I think this might be the longest chapter yet. I told you that the more they get to know each other the more there will be in a chapter. I still want to do some text chapters because I really enjoy their dialogue. I hope you enjoy this. I have been planning this since almost the get go pretty much and I'm a little nervous of how it'll be received but, when it comes down to it, it's my story to write more than it is your story to read. I mean, I want my readers to be happy but I am really just trying to push Sherlock in strange directions without it seeming OOC. I am not a very sexual being so I wont be writing any lemons or limes. Plus, this is rated T. There are suggestive themes but nothing above PG 13, I don't think. Anyway, please please please review, favorite, and follow. I would really appreciate knowing that these words aren't just going into the void.
XOXO
Buzz buzz
Buzz buzz
You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power.
What power?
She was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his narrow hips. One hand was behind her, holding herself up as her lips were hungrily assaulted and nimble hands roamed her body. Her other hand was tangled in a mess of curls on the back of his head. Breath mixed. Fingers scratched.
The power of voodoo.
Who do?
She shifted her weight, letting the hand that was holding her up go into his hair too. She pressed herself against him, which he seemed to like if the low noise he produced from the back of his throat was any indicator. .
You do.
Do what?
Remind me of the babe.
The sound quickly turned into one of displeasure when Victoria pulled away after she finally registered that her phone was ringing. Sherlock pulled her back to him, his lips capturing hers in a demanding form of want. His fingers, which had been playing under the hem of her sweater, moved up and grabbed her hips roughly.
Buzz buzz
Buzz buzz
You remind me of the babe.
What babe?
"Sherlock, I should probably answer that," Victoria murmured against his lips.
"No, you shouldn't," he dismissed, his voice lower than usual.
The babe with the power.
Still the phone persisted and, now that she was aware of its ring, she did too. "It could be important."
Sherlock sighed in frustration and reached for the phone himself.
What pow-
He pressed the phone to his ear and straightened up. "What?"
"Um...Vicky?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Do I sound anything like Victoria?" He quipped crisply and looked down at the lady in question. He looked at her like she was a puzzle he had yet to solve but she was also a treat he had just been given.
"Sherlock? I've called three times. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, what do you want?" Sherlock started to inch his fingers up her sweater again, his touch slightly calloused and gentle. He had the fingers of a violin player. Victoria thought about his fingers playing the violin, his fingers playing with the erasers, his fingers flicking the lighter open and closed, his fingers touching her skin. Chills erupted across her skin.
"It's, um, well… it's Charlie. Vicky left her scarf at the restaurant and I wanted to drop it off before I headed home."
His fingers moved up her belly, her diaphragm, the end of her sternum, up to the front clasp of her bra. She didn't bother to ask how he knew her clasp was in the front and not the back. She wasn't surprised and she had other things on her mind at the moment. "You do that," Sherlock replied before hanging up the phone and tossing it back onto the counter.
"Who was that?" Victoria asked, arching her back slightly to let his hands touch her more freely.
If Victoria had ever been insecure about something, it was the size of her breasts. They were larger than average by several cup sizes and caused her a plethora of problems. Back problems, stretch marks, collar bone bruises and swelling, ridiculous bra prices, a lack of cute bra options, and, her least favorite problem, the effect gravity had on the whole situation. She was sure that she didn't look ridiculous without a bra on, but it was something she tended to be hyper aware about. Being intimate with a person that did not care about how a body looked more than the proper function and health of the body, being intimate with a person that did not believe in following society's standards, being intimate with a person that she considered her (best?) friend caused her to have no thoughts about her insecurities.
Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, but he wasn't thinking about their conversation. "A waste of time," he said in a throw away response, pulling her sweater up.
Victoria placed her hand over his, stopping his movement. He raised an inquisitive brow. "Maybe we should move to the couch?" There was something too finalizing about suggesting her bed. The couch was still neutral territory.
He rolled his eyes but stepped back, allowing her to hop off of the counter and walk into her living room.
She fidgeted with her sweater, feeling her bra get bunched up at her sides. She nibbled at her kiss swollen lips and marveled at the bizarre turn of events in her life, particularly in her evening. What did it mean to be in such a situation with Sherlock after having just broken up with her… boyfriend or whatever he was only an hour or so before? What did it mean to be in such a situation with Sherlock in general? She had never thought about Sherlock romantically and she wasn't sure if she had ever lusted over him. She hadn't lusted over him actively, at least. A large part of being sexually active with someone was being attracted to that person. Was she attracted to him? She did consider him an attractive man and if one considers someone attractive, does that mean that they are are attracted to that someone? She briefly remembered how she felt when he stared at her in her classroom...And what of how Sherlock felt?
She knew that romance was completely off the table for him, but did he lust for her or was he just lusting for lust? She didn't think that he wanted her in particular. It wasn't here that was stopping him from thinking and keeping him up at night. Still, now that she thought about it, there were moments where he seemed more interested in her sex life or her movements that normal Sherlock would usually be interested in something. So… he was becoming aware of her. Did that mean, though, that we was starting to want her or just becoming aware of a possible fix to his problem? Was there any difference? Did his pupils dilate when his body sensed her pheromones? Did his pulse change? Was he attracted to her or was he just using her for her convenience?
Were either of them different from the other?
