Sherlock wandered the New York Public Library as he tried, truly tried to focus on something, anything besides the thought of the woman he loved in their hotel room without him. Why can't I just admit to her that I'm in love with her? What's stopping me?
Nothing, he realized. Absolutely nothing. Galvanized, he left the library then walked back to their hotel. Finding Molly asleep made him want to join her, and the creeping jet lag didn't help. Stripping down to his pants, he gingerly climbed into bed next to her. He watched her for a moment then reached out to lightly stroke her hair. She sighed in her sleep and Sherlock's arms ached to hold her. Deciding that touching a sleeping woman was ungentlemanly, he gave in to a sudden wave of fatigue and fell asleep.
"Um, Sherlock?"
He woke to find his nose buried in Molly's sweet-smelling hair, his arm around her, and his hand cupping her breast. Oh shit… He slowly, reluctantly moved away. "Sorry."
She turned to face him, her cheeks flaming and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "What was that about?" she whispered.
Sherlock smiled a bit. "You can speak up, Molly. No one's going to hear us unless we yell." Or scream in pleasure, but something tells me that won't happen anytime soon. "As to why I was touching you, it's hard to control your impulses when you're asleep."
Molly finally met his eyes, her own huge. "You're saying you wanted to touch me?"
"Yes," he murmured, "and not just because you're a warm body in bed with me." We're here, I might as well go for it. "I've wanted to touch you for a long time, Molly."
She quickly turned away then got out of bed, her voice quiet and hurt. "I can see there's no point in trying to talk to you, Sherlock. All you do is make jokes, and cruel ones at that."
"Jokes?" he asked, surprised. I guess there's no hiding it now. Throwing back the covers, he got out of bed then gently grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him. "Does this," he gestured to the tent his cock was making in the front of his pants, "look like I'm joking?"
Molly stared at it, her cheeks flaming anew, then she raised her eyes to his. "But I thought … I thought…"
"You thought wrong," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you," he grinned, "and I've loved you since the first time you corrected my writing."
"Then why didn't you say anything?" she murmured as she returned his embrace.
"Several reasons, none of which are important right now." He pressed his forehead to hers, smiling a bit. "Is there something you wanted to tell me, Molly?"
She smirked. "Yes, you missed your latest deadline."
He chuckled as he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. "I was thinking something of a more … intimate nature."
"Mmm…" She tilted her head to give him better access. "Oh – your next royalty check is going to be huge."
Sherlock lifted his head to smirk at her. "That's not the only thing." He pressed his cock against her abdomen, delighting in her soft gasp. "Say it, Molly," he murmured.
"Say what?" she whispered, gazing up at him.
"Say you love me. Say you want me." He murmured in her ear, "Say you'll let me worship you the way a goddess made flesh deserves."
Molly shivered then she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I love you, Sherlock, more than I can say. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone. And I'll only let you worship me if I can worship you right back."
He grinned at her. "Deal." He quickly divested himself of his pants and her of her cami and shorts then he took a step back, just drinking her in. "You, Molly Hooper, are a work of art. Helen of Troy herself couldn't compare to you."
Molly giggled. "So, that makes mine the face that launched two thousand ships?"
"Mmm, more like the face that launched two thousand pricks. Or maybe just one prick, two thousand times."
"Sherlock!" She was pretending to be shocked but her eyes were dancing.
"What about me? Do I meet with your approval?" he asked, spreading his arms and turning in a slow circle.
Molly looked him over and he could see she was trying hard to keep a straight face. "I must say, Sherlock Holmes, you are the finest specimen of manhood I've ever seen." She reached out to grasp his cock in her strong, delicate hand as she murmured, "And your manhood is the finest specimen I've ever seen."
A sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan escaped him. "God, I love you…" he murmured breathlessly as she stroked him.
"I want to taste you," she murmured, her thumb rubbing the tip.
He moaned quietly then gently pulled her hand away and raised it to his lips, kissing her palm. "Next time, sweetheart. I can barely control myself as it is."
"There's going to be a next time?" she asked softly.
"I hope you're only asking that to be cute," he murmured, "because you should already know the answer."
Molly beamed at him. "Say it anyway."
"There are going to be many, many times after this," he murmured. "I plan to have you every moment I can while we're on this trip, then once we're back in London, I plan to ask you to move in with me."
She laughed softly. "You do realize you said that out loud, right?"
Sherlock smirked. "I know you hate surprises." He slowly ran his large hands up and down her sides, making her shiver. "Now," he murmured, "how do you want this?"
"From behind. But, um, don't pull my hair, I hate that."
"I wouldn't dream of causing you discomfort, Molly." He gestured to the bed.
Molly climbed onto the bed then got on her hands and knees, spreading her knees wide. She felt the mattress shift as Sherlock got on the bed then knelt behind her. His large hands roamed over the curves of her bum and hips and he murmured in appreciation.
"I'm clean," she said, "and I'm on the pill."
"I'm clean too. It's been … too many years to count since I was with someone, I never found sex as interesting or fulfilling as writing." He leaned over to softly kiss her shoulder blade.
"And now?" she murmured.
"Now," he said, positioning himself at her entrance, "I'm going to miss a few more deadlines." His tip slid into her dripping, aching cunt. "But I think my editor will forgive me."
Molly groaned quietly. "I'll forgive you even faster if you just shut up and fuck me…"
He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am." He slid the rest of the way inside her, his long, thick cock stretching her like no man had before.
Clutching the sheet, she gasped in pleasure as he filled her completely. "Oh God, Sherlock…"
"Fuck, Molly," he gasped. "You were made for me. So tight, so wet…" He started to thrust slow and deep, his hands grasping her hips.
"Faster…" she murmured. "Harder…"
"As my lady commands," Sherlock murmured. He started to pound into her, the pleasure of it soon sending her over the edge.
He followed her a moment later, his shout loud enough that the people in the next room were knocking on the wall.
Molly grinned at him once she'd caught her breath. "Maybe we should be quieter next time."
Sherlock chuckled as he pulled out then laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Or, maybe we should be loud so often that they get used to it."
"I think that would be a good way to get us kicked out," she replied, giggling.
He grinned at her. "Shall we test that theory?"
"In a bit." She softly kissed his neck. "I'm going to need another fortnight off by the time we get back to London."
Sherlock grinned delightedly. "Mmm, sounds like a plan."