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Enjoy this chapter and make sure you have a fan near by cause it's heating up...
Madeline sat nervously, her knees bouncing as she watched Sherlock look under the microscope across the island.
"Problem?" Sherlock questioned, not looking up as he switched slides.
Sherlock blinked numerous times at the obvious answer to her question. "Looking at slides."
Madeline nearly had to roll her eyes at herself and her stupid question, "Of what?"
Sherlock went back into his slides casually. Madeline chewed on her bottom lip. "Can I see?"
"You want to see?" He repeated in disbelief, he looked at her curiously. Madeline nodded her head. Quickly she stood up and walked around to stand in front of Sherlock, who was still seated on his stool watching her with surprise and curiosity. "You're actually interested?"
"Yes. I know you like ballet, so I thought I would take interest in what you do." Madeline shrugged innocently, "Now," She cleared her throat leaning forwards and slowly (but surely) sat down on the edge of Sherlock's stool... that he was still sitting on. She felt his legs twitch in shock around her as they spread to accommodate her between his thighs. His breathing hitched. Madeline smiled knowing he couldn't see her face. "So... which kind am I looking at now?"
"Um..." Sherlock's voice cracked as she was nearly sitting on his lap, he felt the room grow warmer at her sudden closeness to his... trousers. "The Tesco brand."
Madeline lifted her head for a moment, "Oh, you mean real tissues."
"Yes." Sherlock looked around for a moment as Madeline settled onto his seat between his legs, scooting closer and closer to the bulge that was growing unfortunately tight.
"And why are you looking at different tissues?"
"You're on a case?"
"One brought on through John's blog." He licked his lips and took a deep breath as the scent of her hair consumed his senses, "Not very interesting. A four. But the research was promisi- uh- ah-" Sherlock slightly gasped as Madeline scooted back, now fully pressed against him. Biting his lip Sherlock took a deep breath through his nose his hands subconsciously resting on her slender hips. Holding her in place. The feel of her round bum pressed against his member a blissful feeling of euphoria.
"It looks different under here..." Madeline mumbled, shifting in the chair to get comfortable- clearly not aware of the effect she was having. Sherlock's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.
"Yes well..." Sherlock's heart raced, his pants tightened and he was sure that if she hadn't already- she would soon feel it pulsating against her. His fingers tightened, digging her hips. Slowly leaning forward, Sherlock placed his lips against Madeline's ear and whispered heatedly making her gasp as his right hand trailed up to her breast, his fingers pressing into her nipple through her tight shirt, "Many things look different when they're finally exposed."
"Sh-Sherlock..." She gasped, "What are- christ!"
Biting her lip, Madeline groaned and arched her back as his fingers pinched her nipple through her thin shirt. Her fingers clawing at his thighs, digging into his flesh as his tongue licked the side of her warm neck- his dark eyes watching her jaw clench as her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her neck to him.
"I'm going to make you scream." Sherlock said darkly into her ear, his voice threatening her with the utmost pleasure. She placed her hands top his that were resting and massaging her tits- encouraging his hands as she caressed his fingers.
Her legs spread, her dress riding up; turning her head, her wet juicy lips against his ear as she spoke, her warm breath making him ache for the feel of her tongue against him, "mmmm fuck me, Sherlock..."
"JESUS CHRIST!" Sherlock gasped desperately for breath as his eyes shot open and wide. His body was covered in sweat, his heart beating so loud he could feel it in every inch of his body and hear it pounding in his ears. Looking around with wide eyes her took quick inventory of his surroundings.
Only asleep two hours or so.
Madeline- not awake.
Drooling onto my pillow.
(Note to self: Check personal mental status of having wet dream about girl who's currently snoring with her mouth open and ruining my Egyptian white cotton pillow covers)
Christ what the hell was that...
Throat soar. John's not home, surely he would be down by this point.
She didn't wake from my scream. Good.
Typical. Not even an earthquake could wake her.
(…reminder to self: test different frequencies of what wakes her and comparison with that of a bear in hibernation)
Sherlock's hand went down to his hips and he hissed as he pressed his first finger into the tip of his harsh, thick, erection. Sherlock hissed, closing his eyes in pain.
From time to time he would take care of himself, purely in a scientific sense.
But these dreams… these dreams were driving him mad in a way he'd never felt before.
He had lately been avoiding… holding himself over. Convincing himself it was because he didn't have to quite yet- but more afraid for the enjoyment of it he was sure to have more than any other time. His body ached for relief.
