Everything that Kills Me - Part 4
Oct. 26th, 2019 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: Dreams. Fevered, erotic, all consuming. A woman whose beauty takes his breath away. Sherlock doesn’t ever want to wake up.
Rating: M
Everything that Kills Me
Part 4
The faint scent of antiseptic and vanilla teased his nostrils seconds before a cool touch traced his jawline. His fingers were tightly wrapped around her delicate wrist before he even opened his eyes.
When he did look up, it was to find Molly leaning over him with her hair loose around her shoulders and nearly brushing against his chest. Unbidden, his gaze flicked down her body to find she was dressed in a cami and short set he’d seen once before, when he’d let himself into Molly’s house unannounced and she’d been lounging in the sitting room with a cup of cocoa and a romance novel. From this angle he could see the outline of her breasts in the faint shadows inside her gaping top.
“You called?” she asked with a teasing lilt.
Sherlock pushed her hand away and sat up, swinging his legs down off his sofa. A quick look around the room reassured him that he was still in Baker Street. “I did no such thing.”
Molly—Not Molly, he forced himself to remember—huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me we’re back to this again.”
He rubbed the palm of his hand against the fabric of his sleep pants, trying to override the tactile memory of her soft skin under his fingers. “I fell asleep.” His voice was flat, a statement rather than a question.
“Obviously.” She sighed and eased onto the cushion next to him without waiting for an invitation. “You dreamed of me, and I came.”
“I didn’t,” Sherlock insisted. He tried to focus on what he’d been thinking of just before she’d disturbed him. There wasn’t much in his memory, just fragments of sound (a sweet laugh, an even sweeter gasp) and smell (vanilla and sweat, the musk of an aroused woman) and touch … Fuck.
“I told you.” Molly leaned her head into him and pressed her lips against his shoulder. “The question is, what could you have possibly been dreaming of to summon me like this?”
Her hand settled on his bare chest then slid it lower; slowly, as if she were offering him the chance to stop her. Her nails scratched along his skin, just hard enough to make him wish for more. Air hissed through his teeth as she paused for a second to ghost her thumb across his nipple.
He titled his head to watch her progress, clenching his jaw to bite back whatever words were threatening to escape. Whether they would have been demands for her to let him go or to keep going, he didn’t know.
“No suggestions? What about a hint?” Molly asked with feigned innocence.
She hesitated just as her fingertips barely dipped below the edge of his waistband. “Sherlock?”
He exhaled in a rush and turned and cupped the back of her neck, careful not to dislodge her hand. “You’re a smart girl, figure it out.” Then he kissed her. Open mouthed and brutal, as if he wanted to punish her for making him give in to his desire.
When he released her lips to mouth at her neck, she let out a breathy laugh and threw her head back to give him greater access. “What do you want from me, love? What will you give me in return?”
“Shut up,” Sherlock growled against her neck.
Molly pulled her hand out of his sleep pants and pushed it against his chest with surprising strength, forcing him to release her entirely. “No, no. That’s not how this works.”
He reached for her again and she continued to hold him off. “I can give you what you want, but first you have to tell me what I want to hear.” She trailed her fingers down to just below his navel and then hooked them into his waistband.
His eyes narrowed. “Why? You obviously know I want to fuck you. Why do I need to say it?”
“Because that’s the rule, Sherlock. I can’t take what you don’t freely give.” Molly’s tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip. Oddly enough, he didn’t think it was a calculated gesture. “I want to be with you, but it has to be your choice. I have to be certain, and that means you have to say it.”
She waited, unnaturally still. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, he might have imagined she was a statue.
His eyes flicked over her again, and he felt a momentary pang of guilt at the thought of using a dream vision of Molly like this. It seemed wrong, and yet he couldn’t deny himself.
“Consider this my freely given consent. Clearly, and explicitly, so there are no misunderstandings. I'm going to make you come. And then, when you’re desperate and begging for my cock, I’m going to make you come again. And then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.”
“Yes,” Molly moaned as if he was already well on his way to making good his first promise/warning.
This time, when her eyes briefly changed colour, he was expecting it. Anticipating it. Whatever the cause, whatever it signified, he’d never be able to see that shade without remembering Molly’s touch, her taste, the way she said his name as if she wanted him. Needed him. Would die if she couldn’t have him…
Just like he needed her.
