A Fancy for Little Lucy

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: Charlie Bronson was on the outside for sixty-nine days, and in that time he became acquainted with a woman named Lucy Brannon who worked at a pastry shop and always saved the best chocolate biscuits just for him. Now he is back inside and the powers that be decide to try a little radical therapy in the hope of calming his chaotic and violent mind, but will Lucy be willing to go along with the treatment, and if she does, will Charlie be willing to let her go after all is said and done?

Disclaimer: This is a wish fulfillment type of fiction, written with Tom Hardy, the actor who portrayed Michael Peterson/Charles Bronson in the film Bronson in mind, and is in no way meant to be taken seriously. That being said, I have not and will not receive any monetary compensation for what I've written and the only thing that belongs to me is my OC, Lucy Brannon.

Author's Note: Yes, I am aware of the fact that none of the inmates who are incarcerated in the UK are allowed conjugal visits, but since I've already decided to throw everything else to the wind, I figured that it would be acceptable to overlook that bit of reality. I would also like to warn you in advance that I laughingly made an attempt to mimic Charlie's accent in his dialogue, and undoubtedly made several mistakes, which I hope you will be able to overlook in good humor, and give me the benefit of the doubt that I truly tried my best.

Just So You Know: This story is rated M for mentions of violence, a variety of cursing, and a whole lot of citrusy smut, both limes and lemons. You might also be interested to know that this is a one-shot, written in two parts, the first of which tells Lucy's side of the encounter, the reacquainting with one another and the lead-up to the lemony goodness, while the second part, which is Charlie's, details their connection with one another, and having to say goodbye.

~Lucy's POV~

The guards thought that I was a slut. I could hear every single word that they were whispering back and forth to one another as they escorted me to Charlie's cell, and there was a part of me that couldn't help but feel offended, even though I knew that they had every reason to think of me as they did. I knew that I wasn't a slut, I alone knew just how unqualified I was for a title like that, and I was tempted to tell them exactly what I was, just to shut them up, but I kept quiet, because I was certain that they wouldn't believe me, and even if they did, it would only serve to humiliate me even more.

I already had plenty of reason to feel mortified, after they had searched my person and the basket that I'd brought along. I knew that it was routine for them to do so, I knew that it was essential for the safety and wellbeing of myself, and all of those in the prison, but what I couldn't understand was why they felt the need to make little jokes and murmur ribald comments back and forth to one another as they searched the confines of my brassiere and my knickers. Well, truthfully, I did understand that as well, I just didn't like it, and I also didn't care for the fact that they'd all filched a chocolate biscuit from the basket, so that I only had five left to give to Charlie.

The walk to his cell seemed to take forever, but it was also over with much too quickly, and I barely had time to compose myself before the guards opened the door and practically shoved me inside. "Warden says that ye're to be given two 'ours wif 'er, Charlie," the tallest one said loudly, in a tone that was fairly dripping with leering innuendo. "I think that's bleedin' generous of 'im, but I can't 'elp but wonder what yeh're planning to do wif the 'our and fifty-nine minutes that yeh've got left, once yeh're done wif 'er."

The other guard was a younger man, and I would have expected him to be the one who would have made a comment like that, but he didn't say a word, he smiled instead, a smirk that made me want to wallop him a good one, and it would seem that I was not the only one. Charlie had been sitting on his bunk, watching me walk into the cell with a small smile curving his lips, but all traces of his pleasure were gone in an instant when he heard the guard's words. He was on his feet in a flash, barreling across the cell, with a look that promised mayhem, until I stepped in front of him and laid my hands on his forearms, and he came to a sudden stop, almost as if I'd flipped a switch inside of him.

"Don't give them any excuses, Charlie," I pleaded, knowing that he was still teetering on the edge of throwing all caution to the wind while he pummeled the guards. "I don't want them to have a reason to keep me away from you. You don't want that either, do you?"

"I don't want yeh to go away," he whispered, his eyes, which were heated by his temper, closing as he took a deep breath. "But 'e's got no right to speak that way about yeh."

I smiled at him and rubbed my palms on his forearms in a way that I hoped was comforting to him. "I don't care what he says about me," I assured him, turning to glare at the one guard, then the other. "The warden set this time aside for Charlie and me to have a visit with one another, and he stated, quite clearly, that we would have privacy as well…that means that it's to be just me and Charlie, if you please."