All due to the girl who was drooling and snoring lightly with hair like a jungle creature and ruining his favourite bed sheets.
His eyes slipped to the side to look at her small form, tangled up in his sheets… her olive skin striking against the white cotton, her hair cascading in waves all over the pillow, her bum perched up as her knee was tucked into her stomach- her mouth open and her heart shaped lips perfectly red and pouty.
Sherlock's member twitched against his hand as he bit his lip and groaned suddenly. Looking down he saw his hand was wrapped around his cock, realizing he'd been touching himself as he was looking at her.
Christ- get up. Get up you sick, horrendous... Sherlock mentally berated himself as he quickly and quietly got up out of the bed. She's not one of John's porn collections on his computer.
Sherlock quickly and swiftly made his way to the loo, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him. She doesn't know- we'll keep it that way, won't we? God only knows what she would think of me- oh Christ.
Sherlock looked up at his face in the mirror over the sink. His pupils were dilated, his lips red, face flushed, breathing in heavy pants, heart rate so high he could still hear it beating against his eardrums.
Swallowing, he reached over and locked the door. Leaning back, his back against the wall across from the sink, he finally pulled down his pants and allowed himself to look down at his member.
It was aching, swollen, and red. Precum seeping through the tender tip.
Is it worse to think about her? Is it the same as looking at her? Sherlock questioned himself before even daring to touch his pained cock.
…it's not like I haven't thought about her before.
…or every time.
With a sigh, Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. Slowly he wrapped his left hand around his thick member and gave it a light squeeze; he sighed in relief. His right hand shakily slid down his bare chest and cupped his full ballsack, tugging on it lightly.
Biting his lip he held back his groan, not wanting to wake anyone and bring attention to his weakness.
Sherlock stroked up and down his cock, caressing it with his fingers. He pulled back his foreskin and exposed his tip- running his thumb across it he spread his precum down his shaft.
Closing his eyes he focused on his mind palace. Running up the stairs, taking two at a time. Up, up, up to the very top where there was one door in the most annoying shade of light pink—the same shade that matched the ballet points he'd once bought her.
His hand wrapped around the door knob, his coat whipping behind him as he opened the door. The room was large, white, and had open windows with fresh air blowing in softly. His eyes fell to the floor where Madeline sat in her short black spandex shorts and matching tube top that she always wore when she went to ballet rehearsals. There were paint splatters all over her skin as she was finger painting nonsense onto the canvas. Looking up, her 28C cup breasts (which he'd deduced from within moments of first realizing his attraction to her) lightly spilled out of her tight top; she smiled brightly at him.
Sherlock walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his hands on his knees as he watched her stand in front of him, "Want me to show you a move?" She smiled as she stepped towards him in between his legs, "I know you like ballet, you sneak."
Sherlock swallowed and looked up at her, his voice thick. "Yes." Behind her was the theatre- La Scala in Milan, Italy. The most beautiful theater Sherlock had ever been to- the one he imagined Madeline dancing at.
"But…" Madeline continued humorously, stopping before him as she placed her arms around his shoulders, "You've already seen my performances…"
One by one she placed her legs on either sides of his hips, sitting on his lap as his hands rode along the softness of her thighs. He could smell her, look into her doe brown eyes and feel her breath against his cheek as she leaned forward, "Maybe it's time to show you some moves you haven't seen yet…" she whispered, placing her lips against his own.
Picking up his hand, Madeline placed it against her breast, moaning into his mouth as he squeezed it softly.
"Madeline…" Sherlock whispered. His abs tightened as he felt his high grow closer, and closer.. and closer...
Sherlock bit his lip and muffled his groan as he came onto his stomach; stroking himself until the last of his cum came out in quick, warm spurts.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he finally opened his heavy eyes and let his cock drop out of his trembling hand. He waited a moment.
Silently, Sherlock cleaned up his mess, throwing the paper in the toilet and flushing it away before pulling up his pants. His mind, absolutely blank as he finished and leaned forwards against the sink.
He looked at himself in the mirror once more. Sherlock Holmes hadn't experienced anything sexual with another person since his druggie years- during which he could barely remember what he'd done and with whom.
Of course he'd gotten checked afterwards; Mycroft had duly told him 'You're lucky you don't have some awful STD that would ensure my emancipation from you as my brother. Either that or you never even had sex and you're still a virgin, aren't you? Well, are you? Not going to answer? Well then, I'll just have to assume you still are. Far more fun for me. How quaint.'
To which Sherlock had put Mycroft in a chokehold, which he only released once the nurses forced him away.
