My 400th follower over on Tumblr where i bumble around under the handle sweet-sweet-escape was the beautiful and lovely eyyopatrick.. She said she would love uni!lock fic with any rating at all.. So sky's the limit..

This was my inspiration..

'I met a girl in a bar who looked me straight in the eye then said, "I want you inside me,' within five minutes of meeting her. This happened at around 9pm and we didn't sleep together until the early hours of the morning, but I was in a state of high state excitement from that moment on. That's what I call good foreplay.'

Simon 29, sales representative

Excerpt taken from Hot Sex ~ Tracey Cox

**Please check my profile for links to visuals for Molly and Sherlock.. Not necessary but fun if you feel like it!**

Running her fingers through John's silken blonde hair, Mary allowed her nails to graze his scalp, loving the way he arched into her adoring touch.

Glancing idly around the room, she took in the couples sprawled here and there in the murky gloom, gyrating and bumping and grinding in an endless, messy sea of limbs. Many of the couples were behaving in a less-than-chaste fashion, which Mary found a little coarse. And although she wouldn't have minded getting in on one of the joints being passed around, she knew John would be pissed and Sherlock would likely use the fact of her partaking as an excuse to score his own - truly dangerous - drug of choice.

A petite figure swayed and moved through the room, coming toward them purposefully. An ethereal goddess in a baby doll dress, ankle socks and cream, vintage high heels beautifully tied in bows at the front completed the ensemble.

Excited to see her roomy, she raised an arm, calling, "Molls!" Pushing both her bag and a disgruntled Sherlock's feet aside to make space for her in their cosy little corner spot.

Sherlock of course, against all odds had managed to snag a bloody arm chair, right next to them. To be fair he had offered his prize to Mary but his face had been so absurd at the very prospect of sullying his clothes on the perfectly clean carpet, that she had laughed and waved him off. So there he sat, like a king, surveying his kingdom and its serfs.

Hmm, not for long, she thought with amusement. Molly was a woman on a mission and dressed to kill.

~o0oo0oo0o~

Dropping to her knees in front of them, flinging her clutch down, Molly exclaimed with a grin, "Watson! Morstan!" Waggling her brows and gesturing behind her to the other couples making use of the dark, she teased, "Bit buttoned-down for a Uni party? Yeah?"

Mary laughed before slyly pointing to her left. Gasping, hand on her heart, she exclaimed in a high, falsetto, "Why look who's here!" Eyes wide and twinkling mischievously, she grinned at Molly and relaxed into John's welcoming embrace.

Molly's eyes widened when they alighted on Sherlock, her breathing deepening even as her cheeks flushed. As she watched, he in his turn took her in.

Without moving so much as a hair, his eyes roamed slowly, insolently, over her, his mouth turning down slightly as he shifted his gaze back to the wall, the whole thing took less than ten seconds and culminated in a deliberately obvious, audible sigh.

Fixed on him, Molly pushed herself first to her knees and then to her feet, exposing the pale flesh of her smooth, slim thighs in the process.

This was quite the crowd pleaser; from among the whistles and cat calls issuing from a group of young men who had watched her procession through the room with great interest, came, "Show us yer fanny love!"

He may as well have been a mosquito watching through plate glass for all the attention Molly showed the young Lothario. Her eyes never for a moment wavered from Sherlock. She was a predator and he - unsuspecting though he was - had become the hunted.

Grinning, Mary elbowed John, "I do believe Mr Sherlock Holmes has met his match."

"Met his match?" He paused, clearly aiming for diplomacy, he had hopes of taking his girl to his place and he wasn't keen on ruining his chances. "Erm, Mary, no offence to your friend, I mean, she's lovely and all, but Sherlock doesn't - "

Taking hold of his hand, she brought it to her lips, pressed a soft kiss on the warm skin and whispered, a triumphant smile in her voice, "Hush John, just watch."

~o0oo0oo0o~

Feeling eyes on him, tentacles of want curling around him, Sherlock isolated and focused on the source. Under-graduate, cat lover, good girl, eager. With that last, his eyes glazed over, dismissing her.