She surged forward to kiss him, and he let her have her way. Let her bite at his lower lip and suck his tongue. He let her have his mouth while he shoved his sleep pants down his hips, then forced her fingers to wrap around his cock when she didn’t react quickly enough.
They both groaned at the contact.
Her hand began to stroke him, long pulls that ended with a swipe of her thumb across the head of his erection.
“Are you wet for me, Molly?”
She nodded eagerly and tried to kiss him again.
“Oh no, you have to use your words. Remember?” Somehow, he managed to smirk even as she slipped her hand lower to cradle his scrotum.
Her eyes promised retribution, but she answered him. “Wet enough that you could take me right now.” She squeezed his balls just enough to border on uncomfortable, and he found that he liked it. “But you made me a promise, and I intend to collect, Sherlock Holmes. Unless you’re all talk?”
He bared his teeth and practically snarled as he pushed her willing body down on the sofa and slid to his knees on the floor. Molly lifted her hips to help him pull her shorts off. She yelped when he wrapped his hands around her calves and yanked her closer to the edge of the cushion, but then he shouldered her thighs apart and all she could do was moan his name.
It had been years since he’d done this, but instinct and the way her toes curled and her breath stuttered guided him toward what she liked best. She shied away from direct, hard contact with her clit; but when his tongue flicked around it, she sunk her hands into his hair and pulled him closer. She arched her back and nearly slid off the sofa when he slid a finger into her cunt and curled it upward.
When he added a second one, she came hard.
He gentled and slowed his movements until her channel stopped fluttering; then, before her breathing could even out entirely, started all over again. She cried out when he circled her clit with his tongue.
“Sherlock!”
He raised his head just enough to see over her mound. She was watching him. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was damp with sweat around her temples. “I want you inside me.”
“I will be.” He bit the inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a temporary red mark. “But not until you come again.”
It didn’t take as long the second time; her body was still flushed and sensitive from the lingering aftereffects of her orgasm. She screamed when she came again. Begged him to fuck her, to fill her up.
He considered punishing her for her earlier teasing by pushing her for a third, but Molly took the matter out of his hands. She shoved the coffee table out of the way with one foot, then used her body to force him onto his back.
Sherlock grunted as her weight settled on his chest; but his hands went to her hips to pull her even closer, making it clear that he was pleased with their current position. For now.
She lowered her head and reached down to grasp his cock, and rubbed the head against the wetness between her legs. As the tip of him slid into her heat, Molly looked up with a satisfied smile.
Her eyes were completely gold.
He knew he should be alarmed—should push her off and scramble away—but he only wanted her more.
This Molly, his Molly, was breathtaking.
The thought of being at her mercy made him shiver with need.
Torturously slowly, she lowered herself the rest of the way onto his cock.
He’d forgotten he was still wearing his sleep pants when he tried to bend his knees for better leverage and the elastic band tightened across his thighs, where they’d been since he’d shoved them down earlier.
“Hold on, I need to-“ he started, but Molly dug her short nails—so different then the blood red tipped talons they’d been the first night he’d dreamt of her—into his chest and shook her head.
“Don’t. Stop.” It was an order and he eagerly complied. If she wanted to ride him like this, both of them still partially dressed and spread out on the floor, then that’s what she would have.
The heat of her skin against his, the silken grip of her cunt, her scent, the way she had begun to gasp his name over and over… All of it was combining to make him lightheaded. The only thing he could focus on was the electric tingle starting at the base of his spine.
“Close,” he managed to choke out a warning as his balls began to tighten and draw closer to his body.
“Then let yourself go.”
Part of him wanted to hold on, wanted to prolong the moment, but the rest couldn’t deny her.
He came with a curse. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her in place against his chest as his hips stuttered against her. She closed the distance between their lips and kissed him, sucked on his tongue until he was breathless. His cock pulsed inside her warmth far longer than he could ever remember experiencing before. He felt euphoric and utterly drained at the same time.
Sherlock fought a losing battle to keep his eyes open.
