Note: Some people asked for another chapter of this and also I liked writing it too much not to do another one... Thanks a lot to my beta Emcee Frodis! So here it is: the next morning. I hope you like it. No plot whatsoever... just porn.
Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own anything.
It was still dark outside when Molly woke up for the first time. She was disoriented for a second as she comprehended that she wasn't in her own bed. It was nice, though; she was comfortably warm and incredibly relaxed. A quiet snore behind her took her attention and made her realise that she was being hugged tightly from behind. Suddenly she was painfully aware that she was naked and the person - man - behind her was so as well. Wha- Oh.
Molly recalled the evening and blushed violently, happy that it was still dark and that whoever was spooning her at the moment was fast asleep. It took another few seconds until she could make out the second figure, lying an arm's length away, facing the wall. The light head of short hair told her that it was John, making the naked big spoon Sherlock. The doctor was wearing a t-shirt at least. She wasn't sure if there were bottoms as well as his lower body was hidden under the sheets.
She took a calming breath, careful not to move and wake one of them, and waited for the panic. Shockingly, it didn't come and all too easily she drifted off to sleep again.
Sherlock awoke suddenly. He was instantly aware of Molly's body pressed against him and was surprised that it didn't feel absolutely revolting. Actually, it was… nice.
The night previous had been rather interesting. His mind had raced with the amount of sensations it had been filing away rapidly. But still, he had the suspicion that he hadn't captured all there was to it. He was still unsure of so many things. Being unsure always unsettled him slightly. Quickly he made a list of gathered information while Molly and John were still asleep and unable to disrupt him.
He had enjoyed himself. Sure of it.
The others had enjoyed themselves as well. Sure of it.
To begin with, he had watched them out of scientific interest. Almost sure of it.
He had joined in out of scientific interest. Debatable.
John was still his best friend. Sure of it. Molly had suddenly become someone he thought of as a friend. Oh, yes. Both of them were his friends. Interesting - Very, very good friends. Sure of it. He liked the noises they made when they climaxed. Hmm. His clinical thoughts moved towards more of a slur of sensations and memories of pleasure.
Molly's skin is unbelievably smooth. The thought came unbidden to him, but it was there, cemented in his head. Why? Only then did he realise that he'd been rubbing patterns into the skin of her thigh for a few minutes. Oh. Ohhh. He allowed himself to slip out of his preoccupation with his mind acknowledged his body again. It was reacting very distinctly to the fact that a big portion of the aforementioned soft skin of Molly Hooper was pressed against him.
That was the moment he decided a repeat of last night's happenings was due. To gain more information, of course. Well, some deviation from the original conditions would be all right.
As pleasurable as it was being fellated – no, 'receiving a great blowjob' fit better – he wanted more. He eyed Molly, then John. Both were still fast asleep. Sherlock was sure that at least Molly wouldn't be for long. Soon she would sense the growing erection pressing into her buttocks, especially as Sherlock had started shifting and nudging her unconsciously.
The hand on Molly's thigh began circling wider patterns, travelling to her stomach, and when he reached her lower abdomen he had to stop himself. It was hard, for now he picked up her sweet scent and it was very tempting. Sherlock was certain that invading her privacy so severely required her knowledge and approval.
To get her to approve of his ministrations she had to be awake. Sherlock lowered his head and started licking and sucking her neck tenderly, working his way up to her ear. When he nibbled at the lobe she shifted, still half asleep, and mumbled incoherencies. Her hand came up to her ear to get rid of the unidentified intruder stealing her sleep and ungracefully collided with his nose.
"Good morning… Isn't it?" Sherlock purred while holding on to her stomach and rubbing soothing circles into it with his thumb.
Molly stiffened. "Oh."
He carried on licking her ear and throat until she slightly relaxed again, her hand still hovering in front of his face. Sherlock tentatively rocked against her backside, making her feel his now hard cock.
"Oh," she breathed out again, the word now carrying a lot more connotations.
Not knowing how to ask permission with words Sherlock moved his hand lower on her stomach, long fingers slowly reaching out. Then he stopped both his hand and his nibbling of her throat and marginally raised his head, trying to look down into her eyes. They were closed but he could see her pupils flicker behind the lids. Molly was excited, or aroused, or agitated - or all the above. He was waiting for a reaction, some sign of denial or acceptance. He was hoping for the latter with an intensity that baffled him.
After what seemed like hours but of course were merely seconds she simply said, "yes, it is a good morning." Her voice was rough from sleep. She opened her legs slightly, inviting him to continue and he instinctively wriggled his knee between her thighs. Her hand moved towards him once again but this time grabbed his hair and pulled his head back down to her neck. Before he reconnected with her skin, he saw her glancing at the still sleeping form of John.