I knew that I was pressing my luck, speaking to them in that fashion, but I also knew that they, like most bullies, could sense fear in the air in the same manner that a shark senses the tiniest droplet of blood in the water, and I would see myself damned before I allowed them to see that they intimidated me. How odd, that the man in the room who was a violent criminal didn't frighten me, but the ones who were hired to keep order did…odd, and sad as well.

"Right," the tall one said, turning to smirk at his companion, who was happy to return the expression, along with waggling eyebrows and a few hand gestures that were simply too vulgar to be mentioned. "We'll just leave the two of yeh to it, then. Let us know if 'e gets a little too rough wif ye…though, I suppose, that might be the way that yeh fancy it, eh? Do yeh fancy it rough, Miss?"

It was all that I could do, to keep Charlie from pushing past me to reach the two of them until they'd left the cell, laughing like a pair of hyenas, but I finally managed to do so by twining my arms around his waist and holding on with everything that I had. I would imagine that I'd shocked him with my actions, Lord knows I'd shocked myself, given that I'd never deliberately touched him before that moment, but I wasn't about to stand aside and allow him to do anything that would result in the powers that be having any excuse at all to punish him any more than they already had.

Common sense said that I ought to have moved away from him once the danger of him reacting badly to the guards' presence had passed, but what place did common sense have in a room where two people who barely knew one another had been brought together for the sole purpose of making love? I suppose that there were those who would feel the need to point out to me that we were going to have sex, as opposed to making love, there were probably those who were more vulgar who would say that we were there to shag, or to screw, and the filthiest of all who would say that we were going to fuck one another, but I was a romantic woman, and I preferred to say making love, even if I was the only one who would agree with that descriptive.

I suppose that it really didn't matter what I ought to have done anyway, because Charlie decided that he was going to put his arms around me, those strong, positively massive arms of his, and pull me close against a chest that was equally strong, and just as masculine. He pressed his nose against me, first on the crown of my head, then lower, against the place where my neck met with my shoulder, and I sucked in a deep breath, and loosed it in a whimper when I felt his breath, a rush of warmth, on my skin.

"Yeh smell good, Lucy," he murmured, trailing his nose along my throat, breathing me in and heightening the quiver that kept shimmying about between my thighs. "'ow is it that ye always smell so good to me?"

His voice was always deep and rough, but it was even more so now, and, God help me, I swore that I could feel it; I swore that it had taken on life, and was running itself in a gentle, but possessive caress all over my body, concentrating itself in the spots that brought me the most pleasure. His voice, paired with the purely masculine smell that always emanated from him, encouraged me to be a naughty girl, and hasten things along, so that I might know all that there was to know about this man who fascinated me so completely, but I held myself back, because I was determined to take things nice and slow, so I might savor him completely.

"I suppose it's my perfume that you smell," I said, painfully aware of the fact that my voice was breathy and more than a little dreamy as well. "I'm glad that you like it, Charlie, because….."

"Yer perfume does smell very good, love, but that's not all that I like about yer scent," he said, pulling me closer, until I could feel him completely, a move that left me with no doubts at all about the effect that I was having on him. "There's the treats as well, especially the chocolate ones, and there's that blush ye always wore when I'd smile at ye...and there, under it all, I know that ye want me and that's the sweetest smell of 'em all."

I knew that my perfume smelled good, I knew that it complimented me, and I'd taken the time to spritz the spots where I wanted him the most, around my ears, on my neck, in my cleavage…and on my thighs, very close to the place that had only known pleasure through me, until today, that is. The aromas of the baked goods that I made on an almost daily basis tended to cling to me, so I understood why he could smell them on me, but how in the world did one detect the scent of a blush, not to mention the desire that was coursing through the body of another?

"Ye feel so good to me, little Lucy. Ye feel soft and warm and ye make me want to be a bad boy. Do ye want me to be a bad boy, love?"

