Rating: R for prostitution/sexuality and language.
AN: Oh man, this one came out weird. I hope you're happy, Dani.
Reminder
When it rained in London, it poured. It was to be expected, of course; the sky had been dark all morning, and the way those murky clouds ominously rolled over the horizon suggested that the storm coming would be a vengeful one indeed.
As such, it would be wise to get this over with as soon as possible. Not that he cared about such prudence or even the rain itself; he just wanted it to be finished. Over and done so that he could leave with a mite of his aggravation satisfied and this experience pushed to the deepest corners of his mind, forgotten with the darkness.
His shoulder blades were beginning to ache ever so slightly as they were pressed roughly against the alley wall, and every indentation in every brick seemed to stand out against his back. He wanted to dwell more on this irritation rather than her, but that was becoming increasingly difficult as she forced herself into him, holding him by the wrists for support. He did not like this position; it felt too oppressive, too confined. But she was too clumsy and focused more on finding that special point where he would groan in pleasure and let her be the one against the bricks as he had his way. Her hasty, sickening efforts could be halted, and he could easily overpower the woman and send her falling to the ground in a writhing mess. He knew he could. But rather than end this disgusting little display, he readied himself for her next thrust and seethed as she released her right hand from him and slyly traced her filthy fingers down his abdomen and onto his groin.
"Do it," He challenged, voice little more than a deadly, dangerous whisper. She muttered something in a cracked, uncertain tone before her hand moved to tighten around his regrettably erect penis and squeeze. Back tensed harder against the wall, a short gasp escaped his throat, and he began to lean down and down until he was sitting with her crouched before him, still gripping and now leaning forward to rest her chapped lips on his.
No.
His free hand went behind her back where he harshly pushed her closer. Her chest heaved in surprise and fear, and her fingers abruptly released his dick. Exactly what he wanted as he shoved her forward into him with such ferocity that she uttered a choked cry of pain. Her groans steadily increased in volume as he relentlessly pulled her near, and it was not until he felt her warm tears trailing down against his cheek that he realized she had buried her face against him, muttering nonsense words in a conspiratorial voice. He was even more so taken aback when she actually had the nerve to wrap her arm around his waist before moving to free his other wrist so that she could do the same with her remaining one.
Nononono-
"Like him, you are. Warm."
The first words he heard her speak coherently before they had begun. It rather disturbed him, though not as much as what she had to say next.
With a snarl that bordered on infuriation, he promptly knocked her off of him. She hit the ground in a heap of rags and stared out at him from under the shadows of a tattered, ruined bonnet with bemused, horrified eyes as he got to his feet, pulling his trousers back up and buttoning them with hasty fingers. He did not look at her, did not speak to her. With rash movements, he dipped a hand into the front pocket of his vest and threw the penny he retrieved at her. She lowered her head and only scampered to pick it up once he wordlessly stalked out of the filthy alleyway and onto the streets.
It began to rain.
Mrs. Lovett was sitting behind the counter with a dirty cloth in an attempt to tidy up an even dirtier tabletop when the first drops of rain fell. It was not long before a steady drizzle became a terrific downpour, and she frowned. Mister Todd had been gone an awful long time; close to an hour, she reckoned. The silly man was liable to catch his death out there if he was still milling about, but she couldn't help that. Not now, at any rate. She could search; oh yes, she could and she would if she didn't hear his incessant pacing upstairs before long. Such noise had become, for better or worse, a part of her daily life, for she took great comfort in knowing that he had returned to his rightful home, even if the man residing up there was not the bright, eager young barber of fifteen years ago in heart. Spirit was gone, but body remained. She was thankful for that, in some melancholy respect.
Even more gratified to know that it was he who had returned, not her. Let the foolish little thing rot on the streets away from them with her foul tongue and pickled mind. She was eager to give up her life, so it would be very well if she let them live theirs in peace. And peace was what Mister Todd needed, after all. Poor dear, out there alone in the storm...
The baker sighed, despondent.
Wasn't right to find solace in wandering, wasn't right at all—
Footsteps on the warped, old wooden stairs outside. Mrs. Lovett glanced towards the window, squinting to get a better look at the figure moving in the rain outside. She caught sight of a familiar black leather coat, and sighed in relief. Only Mister T come back to his shop. It was not before long the all too natural, relentless treading could be heard upstairs.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling in a soft gaze.
Back in its proper place, just like she expected.
He watched the rain fall from his window with distant brown eyes. Tempting to stand out there and let it wash over him; rain to wash it all away, rain to cleanse the body.
He only wished he could wipe his mind clean from that awful memory, that awful, horrifying thought that bit at him with sharp, cruel teeth.
Slut. Bitch. Nothing but a God forsaken tart.
It was painful to admit that he may have been just as horrible as she was for seeking her out there, letting her lead him into that dingy little back street and fuck him. It was a simple need that drove him to go to her, an act born out of a desire for sex of any kind. This was not Botany Bay where the sight of a woman felt like the visitation of an angel, and he was all too aware that he could have easily gone to the baker for the same if not more efficient treatment. London was full of whores eager for coins who would have no qualms over eating a man inside and out for his purse. And that beggar woman…well, she was a persistent one. Acting like he had not seen her scuttling about outside the pie shop, leering at Lovett through the windows. Acting the clever teacher, trying to coax a reaction out of the inept student until he made her scream on her knees—disgusting.
And yet…
No. Don't think about it. Forget it. Just a whore on the streets. Speaking lies for gold.
But he could not. He could not just put it aside so easily, and he expected it would continue to haunt him for quite some time.
Touching her, exploring her body even in his apathetic, half-hearted way…
Stop it.
Sweeney held his head in his hands and closed his misty eyes as he reflected that even here, even now—
Stopitstopitstoppitstoppit—
That entering her felt the same, if not identical, to entering Lucy all those years ago.
"Warm. Just like my husband."