Victoria turned to face him once she got to the couch. "Sherlock, are you attracted to me?" She asked him curiously.
Sherlock sighed in exasperation, "Honestly, Victoria, there is a difference between analysis and over analysis. If you are going to try to think like me, do try to keep up."
"But I'm not-" She started to protest but Sherlock's lips were on hers again and she soon found herself on the couch with him on top of her. The spots that they had on either side of the couch that they had specifically designated as spots for Sherlock and Victoria soon became a whole couch for them to share; there was no singularity, no space in between them.
As she reacted to his kiss and touch, several of her questions were answered. Unfortunately, several new questions began to form in their places. She decided, for that time at least, to wait until later to ask the questions, and to get lost in the moment, instead. Never had she ever gotten lost in the moment over asking questions before and there was something quite liberating about it.
She wasn't fretting about a single question of her own, but, it wasn't long after her decision to not ask questions that someone else's question interrupted her blissful ignorance and building ecstasy.
"Vicky?" The question pulled her out of her hormone induced stupor.
She pulled away from Sherlock's kiss, hissing in pleasant surprise when his teeth dragged against her lip as she pulled away. Sherlock sighed in aggravation, "Stop stopping," he practically whined. "Three times! Thrice! I am not known as being a man of patience and you are trying what little tolerance I have with your inopportune timing-"
"You get what you get and you don't throw a fit, Sherlock," Victoria announced in her teacher voice.
"I am not a five year old, Victoria," he announced back, mocking her voice.
"-and, anyway, the reasons that I had and have for stopping are all incredibly reasonable-"
"I don't waste my time with phone calls. Texting is much more efficient. Answering a phone is completely unnecessary-"
"It could have been important!"
"And was it? No. Like I said before, it was a complete waste of time."
Charlie's voice tried to break through their bickering, "Um...excuse me?"
"But you couldn't have known that it would be a waste of time or important if you hadn't have answered the phone," Victoria pointed out, moving her hand from where her hand rested on his bare chest which had become revealed by his open shirt(when had his shirt buttons become undone?) and pointing at him.
Sherlock smirked and took her hand into his, raising it up to kiss her inner wrist before replying, "But if you looked at the caller identification on your phone and realized that it was Charlie calling, you would have realized it was a waste of time without having answered the phone."
Victoria was prepared to get distracted by the kiss and get lost in the moment again when she processed what Sherlock said. "Charlie called? Why didn't you-" she looked over at the front door and saw Charlie standing there, jaw dropped and scarf in his hand. "Charlie!" She shot up on the couch, bonking her head against Sherlock's.
"Four times, you bloody woman…" Sherlock closed one eye and put his hand to his head, slowly sitting back.
Victoria quickly pulled her sweater back down to where it belonged instead of being pushed as far up as it would go without it being above her head. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly completely aware of not having her bra clasped. "Charlie," she said, her voice the perfect copy of calm and reason. "What are you doing here?"
The inevitable anger started seeping into Charlie's expression, clouding over the usual friendly expression and harmless eyes. "I knew it!" He seethed.
"You didn't know anything…" Victoria trailed off, not sure what to say to make the situation better but also not sure if she wanted to make the situation better.
"Is this the real reason why you wouldn't let me kiss you? Or… or stay the night? Or why you broke up with me? Because I was right! I called you out on your dirty little secret and you bailed...or maybe I just reminded you of what you had at home and you came back for a booty call?" Charlie was spitting as he hit the sounds in his words, he was so angry. True to his word, he found the thought of Victoria with Sherlock quite disgusting. He found the image of Victoria with Sherlock even more disgusting. He threw her scarf to the ground. "How long?"
Victoria looked at Sherlock, "What time is it?"
"How should I know?" Sherlock asked with a sigh.
Victoria gave him a pointed look.
"10:30," Sherlock answered without looking at a clock.
She looked back to Charlie, "About an hour."
Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, "Oh so I pretty much just pushed you two together, did I? That's just brilliant!" He scoffed and kicked the doorway.
Victoria turned back to Sherlock, "You knew that Charlie was coming over and you didn't think to maybe postpone our actions?" she asked him in disbelief.
Sherlock shrugged, "He's too insignificant to stop me from getting what I want."
"What about the confidentiality that you said you wanted earlier?" She rose an eyebrow.
"I'm not announcing it in Sunday's paper now, am I? Besides, this man-boy knowing is not going to affect me in the least."
Charlie looked at them both in confusion and disgust, "Well, I hope you two are happy." He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door in anger.
"Don't tell John!" Victoria called out and the slumped, "You don't suppose he heard me, do you?"
"No."
"Damn."
Victoria stood up, fishing her bra out from under her sweater as she moved. "Maybe I should just go to bed." She could feel her brain start to overload with all the information she had yet to sort out. She turned to walk to her room, pulling her hair out of the messy bun it was falling out of. She could feel Sherlock's eyes on her and she bit her lip, feeling something flutter inside of her. This could either make it or break it. Make her or break her, especially. She glanced over her shoulder and their eyes locked, "You coming?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Will you be able to mentally handle not having something to distract you and pull you away from the task at hand? I do know how you find amusement in me getting frustrated."
"I'll try my hardest." She rolled her eyes and then started walking into her room, knowing that he would follow her.