a rough town

[ofanotherera]

London is trouble on every corner. Tommy has been shown this, time and again, but all the same, Sabini's men manage to find him on the wrong side of the Camden road, and from there it's all blood and bad fortune, for everyone involved in the little dustup.

Comments

[ofanotherera]

"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.

[bleak_midwinter]

Quite quickly he chokes- just a little, but enough that it makes his jaw spasm underneath Alfie's hand. He keeps his eyes closed, though, and lets his jaw drop further.

[ofanotherera]

"Fuck." Alfie says, appreciatively, and pushes deeper, with little regard for him- except it isn't quite that, because he is paying attention. Maybe it's more fair to call it deliberate sadism.

"That's the way, love, just-"

Holding him by the hair now, nudging him back against the wall and boxing him in with his strong legs.

[bleak_midwinter]

On his knees, feeling the cold of the wall against his bruised back and the heat of Alfie's body against his front, he doesn't notice the care Alfie is taking with him. All he knows, by now, is how good it feels, how he wants it more, deeper-

It's exactly right. The only shiver of fear that still runs through him is the anticipation of breathlessness, of choking, which he does every time Alfie pushes deep enough. The rest of it is pleasured pain, and every time Alfie pulls out he moans, softly.

[ofanotherera]

"Good boy, good boy, good fucking-"

Jesus. He spasms, grabs him hard by the hair, and comes, deep in his mouth, holding his face turned up so he can see the tears in his eyes when it chokes him.

[bleak_midwinter]

He hadn't even noticed the steady trickle of them down his cheeks, but when Alfie grabs him and then comes- swelling in his mouth, spasming, making Tommy choke on his come, comes- they flow freely. He's not even sure all of it is a purely physical response. Somewhere he knows Alfie wants to see it, so he opens his eyes halfway through, big and blue and hurt and, now, a little more afraid now that he can feel his lungs run out of air.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie rocks forward, taken by an aftershock at just the sight, then pulls out so he can get a gasp or two in.

He tucks his prick away, and then reaches for a handkerchief, finding the spare to clean him back up.

[bleak_midwinter]

He is shivering and shaking where he is, doesn't even think to close his mouth until Alfie starts cleaning him up. When he does he wipes weakly at the come tricking down his jaw, and then looks at Alfie.

This was so- so different from last time. His throat is sore and he feels like he spent half an hour crying, but it's good, it's warm and heady and he did good.

[ofanotherera]

"Oh," says Alfie, stroking him again, and then bending down to take him gently by the arms, to help him to his feet, and into the kitchen.

"Come along, Mister Shelby. You aren't in any state to leave here tonight, so you'll have to let me clean you up."

[bleak_midwinter]

It's a bit of an emotional whiplash, Alfie fucking his mouth so hard he cries and then taking him so gently by the arms to clean him up. It makes his breath hitch, makes him have to wipe at his eyes again. He feels some shame at that, that he can't keep himself from doing it. He follows, lets himself be led.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie takes Tommy into the kitchen, and sits him delicately down in front of the kitchen hearth while he starts up a fire. You treat shock (not by face-fucking someone into tears, but that ship has sailed) with warmth, so despite the fact that it's only a mildly chilled spring night, he gets a fire up in his little stove, and a kettle on, first things first. When he's near enough to him, he touches his hair, or braces a hand on his shoulder as he crouches at the grate.

While the kettle sets to boiling, Alfie fetches Tommy a pastry, a little stale but filled with sweet honey and nuts. He breaks a little piece off for him, and pushes it into his hand.

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy is shivering for a while as Alfie goes about his business, but the touches calm him down, bit by bit. By the time he's handed the pastry he's still breathing a little shallow (and raspy, mostly thanks to the choking) but he looks better. The warmth is settling into his bones, and he quietly eats. It's probably the most quiet he's ever been around Alfie, the most passive.

[ofanotherera]

The first kettle turns into two cups of tea, and then he begins the arduous process of drawing him a hot bath- there's a small, but deep copper tub he produces from one of the back cupboards, with some swearing, some clattering.

He comes back after that, to settle next to him, mutely, and sip his own tea while the kettle begins to work up to steam again.

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy has both hands wrapped around the cup, and slowly his eyes start slipping shut. He can't quite summon up words yet, but he leans a little so that he can feel more of Alfie's body heat- more of his presence to calm himself.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie sits with him like that, until it's time to empty the kettle into the bath again, and refill it.

It's a slow process. This time, when he comes back over to Tommy, he brings a chair, and sits on it, close enough to tug him in to lean against his knees.

"You did that well."

[bleak_midwinter]

He goes easily, sips his tea slowly before replying.

"Thank you." Which would normally seem like a strange thing to say, to a man like Tommy, coming from a man like Alfie. But it doesn't, right now.

"It was-" Good, is most of what he wants to say, but can't quite get himself to. It was good, even if it was frightening, and painful.

[ofanotherera]

"Did I hurt you?"

He wants to know, except it isn't a normal question. It's the same way he once asked him if he'd ever been to Timbuktu. Would you like me to?

[bleak_midwinter]

"Yes," he replies, turning a little to look up at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and a soft, barely-there smile. Obviously, and thankfully, yes.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie rears in, and doesn't so much kiss him as bite down, hard, on his bottom lip. Cheek, Tommy.

He already wants him hurting again.

[bleak_midwinter]

He whimpers softly, willing the tears to not spring to his eyes. Instead he reaches up, tugs on the briefly hair of Alfie's beard.

"Bath first," he rasps, licking his own lip. Then- yes, then more.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie nods, and lets him go, sipping his tea again, before reaching out to start unbuttoning all of the bits of Tommy in reach that will eventually need to be unbuttoned.

[bleak_midwinter]

His collar goes easily, and then the buttons on his shirt. His chest is a mess of bruises, the tattoo there almost invisible between them. His fingers shakily start working on the others, from the bottom up.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie swats his hands aside, and bends down to do it himself, rubbing a careful palm over the worst of the marks as he uncovers them.

"Jagging pretty close to certain death, Tommy Shelby."

[bleak_midwinter]

He leans into him, sips his tea instead. The bruises throb and twinge but the hurts have faded enough.

"Wouldn't be doing this if there weren't risks," he says, an echo of their last conversation.

[ofanotherera]

He moves, as the kettle starts to whistle. Pours it in, fetches another, gives the water a test with his hand. It's too hot yet, so he adds some of the cool- and that's enough that he nods his head at Tommy, and moves to strip him more determinedly, get him all the way down to naked.