theonewhocounted | (no subject)

He feels her thighs contract a little--creating and releasing pressure on her clitoris, he realizes, and suddenly it's much easier to drag his mouth from her neck.

Again he manages the bra one-handed, though this time the gloating takes a backseat to the stronger, hotter pull of desire. As if he were guiding her into another lift, his hands move to turn her towards him, his weight already leaning to guide her in the direction of the bed.

Molly is more than pliant in his hands, letting him lead this dance. When she's facing him again though, she can't help but lean up to press her mouth to his again. He can guide them toward the bed, but he'll have to do it while her hot tongue presses into his mouth and her hands fist in his shirt.

Once again her confidence and assertiveness takes him by surprise. But his body and his heart know how to respond to her before his brain's caught up, and he kisses her back hard and slow.

Somehow, between long and urgent tastes of her mouth, he manages to rumble out two words.

"Lie back."

If he told her to jump off the roof of Bart's right, now she realizes that she would probably do it. Which should be terrifying, except for the fact that she knows he would never tell her to do something that would purposely cause her harm. And while he's, himself, hurt her in the past, she knows they were unintentional slights and they are hopefully a shade beyond that now.

So when he tells her her 'lie back' she pulls her mouth from his (somewhat reluctantly) and sits herself on her bed. She looks up at him and a moment later scoots back and lays against the pillows. Her hair is fanned out, her lips are red from their kisses, and her nipples are hard peaks. She feels laid out for him like a meal and then she flushes when she realizes that's exactly what she is to be.

(He will, occasionally, still have trouble remembering to say 'please'. But along with his love, she's also won his respect--and going forward, he wants to make sure that when he asks something of her it's fair, or meant to please her.)

She's vastly more appealing than any dessert--or any naked woman, in porn or otherwise--he's ever seen. Drawn like a magnet, Sherlock moves to sit on the mattress, so he can lean down and take one of her nipples between his lips. He breathes out, hot and damp, against her breast, and there's a whisper of sound in that breath that might be her name before his tongue sweeps over the hard nub of flesh.

Molly hums and her eyes slip shut. Her hands automatically slide into his curls. God, she loves his hair. It's as soft and silky as she always imagined when she fantasized about just this scenario. Although, the reality of the scenario is better than her imagination could come up with. He's turning out to be an infinitely more selfless lover than she ever expected, for one.

Strangely, Sherlock wouldn't qualify himself as selfless: he's simply cataloguing her pleasure, teaching himself what her body looks and feels and tastes like and how it responds to him, and at the same time finally giving rein to a hunger he's been denying for far too long.

He takes that soft humming sound she makes as an encouragement, and shifts further over her so he can begin to slide down her body, to explore her ribcage briefly with a line of hot kisses before he's drawn back up to her other nipple to taste it as well.

Whatever he's doing, whether truly selfless or not, is working for Molly. She sighs as his body covers hers more and she is suddenly reminded where this is headed. Her need for him surges back (not that it ever really went away, it was just simmering for a moment) and she arches into his mouth. The mouth that he plans on using in other locations soon.

Her hands tighten in his hair, and somehow that just makes him all the more greedy for her. When she arches into him, a clear message of what she wants, he sucks at her nipple briefly before shifting again so he can kneel on the mattress between her legs.

Later, he promises himself, he'll devote time to every millimeter of her skin, find every shade of pleasure he can draw from her. But they'll have time. They'll have at least until the end of ballet season. Right now he needs to taste her.

He drops one soft kiss just below her breasts, one on the curve of her stomach... and then one over the damp fabric that covers her clit, inhaling her scent deeply as he does.

Molly's hands fall away from him as he moves downward and she opens her eyes to watch him. Her breath hitches as he kisses her through her wet knickers and her legs part further to accommodate him between them.

He looks hungry, and knowing that it's her he is hungry for makes her squirm slightly in anticipation.

Maneuvering to get the thong off of her is slightly clumsy--it ends up mostly around one of Molly's thighs, and neither of them really cares. But once it's out of the way he can actually get a good look at her, pink and flushed and wet for him.

When he bends to take his first taste of her, it's slow and deliberate, his tongue sweeping over her labia and the hood of her clit. The flavour is every bit as complex and rich as he remembers, and he nearly purrs.

Molly's had a wax in preparation for the night, but she's not a Brazilian girl. She is neatly trimmed though and she hopes that's okay. By the way he's looking at her, she thinks it is.

And when his tongue slides over her most sensitive flesh for the first time, her head drops back down to the bed and she lets out a loud breath that also has a light grunting sound to it.

