Molly roused from a light doze as the bathroom door opened and Mycroft flipped off the light. She raised onto her elbow to watch him, her attention caught by his bare feet. As he rounded the foot of the bed, she scooted over and looked over the edge of the mattress.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at your feet."

"My feet?" He sat on the bed and stretched out his left leg, turning his foot from side to side. "What about my feet?"

"I've never seen them before," she said, tilting her head to examine them more closely. "They're quite large, aren't they … bony, but elegant."

He snorted and started to untie the sash on his dressing gown. Molly jumped when his phone vibrated against the bedside table. He gave her a tight smile, then answered with a clipped "yes" as he walked to the dressing room and shut the door. Several minutes later, he opened the door, already dressed in shirt and trousers. "I'm sorry to do this on our first night together, but I have to leave." He turned away from the door, but left it open.

Molly put on her dressing gown, then went to stand in the doorway. Mycroft's head was lowered as he finished tying his shoes, and he didn't see her until he started to stand up. "I didn't expect this tonight," he said, shrugging into his waistcoat, "but you should know it's going to happen again when we're together, and likely more often than not." He unbuttoned his trousers to tuck in his shirt, fastened his belt, then chose a tie from a dresser. Molly followed him to the mirror, watching as he slipped the tie around his neck and quickly tied a neat Four in Hand, clipped his watch chain to his waistcoat, inserted cuff links, then donned his jacket – and felt herself becoming more and more aroused as he moved so deliberately through each step of dressing.

When Mycroft finally turned to her, she smoothed her hands down the lapels of his jacket and rested her palms on his chest. "Molly …"

"I know, you need to go." She smiled up at him. "It's just hard to resist putting my hands on you now that I can."

He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her firmly. "You can put them on me later."

Molly followed him into the bedroom. "I hope to be back in a few hours, but, if not, make yourself at home. Mrs. Collingwood will make you breakfast and get you anything else you need." He gave her another quick kiss. "Don't come down … go back to bed."

"OK, see you later." She waited until he'd left, then went into his bathroom, looking around curiously. On seeing the extra deep tub, she decided to have a bath.

#####

By the time Mycroft's driver left him at the front door, it was almost 4:30 a.m. He let himself into the house, dealt with the security system, then walked tiredly to the study. After pouring a drink, he sank into his chair, exhaling noisily. He took a sip of whisky, then closed his eyes and tilted his head against the back of the chair. He sat up abruptly, recalling that Molly was upstairs. He frowned, pressing his lips together, and considered her reaction to that. It wasn't that Mycroft actually forgot her, but he found it easy to compartmentalize parts of his life when necessary – and he needed to put Molly out of his mind to do his job. He took another sip, then left the rest and went upstairs.

Mycroft quietly entered the bedroom, tossed his jacket over a chair, and toed off his shoes. He undid the top button of his waistcoat, then the next, then the third, as he crossed to the bed and stood over the small, duvet-covered mound. All he could see of Molly was the crown of her head.

Mycroft drew a deep breath and released it silently, feeling himself relax. Bending over, he rested a hand on the bed, used the other to uncover her face, and then pressed his lips to her temple. Molly's lips twitched but she didn't stir. He started to straighten, but paused when he noticed what looked like the edge of a shirt collar. Curious, he pushed the covers farther down and recognized the material as one of his shirts.

He quickly removed the rest of his clothes, then climbed into bed and eased over until he was facing Molly. He ran a finger along her hairline, trailed it around the rim of her ear, then stopped at the pulse in her neck. He watched the sudden flutter of her lashes, then the slow separation of lids, until he was staring into the warmth of her big, slightly unfocused, brown eyes. A crease appeared between her brows, then smoothed as her eyes cleared, and a smile slowly spread across her face. Incandescent. Mycroft winced as the word came to mind.

"Mycroft", she whispered.

"Molly," he whispered back, causing a shiver to go through her. Mycroft trailed his finger down her throat and took the point of the collar between thumb and forefinger. "What's this then?" Her lids dropped and her cheeks flushed prettily. Mycroft suddenly had the urge to feast on her, to consume her whole.

"It's your shirt. The one you wore yesterday."

"I put that in the laundry basket."

"I took it out." She peeked at him between her lashes, then her lids dropped again, the pink tinge deepening on her cheeks.

Mycroft tugged the covers down to her waist and could see the buttons were undone except the few between her breasts. "Why are you wearing my dirty shirt?"

"Because it smells like you."

Mycroft's finger moved back to her carotid artery, feeling her pulse throb heavier and faster than before, which sent a spark of electricity straight to his groin. He froze as Molly threw the covers back, scrambled onto her knees, then shoved him flat on his back. Next thing he knew, she'd climbed onto him, straddling his hips and bracing herself with both hands against his chest. She leant down and kissed him, but quickly sat back up, looking smug.

He considered her expression thoughtfully for several moments, then slipped his hands under the open sides of the shirt and cupped her hips, his fingers pressing firmly against her bare skin. Molly's eyes widened and she arched forward, tilting her head back with a moan. Taking that as an invitation, he slowly trailed his fingers up her torso, flicked the last buttons open, covered her breasts with his hands, then began rubbing his palms in circles over them. She moaned again when he switched to rolling her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, then gasped when he slid his hands around her shoulders, pulled her forward, and drew her left nipple between his lips, while continuing to roll the right one between his fingers. When Molly began to grind herself against him, Mycroft went rigid, groaning at the moist warmth of her, then rolled until Molly was under him.

Leaning over her, he kissed the side of her neck, trailed his tongue down her throat, across her sternum, and then licked a circle around one breast, then the other. He pulled back to look at Molly, brows lifted. "Oh, god, yes." He cupped her breasts in both hands, then dipped his head and sucked her left nipple into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, then slowly licking it, before moving to her right nipple and doing the same. He leaned back, wrapping his hands around Molly's ribs, then slid them along the outside of her hips and down her thighs, before taking hold of her knees. He stopped to look at Molly again and she just groaned and opened her legs. Mycroft lifted himself between them, then bent to press his lips between her breasts. He trailed his lips down her torso, tracing a line across her waist, then dipped his tongue into her navel, causing her to laugh.

When Mycroft scooted farther down the bed, Molly tensed, swallowing nervously, and clamped her thighs against his hips. He pushed himself up until his face was level with a very red-faced Molly. He stroked her hot cheek until she looked at him, then, feeling his own cheeks flush, whispered, "Let me."

Molly closed her eyes, pressing her head hard into the pillow, then nodded.

Dragging his hands along the outside of her hips and thighs, Mycroft slid down her body, pressed her knees wide, then trailed his fingers up the back of her thighs until his thumbs met. He paused, slowly running his eyes up her body until his gaze met Molly's, then lowered his head, and feasted.