#peakascum

You and Chris hadn’t really spoken in three whole days. The only words exchanged between the two of you being things like, “okay I’m leaving,” when running errands or, “were you going to shower?” before either of you got in, and of course, “did you let Dodger out yet?” before you went to bed.

You and Chris had never really fought before; of course you’d argued occasionally about little things, but it was resolved before you went to bed that very same night. This was different; you thought you were on the same wavelength about your future together, but now he’s gone and changed everything. 

A few weeks ago, before he wrapped on his last project, he sat you down wanting to chat about what was next. You agreed that you wanted to get married and start your family, after all you’d been together forever. He decided that he wanted to focus on that now, taking a break from acting for a while to be with you. Everything was going well and you were excited to take the next step with him. 

He hadn’t officially proposed but it was out there between the two of you, and if you’re being honest, you’d already secretly started planning the wedding - picking out flowers and colors and looking at dresses - nothing too major, but enough to make it real.

Three days ago he came home, telling you that he’d just been offered a really great part that he kind of wanted to take. Your heart dropped to your stomach instantly. You were so ready to move forward and have him with you all the time and now he wants to run off and do something else. You were heartbroken and saw the wedding and everything else disappearing, but mostly, you were furious. He was the one that started all of this and now he’s back pedaling on you. 

You screamed at him til you were red in the face, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes bulging, and voice breaking. He yelled back quite a bit, not exactly what he’d planned on, but it came out all the same. He wanted to tell you calmly, talk about the role. He hadn’t accepted yet, but it was interesting and enticing and he thought he’d really get something out of this; he didn’t expect a massive fight to happen over it, just a discussion. 

You’d never screamed at anyone in your life, but all of the years of waiting for him to slow down finally caught up to you. You’d stormed into the bedroom and locked the door, proceeding to cry until you ran out of tears. Chris didn’t try to follow you, he was mad because of the fight, but immediately regretted raising his voice. He didn’t want to be that person, but he knew that nothing would change tonight, so he settled into the couch with Dodger.

Now here you were, avoiding each other still. Both so desperate to make up, but neither knowing what to say or where to start. You wanted him in any way that you could have him, and he felt the same. He’d already decided not to take the part, having thought about it over the past few days. He’d rather have you and if passing it up was what it took, then he was going to do just that. He could always see the movie when it came out anyway.

You walked back in the door that evening after running errands to find Chris on the couch, feet on the chaise sofa, beer in hand, and Dodger resting between his legs with his head on his chest. You’d been thinking about what to say to make up, but nothing felt right. You decided to proceed with caution, trying to keep the mood light, not wanting a screaming match to start again.

You closed the door quietly behind you, dropping a few things off in the kitchen before proceeding to the living room. You padded in quietly, eyes on the floor. This is the first time, besides passing, that you’d been in the same room in days.

You looked up at his face slowly as you rounded the couch, finding his eyes already on you. 

“Someone’s in my spot,” you spoke, just above a whisper.

“You haven’t used it in a couple days,” he whispered back gently, “didn’t know if you would still want it.”

You sighed deeply, sitting on the other end of the couch, your back resting on the arm so you could face him, “of course I want it,” you mumbled.

“Didn’t think you would with the way you screamed at me.”

You sighed again, tears forming in your eyes. You tried to will them away, but it wasn’t working very well, a few falling into your lap.

He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, he desperately wanted you to use your spot; the connection between his brain and mouth wasn’t working right, everything sounded better in his head. He sat up, gently pushing Dodger off of him and sitting up straighter. He turned to face you as well, his feet now sharing a cushion with yours. 

He sighed himself, “wasn’t trying to hurt you, darlin’, everything’s coming out wrong…” 

“I’d say,” you laughed lightly, believing what he said. You’d always been able to tell when he was lying.

He chuckled back to you, rubbing his hands together, “where do we start?” he asked, jumping straight to the elephant in the room.

“I have no idea,” you breathed.

“Okay, well,” he started slowly, “I’m not going to take the part.”

“Why?” 

“Because you don’t want me to.”

“You should take it if you really want to,” you whispered back, not wanting to step in the way of his career, that wasn’t your goal, you just wanted to be on the same page again - marriage, family, more pups, hopefully. 

“Well, you don’t want me to, I know that. And I'd rather have you,” he answered, tears starting to form in his eyes as well.

“You can have both, you know?” you asked.

“It didn’t feel like it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Having both would be hard and you really wanted him home with you. “I’m sorry I got so mad…” you whispered, looking down at your hands, fiddling with the hem of your (his) shirt.

“Yeah,” he sighed again, “where did that come from?” he asked, hoping to get a straightforward answer.

“Well,” you breathed, voice cracking as you thought about the fight again, “we talked a bit ago about our future plans and I thought we were moving forward. I want to get married and do the family thing. I’ve been waiting for so long, and I love you so much, and I saw it all slipping away, and I just lost it, absolutely lost it. I saw all of the things I’d picked out for the wedding disappearing and I was so crushed at the thought of not being able to marry you. I thought you were going to choose work over me again, and I couldn’t take it.” 

Tears were streaming down your face now, you sniffled as you looked up at him again. He had tears of his own coming down, eyes bloodshot and beer discarded from his hand. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, barely able to speak. He didn’t realize how much his career had been hurting you. He thought you were happy, but to hear that you’d been hurting for so long was like a punch to the stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled again.

“Don’t you be sorry about anything,” he spoke gently, nudging your foot with his own, “I didn’t realize how much I’d been hurting you. I want all of those things too, I just got excited by this story. I would much rather do the family thing with you, I promise.”

He moved forward, crossing his legs and sitting between your thighs, one of which dangled off the couch, the other tucked under the back cushion, as he grabbed your chin in his hands. He stretched his thumbs up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “I’m so, so sorry, my love,” he whispered against your skin. 

“I shouldn’t have lost it,” you whispered back.

“No, no, it happens. I shouldn’t have come home talking about another project after everything I promised you. I’m so sorry. I never want to hurt you. I love you so much, I want to be here with you,” he breathed.

He looked into your eyes deeply, you could feel the love pouring out of him as you sat there together. You started to breathe a little deeper, relaxing in his grasp, the anger and sadness about everything melting away.