Absolutely safe in his certain knowledge that ignoring her so ostentatiously would wound her fragile ego well enough to act as a deterrent, he closed his eyes. Retreating into his mind palace, he sighed with relief as the 'music' - erratic, pounding, noise - faded from his consciousness. The discomfort of the saggy faux-leather chair receding.

A hand, warm, intimate, on his thigh almost - to his chagrin - startled him. Clenching his jaw, determined to look unaffected - however much that may be untrue - opening his eyes to see who had dared; he fell head first into a pair of warm, playful, brown orbs.

Deepest brown in colour, shining with intelligence and wisdom. The pupils expanding even as they focussed on him, zigzagging wildly as though wishing to take in every square inch of him. Her lips, thin, of an unusual, though not unattractive shape, curved into a smile and he found his gaze lingering involuntarily.

Apprehension loomed but he remained confident that he could easily withstand her advances. Many had tried, all had failed.

The closest he had ever come was during upper sixth when he and Irene had - cutting that thought off, he feigned boredom in an attempt to conceal his increasingly unsettled feelings, allowing himself to take refuge behind closed lids. No respite to be found there, a pair of cold-blooded, piercing blue eyes and a blood-red smirk with talons to match assaulted his senses.

Opening his eyes again as the matching hand landed boldly, even higher up on his opposite thigh, he was unable to disguise the twitch in his jaw.

With a feeling approaching anger he recognised that the warm brown eyes meeting his own arctic stare were not like those of The Woman. In these particular eyes there dwelled no artifice, no pretence, hook or bait; just a simple and honest enjoyment taken in regarding his countenance, that, and an obvious desire. Though confusingly, not the desire to conquer, rather the desire to join, to be equal and to give and receive pleasure.

Unsurprisingly, she knew his name, most did. It wasn't vanity to think so, or not entirely, it was simply fact. He was well known around campus, cutting his way through swathes of co-eds using his rapier wit as a scythe. A man with few friends and even less interest in dating.

Her voice was breathy, anticipatory, rounded out prettily by a smile. Her gaze danced across his face, playful. Until she offered her own name, at which point her pupils darkened dangerously, bottomless pools dragging him in; or were they tunnelling into his? Either way, the effect remained constant, paralysing.

"Sherlock? I'm Molly, Molly Hooper."

Looking down and then back up through her lashes, she smiled almost shyly before uttering five little words that rocked his world. "I want you inside me."

Time slowed, an oceanic rush filled his ears, the room rolled away on silent castors, leaving only Molly. His very self dissolving into her.

He nodded in agreement, quite sure he'd never heard a better idea. Without making up his mind to do so, he tipped forward, his eyes pools of darkest night, a sliver of midnight in each.

Soft lips were pressed to his and her sweet sigh filled his mouth. Slim thighs replaced her hands as she settled across his lap. His cock, seeking contact, strained up to meet her hot core, his hips jerking urgently. His hands came up and tangled in her long hair, spilling bobby pins as he freed her tresses from their constricting bun. Curling his fingers into a fist, he yanked her head back sharply.

Neck exposed beautifully, she moaned. As his lips made pilgrimage, paying homage to the beauty of her delicate pale neck he nipped the intimately placed freckle under her ear. Pelvises pressed firmly together, she moved in ever decreasing circles seeking her pleasure on the tip of his jean clad cock.

Sherlock groaned, any thought of propriety had long since fled, his only focus was her.

A hand, solid and sharp on his shoulder. Shook him with a grip hard enough to divot the skin, nails very nearly piercing the thin fabric of his designer shirt.

Mary's voice sounded distant, hissing, "Sherlock! Don't make me pour cold water over you both."

Pulling away from Molly's deliciously delicate clavicle, he opened his mouth, ready to explain about Molly wanting him inside her and that he certainly had nowhere else to be. When Mary turned to his paramour his mouth snapped shut again.

Wheedling now, Mary entreated softly, "Take him home Molly, maybe not the right spot for a live sex show, yeah?" Eyebrows raised, she appealed to her friend's - usual - sense of respectability.

