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storysofmyown · 4 years ago

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Obey me! Scarred, Chapt. 7

Plot: It’s time for the next step in Diavolo’s plan to unify the realms. But, in order to work, the demons would be subjected to confront their worst fears, and in some cases, who they are.

Trigger warning: None that i can think of

Word count: 2377

“Ya got to be kiddin’ me, I ain’t gonna wear this weird…uh…um…shirt I guess? To the damn ball.” Mammon threw the garment at Asmodeous bed, who made a cartoonish shriek.

“Mammon! You idiot! Do you have any idea how long it takes to steam the wrinkles off? And you are not going to do it, so its me the one who has to put their skin at risk in that heat just because you can’t be careful.” Asmodeous took the piece of clothe and hanged it on his closet, making sure no wrinkle was visible.

“Whatever, I don’t care. I have more important things to be doing than playing dress up with you two.”

“Who said I was playing dress up?” Mc looked up from the bed, barely maintaining eye contact with Mammon.

“Then why are ya here?”

“You literally dragged me out of my room so I would accompany you here.” Mc sat down; their eyes now open but not focusing on anything. “Plus, Asmo said there would be wine, so.” Asmodeous laughed and stuck his tongue out at Mammon, who huffed and growled in response. “C’mon, just sit down. Everything in here has been so chaotic since…well, God arrived that Lucifer has a headache 24/7. We are the only ones acting normal.” Mc sighed, they were worried for the others, but the demos refused to talk about what had happen, what that caused them to act this way.

“That’s not true, Levi hasn’t left his room in three whole days. That’s very Levi of him.” Asmo gave Mammon a glass of wine before sitting on the bed. Mammon made a point of sniffing it in case Asmo put anything weird in it, before just chugging everything down in one go.

“That ain’t entirely true. The other day, I went to see Levi, and the dweeb wasn’t doing anything. And I don’t mean as in, wasting time playing games and shit, no, he was literally buried under at least seven blankets and was just starring at Henrys tank all the time. Barely even acknowledge me.”

“Is that so?” Prompted Asmo.

“I payed him a visit. There was no sound on or anything, I called him, and he just yelled for me to leave him alone. I want to help but how can I help when he won’t tell me what’s wrong?” Mc groaned; they loved the seven idiots. At this point they were family to Mc, and that meant what affected the boys affected them.

“That is a little weird of him. I mean, he would never reject anyone that offered to watch anime or play videogames with him.” Asmo refilled all the cups.

The three of them stayed silent for a moment. Asmodeous chewed on his lower lip before sighing.

“Has Satan talked to any of you?” Mammon and Mc shook their heads. “Me neither, I tried giving him a book the other day, and he literally threw it at my face. He is out of control.” Once again, silence, this time broken by Mammon.

“What about Belphie and Beel? I haven’t seen Beel eat more than half a plate of food for over a week now. He IS the Avatar of Gluttony. His whole thing is food.”

“We baked him some cupcakes to try and cheer him up. He didn’t even touch them.” Asmo replied, pointing at Mc and then at himself. “Like, I know they were probably not that good, but they were better than Solomon’s cooking, which mean Beel would normally have eaten them with no problem.”

“Belphegor hasn’t slept in days.” Mc starred at their now empty cup.

“How do ya know that?”

“He won’t leave my room. He has stayed with me for a couple days, every time I wake up, I see him awake. All he does is stare at a bracelet on his hand.” Mc looked up at Asmo and Mammon, they all had the same expression on their faces.

“Anyway,” Asmo tried to sound as chipper as possible, forcing a smile on his lips. “Mammon, you said you had some more important things to care about. What is that all about?”

“Oh, so you know that one-time Mc…Belphie and I working at Hell’s Kitchen?” Mammon’s voice went quiet when mentioning Belphegor before picking up the tone he had started the sentence with. “Well, the dudes still had my phone, and it seems that a customer wants me personally to do his delivery. And get this, they will pay whatever amount I demand, all so I, the Great Mammon deliver some food and stuff. Can you believe this?” Mammon rested his back on the backrest of the chair while taking a long sip.

“That sounds a little suspiciou-” Asmodeous was cut short by Mc’s tired voice.

“I’m worried about them.” Silence fell momentarily in the room. None of them daring to speak up. The situation was getting worse by the day, their family was hurting, and they didn’t even knew why. It was scary, knowing that people you loved were going trough something and not being able to do anything about it.

“So am I” Lucifer’s voice cut in, pulling a chair and taking a whole bottle of wine that had yet to be open.

“Oi! How long have you been listening in?” Mammon jumped at Lucifer’s voice before sitting straight in the chair.

“There was no need for me to “listen in”, you three were talking loud enough that I could hear it in the kitchen.” The bags under the man’s eyes were noticeable, he had a demeanor that screamed how little care the man was putting on himself. His form seemed weaker and his tone did not have the usual authoritative undertone. Lucifer popped off the cork of the bottle and took a long sip. He wasn’t wearing his usual coat, vest open and with no tie.

“Are you okay?” Mc asked, leaving their cup on the side. Lucifer only gave a dry sarcastic laugh before just looking at the ceiling.

“Am I okay? Of course, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like ever since I saw my father’s face, I have been plagued with nightmares of him hurting another member of my family. Or the fact that when we are supposed to as closer as we can possible be, my brothers and my own son are more shut off than ever. Satan went back to hating me with every fiber of his being, Beelzebulb won’t talk to anyone, Belphegor and Leviathan have just shut off completely from the entire world.” Lucifer sighed, passing a hand through his hair.

Asmodeous felt tempted to take the bottle off from Lucifer, the man was not feeling well, and having him drunk would not do any good. He tried to do so, but Lucifer only shook his head, looking at Asmo, giving his younger brother a small smile before he caught Mammon starring. His expression was that of a child who had found out Santa Clause was not real, of a child whose hero turned out to be just a man who could get hurt, bleed, and die.

In all their years alive, Mammon had never seen Lucifer in such a helpless manner. It was like whatever drive had been keeping him functioning had met its limit, needed replacement or something. The man who was more of a father to any of them that their actual father could ever be, the man who, even though was the literal personification of pride, threw his reputation and believes away and damned himself to a life of servitude all so his little sister could have a shot at a normal life. Mammon would never say this out laud, but he appreciated how much Lucifer had sacrificed for their family.

“Lucifer, I-” Mammon was shushed when Lucifer put up his hand.

“I never told you two, or anyone else for that matter, about this but…after we fell, and Diavolo gave us this house, I promised myself I would do anything to keep my family together, because as long as I had you guys, I thought it would be okay. After all, we had gone through a hell of a war… and yet, somehow, we were still together, even if Lilith wasn’t there with us, I knew she was happy. And I wanted that for us as well, I wanted us to be happy. All of us.” Lucifer chuckled.

For a few seconds, after Lucifer finished, he laughed slightly, with a somber tone to his voice. Before getting up and walking towards the door, once at the edge of it, he turned around, barely even looking at the three stunned members of his family. He wondered where he had gone wrong, where everything had gone to shit, the reasons why he couldn’t protect his family and why were they going through stuff they don’t deserve. He felt his heart ache at the memories of a lifetime ago, at the times up with his Father when they thought he loved them.

He thought of Lilith and how much love she had to give; she was his little sister. And he would have given everything to protect her and every single member of his family, he would crawl through all the realms and sink to the bottom before trading his own life if it was necessary. But he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He was stuck with the weight of his mistakes and the regrets that weighed him down and ate him up every day, every moment of every second of every minute of his existence. This was his life. No matter how much he tried to make the family okay, the universe seemed to punish them all.

Lost in his thoughts, Lucifer arrived at his room. Ignoring the stack of papers in his desk and turning off his phone. Not even Diavolo was going to convince him of waking up early tomorrow. Lucifer kicked his shoes off, and without getting anything else off, he laid in bed, starring at the ceiling and wondering how could he be such a bad father and older brother.

Across the hallway, stood two demons and a human. Whom felt as hopeless as Lucifer. Mc wanted so badly to go after Lucifer and hug him but the first they needed to cry their feelings for a second. Mc got up from the bed, leaving and empty cup on Asmodeous bed and excused themselves. Mammon sighed, passing a hand through his hair. This was all wrong, none of this should be happening, and Mammon wanted to do something about it so badly.

“Mammon.” Asmodeous voice was hoarse and weak. Mammon ignored the feeling of tears accumulating in his eyes in order to pay attention to Asmodeous, who’s hair was covering his facial features while the younger demon starred at the floor.

“I know.” Mammon’s tone mirrored Asmodeous. “Me too Asmo, you and all the other bunch of idiots that live in this house.” Asmodeous laughed for less than a second, looking up, and in that moment, Mammon saw that he had been crying. Mammon moved to give his little brother a hug. They stayed like that for a while, Mammon trying to regain composure while Asmodeous fully sobbed on his older brother’s shoulder.

It was moments like this that showed them how much they did care for one another. Even if they were always fighting, and screaming at one another, they were a family. Lucifer had made sure they stood together for so long and hell would be damned if the mere presence of their father was going to change that fact. They were a family, and nothing was going to change that.

After a few minutes, Mammon left Asmodeous alone, both agreeing to never speak of that again. For their sakes and Lucifer’s. After entering his room, Mammon put his hands over his pool table, taking in everything that had just happened. He wasn’t aware of how long he stood there, starring at nowhere while simultaneously lost in his head. The only reason he snapped out of it was because his phone started ringing.

“What do ya want?” Mammon asked, not bothering to even check who was calling.

“Mammon! Right?” Mammon hummed as an answer. “We finally got a hold of you. Listen kid, the customer is still requesting your presence. They want it to be delivered tonight. You in?” Mammon sighed; he was not having any of it tonight.

“Yeah, listen here bud. Tell the costumer The Great Mammon isn’t interest in delivering no food.” He didn’t even wait for an answer before hanging up and throwing his phone over the bed, flopping in it and trying to fall asleep. Of course, that was interrupted by the phone once again. Mammon groaned. “Oi! I already told you I am not interested. Stop calling.”

“We understand, but the customer stated that in case you refused to deliver we reassured you that he would pay very handsomely.” Mammon sighed.

“How about this, why don’t ya take the order to the man, and you receive the pay, that way you can use that money to check yo damn ears cuz you ain’t listening to what I’m saying. I Ain’t Interested.” With that Mammon hanged up again, he got up from the bed and tried to sigh, but before he even did that the phone started ringing again. “Y’know what? I’m starting to get real mad-”

“Mammon.” That voice… “come now, no need to be so rude.” This time, the voice that came through the phone wasn’t the same. For a moment he couldn’t quite recognize the voice, then in clicked. “I only wish to see my son. Why are you denying me from that?” It was his father.

