Date: 2017-02-08 08:06 pm (UTC)
punchmeitssubtext: (You've always counted.)
Her wriggling makes him smile--just a bit, just briefly--before he moves that hand down further, nudging her thighs apart. His fingers brush over damp fabric--she's already wet, he realizes, and the revelation forces a shaky sigh out of him.

For a moment he pulls back, half inclined to say something or ask a question, but any words he might have summoned up dissolve against her soft skin. Sherlock trails more of those blind hungry kisses to her other breast, his index and middle finger tracing a slow line over her outer labia through her underwear, letting himself learn her by touch.
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Molly Hooper

February 2024

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