on the amusement of perfection
Title: On The Amusement of Perfection
Rating: YTeen
A/N: I am still going down with the Sherlolly ship but I quite like the Lestrolly boat sometimes.
She giggles, a half snort, half splutter. He thinks it's adorable, although why she's laughing when his hand is inching up her thigh he doesn't know.
"Stop it." He tries to sound cross.
"I can't!" she exclaims, smothering another snuffle. "Sorry."
"Are you ticklish?"
"No! At least I don't think so? No one's ever touched me like this before."
"Like what?" He feels confused but it doesn't stop his fingers from tracing patterns over her tights.
"Like you are. Your hand there."
"But you're not a virgin."
The grin on her face dissolves as a blush sweeps her cheeks. "No, I'm not. You know that."
"Then?" His hand meanders higher as he waits patiently for her answer.
She wrinkles her nose in thought. And then, amidst another uneven snort, chokes out an answer "I don't know. It feels different."
"How?" He stills his hand and leans in to brush his mouth over her neck. She tips her head back and he can feel the tremble of laughter in her throat.
"You're killing me here," he whispers against her soft skin.
"Sorry!" she gasps. "Sorry. It's just, well it's you. Touching me. There. You."
"Yes, it's me."
"And me."
"Yes. Greg and Molly."
"Right." A tiny smiles twitches at her lips and he leans in to kiss it, twisting his body to cover hers more fully. Her legs shift in response to his weight, allowing him to settle between the thighs he’s spent the last few minutes caressing.
He props his elbows on either side of her shoulders and tangles his fingers in the loose ends of her hair spread over the couch cushions. "So we're Greg and Molly, and that's funny to you."
She wrinkles her nose again and stares at him for a long silent moment. "No. It's different. You're different. You touching me is different than anyone else who's... well, you know."
"And that's funny?"
"No," she shakes her head slowly, and then smiles. "No, it's not funny. It's this... thing." She frowns lightly. "The thing we have. You know. Us."
"Us."
"You and I. Together. It's... you know." She takes a deep breath. "I mean, I think it's really good."
"Well, I wouldn't say really good," he teases, "but-"
"Hush," she commands, her hands pulling his head down so she can kiss him. She tastes of everything he needs. She tastes of Molly, perfect and warm and soft.
She breaks the kiss with a pleased sigh and stares up at him, eyes dark and brown. He loves those eyes. He loves her. And now he's going to say it aloud. For the first time. Ever. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth and then... chickens out.
"Greg."
"Molly."
"Say it," she urges, but her voice is quiet and gentle. "Say it now."
"I'm too old for you," he sighs. "This is madness."
"We've had this conversation before. You're not. You're perfect."
"I'm-"
"I chose you," she says firmly. "I want you. I need-"
"I love you."
Her face fills with a bright grin, almost dazzling him. "Do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well." She continues to smile, her eyes now twinkling with delight, and possibly torturous teasing.
"Well?" He can't keep the questioning tone from his voice.
"Wellllllll," she drags out and then the smile vanishes from her face. "Thank you?"
He laughs. "You're driving me mental, woman."
"Am I?"
"Yes, and you're doing it on purpose!"
She presses her lips together to stop another smile, and he bends his head to kiss her so thoroughly and so firmly that he can barely hold himself aloft and his arms give way to send him crashing down upon her.
"Oof," she groans amidst laughter. "Maybe you are too old for me!"
"Told you," he insists, and then in a serious voice asks, "Are you okay?"
"Fine. I like this so much better." Their noses are almost touching, bodies pressed top to toe. "Although I might need some more air in a minute."
"Sorry." He rolls to the side, and she wiggles to make room for him to lie beside her on the sofa.
"Comfy?" she asks as her knee curls over his hip, pulling him firm against her again.
He nods. "You?"
"I feel very, very good."
"Me too." His throat feels like it's strangling him as she wiggles a little more and his body responds in the style of a much younger, much fitter man.
"Greg?"
"Molly."
"You're perfect," she whispers. "You're what I want."
He kisses the tip of her nose. "Yes, I know, you told me that. What you didn't say was-"
"I love you."
He lets out a whoosh of air and closes his eyes. "Maddening woman."
"I know."
He runs a hand over her hip and up her waist, pausing before it goes too high. "As your punishment I'm going to touch you in a lot more places than your thigh and you cannot laugh or I'll stop."
"I'll try not to."
"Good."
She bites her lip as his fingers brush the side of her breast. "Oh!"
"Molly."
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
Her laughter dissolves into contented sighs of pleasure as the moonlight streaming through the windowpanes dissolves into early morning rays of sunlight.