Molly murmured reassuring words as she peppered kisses along his jaw. “You were so good for me, my love. Now I’ll never let you go.”
Part 1 / Part 5
Rating: M
Everything that Kills Me
Part 4
The faint scent of antiseptic and vanilla teased his nostrils seconds before a cool touch traced his jawline. His fingers were tightly wrapped around her delicate wrist before he even opened his eyes.
When he did look up, it was to find Molly leaning over him with her hair loose around her shoulders and nearly brushing against his chest. Unbidden, his gaze flicked down her body to find she was dressed in a cami and short set he’d seen once before, when he’d let himself into Molly’s house unannounced and she’d been lounging in the sitting room with a cup of cocoa and a romance novel. From this angle he could see the outline of her breasts in the faint shadows inside her gaping top.
“You called?” she asked with a teasing lilt.
Sherlock pushed her hand away and sat up, swinging his legs down off his sofa. A quick look around the room reassured him that he was still in Baker Street. “I did no such thing.”
Molly—Not Molly, he forced himself to remember—huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me we’re back to this again.”
He rubbed the palm of his hand against the fabric of his sleep pants, trying to override the tactile memory of her soft skin under his fingers. “I fell asleep.” His voice was flat, a statement rather than a question.
“Obviously.” She sighed and eased onto the cushion next to him without waiting for an invitation. “You dreamed of me, and I came.”
“I didn’t,” Sherlock insisted. He tried to focus on what he’d been thinking of just before she’d disturbed him. There wasn’t much in his memory, just fragments of sound (a sweet laugh, an even sweeter gasp) and smell (vanilla and sweat, the musk of an aroused woman) and touch … Fuck.
“I told you.” Molly leaned her head into him and pressed her lips against his shoulder. “The question is, what could you have possibly been dreaming of to summon me like this?”
Her hand settled on his bare chest then slid it lower; slowly, as if she were offering him the chance to stop her. Her nails scratched along his skin, just hard enough to make him wish for more. Air hissed through his teeth as she paused for a second to ghost her thumb across his nipple.
He titled his head to watch her progress, clenching his jaw to bite back whatever words were threatening to escape. Whether they would have been demands for her to let him go or to keep going, he didn’t know.
“No suggestions? What about a hint?” Molly asked with feigned innocence.
She hesitated just as her fingertips barely dipped below the edge of his waistband. “Sherlock?”
He exhaled in a rush and turned and cupped the back of her neck, careful not to dislodge her hand. “You’re a smart girl, figure it out.” Then he kissed her. Open mouthed and brutal, as if he wanted to punish her for making him give in to his desire.
When he released her lips to mouth at her neck, she let out a breathy laugh and threw her head back to give him greater access. “What do you want from me, love? What will you give me in return?”
“Shut up,” Sherlock growled against her neck.
Molly pulled her hand out of his sleep pants and pushed it against his chest with surprising strength, forcing him to release her entirely. “No, no. That’s not how this works.”
He reached for her again and she continued to hold him off. “I can give you what you want, but first you have to tell me what I want to hear.” She trailed her fingers down to just below his navel and then hooked them into his waistband.
His eyes narrowed. “Why? You obviously know I want to fuck you. Why do I need to say it?”
“Because that’s the rule, Sherlock. I can’t take what you don’t freely give.” Molly’s tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip. Oddly enough, he didn’t think it was a calculated gesture. “I want to be with you, but it has to be your choice. I have to be certain, and that means you have to say it.”
She waited, unnaturally still. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, he might have imagined she was a statue.
His eyes flicked over her again, and he felt a momentary pang of guilt at the thought of using a dream vision of Molly like this. It seemed wrong, and yet he couldn’t deny himself.
“Consider this my freely given consent. Clearly, and explicitly, so there are no misunderstandings. I'm going to make you come. And then, when you’re desperate and begging for my cock, I’m going to make you come again. And then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.”
“Yes,” Molly moaned as if he was already well on his way to making good his first promise/warning.
This time, when her eyes briefly changed colour, he was expecting it. Anticipating it. Whatever the cause, whatever it signified, he’d never be able to see that shade without remembering Molly’s touch, her taste, the way she said his name as if she wanted him. Needed him. Would die if she couldn’t have him…
Just like he needed her.
