Don't Stand So Close To Me

[darnedchild]

Summary: Doctor and Mr Holmes have a little fun with role play. Smut. Purely smut. No redeeming qualities at all (other than smut). Originally written for Sherlolly Smutember. This fic won the "Exhibition" catagory.

Rating: M

A/N - We've got a bit of sexy professor/naughty student going on, some light spanking, and a bit of "anyone could walk in on us at any moment".

Don't Stand So Close To Me




Young teacher, the subject
Of schoolgirl fantasy
- The Police

"Let's thank Doctor Holmes one more time, for giving up her afternoon to talk to us," Mike Stamford urged the med students in the small lecture hall. They clapped, some with more enthusiasm than others. Molly didn't mind. Her branch of work wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but Mike had asked her to pop in for a guest lecture.

One of the students came to the front of the room to ask her another question. Molly was happy to answer, even though her gaze kept getting drawn to the door where Mike was talking to Sherlock as the other students shuffled out.

She really hadn't expected Sherlock to show up. He hadn't said anything about it when she left Baker Street that morning. Finding him sitting amongst the students had been a pleasant surprise. He'd watched her intently through the entire two-hour lecture period. His pale eyes seemed to strip her bare on more than one occasion; and only served to drive home that it had been nearly a week of early mornings at Barts for her and extremely late evenings with cases for him, with no opportunity for real intimacy with her husband in days. His case had broken the night before and she had two free days off work once her shift ended later that afternoon.

Seeing him there was a vivid reminder of how she had been planning to launch herself at him the second they were both home. She'd had to cross her arms to hide the way her nipples had pebbled at the thought, and of course that was when he chose to raise his hand and ask a question. Molly had barely been able to stammer through an intelligent answer because of the way his heated gaze made it clear he knew how aroused she was.

The student thanked her for answering his question, then hurried after his peers. Molly couldn't help smiling as she gathered up all the notes and papers she'd scattered across the table next to the lectern during her talk. She tucked them all into her bag and shouldered it just in time to see Sherlock sit on the edge of the table next to her.

His long legs stretched out in front of him, casually crossed at the ankles. His arms folded across his chest, his biceps straining the material of his suit jacket. God, he looked good enough to eat. She altered her earlier estimate of waiting until they were home to jump him; assuming Mrs Hudson was out, there was a very high probability they wouldn't make it up the stairs before one or both of them were naked.

She realized Sherlock was studying her again, his expression was oddly severe considering the circumstances.

Had Mike said something to upset him? Or worse, was he about to tell her he had a case and would be gone for the remainder of the week?

"I know the rest of the class has already left, Miss Hooper; but I would like you to stay behind so that I may have a word with you."

The sound of her maiden name on his lips seemed both familiar and yet out of place. No one had called her that in the six months since she'd married Sherlock and happily taken his name. So what, exactly, was he playing at?

"All right, Sherlock."

He tutted. "Really, Miss Hooper. Is that any way to address your professor?"

"Wh-wha-" Molly stuttered for a moment until it clicked in her head. The stern expression, her maiden name, and now this. Sherlock wanted to play. "I apologize, Professor Holmes. Sir."

His lips curled into a pleased smile for just a second, then disappeared. "Tell me, did you read the require text for today's class?"

Not only had she read it, she'd written it. Molly nodded. "Yes, sir."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at her, and lowered his hands to grip the edge of the table at his sides. "Then why did you hesitate and stumble through your answer when I asked you a question?"

She toyed with the cuff of her blouse. Her fingers needed something to do to keep her from reaching for him, dragging him close enough to kiss. "I was . . . distracted, sir." It was the truth.

"Obviously. The question is, by what?" Before she could answer, he stood up to face her fully. "I expect you to pay attention to me whilst in my class, Miss Hooper."

They both knew that was exactly why she'd been flustered in the first place. Six months of marriage and nearly a year of dating prior to that, and he still had the power to derail her thoughts and make her heart race. Especially when he looked at her as he was right then; the heat in his gaze was enough to make her knees weak and her knickers wet.

