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staarboyyy · 6 months

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unexpected morning - chapter ii [ prev. ]

thomas shelby x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; smoking, fluff, morning sex, oral sex, power imbalance, overstimulation, reluctant feels, thomas shelby please have emotions?? please?? LMAO, irresponsible beta read we die like real men

summary ; thomas warms you up on a cold morning in the office.

word count ; 2.5k

a/n ; yaaall im so sorry this took so long! requests will be open soon <3 love u all, thank you so much for the support!

The morning started as any other would - A strike of a match, a sip of whiskey here and there, and keeping the curtains shut despite the assaulting sunlight. Thomas' temples pulsed, heart flooding his ears as his thumbs rubbed the aching space, elbows resting on his desk. He glared down at the neat stack of papers, cursing himself for organizing everything simply to avoid actually reading through them all. In truth, he drank far too much last night. It coated his teeth, breath burning with expensive liquor as he grunted his way from bed.

Where had you gone? The few hours after the events of the night prior gave way for many opportune moments to escape; Flee in the dark, tell the secrets you learned in sharp whispered turned toward your family. And yet as he watched you leave in the warm morning sun caught his breath. He could not put to words the affect your body had on him, simultaneously intoxicating and ruthelessly sobering. Come to your fucking senses, Thomas.

He watched you slide your clothes over your bare skin, back turned toward him as you dressed yourself quietly. You were careful to collect your things, move them closer towards the door to silently redress yourself and scramble home - Maybe leave a note? You were unsure, hand swimming amongst the fabric of your thick jacket. You could leave a note, though he had enough papers on his desk already; Perhaps a sketch? Your ridiculous yet compelling idea was cut off as the shift of the wooden panels beneath your feet shifted, steps padding toward you in a slow practiced manner.

The fire still crackled quietly as you turned, holding your folded jacket over your bare chest as he approached you slowly, lips slightly ajar. Thomas dawned his undershirt, buttons loosely undone, sleeves rolled up and suspenders pulled tight over his wide shoulders. His slacks were wrinkled, unbuttoned, hair ruffled. Surely he had to know how he practically oozed sex appeal, ciggarette hung between his index and middle finger as he sauntered closer. You could nearly feel his breath against your own when his steps came to a stop, eyes gliding over your shifting expression.

"Terribly cold this early in the morning."

Thomas murmured faintly, voice crackling with the veil of exhaustion that still shackled him. The sun had hardly passed through the clouds that stuffed the morning sky, clogging the sunrise with a thick shadow. The light in the room shifted, the sun caked in pillowed clouds. He was right. You were awfully cold. Steadily, you dropped the coat from your hands - You hadn't gotten far in getting dressed, only able to pull on your underwear and socks before Thomas caught you. Was that correct to feel like you had been caught? You wondered how long he'd been watching.

"Are you cold, Mr.Shelby?"

You asked, hands reaching forward for your palms to meet his chest. It was sturdy, his eyes following yours, blinking slowly as his arms moved to instinctually draw you closer. One arm hooked around your middle, the other that still held the ciggarette over your shoulder. With a shake of his head, his palm rubbed your back in small circles. It was warm, thawing the rising goosebumps that gardened over your body.

Your heart pounded as you pressed against him. Just his touch was enough to send swimming waves of new sensations through you. You wanted his touch - wanted to cling to him in a way that was almost desperate. But the warmth he offered was not the only kind you wanted; You wanted to burn. You wanted his fire, his passion, his heat. You wanted to feel his teeth and his nails. You wanted him to consume your meaning, take your mind and bend it to something you could never begin to imagine.

He was more dangerous now to you than ever. No amount of guns, no explosions or bloodshed would quite tear you down as much as the look in his eyes in this moment. Recognition. Understanding. It felt real, you wanted so badly for it to all be real, to be - In love. To try, atleast.

You should have run the moment he set his eyes on you. Far away, further than he could ever find you.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke clouding his expression as he leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You shied away from the sudden contact, but he only pulled you closer.

“Come here.” His voice was rough with exhaustion, yet still commanded a cold respect. You could feel yourself being drawn in ever-closer to his warmth, his strength, his presence. You couldn’t help but lean into it; To yearn for it. The cigarette dangled casually from his lips, a small puff of ash falling to the floor before he plucked it, flicking it away from you in a quiet movement. He didn't even bother to glance where it landed as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You were trapped within the grasp of desire, both the desire to run and the desire to give in. To fall from the world, let it slide away as his hands caught your hips, unwavering and strong. He didn't need to stronger and bigger than you, there was no threat. You didn’t need to be afraid. His lips were gentle, tasting of smoke and whiskey. You pressed back, feeling a burst of heat racing throughout your body; His lips tasted the same as the night prior, yet the gentleness of his pace was in stark contrast to it. In a slow shift, your hands gripped the loose collar of his shirt, keeping him close. He took slow breaths between the slow kiss, eyes lulling open to admire you in a half lidded gaze before letting the fall shut, leaning in once more. It was nearly like he was fighting himself; His urges, how they so tightly clutched his mind, binding him to you like an altar, worshipping you with his hands as they fell and swept over your curves.

The kiss enraptured you, and then it was gone. His hands remained on you, coming to a slow pause on your hips as his eyes darted to meet yours - Thomas Shelby didn't hesitate, so why now? You pursed your lips slightly, as if trying to relive the feeling of his own pressing against them.

"This evening, Charles Alabastor will be having a private party at his estate; I'd like you to accompany me. Seeing as your family will be invited."

Your throat dried - Business. There was always the bitter tang of it, lingering the sips of whiskey and rough drags of rolled tobacco. Even you could feel it, wishing to kiss every inch of that taste, relieve him from the weight of it. Though you knew all too well, even as his palm held your cheek, patience would surely reward you.

"I'm not sure I have anything to wear."

There it was again, the small buckle of praise pulling at the corners of his lips as his hand swept from your cheek towards your collar bone. The backs of his fingers were cold, gently brushing over your warm skin as he gave a low shake of his head.

"You're unsure about quite a bit."

Had Thomas Shelby just mused at you? You nearly couldn't belive it. The man who ran Birmingham stood with you in the dark of his office, hair ruffled and a smile on his face - Playfully bickering with you? You couldn't help but mirror the expression, eyes darting down to the floor with a quiet sigh. Maybe that comment had been a last ditch effort to get away, a final subconscious excuse to not to fall; And if you did fall, atleast do it while running, not in his arms, urging for him to become impossibly closer to your body.

It was a feeble attempt.

"I may have something."

"Something is good."