"Don't worry," Sherlock whispered in her ear, "he will be awake soon enough. But until then-"
He sucked at Molly's skin more forcefully now and finally let his hand move those few inches lower, one finger sliding between her folds. Molly shuddered and hummed contentedly.
"You are remarkably wet already," Sherlock purred against her skin, not able to stop the thought from coming out of his mouth. So he did dirty talk then? Well, Molly seemed to like it, as she began moving her hips against his finger ever so slightly. Her movements encouraged him to start slowly pumping into her, soon adding a second digit. She wriggled and began trembling. Sherlock noticed her respiration having quickened by a fraction, but his brain was too distracted to determine it accurately.
When he withdrew his fingers Molly made a small noise of disappointment that turned into a soft moan when he began stroking her clit. It was barely a caress, just the lightest of touches. And Sherlock liked the needy sounds that escaped Molly and how her hips jerked to produce more friction. When he opened his eyes again he peeked at her breasts. Her nipples were hard and he regretted having only one hand available due to their positions on the bed. He would have loved to trace her curves, maybe pinch those nipples teasingly. But he certainly liked his current power over Molly's pleasure too much to dare neglecting his hand's present task.
It took a lot of self-restraint not to rub harder and faster. Sherlock wanted to hear those lovely sounds grow louder for him. But he also loved the control, every second of her pleading, the slowly built up tension, and wanted it to last as long as possible. Molly was very responsive to his fingers' movements. Her body was completely relaxed now and he relished the feeling of her trusting him completely.
The pathologist was playing with her breasts now and bucked her hips back and forth, meeting his fingers and pushing her rear into his groin. Sherlock gasped at the sensation, breathing into her ear heavily. Suddenly the desire to feel her around his cock was overwhelming. A glance at John confirmed that his flatmate was still sleeping. Surprising, considering the quite substantial noise they - Molly - had already made. Maybe it was better this way – Sherlock was sure that his friend would complicate everything with his supreme embarrassment. But still, he felt a strange loss when he realised he wasn't going to share the moment with the other man. Molly's fingernails suddenly burying themselves in one of his buttocks snapped him out of this trail of thought and he concentrated on her again.
"Molly, I… I want to be inside you," he panted.
"Ahhh, yes. P..Please," came her immediate answer. Her voice was raw.
Sherlock promptly flipped over, fished a condom out of a drawer of his bedside cabinet - John had bought them for Sherlock during the incident with the Woman, a half-joking indication he should be ready in case the mood struck. He put it on in record time. Gently, he hooked his hand under Molly's knee and lifted her leg. She reached for him and guided him to her entrance. Before he entered her she turned her head to look at him for the first time that morning. Her eyes were warm and her pupils fully dilated. She smiled. Sherlock's chest grew inexplicably tighter the moment her eyes met his and he softly whispered, "you okay?"
Molly seemed surprised by his tender tone. She nodded and, while still holding her gaze, he pushed into her slowly. Both of them sighed when he filled her completely.
Sherlock set a slow pace, withdrawing and pushing back in with long, languid thrusts. Soon Molly started panting and whimpering anew. He knew she had been close to climaxing before and was building up to it again. But he also knew that this pace was not going to push her over the edge just yet. Still, her moans grew louder again. Sherlock's gaze regularly caught on the back of John's head and he could see Molly's was as well.
A soft "Oh, Sherlock," sounded from Molly and he instantly tried to store away the sound of her voice saying his name in such esctasy in his mind palace. The plea caused him to move his hips faster. That's when he saw the tiny motion on the other side of the bed. The detective smirked for more than one reason.
John had the dirtiest dream. He was in his living room taking Molly – Molly, the pathologist – roughly from behind. It was glorious and intense. While this qualified as a dirty dream, what made it the dirtiest dream was that Sherlock was watching them going at it like rabbits. But this felt far too real… And suddenly it hit him mid-dream: It had actually happened - that was why it was so detailed. And so great. And so frightening.
Holy crap, what have we done?
The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come. Instead, he decided he could at least enjoy the dream while it lasted and leave the worries for later.
Molly's moans grew louder and increasingly realistic. John slowly felt himself slip out of his dreaming state and regretted having to leave those sweet sounds behind when he realised that they were not fading. Instead, they grew louder and louder. A breathy 'Oh, Sherlock' was what finally woke him up. He felt the mattress bounce slightly with shifting weight beneath his saggy body.
It took him some moments to process what was happening. But then Molly's sighs and Sherlock's grunts left no doubt about what was happening behind his back. John felt blood rush to his head; it was almost a spinning sensation. At the same time, the sparse residual blood in him was apparently needed in his groin.
