She knew it should feel strange, this fake dating Leonard. They were “dating” almost as much as some of the blokes she usually went out with, and he was at her flat almost as much as he was at Baker Street. And it should feel strange, she thought, but it...didn’t. It felt nice. But it wasn’t real, and a part of her felt she needed to pinch herself or bite the inside of her cheek constantly to remind her that Leonard was not, in fact, her boyfriend. He was her fake boyfriend and her occasional shag partner. It was all a front to make Sherlock jealous and, on occasion, get some sexual release without the use of battery operated devices.
So why did it all feel so damn comfortable?
They were on her sofa watching a film on the telly. It was her holding up her end of the bargain, helping him get as familiar with the less important parts of this era, in his opinion, that everyone considered so vital, the popular culture parts. The movie nights were nice. Sometimes he’d fall asleep before her and she’d reluctantly pull away and drape a blanket over him, only to wake up in the morning to find it folded perfectly and draped over the arm. Sometimes she’d be carried to bed and tucked in and she’d go into the kitchen and find it scrupulously clean and the living room looking like they hadn’t been using every pillow to get comfortable while using each other as pillows too. And sometimes they fell asleep next to each other on the sofa and she’d wake up with her head on his chest and his arm around her.
“Okay, this one isn’t so bad,” he said, shifting his position so Molly’s head fell to the curve at his neck, and she wondered if that was deliberate because that meant most of the side of her body was pressed against his. It also meant he could easily put his arm around her shoulders in a move he had to think was oh so slick. Which, really, wasn’t but damn if it didn’t get her closer. She retaliated by moving her hand from his chest to his waist, brushing it a bit. He let out a bark of a laugh and she lifted up her head, grinning.
“HA! I found a weak-spot on you, didn’t I?” she asked, hooking her fingers a little more and ruthlessly dug into his side, tickling him. He pulled his arms away from her to try and fend her off, wrestling with her a bit as he kept barking out bits of laughter. She had to admit, she hadn’t heard him laugh like this, and it was quite a nice sound. Soon, though, his hands were going after any and all spots on her body that might be overly sensitive, and soon her laughter was joining his until the two of them rolled off the sofa, landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud and Leonard hovering over her.
He was breathing a little hard, but after a moment he used one hand to pin her arms up over her head. “See what happens when you start a tickle fight on the sofa, darling?” he asked, though he was grinning.
“I imagine it’s a good thing I have carpeting,” she said, grinning as well “Otherwise one of us could have had a nasty head injury.”
“I don’t know,” he said, leaning in. “I could have kissed it and made it better.”
The joking atmosphere turned slightly into something more heated, and she was aware of how close they were, of the position they were in, of the fact he was in complete control. She licked her lips for a moment and then said. “I think I might have banged my head a bit, Doctor McCoy.”
“Then maybe I should try that remedy,” he replied, leaning in enough to close the gap to press his lips to hers. She moaned into the kiss and pushed against his hand holding her wrists down and he let go, and the first thing she did was reach for the waistband of his trousers. It had been like this more often than not when they were together, in that she didn’t care much for teasing or anything. She was surprised at what simply a few kisses or a bit of teasing could do. It had never really been like this with other men she had been with, but it had been this way in fantasies.
She had been quite happy to find he seldom wore pants, and once she got the button undone and the fly unzipped she caressed his shaft in her hands. He pulled away from the kiss, pressing softer kisses to her jawline and by her ear, and she could hear a soft groan in the back of his throat. “You do enjoy that, don’t you?” she asked.
“You have very talented hands,” he said, and she could tell he was trying to keep control. It was hard for him, too, it seemed. Teasing was not something they could do for long. Perhaps one day, maybe, when there wasn’t such a need between them.
“I have other talented parts too,” she said, and she watched him lift his head up and she gave him a slightly wicked smile before running her tongue against her bottom lip. He shook his head before reaching for the hem of her shirt. She knew she’d have to let him go so he could get his shoes off and his socks and take his trousers off completely, and so he could get her undressed, and so she removed her hands from his shaft and sat up, lifting her hands up so he could remove her jumper, and then he began to work on the buttons of her shirt. Before he had trembled slightly; now it was more fluid, practiced, but there was a sense that if he didn’t know she liked her clothing in one piece he’d say fuck-all and pull it open, buttons be damned.
Once he had it open she could see his eyes gleam when he saw that she wasn’t wearing the plain cotton bras she had worn before but something pretty and lacy, this time in a nice navy blue. She knew her knickers matched and she was about to tell him to hurry up and see for himself when he sat up and pulled her on his lap, bending his head to place his mouth over her breast. She gasped and moved her hands to his hair, grasping it tightly. Oh, this felt so good, she didn’t even care that this was still considered foreplay. After a moment she moved her hand back to his shaft, moving her hand up and down as she squeezed, feeling her knickers get sodden wet.
After a moment he bulled away, a heat in his eyes as he looked down at her, seeing her breathing hard. “Enough,” he said, moving her hand away before easing her off her lap. At least tonight there was going to be mutual satisfaction, which she was all for. He got her bra off quickly in a rather practiced move, then kissed her again before using his body to gently push her back to the ground. Still kissing her, he undid the button of her trousers and lowered the zipper, and she lifted her hips so he could take them off. He left her knickers on, and she was confused until he pulled away from the kiss, pressing a line of kisses down her chest to where the top of her knickers were.
“You’re not going to tease me?” she asked, half annoyed, half pleading.
“A bit,” he said, giving her a bit of a cocky grin. He reached up and hooked his fingers into her knickers and then slowly pulled them down her legs after she lifted her hips up. Then he settled himself between her legs and slowly began to tease her with his tongue. Her eyes widened before a moan left her mouth. He had never done that before, in all the times they’d shagged. Point of fact, none of the blokes she’d shagged had. She felt something coil inside her, similar to when she used her vibrator, and she was about to plead for him to do something, anything, to give her a release when he pulled away.
“You are an arse of the highest degree!” she gasped, writhing on the floor before looking up and seeing him step out of his trousers. No matter how often she saw him starkers, she had to admit, it was one of the loveliest sights she’d ever seen. She sometimes wondered, in the back of her mind, if it was even worth pursuing Sherlock anymore when there was such a perfect specimen of manhood who did such wonderful things in bed and made her feel like more of a woman than any other bloke had--
--and then coherent thought left her mind when he entered her and she gasped. She loved the way he filled her just right, the way he felt so damn perfect, and instinctively she pulled her legs up and her knees back, and when he used his hands to push them back more to hit just the right spot she yelled his name as clear as a bell when she came. And yet he kept stroking into her, and she could feel that familiar pressure building again and oh Lord, she knew tomorrow she might have trouble walking. “Yes...oh, please...Leonard, please,” she said, nearly panting. The aftereffects of the first orgasm had left her shaking and this was going to wipe her out, but she had to. She wanted to have one with him.
And then it hit and she could feel him stiffen and knew that this time, it had been a shared experience. Oh, it was glorious, better than all the other times before. There was nothing this man wouldn’t do to surprise her, was there? Sneaky bastard.
That’s why she--
After a moment he started to collapse on her, and she shook the oncoming thought out of her head, wanting to bask in the afterglow, wanting to enjoy being with him and not thinking about them and just enjoy the moment. Tomorrow she could worry about them and what a them could mean and what a mess it would be if feelings got involved.
Tonight, she thought as he curled on his side and pulled her against him before reaching up for the throw on her sofa, tonight would be a moment. An almost perfect moment. Maybe never to be repeated, but always to be remembered and cherished.