Here's your Friday afternoon sweetie. I hope you like it.

Polyamory. There's no other word for it.

In which Molly gets an explanation for the previous evening,

but that's not all she gets.

Molly Walks In – II - Morning After

Molly woke and slipped out of Sherlock's arms as he slept. She trotted out to the loo as quietly as possible. When she came back, she heard soft male murmuring from the hallway and she smiled to herself. She couldn't hear what they were saying to one another, but she was happy to have them awake, because now she would get to hear what had happened the night before. And maybe they could get a little morning something going on before she had to get ready for work. She slipped into the darkened room.

Molly's eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness in the room again, the pre-dawn light was just beginning, and she saw that the two men were now on opposite sides of the bed and there was a bit of room between them. She crawled up between the two with her back to Sherlock, putting her arms around John's neck.

"Johnny, Johnny, what happened while I was gone, hmm?" She asked teasingly, kissing him, and rubbing against him.

"Nothing, nothing," John demured, responding to her, but seeming to go a bit shy.

"Tell me Sherlock," Molly managed to turn her head to Sherlock behind her, who had already worked his hands up inside Molly's nightie, rucking it up around her waist and gently kneading her nipples between his fingers. He managed to kiss her as she turned to him before he spoke.

"Well, perhaps it was a small step, but it was not insignificant. Oh, Molly it was not nothing."

"Tell me." Molly was humming her appreciation to John's kisses, now.

"Well, John had gone to bed and was sitting awake when I put my trousers in the doorway for you to find."

"Mmm." Molly was kissing John, and she could feel him smiling against her skin in the dark. "So, John didn't take them off you?"

"Oh, no, no, but wait for it, darling. I got into bed, and I was a perfect gentleman, keeping my distance, all politeness and we lay quietly for some moments and John said, and I quote, 'all right!' I was shocked. Hmm, hmm, scandalized."

John chuckled against Molly's skin.

"Did you John? How lovely and generous of you." Molly felt John hum his assent against her neck as he continued kissing her. She felt him put his arms around her, but they went all the way behind her, and he must have been stroking Sherlock, because the only hands on her now were Sherlock's as they pressed and kneaded her breasts. Sherlock's erection was pressing against her thigh, making her swivel and buck her hips backward. Oo, she thought, if I could just tip my hips backward another few inches I could capture him, and he could slide right in.

"Then," Sherlock continued, "I said ' 'all right,' what, John?' and he said, and I quote, 'you can.' 'You can,' Molly! Then he qualified that by saying something along the lines of 'same as last time, same rules,' or something, 'agreed?' Haha. Then he said I should take it slowly and that I was a little, what did you say, John? Overpowering? No, 'overwhelming,' he said.

"Did you John? Oh, John. I wish I had been here." Molly heard John laugh a little and humm his assent as he sucked and licked her breasts, licking and sucking Sherlock's fingers, in turn as he found them.

"You're here now, sweetheart, that's what matters," John purred a little smugly.

"And did you, Sherlock? Did you overwhelm him?"

"No, I opted for a quieter approach, and sort of draped myself across his chest and put my arms around him. He was surprised. I could tell you were surprised, John. I suppose he thought I would attack him again. Then I asked him a question. I said 'Must I always ask permission?' and Molly, do you know what he said?

"N-, no, Sherlock, wh-, what did he say?" Molly was gasping and trembling now, as John slipped two fingers between her legs and was exploring her, investigating her outer folds, her degree of wetness, her readiness, her openness, her heat.

"Oh, Molly," Sherlock whispered hot and wet against her neck, but loud enough for John to still be part of the conversation. "He said I needn't ask permission, I must assume he meant for gentle touching and holding. He didn't say that part, but I think have that right. I think he'll tell me if I'm incorrect. Hmm, I seem to have it right, then. I needn't ask permission to gently touch or hold him."

