Also here on AO3, if you like.
I love, love, love this! XD
Warning: This fic contain consensual BDSM and this one is (of course) NSFW.
"Come now, don’t be shy.” He had whispered to her the first time they had sex. (Sometimes she thought of it as making love, but that was only just for a moment. They didn’t make love. They had sex. They fucked. She was okay with this.)
She had blushed, but nodded and uncrossed her legs where his hand had been trying to get to her knickers.
She wasn’t shy anymore.
Then she was. Then she was fresh out of medical school and a first year at the London Starfleet Academy. She scurried about to her classes, always quiet as a church mouse and always walked with her head down.
She was the funny one, the one who liked dead things and found them fascinating, but found space even more fascinating than anything dead could be.
She was the one with the glasses that nearly covered her whole face. (She really hadn’t had time to change them.) She was the one that liked vintage sweaters and cherries and bright knits. She was the one that stuttered if she got flustered and thought herself painfully shy.
But he, oh he was handsome, breathtakingly so.Tall and muscular, with hands that looked as though they were sculpted by an ancient master.
Heterochromatic. That was the first word that crossed her mind when she saw him.
His eyes, they were different colors, one having more copper than the other. They were like a kaleidoscope. (She felt cheesy the moment she thought this, quickly ducking her head and scurrying along .) He’d never want a mouse like her.
I’m just writing down some ideas upon this ship: I haven’t decided yet if I will incorporate them into a real story…for now, I just need to let them out. Plus, it’s a good way to fight the massive writer’s block that is tormenting me since January.
The first time she saw him, it was late April and it was raining. Molly was used to London’s spring: the city was often bathed in warm, glorious sunshine, but there were still days when the weather was unpredictable, and a sunny morning could change into a windy and rainy afternoon. Obviously, it was always during days like those that she forgot her little yellow umbrella at her flat, and now, at the end of her shift, she had no umbrella, the rain was pouring down, and the gentle breeze that had caressed her skin pleasantly only eight hours before, was now a high wind, menacing to mess her hairstyle even more than a long, exhausting day of work. The former pathologist, now MD, raised the collar of her trench-coat, in the vain hope to protect herself at least from the cold air, and tried a few steps out from the projecting roof, pondering if it were manageable for her flat shoes to help her running in the rain towards the nearest Tube station.