Quick-Fingered - Sherlock - Anthea/Molly
Title: Quick-Fingered
Pairing: "Anthea"/Molly
Word Count: 642
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for entangled_now for the Five Acts Meme. I'm using this for my central square of my kink bingo card because, damn, the Sherlock fandom needs more lady-love!
Summary: Anthea pays Molly a visit before she takes a trip to Paris.
Molly gasps and clings onto the table-top as Anthea's fingers work over her clit, slick with her own desire. This isn't sanitary - they're having sex in a morgue, for god's sake - but Anthea is a difficult woman to say no to, and her digits are quick and clever after spending so much time texting. Since they'd started dating, Molly had been forced to get used to being stuck in her whirlwind.
Two fingers push deep inside her pussy as Anthea's thumb takes position on her clit instead, rubbing with absolute confidence. Molly grips on tighter and clings to the front of Anthea's jacket. She feels so exposed, even fully dressed, even though all Anthea has done to her is unzip the back of her skirt to give her hand enough room to access what she wants.
"I can't stay for long," Anthea says. She sounds completely unaffected, as if her mind is elsewhere, even as she picks Molly to pieces in her workplace. "I'm off to Paris in an hour. Dreary."
"Paris?" Molly squeaks. She's surprised that she can talk at all.
"Mmm," Anthea confirms, as she swipes her thumb devilishly against Molly's clit: it hard enough to make her see stars. She clings to Anthea as if that is all that is keeping her steady. "I'll ask if I can bring you along next time. Entertainment."
Molly nods in a hurry, not quite sure what she's agreeing to. John Watson says that this is the kind of weirdness that happens when the Holmes brothers invade your life: you end up with a girlfriend who whisks you off to Paris for her own amusement. Molly doesn't think she minds.
"It'll save me from texting you," Anthea muses, and her fingers slide deeper. Molly raises onto her tiptoes and her breath traps in her chest. Her whole body feels as if it is burning, gloriously. "Seems cost-effective, doesn't it?"
"Mm. Yes. Uh-huh."
Right now, Molly thinks that she would agree to taking over the world if Anthea thought it would be a good idea.
She hasn't got good taste in men: Jim kind of proves that, does he? She's hoping her taste in women is a little bit better, even if Anthea proves that she is still drawn to the dangerous side of life. She can't explain it. She wouldn't want to.
Anthea stops talking for long enough to place her other hand against Molly's cheek and smash their mouths together. She's thorough and efficient, hitting all the right spots to make Molly turn weak(er) at the knees. She kisses in a way that show educated experience, as if she has read as much as she has done, and it's overwhelming in a way that always chases all doubts and uncertainties out of Molly's cobwebbed brain.
Fingers move faster, rougher as they kiss, and it isn't long before Molly's body is twitching and she is frantically gasping for air against Anthea's mouth. She floods against her, wetter than before, and Anthea's fingers move slick and easy as she chases her through her orgasm and right into oversensitivity.
Molly reaches down and pulls Anthea's hand away, knowing that otherwise they will never stop: Anthea does enjoy torturing her so sweetly.
Anthea kisses her forehead and uses her clean hand to brush some stray hair away from Molly's face. "I'll get going," she declares, breaking away so that she can reach for some wipes in her handbag to clean herself off. "I'll text you."
Molly nods wordlessly, breathless and helpless. Her face is flushed and she thinks that she must look a state.
The look in Anthea's eyes, however, says that she would very much like to ravish her again.
(They have to wait until she gets back from Paris: as Molly's phone begins to buzz in Anthea's absence, Molly begins to suspect that Anthea may have invented sexting.)
Pairing: "Anthea"/Molly
Word Count: 642
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for entangled_now for the Five Acts Meme. I'm using this for my central square of my kink bingo card because, damn, the Sherlock fandom needs more lady-love!
Summary: Anthea pays Molly a visit before she takes a trip to Paris.
Molly gasps and clings onto the table-top as Anthea's fingers work over her clit, slick with her own desire. This isn't sanitary - they're having sex in a morgue, for god's sake - but Anthea is a difficult woman to say no to, and her digits are quick and clever after spending so much time texting. Since they'd started dating, Molly had been forced to get used to being stuck in her whirlwind.
Two fingers push deep inside her pussy as Anthea's thumb takes position on her clit instead, rubbing with absolute confidence. Molly grips on tighter and clings to the front of Anthea's jacket. She feels so exposed, even fully dressed, even though all Anthea has done to her is unzip the back of her skirt to give her hand enough room to access what she wants.
"I can't stay for long," Anthea says. She sounds completely unaffected, as if her mind is elsewhere, even as she picks Molly to pieces in her workplace. "I'm off to Paris in an hour. Dreary."
"Paris?" Molly squeaks. She's surprised that she can talk at all.
"Mmm," Anthea confirms, as she swipes her thumb devilishly against Molly's clit: it hard enough to make her see stars. She clings to Anthea as if that is all that is keeping her steady. "I'll ask if I can bring you along next time. Entertainment."
Molly nods in a hurry, not quite sure what she's agreeing to. John Watson says that this is the kind of weirdness that happens when the Holmes brothers invade your life: you end up with a girlfriend who whisks you off to Paris for her own amusement. Molly doesn't think she minds.
"It'll save me from texting you," Anthea muses, and her fingers slide deeper. Molly raises onto her tiptoes and her breath traps in her chest. Her whole body feels as if it is burning, gloriously. "Seems cost-effective, doesn't it?"
"Mm. Yes. Uh-huh."
Right now, Molly thinks that she would agree to taking over the world if Anthea thought it would be a good idea.
She hasn't got good taste in men: Jim kind of proves that, does he? She's hoping her taste in women is a little bit better, even if Anthea proves that she is still drawn to the dangerous side of life. She can't explain it. She wouldn't want to.
Anthea stops talking for long enough to place her other hand against Molly's cheek and smash their mouths together. She's thorough and efficient, hitting all the right spots to make Molly turn weak(er) at the knees. She kisses in a way that show educated experience, as if she has read as much as she has done, and it's overwhelming in a way that always chases all doubts and uncertainties out of Molly's cobwebbed brain.
Fingers move faster, rougher as they kiss, and it isn't long before Molly's body is twitching and she is frantically gasping for air against Anthea's mouth. She floods against her, wetter than before, and Anthea's fingers move slick and easy as she chases her through her orgasm and right into oversensitivity.
Molly reaches down and pulls Anthea's hand away, knowing that otherwise they will never stop: Anthea does enjoy torturing her so sweetly.
Anthea kisses her forehead and uses her clean hand to brush some stray hair away from Molly's face. "I'll get going," she declares, breaking away so that she can reach for some wipes in her handbag to clean herself off. "I'll text you."
Molly nods wordlessly, breathless and helpless. Her face is flushed and she thinks that she must look a state.
The look in Anthea's eyes, however, says that she would very much like to ravish her again.
(They have to wait until she gets back from Paris: as Molly's phone begins to buzz in Anthea's absence, Molly begins to suspect that Anthea may have invented sexting.)