He was a quick one. The more you spoke, the more he did in turn, bouncing from your energy without missing a beat in that cold voice. The draft of his tone came with the presence of his smile, warming the corners of his words as his hands pressed to your hips once again, pulling you closer. You caught yourself then - You wanted to know him. To know what makes him tick, how he takes his tea, who he loves and cherishes, who he'd die for. Was it so wrong? You could see it, somewhere beneath the surfaces of his sharp gaze, to be wanted. Or maybe just held. Perhaps that would do for now, you thought.

Thomas accepted your head leaning against his chest, holding you to his body now with a slow sway. It felt almost like dancing, the creak of the floorboards underfoot making way for a deep symphony, rooting itself in your mind as you matched his pace. Intimacy, the only word you could use to describe the moment as your bare chest pressed to his, your heartbeat rushing in tune. Percussions crashed as you lifted your head, love letters written themselves in your mind, sealed when your lips met his once more. He accepted this as well, eyes falling shut and fingers instinctively slipping to your thighs. He squeezed slowly, taking his time to feel you, understand how you moved against him - This is why he waited. Thomas wanted to experience you.

Your heart thrummed as his grasp pulled you towards his now moving body, stepping backwards and leading you to his bedroom - It was small, a temporary place to sleep during late nights at the office, yet none of it mattered as your back met the mattress. You swallowed, throat drying at the sight of his back turned to you, closing the door with one hand and shrugging off his suspenders with the other. His shoulders were wide, the white undershirt tightening over his body as he pulled his over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he turned. His gaze met yours in a silent beat, eyes lulling over your body, savoring it's vulnerable pose - And in a slow movement, he was on the floor before you. It felt wrong, reversed; Yet even as he knelt before you, he was in control. As his fingers worked your stockings down your legs, stark blue eyes pinning you to the spot as his rough palms groped over your thighs. You watched, legs opening for him slightly with a hitched breath, cheeks flushing. Last night, he hadn't gotten this close, this intimate - Yet as he pushed a warm kiss to the inside of your thigh, it began to melt away. His tongue slid greedily over the skin, teeth nipping as he traveled lower, going to gently rub your heat over your underwear with his thumb. He moved in slow circles, pressing into the cotton as his teeth sunk into your flesh with a quiet groan. You shuddered quietly, hips rocking into his thumb as your eyes stayed on his expression - It was as if work never existed. Business was a waste of time in comparison to simply tasting you. The budding warmth of his tongue replaced his thumb, soaking the underwear with a teasing chuckle. It was unexpected, riddled with a distinct darkness, his teeth pulling at the waistband - It was slow. Agonizingly slow as he pulled down steadily, keeping his eyes on yours until your damp underwear hit the floor.

Thomas' mouth was always warm when he kissed you, yet the heat that spread through your veins as he pressed his lips to your clit, a fire began to light itself deep within you. Your back arched instinctually, body shifting over the mans creaking mattress as you attempted to draw him closer to you. Your hands slid over his shoulders, threading through his hair as you sighed softly, content with the tease of what was to come. His tongue began slowly at first, the flat of it sliding obscenely between your folds as a pace that demanded your absolute attention. You could feel the tip of his tongue prod lightly against your entrance, dragging it until it reached your clit once again, lips wrapping over it with a pleased hum. You took in a sharp breath, hips flinching as your legs made a weak attempt to close them, the feeling of his teasing edging closer to a sparking pleasure you knew all too well. But not even a moment after you moved, his large hand came to palm at your thigh, pinning it down roughly to the bed; His eyes were closed, focused on the taste of you on his now lashing tongue, other arm hooking over your opposite hip to keep you in place despite your growing writhing.

The fire grew, each whip of his tongue against your clit stoking the insatiable flames that knashed at your body. It was electric. Nearly impossible. New to you, the sensation of a man like him knelt before you, messily lapping up anything you were willing to give him, letting your arousal run down his chin and jaw. The noises he drew from you were angelic, sliding through the fogging air as sweat dewed on Thomas' brow; In contrast, the sound of his tongue invading your body and mind was obscene. Messy, saliva stringing from his tongue as he groaned deeply against your sensitive body. The fire sparked dangerously, hot coals threatening to spill over the edges of what you could control - It would set the whole city ablaze, surely. You gave a sharp yelp as his fingers moved to spread you open, diving as deeply as you would allow him, tongue darting in and out as you wrenched your eyes shut tightly. It was a hot white flash, body and mind numbing as Thomas moaned on, perhaps even murmuring to himself into your soaked cunt as you came on his lips and tongue, rolling your hips with a drawn out mewl.

A strike of a match brought you to, eyes sliding open quickly as sweat rolled down your temple - Though upon seeing Thomas beside the rather empty bed you relaxed yourself slightly. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, a book sat open on his naked lap as his eyes fell to yours; You must have fallen into that blanketing heat, letting it drape over your shoulders in something near an embrace. The chaste expression on Thomas' face was soft, lacing in his furrowed brow as he moved to pull his glasses from his nose. He set them on the small desk in front of him, using his palms to rise from the wooden seat with a quiet grunt. Making his way to you came with a wave of smoke, the smell of his aftershave sharp on your senses as he took a slow seat beside you.

"I found the perfect thing for you to wear."

It was not a request anymore - Hesitantly, you felt yourself give a slight nod as his large hand came to hold your cheek. He mirrored the motion, nodding back to you as his thumb met your chin, lifting your head to find your gaze in the quiet moment.

"Will you accompany me?"

As Thomas spoke your hand met his, fingers intertwining with a soft hum - You wanted so badly to feel it. To step into a room by Thomas' side, dawning clothing perfectly made for you, eyes glued to the pair of you as he wore a smugly proud expression. Yet you knew deep down what it was, and what it had to remain; Business. Though dwelling in your imagination pillowed with the feeling of his lips on your own drew a response.

"Of course."

#bowies fics #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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#OH MY GOD #OHHHH MY GODDDD #gen v #gen v cast #jordan li #london thor #derek luh

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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I had to take a piss test for a job I got hired at today, and this is the name of the fuckin company that makes the tests

#bowies silly tag

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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If there is a god, Swear to god it's me

I almost managed to escape the mental claw of obsession for Homelander....Sadly, I was promptly dragged back into madness by the lovely @witchyclispe and @blindmagdalena Anyway, have this totally normal drawing of Homelander, because I am very, very normal about him.

