Dear Readers.
I give you, as promised, "Hard". This is my companion piece to "Soft". Let me explain. You do not have to read one to read the other. However, the titles convey the side of Mr. Todd that I am portraying. "Soft" shows the pieces of Benjamin Barker that still exist, while "Hard" will show the primal needs of our little barber. Enjoy nonetheless and I shall try for "The New Demon" a bit harder. Character development and whathaveyou.
Your Obedient Servant,
R.W.
Hard.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Credit to European history, Steven Sondheim, and Tim Burton.
Rain beat cold and forcefully upon the glass of the windows. The frail frames rattled, begging for mercy from the storm.
"Run you along to bed, now, love. I'll be in right quick to tuck ya in." Mrs. Lovett watched the young boy scurry into the only bedroom in her small abode, eager for the warmth of the bedding.
Drying her hands of dish water on her well-worn apron, she soon followed Toby to her room, the boy already sitting up straight under the covers.
"Well now," she said with a smirk, "One step ahead of me, ya are. Let's getcha in nice and snug there. That's right, there you are." Her voice was motherly and kind as she tightened the bed sheets around his small body to ward of the cold drafts of the whistling storm outside.
"Good night, mum," he said sleepily as she closed the door.
Heaving a sigh, she walked back around to the kitchen at the front of the shop. She gathered the rest of the dishes from inside and stacked them neatly to the left side of the sink. Once more, she dipped her hands into the hot water, grabbed a rag, and began scrubbing vigorously. Some of the plates had been left our far too long and took more work to remove the crusted food and dried gravy.
The side door clicked shut and she made a mental note that Mr. Todd had finally come down from his shop, the flow of customers finally ceasing.
"You hungry, love? Fix ya up somethin' nice?" she asked without turning to face him.
"No. No, thank you," he replied quietly, wearily.
Instead he leaned against the wall, watching her profile as she concentrated hard on getting her plates clean for the next day to come. Due to the storm, the rush had been early and the shop had closed early, giving dear Mrs. Lovett time to properly get things clean, provided she stay on task. Thankfully, the rain was busy outside cleaning the messes on the patio.
Her eyes here downcast, staring as her hands did all the work. A few long moments passed and the plates were complete, they all sat stacked on the right side of the sink, drying til morning. She drained and refilled the basin, steaming water leaving it at about half full. She turned, then, to face Sweeney, holding her hand out expectantly. For a moment, he stood there slightly confused.
"Well, come on. If ya want a clean shirt for the mornin', hand it over." She let a smirk grace her pouty mouth.
He snapped back to himself with realization that he still had blood drying in the weave of his shirt. Promptly, he began unbuttoning his vest, only to hand it to her. While he worked on untucking and undoing his white cotton shirt, he took to watching her again. He watched as she forced the crimson stains from the cloth. Her arms worked hard at cleaning his clothing while her own sat stained in her closet, oil clinging to the materials. As he handed his shirt over and stood there, topless, he noticed as her hips swayed ever-so-slightly as she hummed ever-so-quietly. He watched as her hips moved and caused her skirts to sway back and forth, brushing the flour scattering the floor making a soft swish.
Watching her, he felt his trousers grow tight. Well, there was only one thing he could do to fix that, now wasn't there…
His arm reached out to snake around her waist from behind. She let out a small gasp at the contact and grew momentarily stiff in his embrace. He reached down slowly to pull up at her skirts. The materials scrunched and scrunched in his hand until his fingertips brushed her upper thigh, the warm skin twitching at the contact. She shivered in his arms. This man had never shown anything towards but partnership and here he was, pulling up her skirts at the kitchen sink.
Her skirts pinned between them and hiked up at her waist behind her, he drew her towards him, pressed her into him, let her feel his desire and what it was that he wanted… needed.
That pretty head of hers was giving him a full profile view. Her brown eyes grew wide and a silent, "O" formed on her lips. A shuddering breath slipped out as she nodded slightly, giving him permission to take out his aggressions and frustrations on her body. After all, she was devoted to him, forever. She loved him. It was her place. She felt needed by him in this moment. She would seize it out of fear that it would never happen again.