(…He may have still been a bit high at that point.)
But he remembered it vividly.
Sighing Sherlock shook his head looking down; sex was an area of his life he'd been almost certain he would never have to reopen unless for a case. He took it out of his life to focus on work- and it seemed to be the only thing he could think of right then. And he knew it had nothing to do with Madeline's case. Being with her had nothing to do with her case.
Wait… Sherlock thought curiously as he looked down into the small bin, an empty opened package for half sized batteries lay at the bottom. Newly changed yesterday afternoon… only items in there. Madeline's, obviously. For…
Sherlock drew a blank. She didn't have anything that needed batteries.
Madeline's tired voice from the other side of the door knocked Sherlock out of his thoughts. Opening the door to find her standing with heavy tired eyes and a confused expression.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock questioned.
Madeline looked around, "Um, going to the bathroom." She stated bluntly, rubbing her eye, "I have to pee."
"Oh." Sherlock nodded, opening the door further allowing her in.
Madeline walked in staring at Sherlock curiously, "What are you doing in here?"
"Nothing." Damn, he knew he answered too quickly.
Shrugging, Madeline was too tired and let it slide, "Okay." Sherlock nodded once and looked away. "…can I pee?" Madeline questioned.
"Oh, right- yes." Quickly Sherlock exited the loo and closed the door behind him. Pausing for a moment he shook his head and cursed himself under his breath as he walked back to his room, Couldn't have been more obvious.
With a light growl, Sherlock closed the door behind him and began pacing the room staring at the bed in front of him. How was he supposed to approach this?
Do I ask? He questioned, do I imply and then see if she responds? …What if she doesn't get the implications? The horror hit Sherlock like a bullet in the chest as he stopped pacing and leaned back against her cabinets as the most horrific thought sunk into Sherlock's esteem.
…What if she doesn't want to have sex with me?
Hearing the toilet flush, Sherlock pushed himself off of the dresser quickly, kicking back against the bottom drawer he hissed holding onto his foot- these shaky thoughts was making Sherlock shaky in general.
"Oh, Christ-" Sherlock breathed as he saw the drawer opened. Bending down to close it his eye caught an object he had never seen in person. He hadn't meant to peek inside… but the alarming shade of purple caught his eye… Is that a…
Quickly Sherlock shut the drawer as he heard Madeline approach the door. When Madeline walked through, her eyes landed on Sherlock curiously- he looked at her far too innocently.
"What are you doing?"
"...Waiting for you."
"…Are you not going back to bed? It's three in the morning."
"I…" Sherlock began looking down and chewing on his lip before he looked up at her steadily, "…Do you want me to?"
Madeline looked back at Sherlock as if he'd grown a second head, "Of course I do."
Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Sherlock nodded and inched his way back under the sheets with his back to Madeline.
I took care in the loo, she clearly takes care of herself with help. Makes us even?
...She didn't even approach me. There's my answer.
She stared at his bare shoulders and stern back in the moonlight, Madeline had no idea what was going on with him. He was acting so strange. Madeline bit her lip and her eyebrows came together as she looked at him worriedly; she could feel the heat of his back tempt her towards him. Even his back turned her on in unspeakable ways. If only he'd make a freaking move. Madeline thought hopelessly.
Scooting forwards Madeline stopped just short of his warm pale skin.
"…Sherlock?" She asked, lifting her fingers she placed them on his shoulder blade- feeling him tense beneath her touch Madeline quickly retracted her hand as he replied with an unhappy grunt. She sighed softly, "…Nevermind."
"Madeline," Sherlock sighed; turning around he faced her. Sherlock didn't know what he was going to say, but as he looked down at her he saw the conflict and confusion in her eyes as well. It was clear to him then that perhaps they would continue to be so lost and opposing- as they were such opposite people.
You two have more in common than you think. John's words entered Sherlock's mind as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her cheek against his chest.
Sherlock buried his face in her hair as her hands clawed at his bare back.
"You are the strangest person I've ever known." Madeline mumbled into his shoulder causing them both to chuckle as he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.
Minutes passed by and he felt Madeline slowly give into sleep, her breath softly blowing against him. Sherlock's hand ran up and down her back, his fingertips tracing her spine lightly.
"You've even stranger from my perspective. Look what you've done to me..." Sherlock mumbled lightly as she mumbled nonsense in her sleep against his skin her feet kicking lightly before capturing his calf between them. He sighed comfortably before falling asleep, doing his best to ignore the ache he felt deep in his stomach.
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