"Oh, that's lovely," said Molly, but neither man knew if she'd said it in response to what Sherlock was telling her, or in response to John's fingers which had entered her and were slowly thrusting in and out of her as he moved his thumb over her clit. Sherlock smiled.

"Yes, it is, Molly, very lovely indeed, but then, unbidden, John put his arms around me, and started stroking my hair."

"Oh, John." Molly's voice trembled as her vowels were drawn out to the breaking point. Sherlock slowly put three of his fingers in Molly's mouth, and she sucked them, laving them with her tongue, covering them all over with her saliva.

"Yes, Molly, but then he stopped for a moment, and I asked him not to, that is, not to stop, if he didn't mind. And he continued. And he said something, oh yes, he said he hadn't meant to stop. And he continued stroking my hair, running his fingers through it. It was very, very - lovely. Then I turned my head to face him. And Molly, darling, our faces were suddenly quite close. And he stopped again, but then, Molly, he stroked my cheek and brushed the hair out of my eyes, and then continued to touch my hair and he asked me – oh, god, he asked me if I were all right."

"Mmm," was all Molly could say as she continued to suck on Sherlock's fingers, and John's fingers were thrusting harder and harder in her as she grasped harder and harder at him with her inner muscles, her arms around his neck.

"I said to him, 'you're touching me.'" Sherlock continued. "And he asked if it were ok, and I tried to tell him how lovely it was, but I don't know if I communicated it very well, how very lovely it was for him to touch me like that. It made me feel – safe. I felt safe, John," Sherlock finished.

"Yes, I felt safe, too," John murmured, but loudly enough for Sherlock to hear.

"Mmm," Molly said again, her sound muffled now by John's mouth as he kissed her. Molly felt Sherlock's wet fingers tracing down her spine, pressing between her buttocks and entering her puckered hole, gently but firmly thrusting in. Sherlock gave up his narrative in favor of finding a rhythm of thrusting into Molly at the same time as John. They established a pace, and Sherlock felt John reach a hand past Molly's shoulder toward him, grasping the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock was still holding Molly to him with one hand, but managed to lock eyes with John as the two men rocked their hands against her before and behind.

Then John removed his hand from inside Molly and grasped her upper knee, pulling it up over his hip, then he pressed his erection into her, gently at first and then harder, keeping pace still with Sherlock's thrusting. Molly and John rolled together then, placing John on his back, allowing Molly to sit up and rock and roll against him. Sherlock let Molly go, and was rubbing his face over John's chest, tonguing and biting his nipples.

"Do you see, Molly?" Sherlock looked up and smiled as he watched her struggle to her climax, her face red her hair in her face. "Do you see what he lets me do now?"

"Oh, god," Molly said aloud to no one in particular, "I'm close, darling, please, please –."

Sherlock ran his hand down John's flank, between his and his wife's legs, and cupped John's testicles in his hand, stroking them, caressing them.

"Sherlock," John hissed at the contact. "Molly, darling, come on me, please, darling come on me now,"

"Oh, John," Molly started her deep grunting and uncontrollable bucking with which Sherlock had become well familiar. She finally stiffened, moaning loudly, her spasms slowly ebbing out of her, and she collapsed into John's arms. Then she felt Sherlock's arms around her waist, hauling her up onto her knees, pulling her hips toward him, spreading her knees apart and entering her, pumping into her hard and fast.

As Sherlock pumped into Molly, he made eye contact with John who was sitting up watching his wife and friend. John slowly took his length in his hand and Sherlock looked as John touched himself, gently stroking himself as he watched.

"No, John, wait for me, wait - just a moment." Sherlock picked up his pace fucking Molly and came quickly, gripping her waist with one arm, gripping the back of her neck with the other. As quickly as he had hauled her off John, Sherlock abandoned her, and crawled to where John lay, taking his cock in his mouth, sucking him until John moaned his release, emptying himself onto Sherlock's waiting tongue.

Molly crawled to Sherlock and forced his mouth open with hers, plunging her tongue into his mouth to taste John's ejaculate.