Why am I wearing a shirt but no pants?
The doctor didn't know what to do now. He really was aching to see them, feel them. But he couldn't just casually join in, could he? On the other hand, did people expect privacy when they started humping each other on the same fucking bed as someone else? Someone else who has shared an evening of great sex with them before…
"John, will you turn around already?"
The doctor stopped breathing when his flatmate's laboured voice interrupted his thoughts. So Sherlock knew he was awake. He contemplated just ignoring him, as well as his very persistent erection, when Sherlock spoke again.
"Please, John. Did you really think you could hide a breathing pattern that is so different from a sleeping person's? I may be distracted in a lovely way but I'm still not deaf and blind."
John heard Molly giggle at this. "See. Even our delicious pathologist - ahh - knew. And she is very distracted, being merely moments away from her first orgasm of the morning."
"First?" Molly's delighted tone was impossible to miss. Especially since it was topped by a high pitched moan that followed a sudden bounce of the mattress beneath John. His mind's eye filled the gaps left by the lack of any visuals.
Oh my god, this is the most ridiculously hot situation anyone was ever in. Ever. An involuntary throaty sound escaped him. He knew it didn't make much sense to go on pretending to be asleep.
"Of course, if you cannot bring yourself to turn towards us… I can always describe the show to you," Sherlock went on almost teasingly. The way he emphasised the word 'show' left no doubt that he was executing some weird payback for his friend's actions the night before. John had made Sherlock a filthy spectator and the same was about to happen to the doctor now. The thought made him impossibly harder.
For cruel seconds the only sounds were the heavy breathing and gasps of Molly and Sherlock. Then the detective continued, "well, John. When you were still sleeping I started pleasuring Molly with my hand and sucked a very pretty mark into the skin on the right side of her throat. I am positive that she liked that a lot." John could hear that a broad smile was plastered on his friend's face right now.
"She tastes fantastic. And that was just her neck. I do envy you, you know. You got to taste so much more yesterday."
John couldn't help whimpering weakly only to realise that Molly had done the same, but her whimper was desperately pleading as well. The rapidly quickening bouncing of the mattress was almost driving him crazy.
"I presume you've guessed –uh-," Sherlock panted, "that I'm now fucking her." The dirty language caused a shiver in John. "And she does feel so incredibly good. Warm and tight."
"I'm holding her leg so she's spread open wider for me. Like that I can-" Sherlock was interrupted by Molly crying out. John remembered the sound from the previous day. She really was close. He wanted to see her when she climaxed but was still not sure he'd survive the moment he had to look into their eyes. This was just so… so what?
"Like that I can thrust deeper," Sherlock continued seemingly unfazed. "The knowledge that I'm filling her completely… It's quite intoxicating, John." Another moment of silence was followed by a loud moan from the pathologist. Suddenly, John felt Molly's hand cradling his skull, stroking his hair, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
As quickly as it was possible without falling out of bed he turned around, looking into her deep sparkling eyes. He grabbed her hand and placed quick open-mouthed kisses on her palm and fingers.
Molly closed her eyes, her brows furrowed and her body shook. Her mouth was wide open as she came, stuttering out cries with quick breaths.
When John had finally turned around Sherlock could see his tortured face. Thankfully, the doctor relaxed quickly when he found Molly's eyes. Now that John was actively experiencing everything with them, the tiny knot in Sherlock's stomach loosened.
Molly's orgasm had hit abruptly and the feeling of her muscles clenching around him caused a strangled grunt to escape him as he buried his face in her shoulder. He slowed his thrusts and gently rocked her through her climax. When she went completely limp he stopped moving altogether and briefly thought about when it would be appropriate to start simply fucking her wildly.
Not yet, he decided. Also, there was a newcomer to deal with first.
Sherlock saw John was hesitantly turning his gaze away from Molly's face now, trying to capture the other man's eyes. He ignored it pointedly, leaning over Molly and kissing her briefly but passionately. Only then did he raise his head and looked straight at his flatmate.
"Hello," was the slightly anticlimactic salutation he came up with.
"Hey," John answered. Sherlock could barely see the doctor's pupils as his lids were almost closed. There was a mixture of lust and shock in them.
"Care to come closer?" With that, Sherlock carefully let go of Molly's leg and extended his arm invitingly towards John. Molly instinctively hooked her leg around him and dug her heel in his arse for balance. She wriggled and tried impaling herself on him, but didn't have enough leverage for the task. Taking it as a clear sign that it was all right to continue moving, Sherlock began slowly pumping into her once again.