Chris breathed out against your face, “can I kiss you?” he asked, timidly.

“Please,” you whispered back. 

He fused your lips together, capturing your bottom lip between his own as he poured his heart into you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed deeply; you’ve missed kissing him and you never want to go another day without it. He brushed one hand around your back, finding a perfect spot between your shoulder blades, as he pulled you closer to him. 

Your hands found home at his sides, gently pulling at his shirt, bunching it up. You wrapped your legs up over his waist and around his back, locking your ankles behind him.

You relished in the kiss for quite a while, simply moving your lips together, before the temperature in the room started to rise. 

Chris timidly swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Instead of opening your mouth, you pulled away from him. 

His heart dropped when you pulled away, he wanted to show you just how much he loved you, but it didn’t look like you were going to let him.

“We’re okay?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, darlin’, we’re okay. I hear you, and I’m all in. Right here, with you. Always,” Chris breathed back to you, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m yours, I want the future too.”

“Okay,” you breathed back before connecting your lips once again, this time opening up immediately.

You let him explore your mouth before dipping your tongue into his, gently fighting for dominance. Chris moved his hands down, wrapping around your bum. He scooped you up, pulling you into his lap completely. He wanted you as close as humanly possible. You laughed against his mouth as he did this, pecking him a few times to lighten the mood, you hadn’t planned on make-up sex, but were you really going to say no?

He chuckled as you pecked him, knowing exactly what you were doing. You always pecked him three times when you wanted to keep things light.

“Babyyyyy, pleaseeee…” he whined against you, grinding up into your core, “let me show you how much I love you, wanna make you feel good, wanna make it up to you.”

He pecked you again quickly before you could answer.

“Oh, yeah?” you asked cheekily, giggling at him.

He knew what you were playing at, growling as he picked you up once again, this time taking you to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him with his foot, quickly striding to the bed and falling into it with you still latched to his front. 

You laughed as he landed on top of you, relishing in his primal ways. He chuckled for just a second before kissing you deeply once again. You opened immediately, letting him take control completely. He explored your mouth again before unwrapping his arms from around your thighs and dragging them up to the hem of your top. You moaned as his hands pushed it up, finding the bare skin of your stomach.

“God, I love the sounds you make, pretty girl,” he groaned against your lips. 

His hands slowly pulled your shirt up your stomach, over your bra, and off your body. His mouth followed the hem as he kissed his way to your neck, where he sucked bruises over its expanse, marking you. 

He soon finished his art on your skin and moved back to your mouth. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, something you’ve always done to tell him you want it off, but he didn’t answer right away. 

“Chris, off,” you mumbled against his mouth.

“No, baby, this is about you. Need to make it up to you,” he groaned back.

“That’s sweet, but I want to see you…”

“You will, in good time, my love,” he chuckled back before attacking your mouth again.

His hands trailed down to your waistband before starting to tug your leggings over your hips. His mouth left yours once again as he followed your pants to the floor. He kissed down your stomach, over your panties, down your legs, and finally pecked your ankles. 

He stepped back after dropping your leggings at his feet, looking over the expanse of your body; he admired your toned legs, your matching blue set he’d bought you last year, and your soft tummy as it heaved up and down with your breaths.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he breathed out.

You giggled at his response, sitting up on your elbows, “are you gonna come back here then? Or should I finish myself?” 

He laughed loudly at you, climbing over your figure once again, “I’ve got it, darlin’, don’t you worry,” he laughed.

He kissed you once more before trailing down your front again, this time, slipping his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and pushing them down your legs. Once off, he grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the end of the bed so your legs would hang off. 

He kneeled down in front of you, placing your legs over his shoulders gently. You locked your ankles behind his back. He smirked at you, lowering his nose even with your center, never breaking eye contact. He leaned forward, bumping his nose against your clit with just enough pressure to get your attention, but not nearly enough to get started. He took a deep breath in through his mouth, blowing it out his nose right into you.

You laughed, knowing what he was doing, “Chris! No teasing, please, it’s been three days!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” he laughed, blowing air onto your folds again. You moaned out at the sensation.

He breathed deeply again, slowly tracing one finger tip over your thigh, still not doing anything.

You were just about to whine again, when he leaned forward suddenly, latching his mouth right onto your clit and sucking harshly. 

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. Your hand immediately latched to his hair, pulling at his locks gently. 

He laughed into you, sending vibrations through your body and up your spine. You moaned again, starting to grind against his face. 

He ate like it was his last meal, sucking and nibbling on your clit, lapping his tongue through your lower lips. 

You moaned over and over, beginning to feel the fire building in your stomach. His nose bumped into your clit again, this time with more pressure, as he lowered his mouth to stick his tongue inside you. He curled it up to a point at the tip, thrusting in and out, stroking your sweet spot just right.

Your fire was spreading rapidly; you curled your toes, pressed your heels into his back, and pulled his hair, trying to get even closer to him. 

He laughed again, “baby, I’m as close as I’m gonna get,” he spoke into your pussy. 

You moaned at that, the vibrations from his low bravado being just what you needed to topple over the edge. You chanted his name over and over as you circled your hips against his face. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, to which he only sucked harder. 

For a few seconds you were relishing in it; he’d never gone this hard when eating you out, and my oh my what you’d been missing. You started to come down, almost back to nothing, but Chris hadn’t stopped. 

He sucked your clit with renewed fervor, now bringing two fingers up to add to the mix. He quickly entered you, curling them just as he’d done with his tongue, and pumped them in and out of you at an electric pace.

You started to push his head away from you, “Chris, need a break, too much,” you whined.

Again, he didn’t stop.

You planted your feet into his back, heels digging in, as you tried to squirm away from his face. The fire in your stomach lit again even though you were overstimulated as all hell.

“Chris, Chris, Chris, enough,” you panted. His arm over your thigh held you down tightly, not letting you wiggle free. 

He sucked and sucked away at your clit, moaning into you, as his fingers continued to pump in and out. 

Your fire spread much faster this time and before you knew it, it was white hot and you were falling yet again. 