Open mouthed, lips kiss swollen, a flush spreading, bright across his treacherously high cheeks, Sherlock looked on as Molly surveyed the room.

Her gaze cast a net over their surroundings, eyes flicking rapidly as she catalogued the room in its entirety as though giving serious consideration to the suggestion of their putting on a performance.

His breath hitched, just the thought of turning her around, pulling up her skirt and yanking her underwear to the side before impaling her on his thick cock, had his prick twitching. Hands surging up to palm her breasts, before sliding down to her shapely backside and using his grip to guide her up and down. Losing themselves in carnal bliss while the room looked on.

Panting, loud in his ears - his own - brought him back to the here and now which exceeded even the fantasy. Molly was clearly ready and willing to allow him to debauch her in any way he might see fit.

Molly, Molly Hooper, he corrected himself hazily, was smiling at him, a conspiratorial, sly, knowing thing. It made his cock ache, he desperately wanted to learn what she so clearly wished to teach, wanted to give her what she so clearly wished to take. Urgently.

She gave a nod and licked her lips and his prick pulsed in anticipation.

"Right," he barked out hoarsely, "Good night Mary, John." Nodding at his friend in turn, who sat looking stunned, as though he was witnessing an alien invasion, or possible possession of his friend.

Looking to Molly, he was rewarded with her widening smile, though she made no move to get up, simply slipped her bag over her shoulder and raised her brows. Pulling her forward, flush against his body, he wrapped her legs snugly around his waist and picked her up.

A great cheer went up from the onlookers, finally someone had cracked that strange nut Sherlock Holmes. The whooping and hollering faded from his ears as he moved through the crowd quickly and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Where's your dorm?" he asked his gorgeous little nymph.

Flicking her head, she gestured to the right, "Four doors."

"Oh thank God," he breathed, grinning with relief.

As he carried her along the hallway, one hand was already grappling with the buttons of his jeans, murmuring to him how sexy he was and how she needed to be fucked.

Slamming her against the wall, "Shall I fuck you right here? Right here where anyone can come along and see you riding my cock?"

Arching her back and gasping, she begged, "Don't be a tease."

Further down the hall a door opened and he laughed, already moving to her door. "Maybe next time, but Molly," he warned, "I don't share."

Her smile at this was breathtaking, clearly he'd said something, very, very good.

Eyes blazing, holding his gaze, she informed him huskily, "I want you so badly."

Swallowing hard, he balanced her against the door while he slipped his hand into her small bag to grasp her keys, inadvertently grinding her sex against his engorged shaft as he did so.

Closing her eyes, she rolled her hips back and forth, before asking, "Is it big? Is your cock big, Mr Sherlock Holmes?"

Biting down on his lip hard, he managed to avoid groaning as the young man who had opened the door walked past, staring at them with owl-like eyes.

Crushing Molly against the door, he leaned forward and slid the key into the lock. "It's certainly big for you Molly Hooper, I don't think I've ever been this hard in my entire life."

The door fell open and they went with it, sprawling across the floor in a heap.

He grunted, even as Molly was already kneeling in front of him, pulling him into position and tugging at his jeans.

"Drum roll please," she smirked. Having successfully pulled his jeans down, she bit her lip and looked up, catching his eyes. "Oh good boy, ver-ry nice." Licking her lips, she sighed, her expression dreamy, "You have a truly gorgeous cock, Sherlock. Tall like you but so thick, hmmm."

His ego was stroked beautifully by her words and his cock twitched visibly tearing another moan from Molly's lips as she stared at it.

Getting into the spirit, he drilled her with his eyes, "Are you wet Molly Hooper?"

Piling her skirt around her hips, revealed a dark triangle rising above her glistening pink cleft, "Oh God yes, I'm so wet for you Sherlock Holmes." Leaning back and further exposing herself to him, she palmed her pussy, dipping her fingers into her folds before holding up her dripping fingers, offering, "Open."

He did so, sucking her fingers with gusto, twirling his tongue over and around them eagerly. The slurping and smacking easily reducing them both groaning messes.

"Condom?" He rasped out brokenly. Watching in awe as like a magician, her hand reached into her handbag and ta-da!