The pathologist's hands were pulling John closer and finally Sherlock could reach him as well. Not giving his friend a chance to object, he yanked him forward and caught his lips violently, biting, sucking and licking wildly. John responded beautifully but soon tried to calm him by massaging his scalp soothingly.
"Jesus, Sherlock. No need to try and eat me." John breathed heavily when he broke their kiss and he looked at the taller man with a smile. "I won't go away, okay?!"
Sherlock nodded, trying to force some regularity into the thrusts that had become a bit uncoordinated while kissing John. Molly's warmth and the additional pressure caused by her foot pushing him into her repeatedly affected him, his balls tightening dangerously. He concentrated not to be washed away by the sensations and come right away. Sherlock was not a man of empty promises – he planned on giving Molly her second orgasm and making it unforgettable. So he held on for dear life. Which was hard considering John was looking at him like a horny teenager.
John looked at Sherlock after snogging him and steadily his doubts started to vanish. He had moved closer to them and was only inches away from completely covering Molly's front with his body. He felt her hot breath on his face and upper chest and didn't know what to look at - or touch - next.
Sherlock's locks were a beautiful mess and his skin was glinting with sweat. His swollen lips reconnected with Molly's shoulder, which made her gasp. Following the line of her neck upwards John's gaze travelled to the pathologist's mouth. It was hanging open, silently crying in pleasure and the doctor licked his own lips at the sight of her slowly coming undone again. Quickly, John moved in and gave her a delicate peck. Then another. And another. The kiss developed calmly and pleasantly, her tongue finding his and stroking it sweetly. His left hand travelled to her hip, massaging it. John felt her breasts bounce against his torso as her whole body was rocked into his by Sherlock's powerful thrusts. It caused a gorgeous friction and a moan escaped his throat, being immediately answered with one of Molly's.
The pathologist grabbed the back of his head and pulled his hair while still kissing him and in a reflex John's hips bucked forwards. He hissed and let his hand roam freely over Molly's leg until he collided with Sherlock's, which was also holding on to her. John was startled and froze momentarily. But then his flatmate's thumb rubbed soothingly over his fingers and John relaxed again.
It's all fine, he reminded himself.
The consulting detective's thrusts picked up pace again and Molly had to break their kiss to be able to inhale properly. Her breathing was so quick that John was almost feeling obliged - from a medical standpoint - to worry about her wellbeing. Her hands were still in his hair and she looked so fucking beautiful.
"Oh my god! Ohmygodohmygod. Sherlock! J-John!"
Her cry sounded like poetry to the doctor and, realising that he definitely wanted to take part in causing Molly's second climax, he moved his hand to her mound and began circling her clit. It was a weird angle and Sherlock's balls kept brushing against his fingers. It made him feel so filthy, but was plainly brilliant. He shut his eyes and little sparks were reflected on the insides of his lids.
Without realising it, John had begun mirroring Sherlock's thrusts and repeatedly bucked into Molly's stomach. He desperately wanted more friction and groaned needily. That's when he felt a hand finally gripping his cock, starting to pump in a frenzy. With that pace he wasn't going to last, but he didn't care one bit. He met the movements eagerly and faintly became aware that Molly's hand was still in his hair, which made the hand currently wanking him off…
"Jesus fucking Christ in a chip shop, Sherlock! –Urrrrghngh!"
John came abruptly and hard, spilling all over his friend's graceful, long fingers and Molly's stomach. He opened his eyes while still pumping through his orgasm. His vision was blurred but he saw two pairs of eyes staring at him, entranced and strained. They were both smiling warmly even though they were close to their own peaks.
The doctor increased the pressure on Molly's clit and she came almost on demand, shuddering and screaming, pulling his hair and then swinging her arm around to squeeze Sherlock's arse. The detective pumped into her hard and desperately, grunting with exertion and built up pleasure, racing towards release. His eyes were closed and his hand moved to hold Molly's waist tightly, keeping her in place to receive his merciless thrusts. It was an astonishingly beautiful sight.
He threw his head back and pressed out a single shout when he came, his hips jerking and his nails digging in Molly's waist.
Sherlock was still breathing unevenly when he carefully pulled out of Molly and disposed of the condom. When he encircled her upper body once again and pressed a light kiss on one of the marks he had left earlier she felt dizzy. She blinked a few times to regain some control over her thoughts and/or her body. The pathologist lay limply in between two deliciously spent men. Their combined warmth was lulling and calming her.
Sherlock wordlessly and naturally nuzzled her neck, and John smiled weakly but contentedly while rubbing patterns into her thigh with his fingertips. Molly knew that she should be anxious. She just couldn't be. Not when it felt so right being framed by these two bodies on either side of her.
She also knew that they really had to talk about this. And they would. And it would be all right. But now they just enjoyed.