"That's mine you know," Molly admonished Sherlock.

"Only by law," Sherlock smiled, slipping two fingers inside her. His other arm was still gripping John around the waist.

"Oh, god – that was - ." John stirred, rubbing his face with a hand, the other he ran through Sherlock's curls.

"See, Molly, this is what he did." Sherlock arranged himself as he had been when John and he had had their moment and John put his arms around his friend. "I held him like this, and he – that's right John, he stroked my hair like this. And he let me fall asleep on his chest like that, stroking my hair the whole time."

"Mmm, lovely." Molly smiled as she watched the re-enactment of the previous night.

"Did I leave you hanging a little, Molly hmm? Did I abandon you a little too quickly?" Sherlock asked, alternately speaking, and gently tonguing one of John's nipples, then biting him tenderly.

"Come here, let me look at you, let me touch you." Sherlock licked his lips.

Molly complied, slipping her hips toward Sherlock, opening her legs to him.

"Here, put your leg here, yes," Sherlock draped one of her legs across John's. Then he stroked the insides of her thighs, and gently fingered her damp folds.

"Yes, put your other leg, yes, spread them as wide as you can, love, let John see."

John was just coming back to himself when he heard his name. He turned his head and was treated to an ample view of his wife's considerable attractions. She smiled at him, and he saw her look from his face to Sherlock and back again, obviously hungry for both of them to look at her and touch her. John reached out and, with a little re-arrangement, was able to touch her as well. Molly breathed a deep breath and grasped her breasts, rolling her own nipples between her fingers, scratching them with her nails. She closed her eyes, trying to discern which fingers belonged to whom, as the two men touched her between her legs.

Molly felt a thumb dip into her, then smooth over her clit, rubbing gently. Who's that? She wondered? The hand seemed somewhat more practiced, less hesitant, and she thought it might be Sherlock. Then she felt a hand running up her thigh. John, she knew. His fingers gently stroked her lips, then pushed into her, two fingers at first, then three, and thrust a few times before he removed them, trailing her wetness across her skin. Then she felt herself being parted by two sets of fingers. Keeping her eyes closed, she could feel one set of fingers working with the other in tandem in silent agreement, opening her, exposing her deeper pinker skin to the view of the two men. She loved the feeling of being held open, being gazed at by her men. She opened her eyes and looked at their faces, rapt with the vision of her. John looked up and made eye contact with her.

"Hello, sweetheart. When was the last time I told you how beautiful you are?" John fairly purred at her. She smiled and shimmied her hips to get closer and within the reach of both men. She saw them look at one another, and then she felt two fingers sink into her and she knew one was Sherlock's and the other was John's. They thrust into her together a little out of rhythm the one with the other, and they slowed. She looked again, and they were grinning.

"Oh, my god," Molly breathed, "Don't for god's sake – don't stop now!" She couldn't help but close her eyes again, just taking in the incredible sensation of being completely open and on display, feeling the assault of their combined hands on her and in her. They resumed thrusting into her, adding more fingers. She starting bucking against their hands, and then, she felt the hands recede.

"Wh-, what?"

"Nothing, love," she heard John say, "We just want to see you suffer a little."

Molly whimpered, and ground her hips, shimmying closer, bucking and writhing in the sheets.

"Please, please-." She complained.

"Oh, so lovely," Sherlock breathed. She felt the two hands open her again, and one set of fingers entered her, while another swirled around her clit, and she gasped. Then she felt a third set of fingers on her, and she cried out as more fingers were entered into her, probing, thrusting. Finally, one of the hands, wet with her juices, lifted out of her, and probing lower, pressed a digit into her tighter opening. She lifted her hips as she felt the adventurous hand seek her other hole, and pressed herself forward, opening slightly, accepting the penetration with a little cry.