#pretty colors!!!@#homelander fanart #homelander #blindmagdalena #cozy corner tag

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 1

i know i haven't posted in like a year, and this is a huge shift from my usual writing, but i cannot express how jordan li has captured my heart and soul. this is definitely going to be a good number of parts, and will also definitely have some smut in there.

word count: 1912

The Lamplighter School of Crimefighting is your home away from home on the GodU campus. Being Professor Caldwin’s TA is almost a full-time job, and in addition to classes and training and homework, most days you are in Caldwin’s office more than your own dorm room. Not that you mind, really. It’s the sort of job that will really set you up later in life - Caldwin knows everyone - and anything is better than listening to your roommate try and go viral on TikTok for the 30,000th time. And Caldwin’s a nice guy, in his own way.

“L/N.” The gruff call from his actual office resounds over the little foyer your desk sits in.

Scooting back from your seat, you get up and walk the few steps between your desk and the doorway, hovering at the frame. “Professor?”

Caldwin sits at his own desk - a big, antique wooden thing that’s probably older than anything else in this building - hunched over in front of a desktop computer that’s far too sleek looking for the desk it sits on. Frustration radiates out from him like rays of the sun. Stupid fucking computer… swear they make these things difficult for people my age on purpose… snippets of his thoughts play in your mind without prompting - your superpower passively picking up his most prominent feelings. Of course, if you wanted, you could really focus and read his mind fully (even talk to him telepathically), but that was a boundary you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cross. He is your professor - and boss - after all.

Peering over the top of his glasses, Caldwin blinks at you, gathering a stack of papers to his left. “Bring these over to Brink, will you? If he’s busy you can just leave them with his TA, it’s nothing classified.”

You step into his Caldwin’s office fully, and take the stack of papers from him. It’s a hefty thing, so you tuck it under your arm. “Will do.”

“And while you’re out and about, get me another cup of coffee from the staff room. Two sugars-”

“Two sugars, two pumps of hazelnut, one splash of cream.” You say, already heading out the door. You’ve had his coffee order down since he hired you at the beginning of your sophomore year. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you.” Gonna take a hammer to this stupid fucking-

His thoughts cut off abruptly as you walk out of range, heading into the halls of the Crimefighting building. Students fill the space, coming and going from classes, sitting in the chairs near the floor to ceiling windows busy on their laptops, loitering around as they chat with their friends. You purposefully focus on your own goal - Brink’s office, and then the staff break room to make Caldwin another coffee - to force the cacophony of thoughts down. The audible chatter, in addition to the telepathic noise, would have been enough to make you scream a few years ago, but classes at GodU have lived up to your expectations - they’re hard, but worth it, to get your power under control.

Brink’s office is across the building from Caldwin’s, a more luxurious room with lots of natural light and a good view of the campus green. You’d only really ever been in there on Caldwin’s instructions - Brink had only been your professor once, your freshman year, and you’d been too scared of his reputation to actually go to his office hours. Still, it was easy to find, and when you tried the door, it was open.

The foyer of Brink’s office is much larger than the space in Caldwin’s and you find yourself a little jealous - it would be nice to sit at a desk here. You look first to the doors leading into his actual office, and find them closed. You turn to the figure sitting at the desk, and ask, “Is Brink busy right now? I have papers from Caldwin for him.”

The girl at the desk - pretty, with stark black hair that just reached her jaw and big brown doe eyes - just stares at you for a moment before responding. “Yeah, he’s on a call, actually.” Her voice is smooth, a little deep, and not what you expected at all.

“Oh, alright, I can just-” You start, only to be interrupted by a wave of lust.

Goddamn. Smash. The things I wouldn’t do to get between those legs… wow. Those legs. How have I not run into YOU before? I mean really, surely I would have noticed the hottest person alive on campus - especially here, in my goddamn department. Fuck.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. You balk. “Um. Sorry. Yeah, it’s not anything classified so Caldwin said I could just leave it with you,” You untuck the stack from under your arm and pass it towards Brink’s TA. Her fingers brush over yours as she takes it, and for a split second, you can feel just how much you were affecting her - the wave of horniness hit you like a bus. The feeling lingers as you take your hand away, and you’re unable to tell if it’s leftover from her or your own reaction. Maybe a bit of both.

She sets the papers down on her desk beside her without looking, too busy smiling at you. “I’m Jordan, by the way.” She says. “I take it your Caldwin’s TA?”

“Yeah.” You say. “Y/N.”

Y/N. That’s a nice name. Very screamable.

You fight the urge to do anything but smile. Just looking at her, you would have never guessed such wanton thoughts would come from such a tiny girl, but never judge a book by its cover, right?

“Nice to meet you Jordan.” You continue, careful to keep your voice steady, even. Casual. Not like you can hear every piece of want cross her mind.

I bet you’d sound good screaming my name. I need to stop - I don’t even know you. I need to get laid, my god. Down tremendous and I JUST learned your name.

The image of you and Jordan together - tangled up in unfamiliar bedsheets, Jordan’s mouth latched onto your neck as you moaned in pleasure - crosses Jordan’s mind, and yours by extent. For, as she said, having just met you, it was a surprisingly good imaginary version of yourself. Though, she is looking right at you. It would be hard to get any details wrong when you were standing right there.

Would you let me? Maybe if I was in the other form-

Before you had time to wonder what that meant, she’s changing before your eyes, rearranging skin and bone until an entirely different person is sitting at the desk. A man - taller, broader, but just as pretty and with the same big brown eyes. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because Jordan laughs, a smile stretching across their face.

“Sorry.” They say, leaning forward to rest their elbows against the desk. “It’s just that I have two faces, so I didn’t want you to get confused if some random dude was waving at you cause I forgot you only met me as a girl.”

“That’s a pretty cool power.” You say, and then, with your mind, “And a pretty good reason to show it off. I mean, for something you came up with on the fly anyway.”

You watch their eyes widen as they realize that you’re in their head, and then their cheeks flush red as they remember what they were thinking about not moments before. “So you’ve just been hearing-?”

“Yeah.” You say..

“I am so sorry-” They start, shifting back into their female form.

“No, it’s okay.” You say, a laugh on the edge of your lips. “I promise it’s fine, I mean, you didn’t know I was listening in and it’s your thoughts you can’t like, help it. And it’s not the first time-”

I bet, looking like that. Fuck. Pretend I didn’t think that. I’m sorry. Jordan buries their head in their hands with a groan. “Sorry.”

You let out a full laugh at that. “It’s okay, I promise. Please don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s fine. It’s flattering, if anything. I mean, you’re pretty good looking yourself. Not that you’re only hot, I mean - I’m sure you’re nice too.” You pause. “That came out a little wrong.”

Jordan smiles. “It’s okay. I mean, you basically get a free pass to do whatever you want to be since I’ve been…” They trail off. In their mind, …objectifying you. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me anyway, but… fuck. Sorry.

