Mizjoely's first ever threesome, go easy on me! NSFW. SOOOOOO NSFW. Really, truly NSFW. Threesome, F/M/M, Khanlockolly, PWP, and did I mention NSFW?

For allthebellsinvenice, who got this crazy spin-off of Khanolly fandom going!

She hadn't wanted to come, but Meena had talked her into it. After the insane week they'd had at work, they both needed to unwind, to dance and drink and fall into the weekend like lead balloons at the end of the night. That was their pact; together to the end, unless they met a nice looking bloke or two, and then all bets were off.

Which was how Molly found herself on the dance floor at a retro club playing late 21st century dance music, gyrating wildly between two men straight out of her wildest, raunchiest fantasies. Meena had left around midnight with an Andorian chan, and Molly had been about to head home when a familiar figure walked into the club, heading straight for her table.

She'd only been working alongside Commander John Harrison for a month, but she'd already developed an insane crush on the handsome but standoffish researcher. Like her, he was employed by Starfleet's clandestine Section 31; unlike her, he was arrogant, high-handed, and utterly brilliant. Not that she had a low opinion of her xenopathology skills, but next to him she felt like a backwards four-year-old.

Hah. 'Next to him'. Good one, Molls, she thought deliriously as he slid his torso up against hers, then ground their pelvises together so she could feel every inch of his hard cock inside the leather trousers he was wearing tonight, along with a tight white tank top. The man behind her, not to be outdone, grabbed her hips and pressed himself against her just as tightly; sandwiched between the two of them, Molly felt more liberated than she ever had, even in other threesomes.

But oh, what a threesome this was going to be! She craned her head over her shoulder, meeting the blue-green gaze of her second dance partner, marveling again at how closely he and John resembled one another – and yet both men claimed no blood kinship. She'd learned that much when John had first pulled her onto the dance floor and turned Molly so she could see the man who'd introduced himself as Sherlock Holmes.

There were very few visible differences between the two men; they were of a height, with the same heterochromatic blue-green eyes with amber speckles and the same sharp cheekbones and lush, Cupid's bow lips. Where John's hair was straight and sleeked back, nearly black, Sherlock's was a riot of dark brown curls falling over his brow, sweat dampened from his exertions. He was wearing dark black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the top three buttons undone revealing a vee of smooth pale chest that appeared somewhat less muscled than John's but just as intriguing as far as Molly was concerned.

She still wasn't sure how the two of them had met, Sherlock and John, but right now she didn't care. They were both lovely in their own ways; so alike and so different at the same time. Even dancing John seemed to hold some part of himself in reserve, where Sherlock simply appeared to be enjoying every second. Where they remained alike, however, was in the way they eyed both her and one another with equal hunger; under other circumstances Molly might have felt like a third wheel, but both men made it quite clear that they were just as interested in her as they were in one another, which gave her a delicious shiver every time she thought about it.

As if reading her thoughts, Sherlock grinned and bent his head, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. Not to be outdone, as soon as he released her John demanded her attention, practically devouring her as he worked his hand under the loose fabric of her colorful top, pressing his hands against her heated flesh and working a moan from her throat. She reached back blindly and wrapped her hand around Sherlock's neck as he pressed a series of hot kisses to her throat and the bare skin of her shoulder. When had that happened? Oh, right, he'd unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse when they first started dancing, or had John done that?

Whatever. She was having the best time of her life right now and although she loved the dancing, what she really wanted to do was take these two beautiful men back to her flat and see what they looked like naked. And fuck them both, and watch them fuck one another, then fuck them herself again, because it had been a long dry streak and she got the impression they both had the stamina for the bacchanalia she was envisioning.

As soon as the music morphed into something slow and sensuous, Molly saw the two men exchange looks over her shoulder, and bit her lip in anticipation. Sure enough, Sherlock grabbed one hand, John the other, and they dragged her off the dance floor with equally determined expressions on their faces.