Winking at him, she ripped open the corner with her teeth. Having squeezed the condom from its sheath however, she paused, hovering just above the head of his prick and quirking a brow at him.

"Oh god, yes! Please, please fuck me Molly Hooper." He was grinning but his hips gave away his desperation, jerking in a carnal rhythm.

Her dexterous fingers rolled the latex carefully down over his shaft while he silently recited the digits of Pi. Allowing his eyes to slip closed for a moment, he focussed on the digits unfurling through the hallways of his mind palace.

A sudden shock of cold air on his thighs signalled the loss of one Molly Hooper.

Frantic, his eyes sprang open. Molly stood above him, giving a direct view of her juicy sex.

"Oh dear God, but you're sexy." Looking up and over her body in wonder.

As her hands bunched up the skirt of her dress, he realised that he was utterly in awe of this stunning creature, who had looked so deceptively sweet upon first perusal. He had never been so happy to miss hidden depths in his entire life.

Swaying her hips, side to side, she bit her lip and asked huskily, "You want it?"

Gulping hard, he nodded.

Extending her hand to him, she jerked her head toward the bed. "You are far too pretty to be wasted on the floor, I want to ride you like a rodeo bull and then I want you to take me from behind. Hard. Can you keep up?"

"Yes," he hissed, dragging himself up, he could give as good as he got. Managing to go without sex had not been easy, self-control was not his forté. Teeth gritted, he pulled back, looking in her eyes, "I'm going to fuck you all night long. I am always the best at any task I choose to undertake. Always. Do you understand?"

Lying back on the bed, legs swung wide, Molly ran her hands over her breasts, tweaking her nipples through her dress. Tilting her chin, she informed him, "I can achieve multiple orgasms on my own, with my..toys. No man has ever taken me there. So I guess it'll come down to this Sherlock Holmes, who is better, the toys or you?"

His cock twitched, eager to have her, to show her. Grinning, eyes lit from within by what John would have described as his case face. More specifically, the expression that heralded news of a nine or more. John Watson wasn't present - to the relief of all involved - but it was fairly plain to see that Molly Hooper had co-opted his complete and utter focus.

Pushing his jeans down and toeing off his shoes and socks, he took his time unbuttoning his shirt, well aware that Molly was enjoying the view every bit as much as he was delighting in the show that she was putting on for him.

Her hands had slipped down, over her flat stomach before, snaking between the vee of her legs. "I'll just give you a little running start, shall I?"

Unbuttoning slowly, he stopped between each to pinch his nipples or stroke his chest, keeping her attention centred on him, even as his own eyes never left her questing fingers.

With one hand she concentrated on squeezing her labia while the other danced rapidly, lightly across her clitoris. "I could come just from watching you, you're beautiful, tall, achingly masculine, well built, dexterous."

Dipping a finger inside, she laughed triumphantly when he bit his lip, his eyes widening.

Slipping his shirt off of his shoulders, he dropped to his knees between hers and gently eased her finger out. Sucking it into his mouth, he was smug when she spat, "Fuuccckkk."

"Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh. Not yet," he admonished.

Lying on his stomach, positioned so that his nose and mouth were mere millimetres from her sweet pussy. Curving his tongue, he leaned forward and drew her lips and swollen little bud into his mouth. Tart musk coated his tongue, he groaned and rutted his cock on the blanket under him, grateful for the condom desensitising him.

Still sucking, he thumbed her clitoris before sliding his tongue inside her. "God, you're fucking amazing."

"Don't stop, please, I'm going to come in your mouth - ohhhhh! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh that's so nice, you feel so good."

Keeping up his assault, he was grateful to be unable to speak as he realised with embarrassment that he was cheering her in his mind with such banalities as, Oh yeah baby, come for me baby.

Isolating her clit, he swirled his tongue around and around, circling purposefully. When he pushed his fingers inside her gloriously hot, wet channel, she bucked up toward him and positively howled her pleasure.

Hands tugging his hair firmly, "Oh, fucking yeah, suck my fucking cunt, I have dreamed about this. Oh, ah, Sherlock I'm coming, I'm coming."