You smile again. “It’s okay. Promise.” You lean forward across the desk a little, getting closer without getting too close - you have just met after all. The smell of smokey cologne fills your nose, and causes more butterflies to swirl in your stomach. They really are hot. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jordan leans in too. “Sure.”

“Most guys, when they figure out that I can hear them lusting after me, aren't even apologetic.” You say. “So it’s sweet that you are. Charming, even.” It’s true - which is why you don’t usually bother playing into people’s lustful thoughts, but Jordan…

Okay. Okay, it’s not a big deal, it’s fine. “Would you want to hang out?” Jordan says, a little rushed, like they’d been waiting for an opportunity. “Sometime? We could train, or something…” Please say yes. You don’t have to say yes. I really want you to though.

You think about it for a moment. You don't usually say yes to these kinds of questions, especially after hearing the person's ulterior motives, but… Jordan seems nice, nice enough to genuinely feel bad about their thoughts once they realized you could hear them. And they are hot, objectively, in both forms.

“Yeah, I’d be down to hang out.” You say, reaching into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your phone. “Can I-?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Jordan pulls their own phone out clumsily, handing it to you.

You put your number in with a smile, and take the liberty to add a little emoji heart at the end of your name before you hand it back to them. “Should I text you, or are you going to text me?”

I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried. “I’ll text you.” Jordan says, glancing down at their phone. “A heart?”

“You don’t think so?”

No, no. No it’s great, I'm never going to change it. “A little fast, no?” They say.

You smile, and inject your voice into their head. Liar. I’ll see you later Jordan.

Before they can say anything else, you turn and leave, throwing one last glance at them over your shoulder. They don’t even try to pretend that they aren’t staring.

Butterflies swarm your stomach as you make your way back through the halls. You can’t remember the last time being in someone’s head made you like them more rather than less, but Jordan… sweet, apologetic Jordan. It’s exciting, in a way, knowing what they were thinking about you, and knowing that despite the fact that you know, they still want to hang out. You check your phone, even though it’s not even been a minute since you left. Sure enough, a text-

what are you doing tmrw from like 2-4

You type out your reply: hanging out w u probably

You almost forget to get Caldwin’s coffee on the way back.

#SOOO UNDERRATED #bowies fic recs #gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #the boys #derek luh #london thor

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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we also got hoffman bong rip

#bowies comfort tag #I GIGGLED #high posting #saw movies #saw 3d #saw fanart #saw franchise #sawposting #saw 7 #saw the final chapter #saw x #detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman #slashers #horror

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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Peaky Blinders Season 4 | Episode 1

#peaky blinders #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #endless gifs #BARKING

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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#comfort characters #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #endless gifs

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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thank you all so much for the endless support !! <3

for this little milestone i wanted to do a mini poll to see what you guys would be interested in my account having in the future!

#thank you all so so much!#big thanks to the cozy corner specifically #they really helped me with my writing and made me confident enough to post here :)#anywho #feel free to vote!#unexpected chapter 2 is in the works #hehehe #bowies silly tag #bowies polls

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staarboyyy · 6 months

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unexpected evening - chapter i [ next. ]

thomas shelby x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; intoxication, spanking, grinding, pleasure denial, thomas shelby being a bitch, smoking, masturbation, facial, cumplay if u squint, explicit consent, power imbalance

summary ; the shelby's and your family have worked together for quite some time. when your mother made a bold move against the lead shelby brother, you took to going to apologize personally.

work count ; 6.3k

a / n ; been working on this for a loong time, please enjoy !!

Your name wasn't something that spurred an immediate taste on Thomas' tongue, his eyes set forward on the wall before him. With a slight clench of his jaw, he sucked back a sharp inhale between his teeth, fingers tapping the armrest of his office chair before standing. The Shelby's and your family of course had gotten on as time passed - Yet the woman; What was her name? Thomas clicked his tongue, eyes lulling over his empty office, smoke hazing the air around him and the light of the street lamps sweltering though the window. Rain gently patted onto the smudged glass, thunder snarling a few miles away. Whatever her name was - She got too bold, sensitive threats as they sat across from each other in the Garison - She swirled her whiskey, ice clinking against the glass as she spoke through red painted lips. Something about wanting to work with him during the races; Thomas was drunk. All he could really remember was the roll of the barrel of her pistol before she set it onto the table. An offer - A challenge. With a shift of his jaw the irish man stubbed his ciggarette, muttering quietly to himself as he turned on his heel. A knock at the doorframe caused his breath to hitch slightly, eyes moving to gaze at you. He'd seen you at a few estate parties, a race here and there; Yet he wondered if you had any say in the vague testimony the mysterious woman produced only hours prior - The more he looked at you, the more you resembled her.

"Here again?" He began, clearing his throat with a sharp sigh. "Quite late to come by for a bet,"

A tinge of anxiety rose in the back of your mind as his low voice slid through the air between you. Perhaps you had gotten too bold, too overconfident in your attempts to get Thomas Shelby's attention. The last time you had even spoken had been months ago— and that was only when you'd met Thomas at one of the Garrison's celebrations, introduced by your mother. The dots seemed to come together as his eyebrow twitched upwards slightly; You were her child. Of course.

"Avoiding the crowd; Heard detectives were prowling around recently."

"No crowd,''

Thomas pulled the small curtain with his index finger, peering slightly into the night streets - There were the average stragglers, children running barefoot in the rain while Jeremiah preached aimlessly. With a slight shake of his head, his eyes returned to yours. His coat hung over the back of his office chair, his waistcoat unbuttoned and first few buttons of his collared shirt undone; The smell of whiskey was thick in the air, clashing with the smoke as the gentle thud of Thomas's shined shoes tapped against the creaking floor. As he padded towards you, his hand moved to grab a glass from his desk, eyes unmoving as he drank the rest of the amber liquor with ease. With a sharp inhale through his teeth, his cleared his throat again, setting the glass down as he raked his fingers through his damp hair. He had been out in the rain, drops still rolling down his jaw and spots scattered on his shirt. It was a hard night, and the idea of putting his feet up seemed to always be diminished. No breaks, not for a Shelby.

"What do you know about detectives, aye?"

Thomas asked, expression nearly vacant as his low drawn out tone caught the air, squeezing the truth from it. After his voice wrung the oxygen of the room, his eyebrows furrowed briefly, chin tilting up slightly. The words hung in the air, swaying back and forth like a pendulum as Thomas cocked his head - His eyes moved away from you, raising a brow and parting his lips.

"...I came to apologize for my mothers behavior."

