The ride home was tenuous at best.
Kairi decided to be a little bit impetuous, sitting on the opposite side of the cab and using all of her energy to pretend like she was barely interested in Sherlock's presence. Sherlock would just glance at her briefly, chuckle to himself and then stare out the window with a very smug smirk stretching his lips.
Upon arriving at Baker Street, Sherlock and Kairi approached the steps slowly, a small distance between them that Kairi kept insisting upon. She would glance back at him with a small grin, trying to be coy despite every inch of her vibrating in anticipation. Ever the gentleman, Sherlock followed, keeping his eyes from smoldering too much, opening the door for them and allowed her to walk in first with an air of chivalry. Kairi just laughed at him.
She kept the pleased grin on her lips when she stepped past him, head held high as she walked through the doorway and went to continue towards her home. No more than three steps in, even before the main door clicked shut, she felt Sherlock's hand wrap around her wrist. For a brief second, she smiled, anticipation warming deep within her chest, the second after that, she was spun on the spot, her mouth aligning with Sherlock's in such precision that she allowed an extra second to be impressed before absolute lust consumed her.
It began almost delicately, Sherlock's lips plying at hers, offering silent suggestions through the tiniest nips on her bottom lip or the ghost of his tongue tracing the upper one. She sighed into him, his taste, his weight against her, it was familiar and centering, a grin forced itself onto her lips though, much to their dismay, it broke the kiss's mesmerizing effects.
Sherlock pulled back hesitantly, gazing at her, his eyes questioning, probing, more forceful than the kiss a moment before. Kairi watched him, taking in his features and honestly surprised to see fear blinking in his eyes. She frowned at him momentarily, wondering why he would be so scared.
In that moment, her heart fluttered a little slower and she let out a heavy exhalation upon the realization that Sherlock was asking permission to continue. The heaviest aspect of this notion was not just the fact that Sherlock cared enough to ask permission when he usually did just about anything he wanted — damn all the consequences and anyone in his way. No, the thing that struck her so poignantly was that in his moment, in fact, the entire day, she had not been fearing her intimacy with Sherlock.
Every other aspect of her life had been so tainted with fear and insecurity before and after Moran, but during that day, she didn't fear Sherlock's touch. His grip on her waist, the strength of his hands around her, were not poisoned by the hands that had been there before. She did not find haunting memories creeping into her mind when his fingers traced along her sides or whispered up the curves of her breast. With Sherlock, his hand resting on the side of her face, his leather-clad thumb brushing gently on her cheek, Kairi did not have any fear. If she cared enough to cry at this moment, she feared she would never stop.
But right now, what she really wanted, was to screw this gorgeously caring man into madness and so she smiled.
Her hands grasped his lapels before he could manage to change his kind gaze to one of predatory delight and she yanked him to her. Her lips landing across his in finality, almost as if signifying that there would be no stopping past this point. She had needed him for a long time and she wouldn't pass up another opportunity.
With a delightful growl, Sherlock ripped off his gloves and tossed them aside, arms shooting around her waist and pulling her tighter into the kiss. His mouth desperate and consuming as he pressed into her. His hands grappled against her, strategically placed on her back to hold her against him completely, not daring to chance another annoying interruption.