Her hips were soaring, muscles in her legs locked and her fingers twisted into his curls with a grip tight enough to make him both wince and pray it would never end.

Utterly mesmerised, Sherlock urged his body desperately not to come, unwilling to embarrass himself. Infinitely thankful for his marvellous foresight in having masturbated twice before he left.

This girl was amazing, her orgasm sheer beauty, she was so uninhibited and that dirty mouth. Sweet and without guile in her little baby doll dress, now screaming profanities and describing their tryst in the basest words. This, this was what Sherlock had been waiting for but didn't know he needed. He'd had no idea sex would feel like this and he was fairly certain that it wouldn't - not with anyone else.

Pushing him away gently, she lay panting for a moment, eyes closed, a smile playing about her lips, looking as though she'd been transported to nirvana.

He flopped down next to her, flexing his cock forward by pressing his thumb against the base. When she turned to him, he looked her in the eye, "Ride me."

Chest heaving, she snuck another look at his bobbing prick and with a pleased smile, she climbed over him, her knees either side of his muscular, yet slim legs. With a devilish grin she whispered, "Kiss me, let me taste my orgasm in your mouth; on your tongue."

Cock pulsing unbearably, he tugged her down none-too-gently and did just that. Wrapping his hand around the back of her head, he pulled her to him, thrusting his tongue roughly into her mouth before pulling it back, and when she chased, sucking furiously on the tip of her tongue.

Moaning and whimpering, she rocked her pussy against his stomach, rubbing her clit over him, the thought of her slick juices painting his skin making him desperate.

Pulling away from the kiss, he grasped her hips, his meaning clear.

"Take me," she ordered, begged? It was hard to know who was in control of what.

"Sit on my cock, now," he bit out breathlessly.

"Oh, fuck." Lifting her hips, frantic, she positioned his prick with shaking hands, before finally sheathing him in her warmth. "Oh fuck," she repeated, senselessly.

Sherlock's mouth was wide open, his body swept up in an intense wave of pleasure he'd never even imagined could exist beyond a seven percent solution. His hands came up, without thought, yanking at her dress, soft skin sliding under his palms as he found her breasts.

Bouncing up and down, apparently utterly lost in her pleasure, Molly chanted again and again, "Oh, my god, your cock, your fucking cock."

Her breathing getting heavier and heavier, experimentally, he ran his fingers over her clit.

"Oh my darling, oh that's it, that's good, take care of me. Ohhhh."

As her orgasm ripped through her, Sherlock clung on for dear life, counting breaths and valiantly tuning out his cock. Utterly awed by her beauty, he stared at her, marvelling at the fact that this Venus, this Aphrodite, wanted him, not something from him, just him.

When she collapsed onto his chest, he gave her a moment to recover, before he grabbed a pillow. Positioning it next to them, he told her gruffly, "Lay on your stomach."

When she did so, he lifted her skirt and threaded the pillow through to rest under her pelvis and tugged her hair, whispering in her ear, "You asked for this."

She moaned, "Yes, yes, I did. Take me. I need to be fucked."

Holding his cock at the base and swirling the head around her vulva, running it over her lips and circling her clit in precise little movements, he admonished, "You forgot something."

"Please, please, I need to be fucked." She cried out, pushing her arse up at him wantonly.

He smoothed his hands over her backside, enjoying the smooth unblemished skin and the surprisingly curvaceous shape for one so slim. He slipped just the tip of his prick into her and she pushed back trying to take more. As she did so, he moved out of reach and she whimpered.

In a voice as dark as his desire, he praised, "Please is beautiful, I like please."

Her hips moved up and down, shamelessly seeking friction from the pillow, "I don't know, I - ?" Biting her lip, she looked over her shoulder at him, pleading.

"You didn't say who you needed to be fucked by Molly." He berated crisply, punctuating his statement by slapping her arse as he did so.

Eyes wide, she babbled, "You, you. Sherlock Holmes. I've - I've fucked myself with my fingers, my toys, again and again, calling your name each time, every time since I first saw you."

"Good." With this last, he finally relented, pushing into her wet heat with a roar.

