#an early post for tomorrow's Mark Gatiss Wednesday

[elizasfanfictionblog]

to have and to hold

(a mollcroft ficlet)

[x]

[Molly’s bedroom]

Molly let out a long sigh, her whole body weary, struggling to move to her side without disturbing the sleeping form of Mycroft. Her mind was in full active mode even though her body wanted her to sleep. Was it only a week back that Mycroft had asked her out for dinner? Biting her lower lip she thought hard as her eyes took in the tired face of the government official. A tentative hand reached out to touch that forehead where a perpetual frown had been lodged these past few days, now smooth as a baby’s skin. Her finger tips graced the eyebrows in feather like touches, when suddenly aware that those enigmatic eyes were now open and studying her in the darkness of her bedroom she pulled back her hand and gave a weak smile without making eye contact.

“Not sleepy?” was the outward response although she knew he had meant something else, something her racing mind could not catch on to even though she tried hard.

“It was another bomb scare,” he supplied casually, as answer to her muddled thoughts. “The usual,” he shrugged and lay on his back, arms going up above his head and supporting his neck, then turning his head to catch her greedy expression for more.

Laughing softly he pulled her closer while lifting the crumpled sheet to hold her naked body close to his. Molly’s leg went around his hip automatically while her arm circled his shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

Closing her eyes hoping for more she waited as her mind recalled the night that had passed. The silence helped as she realised that Mycroft had fallen back to sleep. Rubbing her cheek on the tickling hairs she opened her eyes and looked up. Why was it that men went to sleep so fast?

Resting her chin on her hand that now lay splayed on his chest she remembered his urgent hold of her on entering the apartment just a couple of hours back.

[flash back]

Molly had got back from the morgue and after a shower was searching the fridge wondering what to make for dinner when she heard the front door open and thought it was Sherlock.

“Want anything to eat?” she had called out while humming to a tune that was stuck in her head, the lyrics evading her as she bent down to rummage the vegetable tray at the bottom, when she yelped at the grab of a hand around her waist but melted into the arms that held her tight her back pressed to the soft woollen coat, her head arching to accommodate the lips of a passionate Mycroft who was barely composed.

Molly automatically raised her arms and as one held his head in place the other joined him as he held onto her waist with a force that expressed his need for an anchor. Together they stood still, enveloped in an emotional storm, Molly receiving the full force of the turmoil and cushioning it with her silent acceptance as the turbulence passed through her trembling body and slowly dissipated.

The tension having receded she felt the slow release of the iron grip and was about to straighten herself when she felt herself being swirled around and kissed passionately . Mind whirling with pent up feelings, both shared each other’s passion and Molly felt herself being raised realising that she was now seated on the kitchen table.

“Not here in the kitchen Mycroft,” she mumbled in a plea that she was positive was lost to the Ice Man who seemed to have an agenda of his own but was surprised.

For, with a gruff, “Then it’s the living room,” he picked her up like a doll and in swift strides deposited her and followed her on the floor.

The next few minutes was a frenzied rush to touch and reveal as hands caressed skin that was exposed while the other removed clothing without any systematic order. As much as Molly enjoyed a quick tumble, she had hoped that their first time would be more romantic and savouring, since Mycroft had always seemed someone in complete control of himself. This dark passionate side of his was an exhilarating surprise and she was dragged into that frenzy, drowning herself in his need allowing her base emotions to overwhelm her completely.

Sated and exhausted within a couple of minutes, sweating and panting, they lay on their discarded clothes that peppered her living room floor, legs still tangled but bodies just apart to catch their breath and cool their heated bodies.

“That was fast,” Molly giggled, her tummy contracting, her breasts jiggling as she tried hard to control the burst of laughter.

“Mocking me, are you?!” Mycroft hoarsely threatened, his voice unsteady as his breathing slowed, yet eyes glinted with humour, something that she had never before seen.

Her head still tilted to look at his dishevelled form, Molly smiled in response and opened her mouth to ask if he was hungry but was silenced by his lips as he had suddenly slid closer and covered her body with hers. Unable not to respond to his demanding attention Molly arched her hips and lifted her legs, then yelped when she found herself being lifted from the floor and now being carried as Mycroft mumbled, “Let’s take this to the bedroom shall we?”

[back to present]

And that was how the night had ended.

And now she was hungry.

“Just order something from that take away place you love so much,” Mycroft spoke into the darkness, her chin moving along with his chest as he sighed deeply and pulled her closer to kiss her temple while rubbing his hand along her cool back.

Wide eyed with wonder she stared at him then reluctantly moved away from the bed in search of her phone.

[an hour later]

“Sherlock was there, meddling with the suspected package.”

That curt sentence revealed the cause for his distress.

Molly sat silently with the take away in her hand, having now lost her appetite.