“You…you were the customer.” Mammon spoke in mild disbelief. He had been so tired and annoyed he didn’t even think of the possibility of his father messing with him. Yet, here he was. Even from the phone Mammon could tell his father had the most devilish grin the man could give. For a moment Mammon felt his head spin while the anticipation of hearing his father’s voice grew. Then, in a deep playful tone, almost gritted yet obviously unwelcome, his father spoke.

“Bingo.”

Aight! Chapter seven people! This one is bit different than the normal format of “God finds a brother alone and manipulates him.” In all honestly, this chapter was not meant to exist at all, i started it trying to write the chapter for the next brother but it turned into this. I still hope y’all like this one. Next chapter will be again fallow my usual format, and I’ll probably post it Wednesday. That is all for today, hope y’all had enjoyed it sweeties :3

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

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weeo · 5 years ago

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Rum is for fun and fucking

This is my (a bit late) response fic for episode 3. @peakyemergencyresponsefic

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x Alfie Solomons

Summary : “Well, rum is for fun and fucking” said once a certain Mr Solomons.

Gif Credits : This gif doesn’t belong to me. Credits to the creator @blakelivey

Warnings/Tags : NSFW, Alcohol, Drunken Flirting, Drunk Sex, Bar, Smut, Biting, Fluff, Smut and Fluff, Dom/Sub Undertones, Minor Spoilers for Season 5

Notes : Thank you so much to the lovely @tinypinetrees who still bears my attempts at writing! You have my undying love <3

AO3 link

The front door of the Garrison slams open, and a cane clicks on the floor, accompanied by quiet grunting noises.

He might be drunk, but Tommy doesn’t need to look up to know with absolute certainty, who has entered the pub.

“Evening, Alfie.” He says, one elbow leaning on the table as he stares at the golden liquid swirling in his glass. His fingers flutter nervously, shaking the alcohol.

“Yeah, it is. It is, in fact.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Tommy twisted his head, looking away to avoid eye contact.

“Your telegram was clear though, wasn’t it?” Alfie moves closer, standing next to Tommy’s table.

“Unlike yours...”

“Well, I’m not fucking surprised, you have no clue how to appreciate the sublime art that is metaphor, mate.” Alfie smiles, amused by his assumption.

Tommy still hasn’t looked up at him, he’s unable to. A strange feeling floats in the air when he ends up alone in a room with Alfie. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, or if he could, he wouldn’t admit it. Whenever the doors clicked shut behind them, his chair would suddenly become very uncomfortable. So much so that no position was pleasant anymore. As if the creaking chair was mocking his apparent weakness. Sneering at his every move.

It usually reaches its pitch when Alfie sits opposite of him and watches him intently.

And today is no exception.

Tommy can’t help but squirm in the chair. His cigarette case sits nearby on the table, begging him to take one.

“Shall you have a seat?” He snatches up the little metal case, fumbling with it to get a cigarette out, knocking a few onto the floor.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Alfie pulls the chair and sits, throwing his full weight on his cane and grunting slightly. “Metaphor is a really complex thing, mate. It draws unexpected lines between two unlike things.” He stays quiet a few seconds, as if to let Tommy process what he’s said, before continuing. “As far as I can tell, all that booze running through your veins is a great indication that the plants were indeed thirsty. I’m not much of a gardener myself, but I’m pretty sure you’re watering them with the wrong stuff, mate. Well, let’s face it, too much of a good thing drowns plants. Especially the pretty ones. Prevents them from breathing properly. And then, they suddenly start to die from the inside.” He says, stressing the last line with wide eyes and emphasizing every word with a low, quick tone. One filled with far-fetched gravity.

He leans forward slightly, seizing the champagne bottle and dragging it on the table, far enough away that Tommy couldn’t take it back.

“I thought you said you don’t touch it...” Tommy points out, unable to say anything else as he lights his cigarette.

Alfie stares at him, plainly ignoring his previous sentence as if he didn’t hear, or judged his comment too fucking stupid to deserve an answer. And as always, in his personal way, Alfie prefers to bluntly change of subject.

“I heard that you’re now a socialist. Saviour of the people and all. Funny that.” He stops for a few seconds, waiting to see if Tommy will respond, but keeps going when he doesn’t. “Even now as a socialist, your communist friend didn’t look so happy with you when she left the bar.”

“I guess she doesn’t appreciate metaphors either. Champagne bubbles aren’t socialist enough, apparently.” Tommy says, leaning back on his chair and trying to gain back some composure as he exhales smoke smoothly from his lips. Trying to maintain a confident gaze at Alfie.

“Yeah, socialism can come and go as quick as champagne bubbles.”

Tommy sniffs, well aware that Alfie is bluntly mocking him, and honestly it’s pretty fair.

“I have to develop different strategies to deal with politicians.” Tommy says, in an attempt to refocus the conversation on something he has control over.

“Well, it had been proven indeed, mate, that it’s harder to negotiate without a fucking grenade in his briefcase, innit?”

Tommy smirks slightly, but can’t help feeling off in the conversation. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol clouding his mind, or that sensation Alfie causes that he can’t pinpoint the origins of. He has nothing to reply. It shouldn’t be this complicated.

The words won’t align in his head. Unable to find an answer, he downs what’s left in his glass and drops it back on the table, slightly rougher than expected.

“You really can’t help it, mate, can you?”

“What?”

“Licking your lips like that after drinking. You can’t keep it in your pretty little mouth, can ya?”

He licks his lips again. He can’t help it. When he’s self-conscious about a habit, his body automatically does it. It’s an odd reaction, one that’s completely out of his control. His body just can’t help itself, as if its mission on Earth is to thwart Tommy at every given occasion. His tongue flickers out again, as an awkward feeling builds below his stomach.

As if it wasn’t already enough, he notices that his mouth is watering hard. It forces him to swallow thickly.

The intermittent wet sounds shatter the silence, slowly growing embarrassing. But he didn’t know how to make his body stop, how to prevent his shameful desire dripping from every inch of his skin. Alfie obviously noticed how bothered he was. Sure, he did. It’s discreet, but it’s also not the first time they’ve played these types of games. But usually, Tommy’s mind is more alert to find playful answers. He knows how to play, it’s just been… some time.

He has to say something. Anything.

“I’d like another drink.”

He can’t look Alfie in the eye. It’s the dullest thing he could have said after a provocation that blunt. But his thoughts float in a hazy cloud tonight and run together in an funny way.

He focuses his attention on crushing his cigarette, unable to look anything else.

Alfie is patiently quiet though, and waiting so long that Tommy thinks he’s made a fool of himself. Finally though, his eyebrows lift and he slowly pours champagne into the flute in front of him.

“You want it, Tommy?” Alfie asks, staring at him, and lifting the flute in the air.

He bends over, setting the glass on the floor, halfway between the two of them. Tommy wonders why he went to the trouble, especially given the pain that creases his face when he leans down. Other than his ordinary nature of being a fucking prick, he can’t think of anything.

“You can have it, but you’ll have to kneel on the floor for it, mate.”

And then Tommy understood. Alfie was really playing that game, again.

Suddenly, Tommy doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s moving. Balancing himself with the help of the table when he stands, heading towards the glass and stumbling as he sinks to his knees. He knows he’ll have bruises there tomorrow, from how hard he fell. He knows it was brutal, but his clouded mind thankfully eases the pain for now.

Surprising as it may seem, he’s truly aware how ridiculous and pitiful he’s looking. Such, at least, is how he’s picturing himself. Alfie’s stare tells another story, making his skin burn where his eyes had ventured.

“Go on, take a sip. Or is champagne not to your taste anymore? Now you’re too posh for that stuff, eh?”

Tommy takes the glass and sips at it, never leaving his eyes. He then licks the drops of champagne that remained on his lips.

“I would have preferred rum.” Tommy whispers defiantly, not realizing the full extent of his phrasing.

Alfie stands abruptly and grabs Tommy’s chin in one hand. His thumb brushes over Tommy’s lower lip, parting it at the touch.

He’s staring intently at Alfie, watching as he towers over him with his dense muscular figure.

“Careful treacle, you’re saying dangerous things.”

Alfie slowly slithers his thumb inside Tommy’s mouth, trailing it over his tongue. His eyes fixating on what’s happening between his wet lips as he slides his thumb off it. He moistens Tommy’s lower lip first, smearing over his upper lip as his thumb moves.

“I now have to adore dangerous.” Tommy says, looking up with a cheeky look.

As Alfie slides his thumb back in his parted lips, Tommy turns his tongue languidly around it.

Hastily lifted by his chin, Tommy is forced to his feet. He lurches slightly, but an arm tightens firmly around his waist. Champagne spills down Tommy’s right hand and sleeve, dripping down and covering him at the unexpected rough movement.

The glass follows quickly, shattering into a million little pieces in a crystal clear sound as Tommy’s arms wrap around Alfie’s neck, and before he even realizes, they’re kissing. Roughly. It’s a crash of clashing teeth, slamming foreheads and ungraceful breaths. Alfie’s hands are rubbing down his sides and trail subtly towards his bum. Grabbing him with far less finesse.

As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already, when Alfie slips his tongue in his mouth, a slight broken moan escapes him. Their tongues caress each other sweetly at first, licking and twisting together. They appreciate the smoothness of their intimacy, as if everything in the world felt in place for once. But it’s not enough for Tommy, his need for release is growing second by second. He’s craving to be touched, elsewhere. These thoughts invade him with heat and urge him to provoke some sort of reaction.

He does the first thing that comes to mind and harshly bites Alfie’s bottom lip.

Alfie pulls away. His words are choked in his throat, but the tornado of lust twirls again in his eyes.

Alfie kisses him again, hot and slick, as their tongues melt together and he pushes him until Tommy’s back crashes onto the counter. Alfie’s coat is discarded along the way, as well as Tommy’s waistcoat.

Tommy unbuttons his sleeves clumsily as Alfie tackles the middle of the shirt, still kissing sloppily.

Alfie is a man who prefers concentrating on one thing at a time, and unbuttoning a shirt is a bothersome task preventing him from savoring their kiss. Especially because what he wants right now is to trail his hands on the skin below.

Half-way through, he loses patience and gives up, and pulls on each side of his shirt, ripping the remaining buttoned knobs off their seams.

Fucking bastard, Tommy thinks, listening as the small buttons roll noisily across the wooden floor.

“You don’t need this now anyway” Alfie remarks, pulling away from the kiss.

Alfie pauses, now impossibly obsessed by the idea of destroying Tommy’s neat little look. Wanting nothing but to wreck his posh clothes and ruin the hair he took so long to comb. And as far as he had seen, the opposite is very appealing. He’d choose this dishevelled mess of swollen lips, flushed cheeks and curls falling on his eyes, over that smug, posh little rat he feels like slapping across the face. Which, after reflection, has its merits too… in a way.

Alfie presses himself against Tommy, trapping him between his body and the counter. He pushes his thigh between Tommy’s legs, high enough to make an oppressively hot pitfall in his lover’s tight pants.

