I haven't really got much to say for myself…'cept that Mr. T really needed it! Maybe it'll calm him down a bit, keep him away from the throats of all those fan girls peeping in the windows. Yep, humanitarian, that's me.

Upstairs

The slam of the upper door had wakened her immediately, and she had laid in her bed listening to the tread of boots down the stairs before getting up. Mrs. Lovett was concerned. Mr. Todd hardly ever left the shop, and it was most always in her company, at her urging even, that he did so. Had he gone to find something? Someone? He had had two in the chair that day, and surely that was enough. Besides, who would want a shave at such a late hour?

The hour grew later as she sat, wrapped in her robe, looking out the window to await his return. She lit a small lantern on the table, disliking to waste the oil, but unable to sit in the dark alone thinking that he might not return. He might not. A tumbler of gin did little to ease her mind, and she was about to pour herself a second, larger portion when heavy footsteps made her hurry to the side door to peak out the glass.

There was Mr. Todd, looking as serious as always, free of blood spatter, not as always. That he had come back comforted her, but there was little time to take pleasure in the fact as there was a notable addition to the scene. Hanging on Mr. Todd's arm was a young woman, dressed in a pink dress with dirty ruffles peaking out from underneath the hem. Her yellow hair was stringy, falling on either side of her face. She leaned in to whisper to him, and he indicated the stairs. As they turned to proceed up, Mrs. Lovett burst clumsily through the door, catching them before they made it more than two steps up.

Doing her best to simulate a calm conversation, and completely disregarding the fact that she had opened the door hard enough to bang it against the wall, Mrs. Lovett set one foot solidly against the bottom step and leaned casually against the rail.

"Good evening, Mr. T."

"Mrs. Lovett," he deadpanned.

"And where are you going with this little missy, eh?"

"Upstairs, Mrs. Lovett."

A decent man would have some shame, she thought, but, then again, when one was killing by day what was a little roll by night?

"I don't think so, Mr T. Ya see, nothing's as bad for a lady's business as havin' a strumpet or two brought in. For ya know it, people'll say I'm running a brothel 'stead of a bakery. Catch my drift?"

She met his angry eyes evenly. It was her house, and he was her…her barber, at least. Grunting in disgust, he turned to stomp up the stairs alone, slamming the door hard enough to rattle its glass, and leaving the poor prostitute to her own devices with Mrs. Lovett.

"Shoo, shoo," Mrs. Lovett waved her away like she was an old cat, "go on, then." She watched the indignant lady of the night disappear around the shop's corner before turning her attention to upper room.

"Poor Mr. T, all alone," she said as she entered. He had removed his coat but had not gone to bed. He was sitting in the chair, seething. His glare followed her as she shut the door and walked across the room.

"I don't mean you no harm, you know. It really is about me business," she lied, and she knew it, but to hell with honesty.

"Get out."

"Now Mr. T, I came up 'ere to tell you that I never meant to deny you anything, and that," she turned to face him, "we can come to some kind of arrangement." Though her words might have been innocent enough, the fact that she was attempting to undo the tie of her robe was not. He didn't seem to notice until she dropped the item to the floor and began to unbutton the front of her long, loose gown.

"What are you doing?"

Did he sound nervous? She wasn't sure.

"Now Mr. T, I wouldn't want you catchin' anything form one of them filthy 'ores men pick up by the docks, but I understand what a man needs, and," she dropped the gown, "I'm quite willing to have a go with you."

She stood in front of him clothed only in her underwear, breasts exposed, letting his dark eyes rake over her pale body, waiting to see if he would take her up on the exceptional offer. Mrs. Lovett was not a virgin, but she felt like one. Albert had been a kind man, most of the time, and a gentle, if not astounding, lover. Mrs. Lovett thought Mr. Todd would be different.

And he was.

The movement caught her off guard, and before she could make a sound, Mrs. Lovett found herself pinned to the narrow bed under the weight of Mr. Todd. What unfortunately joined them, however, was one of the silver razors, and she found it pressed to her throat.

"Don't taunt me, Mrs. Lovett," he growled, the sharp edge biting into her flesh and sending a slow drop of blood down her throat and onto the mattress. But even as he said it, he was laying almost completely on top of her, and she felt the press of his hard manhood against her thigh. That was better than the cold silver at her throat.

She wanted to move, to push her hips up against his cock, to seduce him with pleasure as she kissed him, but the blade prevented it.

"Please," she asked. Please take me, please have me, please put down the god damned razor.

He studied her, in no hurry to do anything. His brow was furrowed, his lips pursed, slightly, in thought as if he couldn't figure out what the woman wanted. She felt more blood seep along the razor's edge and down her throat; Todd's eyes caught it, widened; he sat up to straddled her hips, and then the razor slipped from her throat. With a hand on either side of her head, the razor resting on the right, he leaned forward, breath warm on her ear.

"Pretty women," it was a whispered snatch of a song, and then his lips were on her neck, brief kisses along the trail of red there, replaced too soon by the textured surface of his tongue. He lapped slowly at the blood, leaving a trail of moisture on her skin. A shiver ran down her body even as he shifted his cool lips onto her own. As his tongue entered her mouth, she tasted her own copper blood, foreign but not, and somehow forbidden.

