With the rest of her in easy reach, Sherlock tests out what she likes, noting how she arches into his touch when he cups her breast and jerks away, ticklish, when his fingers dance lightly below her navel. He slips a hand between her thighs, and he watches her mouth fall open as he strokes her, circling the swollen pearl of her clit. Her muscles contract tightly around his long fingers as he dips them inside her. He doesn't particularly like the slick feeling on his fingers, something about it seems distasteful and messy, despite the obvious efficiency (for some reason he'd prefer a very healthy handful of medical lubricant; he's not sure Molly would be amused). He likes feedback, though, and Molly grants it with sighs and bitten lips. She kisses his neck and a soft breathy moan floats to his ear, triggering a feeling of electricity down his spine. He's tempted to draw this to completion, especially when her thighs start to tremble, but Molly shifts, brushing his fingers aside and straddling his hips with more fluidity of movement than he expected her to possess. He hisses as her hand strays too close to his cracked ribs as she finds her balance.
Molly strokes his cock again, a little more vigorously, and then with a rather clever shimmy of her hips he's sheathed inside of her. Sherlock digs his fingers into her waist with a gasp, because the tight, wet heat surrounding him is almost overwhelming.
"Need a moment," Sherlock manages to say, and Molly nods, her hands trembling slightly on his chest. He watches her breathe again, feeling like time has briefly suspended its march forward. He runs his hand over her thighs, and his brain stirs, noting the smoothness of her skin.
"You shaved your legs to fake my death?" Sherlock blurts, and then realizes that must sound rather odd, even for him. Molly claps her hand over her mouth and giggles, and the sound is far more pleasant than he might have expected, as is the tightening of her pelvic muscles around his cock as the laughter passes through her body.
When he begins to lightly caress her skin, fingers brushing beneath her breasts, Molly moves slowly and carefully, bending to kiss him and nuzzle his cheek with surprising tenderness. He tests out exactly how much he can move his hips before his ribs ache, and the answer is regrettably small, although Molly doesn't seem to mind. Her thighs are stronger than they look, firm muscle beneath soft flesh, and he grips onto them as a shudder of pleasure passes through him. She leans over him, gently running her hands over his chest, but also seems to know he needs breathing room. He doesn't think of sex like this, soothing and giving and Molly would give until she had nothing left, he can tell. The idea makes him want to wrap his arms around her, to protect her because she is precious and rare, but the fact is that he's always has been the trap set out for her, and he doesn't know how he could ever change that. Molly tugs his hand back to where he stroked her before, where he can feel her stretched around his cock as she slowly circles her hips and shivers. Her body jerks slightly as he sweeps his thumb across her clit, and he settles his hand into the crease of her thigh and hip to do just that. She isn't particularly vocal, which he appreciates, just panting softly in rhythm with the wet sound of their bodies meeting.
Sherlock knows where this should lead, but the cocktail of painkillers and exhaustion makes his body less than inclined to cooperate. Molly notices him going soft and kisses him once more, before letting him slip out and tumbling clumsily to the bed beside him. She bites her lip shyly, not quite looking at him as she pulls the covers up over both of them.
Re: Slumber in the Broken Night (Sherlock/Molly, M) 4/?
Molly strokes his cock again, a little more vigorously, and then with a rather clever shimmy of her hips he's sheathed inside of her. Sherlock digs his fingers into her waist with a gasp, because the tight, wet heat surrounding him is almost overwhelming.
"Need a moment," Sherlock manages to say, and Molly nods, her hands trembling slightly on his chest. He watches her breathe again, feeling like time has briefly suspended its march forward. He runs his hand over her thighs, and his brain stirs, noting the smoothness of her skin.
"You shaved your legs to fake my death?" Sherlock blurts, and then realizes that must sound rather odd, even for him. Molly claps her hand over her mouth and giggles, and the sound is far more pleasant than he might have expected, as is the tightening of her pelvic muscles around his cock as the laughter passes through her body.
When he begins to lightly caress her skin, fingers brushing beneath her breasts, Molly moves slowly and carefully, bending to kiss him and nuzzle his cheek with surprising tenderness. He tests out exactly how much he can move his hips before his ribs ache, and the answer is regrettably small, although Molly doesn't seem to mind. Her thighs are stronger than they look, firm muscle beneath soft flesh, and he grips onto them as a shudder of pleasure passes through him. She leans over him, gently running her hands over his chest, but also seems to know he needs breathing room. He doesn't think of sex like this, soothing and giving and Molly would give until she had nothing left, he can tell. The idea makes him want to wrap his arms around her, to protect her because she is precious and rare, but the fact is that he's always has been the trap set out for her, and he doesn't know how he could ever change that.
Molly tugs his hand back to where he stroked her before, where he can feel her stretched around his cock as she slowly circles her hips and shivers. Her body jerks slightly as he sweeps his thumb across her clit, and he settles his hand into the crease of her thigh and hip to do just that. She isn't particularly vocal, which he appreciates, just panting softly in rhythm with the wet sound of their bodies meeting.
Sherlock knows where this should lead, but the cocktail of painkillers and exhaustion makes his body less than inclined to cooperate. Molly notices him going soft and kisses him once more, before letting him slip out and tumbling clumsily to the bed beside him. She bites her lip shyly, not quite looking at him as she pulls the covers up over both of them.