As soon as Molly grabbed her purse and cardigan, the three of them left the club. The cool night air felt wonderful on her overheated skin, but she wasn't allowed to enjoy it for long. John grabbed a communicator out from his belt and muttered into it while Sherlock pulled Molly into an embrace, pressing her up against the brick wall and kissing her breathless, his tongue gliding along her lower lip until she opened beneath him, moaning as he took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently. She twisted her hands in his curls, barely noticing when the three of them were swept up in a transporter beam.

She didn't recognize the room they materialized in, but John identified it as his flat before impatiently lifting his sweat-drenched tank top over his head and tossing it to the floor. Then his hands were all over her, undoing her buttons while Sherlock attacked the ones on his own shirt. Soon the floor was littered with their shoes and clothing, and not long after that they were in John's bedroom, with its lavish, king-sized bed, the lights just bright enough for them to see one another as they fell onto the microplush comforter and into one another's arms.

Molly gasped as Sherlock impatiently pushed her legs open, dropping down to bury his face in her cunt, already embarrassingly wet, while John went to work on her breasts, kneading and caressing them before sucking eagerly at her nipples. While the two men worked her into a sopping, writhing mess with their mouths, she couldn't help but see that Sherlock's hand had snaked its way between John's thighs and was currently wrapped around the other man's thick, hard cock, pumping it furiously, slicked by precum and eventually Molly's own juices. She gasped as Sherlock thrust two fingers deep inside her, curling them as he sought her g-spot while his tongue continued to lap at her folds and tease her clit. He pulled the fingers out only when she went taut and cried out her completion.

She went limp as John's mouth went from sucking and nipping to soft, gentle kisses to her breasts, and Sherlock pulled himself away from her pussy. With a feral glint in his eyes, he pushed the other man over so he lay next to Molly, kneeling over him with his hand still on John's cock, slicking Molly's juices over the hard length and capturing the other man's mouth for a searing kiss.

Molly was still floating on her orgasmic high, but the sight of those two lush mouths coming together sent a further rush of arousal through her body, and she couldn't help a greedy gasp as she turned on her side in order to get a better look. John's hands were all over Sherlock's wiry form – tangled in his curly hair one minute, then sliding down that firm, flat abdomen to tease his cock, which twitched at the other man's touch. Molly bit her lip hard to keep from letting out the loud groans that were fighting their way up her throat; as soon as John realized her dilemma, he pulled away from Sherlock with a smirk, turning his head in order to capture Molly's lips with his own.

Sherlock took advantage of that moment of distraction to slide his body down, coming to rest with his head poised above John's cock; with a grunt of pleasure he plunged his head down and took the full length of that cock deep within his mouth and throat, sucking hard while John shouted and bucked in surprise.

Molly watched the flush of pleasure covering that pale, sculpted form, so muscular compared to Sherlock's lean hardness, but just as beautiful in her eyes. She dove down for another kiss, her hand straying down John's body, gliding across his nipples and stomach until she reached Sherlock's rapidly bobbing head and tangled her fingers in those glorious curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. Without breaking his rhythm he reached over and stroked her slit, dipping only the tips of two fingers inside her until she was desperate for more.

Once again it seemed almost as if the two men were reading her mind; Sherlock sat back, releasing his mouth from John's dick with a loud popping sound, and at the same time John tugged her up so that she was straddling his form, easing her down onto his wet cock. He was large, larger than anyone she'd ever fucked before, but she was so wet and ready, and Sherlock had slicked his shaft so beautifully, that he slid right into her. Molly groaned and immediately began moving, eager to find her pleasure again as she leaned down and kissed John. She felt Sherlock kneeling behind her and wondered what he was planning to do, then gasped when she felt his mouth on her arse, first one cheek, then the other, somehow not disrupting the rhythm of her hips as she rode John.

When she felt his tongue slipping into her arse, however, she faltered and nearly collapsed at the overload of sensations, but John's hands on her hips and his own deep, penetrating thrusts kept her going. Slowly but surely she felt it building, the approach to her second orgasm, and began chanting the two men's names, begging for them to help bring her over the edge, and wasn't the least bit surprised when they didn't disappoint.