"Doesn't matter." The words were dismissive, shaking his head and blinking away any sign or glint that might have hinted otherwise. It was clear he had struggled with losing Grace, drowning himself in paperwork and expensive liquor; The walls weren't exactly thin, but they didn't have to be. Not with the way Thomas chose to take his stress out on women. With a grunt, he sat back down in his seat, casually pulling a small silver container. As he flipped it open, he cast another glance towards you.

"Things like that happen - Just business."

As Thomas brought a ciggarette to his lips, he brought his elbows forward to lean against the desk with an audible creak. He wasn't in the mood to talk about work, yet as he struck the match and held it under the tip of the ciggarette, his mind waded back to the Garison. Evangeline. Thomas waved the match in his hand, flame fizzling out before he dropped it onto the desk.

"Your mother," He began, sighing out a breath of smoke as he straighted his posture. "Is quite the bold woman." Thomas's attention dipped to the chair in front of the desk, nodding towards it with a quiet hum.

"Yes. She means well, even if it doesn't exactly come off that way," You spoke, trailing off and holding yourself straight even as you felt Thomas's gaze on you. You couldn't deny that he was right— Your mother was a bold woman. Bold to the point of stupidity. You had long since given up on your mother's schemes or dreams; Thomas was right—they were just business, nothing more, nothing less.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"I wouldn't know what to choose," Your eyes slid hesitantly toward the small cart, littered with bottles of expensive liquor. "Can I smell them?"

"If you want to burn your nose, have at it."

The words came in a murmur, both hands wiping over his face before he gave a slow exhale - His eyes cast over his shoulder, glancing towards the files. It was nothing more than an instinctive move, his gaze darting around the area whenever another person joined the room.

The first bottle met Thomas' words, ringing them true as the alcohol burned angrily into your nostrils. The undertone was harsh, like cologne and chemicals; It fit Thomas quite well, something he would drink after working on his car or freshly rolling cigarettes. It was the fullest of the three, perhaps saved for special occasions.

The second wasn't as strong, cinnamon and gasoline clashed together in waves of blood searing warmth. The bottle felt heavier than the first one despite looking similar - The glass was pristine, ghosts of finger prints wrapping over it.

The third was the strongest, casting searing blades of scents and fierce aromas violently sinking into your senses. It smelled like oil, something that'd be scraped off a persons shoe before entering someone's home. Your hand outstretched to the least toxic smelling one, the second bottle set gingerly on Thomas' desk.

Thomas gave a slow chuckle, deep and drawn out as his large hand wrapped over the second bottle. It was fine choice, an aged rum that stumbled down the throat in a rough tingling path. He slid a small glass from the corner of his desk, skillfully pouring two fingers of the rum before leaning back, bottle still in hand. The moment was silent, yet the typical tense nature of meetings seemed to soften at the swmming warm feeling of the liquor hazing Thomas' understanding the situation. He wasn't drunk, but the tipsy feeling caused his lips to move without consulting his mind first, voice rolling out in a sharp question as his eyes moved to the desk once more. You accepted the glass with a slight nod, taking a seat across from the other as you looked at the liquor with an unsure expression. Hesitantly, you took a sip - It was hard to swallow once the flavor lashed at your mouth, assaulting your throat with a heinous burn. You kept your urge to cough at bay, silence meeting you both.

"Do you want to fuck?"

The tone of the question didn't carry the nature of the words properly. How his heavy lidded eyes seemed to scrape over the paperwork with a distinct sense of annoyance, before lulling back toward you with a glint of something far off - Something oddly lazy in how he leaned himself back so casually in the chair, tongue meeting the bottle before his lips wrapped over it, tossing a fair swing back before setting it down hard onto the table with a hard thump. He gritted his teeth, jaw tilting upwards as the fierce liquor slid down his throat in a weighted mass, ravaging every inch of skin in it's way. His ring clad hand slid over his desk, index finger pulling the container of ciggarettes closer towards him before going to pick one delicately from the case. As he perched it between his lips, his other hand had already clutched a small box of matches. He struck one, eyes everlasting on you with an observatory gaze while he lit the ciggarette, smoke billowing from between his parted lips as he pulled a deep inhale.

"Because, if you do," He began, sighing the smoke from his nostrils. "It would complicate a few things." Despite his rumbled words, it seemed he had no care of what complications would come.

The smoke drifting into your nostrils was not as unpleasant as you might have thought. As your eyes adjusted to the faint light of the dimly lit office, you took a tentative breath in your seat, letting the scent of the room fill your lungs. Thomas Shelby, the man who had spent his time in the shadows of the law with a foot in the legitimate business world, his eyes trained on you with an observant, yet bored look, waiting for your response.

"Im not sure if you'd want to," You spoke with an attempt to match his cold confidence. There was a twining heat within you, an undercurrent of longing despite your slight decline to dissect the question given."It would make all this quite messy, I must admit."

"No," Thomas began with a low sigh, adjusting his posture while pulling the ciggarette from between his lips, spurring the smoke to flow from his nostrils. His voice was sharp, steadied as his gaze flickered towards you with an intent lift of his stubbled jaw.

"I didn't ask if I wanted to fuck you - I asked if you wanted me to fuck you. Two different things entirely."

The words were almost a - Snide correction? A type of teasing playfulness meant to belittle someone for answering incorrectly. It seemed the man was awfully familar with speaking to people like this; But much less familiar when receiving an answer he didn't... Not like? That wouldn't be right. If you didn't want to have sex with him, so be it. It'd be far less complicated to just splay the options out, deal the cards and letting them fall how they may. It made things easier, he supposed. Though he couldn't deny the prospect of taking you sent an odd shudder of pleasureable revenge down his spine. With a clench of his jaw, his eyes flicker between your eyes, as if the flashing images of you didn't begin to make his head spin ever so slightly. But, when you shifted the topic, he took the hint at face value. That wouldn't stop his racing mind sending blood coursing to places rather unholy - He was decent enough at hiding such things, wetting his lips before speaking.

"Pulling out a gun in my pub makes me awfully cautious," Thomas spoke, smoke drifting in and out from his lips as he drew the smoke down in scraping inhales. "I'm sure you understand if I'm protective over my property."

Thomas kept his gaze on you, pinning you to the seat with his eyes as he brought the ciggarette to his lips, taking a generous pull before letting his arm relax on the office chair. The creaking of the leather and clinking of glass was a familiar sound to the man, hand wrapping over the neck of the bottle of rum on his desk. He brought it to his lips, chasing the ciggarette smoke down his throat with the bitter tasting liquor; It sat in his abdomen with a stinging warmth.

"All this?"