She surged forward to kiss him, and he let her have her way. Let her bite at his lower lip and suck his tongue. He let her have his mouth while he shoved his sleep pants down his hips, then forced her fingers to wrap around his cock when she didn’t react quickly enough.
They both groaned at the contact.
Her hand began to stroke him, long pulls that ended with a swipe of her thumb across the head of his erection.
“Are you wet for me, Molly?”
She nodded eagerly and tried to kiss him again.
“Oh no, you have to use your words. Remember?” Somehow, he managed to smirk even as she slipped her hand lower to cradle his scrotum.
Her eyes promised retribution, but she answered him. “Wet enough that you could take me right now.” She squeezed his balls just enough to border on uncomfortable, and he found that he liked it. “But you made me a promise, and I intend to collect, Sherlock Holmes. Unless you’re all talk?”
He bared his teeth and practically snarled as he pushed her willing body down on the sofa and slid to his knees on the floor. Molly lifted her hips to help him pull her shorts off. She yelped when he wrapped his hands around her calves and yanked her closer to the edge of the cushion, but then he shouldered her thighs apart and all she could do was moan his name.
It had been years since he’d done this, but instinct and the way her toes curled and her breath stuttered guided him toward what she liked best. She shied away from direct, hard contact with her clit; but when his tongue flicked around it, she sunk her hands into his hair and pulled him closer. She arched her back and nearly slid off the sofa when he slid a finger into her cunt and curled it upward.
When he added a second one, she came hard.
He gentled and slowed his movements until her channel stopped fluttering; then, before her breathing could even out entirely, started all over again. She cried out when he circled her clit with his tongue.
“Sherlock!”
He raised his head just enough to see over her mound. She was watching him. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was damp with sweat around her temples. “I want you inside me.”
“I will be.” He bit the inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a temporary red mark. “But not until you come again.”
It didn’t take as long the second time; her body was still flushed and sensitive from the lingering aftereffects of her orgasm. She screamed when she came again. Begged him to fuck her, to fill her up.
He considered punishing her for her earlier teasing by pushing her for a third, but Molly took the matter out of his hands. She shoved the coffee table out of the way with one foot, then used her body to force him onto his back.
Sherlock grunted as her weight settled on his chest; but his hands went to her hips to pull her even closer, making it clear that he was pleased with their current position. For now.
She lowered her head and reached down to grasp his cock, and rubbed the head against the wetness between her legs. As the tip of him slid into her heat, Molly looked up with a satisfied smile.
Her eyes were completely gold.
He knew he should be alarmed—should push her off and scramble away—but he only wanted her more.
This Molly, his Molly, was breathtaking.
The thought of being at her mercy made him shiver with need.
Torturously slowly, she lowered herself the rest of the way onto his cock.
He’d forgotten he was still wearing his sleep pants when he tried to bend his knees for better leverage and the elastic band tightened across his thighs, where they’d been since he’d shoved them down earlier.
“Hold on, I need to-“ he started, but Molly dug her short nails—so different then the blood red tipped talons they’d been the first night he’d dreamt of her—into his chest and shook her head.
“Don’t. Stop.” It was an order and he eagerly complied. If she wanted to ride him like this, both of them still partially dressed and spread out on the floor, then that’s what she would have.
The heat of her skin against his, the silken grip of her cunt, her scent, the way she had begun to gasp his name over and over… All of it was combining to make him lightheaded. The only thing he could focus on was the electric tingle starting at the base of his spine.
“Close,” he managed to choke out a warning as his balls began to tighten and draw closer to his body.
“Then let yourself go.”
Part of him wanted to hold on, wanted to prolong the moment, but the rest couldn’t deny her.
He came with a curse. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her in place against his chest as his hips stuttered against her. She closed the distance between their lips and kissed him, sucked on his tongue until he was breathless. His cock pulsed inside her warmth far longer than he could ever remember experiencing before. He felt euphoric and utterly drained at the same time.
Sherlock fought a losing battle to keep his eyes open.
Molly murmured reassuring words as she peppered kisses along his jaw. “You were so good for me, my love. Now I’ll never let you go.”
Part 1 / Part 5