theonewhocounted | (no subject)

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.

Her knees bend so her feet are flat on the bed and she just loses herself entirely to the pleasure. There is no more thinking, just the hot need for release. Her hips move a bit more incessantly as her moans raise in pitch and volume. The hand in his hair is tugging slightly and the other keeps pinching her nipple, a combination of pleasure and pain.

"That..." she breathes out as his fingers speed up. Just like that.

He can tell she's close, can feel it in how she braces herself so she can fuck his mouth and his fingers--and hearing her lose control, hearing her quiet voice grow higher and louder, only encourages him to keep going. Sherlock hasn't got much brainpower left himself (not for anything other than taking in the gorgeous things her face is doing and the array of incredible physical and emotional input he has to store), but there's enough to let him shift again, his left hand reaching for her other breast so he can pinch and flick the hard nipple.

His mouth and both hands work at her in the same relentless rhythm, urging her over the edge from pain into ecstasy.

It's only a few moments more of the all out assault on her senses before her breath hitches and there is a half a second of pause before she cries out loudly and comes hard. Her body writhes on the bed and she whimpers as it overtakes her, wave after glorious wave. It wipes her mind clean for a second so she is just a trembling mass of nerves and heat.

She goes utterly still for a moment, and then she makes one of the most incredible sounds Sherlock's ever heard as the orgasm shudders through her whole body. Molly is beautiful and vulnerable and completely undone by how he's devoted his undivided attention to her. He guides her through it, watches and feels every cresting wave of it, and when the hard pulsing against his tongue and squeezing his fingers begins to slow so do his movements, easing her back down.

She notices the way that he follows her orgasm and knows just what she needs as she comes down and starts to recover. He's not the first to realize that this is how a woman's orgasm works, but he's just that much better at reading what her body wants.

She lets out a loud, contented sigh as her body finally, finally relaxes into the bed and her eyes blink open to look down at him. There is bliss on her face and absolutely adoration. And yet, underneath, there is still desire. She knows that this is just the start.

He manages to pull off of her, to lever himself up so he can rest his cheek on her thigh and just look at her. It's selfish of him, he knows, but there's something in him that simply wants to bask in the moments when it's evident she loves and wants him.

"Hi," he whispers, as the trembling starts to subside. His still-wet fingers stir against her inner thigh, stroking the soft skin affectionately.

It's not selfish, when she gets to bask right back as he looks at her. Her fingers that have left his hair when her body lost sight of itself for a bit, slide back through his curls fondly.

"Hi," she says back, quietly with a warm smile.

The smile makes his chest tighten strangely, gives him a brief sense of weightlessness. Her hand in his hair keeps him anchored, and in response he presses a soft, chaste kiss to her thigh.

"That was amazing."

Molly huffs out a laugh.

"I think that's my line," she says as her hand continues to comb through his hair until it stops to cup his cheek. "You should come up here and kiss me."

"With pleasure."

He unfolds himself from between her legs (and it's something of a relief--after all, he's six foot three and can't exactly sprawl out while he's giving oral) and levers himself up over her. Even as his eyes close, he fits his mouth over hers easily, letting her guide the pace of the kiss.

Molly kisses him slow but deep, her hands tangling back into his hair. They can't stay away. She urges him to press his weight into her body. He's still fully clothed but there's something sexy about that. Still, they'll have to fix it soon.

He sighs into her mouth, hot and soundless, his hips pressing down and into hers as the slow tension begins to build between them again. She's licking every last taste of herself off his tongue, and that makes his cock jerk against the fly of his trousers, the fabric stirring against her bare skin.

She makes a noise in return as she feels him twitching against her belly, her hips rolling up against his.

"Roll over," she says into his mouth. It's her turn for some exploring. And first she needs to get him out of his clothes.

If he were more self-conscious right now--or maybe if he loved her less--he might be embarrassed at how quickly he does as she tells him. Sherlock is every bit as pliant right now as Molly was a few minutes before, and there's something sort of thrilling about the feeling, about voluntarily giving her more control over the situation. The only disappointing thing is that he has to stop kissing her for a few seconds as he rolls to his back.

She can't help the thrill it gives her when he does what she says without question or pause. It's not generally in his nature, but it probably helps that he's hot and hard and she's the one who can help him out with that. It's also the trust they've built over the years coalescing with this love that is apparent and growing.

She follows him over so she's straddling his waist and looking down at him for a brief moment before her lips are slotted back over his. at the same time her fingers start working on the buttons of his purple dress shirt. So many tiny little buttons.