Molly swore, her hands screwed into the sheets, scrunching fistfuls hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Leaning her head on her forearm, she used her free hand to seek her clitoris, rubbing relentlessly. Less than a minute found her wailing about his thick cock; how he filled her like she'd never been filled before and how she hoped the whole fucking dorm could hear because he was without doubt, the absolute fucking sexiest man she'd ever seen in her entire life.

Keeping his strokes smooth and slow through her rush, he managed to keep himself in check. When she was still, he whispered to her that she was beautiful and his fantasy girl. Telling her how he would fuck her in every position, with every toy she had ever touched until she was all his, and she could never touch herself or fantasise without seeing his face, feeling his hands and his cock.

Running his palms over her silky thighs, across her back and under her dress, before kissing her softly just under her ear. Sweeping her hair out of the way, he exposed her elegant neck. Admiring the pale, swan-like qualities, he moved slowly, sucking, licking and nipping.

Drawing sweet sighs of pleasure from her in the sudden and unexpected stillness, music to his ears.

Molly turned her head toward him and they kissed deeply. Melding mouths and tongues together seamlessly, as though they'd known each other intimately before, many, many times. Her body so warm and soft under him, the texture of the fabric of her dress a pleasing contrast and heightening his senses.

The way she was moaning into his mouth and circling her hips as his cock moved in and out of her sex was indescribably beautiful.

Pulling back, he whispered, "You fascinate me Molly Hooper."

He caught the briefest hint of a smile as she turned back, dissolving into cries of pleasure as his fingers found her clit.

As her pussy rippled and twitched around his cock, he took a hold of her hips and gripped the skin, speeding up, his thrusts wild as he drove himself ever deeper.

"Come for me Sherlock, I wanna feel you lose control." She turned toward him again, watching.

He could see how she liked to watch, almost as much as he delighted in watching her. He'd watched her come apart under him three times and all she desired - for now - was to see him in a state of bliss just once.

Grunting, sweat poured down his face as he let himself go, pure physical pleasure claiming him. His cries and grunts animalistic as he gritted out through bared teeth, "Mine. Mine." Hips snapping against her arse until with one last, deep thrust, his come gushed into the condom in hot spurts.

Molly sighed as he landed heavily on top of her, "Oh you filled me up so well, to feel that bare." She shuddered with pleasure, her skin raised with goose bumps at the thought.

Panting, Sherlock gasped out, "So we get tests and we sleep only with each other," he paused, considering. "Are you monogamous?"

Laughing, Molly assured him, "I've had one partner, Tom. He was boring and couldn't keep up. I've never behaved like this with anyone else. Ever since I saw you coming to collect John when he was with Mary, I've thought of no one but you while touching myself."

Rolling off of her, he asked, "When?" Sliding the condom off, he tied it, murmuring, "Tissues?"

Reaching over to her night stand, she grabbed a pack and passed them to him, mumbling, "Three months ago."

Balling up the tissue with the spent, carefully knotted prophylactic inside, he frowned, "But I've never..?"

Hanging her head, she covered her face, "I had to break up with Tom first!" Peeking out, clearly embarrassed but still grinning, she admitted with a shrug, "You took off your scarf and it was over. What can I say? He was such a lovely boy but I need a man."

"You planned this?" He asked, impressed.

"Right down to the lack of underwear," she nodded. "I owe you so many orgasms."

Propping himself up onto an elbow, he lobbed the tissue and its contents at the bin, "And I'll be collecting each and every one, Molly Hooper, but I am going to need to see those toys."

Face lighting up, Molly asked, "You're not erm… intimidated?"

Glancing down at his body with a cocky grin, he asked, "Should I be?"

Sighing with pleasure, Molly shook her head, "Not. At. All." Running a finger down his chest.

"In the name of science and figuring out just how many orgasms you're capable of having in a single session, I do believe I need to taste you again."

Bending his head and taking a nipple into his mouth while massaging the other, he chuckled when he felt Molly's hands in his hair, pushing him down, "Lower."

"As you wish." He agreed with a smile.

~Fin~

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