[elizasmarkgatissblog]

#mollcroft#my writings#mollcroft ficlet#to have and to hold#mycroft/molly#my elixir#an early post for tomorrow's Mark Gatiss Wednesday#the picture above is from my laptop#that's how i always imagine Mark's Mycroft with Molly ...#preoccupied#serious#engrossed#i'm rambling#Mycroft Holmes#my dream invader

to have and to hold

(a mollcroft ficlet)

[x]

[Molly’s bedroom]

Molly let out a long sigh, her whole body weary, struggling to move to her side without disturbing the sleeping form of Mycroft. Her mind was in full active mode even though her body wanted her to sleep. Was it only a week back that Mycroft had asked her out for dinner? Biting her lower lip she thought hard as her eyes took in the tired face of the government official. A tentative hand reached out to touch that forehead where a perpetual frown had been lodged these past few days, now smooth as a baby’s skin. Her finger tips graced the eyebrows in feather like touches, when suddenly aware that those enigmatic eyes were now open and studying her in the darkness of her bedroom she pulled back her hand and gave a weak smile without making eye contact.

“Not sleepy?” was the outward response although she knew he had meant something else, something her racing mind could not catch on to even though she tried hard.

“It was another bomb scare,” he supplied casually, as answer to her muddled thoughts. “The usual,” he shrugged and lay on his back, arms going up above his head and supporting his neck, then turning his head to catch her greedy expression for more.

Laughing softly he pulled her closer while lifting the crumpled sheet to hold her naked body close to his. Molly’s leg went around his hip automatically while her arm circled his shoulder, her head resting on his chest.

Closing her eyes hoping for more she waited as her mind recalled the night that had passed. The silence helped as she realised that Mycroft had fallen back to sleep. Rubbing her cheek on the tickling hairs she opened her eyes and looked up. Why was it that men went to sleep so fast?

Resting her chin on her hand that now lay splayed on his chest she remembered his urgent hold of her on entering the apartment just a couple of hours back.

[flash back]

Molly had got back from the morgue and after a shower was searching the fridge wondering what to make for dinner when she heard the front door open and thought it was Sherlock.

“Want anything to eat?” she had called out while humming to a tune that was stuck in her head, the lyrics evading her as she bent down to rummage the vegetable tray at the bottom, when she yelped at the grab of a hand around her waist but melted into the arms that held her tight her back pressed to the soft woollen coat, her head arching to accommodate the lips of a passionate Mycroft who was barely composed.

Molly automatically raised her arms and as one held his head in place the other joined him as he held onto her waist with a force that expressed his need for an anchor. Together they stood still, enveloped in an emotional storm, Molly receiving the full force of the turmoil and cushioning it with her silent acceptance as the turbulence passed through her trembling body and slowly dissipated.

The tension having receded she felt the slow release of the iron grip and was about to straighten herself when she felt herself being swirled around and kissed passionately . Mind whirling with pent up feelings, both shared each other’s passion and Molly felt herself being raised realising that she was now seated on the kitchen table.

“Not here in the kitchen Mycroft,” she mumbled in a plea that she was positive was lost to the Ice Man who seemed to have an agenda of his own but was surprised.

For, with a gruff, “Then it’s the living room,” he picked her up like a doll and in swift strides deposited her and followed her on the floor.

The next few minutes was a frenzied rush to touch and reveal as hands caressed skin that was exposed while the other removed clothing without any systematic order. As much as Molly enjoyed a quick tumble, she had hoped that their first time would be more romantic and savouring, since Mycroft had always seemed someone in complete control of himself. This dark passionate side of his was an exhilarating surprise and she was dragged into that frenzy, drowning herself in his need allowing her base emotions to overwhelm her completely.

Sated and exhausted within a couple of minutes, sweating and panting, they lay on their discarded clothes that peppered her living room floor, legs still tangled but bodies just apart to catch their breath and cool their heated bodies.

“That was fast,” Molly giggled, her tummy contracting, her breasts jiggling as she tried hard to control the burst of laughter.

“Mocking me, are you?!” Mycroft hoarsely threatened, his voice unsteady as his breathing slowed, yet eyes glinted with humour, something that she had never before seen.

Her head still tilted to look at his dishevelled form, Molly smiled in response and opened her mouth to ask if he was hungry but was silenced by his lips as he had suddenly slid closer and covered her body with hers. Unable not to respond to his demanding attention Molly arched her hips and lifted her legs, then yelped when she found herself being lifted from the floor and now being carried as Mycroft mumbled, “Let’s take this to the bedroom shall we?”

[back to present]

And that was how the night had ended.

And now she was hungry.

“Just order something from that take away place you love so much,” Mycroft spoke into the darkness, her chin moving along with his chest as he sighed deeply and pulled her closer to kiss her temple while rubbing his hand along her cool back.

Wide eyed with wonder she stared at him then reluctantly moved away from the bed in search of her phone.

[an hour later]

“Sherlock was there, meddling with the suspected package.”

That curt sentence revealed the cause for his distress.

Molly sat silently with the take away in her hand, having now lost her appetite.