You screamed out as you hit your peak. You squirmed even harder in his grip. He laughed loudly into you, slowing his fingers in you and his mouth against your clit. 

You clambered over the edge, this orgasm being much more intense. You teetered at the top for a few seconds before you started to descend, breathing heavily, eyes shut and body limp. 

He released his hold on your thigh, pulling away from you and climbing back up to your face, “sorry, baby, you just taste so good, and god you’re cute when you cum,” he laughed against you, wrapping his arms around your back; his hands quickly found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it and pulling it from your body. Once it hit the floor, he wrapped his arms around you again, laying on you once more.

“Oh, fuck, that was good,” you breathed out.

“Yeah?” he laughed, not expecting that. He honestly thought you’d slap him lightly and tell him not to do that again, but he was thankful that you’d enjoyed it as much as he did.

“Oh yeah.” 

He laughed loudly again, “told you I was gonna make you feel good. Gotta make it up to you,” he gave you a few seconds to recover, “should we go for number three?” he asked cheekily, one eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know if I have another in me to be honest,” you laughed, keeping the mood light, but also being totally honest.

“Oh I bet I can get another out of you,” he whispered against your neck as he dipped his head into your shoulder, “if you’ll let me,” he added.

He kissed against the base of your neck lightly but sensually. You moaned against him, relishing in the feeling of his skin and weight on you. He took your moans as permission as he leaned back off of you. He finally removed his shirt and your hands immediately flung to his chest, tracing over his tattoos lightly. You loved feeling them - the tensing of his muscles underneath your touch, the hair littering his chest, all of it, all of him. 

He breathed out quickly, his shoulders drooping as your hands made contact, “your hands are freezing, love,” he laughed.

“Sorry,” you whispered genuinely, but not making any effort to move them.

He stepped back, dropping the rest of his clothes and letting them pool at his ankles. You scooted up the bed so your back was against the pillows as he stalked up towards you. He rested between your thighs, his member laying heavily on your stomach. He kissed your cheek sweetly before moving down the side of your face to your earlobe.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he whispered.

His words went straight to your core, lighting the fire again.

He kissed the shell of your ear before adding, “flip over for me, baby, I’ll be right back,” before sauntering into the bathroom 

You did as he asked, flipping onto your stomach quickly, settling the pillows around your new position. As soon as you had gotten comfortable, he rested his weight on you again, his cock settling on your lower back. He leaned up, kissing from your shoulder blades back to your ear.

“Sorry, baby, had to get a condom,” he pecked your ear again, rutting his member into you a few times.

He leaned back, his knees digging into the mattress beside yours, as he rolled the condom down his length. Once he was wrapped, he leaned forward again, rubbing your ass with his hands, gently squeezing and spreading you open. 

He held one cheek in his hand, pulling his other hand back to grab the base of his member. He tugged a few times before guiding himself into you. You both moaned as soon as you felt the contact.

He pushed inside slowly, the position adding to your already tight canal. 

“God, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he grunted as he bottomed out inside of you.

You wanted to give him a cheeky answer, but your brain couldn’t form a proper sentence. All you could do was moan in response. 

He started to thrust slowly, placing his hands back on your ass, bracing his weight. He pushed you further into the mattress as he pumped out and back in slowly. 

The pressure of being squeezed in between his hands and the mattress made his tip bump your g-spot with every thrust. You chanted his name over and over as he fucked you deeper than he’d ever had. 

He moaned loudly, wrapping one arm around your ribcage, pulling you back slightly, his other hand moving to your lower back, still pressing you into the mattress. You arched your back as much as you could, pressing up and bracing your weight on your hands. 

He leaned forward to kiss at the side of your neck, pulling you back to him a little harder. He plowed into you deep and hard a few more times before you had to tap out. As good as you were feeling between your legs, your back couldn’t take it for much longer.

“Chris - fuck - Chris, baby, gotta,” you stopped mid-sentence, letting out a deep moan as one particular thrust hit you so good, “gotta change positions,” you paused again, moaning as he continued to rail into you, “hurts, bubba, hurts,” was all you could manage. 

He immediately stopped and pulled out, thinking he was hurting you inside, “I’m so sorry, babe, we can stop, that’s fine, I didn’t know, I got carried away,” he hurried out.

You chuckled at him, bringing your legs up to kneel on all fours, “no, bubs, my back,” you laughed.

“Oh,” he laughed, “getting old?” he joked.

“Fuck you,” you laughed considering he was a few years older than you, wiggling your butt at him to get him back in you.

He let out a loud laugh, tipping backwards slightly before speaking to your bum, “with pleasure,” he mumbled and kneeled behind you.

He slipped in with ease, gripping your hips and beginning to pull you back and forth. You moaned as he immediately resumed his hard pace. After a few thrusts, he titled his hips down, just the way you like.

You almost screamed at the change, falling onto your elbows, and burying your face into the pillow.

“Just like that, just like that, right there,” you groaned as Chris hammered into you.

“God, baby, takin’ me so well,” he moaned back, “please tell me you’re getting close because I don’t know how much longer I'm gonna last.”

“Yeah, yeah, almost there,” you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, much more intensely than your first two orgasms tonight, “keep doing that.”

“Wasn’t gonna stop,” he quipped, slamming your body back into his own. 

He thrusted a few more times, snaking a hand around to roll at your clit, pushing you over the edge. 

“Oh, my, god, Chris, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted as you hit your peak. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to hammer into you.

Your inner walls tightened around him, squeezing desperately. He watched you fall over the edge before he fell himself, spilling his load into the condom. 

You both breathed heavily, coming down from your peaks. Chris fell forward onto your back, still buried inside of you. You stayed connected for who knows how long, just breathing together and swapping a few light pecks, his to your back and yours to his hand that had stretched up near your face.

“God that was so good,” you breathed, “missed you these past few days.”

“Missed you too, darlin’, never wanna fight again.”

Chris regained enough strength to finally pull out of you. He climbed off the bed, trailing into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Meanwhile, your legs fell out from underneath you and you collapsed into the mattress, fully spent. Chris appeared in the doorway, blocking the light. He watched you for a minute, your eyes still closed, your back moving up and down slowly as you breathed deeply, your legs still parted. He turned around, heading back into the bathroom and starting the tub, dropping in a few essential oils before pulling out clean towels.

