Title: Mrs. Lovett Likes it Rough. In Every Sense of the Word.
Rating: Bit mature. Er, 16 .
Status: One-shot. This is all there is, folks.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Disclaimer: Don't own shit but the style.
Author: Bulkprincess
Mrs. Lovett never wanted feint little kisses on her neck, or ghost-like fingers caressing her sides. She wanted a strong hand on her shoulder, insistent, serious, one-task minded. She wanted to be grabbed with fingers rough and needy because she was nothing soft and fragile that needed to be cradled and worshipped. She was a bundle of raw nerves and anyone would be daft not to see that when Mr. Todd walked by he made her hair stand on end in the best sense of the phrase.
Mrs. Lovett experienced that exact feeling again when his warm fingers curled around her neck, his other hand keeping the razor glinting in the lamplight well within her view. His fingers were warm, intoxicating, but his eyes were cold and although the contact of his skin filled her with a deep longing for his touch, his eyes chilled her to the bone. She wouldn't have minded being cut a bit. Maybe a tiny one. With Mr. Todd's warped senses he'd probably need to cut a little first to get him started.
But what was he waiting for? She'd done everything including throwing herself at him and nothing in return, not even a bit of a feel. No response from the man whatsoever. It must have been the song about having the worst pies in London that did it. She looked down between her legs and sighed.
"Albert liked you well enough, dearie," she said to her skirt and tipped another gulp of gin down her throat. "It's hopeless."
She stood and dropped her glass on the table, watching it roll away and crack on the floor. Mrs. Lovett wasn't one to give up so easily, especially since Mr. Todd was so close to her this time. He believed his wife dead, his child lost but he was consumed with the desire to murder Judge Turpin. There was no way she could talk him out of it. So she supposed it was all right to tag along. Once it was all over he would need a new obsession. Mrs. Lovett could think of a good one.
END