As soon as she finished coming she rolled off of John's body, ignoring his protests and instead tugging at Sherlock, who once again enthusiastically took the other man's cock into his mouth. He inhaled deeply as he did so, his eyes meeting Molly's with an expression of unmistakable avariciousness; without words, he was telling her how much he was enjoying the taste of her and John mingled together. After she'd recovered enough to move, she reached down between his legs and gave him the same treatment he'd given John earlier, rolling that lovely thickness between her fingers, grasping it firmly and stroking with a rhythm she tried to match to the movements of his mouth as he sucked John off.

Molly watched as, a few minutes later, all of Sherlock's hard work paid off; with a muffled series of curses, John tugged Sherlock's head off his cock and came in great spurts, spattering his own belly. Molly wondered why he hadn't simply let the other man swallow, as he so clearly was willing to do, but that question was answered when he pulled Sherlock down on top of him, rubbing his cum over the other man's cock and encouraging him to thrust against the slick flesh of his abdomen. They kissed with abandon while Molly watched, breathing hard and then holding her breath as Sherlock's cum joined John's in coating their chests and abdomens in a sticky, obscene mess that was tantalizing all of Molly's aroused senses: sight, scent, touch…she gave into her desire for more, smearing her fingers with the mingled ejaculate and sucking greedily at the viscous fluid.

The two men watched through sated, half-lidded eyes as she did so, and she felt a familiar tingle starting up yet again at the sensation of their eyes taking in her actions. So she did it again as Sherlock rolled onto his side next to John, who was tracing idle designs along the other man's arm and shoulder as they watched Molly reach down and glide her fingers through the sticky residue yet again, this time taking the time to not only taste but to suck her fingers in as suggestive a manner as she could.

John was the first to recover, his cock hardening as he reached for Molly and pulled her underneath him. He thrust into her as quickly as he had the last time, and she moaned her enjoyment as she wrapped her legs around his waist. This time Sherlock alternated between kissing her and kissing John until it was clear they were both close; then he reached between them and tweaked Molly's nipples into aching little peaks until she cried out and arched her head, racing toward orgasm number three. Sherlock then ran his hand down John's back and slid his fingers against his arse, doing something Molly couldn't see but must have involved touching some very sensitive areas, since John came with a roar, filling her belly with his seed and clamping his mouth onto her throat over her wildly beating pulse, sucking a mark there that was bound to be purple and tender for days if she didn't treat it.

John knelt up, pulling out of her, then tugged at Sherlock, who was showing signs of his own recovery at this point. A few quick pulls from John's large hands and the other man's dick was as thick and swollen as it had been before; Molly ducked her head down and took it into her mouth, cupping his bollocks while John nipped at her neck and cupped her breasts. Then Sherlock was on top of her, pressing her back into the mattress and guiding himself into her body, thrusting and heaving as she bent her knees to give herself better purchase and him a deeper angle. He groaned thankfully and knelt up, hauling her bum up so it rested on his thighs, then glanced over at John. The silent communication between the two men was astonishing, something for Molly to mull over later – and to be entirely thankful for now, as John leaned over the joined bodies and flicked his tongue over both Sherlock's cock as it pulsed in and out of her, and Molly's clit.

She should have been sore and sensitive by now, but by some miracle all she felt was the growing haze that meant she was close to yet another orgasm. She wondered briefly if Meena had spiked her drink again with one of those performance enhancing drugs she was so fond of using, then dismissed the idea as irrelevant; if she had, then Molly would be sure to thank her and if a tox screen turned up nothing, well, that was just fine, too, since it meant she could just thank her two lovely boys for arousing her to such a fever pitch.

Then Sherlock moved his hips just so and John moved his tongue just so and Molly was wailing at the top of her lungs as her orgasm hit with tsunami force, driving her to the edge of consciousness but never quite tipping her over as pleasure spiked through her body.

She felt Sherlock reaching his climax a few minutes later, saw him and John kissing as spasms rocked Sherlock's body, but was floating in a delirious haze of satiated pleasure and simply lay there, content to watch. Then she found herself sandwiched between the two men as they lay on either side of her, John against her back and Sherlock to her front, and decided as she drifted into sleep that this, hands down, was the absolutely greatest night of her life.

And then the morning came, and they started all over again, forcing her to revise her opinion over and over again.