Tommy concentrates hard to avoid doing anything humiliating again, but his mind is fuzzy and it’s hard to keep track. He has no clue, if this annoyance is due to his apparent drunkenness or that frustrating coming from below his stomach and spreading through his whole body. Both, probably.

Already half-hard from the pressure, Tommy arches his hips, grinding on Alfie's thigh. And fuck… it feels good.

Alfie watches him whimper in desperation. An amused grin decorating the corner of his lips.

“How sweet, you’re a needy little thing. Trying to fluster me, are ya?” Alfie asks, grabbing Tommy’s right wrist and dragging his flat palm over his delicious lips.

“Well now, show me how much you want all of this. Use that nice little tongue you can’t seem to keep in that pretty mouth, alright?”

Tommy hesitates, not sure how much he’s keen on obeying tonight. He isn’t disgusted by the idea. It even sounds appealing. It’s just usually not in his nature to listen. His instincts call for the opposite. To defiantly ignore the order. Just because he can. Just because he wants to see how far he can push Alfie, before he loses it.

They’re playing that game and he knows it.

So, he looks at Alfie, puzzled and jaw clenched, as if he didn’t understand what he asked.

“Two seconds ago, you couldn’t keep that pretty little tongue of yours in your fucking mouth and well, now, for no fucking reasons, it magically wants to stay inside.” Fixated on his eyes, Alfie’s look is stern, as his irritation overflows, creasing in his frowning eyebrows. Alfie’s thigh loosens in a subtle punishment and Tommy chokes a frustrated whine.

It’s hard to admit, even to his own conscience, but Tommy’s cock becomes impossibly thicker at the sole idea of Alfie making him do it. Of making him do things. And a hint of it must show on his face, giving it away, because Alfie slides his other hand on the back of his lover’s head and bends it slowly forward, until Tommy can’t get any closer.

“Use. Your. Fucking. Tongue.” Alfie commands with that sharp tone he purposely uses as a last resort, frustration echoing through his words.

This tone is generally the breaking point. The moment when Tommy gets too worked up to keep fighting his desires and can’t help himself, except to do as he’s told.

So, Tommy succumbs to Alfie’s order. He licks teasingly slowly over the palm of his captive hand. The little curls partly draping Tommy’s defiant stare, make the hot and wet trail even more exciting.

Alfie’s grip on his wrist tightens, as a spike of arousal hits him and makes his cock twitch in his pants at the delightful sight. He leads Tommy’s hand, soaked and slick, to his neglected cock.

Tommy shakes the grip off his wrist, shoving his hand in Alfie’s underwear without undoing his pants and encircling his fist around his cock. Alfie’s head falls backwards, and his eyes shut of pleasure as Tommy gently rubs the precome with his thumb.

Tommy starts to stroke him with torturously restrained moves and quickly accelerates the pace when Alfie eagerly opens his pants.

“You’re doing that so beautifully sweetheart, just as if it was the only thing you do every day, all day long.” Alfie murmurs, leaning to say naughty words in his ear, pushing his thigh onto Tommy’s erection again.

Tommy bends his head forward into Alfie’s neck, strangling a loud, embarrassing groan. He brushes his lips lightly up and back along Alfie’s collar, panting on the skin as he grinds against Alfie’s thigh. Alfie can’t bear the overwhelming heat creeping over his body. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and drops it on the floor. Tommy occasionally kisses and nibbles the skin on his path, and gently strokes Alfie’s cock with smooth movements, slowly twisting around until he reaches the tip and applying pressure in just the right spot.

A sudden flash of pleasure arcs through Tommy as Alfie angles his thigh slightly. Tommy bites hard right above the collarbone to stop himself from moaning, clinging on him with the arm that doesn’t soothe Alfie’s cock.

Alfie growls from the back of his throat. He knows he won’t be able to last much longer like that.

“You silly boy. Do you want to be fucked? That’s what you want, eh?” He slaps Tommy’s hand, grasping his wrist to take it off his cock.

Heat floods through Tommy’s limbs, and he hums something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.

“I didn’t hear that, put some effort into it.”

“Yes…”

“Yes, what ?”

“Fuck off.”

The pressure on Tommy’s cock loosens again, though he keeps thrusting into the air, looking for any kind of friction.

“Stop whining like a little girl. Just say it.”

Tommy hesitates, just to see if he can avoid what he knows is his fate.

“Please” Tommy whispers so softly, that Alfie barely catches it.

He isn’t entirely satisfied by this answer, but these are troubles for another time. The words were quiet, but no less delicious to hear.

Alfie turns him around suddenly, pressing closer and allowing their skin to touch.

“You’re not as bad as I thought when it comes to finding a good metaphor. The rum thing, it was nice that one.” Alfie whispers in his ear.

He lays his palm flat over the small of his back and pushes.

Tommy stretches his arms on the counter in front of him, starting to bend slowly. Alfie grabs his jaw with his other hand and pushes his head against the counter. He wasn’t rough enough to hurt him, but he wasn’t gentle either.

“You, don’t move an inch.” Alfie says, releasing his jaw and pointing his finger at him, stating with absolute clarity that it’s non-negotiable.

He moves away from Tommy, grabbing his discarded coat and taking out a little bottle of oil. When he bends down to pick up the cloth, he bites down his tongue to stop himself from making any noise. His face creases in agony, his traitorous body making every line stark and pained. There aren’t many things that trouble Alfie Solomons, but being seen as an old man is something he’s not yet ready for.

Tommy stays still, watchful and curious as Alfie moves. He’s cold. His limbs miss the heat and comforting frame of Alfie’s body.

“You have oil!?” His lips rub against the counter as he talks.

Back behind him, Alfie undoes Tommy’s trousers, tugging them down unceremoniously. Just enough to let his arching ass shows, but not sufficiently to be completely freed. He stops right under his ass to make it slightly uncomfortable when Tommy will want to spread his legs further. Picturing the bastard struggling already arousing Alfie far too much for his own good.

“Shall I remind you that I’m a fucking sodomite, mate?” Alfie grins, as he’s splaying oil on his fingers. “If it wasn’t you tonight, I would have found someone.”

Tommy can’t help but feel a bit disappointed to hear the truth, and he knows he shouldn’t because, what was he thinking, really?

Alfie notices his gaze going blank and bends just above him, lying over his back.

“After meetings with you, I need to clear my head from all these distracting thoughts you put in it.” He whispers in his ear, pushing a finger in at his last words. And, holy fuck… Tommy’s breath hitches at the touch.

Alfie stays still, unmoving. And it lasts, and lasts until Tommy can’t bear the frustration and whines without even trying to hide it.

“You’re so pretty when you whine” Alfie comments, pitching his words as if they were the most normal thing in the world to say.

“I’m not… ‘whining’.” Tommy tries to argue, his usual disdain for anything that could show even the slightest hint of his lack of control.

Tommy attempts to spread his legs, looking for any way to widen them further, even poorly. But he’s restrained by the pants hanging on his thighs. It forces another whine out of him, proving Alfie’s point without trying to.

“Yeah treacle, just like that. So pretty.” Alfie praises him, petting his sides.

Even if he has his standards and expectations, Alfie is mostly here to please, so he straightens and gets on with it, slowly sliding his finger in and out. The movements force Tommy to gasp against the counter and damn… it’s a lovely view.

“You’re such a sight, Tommy. If only you could see yourself right now…”

Tommy grips the edge of the bar next to his head, choking on his hard pants as his knuckles whiten. Alfie presses between his shoulder blades, shoving him higher onto the counter. He is already falling apart around his finger and Alfie wants to see more. He inserts a second finger inside him in one sitting. Tommy gasps even louder than the first time, probably unconscious of all the noises he’s making. One hand would already reaching to cover his mouth, if he noticed how loud he is right at this fucking instant.

Tommy lips part, linked by a thin dribble of saliva. Frustrated by all this stillness, he starts to reach for his cock.

Alfie tuts disapprovingly at the movement.

“Did you hear me say you could?” Alfie asks, amused by how desperate Tommy is. “I funnily can’t recall.”

He grabs Tommy’s wrist and pins it on the counter. He grips the other in the same hand, holding Tommy down.

“I bet you’ll be more compliant like that, eh?”

Tommy swallows hard, the frustration being more and more bothersome in his tight pants. His cock aches to be touched.

He’s gasping for breath, as Alfie starts to finally move his fingers. Opening him up just the way he wants him to. Thrusting and thrusting until Tommy is embarrassingly loud, and panting so hard that he’s out of breath.

Alfie lets go of his hands and pulls on Tommy’s hair to tilt his head. Eager to see his face twisted by all the pleasure.

Alfie moves closer to his ear, whispering, “Since you graced my ears with such exquisite noises, moaning so beautifully like the good boy you are, I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”

He adds another finger, feeling that Tommy could take it easily.

Tommy moans, looking away, lost in a storm of contentment.

“Did you hear me?” Alfie asks, shaking him. His grip tightens over his hair, roughly shoving his head as his fingers inside stop moving.

“We’re too far away…”

“I didn’t ask you to mumble facts, but to tell me what you want, alright?” Alfie replies dryly, pulling his fingers away.

Tommy’s shifty eyes begin to irritate him. He pulls his hair a bit harsher, making Tommy clench his jaw, and says with a strict tone, “Fucking look me in the eyes when you talk.”

Tommy huffs. He turns his gaze and dives in Alfie’s stare.

“...I want you, face to face….. and closer.” Tommy says quietly, forcing himself to keep eye-contact, even though the only thing he feels like doing is looking away with embarrassment.

“Fucking hell. You look even more divine when you comply so willingly, sweetie.” He praises, letting his hand that gripped his hair slide down Tommy’s neck, stroking slowly.

Alfie pulls him up and turns him around again, kissing him hungrily and tasting the flavors they didn’t take the time to savour earlier. They both grab the others face in two hands, pressing each other even closer. Always closer. As if it wouldn’t hurt at some point.

Alfie moves backwards, drawing Tommy with him without stopping the kiss. They quickly cross the pub, stepping on broken glass and nearly slipping on their discarded clothes. Alfie turns them around before they reach the bench seat and shoves Tommy on it. They both kick their shoes and socks off in quick moves and Alfie pulls on Tommy’s trousers and underwear to make them glide off his legs. He takes the rest of his own clothes off before lying down over top of him.

They’re already panting in each other’s mouths, kissing again, tongues swirling together. Both eager for more. Alfie opens the bottle of oil he took care to remove from his trousers and Tommy spreads his legs wider, arching to let Alfie in.

Alfie hums in anticipation, smearing oil on his cock.

“So nice and ready, just for me…” Alfie says, penetrating Tommy slowly. He stays there without moving, letting Tommy become accommodated. But arousal floods through every part of his body and the more time passes, the less he can restrain himself from thrusting slightly inside Tommy. He wants to fuck him until he can’t see straight ever again.

As a reference to the word that he found so hard to say earlier, Tommy stares into Alfie’s eyes and whispers distinctly, “Please.”