Chris padded back over to you, placing one hand on your shoulder blade, “baby, you still with me?” he asked lightly.

“Mmhmm, “ you mumbled, “I’m here.”

“Can you walk?” 

“No,” you were fairly sure you could, but you wanted him to scoop you up.

“Alright, darlin’, roll over,” he whispered.

You rolled onto your side and he took you in his arms gently, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom. 

He set you on the edge of the tub gently with your feet inside, grabbing a washcloth from the closet before stepping into the tub. He sat down against the back, spreading his legs in front of him and submerging the cloth. “Com’ere,” he whispered, holding his arms open to you. You slipped off the side and in between his legs. 

You turned on your hip, resting the side of your face against his chest and looking up at him. You pecked his jaw bone lightly as he rubbed the cloth over your back gently cleaning you. 

“Looks like I got my spot back,” you giggled lightly.

A chuckle rumbled through his body in response, “yeah, doll, looks like.”

He pecked the top of your head and finished cleaning you. 

You sat in the tub for a long time before even considering getting out, only doing so when your hip started to hurt.

He stood you up, wrapping a towel around your body and helping you step over the edge. Once you were situated, he got a towel himself and stepped out. You both dried off gently before proceeding back to the bedroom.

You dropped your towels into the hamper before climbing into bed, not bothering to get dressed. You instantly curled up on his chest again as he wrapped his arms around you.

“So,” he hummed out quietly, “wedding planning, huh?”

You giggled lightly, “just a few things, got excited.” 

“Wanna show me?” he asked gently, pecking your hair.

Your eyes lit up before you rolled over quickly, grabbing your phone off the nightstand, before nestling into his chest once again. You pulled up your tab on Pinterest, eager to show him everything. 

His feet carried him across the room, arms missing his aunt’s fingers by an inch and his brother’s angry whispers for him to stay put. They wouldn't care in a second, they would go back to their champagne and pretend that new money could buy them class and a new identity. He didn't think so or even care, not really; in fact, he didn't even try to hide his brummie accent or pretend to know which fork to use during dinner, even John struggled with that. 

Your eyes had been trained on him for a while, being there to catch his missteps and the occasional excessive laugh he’d hand out before the punchline was delivered. You too were conditioned to laugh at such jokes. At the meaningless banter that resonated through parties between nobles and esteemed families who had always looked down upon new money, like the Shelbys, which set the tone for your dislike towards your kin. Your mother groomed you to be a proper lady, bred to breed the finest that England had to offer in order to purify your name and- what else? How vain. 

The littlest Shelby had stammered his way through the entirety of the gala and held improper posture, which would only, and exclusively, be rectified when you tossed a wink or a silly face in his direction. It entirely went by his family’s head, but you did receive a proper kick to the shin from yours. It was just silly banter and perhaps a tad entertaining, much to his dismay, not in a way that would embarrass him completely, but just enough to taint his cheeks and further earn a glare from his siblings. 

The sillines, although flustered him, spoke volumes as to who hid beneath the expensive jewels and stoic expression. A girl, just a girl, who was anything but proper in the most intriguing and tasteful way. And it was in that utter lack of propriety that ignited a fire in his new dress shoes and sent him treading in your direction. 

He swiped two glasses from a nearby table and situated himself beside you. With a confident smirk he thrusted the glass in your direction, only slightly coating the floor beneath you, “A lady such as yourself shouldn't be drinking alone.” 

“A lady wasn’t, you just offered me a glass.” Your brow quirked in his direction.

“Y-yes, you seemed- thirsty. Had two in hand and you, glassless, appeared- uh-“

Your grin widened and brows shot up to your hairline, “-Unsatisfied?”

“I was going to suggest bored, but unsatisfied works too.”

 You giggled and took the glass from his hand, fingers grazing his smooth ones. You wondered just then how they would feel against your body and craved the touch of his fingertips, even just the the single caress of the tips, to edge across your face, to underline the blemishes that made up your young skin and maybe even leave a mark or two if they pressed hard enough against your hips. 

“For someone who seems to have it all, ‘unsatisfied’ is an odd word to use.”

“How so?”

“You're dripping in diamonds and you seem to walk as if you’d ‘ave a gun to your head.” He said it mindlessly, unbothered even, by the mere thought that you would immediately leave after such a remark. That’s why he detested these things. Upper class women seemed to be put off by talks of guns and mud. 

“Correct,” you hummed, “or a stick right up my arse.” His eyes darted to your face and then everywhere else to see if they heard. You just scanned the room. “My blood is blue and I shit diamonds, Mr. Shelby, doesn't mean I’m happy, or content, or-“

“-or satisfied.” He finished for you, staring intently at your profile. A small smile etched itself on your lips, “Or satisfied.”

“I’m Finn,” he said thrusting his hand in your direction, “Mr. Shelby is my brother.”

“Which one?”

“All- but really the one who does seem to have a whole tree branch up his arse.” This earned a whole hearted laugh from you, prompting a small chuckle from him. He made you laugh, genuinely. You turned in his direction and took his suspended hand in yours, and shook his hand with all the seriousness you could muster. 

“Well Finnegan Shelby it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, how about we drop this act, ditch the snobs and you show me how Small Heath does it.”

You welcomed the cold slapping of the wind as you would a warm hug. For a second, stillness and crickets. For a second, wires turned in question as to where should you go from here. Glancing towards his moonlit face you let out a heavy breath and hastily took your heals off, making you a couple of inches shorter than you already were. Finn offered you his arm for balance as the other clutched a whisky bottle he managed to snatch from the bar. With heals in hand, you raced through the filled and into the night. 

The skip in your step created a soothing rhythm with the howling wind, a melody you could get used to, one you prayed would come as often as life would allow it.

You lay on the ground surrounded by ramsons that had just started to bloom as Finn sat by your side, bending down ever so slightly to better view your features. Your hands nervously touched the diamond clad necklace that adorned your neck as you felt his eyes scan yours. For a girl whose entire life was spent under attentive eyes, his were the only ones to bring a jolt to your chest and an exuberant vitality to your entire being. 

