A/N: For benedicted-cumberbatched, for heroically not jumping all over a post on tumblr that tried to make the Emmy wins for Sherlock all about a certain pairing, and for venting to me about it privately instead. Also, this is the closest I can come to a Dom!Molly/Sub!Khan dynamic during the sexytimes, hope it works for you all!

"Well, Dr. Hooper, this is a surprise."

The prisoner speaks in a low voice, barely audible, and a knowing smirk plays about his full lips. The guard eyes him suspiciously but Molly Hooper, newest member of the Enterprise medical staff, waves him way with a level of irritation worthy of her immediate superior, Dr. Leonard McCoy.

"Shut it, 'John'," she snaps in an equally low voice as she glares at the prisoner. "It's your fault I'm on this death trap so don't try to chat me up."

"Ah, but it's also your own fault you're on this death trap," he replies softly. His arm is extended through the opening in the transparent aluminum front of his cell, ostensibly for the petite doctor to draw some of his blood for McCoy to examine. Actually what she is doing, and he well knows it, is using this as an excuse to gauge his usefulness in extracting her from the situation into which she's been so unwillingly thrust.

In other words, will 'John Harrison' be able to help her escape to the Vengeance, which she knows is currently on its way, and help her overpower Marcus' skeleton crew of mostly hired muscle, then flee the Federation before the Klingons appear?

Of course he will; that is, the man he truly is, Khan Noonien Singh, will be able to help her. And she will be able to help him, but he knows she is more concerned with whether she can trust him or not. After all, he is not the man she thought she knew, the one she took into her bed and her sweet, pleasantly limber little body on so many nights over the past six months.

He presses the back of his forearm against the front of hers and catches her eyes with his. She stares at him, then gives a curt nod and breathes out a sigh of capitulation. Then she draws his blood, he retracts his arm and watches as the opening is closed, and with a swish of her chestnut-colored ponytail, she is gone.

A half-hour later his guards look up in alarm; he hears the hiss of gas flooding the brig – everywhere except within his hermetically sealed chamber – and smiles in grim satisfaction as they collapse, unconscious. He has no doubt the same scenario is playing out all over the Enterprise at this very moment, and soon the helmeted figure of Molly Hooper reenters the room. She punches in the code that drops the sheet of transparent aluminum into its slot on the floor, and he steps out, unaffected by the gas now that it's been diluted a bit. An unaugmented human would still be rendered unconscious in this concentration, but his lungs easily filter out the anesthetic as he strides across the chamber to Molly's side.

"All right, now what?" she demands, her voice tinny and distant through the speakers in the clear plast-steel mask covering her face.

"Engineering," he replies, then takes her hand and pulls her along, to ensure that they are neither separated nor that she lags behind. And also...because he wants to. The Vengeance will be here soon, and shortly after its arrival, the Klingons, and Khan has no intention of missing this opportunity to free his seventy-two brethren whilst simultaneously whisking both Molly and the dreadnaught he helped design and build out from under Marcus' nose.

Molly is correct; it is technically Khan's fault she has been assigned to the Enterprise, ostensibly to make sure that Kirk carries out his orders, but in actuality because Marcus doesn't like loose ends. And Molly Hooper, Section 31 Agent and 'John Harrison's' lover, is a very, very loose end. Marcus has gone to a great deal of trouble to ensure that everyone involved in his skullduggery dies, and both Khan and Molly are just as determined not to become victims of the Admiral's dangerous obsession.

oOo

A half an hour later, just as the first crewmembers are beginning to recover from their unexpected naps, the hum of a transwarp transporter device fills the Engineering deck, and within seconds Khan, Molly, and the seventy-two modified photon torpedo casings containing the sleeping Augments are safely away. Ten minutes after that Marcus and his private security goons – along with one stowed-away Enterprise Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott – find themselves beamed over to the Enterprise brig. Well, the Admiral and his goons are; Scott is beamed directly to the bridge to deliver Khan's message to Kirk. A message, and a warning: Do not attempt to follow us, even if you get your ship back into working order before the Klingons arrive to destroy you for invading their territory.

Then they are gone, and Khan and Molly find themselves alone on the flight deck of their purloined dreadnaught, while his crew sleeps on, oblivious of their fate.

She is still angry, with him, with Marcus, with the universe, but that doesn't stop her from walking up to Khan, grabbing his head with both hands, and pulling him down for a ferocious kiss. His hands land on her hips, jerking their bodies closer together; he grinds his pelvis against hers and she moans at the feel of his massive erection burning like a brand even through multiple layers of clothing.