Molly's eyes were closed again, and she tried to sort out what was happening visually in her mind. There were fingers inside her, fingers on her clit and fingers deep in her bum and all were thrusting, teasing and twisting in her. Suddenly she felt hot breath on her thigh and then a tongue tentatively and then much less reservedly press against her clit. Who is it, who's doing that? She struggled for comprehension, but it didn't matter it was so incredibly and unreservedly good. Then suddenly, insanely, she felt two mouths, two tongues lapping at her and she had to open her eyes.

Two heads bobbed between her legs, bobbing back and forth in what seemed to be an orderly rhythmic arrangement. She rolled her hips slightly against their mouths, but ultimately had to challenge herself to hold completely still and let them do what they were trying to do, drive her off the edge. She ended up in a compromise. She held her hips still, but pulsed with her gluts forward and back ever so slightly, pressing her sex against the mouths and fingers that were now bringing closer and closer to the end.

She looked for a moment as they worked in tandem, and wondered how much contact they were making with one another? Surely their tongues, their mouths were touching from time to time as they - Suddenly her face and neck went hot and the order of the world was a chaos. Seemingly without any warning she was spasming out of control, bucking her hips and growling. She arched her back spewing out a lot of nonsense including but not exclusively 'oh, god, John, Sherlock, fuck, fuck, fuck!' She felt both sets of hands and both mouths pick up their pace, thrusting deeper, twisting more unpredictably and lapping with more enthusiasm as the world behind her closed eyes shattered and went white and then black.

After the shouting and her total release, Molly opened her eyes as her spasms still waved through her fading little by little. John and Sherlock, she saw were kneeling up in the bed between her knees, her legs still completely spread. Sherlock's hands were holding John's face gently and he was licking John's face, and John was licking him back, more hesitantly, but participating nonetheless, his hands placed lightly on Sherlock's arms. It wasn't a kiss, their mouths didn't meet. It was more animalistic, more primal, a cleaning, grooming ritual. Molly gasped when she saw them. John looked at her and was a little surprised at being observed.

"Please, John -." Molly reassured him. John smiled and reddened, now a little bashful. But Sherlock coaxed him back to face him, and Molly watched as they continued to lick the taste of her off one another's skin.

Later as they dozed in one another's arms, they found themselves giggling one after the other, quietly and to themselves.

"What's funny, Molly?" John asked.

"Nothing. Go to sleep, darling."

Then Sherlock chuckled.

"What is it, what's so funny?" John was a little concerned.

"It's not about you, John," Sherlock responded, stroking his friend's flank and gripping his bottom, trying not to be too greedy for his new privileges with John, but unable to resist touching him whenever possible. They were quiet for a time and John chuckled aloud.

"You see, you see," said Molly.

"It was quite, I mean it was quite -." Sherlock chuckled again.

"How in the world -." John began and laughed.

"Yes." Molly agreed.

"I mean how in the wide, wide world are we ever going to top this? Or live up to it?"

"Shh, that's not -." Sherlock began.

"That's true, Sherlock's right." Molly said. "But I have an idea."

"Haha. Molly, you just said, 'That's true, Sherlock's right, but I have an idea.' Really, Molly," Sherlock laughed again.

"Ahaha, what, Molly, what's your idea?" asked John.

"Shh. It has to be a surprise."

"God. 'O little did my mother dream when first she cradled me.'" John quoted.

"What's that?"

"Old folk song. The four Marys." Said Molly.

"Oh, right. Um. John, please don't evoke anyone's mother in this room. Particularly my mother. Particularly when a woman is using my backside for a pillow."

"Ahaha. Just as you say."

There ya go. Are you at work today? Ahaha.

(I put this out there a little quickly without my usual amount of editing

– sorry for any errors.)

It would be very wonderful of you if you could leave a review.

It doesn't have to be fancy – you can just say 'hi!' I'd love to hear from you.

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I have another kind of WILD chapter coming up in a couple days.

Molly's WILD idea.

It's almost ready, but I really felt like there should be

a little follow-up to the last one.

Many thanks all you reviewers, favers and followers! I love you!