Thomas quirked a brow, tilting his head and sucking in a sharp breath, and exhaling before gesturing his hand over the desk. He lazily held the ciggarette with the hand he used, a streaming ribbon of smoke following his grasp.

"What's "all this" to your mother, aye?"

All this - Vagueness responded with even more vagueness. Thomas brought the cigarette to his lips as he kept his eyes on you, attentively listening while smoke drifted from him. You were right, of course. All this was messy, all this was something that spurred people with a small tolerance of biting tongues and looking away. In his mind, your mother wouldn't last long. She's confident; Which is like holding a loaded gun to her own head. In any case, Thomas reluctantly breathed out a sigh of smoke, hand moving to brush at his stubbled jaw with a quiet hum. Your eyes trailed over the paperwork, taking in the scrawled words and notes laid out in haphazard ways. It was no wonder he ran a gang with all this on his plate. The sheer amount of paperwork would make anyone throw up their hands and give up.

"What she did was irrational - She has a temper."

"That we can agree on."

If you wanted to play this hunter and prey game of nonexplicit answers to direct comments, so be it. Agreeing on your mother's rather small temper, or that taking you over his desk would complicate things; That was for you to decide. Yet the blooming flushed pink on the pples of your cheeks gave away any guessing that Thomas had to do. It was just a matter of time in his liquor infested mind - Devising a plan to ravage you as if he were planning to take over an enemies industry. He kept it silent of course, kept it neatly tucked back in the stringing fibers that were now being plucked, producing a rather pleasing melody. Thomas listened to them, letting the ciggarette rest firmly between his lips as he folded his hands over his lap neatly.

"Why'd you come here so late?"

The question was sudden, moreso determined than the prior ones, he nearly cut your words off as he ambled on. He wasn't for playing games, let alone reading a persons mind; Yet it had been quite a long time he's had to tether himself to the idea of a goal. It will be mine - You will be mine. Thomas Shelby gets what he wants, when he wants it and he'd fight the devil himself if anything stopped that from happening. Anything. The goal, frivolous in nature, gave him something to focus on other than the amount of drowning paperwork and insufferable people. You were nice, came from a family that understood - All this? Thomas sucked his teeth. Maybe you have a point.

You let the silence hang as both of you sat on either side of the desk, watching each other. If you knew him better you would have noted how odd it was for him to be the one asking all the questions, for him to be so interested in you when he'd only ever heard about you from your mother. He was always the one with the plan and the secrets, pulling strings through half the city. What secrets were you carrying that he wanted to hear?

"I didn't come here for a bet," you answered him, taking a long breath as you considered your next words.

And there it was. Thomas didn't move a muscle, not even a twitch of the brow or clench of his jaw. It fell into place, just as he expected it to - The devil would see no fight today, but the things he would see would bring a new definition to sin entirely. Thomas leaned back in his chair slightly, going to grab the bottle. His golden ring gently clinked against the glass as he tossed back a hefty drink - The bottle was emptied. Rum; For fun and fucking. Thomas leaned forward onto the desk, plucking the ciggarette from his lips and ashing it into the worn in glass ash tray. Ends of ciggarettes created a small hill in the dish, and he pressed the freshly finished one deep into the mound. As he pulled his fingers back, ash shaded over the finger pads. He rubbed them together, inspecting the gritty feeling and odd smooth warmth of it as he tied his words together in a rumbling purr.

"Your family would reign hell on me."

It wasn't a warning as much as it was premonition for his belated movements, shifting in the leather chair before going to stand, leaning his weight onto the desk. He caught your gaze with his own, dirty finger tips rubbing over the paperwork underneath his hands, leaving smudges of ash. His eyes were dimly lit, half lidded and calm - So brutally calm. Yet as one of his hands crept towards his belt buckle, he took a sharp inhale through his nostrils, swallowing back the barreling questions and worries that swarmed the back of his mind. The business part. If you had chosen whiskey, perhaps that's all it would have been - A few simple deals here and there before offering to walk you home. Yet the bittersweet rum stuck to his gums like sin on a demons wings, spreading a firey desire that he relished in. It was similar to the stomach dropping noise of cocking a gun, feeling the cold barrel pressed to his temple with no pretense. Thrill of the chase. Of course he couldn't resist the searing appetite that now knashed hungrily as his hazey mind. He wanted to pull back his hand that now began to pull the metal of his belt, subconsciously making sure you saw his every movement. Bad idea, screamed in scrawled writing flashing over his vision - He was always one to ignore it. Especially when mixing rum and carnal desire. He should have known better.

"But I'm sure that's something you wouldn't mind. You wouldn't have come here otherwise," To see himself as a vessel at getting back at one's parents was a funny prospect. But there was a rather interesting ways to twist it - A dark way to warp the way he pulled the belt from his slacks with an audible drawn out slide of fabric on leather. "Unless you came here to make up for the disrespect your family brought into my pub."

Your head and eyes were glued to the way Thomas stood up and immediately flew to the space the man's hands were on his belt. Your attention was magnetized to his long fingers working at an almost teasing pace.

"...If there's anything I can do," Your words came pathetically, pursing your lips tightly.

As the belt was folded over, Thomas gripped the leather with fading knuckles. You being so willing did not come to his surprise; Yet the almost challenging tone sparked something in him. It sparked something he tended to bury in his subconscious - Thomas didn't abuse his power too much, but it was nearly impossible to resist such a delicious thing. His steps were calculated, letting the belt rest by his side, the buckle jingling with every agonizingly slow movement. Thomas was silent as he took a seat on a leather couch in the corner of his office, large thighs now spread open wide, the fabric of the slacks pulling tight over the muscle. He wet his lips, head tilting back to lean against the wall as he raised his free hand to pat his left thigh.

"Come here,"

The words did not attempt to hide the displacement of power, nor how he swam in the thickening waves of it with a twitching excitement. You would come to regret being so willing to serve - Nobody serves a Shelby without leaving with bruises. Thomas' expression twitched slightly, eyes on you with a deadly serious glare. It was no longer a cat and mouse game filled with vague comments and lasting gazes, no - This was business. And with business, came an immediate demand for respect. If you defied his orders, that placed you in a dangerous territory, it was written on his face, how his lips pulled up at the corners upon catching your expression. He relished in it. The shock and awe of realizing Thomas' power never left the room, suffocating the air people breathe and shaking the floor they walk on.

"Don't waste my time."

Thomas spoke in a low rasped whisper, eyes widening ever so slightly, giving a tilt of his head. The fingers on his thigh rapped against the muscle for a moment, tapping the index finger against his leg. Your eyes lingered on the unfinished glass of liquor before you for a fleeting moment before turning your head, glazing toward the man with a bitten lip. You stood from the chair with a slight creek, padding over and quickly sinking down onto your knees before the man.