Fuck. He can’t resist that. His cock aches from all the pent up desire and he thrusts into Tommy gently, worshipping every noise he makes.

Tommy pins Alfie to his chest, enclosing him with his arms and snuggling his head in his neck. Alfie tries to detach gently to catch his gaze, but Tommy hugs him tighter against him and wraps his legs around his waist. The feeling of his skin against his, drops him into a state of ecstasy, leveraging the effects of Alfie’s thrusts.

Alfie doesn’t have the courage to try to move away again. He starts to enjoy being pressed like that, and Tommy’s moans are delightful. It would feel like denying him his orgasm to pull away. And as enjoyable as it would be, right now, the only thing he wants to see is this powerful man crumbling under his touch. This powerful man that just wants to be held. Close.

His growls mingle with Tommy’s moans at every thrust and Alfie is quickly whipped into an excited frenzy.

He lays a hand behind Tommy’s neck and pulls him closer against him. The feeling is nearly too much. Tommy’s breathing skips a beat and transforms in short ragged breath, inciting Alfie to pound deeper into him.

He’s so close. Alfie can feel Tommy’s muscles tensing around him and tries to gather every ounce of remaining will to hold his release back.

“You still want to fuck into your tiny pretty fist, right?” Alfie whispers.

Tommy nods fiercely against his neck.

“Then, go on sweetheart.”

Tommy trails his right hand down his body, releasing a bit of Alfie’s neck. He wraps his hand around his cock, grasping himself roughly, seeking his release. He’s closer with every thrust, his teeth gritting and sweat pouring down his forehead. It doesn’t take long before he’s hit by an intense wave of pleasure.

Overwhelmed by the orgasm flooding him, Tommy groans deeply as Alfie fucks him through it. He comes all over his stomach, clinging tightly to Alfie, as small whines escaping, and Alfie just needs a few thrusts more before he’s thrown into his own pleasure.

Alfie collapses onto Tommy’s neck, panting breath puff into each other’s necks.

Alfie raises his head. The whole place looks like a mess. Less of a mess than Tommy Shelby, who’s shuddering beneath him, it goes without saying, but still.

He rolls on his side and snuggles against Tommy’s back, embracing his waist. He caresses his skin softly with his face. Tommy takes one of Alfie’s hands on his waist and tucks it in his own.

Alfie usually loves to talk, but he's learned that, sometimes, it’s better to keep silent and just take the moment offered to you. Especially if one Tommy Shelby finds the courage to hold hands.

But, this doesn’t stop him thinking that all of this happened, because Tommy Shelby couldn’t keep his fucking tongue in his mouth.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders s5 #peaky blinders spoilers #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x alfie solomons #tommy x alfie #alfie solomons #tofie #shelomons #writing #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky emergency response challenge #episode 3 #drunk tommy #masterlist

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boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Bride

Word Count: 7700+

Summary: A power hungry woman finds herself suddenly having feelings beyond the professional for another gangster while engaged to another man. She decides to form a plan to secure her and her husbands rival, Alfie Solomons', place in the underground of London. She doesn't tell Alfie of her plan to get them everything they could want until her wedding day to his rival. How will he react when she confesses it's been for them the entire time? A fun, smutty little one shot.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Explicit Sexual Content: Dominant Alfie. Dom/Sub undertones. Dirty Talk. Getting off on being bad. Some angst, some fluff.

Click on my screen name, then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio on my blog page for my other works. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

It was your wedding day. By all usual circumstances, this should’ve meant it was the happiest day of your life and it wasn’t that you were unhappy. It was just the source of your happiness for the occasion was rather, well, unusual.

You were the picture of a blushing bride, but that was all a facade. You just happened to be very good at pretending to be things you weren’t. Your dress was perfect, your quaint Christian ceremony and lavish reception thanks to your wealthy husband was all a more simple and sane woman could’ve wanted. But you didn’t believe yourself to be either of those things.

You could blame your upbringing, your absent father, your troubled mother who was now wasting away in a sanitarium. But you knew what evil you did. You felt compulsory in your deviant behavior at times, yes, but you were always in control of it.

Growing up with a mentally ill mother and a father that only showed up in the middle of the night, pissed and high on gambling earnings with a birthday present that was 6 months too late had caused you to have to form a lot of layers to protect yourself from the world. With no money, you had to work early in your life. You soon found that money by any legal means was not enough. So you turned to crime. It was simple at first, petty theft and learning to manipulate men. But this set the tone for how you would end up where you were today. A gangsters wife.

Mind you, this wasn’t the first gangster to have proposed to you. You had made your way through them and too easily so. Once one had you, with a simple glance another wanted to steal you away. So you’d made your way up the ladder and here you were. But not for long. Not if your intention to kill your husband went to plan.

You had been rather selfish for most of your adult life, as growing up and fending for yourself can sometimes make you. You were always looking out for number one. Which was always you. With your air of confidence, your wild card behavior, and now your business mindedness as your ownership of a warehouse with a yard by the canal had made you of high interest to smuggling gangsters getting their alcohol to America during the prohibition. You were willing to work with them and with you being a woman, the police simply didn’t suspect you.

This was how you’d met the man that was on your mind on your wedding day, Alfie Solomons. And he was not your husband. He had offered to be at one point and even though it was nowhere near the first time you’d been proposed to it was your favorite out of them all. You had found yourself in a bit of trouble with a rival gang of the Jews. As you went to Alfie for a chat about your problem, as he was the smartest and most clever man you knew, still was, he rather clumsily offered to marry you to protect you. You were surprised. You hadn’t taken Solomons to be the sentimental sort but as your devious self found his eyes soft, his posture unguarded you pried into him with questions. He admitted to having a rather unusual stirring of feelings for you. He admitted he wasn’t happy about it, as these things, these emotions of the heart as he’d put it, they complicate things. And looking back at that moment, you saw things from your time spent together that made sense in a different light than they had. He had favored you over other criminals but in your ego, which was large, you had assumed he knew which side to play for and the best one was yours.

You tell him you’ll think about it. And having never been married up to that point, you needed time to consider all your options for how to deal with your problems. As marriage wasn’t a temporary thing that was easy to get out of. That was unless your husband died.

In a bold meeting with the gangster than you now called your husband, the biggest rival and enemy to Solomons it turned out, you had thrown your cards out on the table, metaphorically, and also yourself at him. With your physical ability, mental capability and emotional control you found the man wrapped around your finger very quickly. He proposed and you did hesitate.

You went to Alfie, told him of the proposition, as you hadn’t yet given him an answer. And that answer was no. You tell him you’re going to marry the other man. He’s furious, even though he tries to hide it. He expresses a softness towards you, something he does not do and you respond to his offer to help you by marrying the man that was an enemy to you both? You saw him pace his office, that handsome and heavy brow low over the eyes that could cut right through you. His plush mouth tight, that silver tongue rubbing over his teeth in thought. He stares at you and neither of you backs down. It wasn’t in either of your natures. As he gives in first with a heavy sigh, he gestures his hand towards the door for you to leave, and you set in motion a plan.

No man had ever interested you much. Not in any meaningful capacity anyway. Some were excellent fucks, some were funny, but none made you feel anything. That night in his office as he fearlessly faced you, never breaking as you hurt him emotionally, you felt something stir inside you. You were used to men reacting when you did these sorts of things. They’d scream or they’d throw things, grab you or try to kill you. He did nothing except stare into you, then let you go. In your experience men weren’t always capable of letting things go. When they felt hurt for whatever reason they lashed out and lost control. You’d never turned down a proposal and come out unscathed. But Alfie stayed cool. He let you go. He didn’t threaten you or his enemy. And ever since that night you had been planning on thanking him by killing his rival and your now husband. You’d have his money, his real estate and without his leadership, for what it was worth, his men would fall apart. This was your plan to take him down. And so far it was going swimmingly.

You sent a bipartisan messenger boy to Alfie, with the request for him to be at a small work shed on the grounds of where you were having your wedding. The boy that came back had no response, saying that the man had looked at it most curiously and sent him away. You didn’t know if he’d be there but you were setting into motion the plans to find out.

After a round of spinning and dancing, you see the sun setting through the windows of the grand hall your reception was being held in. You find your husband and with your usual feminine touch, you sigh and tell him the festivities are just a little too much and if he didn’t mind, might you have a lie down for a moment and eat something so you could recuperate from your excitement. He, of course, agrees, as he did with most things you said.

Skipping away to the dressing room you’d gotten ready in, you lock the door behind you. You open the window and gather your dress, sneaking out into the bushes. Under the cover of a darkening sky, you move through the decorative flora of the gardens and towards the work shed.

You look from around a large manicured bush, seeing Alfie in his usual daunting hat, dark suit, and cane. He has another man with him, and you couldn’t blame him, he had no clue what he was walking into. You sigh and smile, knowing he was smart but was willing to let his curiosity get the better of him. And you could appreciate that sort of combination. A cautiously open mind.

You emerge from behind the plant, your dress gathered in your hands to keep it from the dirt. The hand of the man behind him goes to his gun. Alfie does not flinch.

“What are you doin' 'ere? I’m busy. Shouldn’t you be off show boatin' about with your new husband? Right twat he is.” He declares angrily, a brow quirked and looking away from your wide eyes as you approach him.

“I’m the one who invited you, silly.” you reply with a soft laugh.

“You?”

“Yes.” You state obviously. “Why else’s would I be here at the advertised time? Wouldn’t I be at my reception with my twat husband?” You give him the same attitude filled face back.

His eyes narrow and he looks You up and down. “Trouble in paradise already eh? Can’t say I’m surprised” he snarks.

“On the contrary, today has gone to plan so far.” You give a casual shrug.

“So my bein' here is part of your plan?”

“A very big part.” you speak slowly and purposely.

He was highly intrigued, trying to not be distracted by how lovely you looked in the dress. “And what’s that then?" he demands.

“Could we speak inside?” You ask, walking towards the small isolated brick sheds faded green painted wooden door. “I’d rather not be seen with you out here.”

“With ya husbands enemy on your wedding day...I’d certainly say not.” He nods to the other man who hides and waits outside. He shuts the door behind him, the space small and all but one wall covered in hanging and propped up gardening equipment.

“Ya bring me here to kill me? A wedding present for your husband?” He rolls his eyes.

“No. The opposite really.” You say with a mischievous smile.

“Ya gonna help me live then?” He snorts out a laugh.

“Actually yes.” you grin.

“I know ya love your codes and like to think yourself to be mysterious but I don’t have the patience today and shouldn’t you be getting back to your, I'm certain, very expensive party?” he shakes his head with judgment clear on his face.

“No hurry for me. I told him the excitement from the festivities was getting to me and I needed a little lie-down.” A more wicked smile appears.

“And he believed that?” He lets out a short laugh.

“He believes anything I say.”

“Then he doesn’t know you at all does he?”