"Fuck," she whispers because she knows she is done for. Sherlock Holmes is eating her out and just that thought alone is enough to light a fire throughout her whole body, regardless of what he's actually going to do to her.

He knows he'd like the view no matter what, but privately he's a bit glad she didn't opt to get rid of everything. After all, he does like the sight of that soft hair and the texture of it on his fingers and now his lips.

He smiles, just a little, mouth curving against hot skin. Does anyone they know have any idea that Molly ever swears? Probably not, and definitely not in this context. Again he licks her, this time making a slow circle around her clit, zeroing in on it. Figuring out which angle of approach she likes best.

"Oh..." Molly whimpers as his tongue circles her clit, her hands curling into the blankets below her. She can feel the bundle of nerves get painfully hard under his ministrations and she has to reminder herself to breathe and relax a little. He's only just started after all.

This is exactly what he's been looking forward to: Molly making soft excited noises, her clit stiffening against his tongue, her fingers clenching into fists. Performing oral sex is a feast for all five of his senses, just as he's been hoping it would be, and he knows immediately he's going to want to spend a lot of time learning exactly how she likes it.

At first he keeps up those slow circles, brushing against the sensitive skin, even his breathing deliberate. And then he decides to experiment, brushing the tip of his tongue directly over her clit, just darting forward like he's wetting his lips in preparation for a kiss.

The texture of his tongue feels perfectly rough against her and her breaths have evened in time with the circles he's making. So when he changes his approach and slides it right over the tip of her clit, her breath comes out in a short little grunt and her hips buck a bit. She's so sensitive it's almost too much, but stays just on the side of extremely pleasureable.

He notices that urgent twitch, and decides to chase that a little further, to see if he can draw an even stronger reaction out of her. With short, hard licks, he traces smaller circles around her clit, his lips drawing tighter around it.

Molly let's out a small moan, her body arching a little. One of her hands finds its way into his hair again and just tangles in the strands. With each circle, she feels a heat creep through her body, her toes flexing and unflexing.

Somehow, the same way she'd inspired him to be bolder on Saturday, her hand tangling in his hair inspires him again. He shifts so he can bring his right hand up between her thighs, the tips of his index and middle fingers just dipping into the wetness at her entrance. He knows her head's tipped back, knows she's likely got her eyes closed, but he can't resist stealing a glance up the length of her body anyway.

Her head is thrown back but when she feels him shift and his fingers teasing at her entrance, she manages to lift her head up and finds him looking up at her.

"Sherlock," is all she manages to whisper out. Her pupils are blown wide in arousal and her cheeks are flushed. He looks like a bloody angel between her legs, pale and gorgeous, and also clearly aroused by what he's doing to her. Meeting his eyes is intense but she can't look away.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment he can't breathe. The way she says his name almost stops his pulse--he loves hearing her say it like this, he realizes, loves that he can hear exactly what he's doing to her.

His fingers press forward, sliding in and up in a single smooth movement, and he begins to suck her clit. Lightly at first, because he's unable to look away from her dark expressive eyes and he wants to watch her reaction.

She moans then and can't manage to keep her eyes open as he starts sucking on her clit. She bites her lip as little whimpers leave her mouth. Her head lolls to the side and she's able to open her eyes to watch him. Her expression might be construed as pain under different circumstances, but it is far from accurate at the moment. The hand that's not tangled in his hair, moves to massage her breast and pinch her nipple.

Oh God. He's just made her eyes roll back. Somehow he already knows that, as much as the taste and the sound and the feel of her, is going to be one of the things he remembers most powerfully when he thinks about this later.

She starts touching herself, playing with her breast, her expression soft and unguarded. He begins to curl his fingers in deep and rocking movements, sucking her clit harder, trying to draw more of those sweet little sounds out of her.

Molly let's out a sharp moan and she loses the battle with trying to keep her eyes open and focused on him. She's on sensory overload and she needs to cut out the visual aspect right now. Her hips start to move as her pleasure intensifies and she feels the first curls of a rising orgasm. She has enough brainpower to wonder how he's learned to do this and do it well. She wonders if he read books or watched videos. At some point later she will ask him if he watches porn. Maybe they'll watch some together even.

(He may have done a bit of research, just to make sure he has some idea of standard operating procedure, but right now he's simply letting her teach him how to eat her out.)

The sound she makes goes straight to his cock, so sweet and hot it's impossible to ignore. His fingers move faster, working at her trembling muscles, and he sucks her in time with the movement of her hips, his eyes still firmly fixed on her face.