“Watchful eyes you’ve got there.” His gaze shifted a little, as they did whenever you caught him watching.

“I can’t help myself.”

You cocked your head to the side and eyed him steadily, “Are you staring at my diamonds, Shelby? How pretty they shine under this light?”

“Shining rocks got nothing on you, love.”

“How flattering.” You scoffed. 

“You sound offended.”

“I despise lies, half truths. Men think that’s all that women want to hear. And some do, some eat it up and out of their hands as if they could never eat from their own.”

“You seem to take great interest in other’s concerns,” he said as you shook your head, “in matters and thoughts that imply your worth”

“I care not! I- I do not. It’s just a pity women are eyed like cattle and assumed to be foolish and of fallen grace!” You said, now agitated. Finn fancied the dark glow that came from your eyes, knowing he hit a nerve. You sat upright unlocking the necklace’s  hatch at the back of your neck. The rocks hit the limestone floor with a small thud no louder than that of a bird’s wings, and created a shimmering glare that adorned your face like small, expensive teardrops. 

“Your fit won’t change my mind if that’s what you're aiming at,” he provoked. You stood up with furrowed brows and hastily undid the back of your dress. His posture remained stoic but eyes widened in concern of your hurried movements. 

“What’s the matter Finn, aren’t women more rabid than men?” You chuckled as the dress slid  under the curve of your breasts, past your belly, and further pooled by your shoeless feet. Finn visibly gulped at the sight of your body in the delicate, silk slip. You stood proudly like a painting, a muse, waiting to be challenged and admired for his eyes, and only his. 

His head turned towards the house, which was only a dot in the mere distance, swallowed by music and acres of field. You stepped towards him towering over his sitting frame, took his hands in yours and placed them on your thighs, just below the seam of the slip. His cheeks turned a deep crimson that reminded you of the red pygmies that swam in the pond near your feet. “Suddenly at a loss for words, Shelby?”

He got up clumsily and towered over your body. Hands blended together in a pool of questions that should not and could not be answered with words, but with the mere touch of light grazes against his skin. How did he ever muster the courage to approach such a creature full of such beauty, whose aggressive approach to life had to be masked by the authoritarian glare of wealth and class. 

He knew where this was headed by your hurried kisses and the race of both hands. He halted your movements causing you to peer at him in a daze. “It’s not a race Y/N,” he said in a hushed manner.

“What’s the difference? You want me, you'll have me, and then leave,” you spat. 

“I want you, I’ll have you, and I’ll be back for more of you,” he paused to kiss your swollen lips, “for this,” he traced his lips over her breasts, “for more nights,” lips trailed to your belly, “no champagne, no diamonds. Just give up control, for once.” 

Your head tilted back as he nuzzled his head between your legs. His hands grazed the curves of your thighs while the wind nipped at your cheeks and flowers tickled your shins. The stars winked as the sky seemed to open up, all witnessing the spectacle that was just commencing. An exciting origin to an undoubtedly sublime love story. 

His soft fingers gripped your leg as he swung it over his shoulder, just as you imagined when you first accepted the glass in your empty glassless ones. 

Your sighs of pleasure mixed with his groans as he savored your juices, drinking you up like expensive cabernet. His tongue grazing the inside of your walls, kissing and nipping your bundle of pleasure, humming at your whines and muttering small praises full of lust and adoration. A garden of sinful pleasure built for the two.

*BONUS SCENE*

In the distance Tommy and Arthur stepped out into the balcony to get some air, the room suddenly seeming stuffed with snobs and meaningless conversation. They shared a cigarette and nursed their drinks, for a moment appreciating the quietness that spring brought every year. As Tommy dragged on about titles and politics, Arthur fixed his eyes in the distance, squinting and questioning if his mind was finally going mad. 

“Tom?” He stuttered. His brother held a hand up, “I know it’s the same shit with Mosely. Like a fuckin’ riddle-“

“Tom,” Arthur interrupted again, eyes widening as he stared at the distance. 

“No, it is! But if we ever catch-“

“Jesus fuck Tom, shut the hell up ‘bout the coppers and the bloody earls!” He said agitated. Tommy swirled his head to look at his brother’s rigid body. Arthur pointed into the distance, “There, Tom. There. By the tree, over the pond.”

Tommy followed his finger, having to squint his eyes to see the clear image.

“Fucken’ hell is that-“

“Fucken’ Finn!” Arthur cackled, choking on his own spit in the process. 

Tommy’s jaw slacked in complete and utter shock, “This fuckin’ kid I swear to God,” he muttered under his breath. Brow furrowing as his eyes scanned the property, suddenly worried that his brother’s laughter would attract attention to the scene that unfolded before them in the mere distance. “All right, all right Arthur- fuck,” he said as a small smirk formed on his stoic face. 

“Tom I can’t breath, I mean this is-“ Arthur howled, “this is almost fuckin’ biblical!”

“Arthur shh, okay okay just don’t-“

He felt as if he finally got what was always coming to him. For all the men he took away from their wives and their children, he was finally paying in his own grief and loss. I feel their souls, he would say to Polly, I can feel their grip on me heart Poll, and they are angry- angry like me. She, much like everyone else, could only console him in small doses; for inner wars could only be fought to such an extent before they too would be inclosed by it.

In time, Arthur began to parade a familiar glimmer that he only got when you were around. A certain shine that brought flushing pride to his cheeks and skip to his step. The whole family grew concerned at his antics, because Arthur only wore black now, almost as if he took pride in being a widower- well, your widower. 

*

“Look at this,” Polly thrusted the papers in front of Tommy’s face. He examined them with a furrowed brow, not expecting any sort of trouble at such an early hour.

“Are these-“

“Letters. They are letters to her, Tommy. To a fuckin’ corpse!” She quickly lit up her fifth cigarette despite it being a quarter to nine. Tommy pinched his brow and sighed in defeat.

“Are there any replies? Is someone replying? It could be her, there’s no corpse.”

“You saw the body Tom-“

“Burnt to the crisp! We still don’t know.”

“There was a plan, a threat, and a corpse. She’s dead-“

“Are there any replies?” He yelled impatiently. She nodded slowly and presented him with a plethora of replies signed by your name.