“No he does not.” You state plainly and Alfie's interest is rising, you can tell. “Not the real me. Not like you do Alfie.”

“Me? I’ve not spoken or done business with you in months. What do I know?” the anger breaks through in his voice.

“Doesn’t matter if we haven't seen each other, does it? I would bet that I’ve been on your mind as much as you’ve been on mine.” the coo in your voice frustrates him and reacts accordingly.

“What’s to say none?” he tilts his head and presses his lips together defiantly.

“Oh, Alfie. You don’t have to lie. It’s just us here." he hears you tease.

“Why would I lie?” he barks back.

“Because I hurt your feelings. And no one hurts Alfie Solomons feelings, do they?” you give him a little pout.

“No they do not. Not even you.” his chin wags as he sells his point.

“Again with the lying Alfie.” you scold. “I brought you here tonight to end the lies between us.” you roll your eyes and sigh.

“I ain’t lyin'. You made your choice 'n there was fuck all I could do about it, yeah? So I showed you the fuckin door dinnit I?” his posture is stiff and you can tell he's set to defend himself still.

“But not before you stared at me for a few minutes.” You smirk.

“I was trying to read you. See if there was somethin' there behind your eyes. I was wrong.” his eyes are cold to you now.

“You’re wrong about that. You did see something.” your voice is soft to offset his anger.

“What?” He asks more angrily.

“Me.” You say simply, stepping closer. “You saw me.”

“You were standin' right fuckin there." he gestures to the floor with his hand.

“Let your guard down for a fucking second Alfie, Jesus Christ. You’re so god damned stubborn sometimes.” you say with your lips in a tense line. “If I felt it I know you had to feel it. You looked into me that night. You didn’t look AT me. You looked into me, studied me like no one had before.” your voice gives away your honesty and he's confused by it.

He lets out a sigh and looks away. “Feel what?”

“That connection. That spark between us.” you lean closer to invade his space, make him face you.

He lets out a condescending laugh. “You think you’re gonna try 'n seduce me on the day of your marriage to another man? My enemy? Are you daft? If you’d wanted a fuck love you just had to ask, or accept my proposal. But ya didn’t. So you and ya husband can fuck off. You’re on their side now. Why the fuck did you call me here?”

“To tell you you’re wrong.” you state assuredly.

“Not many have the balls to do that mind you.” he points a finger in your face.

“Have you ever known me to be short on them?” You put your hands on your hips.

“No.”

“Then will you stop your defensive whingin' and let me answer you?” your voice rises.

He doesn’t say a word, he clasps his hands in front of him.

“That night. When you looked at me I felt something.” You nod earnestly. “And men don’t make me feel things Alfie. But you aren’t like most men are you?”

“I’d bloody hope not.” he answers with an exasperated tone.

“You’re not. You’re smart and clever and despite your reputation, when you go off the cuff I believe you to know exactly what you’re doing. You control your emotions. And no men I’ve ever met have controlled themselves the way you do. You are a rare one Alfie.”

“But you married that dimwitted cunt instead? You’re making all the sense in the world mate.” he rolls his eyes and sighs again.

“I married him for you.” You say more seriously.

“And how the fuck does that work?” he almost laughs.

“Because I married him so I could kill him. Something you couldn't get away with.” you bite back.

This grabs his attention. “And what the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“I knew that night when I told you no, that I would be killing him. As an apology to you. I can take his money, his real estate, and his businesses down. I can delete him from history and you can have it all.”

He looks You over inquisitively. “What are you on about?”

“I don’t want him. I want you. But I can’t let a man threaten me and get away with it. So I plan on killing him and taking everything.” he see's the passion in your eyes.

“Sounds like that benefits you more than me." he nods his head at you.

“Not if I marry you.” You state with pouted lips.

He narrows his eyes and tries to decide if he trusts you or not. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I see a great deal of potential in you. I like how you do business and I like you.” you answer earnestly.

“Oh, now you like me eh? You should work on ya fuckin' timin' there.” he wags his finger at you again.

“I do. I have ever since that night. But more importantly, we both hate my husband.”

“I do hate the fucker.”

“And I’ve had to be with him while thinking of you. So, believe me, I hate him more than you for what I’ve dealt with these past months." you spit out.

“I might believe that.” he side eyes you.

“I can have financial safety for myself if I kill him. I can offer the demolishing of your biggest competition. You can take over the businesses that will be in my name. I believe we could be a true force to be reckoned with.” you look away almost bashfully at your confession.

“But why love?” his voice softens slightly.

“I’ve stated my reasons and you're only looking for excuses to not believe me now.” You say defiantly and he grins. “I like you. As a person and a businessman. I want to help you. And I saw that I hurt you when I said no. And I know you put yourself out there by asking me to marry you and confessing you had feelings for me and I’m trying to repay the favor by doing something you can’t.” your voice is quiet but sincere.

“I could kill him if I wanted to." he scrunches his face in defense of himself.

“Yes, but not get away with it. Not and also get his money and businesses. Not make his dim-witted men fall apart in their functioning. You’d get thrown in jail, I won’t.” you lean in closely to speak softly to him to use your charms against him.

“What makes you so sure you'll get away with it?” he gives you a stern nod of his chin.

“Slow poison and good acting.” You say confidently.

“That’s your plan?” he responds flatly.

“Yes. I’ll have exclusive access to him, his doctors, his records. And I can play the heartbroken wife and you get to sit back and watch him wither to nothing and know the truth.”

“Why not end him with violent means? Quick. Dirty.” his brow lowers over his darkening eyes.

“Because it’s obvious. Don’t go thinking like a man now.” you flash him a charming smile. “We must be patient and our patience will be rewarded.”

“I’m not known for me patience.” he shakes his head.

“Especially when it comes to something you want?” you smirk.

“Especially that." he nods.

“And do you want me Alfie? Your biggest enemy’s wife? The woman who is offering to help you conquer London?” you ask, your eyes narrowed and voice delicate as you lean in towards his face.

“I do.” he answers simply.

“And I want you.” You whisper. “And although I capable of patience, when it comes to things I want, I do prefer immediate satisfaction over delayed.” a playful smile grows across your face.

“And what does that mean for me?” he stares down at you, watching you glance down to his lips.

“Would you like to fuck him over before I even begin to poison him?” you offer, a tilt of your head and a wicked smile.

“How?” his voice rumbles.

“By fucking me.” you state clearly. His eyes go dark, heavy under his low brow as you touch his chest to yours. “You could know you had me before he did on our wedding day. Know that tonight he’ll be second to you physically and mentally all the nights thereafter. I’ll feel the pleasurable sting of you instead of him, think about you while he thinks he’s consummating our marriage. But I’ve already consummated the real relationship haven’t I?” you rasp up at him, feeling a tingle down your spine as you see his eyes dilate.

“You wicked thing.” he scolds.

“You have no idea.” You grin. “And to take me in my wedding dress nonetheless. The one he bought me? I have to admit my astounding naughtiness is making me wet already Alfie.” you give a wrinkle of your nose as a small laugh escapes you.

“And how do I know that’s not a lie?” he quirks a brow at you.

You slowly pull up the front of your skirt. “You’re welcome to feel for yourself.” you purr.

His eyes cut down to your bare thighs, peaking out under the dress. White stockings squeezing your thighs just so.

“Or I could show you? If you still don’t trust me?” You say innocently.

“Show me.” he gruffs out.

“You reach between your legs where you feel the cool air hitting the slick that followed your devious plans discussion. You’d been thinking about fucking Alfie for most of the day and all this other talk had built the tension within you. You take the wetness to your fingertips and show him with shifting fingers the clinging viscous liquid. You reach them out and touch them to his soft and full lips you’d wanted to feel on you. “You can taste what my impure thoughts of you today have brought forth in me.” You whisper. “I am as sweet as revenge, Mr. Solomons. I promise you that.” You speak certainly and he feels his own need bubbinlig up to the surface.

He opens his mouth and your fingertips enter his mouth and your lashes flutter, his eyes stay on your face. He sees your chest rise and fall noticeably, your face flushing, and the way your eyes went dark as he licks away at them.

“And this is my doin'?” He questions, holding your wrist with authority and a thrill rushes through you.

“Truly. This cunt is as good as yours.” You whisper and he exhales forcefully, a hand moving to the back of your neck with a firm grip.

“And what of this mind?” He rasps into your ear and he feels you tremble. He knew then it wasn't a lie.

“It thinks of you most often. It devised this plan to make you ours.” your voice breaks in your nervousness for his forcefullness.

“And of your heart?” he drags his nose up your neck to your jaw.

“No man has ever owned it before. But I believe you are the only one to ever make me question that fact.” You admit.

That was truly an honest answer. And he felt it as your skin broke out in goosebumps at his touch. If you’d been playing him you would’ve said everything was his, that he owned it all. But you hadn’t. So he allows himself to believe it.

“And right now, I can make this cunt mine?” his voice demanding and quiet.

“Yes. And the rest will be yours solely soon after.” you almost squeak out.

“And you’re going to kill him? For me?” his intensity washes over you.

“For us.” The answer makes him groan.

“And you want me to take you in your wedding dress in a dirty shed as you lie about your whereabouts on your wedding day?” his voice is almost a growl.

“I do.” You moan.

“Is that what you said to him today?” He smirks.

“And to you is the only time I meant it.” you shake your head.

“You are fuckin' filthy.” He scolds I’m a deep tone. “And I adore it.” He snarls, showing his dominance and holding you tightly by the face.

“Would you give me my favorite wedding gift then Alfie? Give me you for just a short while?”

“I will love.” He whispers, lips close to yours. “I’ll fuck you so well you’ll be left thinkin' 'bout me all those nights you’ll be left disappointed in him. You’ll crave it, sweetheart, you’ll want to risk being found out by sneakin' away in the middle of the night for it.” he coos.

“Those are big promises Alfie. You have the tools to back up that dominating sentiment?” You ask, reaching down to his trousers and finding him growing hard.

He lets his cane hit the ground and with one hand roughly undoing his trousers, holding your face so you could not see him, but putting your hand around him. “Why is it you think I’m not like other men love? It’s not just me brain.” He rasps, eyes looking over your face as you breathily exhale, finding him thick and long. You hadn’t been with many men that would be described as large, as most men that sought out power were compensating for something deep down. But when you say that he was the biggest you’d ever felt, it certainly didn’t mean nothing.

“You have no reason to try to make up for any lacking in this department do you?” You say with a huff of a laugh, that showed you were impressed. “When other men were worried about compensating you were busy using that big... brain of yours to beat them. You don’t have the typical shortcomings of a man in your position.” You elaborate and a slow smile moves across his face.

“Brilliant little bird. So observant aren’t you?” He coos, loving that you knew people on a level that he did, understood their deep dark motivations. “You still want me to fuck you love? Surely your husband is only going to be less than for you now.”

“I do still want it. But do you know how to use it?” You smirk.

