REEEEEEEMMMMIIIIIXXXX! (aka Game Show Love Connection mix)
For this prompt on
shkinkmeme:
Molly discovers, through use of a word, that Sherlock used to be a sub. At first she doesn't know what that means, but then she starts to take advantage of it.
Bonus points if she does it while he's in the lab acting like an ass to her.
IT IS DONE. And I owe certain people many thanks for giving me ideas along the way.
taleyalet me lift one of her lines,
dracutgrl inspired the whole mess as well as some of the ideas for the flow of everything. There's a certain unnamed person who really helped with the ending to this and for that, I owe her cookies. She made it end on a lovely beat instead of a whoopie cushion fart.
She knows who she is.
Also:
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING EVERYONE. I'm just happy to put out something that was better than what I originally did. And if you figure out what songs I'm referencing in the remix names, I will buy you Internet cocktails.
And now! Disclaimers:
SO NOT MINE. I pray that Gatiss and Moffatt do not release the lawyers of war upon my ass. I am not part of the BDSM scene, but I got knowledge from the Internet and friends. Everything is unbeta'd, but it was edited by me. If you find errors, please let me know.
Definitely not safe for work. Not safe for children. Really, not safe period. If your computer starts on fire, it's not my fault.
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Chapter 1 Comments are love and I am a hooooor.
Strangely enough, being in a relationship -- Molly finally felt safe enough to use that word -- was no different than what they had previously. Sherlock still had problems with boundaries, terrorized the lab regularly and on occasion snapped at Molly with a cutting remark.
“Is he like this with you?” she asked John one day after Sherlock flounced into the lab, lectured Lestrade on a particularly gristly death and bumped Molly over so he could run tests on her lab equipment. In her head, Molly was already planning revenge.
“You mean an idiot with impulse control problems?“ John asked, a grin threatening to break out of his face. “Yeah. But he’s not just my problem now -- he’s yours too.”
When there was a compelling case, he still refused to eat or sleep and had the habit of disappearing for days at a time. She still fretted and harangued him to contact her and to take care of himself. At least now, she felt safer in voicing her opinions about his well-being.
“This is who I am,” he said after she told him her fears. “You know this.”
“But you can change your mind and your habits,” she replied. “You’ve done it before. I‘m not asking you to stay at home and sip tea all day, because really, you‘d probably spike it to see what kind of physiological reaction you could get. I‘m asking for a text message -- ‘Am fine. Bad guys captured.’”
He may have grumbled but the next time he vanished with John for a week in Kiev, she got a text.
Am fine. Bad guys captured. What are you wearing? -- SH
It was a start, she admitted to herself.
I’m at work. What do you think? When will you be back?
Tomorrow. And I suspect it’s something lacy. Can you sent me a photo? I have a bet with John.
I am not taking a photo for you to show John. You‘ll have to deduce it from my texts, genius. She took some glee in typing that. But when I see you, I’ll make sure not to have knickers on.
There was a pause and she grinned. One perk of after his return from a case was the adrenaline that needed to be reduced to an acceptable level, which required a bit of work on her part.
Those moments he was more playful, flirtatious and a bit cheeky. It really was like dating a teenage boy, Molly thought. Coming off a case, he didn’t have the mental discipline to do strict scenes and Molly was too relieved to have him back safe to enforce the rules so most of scenes were loosely structured.
Promise?
You‘ll have to see to find out.
~*~
There will be a car coming for you today after work. -- SH
Molly stared at her mobile. Pardon?
No arguments Scheherazade. There will be a car waiting for you after your shift at the corner. Your driver will handle the rest.
Molly snorted. That obstinate lunatic, she thought. Where did he get a car? For a moment, she feared that Sherlock was going to show up in an unmarked white van. If it was anyone else, she’d tell them she was trapped at work and unable to meet at the appointed time.
But this wasn’t anyone. This was Sherlock. And he used his pet name for her. There was no choice.
So the sultan asks, so shall it be done. Molly texted. Whatever he had planned, she was thankful that she didn’t have knickers on, as promised. And she was wearing a simple grey shirtdress with boots for work.
She was covering for a colleague on the second shift, so by the time she got done with work, it was night. Instead of businessmen and bankers, the streets were filled with people heading out for a night of fun. True to his word, there was a car at the corner. Thankfully it wasn’t a white van, but a sleek and menacing looking black Jaguar sitting at the corner.
Standing next to the car, the vision of perfect servitude was Sherlock, dressed in a black suit and wearing a chauffer’s cap.
The urge to smile was overwhelming, but Molly schooled her features carefully. “I take it this is my ride?” she asked, approaching him.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he opened the car door for her.
She slid into the backseat and he shut the door. It was definitely a luxurious car, Molly thought, scanning around. Leather seats, heated, enough room for a family of four to live in comfortably, a drink console and video cameras discreetly hidden in the rear-view mirror and dashboard.
“Where did you get this car?” she asked, suspicion tingeing her voice as he pulled away from the curb.
“Borrowed it from a relative,” he said. “We’ll need to get it back within an hour.”
“Did you know there’s video cameras in this?” she asked. “If you’re talking about making a movie of us, I’m not doing it if others can see it.”
“Sharp eyes and yes about the cameras,” he replied. “Don’t worry though. I’ve circumvented the system. Right now the feed is going into my laptop.”