Polly paced the office with a far off look and ticked off brows whilst Tommy only scanned the letters for clues, any indication that it was you- well, apart from the fact that he recognized your handwriting in a second. 

“Does he know you have the letters?” He asked. She responded with a small shake of the head, “Good, good. He doesn't need to-“

“Gonna keep more secrets from me now brother? Eh?” Arthur interrupted their plotting, something he pat himself on the back for. “Last time a plan was made my wife was taken from me.”

“Since when have you received these letters?” Replied Tommy.

“Two weeks ago.”

“And you never cared to tell anyone?”

“No-“

“You could be in danger. Could put us all in danger for keeping stuff like this.” Tommy grew more agitated. 

“I don’t care Tommy. You broke my family for your business-“

“Our business-“

“Your business Tommy. You call the shots ‘round ‘ere. You knew she could never deny an opportunity like that to-to prove herself to you, to everyone!” Arthur took long strides towards his brother despite Polly’s pleas for him to stay put. 

“It could be a trap-“ Tommy got cut off by Arthur slamming him against a bookcase. 

“You wanted me erratic? To lose my fuckin’ mind? Yeah? You got it, you finally did it! I’m rabid now brother, I’m fuckin’ angry!” He unfastened his gun and pointed it at Tommy’s chin. 

“Arthur,” Polly’s voice shook, “put the gun down.”

“Listen to Polly, Arthur, put the gun down,” coaxed Tommy, as calm as ever, yet with a small hint of fear in his eyes.

“I won’t stop until I find her-“

“And I will help you-“

“I love her Tommy. I love my wife a-and- and I will find her.” He rasped.

“We will find her. If that’s her- if she’s alive and writing, we will find her. You have my word.”

Arthur shoved the gun back in his pocket and sniffed his tears away. His hands shook as he exited the building, leaving a dumbfounded Polly and a very determined Tommy.

“I will find her Poll, but I have a feeling he won’t like what he find.”

“No, no. Look at me John,” she gestured to her hands, “you thread the needle like this, over the pattern- yes like that,” she spoke softly. “Careful with your fingers love.” 

He nodded his head, auburn hair flopping in front of his Shelby blues’. His mother had always found him the oddest of the bunch, following her every move around the house. He watched as she tended the newly scrubbed clothes on wires. He accompanied her on Sunday trips to the market in search of fresh produce, making friends with the vendors and scaring off street rats. Everywhere she went a mop of red hair and short legs seemed to follow. 

His brothers pissed him off to no end for his interest in domestic duties, but she knew it would only make him a respectful man in the future. She always reminded him of this when the boys got too rough with him, even little Ada joining in. 

“Oh come on John! You're knitting again?” Tommy claimed exasperately.

“And what of it Tom?” John bit back. 

“We need one more man for cops n’ robbers and Ada can’t play with,” said little Thomas with big eyes and furrowed brows. Their mom sat back amused at his flustered state.

“I can too Tom- Tommy! I can too!” Ada exclaimed in a flail of limbs and stomping feet. 

“Thomas, darling, let your sister play, yeah? Girls can bunch up their skirts and play with the boys,” said their mother ever so sweetly. John looked up briefly upon hearing those words, finding in them a fascinating hidden truth that he had not yet thought of. 

“Oh mum trust me, I know,” exhaled Thomas.

“What’s that mean?” Yelped Ada.

“It means what it means Ada, you pushed Freddie Thorne into the cut last time!”

“He got in the way! It’s how you play the game Shelby,” she said, sporting a menacing smile and deep blush.

“All right, off with you now! You have until sundown and then it’s bath and supper.” Their mother scolded.

Tommy shot John a look one more time, to which the latter replied with a soft, “Bugger off Tom.” And he did, shoulders hunched and a smirking Ada behind. 

Not five minutes later was a slight knock heard from the front door, causing Mrs. Shelby to utter a soft welcome, already knowing who it was.You made your way over, shoes tapping softly against the floorboards and a small smile painting your youthful features. Your eyes met John’s side profile immediately, almost forgetting his mother was in the room. For a girl so young you already had a strong inkling towards romance and a thing for the freckle cheeked boy.  

“Y/N, darling, nice of you to come by,” she said softly, “has your mum sent you over?” You nodded and walked towards her while sneaking glances at the boy, whose attention seemed to be only on the dotted pattern he was sewing. 

“Hello John.” You said softly, handing his mother the treats yours sent her.

You placed yourself beside him and peered over to see his crooked pattern. “That is lovely.”

He sneaked a look at you and quickly adverted his eyes back to his hands. Cheeks flushed and light headed he muttered, “Thank you. Not quite finished though, is it?”

“Suppose it’s not,” you nodded, “still pretty.”

“Can’t possibly be so.” He answered, suddenly unsure of himself.

“I disagree. It’s very- very,” you frowned softly, “-very ostentatious!” You exclaimed. 

Mrs. Shelby let out a small laugh. “Well haven't you been reading little one?” To which you nodded excitedly, taking pride in your big girl words. 

“She’s very smart, mum. She likes to read for fun.” He said proudly. You nodded. 

She watched the pair speak softly with each other, with such tenderness and caring that she hoped would last a lifetime. She prayed that your little doe eyes would forever shine for John, and that in return would carry his boyhood affection for you into adulthood. You were young, just children, but life was far too complicated to navigate it alone and loveless. 

Years later, already married with a whole tribe of children, you’d find him fixing clothes and sewing small patterns on your daughter’s quilts late into the night. You bit your lip to hide the small smile that appeared on your face. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, reminding you of the odd, freckled kid he once was. 

“You should come to bed darling.” You said placing a delicate kiss to his neck. 

“Just have to fix the collar on Elle’s shirt and I’ll be done.” He replied welcoming your affection. 

“It’s late.”

“I’ll just be a moment.”

You nodded against his warm skin, placing one last small kiss. The crickets chirped and wind howled softly as the minutes ticked by. You quietly made work in the kitchen for a cup of tea, preparing it to his liking, and placed it on his workspace. He silently thanked you by yanking a chair beside him, an invitation to join him. 