“Do I know-?” He lets out a deep laugh that appreciates the taunt. “How 'bout I just show you love?”

“Please.” You whisper and shut your eyes for a moment, hands tugging him.

“Oh, she asks me nicely now eh? Dirty girl.” He growls, hands moving fast to your waist and pushing you against an uncluttered spot on a wall where you would be hidden from sight. He looms over you, lips grazing your cheeks, nose, and lips teasingly. “And how am I going to get at your delicious little body without making a mess of this dress?” He asks.

“Let me.” You say breathily, reaching and undoing the buttons at the neck of the gown. The large keyhole back stays clasped below your waist, but you bare yourself to him by sliding your arms out of the top and pulling it down.

“Much more obedient than I expected” He taunts.

“It takes a certain sort of strong man to make a powerful woman want to bend, doesn't it?” You admit, now bare to him as he licks his lips and looks over your breasts. “I’m not like this with anyone else. I don’t like men being dominating. But most are so boring about it.” you quickly explain.

He puts his hand around your throat loosely and you hear his heavy breathing in your ear. “This racing pulse of yours I feel under my palm would say otherwise.” His slides his hand over your chest, rough palms grazing over your nipples and making them stand at attention, causing you to release a small whimper. “These pert tits say you like it. Shall we see what your cunt has to say about it?” He asks as his fingertips trail up your thigh and shove between your legs, wet and soft and eager. “This little cunny fuckin loves it, dunnit she?” The words travel over your skin and break it out into goosebumps. He pushes into your folds and finds your clit, a task you sometimes wondered if men were capable of at all. Your knees buckle for a moment as he grazes and strokes. You let out a little moan and he teases your lips with his again. “That little mouth tells me you love it as well. I thought the lies were over between us?”

“They are” you whine as his circles your clit. “I like it when you do it.” You moan. “You’ve proven to me you deserve it.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, lips grazing your neck. He begins to kiss your skin, fingers still working away at you. His lips move slowly across your breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking away at you with a grunt of pleasure as his face pushes into the weight of it. He does this on the other side and releases you with an obscene pop. His nose moves up your sternum as your chest moves faster, his fingers threatening to end you before you even had him.

“Alfie you’re going to finish me before we even get started.” You whine.

“Oh, but we’ve started love.” he groans into your neck. “Has any man taken his time like this with you before?”

“No.” You admit.

“Then you are in for a treat love. You’ll be killin' that prick husband of yours even sooner now won’t ya? You said I wasn’t like other men, why wouldn’t that carry on into the way I fuck?” his confidence is intoxicating.

“I see your point.” you flash him a smile through a bitten lip.

“But do you feel it love?” He asks, fingers entering you and pressing the hard heat of him against your bare thigh. You let out a wanton moan at the sudden feeling and he puts his hand over your mouth. “You do feel it.” He coos, fingers fucking into you, exploring you and stretching you in ways you hadn’t felt before. “You can’t be so noisy, love. Someone findin' us would ruin your plan wouldn’t it?” You nod and whimper, he releases your mouth and you gasp for air as you breathe loudly through your nose to hold in your sounds of pleasure.

“Fuck Alfie.” You whine and mewl, eyes rolling back in your head. “I want to finish around your cock, and I’m close.”

“You will.” He says knowingly.

“But I’m...oh god I’m close.” your eyes begin to flutter.

“Don’t tell me no man has ever made you come more than once in one go?” his lips almost pout at you.

You shake your head, struggling to keep quiet. “No.” You moan, your hands now firmly gripping on his arms.

“Pet...” He coos, his hand now hitting into you harder with some sort of earth-shattering grip on you. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man.” he says so condescendingly in your ear as you begin to shake.

“Alfie” You whine, turning your face towards his.

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.” You plead, rubbing your hand to the back of his neck. “Keep me quiet with your lips.” You whine and he ruts against your thigh. Such a soft and needy little thing you were.

He answers you swiftly, feeling your muscles start to flutter and tense around his fingers. The kiss is harsh and biting. You knock his hat off as your fingers reach into that thick dark gingery hair you’d fantasised about running your fingers through. His lips just as thick and soft as you’d imagined. You share moans from each other mouths, feeling his arm against your back, pulling himself closer to you. it’s rushed and passionate and the most arousing kiss you’d ever had. The combination of his oppressive kiss and his pounding fingers makes you fall over the edge quickly. He feels the grip of your fingers in his hair tighten, the hitch in your breathing, the way your lips stopped and trembled against his as you began to gasp and squeak before he allowed himself to indulge in one sultry and wanton moan, rising from your flushed chest before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and holding your face to keep it still and your lips together.

He finds himself losing himself in you. The way you were so open, you weren’t hiding your pleasure from him in some reservation or power move, you gave yourself to him freely and wholly and it was the first interaction he could think of since before the war that felt honest. As your cries quiet, now only noisy heaves of your chest, he withdraws his fingers, the mess he’d made of you being moved now to his cock which was at full attention with your performance and writhing against him.

“Oh my god.” You sigh out, eyes fluttering open again, hands on his face. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You ask earnestly and he grins.

“Us Jewish men are meant to please our women.” He croons into your ear as he kisses your neck.

“I’ve been with the wrong sort of men.” The post orgasm bliss making you let out a soft laugh.

“Clearly.” He growls and it brings you back into the moment. You feel his hands move against you. “We aren’t finished here love” he groans, hands finding the backs of your thighs and pushing you against the wall, your legs put around his hips and as you feel the heat of him against you the moans start again. “Such a wanting little thing aren’t you?” He grins into your chest, sliding himself against your soaked slit, tapping against your clit and pressing against your entrance.

“For you. After that how I could I not be?” you sigh into him.

“Then tell me. Tell me you want it.” he commands.

“You do love your words.” You let out a short lived giggle. “I want that fat cock of yours Alfie. I want you to fuck me hard and leave me a mess like I know you can. I want you to feel his little cunny wrapped right around you and know it’s yours.”

He groans at the words, forehead pressing into your chest for a moment to compose himself as he notches into you. “And what a tight little cunny it is pet, fuck me.” He grunts.

“Fuck.” You squeak. “Go slow love, go slow.” You breathily beg and in his animalistic frame of mind it makes him want to do the opposite.

“I won’t make it hurt, pet, it’ll only ever feel good with me.” He promises in moan laced words as she slides himself inside you, hands on your arse as he rises and you’re lowered to meet into one.

With raspy swears from you both, you meet at both the hip and mouth as he buries himself fully in you. Your lashes flutter and you let out deep moans into his mouth. “So deep, Alfie.” You whisper against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck. He holds you up, the wall helping him as one arm wraps around your lower back and the other laces under your knee to keep you open and up.

With a slow withdraw, that isn’t quite pain, he takes a deep breath to prepare himself. He didn’t expect you to be so tight, but who was he to assume you’d been with a man recently? He starts to wonder what other things he’s only assumed and has yet to learn about you. But right now he was more interested in learning your body, submitting it to memory as he wa sure this coupling would haunt him in his dreams until the next time it came. He follows as you ask, a slow pump of his hips in and out of you, feeling your lashes flutter against his cheeks as you panted your subdued moans against his face.

You splay one hand across his cheek, the bristle of his beard against your palm, your thumb pulls his bottom lip down for you to stretch your neck and take it into your mouth. He was so much softer than you’d imagined. A light chap to the center of his lip is gone as you suck away at it, little moans of enjoyment given up as you take him in from both ends.

“Faster, Alfie.” you whisper against him and he obeys your command. With a grunt, he moves his hands grip on you tighter, strong forearms holding you up. With your knees higher and pushed back, he begins a harder pace, watching your eyes threaten to roll back into your head.

"Like that, love?" his gruff voice asks. Even though it was a question, it felt more like a command in his deep tone, the steady smack of skin to skin hitting, the sound filling the shed.

The moan that escapes you from the question is small and light, which was the opposite of what you were feeling. "Yes." you rasp out, tongue flicking out against his lips, set in an almost snarl as he felt your body tremble and shake. Your eyes eventually bat and close over the whites as your pupils dilate and they disappear into the back of your head. "Does this feel so good because it is wrong?" you ask, a small smirk before he grinds into you, making you gasp as you took him in to the hilt. "Or is it simply you Solomons?" you grin and feel

"Certainly not your fuckin' husband is it?" he groans through gritted teeth before, nipping at your lower lip as it hung loosely as he pumped into you, building a second release.

"No it's fuckin' not." you let out a deep chuckle, a girlish gasp as the mention of your decisions of the day bring a possessive sort of anger in him. "Shit." you squeak, eyes flutter back open as he hits into you harder. You meet his eyes, blue and cold and half hidden under his intimidating heavy brow. "It's all you isn't it?" you moan out, meeting him with a harsh kiss that he returns with teeth and force.

"That it is." he growls as you part for a few rbeaths as you start your worldless lamenting of how good he felt. "Is it all for me, love? This cunt? Killin' that fuckin' daft prick of a man?"

"Yes." you moan out, the acceptance and embrace for how bad what you were doing was, was adding to your pleasure in a new way. You'd never been with a man to talk to you in such a way. "For you, Alfie. Since the day I told you no. For you. For us." This was more than the boring dominance that you had experiened before. This was beyond calling you a slag before bending you over and slapping your arse. He was in your head, and that was a place no man had ever been before. You were finding it to be just a pleasure as him being inside your cunt.

"That makes you mine then, yeah? Makes everyfing you do from now 'til that wanker dies for me. Ya dinnit marry him today did ya? Ya fuckin' married me. You schemein' little minx." he moans out, letting himself give in to his feelings for you, for the warm tingling that ran from his head to his balls at the thought that you'd been thinking of him as he had you for these months.

"Oh, fuck, Alfie." you sigh out, your eyes looking tired as let the warm waves of pleasure start lapping away at you from his words. "Oh fuck me, you're gonna make me come with a mouth like that."

"Dirty girl." he growls, pounding into you now, trying to let out all the heavy hurt he'd felt knowing you were with another man. But you were his now. "She knows how fuckin' naughty she's been. Gets off on knowin' what a lyin' little bird she is." he bites into your skin with his teeth and words as your head tilts back and the moans grow louder.

"Yes. Oh god, Alfie, yes I do." you grin and gasp.

"And now you're fuckin' your husbands enemy on your fuckin' weddin' day you filthy thing." he moans, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. Finding himself liking the deception of your actions as much as you were. "And you're gonna think 'bout me every night innit ya love? Ya gonna lay in that tacky fuckin' bedroom of 'is, 'n think about what a real man would be doin' to ya if he were there. Wonderin' if ya could kill him faster just to get back to me 'n these hands...this cock that knows what a brilliant fuckin' woman you are, yeah?" he lets it all go, giving you the mental stimulation you never knew you needed.

You let out a low and rumbling laugh of pure enjoyment that makes his balls tense. "I will." you gasp, lowering your face back down and leaning in towards his, making him look at you. "I'll be thinking about you fucking me every day. About this big cock. Imagining what filthy words this clever brain would be whispering to me. Ugh, Alfie, you've gone and ruined me haven't you?"

