earnestly, at last noticing the tears that began to stream down her cheeks.
She walked towards her bed, her fingers shaking as she got her phone out of the drawer in her nightstand. Molly had trouble typing, forcing herself to take deep breaths:
John, can you plz go to 221B? SH needs u
-MH
John responded within a few minutes:
OMW. U ok?
-JW
She responded with trembling fingers that she was fine, and turned off her phone before tossing it back into the drawer. She wrapped a blanket around her naked body, going through her flat and turning off all the lights, making sure her doors and windows were properly locked. She didn't even bother turning on the lights in the bathroom as she took a shower, standing under the hot stream until her skin turned pink. She crawled into bed naked and wet, falling into the deep sleep of heartbreak and trauma.
Author's Note: Oh Sherlock...