From the kitchen’s entrance your eldest watched on with tired eyes at his parent’s interaction. A far cry from the way his friend’s fathers, even his uncles, would treat their wives. He admired the gentleness of it all.

John had been on his second glass of whisky when the doors to the pub opened and in walked three women, two of which worked in his house, one who unsuccessfully seduced him just two nights ago. Peggy fluttered her lashes at him as she made her way to the bar.

“Mr. Shelby,” she greeted with a slight nod.

“Peggy,” he nodded back, “surprised the missus let you out early.”

“It is Friday, sir. Even shrews are not all bad.” She giggled. He frowned. “Oh hush, don’t take offense. ‘M only joking.”

“Well, who's this John, eh? Looks like we haven't been introduced.” Arthur intervened, slapping John’s shoulder.

“Peggy, sir.” She extended her hand for him to shake.

“She works at the house, Arthur, surely you've seen her around.” John said, taking a gulp from his glass.

“Would've remembered a pretty face like this.” Arthur replied, making her giggle.

“You think I’m pretty, eh? Must be a Shelby thing.” She said, causing Arthur to raise a brow at his brother. The latter only stared at the sweaty glass in his hand. He was tired and it was late, home was calling. But Arthur persuaded for one more drink and Peggy whined that the night was just starting. Tommy broke out a new bottle and music seemed to pipe in out of nowhere. An hour more will do me no harm, he thought. Then I’ll go home, he convinced himself.

One glass turned into four. Chuckles turned into full blown laughter. Shoe tapping turned into dancing. And soon the prospect of going home was pushed away from his mind. He didn't mean it. The job was stressful enough as it was and the deal was almost closed. Taking care of four children was rough, even with all the help they had. The house was getting crowded and so was his mind. Distractions- that is all he craved for.

Peggy pouted and whined as she tugged on his hand for one dance, just one dance and then he could leave. He complied.

“What is with your frowning Mr. Shelby?”

“Lost in me head, ’s all.” He twirled her.

“Step out of it, just for a while. Let me take care of you tonight.” She purred in his ear, still following the music’s rhythm.

“You take care of the house all-“

“Oh John, come off it! Not the house. The house has troubles, so does the business,” she whispered close to his ear and touched his temple delicately, “so does your head. You need a good distraction.”

“I’ve got plenty-“

“You've got none.” She cut him off. “I’m good. I could be good for you. Surely being with someone younger would be more pleasing. More distracting.” She carried on.

“On what grounds are you suggesting I need younger?”

“On happiness, Mr. Shelby. Or rather a lack of.”

“I’m plenty happy.” He huffed as she giggled.

“Your house is dismissed and your wife is alone, yet you're here dancing with me, holding me close.”

My wife, he thought, my wife is waiting for me. He stared into Peggy’s eyes, his own cloudy as whisky danced through his veins. Heart thundering in his chest, my wife is at home waiting for me.

Arthur and Tom had been exchanging looks all evening. One glass too many, they thought.  They were unloyal to their partners many times- John wasn’t. And although the times suggested men had to have their freedom in order to be happy they knew that some, their brother, were only content with one.

Alcohol lowers inhibitions and makes one slow. In their slow-moving paces they had misjudged the speed in which real time happens. And as their brother stopped dancing, as his eyes fogged and the wires ticked in his head, the doors to the Garrison slammed open.

There you stood with flushed cheeks and droopy eyes, scanning the room for your husband. Arthur cursed quietly and made his way over to you, “Y/N, love, we werent expecting you t’night!”

“Bet you werent,” you sighed looking over his shoulder, “I’m looking for my husband.”

“John?”

“Yes, John! Are you daft?”

“Just drunk, love. Why don’t ya’- why don’t ya’ sit, yeah?” Arthur stammered in a drunken manner as he tried to lead you to the side room.

“Arthur, no. It’s late. I just need to-”

“Just wait for him here-” He kept pushing you.

“Arthur- Arthur!” You raised your voice and furrowed your brows at his persistence, “Where’s John?”

Arthur dragged his hand through his hair in frustration, “Arthur, where is my husband?” You begged once more, eyes scanning his glassy ones.

In that precise moment you heard John’s name being giggled. He had seen you come in and tried to push Peggy away discreetly so as to not drag any attention his way. She insisted, grabbing at his suit and keeping his hands firmly on her waist. To her it was just a game.

“Pe-Peggy let go, now.” He insisted.

“Johnny, please no. Lets just go through the back.” She whined.

In between the tugging, the pushing and hushed pleadings, John looked to his far right and locked eyes with you. He saw a flustered Arthur attempting to shield him from view in an attempt to help him, yet unknowingly making him look far more icnriminating.

“Y/N,” he whispered quietly, arms going slack.

You made your way over in a slow pace, making your your heels would knock sharply against the wooden floorboards. Shoulderblades pushed back, head held high, and a darkness to your eyes that made John feel as if the room grew terribly cold, a dreadful picture of a torn woman with a temper problem. Peggy noted John’s deflated stare and turned around to encounter you, the lady of the house.

“Mrs. Shel-”

“You will get on the next available train and out of Birmingham. I don’t care where you go. I see you here tomorrow and I swear on my grave that I will cut your eyes out and feed them to you like grapes.” Your stare was cold, hard and determined, but your eyes gave you away. They pooled in silent emotion and unmatched confusion that could only be described as heartbreak.

“Y/N,” John muttered louder.

“Go f-fuck yourself John,” you whispered brokenly.

“I take it you're smitten over him?” Tommy laughed, watching her jump slightly startled. “When have you ever said the word smitten?” You said, head remaining pressed against the wall. “Since Ada dragged me to see that bloody awful film.” You both laughed quietly at that. She had the worst taste in pictures. 

“Oh I see,” she said pushing herself off the wall, “and here I was wondering what had you tipping your cap at women on the streets.” He laughed at that, “No, no. I’ve always done that, Y/N-“ her laugh cut him off, “Yes, of course! Ever the gentleman, Mr. Shelby.” She bowed her head in mockery and his eyes twinkled at her.

She was the youngest Shelby and by far the most loved.

She sat down as he poured her some whisky, “Are you gonna tell me his name?” She shook her head and stared at the drink intently. “You'll just scare him away,” she looked up at his big eyes, so much like their mother’s. 