"I deliver on my fuckin' word for you, love." he grunts.

"Fuck, Alfie I'm gonna come." you moan, moving into another round of harsh kisses. "Give me soemthin' to think about on those lonely nights, Solomons. Give me something to keep me warm for you until his body goes cold." you moan into his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head.

"I'll fuckin' fill you up with warm, love." he growls, teeth knocking as you both gave in and started to shake.

"Fuckin' do it." you growl and the sound makes his nails dig into your skin. "I'm gonna come around this thick cock and I'm gonna milk you for all you've got, Alfie. Fill me up. Leave me with the reminder that I'm yours dripping down my thighs after you leave." you whine out, fingers tight in his hair as you snarl and your brow lowers, your body starting to seie and convulse.

"Fuck." he growls, hitting as hard as he can, a more helpless sound escaping him, feeling you tighten around him. "Take it. Fuckin' 'ell take all 'a me." his words rise and fall with his moans, as the feeling of you around him proves too much. A deep guttural sound rises up as your noses bump together, both unable to kiss as your lips trembled and his snarled as you came.

Coming down together was something new for you, there was something strikingly intimate about watching the hunger fade out of each other's eyes, sharing breaths as you both heave and recover. You both mutter swears, small droplets of sweat on your temples, that you wipe away from his handsome face. He was much more rugged than your husband was, you thought. An unshaven face with power behind his eyes, a strong brow and nose over what you could feel was a well-rounded chin hiding beneath the gingery beard. Your husbands was smooth and plain, a perfectly acceptable face but not much unique about it. Brown hair and brown eyes, thin lips and a chin that was lacking, even if it was minor. He led his men, but he didn't hold a candle to the charisma that Alfie exuded without even trying.

He speaks first. "Let's put ya down, now." he says with clear eyes and a nod. You let out a girlish grunt as one foot hits the ground, his hands warm and firm against your soft thighs, making sure you were stable before they regretfully departed from your skin. He puts himself away into his trousers as you pull up your dress.

"Would you?" you ask softly, the tone and doe eyes so different from just moments before as you turn and hold the high neck of the dress together, asking him to help you.

"'Course." he says in his usual gruff tone, thick square tipped fingers managing with the small pearl buttons.

You turn and dust yourself off, seeing no real damage done to the dress. "Am I decent?" you ask with a tug back of the corner of your mouth.

"Entirely not." he teases, an easier going and charming smile across his face as his fingers tuck loose hairs back into place, a brief dusting of the back of your dress, before a cheeky slap to your bum that makes you giggle. "It's a shame you look so lovely." he says quietly. "Such a waste of beauty on an absolute git." he tsks. "'Spose it's good you got to wear white. Won't get to do that again, eh?" he grins and bends to pick up his cane with a grunt.

"Suppose I'll be getting used to wearing black soon enough." you say with a flirty tone and he recognizes the mischief in your soft face.

"Unless he was already dead, it would not be soon enough." he says and leans in to drive his point home.

To his surprise your hands reach out and take him by his loose collar, pulling him in for a kiss. "I will begin my work tonight." you whisper, nuzzling your nose against his, an affectionate gesture he did not anticipate. "And I'll find a way to be in touch. With him ill we can most likely arrange something to see each other again."

He hears the hopeful tone in your voice and it convinces him you mean what you're saying once agian. "And if not... I look forward to seeing you at the funeral." he grins boyishly and tenderly touches your jaw. "I'll be the one that won't be payin' no mind to the body. Only you." he whispers with a soft press of his lips again. It carries on, a soft back and forth, something gentle to off set the hard of earlier. "You better get goin' now. Else you'll be missed." he says with a sigh, a light tap to your nose before he leans away.

"You're right." you nod and take a deep breath. "I must admit I thought leaving you and going back to my life in there would be easier." you willingly express your fondness for him with a soft smile.

"And I thought watching you leave would be too, love." he purrs back, making your stomach flutter.

"Until next time?" you say with a more playful smirk.

"Until then." he nods, stepping away from you.

"I'll be thinking of you, Alfie." you say softly, silhouetted in the doorway to the shed.

"I know." he grins, a low chuckle rumbling out across the space between you. "And I you, love. Now go, pet." he says with a shooing motion of his hand.

With one final up and down of him with your eyes, your hitch up your dress and move back to the dressing room. You climb in the window, shut it, and rest on the bed for a moment before freshening up.

"Miss?" you hear after a knock at the door after you'd been staring out the window for a moment. "Your husband wanted me to come check on you. Are you unwell?"

"I believe too much champagne was the culprit." you say with a feminine lilt you were used to performing.

"Do you require anything?"

"No." you say with a sigh. "I'll be out to get him shortly." you say with a smirk.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester@lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r@iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69@thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle@negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom@give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower@tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories

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chnat0wn · 5 years ago

Text

Black Irises

Relationship: Alfie Solomons/Original Female Character

09. Black Crows

Tommy's large, probably haunted house looked even more terrifying than usual. It was surrounded by white clouds of morning fog. The green leaves of the trees were moving carefully under the influence of the gentle wind. The same wind that was hitting Deborah's silhouette. It forced her to wrap her coat tighter.

She went to the door. Before she could knock, Mary poked her head out. She smiled at Deborah, then removed herself in the doorstep. She took Deborah's coat, and though the low temperature in the house was giving her goosebumps, she didn't protest. Mary didn't even realize that Deborah was wearing only a nightgown.

“Mr Shelby and the other gentleman are waiting in Mr Shelby's office.” Mary said, friendly smile on her face. Deborah smiled back, rubbing her cold hands together. “Would you like some warm tea?” Mary asked after a moment, and Deborah nodded. “I’ll get it for you.” she added and left.

Deborah headed to the room Mary mentioned earlier. She wasn't looking at the dark walls and the paintings she knew by heart. She wanted to get into the office as soon as possible, and she couldn't let anything distract her. She turned the door handle and pushed another pair of heavy doors. The smell of cigarette smoke was mixing with the air in the room. Thomas and Alfie both glanced at Deborah. Thomas looked indifferent, though the slight twitch of his face muscles indicated that he didn't particularly like what he was seeing – a large bandage on Deborah's face. Alfie didn't seem as mysterious as Tommy. He frowned, and Deborah could almost hear his thoughts. And if Biagio were in the same room with them, Alfie would strangle him to death.

Tommy cleared his throat and put out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the desk. “I'll leave you.” he said, shortly after he left the room.

Alfie approached Deborah with a slow, cautious steps. In case Biagio managed to discourage her to all men without exception. Alfie took off his coat, which Mary apparently had no chance to take away from him, and put it on Deborah's shoulders. “It is fuckin’ freezin’ in ‘ere. And ya are trembling, mate.” he said. He stared at her before he took a step back. “And you wear… only your underwear.” he pursed his lips. The view alone didn't matter that much, it didn't shock Alfie, didn't cause negative feelings. Still, it brought the memories back. The moment Alfie saw Deborah for the first time – as an embarrassed, just pulled out of bed eighteen-year-old girl. The problem was how much has changed since then. “Haven't ya had time to get dress?”

“I didn't know the reason why you came so suddenly, so it seemed to me that the case is serious.” she shrugged. She put her arms into the sleeves of the coat and wrapped herself in it, inhaling the scent. It didn't smelled like a rum or any other type of alcohol. It smelled fresh. It smelled like a cool wind. “Why are you here?” Deborah raised her gaze at Alfie.

“Because I didn't believe a word from your maid's mouth.” he raised his eyebrows. “You come every fucking day for a round month, right? For a round month, no day off. And then we're fucking in me bakery, and suddenly ya ‘ave to go to your family.” he frowned theatrically. “And I was not wrong. He fucking hurt ya. He went too fucking far.”

Deborah sighed resignedly, rubbing her forehead. “Alfie...”

“Alfie what?” he asked in a raised tone. Irritation surfaced, flooding everything around. Alfie wasn't angry, though he was close to it. He couldn't understand what Deborah was trying to do. “What holds you by ‘is side? What makes you want to be stuck in ‘his ‘ell?”

“That’s not the point!” Deborah protested sharply. Alfie looked like he wanted to say something more. A burning need dried his lips, but fueled his mind. Still, he didn't say a word. “If I leave, Biagio will kill me. Or he will be slowly destroying my life for years, lurking somewhere in the dark corner. And what kind of life is this, huh? Fearing that something will collapse at any moment.” she smiled without a shadow of real joy. She shook her head. “If you kill him, you'll bring a bad luck on us. A fucking Sicilian mafia. And believe me, Alfie,” she took a few steps toward him. “there are things even bigger than you. Than God Himself.”

Alfie was staring at Deborah. He was breathing calmly, which was an unusual phenomenon in his case. He knew Deborah was right. But he was who he was. He acted impulsively, brutally and usually didn't pay attention to the consequences that followed. Why should he, if he had all London in his grip?

He grabbed Deborah's chin tenderly. She flinched at the moment she felt the rough skin of his hands on her own. “Fuck this Sicilian mafia, alright?” he managed a smile. And he smiled so sweetly that a heat wave passed through Deborah's body. She knew that smile. It belonged to her lovely boy, whom she thought she had lost for good. He had been appearing in some small things, in unexpected moments. “The skirmish wif’ the Sicilians is nothing compared to the War. Mothers lost their sons and wives their husbands. And it is just another fuckin’ wop. I care about you. We all want you to be safe. Did ya see Tommy's face? He was terrified. Fucking terrified.”

“Tommy Shelby was fucking terrified? Since when can you recognize it?” she laughed softly. Alfie's smile reached his eyes. He was amused and charmed by the innocence of the current moment. “No.” Deborah whispered after a long silence, during which they were looking at each other without a word. “I will lose more than I can bear. I lost you and couldn't do anything about that. I'm not going to risk, Alfie.”

“Ya couldn’t do anyfing about that, eh?” Alfie repeated mockingly. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.” he shook his head.

Deborah suspected that Alfie had constructed his own version of truth from scraps that he had been discovering over the years. She felt a strong urge to tell him everything - from the moment he got on the train to the day they met again. But she was afraid. Alfie was still too hurt to see things as they were. Deborah feared he wouldn't believe her. That he would reject her, accusing her of lying. Once she wouldn't have the slightest resistance to do this, but Biagio broke her, persuading all these years how worthless she is.

Mary entered the room. Before that, she knocked carefully on the wooden door, but Deborah was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn't notice a thing. The woman set down the silver tray with three steaming cups of tea, nodded, and left.

“When are you coming back to Camden Town? You can't leave the bakery for too long.” Deborah rubbed her hands on her shoulders, gazing across the floor. She was already missing conversations with Ollie, as well as spending time with Roy, Bill and Freddie. She missed this old, dusty building.

