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]

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.

[ofanotherera]

"You've worked so fard for me today."

He praises him quietly, reaching for- and finding he has to go get another- handkerchief, to tidy him up, one last time.

"Rest now."

[bleak_midwinter]

When Alfie is done cleaning him, when he feels ready to sink into the mattress, he reaches for him with one hand- hesitantly, but reaching all the same. He'll prefer not to think about that in the morning, but he needs it now.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie comes back with blankets, too, and toes his shoes off, then pulls away his suspenders, uncuffs his shirt, and gets himself just comfortable enough to fall asleep.

The chimney from the kitchen comes up through this room, so it's warmer than it could be, but still worth piling the blankets high, and lying tight together underneath them.