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It's been quiet at the Arrowhouse. The winter weather is biting and dry, but Tommy had been restless in his study during this freezing mor ning.
He has a habit of looking over and over at the paper he had wrote, hoping to find the tiniest miscalculation I'm his own grammar. He is a very tedious man, thorough, calculated and careful.
Most of your time spent with him before he started to court you by taking you to the horse races, buying you crystal kitchenware. He had given you more than enough money to look nice when you would want to show up at the Garrison.
But oh, he was very thorough when he found you restless under your sheets one slow, agonisingly empty, morning. He was planning on going to check on his assets, but when he walked back into your shared bedroom and saw you curled up under the sheets... it had made his hollow heart beat in contentment. Until the second he realised there was nothing cute about being curled into a Queen bed , alone most of all.
You shift restlessly, pulling the covers and the wool blanket right over your head.
And that made him move, he took a look at the fireplace and how it died out through the night. He ordered one of the maids to lit the fire again, which made you peek from under your covers once the fire crackled and the maids heels clicked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
"You're in a gentlemanly mood today it seems" you chime, smiling a little despite the fact your teeth are almost clattering.
"I'm responsible for you, so I do what I'm supposed to. There's no use of a frozen wife." He said dryly, clanking open his lighter on to lit up his cigarette.
He grabbed an ashtray and took off his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed as he peers under the blankets at you.
"Like a squirrel hiding, I should bring you nuts and handfeed you," he said as he laid on his side and smoked slowly, watching you wiggle your frozen nose like a squirrel searching for food would.
"You're calling me fluffy and cute." You retort, raising an eyebrow at the unusual softness he emits. "You're planning something... I can feel it. You've that look in your eyes,"
That makes his eyes lock onto your face for a moment. His hand brings up the cigarette to his lips and he exhales the smoke upwards, letting it curl into the cold air. He had always known you took your time with his habits. You had been dissecting them with softness which spears through the armour he proudly wears.
"I don't need a plan to think of when I look at you. Is it forbidden I look at you with an empty mind?" He questions, tapping the excess ash off the tip of the orange glow.
"Mm, not quite my point. It's very rare you just sit and exist here with me." The reply came softer through the room as the air starts to warm up, allowing you to stretch and for the covers to fall around your torso. "I don't hate it, not at all."
He watches the slope of your neck and your cleavage as you stretch, the smoke from his lips spilling with no effort around his face.
"I'm usually a very busy man, busy men make sure you're warm and protected, not spoiled." He hums, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray and leaving it on the nightstand. Then he turns towards you again. "I don't have time to do both, most of the time."
"I'll get jealous of the ledgers, Tom. You know that I deserve more attention than the ink on the paper." You reach to brush his hair out of his face, gently touching his cheek with tenderness he would rather die than admit he craves.
War hardened this man, physically, mentally and emotionally. It's hard for him to just let go, even if he does trust you. You don't blame him, nobody really did. Not when Johnny and Arthur are in many ways similar to his guarded-ness.
"You get jealous of a vvhisky (hehe) glass when my lips drink from it." He rasped, moving closer to you with a heavy arm around your waist. "I'm a jealous man, yes, but you're something else. Do I ogle you like that? I don't think so."
"Oh you and your composure. I'm your wife, you're allowed to say things to my face instead of holding back." You're warm in the face already, the heat of him is palpable through the covers and it's trifold as warm as the air of the warming room.
He huffs in exasperation, he knew it was logical, but still, he'd never really been keen on dirty talk and ogling. If he wanted you, he would show it in the way you couldn't mistake it for something else. He was an intense presence, therefore everything he did usually left a thread of his intensity on it.
Being Tommy Shelby is no small task.
"Mmm, I'd ask you if you knew and did as much as I do." He whispers as he prowls atop of you, leaning down to kiss your jaw, then your neck.
"I'm not complaining, Tommy" you sigh, leaning back against the silk pillows as his hands hold him above you. "I like it sometimes or actually... most of the time. But forgive me for needing something softer at times. I know that you don't really do soft and I might be wanting something unrealistic given your past..."
"Shh, shh, I can be gentle when I try. You know me enough to know it's not my default, I could try to return the favour of... staying in the moment for the sake of feeling it, not just the bodily need for it." His voice is lower, softer as he unclasped your buttons, kissing lower from your jaw and neck.