The captain's chair is very much like a throne; Marcus thought Khan designed it that way for him, as the Admiral intended to captain this ship himself, but Khan always knew it was for himself. However, he never pictured the use to which he and Molly are about to put it; he has torn off her knickers and hiked her blue uniform skirt up over her hips as she kneels over him. Her small, impatient hands undo the fastenings to his trousers and tug his cock free. With her hands on his shoulders and his on her hips, she lowers herself, already wet and ready for him, and he groans as he is sheathed in her hot wetness.

Khan throws his head back as Molly grabs his wrists and pushes his hands away, wordlessly instructing him to leave them clenched on the arms of the chair. He does so, although it is a struggle; he wishes to bury his hands in her hair, grab her hips tightly enough to bruise, make her move at his speed and to his rhythm, but she has more than earned the right to direct their mutual pleasure as she sees fit.

She makes soft noises as she rises and falls above him, gasps and catches of breath that are nearly enough to undo him, let alone the fire of their coupling. But he has ceded control to her, their first time together with no secrets, no lies between them. She is no longer sleeping with him under orders from Admiral Marcus, and he is no longer forced to call himself John Harrison. Beneath her sweetly compliant exterior, he always sensed a heart of steel to this woman, and her actions this day have proven him right.

She kisses him, never ceasing the urgent rise and fall of her body over his, her fingernails digging lightly into his shoulders. He know she cannot physically hurt him, no matter how good her training as a Section 31 operative; not without a weapon other than her sweat-slicked body, but at the same time, he knows she can destroy him with a single word.

He hopes she is unaware of this hold she has over him, that even if she'd insisted on staying with the Enterprise he would have brought her with him, selfishly and unhesitatingly. But he is glad it was her choice to come with him, and he is arrogant enough to believe that she will continue to warm his bed, to be his right hand. His people will have no problem accepting her, seeing the cunning warrior that he has fallen in love with as well as the caring doctor that is yet another part of her complex, endlessly fascinating self.

Molly leans down and nips his earlobe, hard; Khan looks up and she is grinning down at him. "Stay with me," she says in a husky voice. "I need you right here with me, because as soon as I come – and that won't be long, I can promise you that – then you can, too. But not a second before," she warns in a growl. His hands tighten on the arms of the chair, gripping it almost painfully as she moves her hips in a rotating motion that nearly drives him to distraction. He wants to hold her, to throw her down on the floor and fuck her mercilessly, but she is in control, she needs to be in control and he needs it as well. So he drops his head back again and groans his acquiescence, and his mind goes beautifully blank as she begins to move faster and harder, her lips on his throat and her fingers on his shoulder and then she is crying out his name, wailing her release as her inner walls pulse and flex around him.

When she shudders and collapses against him, he waits for a minute, feeling the pounding of her heart gradually slowing to normal; then he murmurs, "May I?" and she nods, and his hands are on her hips and he is thrusting ruthlessly into her even as he stands, holding her tight to his body. The metal deck is cold and hard but she makes no complaints as he lays her down and continues to press himself deep, deep within her; soon she is moving again, and her fingers drift downward, rubbing her clit in time to his thrusts and he is certainly man enough to puff up with pride at the thought that he's going to make her come for a second time, so quickly after the first.

Her cries of release are sharper this time, and they spur him to his own climax. He comes with a shout, fingers digging into her shoulders as he grinds against her. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing raggedly, heart pounding, the aftermath of pleasure slowly dissipating as she gently presses her hands to his chest, signaling for him to untangle himself from her.

He watches, half-reclining on the deck, as she straightens her uniform and pulls her regulation blue knickers back on. She doesn't bother with her hair, simply pulling it over her shoulders and tucking it behind her ears. He tucks himself back into his trousers and refastens them, rising slowly to his feet and wondering what she is thinking.

When he is standing, she looks up at him, an unreadable expression on her face. Just as he opens his mouth to ask her…something, he isn't sure what…she steps forward and pulls him into her arms, resting her cheek on his chest and embracing him tightly. He returns the embrace and rests his cheek on the top of her head. They stay that way for a long while, before Molly sighs and eases her grip. "All right, Captain Khan," she says, angling her head to look up at him with a small, tight smile. "What's next for us?"

"For us personally or for us as the new crew of this starship?" he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. Burning to know it, truth be told.

"Both," she replies, and he pulls her close for a lingering kiss. She sighs when it ends. "All right, that's us sorted," she murmurs with another smile, a contented one this time. "So where are we going, you and I and this ship and your Sleeping Beauty crew?"

"Anywhere we want," he rumbles as he stares out at the racing stars on the forward viewscreen. "Somewhere far away from the Federation and the Klingons and their inevitable war. Someplace," he adds softly, "we can make a home and a life for ourselves."

"Perfect," she sighs, and together they contemplate the future that awaits them, knowing they will never be alone ever again.