Alfie allowed himself to sit on the sofa. He put his hands on his cane and looked at the window. The rising sun cast a cool light into the room. “Ollie can handle it for a few hours. I canceled the meetings so that the boy wouldn't get too tired.” he sneered, pursing his lips.

Deborah grabbed one of the cups - the one that contained the lightest color of liquid. Mary knew perfectly that Deborah prefers tea with milk. She sat down next to Alfie and dipped her upper lip in a hot drink. She set the cup down on a nearby table and ran her tongue over her mouth, collecting the last of the flavor. “He can definitely handle it. He is not stupid.” Deborah rolled her eyes and put her hand on Alfie's forearm. She stroked it comfortingly.

Alfie immediately glanced at the place where her slim, trembling fingers rested. Then he looked up to her face. He was gazing at her pale skin. That was why he called her a doll years ago. Because her face was like porcelain. Now, it no longer looked as healthy as it once did. There were fading bruises and other marks on it, not to mention the red line hidden under the dressing. Alfie thought that she had chosen such a fate for herself. On the other hand, he blamed himself for allowing such a thing.

He raised a hand to her face. He gently ran his thumb over her chin, then hooked her lower lip with it. Deborah didn't wince at his touch like she had been doing with Biagio. She felt safe when Alfie was next to her. And without thinking much, she wrapped her lips around his thumb. She looked into Alfie's eyes, sucking his finger. She lowered her eyelids, her cheeks grew concave, and Alfie held his breath, watching her. When he finally took his hand away, a short and weak bundle of saliva was connecting Deborah's mouth and his thumb for a moment.

Deborah climbed at Alfie’s thighs. The cane he held until now fell on the wooden panels with a loud crash. But Alfie needed free hands to be able to place them on Deborah's buttocks. He did it for fear of her possible fall, although they both doubted it could happen. “I can’t, Alfie.” she whispered. She clung to his lips in a short, greedy kiss. “I can't pretend I don't need you. Because I do.”

Alfie stared down at her, still stunned by her sudden kiss, her closeness. “And I need you. I fuckin’ need you.” he said with a heavy breath. Deborah put a hand on the back of his neck and brushed the tips of his hair with her fingers. “Are ya in pain again, love? Ya want me to ease it?”

“No.” she shook her head. She began to move her hips subtly. Her bottom was brushing Alfie's crotch, slowly driving him to a madness. Deborah felt a growing bulge that in itself was giving her pleasure with every move. “Not this time.” she added in an undertone. She leaned back a little, and the bend of her body emphasized her collarbones, ribs, and showed her cleavage. Alfie put a hand on her breast, thumb brushing her nipple, his fingers of the other hand dug into her bum.

Deborah leaned forward and kissed Alfie again. Their lips clung together much longer than the first time. She tickled the tip of Alfie's palate, and he grunted in satisfaction. He moved his hand under the nightgown she was wearing. He stroked her thigh, and when Deborah pressed Alfie's crotch a little harder, he clenched his fingers.

Deborah moved away for one purpose. She immediately unbuttoned Alfie's pants and slipped them off with his help. Alfie lifted Deborah's pajamas. She was wet and swollen, pulsating with desire.

“Go on, love.” he muttered. Deborah lowered her hips and moaned hollowly as the head of Alfie's hard cock stuck in her. She bit her lip and put her hand on his shoulder for better stability. Shortly afterwards he filled her to the end. “Fucnkin’ ‘ell. Good girl.” Alfie praised and placed a kiss on her lips.

Deborah began to make slow, a bit inept movements. She felt sore and tired, but she knew that she needed a few minutes to get used to it again. She was in no hurry, she tried to receive all the thrust fully. Besides, Alfie had time. He certainly had enough of it to wait for Deborah to be more confident. He was watching her in all this, admired the slightly parted lips, barely opened eyes and sweat drops on her forehead.

The room seemed to fill with the warmth they produced. The walls were absorbing also moans that Deborah tried to suppress. But she couldn't be silent when Alfie's cock was rubbing against her soft inside, as he was stimulating the wet, sensitive walls of hers.

Deborah moved faster and faster. Their bodies was colliding with each other. At that moment, she wasn't thinking about her life. She didn't care about the pain, didn't bring back memories of the last night. She focused only on what Alfie was leading her to. On how close to the explosion she was.

Alfie was observing her face mostly. She was completely different when she was fucking him. Carefree, at the same time concentrated and determined to achieve a goal that would satisfy both of them. From time to time he looked at her bouncing breasts, refraining from touching them.

Dark spots flooded her field of view. She tilted her head back abruptly and stopped any movement, unable to even budge. Her legs were shaking in pleasure spasms, Alfie kept his hands on her hips in case the orgasm turned out to be too rapid. Breathing heavily, she looked at him. He seemed worried, but Deborah decided to change it. A few final moves led Alfie to the edge. He pursed his lips, grunted, and released a decent charge of air that had accumulated in his lungs. Deborah felt the wet, sticky warmth spilling inside of her.

She kissed the corner of Alfie's mouth as he continued to catch deep breaths. “It felt nice.” she smiled.

“Nice, eh?” he repeated incredulously and shook his head. “You ‘aven't changed at all.”

Thomas entered the room with a cigarette in his mouth. He glanced at Alfie, who was sitting on the armrest of the sofa, and raised his eyebrows. “You have waited.” he said. He went to the alcohol table and chose one of the bottles available. He poured a small amount into a low, wide glass. “Don't tell me which piece of furniture it was. Just take it with you.”

Tommy's mansion was huge, with lots of rooms. Still, when there was dead silence everywhere, the only sound became the center of attention. Thomas could easily understand why Deborah and Alfie spent in his office more time than necessary. He heard her. He heard her perfectly.

“So,” Thomas cleared his throat. He took the place that actually belonged to him. Behind a massive wooden desk. “You wanted to talk. Let's talk.”

“Yeah, exactly. Let’s talk about fuckin’ Biagio Castellano.” Alfie pursed his lips, staring at Shelby with his eyes wide open, almost theatrical curiosity. As if he was asking what the fuck are you thinking? “Actually, I am wonderin' why he is still alive. Why he doesn't have a fuckin’ idea where he belongs. I know where he belongs. Ya know where he belongs. But he does not have a fucking idea.”

“Alfie,” Thomas sighed heavily. The cigarette between his fingers was spreading suffocating smell. “What is your point?”

“I want to know, right? I want to know why you do not react to what you see. You saw what he did to her. It wouldn't ‘ave happened if ya took matters into yer own hands. And you sit ‘ere and feel sorry for yerself like a little girl.” Alfie was speaking calmly. But his peace was as stable as the card house. “Ya and yer fuckin’ Peaky Boys.”

Thomas scratched his thumb over his upper lip. He frowned as if he didn't understand what Alfie was up to. But he wasn't stupid. “I’ll tell you.” he raised his eyebrows. “Deborah is grown and sensible. If she needed help, she would say. But she knows that Biagio is a dangerous enemy for us to fight.” he leaned back in his seat. “Deborah is a part of this family. But until she determine the right moment, I have me hands tied.”

“She does not know she need help, for fuck’s sake.” Alfie said. “But she doesn't ‘ave to know. All she needs is to receive it. This ‘s why I came ‘ere.” he spread his arms in a savior gesture. Immediately afterwards he placed his hands on the cane.

Tommy tilted his head back and scanned the ceiling. He smiled, inhaled and glanced at Alfie again. “The killing of Biagio Castellano? You do business with him through your weakness for Italians,” he stated, pointing at Alfie with the smoldering tip of the cigarette. “so you know about the mafia.”

“I know ‘bout fucking mafia. I am aware of fucking mafia.” Alfie agreed. “But I cannot stand there and watch him slowly take her life, can I? Ya know her. Ya knew her years ago, and ya know that she is not the same person. He changed her into a timid, insecure woman. And our Debby was about to become somfing bigger than ‘his.”

“I’ll talk to Arthur and John.” Tommy answered almost immediately. “But I don't expect them to protest.”

The dark blue sky stretched from one horizon to another. Black crows were cutting the vault, but instead of making animal noises, they were screaming like tortured people. Deborah covered her ears with her hands, but it soon turned out that the screams were trapped inside her head. The trees around seemed dead due to the lack of leaves. There was a muddy, bare field under Deborah's feet. She wasn't wearing shoes, her feet and hands were covered with ground and something sticky.

She saw the figure lying on the area in the distance. The distance was too long for Deborah to assess the character's identity. She started running in that direction. Her legs refused to obey, every few steps she sank into the ground, which seemed to want to swallow her. And the farther she went, the farther she was from the destination. The crows kept screaming, the trees were whispering in an obscure language.

“Mum. ”

Deborah looked around desperately. It was Benjamin's voice. And it pierced her mind again and again.

“Mum! Help me! ”

Benjamin clearly needed her and she couldn't help him. She couldn't even find him, though there was nothing around except a few trees. It was only after a time, that seemed to flow for years, that she realized that her son's voice was coming from the point where she had been rushing to from the very beginning. A shapeless element in the distance was asking for help. With Benjamin's voice.

Deborah tried again. This time, nothing prevented her from getting there. An unidentified object that previously looked like a human figure was gradually approaching. It turned out to be a white sheet, stained with soil and blood. The same blood she had on her hands. She knelt and hurriedly pulled off the material that was moving in the wind.

It was him. It was Benjamin. His face was ashy, the skin on his cheeks cracked, showing rotten meat. His mouth was opened in a scream of terror he experienced. Big, black bugs and smaller, white larvae escaped from between his lips. His eyes seemed to be behind a misty coating. But he turned his head and looked at her, and when the last insect left his mouth, they moved in a few words. “You could have saved me. ”

Deborah sat up abruptly and immediately looked around the room.

“It’s alright now.” the arms that appeared in the darkness embraced Deborah and pressed her against a warm body. She heard a calming, slow heartbeat that didn't sound like her own at all. Her heart wanted to jump out of the chest; break her ribs with strong blows and leave her body. “You are safe.” Tommy's hoarse voice, that owed its tone to the years of smoking and drinking alcohol, broke into her mind and slowed down all processes in her head. She felt calm again, like then when she was falling asleep.

“Tommy...” she gasped and looked at him. Thomas placed his hands on both sides of her face, making their eye contact easier. “Where is Ben?”

“Still at Ada's.” he said. He slowly took his hands away, one of them slid over her shoulder and stroked it. “All right?” Tommy wasn't used to being soft, certainly not since Grace died. But all the warmth that was hidden in his recesses was just pouring over Deborah. He knew she needed it. That, just after waking up, she was like a lost child. And Thomas and his brothers promised to take care of her as befits a family.

Deborah nodded. She looked away, and it wasn't long before she cried at the thought of her child. About dead Benjamin, who blamed her for his death. Thomas once again hugged her body in a firm but tender grip. He stroked her hair, saying it was over and everything was fine. The problem was that the end has yet to come.

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