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[theonewhocounted]

The Bright Spot Meme


(Was there every a more suitable meme for dear Molly?)

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[theonewhocounted]

"Oh good, I don't want to bore you with my sleeping," she jokes easily. Although, it's a valid concern with him - boredom.

At first she doesn't quite follow his jump in conversation - she's only just woke up after all. Her face is confused until what he's talking about registers.

"Oh! Yes. The ballet," she says after first thinking he meant a subscription to her or maybe condoms or, well, she wasn't sure. "That would be lovely. If you're sure you think you can stand me for 3 or 4 more performances."

She smiles. She's not serious really.

[punchmeitssubtext]

(If he knew what she was thinking, Sherlock might point out that having a detective on call who wants to fuck her senseless any given day of the week is sort of a condom subscription service in its way.)

He laughs softly, a rumble deep in his chest. "I'll manage." It's just as warm and affectionate as her own joke. "I could always get us a private box so we could shag at the interval."

[theonewhocounted]

"Sherlock!" she says, looking appalled but she's more amused. "You're turning into a horny school boy."

She's laughing though. Sherlock Holmes who looked uncomfortable around the word 'sex' until recently just suggested they shag at the ballet. She's created a monster.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"I'm playing catch-up, thanks so much--" His own laugh is louder now, deeper. "--but if you like, I can skip my plans to ask if you wanted me to give you oral sex before breakfast."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly is laughing more too and can feel his body shaking with the force of his own laughter.

"Lucky me," she says with a grin. "Except that I will not shag you at the ballet. Unless we have access to a private restroom with a door that locks. I do have standards."

She is grinning like a fool because this is fun. She hasn't had this much fun in ages it feels like. She crawls up his body a bit to kiss him, forgetting for the moment about morning breath.

"And if I ever turn down oral sex, call an ambulance. I'm probably dying."

[punchmeitssubtext]

He doesn't care much, himself, because he's having just as much fun with her--just learning about her, using their bodies to explore one another--as she is with him. Still, now that things have begun to turn in this direction he's happy to let her pull him back into what he usually finds the messy and somewhat intimidating world of his own desires.

"Duly noted," he murmurs into the corner of her mouth, dropping kisses along her jaw and flicking his tongue against her lips. "You haven't had it nearly enough, have you?"

[theonewhocounted]

She hums as he tastes her.

"I don't know if any woman has had nearly enough oral sex in their life," she says. "That's not true. I bet lesbians have a plentiful amount of it. Good oral sex too I imagine."

Women know what women want after all.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Oh, absolutely. Amateur lesbian pornography was a very valuable resource, during my preliminary research."

Sherlock begins to kiss his way slowly down her throat, to her collarbone. He knows by now that she enjoys talking during sex, and though he'd never really understood the concept before the events of the past few days he thinks he gets why she finds it so interesting now.

"Granted, there are also several respectable archives dedicated entirely to videos of men performing cunnilingus on their partners," he says as he nips at a soft patch of skin near her sternum. "I'll share the login information for the one I'm subscribed to now, if you'd like."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly's brain stops for a moment there, around about the time the words "amateur lesbian pornography" come out of his mouth. Her own mouth hangs open in surprise. It's probably good his attention is fixed elsewhere so he doesn't see she's stalled out. She's sure he knows anyway and probably loves the reaction he's getting.

"I'm sorry..." she says, trying to restart herself. "You have a subscription to a porn website? A respectable one, no less?"

Because of course any old porn won't do for Sherlock Holmes. She laughs then at her own internal joke. Of course Sherlock's studied lesbian porn to find out how to give cunilingus. Of course he would subscribe to a whole damn site just to do research on the subject. She imagines him sitting in his room at the hotel with his laptop, studying oral sex techniques. For some reason in her visual he has glasses on and a large legal pad.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He looks up for a moment when she laughs, unable to keep himself from wondering for a second if she's laughing at him... except by now the trust between them has grown enough that he can laugh along with her instead of pulling away. Someone who uses her own knowledge of sex to help him through his inexperience as generously as she's been doing isn't going to recoil from him over this, and he finally understands that about her even if he hasn't formally acknowledged it to himself yet.