The fleeting unease faded beneath his heated kiss as he plundered her mouth, demanding she let him have control as he clutched at her hair. Feeling him rock his hips against her own, she moaned into their kiss as he pressed upon her with almost painful force, briefly, before drawing back.

There was not another pause for thought, since once he had decided upon a plan, Mr. Todd did have the patience to wait, let alone reconsider. He shifted himself backwards, legs straddling her fleshy thighs as he dipped his head to capture one of her pink nipples in his mouth. The wet suction produced an intake of breath, but the following nip with teeth expelled it with more surprise. Apparently more excited by this, he tug at the nub with his teeth, kneading her other breast with his free hand.

Mrs. Lovett reached up her own hand, hoping to touch some part of him. She had to settle on a brush of his hair, soft beneath her fingers, but even this touch in this fashion had been denied before, and the cross of one boundary made her seek out others. She wanted to touch his skin, but her second attempt was denied as he once more shifted out of her reach. The move brought him to rest between her loosened legs, her knees lifted on either side of his slender frame.

He had no patience for her remaining bit of clothing. Quickly he slipped the razor across it and severed the white fabric of her panties. He momentarily fingered the fabric, eyes darting to hers as the stickiness there clung to his fingertips. Dropping the garment, he brought his finger to his lips, licking along the length, watching her the entire time until his pink tongue flicked over the end.

Mrs. Lovett's panties were cast to the floor, and Sweeny's hands settled on her thighs as he leant forward to probe her tender parts with his talented tongue, starting with long, slow licks that drew a protracted mmmm from her lips. The pads of his fingers probed her entrance and she thought he would slip them inside her, but once again she was given physical proof that Mr. Todd was not predictable. There was a small snap and a slender warmth invaded her passage, but it was a strange hardness. Reluctant to move, but shaken from her pleasured state, she opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling.

Mr. Todd had stopped his work to look, but not at her eyes.

"Now Mr. T," she tried to sound casual, but a woman's patience could only last so long, "you know that's not what goes there."

"And what are you suggesting, Mrs. Lovett?"

She thought she heard a smile in his voice, and she almost moved to see if it had spread to his face, but suddenly the silver handle of the razor was slipped from her and two of Sweeny's fingers were buried there instead. His tongue worked quickly over her clitoris as he searched out the sensitive spot inside, stroking it just as fast. Mrs. Lovett pushed against his hands, her back arching as the tension spread through her body. Just as the promising light began to tint the edges of her vision, he stopped.

She took a long intake of breath, expecting once more to see the dilapidated ceiling as she opened her eyes, but finding Sweeny hovering over her instead. He took her lips again, and she could feel the anticipation in the joining of their mouths as well as in the frantic hand pressed between them working at the buttons of his pants. She wanted to offer her help, to look, maybe to have her turn at pleasuring him, but as his teeth moved to tug at her ear, Mrs. Lovett quite forgot what she wanted and as he entered her she nearly forgot her own name.

But she remembered his.

"Mr. Todd!" she breathed against his cheek as he pushed his length inside her. He leaned over her as he settled his hips firmly against Mrs. Lovett's. His breath was heavy against her ear as he leaned forward on his elbows, keeping his body close as he moved inside her. She shifted a little, drawing her knees up to wrap her legs around his waist. He sank into her repeatedly, not looking. Mrs. Lovett's hands twisted in his shirt, holding tightly to the sweat-dampened cloth as pleasure flowed through her body as he plunged into her in desperate abandon.

Mrs. Lovett wanted to encourage him, maybe to comfort him, but all her words became tangled and she managed only a low moan as she threw her head back against the pillow. Strands of his wild hair hung across her face, and she moved a hand to set it back in its place, caressing the back of his head momentarily before pleasure forced her to seek firmer hold once more.

He shifted his hips, sitting back and staring at her with piercing eyes as he continued to move. She watched the rise and fall of his chest between the disheveled panels of his shirt and vest; she tried to look at his face, wanted to see if desire had made its way there, but the light was once more clouding her vision and she gave herself up to the moment, shuddering as a wave of spasm took her body. It was with a vague, distant sense that she felt him grip her hips hard, deliver two or three deep thrusts, and then tremble above her.

The little room's reality intruded upon her perfection once again, and she felt only cool air. Mr. Todd sat on the edge of the rickety bed, staring at the floor. Slowly she got up, the bed squeaking as she removed her weight from it. She wrapped her robe around her naked form and smoothed down her hair. Her hand was on the doorknob before he spoke.

"Mrs. Lovett."

"Yes?"

"Would you bring me up a cup of tea?"

"Happy to, Mr. T. Back in jiff," she smiled brightly as she descended the steps and was sure to put on her best silk house shoes before she went back up.

-finish-

Okay, I'll confess, I'm a slash writer moonlighting as a lemon writer…but it seems I have a few more of these in the works, so what do you think? Please review! Perhaps you'd like another lemon….or maybe just a shave…

Thank you for reading,

Miko No Hoshi