The sound she makes goes through him like an extra jolt of electricity, propelling him even higher. His hips buck uselessly, reflexively, several times before the pleasure ebbs and softens.
His breathing is harsh, ragged, his skin tingling like he's getting more oxygen in his lungs somehow.
"Mmm," she agrees as she catches her own breath, her hand still in her pants but just resting against herself.
Phone sex with this man is better than some real sex she's had.
"I feel like we should be checking off all your sexual experiences on a list," she murmers once her brain returns to her body. "Keep a tally."
She hopes he doesn't find that condescending. It's not how she means it. It's just fun to think that all of these are firsts for him. It feels like something they should be keeping track of.
Sherlock's laugh comes out breathless and low, almost a pleased purr.
"I could get a notebook at the gift shop," he huffs. "How scientific of you, Molly."
That last remark is all warmth. He may not know much about being affectionate or romantic, but he knows that it's safe to be genuine with her, even if it's still difficult.
Molly is relieved to hear that laugh and she laughs in return, giddy from her orgasm and him.
"I was thinking of it more like a loyalty punch card," she says. "Like you get some sort of prize when you reach 10. Although, in this case, it's more like the journey is also the prize I suppose. Or I hope."
"God, that sounds like something you'd see in a tabloid headline. Uni sex bingo parties."
There's something absurd and wonderful about lying in Molly's bed, half-naked and sticky and laughing at a terrible joke they're sharing even if she's halfway across the city from him. Because even though she keeps surprising him, he knows he can trust her, that if she's playful with him there's neither malice in it nor an attempt to sort of shame him into being a version of himself she'd prefer.
Plus this is every bit as fun as shadowing a suspect through a telling deviation in their daily routine.
Molly smiles as she finally pulls her hand out of her pants and sits up. She checks the baby monitor and Rosie's snoozing form is still on the screen. She's breathing steadily. Molly grabs a tissue from Sherlock's bedside table and wipes her hand before dropping it into the bin. She then does up her trousers and reaches for her shirt and jumper.
She'd much prefer to be cuddled up with him, but at least she could curl up in his bed and breathe in his scent on his pillow.
"So are you going to head home soon? I was going to order lunch."
Now that they know they're not going to jump each other as soon as they're in the same room, he could come watch Rosie with her.
Sherlock rolls over to grab some tissues off of Molly's own bedside table--and though he's tempted to look in the drawer at what she may or may not have in the way of condoms (and other things), his lazy pleased mood relaxes the urge out of him. He can choose to let her surprise him again, and he wants that.
"Well, I was planning to see if you still had leftover curry in the fridge. But I can stop by in a bit, if you like, though I did want to get some stuff done between now and dinner so it doesn't distract me tomorrow."
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His breathing is harsh, ragged, his skin tingling like he's getting more oxygen in his lungs somehow.
"Christ."
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Phone sex with this man is better than some real sex she's had.
"I feel like we should be checking off all your sexual experiences on a list," she murmers once her brain returns to her body. "Keep a tally."
She hopes he doesn't find that condescending. It's not how she means it. It's just fun to think that all of these are firsts for him. It feels like something they should be keeping track of.
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"I could get a notebook at the gift shop," he huffs. "How scientific of you, Molly."
That last remark is all warmth. He may not know much about being affectionate or romantic, but he knows that it's safe to be genuine with her, even if it's still difficult.
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"I was thinking of it more like a loyalty punch card," she says. "Like you get some sort of prize when you reach 10. Although, in this case, it's more like the journey is also the prize I suppose. Or I hope."
She feels like she just got a prize anyway.
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"Wait, not like bingo, then? Line up any five and get a prize?"
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"Oh! Bingo would be fun too," she said. "Sex bingo. I bet it would be popular in uni."
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There's something absurd and wonderful about lying in Molly's bed, half-naked and sticky and laughing at a terrible joke they're sharing even if she's halfway across the city from him. Because even though she keeps surprising him, he knows he can trust her, that if she's playful with him there's neither malice in it nor an attempt to sort of shame him into being a version of himself she'd prefer.
Plus this is every bit as fun as shadowing a suspect through a telling deviation in their daily routine.
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Molly smiles as she finally pulls her hand out of her pants and sits up. She checks the baby monitor and Rosie's snoozing form is still on the screen. She's breathing steadily. Molly grabs a tissue from Sherlock's bedside table and wipes her hand before dropping it into the bin. She then does up her trousers and reaches for her shirt and jumper.
She'd much prefer to be cuddled up with him, but at least she could curl up in his bed and breathe in his scent on his pillow.
"So are you going to head home soon? I was going to order lunch."
Now that they know they're not going to jump each other as soon as they're in the same room, he could come watch Rosie with her.
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"Well, I was planning to see if you still had leftover curry in the fridge. But I can stop by in a bit, if you like, though I did want to get some stuff done between now and dinner so it doesn't distract me tomorrow."
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"Just come over whenever you'd done with your...whatever it is you have to do."
Molly's not really sure what Sherlock does when he's not solving crimes. Well, except drugs, and he better not being doing that.
"Rosie and I will be here."