"If a thing is worth doing, Molly, it's worth doing well. So yes, I have a subscription to a porn website, in the interest of having a better general idea of how to pursue a valuable skill."

(She's not that far off with the legal pad.)

[theonewhocounted]

When he looks up, she worries for a moment if she's offended him by laughing at the idea of it all or that he might think she's laughing at him. She continues to smile at him and presses her hand to his cheek. There's a joke on her tongue about how other men should learn to use that excuse for their porn habits. It will certainly put them in better favour with their wives or girlfriends. But, she decides instead to go a different route.

"You are an extraordinary man, Sherlock Holmes," she says fondly. Because screw all those other men. She's got pick of 'em right here. A man who studies porn not just to have a wank (although she imagines he had one of those too), but to make himself a better lover for her. "Not just an extraordinary scholar or detective or violin player or puzzle solver or chemist, but an extraordinary man. And I'm a very lucky woman."

[punchmeitssubtext]

The compliment throws him off-balance for a second. Because, really... that's the first time anyone's said that to him, in so many words. Yes, John has been a steady and infinitely understanding friend (and so was Mary), but this is entirely new.

All the danger that comes with being around him, all the hurt that's behind them and the inevitable mistakes ahead of them, and she still sees herself as lucky.

There's something in that thought too big to process right now, something that he'll have to unfold over the next weeks and months and however long this thing between them lasts. But it turns his smile small, almost tender.

And while he's not sure he'll ever be good at compliments, he knows there's one he can give her in return that will help her understand she means just as much to him.

"You are a fascinating woman, Molly Hooper."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly is clearly also a very forgiving woman who believes in second (and third) chances. Someone who sees beyond what a person tries to make the world think they are.

If anyone else told her she was 'fascinating' as a compliment, she might worry that it was in place of outright calling her weird. But for him to call her fascinating is just about the best compliment she's ever received.

"Actually, I feel rather normal and dull most of the time," she says as she slides her hands through his hair. "Except recently, when I see you looking at me. I feel fascinating then." And in no way did she ever expect Sherlock to find her such. Interesting, at the very most. Fascinating was reserved for curious cases and bits of unearthed history or complicated symphonies or a locked door murder. People didn't seem to fascinate Sherlock unless they were dead. Until now anyway.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He tilts his head into her touch, like a pleased cat, turning a little so he can kiss the inside of her wrist. It's strange, to hear that soft confession--when they'd first met he would have reflexively (a reflex born partly out of fear) rejected it offhand as something trite and sentimental born of fleeting sexual attraction. Now he understands what it means, on a level that goes beyond the words, beyond even the fact that they're naked in bed together and both halfway aroused.

He leans in to kiss the base of her throat, lingering and slow.

"Good thing you can always see me," he whispers, a soft wet breath against her skin.

[theonewhocounted]

Sometimes you need to see yourself through someone else's eyes to appreciate things about yourself or see something new. It's why relationships can be important in helping you grow as a person. Right now what's reflected in his face is good, but sometimes it won't be. She'll do or say something untoward and he'll need to reflect that back at her too so she can be better than the day before.

When he kisses her throat she hums and closes her eyes.

"Always," she says in return as her fingers continue sliding through his hair.

[punchmeitssubtext]

She's already been helping him correct his way forward for years, showing him that there are things about the self he's tried to be that he doesn't actually like, as much as John has. And there will, he knows, be mistakes, and problems, and frustrations. But they have this to start with, this understanding that in some way they are the same and they've found one another, this intimacy.

His lips move lower, leaving a slow trail of heat in the wake of his kisses.

"Last night," he admits, barely more than a breath. "I meant what I said. Not just because we were having sex."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly sighs and shifts as his kisses start to heat up her body. She's happy they don't have clothes to worry about right now. Unwrapping each other can be fun, but it's nice not to have to worry about it either.

"I know," she says, her eyes opening to look down at him. "You've told me before."