She knew that look.

She loved that look.

It meant he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

The last time he'd looked at her like that at Barts, they had ended up in a supply cupboard with her hand buried between her thighs and his cock in her mouth. He'd moaned her name as he came, hands fisted in her hair, before dropping to his knees to finish her off with his long, dexterous fingers.

"And there you go again," Sherlock practically purred. Molly blinked and realized she must have become caught up in memories.

"How naughty, Miss Hooper. I can almost guess what sort of inappropriate thoughts are flitting through your mind. Were you thinking of fucking your professor? Sucking me off? Or perhaps pulling up your skirt and touching yourself while I watched?" Sherlock shook his head. The disapproval in his expression didn't reach his eyes. "I think this calls for drastic measures, don't you? Something to remind you. To. Focus."

He began to slowly walk around her. "I could ask you to write lines? That's far too juvenile, I think. An essay on today's topic? No. No, I think we need something memorable. Don't you agree, Miss Hooper?" Sherlock stopped directly behind her. He leaned close enough that she could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear. "A bit of . . . corporal punishment."

She quivered in excitement. Heat raced through her blood, warming her from the inside and making her flush with arousal.

Since they had first become intimate, their sex life had grown more adventurous as they'd become more sure of each other. Trusting.

But this was something new.

Molly bit her lip and cast a nervous glance toward the door. Sherlock patiently waited behind her, not saying a word to try to persuade her one way or another. The decision would be up to her.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Say it, Miss Hooper." Sherlock's voice fairly vibrated down her spine, making her breath catch. "Do you deserve to be punished? Do you want to be spanked by your professor?"

Her eyes briefly fluttered closed as she nodded once more. "Yes. Please, Professor Holmes. Spank me."

Sherlock gently slid her bag off her shoulder and set it on the lectern, out of their way. "Now lean over and brace your arms here."

She planted her hands on the table, and waited for him to make the next move. She felt the touch of his fingers slide down her spine from her nape to the upper swell of her buttocks. His large hand caressed her bum for a moment, then he drew away.

"This won't do. Too much fabric in the way. Lift your skirt, Miss Hooper. All the way."

Molly did as he asked, rucking the soft cotton skirt up to her waist. Then she looked over her shoulder to find him studying her with a look of hunger that made her grow even wetter.

He shook his head and looked up to meet her eyes. "Closer, but not quite right. Take off your knickers and hand them over."

She couldn't help thinking this entire encounter was utterly crazy. They could be discovered at any moment, and yet she stepped out of her knickers anyway. Molly placed them in Sherlock's outstretched hand, and watched as he shoved them into a trouser pocket.

"Very good. Now lift your skirt again, spread your legs, put your hands back on the table, and look forward."

Within a matter of seconds, she found herself staring at the chalkboard at the front of the room, ears straining to hear some clue as to what Sherlock was going to do.

His hand returned to her arse cheek, teasing her. "Remember, do not turn around or I shall be forced to increase the severity of your punishment. Do you understand?"

Her head jerked in agreement.

"Out loud." He slid his hand softly across her bum, his fingers briefly dipped tantalizingly low between her legs. "Do you understand?"

She shuddered and strained up onto her tiptoes, unable to keep still with his touch so close to where she needed him to be. "Yes, sir."

Sherlock hummed in approval. "How many do you think? One, two?" Molly whimpered. "Fantasizing about your professor is a very serious offense. As such, I believe we shall start with five. Can you handle five, Miss Hooper?"

Could she? Molly closed her eyes and carefully considered it. Her "yes," was soft and hesitant.

He tapped his fingers against her. "I didn't hear you."

"Please, sir." She couldn't help but tense up in anticipation. Part of her wanted him to just do it already; but the rest wanted the suspense to never end. "Please spank me."

He leaned into her and brushed his lips against her neck. Sherlock whispered, "Relax love. If it's too much, say 'red' and it ends. If you need me to stop, what do you say?"