Rating: YTeen
A/N: I am still going down with the Sherlolly ship but I quite like the Lestrolly boat sometimes.
She giggles, a half snort, half splutter. He thinks it's adorable, although why she's laughing when his hand is inching up her thigh he doesn't know.
"Stop it." He tries to sound cross.
"I can't!" she exclaims, smothering another snuffle. "Sorry."
"Are you ticklish?"
"No! At least I don't think so? No one's ever touched me like this before."
"Like what?" He feels confused but it doesn't stop his fingers from tracing patterns over her tights.
"Like you are. Your hand there."
"But you're not a virgin."
The grin on her face dissolves as a blush sweeps her cheeks. "No, I'm not. You know that."
"Then?" His hand meanders higher as he waits patiently for her answer.
She wrinkles her nose in thought. And then, amidst another uneven snort, chokes out an answer "I don't know. It feels different."
"How?" He stills his hand and leans in to brush his mouth over her neck. She tips her head back and he can feel the tremble of laughter in her throat.
"You're killing me here," he whispers against her soft skin.
"Sorry!" she gasps. "Sorry. It's just, well it's you. Touching me. There. You."
"Yes, it's me."
"And me."
"Yes. Greg and Molly."
"Right." A tiny smiles twitches at her lips and he leans in to kiss it, twisting his body to cover hers more fully. Her legs shift in response to his weight, allowing him to settle between the thighs he’s spent the last few minutes caressing.
He props his elbows on either side of her shoulders and tangles his fingers in the loose ends of her hair spread over the couch cushions. "So we're Greg and Molly, and that's funny to you."
She wrinkles her nose again and stares at him for a long silent moment. "No. It's different. You're different. You touching me is different than anyone else who's... well, you know."
"And that's funny?"
"No," she shakes her head slowly, and then smiles. "No, it's not funny. It's this... thing." She frowns lightly. "The thing we have. You know. Us."
"Us."
"You and I. Together. It's... you know." She takes a deep breath. "I mean, I think it's really good."
"Well, I wouldn't say really good," he teases, "but-"
"Hush," she commands, her hands pulling his head down so she can kiss him. She tastes of everything he needs. She tastes of Molly, perfect and warm and soft.
She breaks the kiss with a pleased sigh and stares up at him, eyes dark and brown. He loves those eyes. He loves her. And now he's going to say it aloud. For the first time. Ever. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth and then... chickens out.
"Greg."
"Molly."
"Say it," she urges, but her voice is quiet and gentle. "Say it now."
"I'm too old for you," he sighs. "This is madness."
"We've had this conversation before. You're not. You're perfect."
"I'm-"
"I chose you," she says firmly. "I want you. I need-"
"I love you."
Her face fills with a bright grin, almost dazzling him. "Do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well." She continues to smile, her eyes now twinkling with delight, and possibly torturous teasing.
"Well?" He can't keep the questioning tone from his voice.
"Wellllllll," she drags out and then the smile vanishes from her face. "Thank you?"
He laughs. "You're driving me mental, woman."
"Am I?"
"Yes, and you're doing it on purpose!"
She presses her lips together to stop another smile, and he bends his head to kiss her so thoroughly and so firmly that he can barely hold himself aloft and his arms give way to send him crashing down upon her.
"Oof," she groans amidst laughter. "Maybe you are too old for me!"
"Told you," he insists, and then in a serious voice asks, "Are you okay?"
"Fine. I like this so much better." Their noses are almost touching, bodies pressed top to toe. "Although I might need some more air in a minute."
"Sorry." He rolls to the side, and she wiggles to make room for him to lie beside her on the sofa.
"Comfy?" she asks as her knee curls over his hip, pulling him firm against her again.
He nods. "You?"
"I feel very, very good."
"Me too." His throat feels like it's strangling him as she wiggles a little more and his body responds in the style of a much younger, much fitter man.
"Greg?"
"Molly."
"You're perfect," she whispers. "You're what I want."
He kisses the tip of her nose. "Yes, I know, you told me that. What you didn't say was-"
"I love you."
He lets out a whoosh of air and closes his eyes. "Maddening woman."
"I know."
He runs a hand over her hip and up her waist, pausing before it goes too high. "As your punishment I'm going to touch you in a lot more places than your thigh and you cannot laugh or I'll stop."
"I'll try not to."
"Good."
She bites her lip as his fingers brush the side of her breast. "Oh!"
"Molly."
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
Her laughter dissolves into contented sighs of pleasure as the moonlight streaming through the windowpanes dissolves into early morning rays of sunlight.