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

[bleak_midwinter]

"The things I let you do to me," he whispers, hoarse, leaning up to kiss him, filthy and wet.

[ofanotherera]

"Gonna let me do more?"

He wonders, reaching for the oil in the nightstand.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Until I can't take any more of it, most probably." He nudges his good knee against Alfie's side, urging him closer.

[ofanotherera]

"Trying to decide how nice to be to you."

Alfie admits, with a little growl.

[bleak_midwinter]

"What're the options? Let me help you narrow it down."

He has some ideas of his own, but he wonders how far Alfie Solomons can go with gentle and nice until he hits another subtly sadistic wall.

[ofanotherera]

"Fuck me."

He says, and then decides, without giving him a chance for input.

He shifts down, spreads Tommy's legs, and kisses his stomach, then the head of his cock.

[bleak_midwinter]

He's half-heard from the tension alone, and when Alfie settles between his legs and kisses him he gasps, hitches his hips up involuntarily.

"Alright," he says, with the last bit of cheek he feels inside of him, "But you'll have to be on top, Alfie."

[ofanotherera]

He snorts, and gives him a sharp little bite, right on the hip. Wicked boy.

Then, he sucks his fingers into his mouth for a moment, and presses two against him.

[bleak_midwinter]

His legs fall open wider immediately, the suggestion enough to make him gasp. He wants to plead, softly, but he keeps his tongue in check a while longer.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie growls, and hitches his legs wider apart, putting his mouth back on him, sucking him in deeply, and with more familiarity than Tommy had, poor thing.

[bleak_midwinter]

He vaguely, very vaguely, wonders where Alfie learned that, and decides to ask him when the words can come to him again. For now he lets out a loud, happy moan, arches his back.

"Christ almighty, Alfie-"

[ofanotherera]

He pulls back, enough to spit on him, to use his two fingers to press inside him with it, raw and dry and mean.

"Blasphemy everywhere."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Not your lord's name I'm taking in vain-"

And then he stops speaking, because there's a burn between his legs and he needs to process it, has to frown and adjust before his expression softens into heady pleasure.

[ofanotherera]

To hell with it. Alfie pulls his fingers back, and slips his head lower, licking where he'd been touching, tongue pressing briefly up and into him.

He'd warned him about London men.

[bleak_midwinter]

He doesn't register what's happening at first- just registers something good is happening, something nice and wet and warm--

And then it clicks and he moans, deep and low. "Alfie, Jesus Christ, Alfie--" It's filthy, but not so filthy that he'll ask him to stop.

[ofanotherera]

He wets his fingers in his mouth, and pushes them into him, deeper this time, going back to sucking his cock to distract him, curling and searching for the spot that'll make him twitch.

[bleak_midwinter]

When he finds it Tommy goes taut all over, thighs clenching against Alfie's head and shoulders. It's not entirely unfamiliar, but it's never been both that and the hot, wet heat of a mouth on his cock. It has him grabbing at Alfie's hair, tugging a little, not up or down, just holding on.

[ofanotherera]

He does this fondly, determinedly, and for as long as it takes to get him twitching, screaming, to get him off. He's had a rough day, and he's been very good. He deserves something nice.

[bleak_midwinter]

It doesn't take very long at all. Within ten minutes he's a begging, twitching mess, rolling his hips down into Alfie's fingers, up into his mouth.

"Please," he stammers, "please, please, can I--" There is such desperation in his voice that it's clear he needs that, right here and now, needs Alfie's permission even if he's being nice right now.

[ofanotherera]

He pulls back to talk to him, but crooks his fingers harder; keeping him right on the edge.

"Fuck, you're lovely. Not yet."

[bleak_midwinter]

He lets out a soft sob, still open enough from earlier that the sound is wrenched from him and he doesn't feel any shame.

"I want to be good, but I can't-- I can't-" If he keeps fingering him he'll come, surely, surely it's right around the corner.

[ofanotherera]

"You will, you will- you're not gonna come, yet- yet-"

Fingers scissoring, cruelly.

"-now. Yeah, Tommy, come on."

[bleak_midwinter]

It's exactly what he'd needed. He screams himself right back to hoarseness, twists off the bed, coming so hard some lands on his collarbones.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie pulls his hand gently away, and kisses one hipbone, then the other.

"Good boy."

[bleak_midwinter]

He moans, as if the praise is somehow contributing to overstimulation, his hands falling limply to his side. The ribbons of come on his chest contrast sharply with the dark bruises and cuts that were already there, but he's completely oblivious- eyes closed, breathing hard, hips rolling a few more times in aftershock.