"Red," Molly whispered back as she rubbed her cheek against his hair.

Sherlock hummed in approval as he straightened. "Exactly right, Miss Hooper. As it is the first time you've required correction, I will count them off for you. Shall we begin?"

Molly took a deep breath and forced herself to relax as much as possible. "Yes, Professor Holmes. I'm ready."

The flat of his hand came down on the flesh of her arse; firmly, but not too hard. "One." He paused to give her a chance to speak up. When she remained silent he praised her with a soft, "There's my good girl."

The urge to turn and look at him—to see if he was enjoying this as much as she was—was strong, but she fought it. Barely.

"Two." His hand connected with the other cheek. Harder this time.

"Three." Molly bit her lower lip and breathed sharply through her nose at the sting. Sherlock hesitated again, but she shook her head.

"Four." Her hips rocked forward into the table.

"Five." She gasped as his hand connected harder than any of the smacks before. Her arse felt deliciously warm and tingly, especially where he lightly ghosted over the tender skin with his fingertips.

Sherlock lowered his hand, sliding it forward until he found the moisture between her thighs. "Oh, dear. I do believe you enjoyed that." He slipped two fingers inside her.

Her arms buckled, and she might have fallen if Sherlock hadn't caught her around the waist. He eased her down to the table so that she could press her hot cheek to the cool surface.

Once he was certain she wasn't going to slide off the table onto the floor, Sherlock returned his attention to her cunt. Two fingers in, then out to spread her wetness and circle her clit. His pace was just a hair too slow, and his touch was almost where she needed it to be. Molly was aware that Sherlock knew exactly how frustrating he was being. He knew how and where she liked to be touched, which meant he was doing it on purpose. A few more circuits of his maddening fingers and she broke with a desperate, "Please!"

"Normally, Miss Hooper, this would call for an even stricter punishment." She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "But you took them so well that I find I'm inclined to be forgiving. Let's move on to something even more enjoyable." His hand abandoned her as Sherlock pushed his thigh between hers and pressed his erection against her arse.

Instinctively, she pushed her bum back against him. The small, rapidly fading ache from the spankings made the contact even more intense.

"Should I make you get on your knees? I think I'd very much like to come in your pretty little mouth."

Molly whimpered and squirmed. He raised his leg so that his thigh pressed against her wet core.

"No? Pity. You would prefer something else then?" Sherlock leaned over her, his body pressing down on hers just enough to make her tremble with the desire for more. More of his weight against her. More of his touch. More of his deep voice setting off sparks in her cunt.

"Do you want me to take you from behind? Fuck you right here, where anyone could come in and see?"

Molly moaned and pressed her forehead against the table. "Yes, God, yes!"

Suddenly he was gone. She nearly turned to look for him—had her hands braced on the table to lift herself up to do so—when Sherlock gave her a low, rumbled warning, "Eyes front. I haven't given you permission to turn around. Now, Miss Hooper, tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. In detail."

Her words came out in a breathless, eager rush. "I want you to fuck me, Professor. Hard and fast. I want you to make me come. I want to feel you come inside me. Please, sir."

Sherlock's hands returned to her hips, holding her in place. She felt his foot, still encased in its expensive leather shoe, nudge against her ankle in a silent demand that she widen her stance. Once she complied, he pressed against her. She could feel the material of his trousers rubbing against her lower legs, the brush of his silk shirt against her bum, his penis hard and hot between them.

Molly held her breath as he bent his knees and carefully positioned his cock at her entrance. And then he slowly—so slowly—pushed into her. They both groaned when he was fully seated inside her.

She loved it when Sherlock took her from behind. He always seemed bigger this way, seemed to fill her to the brim in a way that other positions couldn't quite manage. Not to mention the way he inevitably hit that absolutely mind blowing spot when he moved inside her.

He withdrew just as slowly as he'd entered, and Molly knew he was making sure she was properly aroused and lubricated before he moved on to the main act of fucking her senseless.

