Sherlock Imagines [ Book 2 ]

𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳 [ SH ]

TYPE: SONGFIC ( only angel by Harry styles)
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader
Warnings: sexual

It was an Angel.
I really saw an Angel.

It was something in the way she moved.

It was something in the way her hips swayed along to the thrumming beat, the fabric of her dress following the pattern set by her perfect figure. How her lips parted and her finger beckoned him forth like a siren's call with (color) eyes that reflected the bright strobe lighting.

Sherlock Holmes did not belong in a club.

He did not belong standing at a bar with a drink in his hand, watching as she stepped across the dance floor in a perfect sync, sweat beading as the heat intensified as the group of people grew closer together.

Her finger moved again and it was as if she had a leash, tugging him forward as his feet betrayed his ever working mind as stepped closer. His eyes traveling down and back up again, resting on her own once again as something primal burned within them. She slid her hands along his chest, tugging the corners of his collar apart a bit until a button came loose from it's hold. He could feel her breath against his pale skin, causing goosebumps to form.

Suddenly, the drug exchange he was suppose to be monitoring seemed to fade into nothing but a distant memory that was over come with a surge of adrenaline and booming music as she took his hands and placed them on her hips.

He could hear his name being called faintly from somewhere beyond, but her actions spoke louder as he moved with her in a haze. He opened his lips to speak, unsure what would fumble out but was quickly met with a finger tip against them, those ruby lips plastering into a smirk as she pulled him along and away from the crowd.

For a brief moment, Sherlock Holmes began to slip.

But Sherlock William Scott Holmes always bounces right back on to his feet.

Always.

Open up your eyes
Shut your mouth and see
I'm the only one who's still in love with me
I guess I'll be getting you stuck between my teeth
And there's nothing I can do about it

It was something in the way the fabric of her clothing piled along his bedroom floor.

It was something in the way he awoke to her smooth fingertips tracing his bare chest paired with the feeling of warm breath and lips against his neck. How the previous night was an incredible blur of passion and mistakes, but he couldn't be bothered as he closed his eyes. Sherlock Holmes had a firm understanding of biological reproduction, but never the amount of feeling and desire that could accompany it. Before he knew it lips were pushed back against his and the sheets were pulled up as she rolled back on top of him, with hands finding places as if they were meant to wander there. Movements he wasn't aware he was capable of as he rolled them right back over and her giggles filled the room.

Slowly, Sherlock's slip continued to grow until one foot had completely slid out from under him.

But he knew he'd recover.

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door
I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor
Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short
And I think that's what I like about it