He's not soft, but for you he can try to be, even if doing it means that his whole nervous system feels like it's on fire.
Your fingers thread through the back of his hair, your gasps gentle puffs of hot air in the mellow room. He's fully clothed still, but he's kissing you as he leaves your chest bare by undoing your night gown.
"Tom.." you croon his name as he takes the gown off your shoulders and let's it bunch at your waist.
"Yes, moll*?" He murmurs before he leans down to kiss your sensitive nipples
"Ah, tom--" your voice hitches softly as you feel the wet warmth of his mouth around you'd sensitive peaks.
His hands are already undoing his long sleeved button up, allowing his frame to move more freely as he pulled down the covers off of you.
"It's cold.." you gasp for the warmth of the covers, your hand instinctively reaching out before he pushed it down against the mattress.
"There's fire burning and here I am. You won't be cold for long."
He's patient this time, unhurried in the way she shrugs off his shirt on the bed, he's too much of a clean freak to drop it on the floor. His warm chest presses down on you and suddenly the cold air had been replaced by a man who's body is burning against yours.
You initiate the kiss, pressing your lips against his with fervour. Yet he's the one who deepens it, your teeth clashing as he pushed your head back in the sheets, domineering the air in the room.
There's very little courage in you to defy his dominance, so you can only lay thereand melt under him as he gives you what youve been needing and takes what he starves for.
His hands, as they pull your gown and your damp knickers simultaneously, over your thighs and knees towards your ankles. With a fluid move he unbuttoned his trousers, slipping out of them before he's back on you.
You help him discard his under shirt, then his underwear. He's kissing you lower, over your breasts, stomach, hips to your inner thighs, and finally clit. He gives it a few gentle pecks, then his tongue flattened, licking up the slick between your folds.
"Holy- tom.." you gasp , hands tangling in his hair from the earthshaking pleasure he delivers on your sensitive nerves.
"Patience, woman." He grumbles. His tongue is flicking from left to right on your sensitive little clit. He's absolutely gone for a moment, his cock throbbing at your moans as he grinds it down on the cold sheets, creating a whole new sensation for himself. He pulls just a breath away from your pulsing cunt and how it clenches around nothing. "Patience.."
He hauls you closer by your hips, pressing his cock between your folds, he watches you gasp as your two heats merge together for a long moment. He drags his hips back the weight of his cock creating ripples on your clit, making your skin tender and flushed. His thumb presses his tip to your clit, and he exhales as his hips move forward and back, in a rhythm faster than his previous.
Just as your moans start to get a little tight and pitched, he positions himself with your entrance.
"Yeah?" He breathes
You reply with a frantic nod, as if afraid he would pull away now of all times "mhm.." you hum as your hand wrapped around his forearm.
The intention isn't lost on him, he slowly inches in, breathless as he leans down, holding himself propped up by his elbows on the either side of your chest. He feels your cunt squeeze him in deeper, like a warm, wet and tight vacuum begging for more of him. He grunts, but feeling your hands wrap over his shoulders as you whimper leaves his ego inflated hundredfold. As you drag your nails down his back, in agonisingly slow pace, his legs stiffen to adjust to the upcoming change in pace.
"Soft enough for you, eh?" He asks as he leans in your face.
"Uhh-huh.. I feel so good." your voice pliant, soft and beautiful.
The way your breath hitches at each deep thrust, gives him a handful more reasons why he wants to stay in the Arrowhouse with you. He nuzzles into your neck, the undemanding pace of his hips closing the gap between your pleasure and your orgasm. Your walls flutter around his cock , and he feels the change in how you feel and how you breathe.
Just then he speeds up, chasing his own high with rhythmic slap of skin against skin.
With a desperate cry of release against him, he cums deep inside your cunt, his hips stalling as he bucks them to a stop. He pulls out slowly, kissing you deeply
"As I said... patience." He mumbles between kisses before he laid on his back and pulled you ontop of him, his fingers tracing your body as the desire wears off.
But trust and respect remain mingling between the two of you.
Until John barged in, no shame at all, not even looking at both of you on bed
"Tom! Tom, you got to see this. Arthur just made– oh. Ohhhh. Okay. Nevermind. Have fun, brother. I didn't mean to--"
And then Arthur peeks in, sighs and drags john out.
Somewhere down the hall you hear Arthur scold john for not knocking.