"Open."

It was a simple response to the movement, eyes following the you as you lowered - He could imagine the bruises of the hard flooring upon hearing the soft thud of them hitting the space between his shined shoes. Thomas gripped the belt tightly, before letting his hand relax to move - Of course, achingly slow. His large fingers, skin rough and calloused, cupped your jaw. His thumb pressed down on the soft bottom lip, eyes flickering ever so slightly to your mouth. Inspecting a toy before use was his speciality - Eyes pushing over every inch of the person, making them shift themselves in vulnerable positions while he just watched. Perhaps smoke a ciggarette while he wordlessly keeps his eyes pinned on the clashing beauty of flesh and beading arousal; Thomas would only have the best.

His fingers were firm, expression partly vacant as he observed you with a watchful eye. His lips parted for a moment, tongue wetting them as his damned mind wandered. The warmth pooling in his stomach knashed angrily against his thighs and hands, demanding to move, demanding any form of friction - Though patience is a virtue. He knew that much. Thomas shifted forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he kept the eye contact locked into place. It was an expression that forced attention, a man with something to say in that impossibly smooth velvet tone that seemed to hypnotize even the darkest of sinners. Caught in his web, his large rough fingers pulling the strings and voice coaxing anyone daring enough to take the place you now did. Danger, is what this face screams. It rests in his carved cheekbones and bruising eyes, it weaves into the silver glinting in his hair and how he holds himself.

"You need to understand this isn't a drunk fuck."

Thomas whispered and tutted quietly. Clicking his tongue as the thumb still pressed down on your bottom lip twitched slightly.

"You need to want this; Prove it to me." Thomas had spoken more to you when you fell to your knees than when you simply sat in his office. It was almost funny - Almost. Yet the danger was there, of course. "Give me your word you want it."

Your mouth was dry, heart pounding against your chest; You didn't know what to say, the words tumbling from your lips without a second thought. Your mind could not tether to your thundering heart and flushed cheeks, not with the electric feeling of the man touching you becoming practically addicting.

"Please, Mr. Shelby, I want this."

The next few moments were a beat. A blur of Thomas's swift grip, able to shift and bend you over his lap - He pressed you down firmly, your stomach laying over his spread thighs. All that came from him was a grunt, sharp exhale, then the echoing sound of the clinking belt buckle. Another beat reached you, the smell of Thomas' cologne and bitter rum thick in the air as you both shuddered out breaths. He'd never admit this. Of course he wouldn't dare smile in a time like this, but the pull of his lips creased his expression, taking in the view of you splayed over his legs in a delicious display. He almost forgot the belt held over his shoulder, cast back ready to strike with a vicious crack of leather. His fingers shifted in his knuckle whitening in his grip as his eyes hung on this moment - Hung onto the shocked breathless image of you.

"I think I deserve a bit of reimbursement, don't you?"

An echoing soaring crack shattered the moment he gave you to register his words, spoken in a painfully casual tone. The leather collided sharply with your ass, the crack reverberating in the air.

Thomas stayed still for one moment, then another, then after an agonizingly slow one he gave a ghost of a chuckle. Exhaled through the nose with a belittling intent, as his eyes cast over your body, practically undressing you with his pinning gaze. Another sharp crack of leather gave no mercy, harder than before upon seeing your reaction to the sensation. It was hot as it made contact, despite the thin barrier of your clothes; The pain stung your bottom lashes, cheeks warming to a blooming flame that matched the one between your thighs. You couldn't speak, simpering into the leather of the couch in a feeble attempt to gather your reeling thoughts.

"You use your words in my office."

Thomas wanted it to be brutally clear that you were able to leave this entire time, and also able to change things you didn't want. Thomas didn't use people like you, this would be something he'd get high on, something to keep a secret, perhaps used later on. He bit his bottom lip, imagining being cursed out by your family or another meeting with your mother after finding out Thomas had brutalized their precious heir. Worst part of it all is they'd never know that he would be the one to make you beg with fleeting effortless actions.

"Respect me, and you'll receive the same." Thomas seemed to be dishing out rules, letting the thick belt slowly fall onto the couch, his large hand going to meet your clothed ass - His touch was hungry, the grasp of a man who takes for a living. A slow quiet exhale rolled from his lips as his hips shifted underneath you, clearing his throat softly. "Disobey, and I'll see to it you never set foot in Birmingham ever again."

A rocket of cold fear surged down your spine as he went on, hands exploring your body in motions that could only be described as an infection. His words lulling you into the palm of his hand, no matter the threats he brought, you craved them. A deeper part of you wanted to push him to his absolute limit, to see the dark veil roll over his eyes as he stares down at you - A ruler, a religion. He would make you worship at his feet before you even shed your clothes.

"I can only assume that well enough."

Thomas breathed the words with his eyes still glued to you, head tilting off towards the side with a quiet hum. Typically in this moment he knew he should shove you off with a harsh demand to stay gone - It'd keep him off your family's radar more than he already was; He damned himself for being weak, succumbing to temptation with the clashing haze of adrenaline, rum and - Arousal? To hell with it then.

Thomas' large hands now groped you shamelessly, jaw shifting as he traveled slowly, fingers hooking over the belted waistband of your slacks. Another wicked expression met him, eyebrows knitting together briefly as he kept this moment, drinking down every passing second. He could practically feel your pounding heart pressed against his thighs as one of his hands slid up your back, underneath your shirt and coat, the other pulling down your slacks and discarding them effortlessly.

Infectious; The word rang out in your mind like a gunshot through the night. He touched you like a common whore, calloused thumb swelling over your back with a slight bite of his lip. Thomas dared the world to let someone walk in, see him taking you over his knee with a nearly silent demand for not just respect, but for absolute submission. He didn't need a cocked gun or thick stacks of cash to keep the attention completely and entirely on him. He'd make you come back begging for more if it was the last thing he did. Thomas's palm was cold, rough and fingers calloused as he felt the warmth of your skin underneath his own, instinctively letting a slow pleased purr carry from his throat. It was not one of desire; A warning. A threat, perhaps.

"Proving it to me, though,"

Thomas began, his hand sliding over your back with slow waves, sweeping over it; Relishing in it.

"That would - Most likely convince me. We'll just have to see, won't we?"