I wasn't certain what that entailed, Charlie Bronson being a "bad boy", but I was fairly certain that I did want him to do just that. I suppose that I ought to have been scared, or at least cautious, given his reputation, but I knew that he'd never hurt a woman, and that convinced me to trust him. I won't say that it was the smartest decision that I'd ever made, truth be told, it might qualify as one of, if not as the dumbest choice that I'd ever made, but I'd thrown all caution to the wind when I walked through the doors of the prison and I sure as hell wasn't going to chicken out now.

"Yes, that's what I want," I said, boldly pressing against him, until the parts of me that were soft and warm were caressing the places on him that were hot and hard. "I want all of you, Charlie…I'm just a little scared is all."

He looked at me, with an intensity that made me shiver, and he tightened his hold on me, pulling me close. "Are yeh trying to tell me that yeh're a virgin, love?" he asked quietly, placing his mouth beside my ear, so that I would hear him clearly, and the feel of his breath and the caress of his lips and his mustaches, made me weak in the knees. "Is that why you're scared, hmm, little Lucy?"

It was funny how different that word could sound, depending on who it was coming from. Some said it disdainfully, some said it with pride, there were others who employed wonder and a few who used it to mock the one who'd saved their purity, and there was even an occasion, at times, for admiration. I'd heard them all, and I wasn't particularly fond of most of them, but it had never sounded anything like the way that it did when Charlie was the one who was saying it.

"Yes, I'm a virgin," I said quietly, and it felt like my face was on fire, due to the blush that had taken hold of me and refused to let go. "But that's only part of the reason that I'm scared."

His hands moved up my back, stopping to rub my neck, and then he brought them around to my face, cupping it in his palms. "Are yeh scared of me, love? Do yeh really think that I would 'urt yeh?"

He spoke to me softly, soothingly, but I could hear the tiny hint of disbelief, and something that was positively miniscule, and barely detectable at all, which might have been an indication of hurt feelings, beneath the gentle and comforting tone. He'd never given me any reason to worry that he would hurt me, despite his past, and I wasn't scared of him either, even if I probably should have been. I was afraid of what was going to happen, even though I wanted it to happen…dear God, it was such a mess, I was such a mess, and I felt like a complete fool, a silly, naïve fool, who…..

"Oh, now, don't cry, little Lucy," he said, bringing me out of my painful reveries with a start, then shocking me further by bending his head to trace his lips over my cheek, bringing the tip of his tongue forward to lick the tiny droplets off of my face. "I know that I might give the notion that I'm a mean bastard, but I'd never 'urt you, love."

He held me close as he backed his way across his cell, toward his bunk, and kept me in his arms as he lowered himself down onto it, bringing me onto his lap, as one might hold a child…though that comparison quickly went the way of the dodo bird as he positioned me with one of my legs resting on each side of his. I felt my face flame hotter and hotter as I felt his arousal surging against me, pressing against me in a way that left me in no doubt of his intentions, and an answering ache took hold of me and made me bold, so much so that I couldn't stop myself from moving against him, though I did so tentatively, then reveled in the groan that I brought forth from him.

"Can yeh feel what yeh do to me, love?" he asked gruffly, caressing his hands on my back, then lowering them, to rest on my backside, a hold that he used to move me, very slowly, against the hardness in his pants. "I'd say that yeh're making me act like a loony, but I was already there, wasn't I?"

I would have had to have been completely dead between my legs not to notice his erection, considering the fact that it was slowly, but surely, rocking me toward something that I'd only experienced by myself before this point. The throbbing between my thighs was becoming a pulsing rhythm, it was making me swollen with need, it was making me hot and wet and my hands grasped hold of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, digging my fingertips into his muscular strength, while I bit back one whimper after another.

"Kiss me, Charlie," I whispered, gasping as the fire within me heightened and deliciously threatened to peak. "I've spent so much time thinking about your lips; let me have a taste of them, please."

I knew that my tone was a pleading one, and I ought to have been ashamed of myself, to know that I was begging him already, when we'd only just begun to sample one another, but I was past the point of caring how I looked and how I sounded, because I was too busy concentrating on how, and what, I was feeling instead.

"Alright, love," he murmured, raising his hands from their grip on my bottom to my face, gently taking my cheeks between his palms, and rubbing his calloused thumbs across my lips. "We'll bof 'ave a little taste, won't we, little Lucy?"

