ofanotherera | a rough town

"Fuck me."

He murmurs again, nakedly covetous, appreciative. As soon as he gets him alone, he is going to make him cry.

"I'll be two blocks behind you. Go."

Nodding his head at the door.

Satisfaction curls in Tommy's stomach, knowing that at least in this, he has Alfie Solomons. He's careful not to show it: he is ice, like he shows the world.

He gets up, works through the stiffness that has settled in his muscles, and then walks out the door. He takes a wet rag on his way out and cleans the blood off his hands, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to hold on to his cigarette if he didn't. Alfie can handle the rest of it, he figures, and he thinks of that as he smokes.

It doesn't even pay to light a second on the walk over to the house, and so he doesn't. He looks people in the eye and watches them flinch away, and by the time he's made it to the front door no one looks at him, and he is free to anticipate.

Alfie is, true to his word, there behind him just a few minutes later.

He shakes his hand, like this is a fucking business meeting, squeezes it firm enough to hurt a little, and then opens the door for him, gesturing him inside.

"Now this may be obvious, mate, but this is one of those doors we shut ourselves in behind, and everything fucking changes."

It does hurt, because his knuckles are bruised, his hands sore from the fight. He must look a sight, all bloodied up and bruised and shaking Alfie Solomons' hand like they're going to have tea.

He steps inside, and he is still hard, still ice; he can't let go of it that easily just yet. The only thing is that he doesn't reply, just hums and looks straight at Alfie: he understands alright.

Alfie shuts the door, locks it, and then lunges. He grabs Tommy hard by the collar, and his hand lifts up, threatening a slap as he shoves him up against the wall. He nearly does it, too, but stops himself just short, running his knuckles along Tommy's cheek.

"How much do you like it to hurt, then?"

He physically flinches away, can't help the instinctive motion- the relief of knuckles instead of the sting of rings makes his mouth drop slightly open.

"Badly," he whispers, hoarse all of a sudden. "I don't know- You're the only-"

He hasn't gone back to those dark alleys, he means; he doesn't know what would be too much because he hasn't been experimenting with others.

"I would burn down London for you."

He admits, and pushes two rough, dirty fingers into Tommy's softly parted mouth.

"If only you'd forgive me for it. But you wouldn't, Tommy Shelby."

He wants to suck on those fingers, badly, but instead he just pushes his tongue against them, drops his mouth open further in a soft, wet promise. It's a good distraction from the things Alfie's words make him think- he wouldn't, he wouldn't forgive him, but the fact that Alfie admitted to this makes Tommy's mind reel. He has a sinking, fearful suspicion that he will never be able to anticipate what Alfie will say.

Alfie hooks his fingers into Tommy's mouth, pushing down against his tongue, and gives a soft little jerk with his wrist.

Down.

"Knees."

He goes, wanting to do it gracefully but feeling a sharp twinge in his ribs that makes him go down, hard, knees thunking on the floor. He looks up at Alfie with those big, blue eyes, already softening, melting for him.

"Tommy, be honest. Are you too scared right now to let me have that mouth?"

Drawing his thumb over it.

"I know what I want, but I'm not sure that it's quite what you need." But, fisting a hand in his hair, the side away from that newly staunched cut. "Talk. Out loud."

The request takes just enough fear out of him- he shows Alfie, first off, by chasing that thumb by just a centimeter. He lets it go in favor of speaking, feeling incredibly grateful for the question, the consideration, for Alfie.

"I've never done it before," he has to admit, and that's frightening. But right now, behind this door, the rest of the fear he feels is good. An edge, not something to paralyze him. "I want it."

He thinks, perhaps, that Alfie needs him to say it in order to be able to go on and enjoy this, so he reaches up, curls one bruised hand around Alfie's hips, and says, "Please."

"All right."

Rubbing his thumb over Tommy's lip, then over his cheekbone. The one he still desperately wants to bruise up, with a slap or two. He reaches for his fly, instead.

"You won't be able to breathe all of the time, but just remember; I'm not going to kill you. You can't die from it."

He nods, where he would usually roll his eyes are surge forward to prove himself. He just nods, digs his fingertips in just a little deeper. It's not eagerness: just willingness, curiosity, and a bit of excitement.

Alfie holds him by the jaw for a second longer, remembering how he'd responded to that earlier, and strips his vest, then his suspenders off to hang. He opens his trousers, pulls himself out, half hard already, and reaches forward to take Tommy by the hair.

"Good lad."

He still has to anchor himself with his hand on Alfie's hip, but other than the can close his eyes, lean in, and suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

Alfie breathes out, slow and steady, and gives his scalp an approving scratch, still avoiding that cut.

"That's better, isn't it? There we are."

There is more blood to be found on his neck, and bruises to boot, but those won't be relevant right now. Right now he circles his thumb on Alfie's hipbone and starts sucking, trying to remember the times this was done for him. Not often, really- British girls tend not to, even the prostitutes. But he knows what's good for him, broadly.

Alfie lets out an appreciative breath, and swells, slowly, in his mouth. He growls his appreciation, and moves, thrusting, just shallowly.

"Tuck your teeth away, love."

It's hopelessly arousing to feel Alfie getting hard inside of him, and he moans at that- at the little name, again. He does as he's told, for now not moving, letting Alfie set the pace as he presses his tongue flat against the heat of him.

Another few thrusts, and he's most of the way erect, stroking and soothing, gentling him as he starts to move deeper and deeper.

"That's it, that's it now-"

He opens his eyes as Alfie starts moving deeper- he's curious whether he wants Tommy to move, or if he prefers him keeping still. He decides to test it, eyes still open, by bobbing his head a little.

Alfie glances down at him in surprise, as though he'd forgotten he was a participant in this, and smiles, though it's difficult to say for sure if that's the case behind his beard.

"Good."

Reserved, quiet praise.

It's hard to see in the dim light, anyway, but Tommy doesn't need to see the smile in order to hear it. He does it again, with some confidence, eyes slipping back shut. He hadn't expected the praise to shudder down his spine, but there it is.

"Open wider."

He orders him, taking him by the jaw again, holding him still, having to stoop a little- but it's worth it, for how it feels to fuck into his mouth, to take him this way, with how lovely he looks, wide eyed and bloodstained.

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