She allowed his hands to caress her and kneed at her thighs as she pushed into him and away from the sink, but not letting go of the ledge for thought of falling. His long, thin fingers danced over her legs playfully as he reached around to the front of her only to be stopped by her garter, setting over a thin layer of cotton covering her dignity. Frustrated, he removed a razor from the holster on his belt and brought it 'round to cut her garment on either side, pulling it from her and tossing it to the side. The sudden feel of the cold metal shocked our little baker and she gasped loudly.
The clank of metal as he dropped the blade and his fingers were there, searching, finding. He wreaked havoc upon her as he scraped inside with those nimble fingers. Such talent emanated from his hand that she began to double over, biting her lip to keep from moaning. She dropped the wet rag, letting the grip of one hand free from the sink. It flew straight to grab at Sweeney's wrist through the layers of her skirt. She clutched at it as he maddeningly pumped his fingers inside of her, reaching the proper places with knowledge. Her walls clenched at his fingers as a moan leaked by her tightly pursed lips.
When he thought she would climax in his hand, he pulled away. Her whimpering protest elicited a smirk and dark laughter from him.
Soon enough he spun her around and lifted her up, setting her bare bottom on the flour-coated counter. He grabbed her skirts and lifted the offending garments out of his way. Quickly unfastening his trousers, he let himself free and shoved straight into her without warning. She threw her head back and drew out a long, deep moan, trying to keep her voice no louder than the howling of the wind and the rattling of the wooden frames.
Seeing her exposed neck, Sweeney dove in a bit down on the flesh there, causing her body to tense around him. He choked back a growl and she choked back a sob. He released her neck as he withdrew, almost completely. Grabbing her bottom tightly, he shoved forward once more, driving himself hard. She moaned in response, bowing her head and fisting her hands in his hair, muffling her sounds in the crook of his neck.
"M… Mistah T," she squeezed out of a tight throat.
He shoved forward again, this time bringing her ear to his mouth. "The only sounds I want out'a you, love, are screams." He hissed the last word with hot breath, then sucked her lobe between his thin lips, working it over with his tongue.
She did not know if she should lean into his ministrations or pull away because the pleasure was too great. Few, if any, words were to be exchanged during this action that much was clear now.
Another moan with another shove. Another, and another. His hips sped up and the pace increased. Soon, Mrs. Lovett was trying to match time with him, trying to get up the energy to move her hips with his.
She got closer and closer to the edge, as did he.
"Please, Mistah T," she begged in his ear.
"Please… what, Nellie?"
"Puh…Please," she panted, an asking look falling upon her worn features.
"Say it," he growled angrily, knowing what she wanted. He would hold back as long as necessary. He wanted to hear her say that one word that would allow him to abuse her like he'd always dreamed of.
"Hard. Give it to me harder, love," she purred breathlessly along the shell of his ear, speaking almost to his unruly hair that she clenched so tightly.
"That, is what I like ta 'ere, darlin'." He smiled devilishly.
At that moment, he'd gotten her permission. Grabbing her hips in a positively bruising manner, he pounded into her and let her feel his anger. He actions held all the sorrow and self-pity he held within himself and he shoved them into her, trusting she could hold it; knowing that she would.
Flesh slapped loudly against flesh.
Moans turned slowly into screams.
Lovett screamed into Sweeney's shoulder, biting down at the last second, tasting a mouthful of his cold, salty flesh and he pounded her mercilessly. She released violently, her entire body shaking and, shortly thereafter, jets of hot liquid shot through her womb taking over her insides as he growled like an animal at her neck.
Giving one another time to catch their breath, Mrs. Lovett thought back and never remembered sex to be this invigorating. She had loved her Albert dearly, as was expected, but his size prevented much of any feeling or difference in their actions. Thankfully, at least, they always had sense enough for him to be on his back.
The sensations coursing through the little woman now were different to her, and enjoyable beyond reason. She felt pain, soreness, stiffness, pleasure, completion. Even if this event were to never take place again, she would at least die knowing what true sex felt like and she was happy with that.
He shoved himself through her one last time for effect, then pulled away, buttoning his trousers.
"That's right, love. Now you know. No more wondrin' in that pretty little head of yours. You can dream of tonight if you'd like. Cause it may not 'appen again, Nellie." With that, he headed to the other room, leaving her to finish her cleaning.