I nodded and held my breath as he moved his face closer to mine, and then positively melted into his embrace the moment that his lips touched mine. I suppose that I'd convinced myself that his kiss would be rough, like the rest of him seemed to be, though I suppose that I ought to have known better, given that I'd already felt the gentleness of his touch. He kissed me very softly, almost reverently, and I felt delicate and beautiful, which were new feelings for me, ones that I could get used to, that I could learn to love, with no problem whatsoever.

The meeting of our lips remained soft and searching for several movements as we explored one another as a man and a woman, as Charlie Bronson and Lucy Brannon, not the convict and the sweet shop girl, but then the heat that had been lying between us, waiting for the kindling spark, caught fire and he deepened his embrace. I gasped as his lips grew hungrier on mine, then arched myself against him when I felt the tip of his tongue caressing my lips, coaxing me to open myself to him, and I was happy to do so, truth be told, I was downright ecstatic, and moaned when I felt the soft sleekness of his tongue brushing against mine.

"Ah, Lucy, yeh taste just as good as yeh smell," he said, pulling away from me, and smiling when he heard the tiny whimper that escaped me when I was deprived of his lips. "Will ye let me 'ave a taste of everything else, love, or are yeh going to make me wait?"

I smiled and blushed a little, and then I thought about places that he might have been thinking of tasting, and then my blush grew hotter and, undoubtedly brighter on my face. My experience with these sorts of things was solely based on what I had read, or what I had seen in movies, and it wasn't that I didn't want him to do those things to me, I was just afraid of how I might act, of how big a fool that I would make of myself, once he put his mouth on me and showed me all there was to know about a man tasting a woman in that way.

Of course, there was always the chance that he meant to put his mouth solely on my neck, or possibly he meant to nibble my earlobes, and that certainly didn't compare with my breasts, or, God help me, between my thighs, did it? I shouldn't even have been thinking in that way, it was more than a little presumptuous for me to do so, and as if that realization wasn't bad enough, as if that wasn't mortifying enough, I felt my face growing hotter and hotter, and the blush wasn't content to stay on my cheeks any longer either, which meant that my neck and my ears, not to mention the slopes of my breasts, were turning rosy in hue as well.

"Yeh must be 'aving some terribly naughty thoughts, given the way that yeh are blushing right now, little Lucy," he said in a low voice that was a beguiling and stirring combination of a growl and a purr. "Come on now, don't be shy, love. Tell Charlie all about it, won't yeh, please?"

His hands moved to the buttons on the bodice of my dress while he spoke to me, unfastening one, then another, until the swells of my breasts were exposed. I watched with wide eyes, holding my breath in anticipation, as he bent his head and hovered his mouth over my flesh. The warmth of his breath caused goose bumps to rise on my skin, and that made me shiver, a trembling that grew and took hold of me all over when I felt the fist silken caress of his moustaches. I slowly released the breath that I'd been holding in a sigh, then a whimper as he trailed his lips, and then, oh, God help me, the tip of his tongue over the slopes of my breasts.

"Oh, I can't," I said, grasping his smooth head with my hands, trailing my fingertips to his ears, to stroke, and pinch at the lobes, smiling to myself when I heard him growl, very softly, deep in his throat. "I can't tell you that, Charlie. You'd laugh at me if you knew why I was blushing."

He laughed at me anyway, even though I hadn't told him the secret behind my flush, but his chuckle was low and rough, one that was extremely seductive in nature, which made that quiver that he'd raised within me center itself between my thighs more insistently. He continued to unbutton my dress, until it was loose enough that he could pull it down, then off of my arms, and then his hands went to my bra and opened it, and I gasped when I felt the supportive hold around my breasts loosen and threaten to give way altogether.

"Yeh don't really think that I'd laugh at yeh, do yeh, love?" he asked, slowly sliding my bra down my arms, then off altogether, tossing it over my shoulder, to land on his table. "I was just 'oping that yeh might talk dirty to me, that's all."

I wasn't certain what I ought to say to him. I couldn't remember a single moment in my life when I'd had the desire, much less the opportunity to 'talk dirty' to a man. What should I say to him? How could I even hope to be able to express what I was feeling in words? I didn't know how to say what it was that I wanted him to do to me, or what I wanted to do to him, it just didn't seem possible…..