She assumes he means saying 'I love you.' They've both said it a few times now outside of emotionally charged situations like sex or bomb threats.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He glances up at her, that intense blue-green gaze meeting hers for a moment. The playfulness between them is starting to melt into heat, and as it does he's less becoming less reserved about saying certain things. Softer things, things that he's never been comfortable with outside of this bed.

"You might not remember," he purrs, "but while we were having intercourse I said you were beautiful."

And just to punctuate the statement, he lowers his head to sweep his tongue across one of her hardening nipples.

[theonewhocounted]

It's that look that makes her feel fascinating and beautiful.

"I do remember," she says and gives him a small smile, although it takes him reminding her for her to actually recall the moment. Her brain was otherwise occupied at the time, but she heard him. "Thank you."

Another sigh leaves her mouth as he licks her nipple and she feels a rush of wetness to her core.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"You're welcome."

The soft rush of breath that leaves her warms him, encourages him. He sucks at her nipple briefly before trailing a series of sucking kisses to her other breast, taking his time as he speaks.

"Although if I'm honest--" and he pitches his voice low and rumbling against her skin-- "--and while we are on the subject of sex, I was also not exaggerating when I said I'd been wanting to give you oral for days. Counting our phone session yesterday I've masturbated to orgasm three times imagining the scenario since Saturday."

Well, it's clinical dirty talk. But he knows she likes talking during sex, and this is, in its way, an experiment. The woman he's with isn't, but that doesn't mean he can't apply the scientific method to figuring out how to develop sexual competence.

[theonewhocounted]

Molly hums and her hand tangles in his hair as continued encouragement and also just because she enjoys the feel. Her nails scratch gently against his scalp when the vibrations of his voice start against her skin.

"Christ, Sherlock," she says a bit breathy at his admission. The thought of him wanking as he thought about going down on her is an incredible turn on, and him telling her about it, even more so. Her center aches and she shifts a bit out of need.

[punchmeitssubtext]

As her fingernails rake gently against his scalp, Sherlock feels a long shiver of arousal crawl down his spine, and by way of response he fits his mouth over her other nipple and sucks hard before letting it go with a faint wet pop.

She seems to like his particular brand of dirty talk, if the way she squirms and shifts her thighs further apart is any indication, so he decides to keep going.

"You've thrown off my average, you know." He nips at the underside of her breast, sliding down her body, paying attention to the spots that make her fingers tighten in his curls. "For the past six years I've masturbated, on average, less than fifteen times per year. This year I'll likely double that number before the end of next week."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly whimpers as he sucks hard on her nipple, her hips shifting again. It's torturous in the good way but she's impatient for his mouth to slide slower.

A couple things run through her mind as he tells her about his mastubatory history. One is that Sherlock knows the average number of times he masturbates in a year (of course he does) and two, Sherlock is actively telling her about it to turn her on. This is Sherlock Holmes doing dirty talk and it's wonderfully still him, not forced or something he heard in a porn. And it's working.

"What is it the kids say 'sorry, not sorry'?" she jokes, in between breathy pants. "You know, generally when you become involved with a sexual partner, you end up masturbating less."

Although she supposes that doesn't take into consideration having to be aware from your partner for any length of time.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Mm, generally." He pauses to suck a red mark into a tender spot along her ribcage before beginning to kiss the hollow of one hip. "The average will naturally go down during times I'm not on business trips." Sherlock trails his tongue from the top of her thigh to the gentle swell of her mons, a smile curving his mouth. "How many times did you masturbate while I was in Cardiff, Molly? I was there two days, and I had to make myself come five separate times to keep the edge off."

[theonewhocounted]

Molly continues to squirm against his ministrations. Her body is flushed and terribly aroused and he's still not quite where she wants him yet. She lets out a somewhat frustrated noise as his tongue stops where it does. She has trouble counting the times she touched herself over the weekend.

"Uh...hmm...Sunday morning before work, Sunday night after work," she starts, it's hard to think right now. "Monday morning in the shower before work, Monday during work, and then with you on the phone Tuesday."

It didn't seem like that much at the time, but she's got five too. Count the fact that they both got off twice together on Saturday and she got off twice Tuesday night, then she's about to break her own records too probably.