Your breath drew inwards in shallow gasps, hips shifting subconsciously - You needed to be touched, to take him as he took you, your hands on his body that was so painfully clothed. Your hands gripped into tight fists, lips pursing for a brief moment as you prepared your words. You had to have to perfect, speaking scripture to the man who had immeasurable power; You had a say. Not just a say, the say. You gave the green light, even as his hands traced the most intimate parts of your body. He didn't have to touch your chest nor kiss at your neck, simply the way his fingers shifted from so cold and demanding to a gentle caress. A reminder that you were the one in control. With a breath, you spoke.

"I want to be yours."

"No."

With a shake of Thomas' head, he scraped back a sharp inhale, adjusting how he sat. His slacks left little to the imagination of how truly exciting this was - Though if you put up a feeble fight against him during this, it'd become all the more interesting. Thomas' explorative hand paused as he spoke, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked down at you with a quiet hum. If you wanted so badly to have him infect you mind and body, so be it; But it wouldn't be easy. Not for you atleast.

"You don't. Not without a carnal based response; I want to make myself clear."

A grunt came from him as he pulled his hands off you, gently posing you back to your previous position, sat between Thomas' shoes. His expression was soft, yet the glinting threat of his creasing brow gave no way for kindness. As his large hand moved to roughly grab your jaw, thumb and index finger squeezing his cheeks and drawing him forward, he leaned in. As your faces were only a few short inches apart, Thomas spoke slowly.

"You're not just going to do what I say because you're practically my whore for the night."

As his eyes flickered to your lips, he wet his own. A beat of thick tension weighed down on the pairs shoulders - Lean in and kiss them you fool, Thomas' mind screamed at him, and yet he shoved your face back roughly before leaning into the couch.

A flick of a match, the slide of a ciggarette case; And he sat, looking down at you with a heavy lidded gaze, smoke slithering from between his lips as he sat wordlessly. After a few long moments, Thomas' left foot twitched closer to your thighs, moving to slide the leather shoe between your legs, eyecontact unwavering. The single shoe alone couldn't have cost less than sixty pounds, and yet as the cool leather pushed into your needy cunt, none of it mattered.

"You're going to obey me because it drives you to an animalistic place. A place of pleasure; Sanctity. Am I understood?"

Let the game begin. You tried to bite back a pleased expression, eyebrows furrowing briefly as you wished he had atleast discarded your underwear. The barrier just made you grind down harder - Perhaps thats exactly what he wanted. To watch you turn yourself into something you've never seen, feel pleasure that would change you permanently. You brought yourself closer to his left leg, grinding yourself down onto the leather with a quiet moan, hands instinctually reaching to secure yourself on his slack clad leg.

Thomas' lip twitched; Just for a moment. It was subtle, a prick of his creased expression as he settled back into the couch, smoke drifting from his nostrils. His gaze was observatory, expectant and plainly bored. But there was something, there always had been. A certain spark, just like split second of the pulled smirk, something you did to please him. They were small reactions, little praise given in them at first. But if Thomas were anything, he would always have to be the adrenaline junkie. Taking in sharp breaths of smoke, head reeling as he rocked his shoe back and forth against you. His free hand began to move then, fingers twitching at first before sliding to his thigh, unzipping his slacks. All the while, his gaze stayed on you; You were his muse. How your body moved desperately below him, kneeling before him, mewling as you ground down onto the leather Thomas used to walk the town of Birmingham. Another smirk, lasting longer now as he thought of your family. He'd give any amount of money in the world to see them have one of theirs worshipping a Shelby. Thomas Shelby, no less.

Thomas' hand pushed past the band of his slacks, large palm wrapping over his length with a shaking inhale. He stroked himself over the cloth of his underwear, smirk still remaining, lazier as he continued. He matched the pace of how he rocked his ankle, rolling it into you with a bite of his bottom lip. He pressed the ciggarette to his mouth, perching it between his lips as both hands now worked to pull his cock from his pants entirely. The cool air hit his skin, palm wrapping over the length with a rumbling groan. He wasn't necessarily vocal during sex, though his mind wandered, fantasy coming to truth as his words and smoke ribboned together to be pulled from his lips.

"When was the last time you touched yourself,"

Thomas' steady tone wavered only for a moment as he spoke - It was pillowed with sharp breaths, using his left hand to slowly stroke himself, as the other reached to his mouth, pulling the ciggarette to rest between his index and middle finger. A noise rolled from him like a storm, thunder from miles away, pulled from his chest, pulled even deeper from the tension of his muscles - A groan, low and drawn out to carve itself into the air.

"Just before I came here,"

The sounds of his responding euphoria stirred warmly in your lower stomach, underwear dampening the leather of his rocking shoe as you moaned quietly; It pushed him to do the same, letting the gasps roll from his chest, head leaned back in a relaxed manner despite his hand quickening around his twitching cock. You wanted so badly to sit on his lap, lower yourself around him and hear his voice break, to hear him beg in the same way he made you. Your eyes were half lidded, flickering between his cock and expression - He kept eye contact as his eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolling back slightly as his hips stuttered forward into his fist, pace wavering. Sweat glazed his forehead, beading down his jaw and neck as he watched you get ever so closer to your peak. The sight of it would never leave him, watching your thighs twitch and spasm as you clutch onto his leg, aimlessly begging for him not to stop.

"Look at me -"

Thomas' voice was uncharacteristically strangled, edging on a pleading whimper as the stringing hot tangle in his body began to pull tighter, tighter. His mind spun with the image of you, hips unable to keep up with his pace as you rode out your shackling orgasm, tears brimming in your eyes. He was addicted to it, the high of watching your hazey mind be pushed to overstimulation, biting your lip as you kept your gaze on his.

Your expression drove him over the edge, throwing his head back as he came messily, rough palm wrapping tightly over the tip of his cock. His cum stained your face, his black slacks a mess as he took in ragged breaths, still teasing himself with his eyes wrenched shut. He whispered to himself quietly in Romani, swears tangling with your name as he released himself, hand shaking. His heart pounded against his chest, veins on the backs of his palms and forearms bulging as his eyes slowly opened.

You were leaned into his leg, taking in deep breaths as you hesitantly made eyecontact with the man above you; Despite the intimacy of the moment, you feared he would send you away. Tell you to get dressed, clean this mess up and see yourself out. Yet as his hand moved, shaking as it met your cheek, his warmth was evident. Your position shifted slowly at first, knees wobbling as you attempted to sit on the couch, but Thomas was quick to bring his arms around you. It was unexpected, allowing you to lean your pressure into his body as he gathered himself, fingertips still shaking even as they threaded through your touseled hair.

"Thank you,"

It was breathless. Soft, pillowed with a deep breath, the swell of his chest making way for a space you could lay your head on. You took the opportunity, and he allowed it, resting his chin on your head with a quiet hum.

Thomas was right. You would be back for more.

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