“You know I wouldn't do that to you.”

“I know, I just-” she sighed and rested her head on her free hand, “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.” Tommy stared at her hoping that his eyes communicated all the things he wanted her to know. “A name is not needed. A name’s a name.” She referred to her own, of course. Whenever anyone heard the Shelby name they immediately assumed the worst. Said her brothers were scum, her father a deadbeat, and all just tooth, rotting criminals. If they could only see through her eyes how unbelievably wrong they were. No matter the amount of dirt they dragged in the house, or the amount of times they trotted through the door soaked in blood, Y/N saw her brothers as good people trying to deal the cards they were given. Always turning a blind eye to every ilegal bidding, but never entirely naïve of their ways.

Tommy worried for his sister and often joked that she had to have been raised by another family. She loved to read and was practically self taught after befriending the book store owner. She got lost in the yellowing pages of books she found and then rambled on for days about the character’s antics. Unfortunately, this made her an easy target at school. They mocked and kicked her, leaving the young girl friendless and lonely, so she befriended the adults. An “old soul” Polly had called her. So when he heard of her date the evening he promised to not get in the way, just content in seeing his baby sister building a life for herself. 

“Is he at least a good man?” He asked.

“He treats me well.” She smiled.

He huffed, “Well is not good enough.” Her eyes crinkled at her brother and tilted her head to the side, “He respects me and buys me flowers. Those pretty ones I like from the market.” Her tired eyes twinkled for the first time in her life making her look younger, a look Tommy wished he could see more. 

Arthur came trodding down the stairs in a tired manner, arms swinging to his sides, only to stop at the bottom and stare at his two siblings. “Oi!” He raised both arms in disbelief, “nobody tells me fuckin’ anything, eh?” They chuckled at him. Y/N shushed him and extended her hand for him to take. “Oh hush Arthur, this was improvised.”

“Yeah I bet, improvised, yeah.” He kissed the top of her head and sat down beside her as Tommy poured him a glass. “You had a date tonight, didn’t ya’?” She nodded. 

“Apparently he treats her well and buys her flowers.” Tommy said in sarcastic tone making Arthur raise his brows. “Flowers, eh? He buys ya’ flowers.” 

“He does and he’s good and that’s all you need to know.” She said definitively making him chuckle.

“You know I bought flowers for this girl once,” he started, making his sister face him completely, “she was a pretty, little thing so I bought her flowers.” Tommy let out a laugh, “Oh fuck I remember this.”

“Anyway, I’m walking over to her house, really excited and all cause y’know how could she not like flowers? I tripped on the fuckin’ sidewalk, landed on horse shit, scraped my bloody, fuckin’ knees,” she let out a squeal at her brother’s misery, “The flowers were already battered and ruined, but I pushed through.” He took a long pause and she stared at him, gesturing with her hands for him to continue the story. “And well that’s that. Turns out she was allergic to them flowers. Head grew two sizes and I had to pay for the hospital bill. Her mum still flips me off every time she sees me.” Tommy and Y/N laughed. He had the worst fucking luck. 

He chuckled at her laughter, always said it was the most joyous thing he’d ever heard. Arthur also had immense respect for her and often thought that he was forever indebted to her.

He would never forget one specific incident, which he never brings up, but it still plagues him every time he sees her. One night after a couple of rounds at the Garrison, Arthur stumbled into the house knocking everything in his path. He entered the living room and quickly plopped down on the couch beside her sulking figure. He rambled on drunkenly about a woman he had met and how Tommy had managed to seduce her. He rambled as his little sister took him to the bath and helped him in his drunken state. She fed him, stroked his hair, and tucked him in as if he were a kid. But Arthur failed to see the look in her eyes, the tears that raised down her youthful cheeks, and the way her hands trembled as she laced her fingers through his hair. He failed to notice the red sheets and how she could barely walk while dragging him from room to room. He failed to notice the way she selflessly helped him after having been raped on the alley just beside their house. As quickly as the thought came into his mind it went, leaving a ghostly smile on his rugged face.

And in came Finn through the door with an excited smile seeing his siblings at the table. “Oh! And where have you been?” She asked as he kissed her cheek and taking the whisky from her hands. “Been around. Might have dropped by the pictures.” He had a tantalising smile on his face as his sister widened her eyes at him. “Might have eavesdropped on your date.”

“Okay, okay! Spill Finn-boy.” Arthur said excitedly as her gathered more glasses to fill with whisky. 

“Finn stop! You did not-“

“I did too. Interesting choice my dear sister.” She narrowed your eyes at him as the newly poured whisky touched her tongue. “Not as interesting as your choice in ladies Finn. Multiple, might I add.”

The room roared in every direction, a symphony of Shelbys asking questions and laughing. Something so rarely seen because, really, it was only reserved for late nights like these. And their smiles all reserved for you and you only. Finn was the only one who truly knew where his sister was and with whom. After all, he was good friends with he man who dared to ask her out.

Little did her eldest brothers know but just as little Y/N Shelby closed the door and leaned against the wall, Isiah Jesus had done just the same as he watched her enter the Shelby household. His head had rested against the door, cheeks flushed and eyes full of life. He had adored the girl ever since he could remember, becoming completely helpless at the sight of her youthful cheeks and kind eyes. 

Ada Shelby, your sister in law and friend, had taken it upon herself to gather every book on cryptic messages used by spies and forensic detectives to decode any clues hidden amongst your passive letters. She studied every letter, every number, every single curvature that your shaky handwriting provided in hopes of interpreting your cries for help. You were smart- smarter than most, and Ada knew that. Even in death you would negotiate a better deal for yourself.

It was half past midnight when Ada slipped a bit of rum to her third cuppa that she noticed subtle clues in the second letter. For a woman that avoided Church as much as the devil itself, you made far too many biblical allusions. “To indulge in the garden of all things forbidden provided by our Lord. Oh Arthur!”

Her brows furrowed and mouth parted in a silent squeal. Ada tripped over her own feet, spilled the rum and tea that had already gotten cold, and raced to the telephone in sweaty haste.

One ring

Two rings

“This better be good Ada, do y-”