Molly poked her head between the seats and saw the laptop sitting there with two images -- one of a blank car and the live feed of them in the car. She settled back in her seat. Just that brief moment close to him, where she could smell his spicy cologne and feel his body heat, took most of her willpower not to grab him by the tie and drag him into the backseat with her.
“Mind you,” he said idly, his eyes concentrating on the road. “My brother probably already knows I have the car by now, but at least he won’t see what we’re doing in it.”
“Wait --” Molly blinked. “You have a brother? What’s his name? And this is his car? What does he do?”
Sherlock chuckled. “You’ll probably meet him soon enough. He has a flair for dramatic introductions. It’s Mycroft. This is his car for work and he‘s just an auditor for the British government.” The way he said his brother’s job title told Molly that it wasn’t quite the truth and not to poke at it any further.
“What’s he like?”
“My worst enemy.”
Molly snorted. “So a family member then,” she leaned back in the seat and peeked at the drinks console. Water and nothing else. “I take it your idea of family fun is to glare at each other during a competition of, ‘I’m Not Hungry.’”
The car glided into Hyde Park and down a path as Sherlock chuckled. “That does sum up a lot of our interactions.”
The impish part of Molly’s brain lit up like a Christmas tree. “I take it we’re using this car --” she began.
He didn’t answer, but she felt the atmosphere become more charged. “What do you plan to do with the video feed?” she asked.
“It’s not being saved to the laptop,” he said, glancing back at her. “I was tempted, but didn’t know how you felt about it, so I decided against it.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We can discuss that later. Right now --” she spread her legs slightly so he could see up her skirt and notice that she wasn‘t wearing panties, as promised. “I’m in the mood for other things than a lengthy negotiation.” Molly then crossed her legs primly.
She could see his eyebrows shoot up in the rear view mirror as the car glided down a dark service path. Sherlock parked the car and turned the lights off. The only sound was the soft pings of the engine cooling down. The air definitely warmed and she licked her lips in anticipation.
Before she knew it, he was moving with a feline grace into the backseat of the car. Her hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him towards her as their mouths collided.
It wasn’t refined, practiced or seductive. This was the kiss of two people who missed each other intensely. Molly suspected she nipped his upper lip and she felt his teeth knock against hers as her mouth opened, but it was heavenly. She couldn’t help but moan as she pulled him closer and he groaned her name.
His hands were already sliding up her skirt as she pulled him on top of her. She was fumbling for his flies, her hands stroking his erection.
“God I missed you,” Molly panted as his fingers skimmed her ass. “How was Kiev?”
“Easy,” he said, sliding into the seat and pulling her to straddle him. “Mycroft’s mission, but child’s play,” he unbuttoned the top of her dress and grinned at the black lacy bra underneath. He nipped at her neck. “It was a Zanzibar market.”
“A what?” she asked as she unwrapped a condom and slid it on him. It was especially difficult since he was tonguing her nipple through the lace and the warm wetness from his mouth was causing her to lose focus on the conversation.
“Black market -- one night auction for especially valuable stolen goods,” he said, sliding his tongue along the lace and moving his attention to her other breast. “Mycroft wanted --”
He didn’t finish his final words as she slid down the length of him, hot and slick. Molly let out a sigh of bliss, settling on him and stilling for a moment. It was delicious and badly needed.
“Oh God,” he groaned, tipping his head back and resting it on the headrest as his hands gripped her hips. “I missed this.”
“Me too,” Molly moaned, hands twining in his hair as she pulled him closer.
All talking stopped as he thrust into her and she began to match him stroke for stroke. Her nails dug into his back as he thrust deeper into her and ran his tongue around her lace-clad nipples. One hand relinquished grip of her hips and slid forward, rubbing her clit.
That was all it took. Her arousal -- which was simmering since she got his text the night before -- ignited as her hips slammed into him and she cried out his name. He pulled his mouth away from her breast and she kissed him, whimpering in his mouth as she sucked on his tongue.
She could feel him shudder under her, groaning as his hips bucked wildly under her. Molly clung to him, savouring the way he was coming undone with her, knowing that she was the only person to see this.
Their kisses slowed and became lazier as she pulled away and rested her forehead against his.
“I love you,” she said, punctuating each word with a small kiss.
He hummed happily, wrapping his arms around her. Since that first time he told her he loved her, he never said it again. Not that Molly objected, nor did it stop her from telling him. Especially when what she got in return was a quick smile or a blush that went up to his ears. He didn’t need to say it -- his body told her everything.
She stared into his eyes, the same blue (or were they green? Or grey? She never was sure) eyes that could flash a myriad of emotions in milliseconds as they darted around a room collecting information. They were content as he studied her face. His mouth, which could cut people down with an insult or a well-time deduction had a lazy sated smile painted across it.
His eyes narrowed as he studied her.
“What?” she asked, recognizing the expression.
“The sign of a happy relationship is that typically someone will put on weight,” his hands caressed her thighs before moving up around her hips and waist and cupping her breasts. “I see you’re living up to the statistics.”
Molly rolled her eyes and snorted. Rather, she would have except his fingers were starting to do wonderful things to her body, shutting down her ability to answer with a cutting retort. Fortunately her brain allowed her mouth to whisper a “Welcome home,” before silencing him the best way she knew how.
FIN