Another careful slide in and out, and then his hands gripped her hips tighter. A growled "You wanted hard and fast," was the only warning she got before he slammed into her.

Molly bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. It was perfect.

He set a hard pace that quickly had her on the cusp of an orgasm.

She'd have faint bruises from his fingers on her hips for the rest of the day, if not longer, and it only served to arouse her further. She revelled in the idea that he'd marked her as his, even if no one else would be able to see it. In the back of her mind was the knowledge that someone could walk in on them at any moment, and she didn't care. Not if it meant stopping before they'd finished, before she'd come.

Sherlock slapped one hand down on the table by her side for leverage as he thrust harder than before. His other hand left her hip to slip around between her legs once more.

Her whole body vibrated with need. "I'm close," Molly sobbed. "Almost . . . almost . . ."

The table beneath them groaned.

"Come for me, Molly." His questing fingers brushed against her clit, and then they pinched the sensitive flesh just hard enough to send her over the edge; a night sky filled with fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes and the deafening roar of her heart pounded in her ears.

The table slid across the floor in time with his last few strokes. He came with a muffled groan that could have been her name. Molly could feel him pulse inside her, just as she'd asked, and it was glorious.

Neither one of them moved for a long moment as they tried to catch their breath. Eventually Sherlock pushed himself off the table. He immediately offered his hand to Molly to help her up, and waited until he was certain her legs would support her before he turned to dig through her bag.

"What are—Oh, thanks." Molly gratefully took the wad of tissues he'd found and held out to her. She carefully cleaned herself up while he pulled out several more tissues and did the same.

Sherlock finished and tossed his into the nearby bin with an off-handed, "I'm sure the janitors have seen far worse."

"Where did you learn about all that?" She waved her hand toward the table.

For the first time since she'd seen him that afternoon, he looked a little uncertain. She almost thought he was blushing. "There had been a video, several actually, on John's laptop when he was still in residence at Baker Street. I remembered watching one, purely out of curiosity, and thought it might be something you—we—might want to experiment with."

"Jesus, Sherlock. Have you been doing research?"

His blush deepened. "Not really. Well, a bit. Just between cases when I was bored. Only a few books."

Molly leaned up on her toes to kiss him. "Thank you."

Sherlock accepted the kiss, then frowned. "For the research or the sex?"

"Both." She sighed and looked toward the door as she set herself to rights. "If we had more time I would offer to show you just how much I appreciated your research and the practically application, but we're lucky no one has found us yet as it is. Thank goodness there wasn't a class after mine. That could have been extremely awkward."

"Not luck," he said as he finished buttoning his fly. "I checked the schedule to make sure no one had the room reserved."

"Of course you did." She held out her hand. "I need my knickers back."

Sherlock pretended to consider it for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I'll hold on to them for a bit longer. You can have them when you get home tonight."

Molly wiggled her fingers and tried to look as stern as possible. "Sherlock."

He grinned and patted his trouser pocket. "Tonight."

Even if there wasn't another class waiting to use the room, she was still expected down in the morgue before too long. There really wasn't time to argue with him about it. With a grumble, Molly smoothed down her skirt and told herself there was no way anyone would notice once she put her lab coat on anyway.

With one last check to make sure everything was in place, Sherlock lead the way to the door. He flipped the deadbolt open with a smirk.

"You locked it. When did you-" He looked so damn smug, it made her want to smack him in the arm.

"After Mike followed the last of the students out. I didn't want anyone to interrupt our . . . discussion."

"You let me think . . . All that time . . . I thought anyone could just-" Molly sputtered.

"I know." He pushed the door open and gestured for her to go through. "Exciting, wasn't it?"

He was right. Not that she was going to admit it, not yet at any rate. Not while they were standing in the hall at Barts with strangers well within earshot. Later though, when they were home and breathlessly naked, she might admit it was a little bit of a turn on.

Sherlock reached out to grasp her arm as she passed by. He leaned down to brush a chaste kiss against her cheek, then whispered in her ear, "Next time you can be the sexy professor and I'll be the naughty student."