"Oh, dear God," I gasped, arching against him when I felt his hand, warm and calloused, as it encircled the bottom curve of one of my breasts, and then his thumb, the skin rough, and his touch gentle, as he slowly caressed the digit across my nipple. "Oh, yes, Charlie, please, just like that."

"That's more like it, Lucy, my sweet," he murmured, raising my breast and bending his head, quickly swiping the tip of his tongue over my stiffened flesh. "Tell Charlie all about it, love, every dirty, sordid detail."

The feel of his calloused flesh teasing my softness had been thrilling; I hadn't even allowed myself to imagine how different the sleekness of his tongue would be. He'd heightened the fire within me with the stroke of his thumb, and now he was making me move against him, whimpering and thrusting my hips, to caress that part of me that was growing more and more sensitive with each moment that passed against his hardened flesh.

"Ooh, yeh are a naughty girl, aren't yeh, little Lucy?" he growled, gripping my hips in his hands, and using his hold to move me in a faster rhythm against the flesh that stroked me just right, now and again, and made me moan his name. "Yeh're just the sort that I fancy, a nice girl, wif a naughty streak running through 'er. Yeh're my girl, aren't yeh, love? No one else's, just mine."

I was his girl, at least, that was how I'd preferred to think of myself, inside of my head, where no one else could hear me, or know my secret desire, but I'd always believed that he'd never actually seen me, not in that way, not how I'd wanted him to see me or to know me. He'd been too wrapped up in a woman who didn't love him, who'd never truly love him, and I'd thought to myself, more than once, that I would have been happy to treat him right, to give him anything and everything that he might have wanted…..

"Where did yeh go, lovie?" he whispered, moving his hands to my backside and pulling me forward, very slowly, achingly so, against his erection. "It doesn't say much for my powers of seduction, for yeh to be so easily distracted, does it, little Lucy?"

I wasn't certain how many lovers he'd had in his lifetime, and of the number that existed, I couldn't say how many of those had known him as the aggressor, but I could say, with no doubt in my mind, that his 'powers of seduction' worked very well at luring me into a state of absolute and all-consuming arousal. I'd never known that desire like this was possible, not even in all of my fantasies about him, and that was what I had to think about, to concentrate on, the fact that he was mine now, even if only for a moment.

"I'm right here, Charlie," I said, biting down on my bottom lip, very hard, to stifle a whimper when he rubbed against me in a way that felt absolutely magical. "That's where I've always been…you just didn't see me waiting for you, you didn't feel me watching you, did you?"

His eyes met, and held, mine, and continued to hold me in their grasp as he moved his hands from by bottom to the hem of the wife beater that was denying me all of the contact that I craved between my body and his. He pulled it up, and then off of his body, and slowly drew me forward, encircling me with his massive arms, pressing me against a chest that was warm and sculpted, and rubbed against my nipples in a way that made them throb in response.

"No, I didn't, Lucy love," he murmured, lifting me, to pull my dress completely off of my body, tossing it in the same direction that my bra had taken, leaving me clothed in my panties and my thigh-high stockings. "I was kind of blind, wasn't I? Think 'ow different my life could be right now, if I'd seen what was mine for the taking."

I knew that he'd been too wrapped up in Alison to see anyone else…but he wasn't wrapped up in her anymore, was he? It was my thigh that he was running his hand down, not hers. It was my stocking that he was rolling down at that moment; it was my panties that he was pulling off. It was my pussy that he was stroking with the calloused pads of his fingertips…..

Oh. My. Lord.

"Mmm…yeh're nice and wet, aren't yeh, lovie?" he murmured, gently parting flesh that was swollen and slickened by my need for him. "I did that to yeh, didn't I, Lucy, sweet?"

I could remember times when he'd come into the sweet shop where I worked, when his smile, or the way that he'd wink at me while he placed his order, or the rough and sexy sound of his voice would arouse me. I could remember times when he had made me ache between my thighs, just by being there, and concentrating all of his attention on me, but that was nothing compared with what I was feeling at that moment.

"Well, didn't I?" he asked again, his voice more of a growl than it had been before, as he flitted the pad of his thumb over the tiny button that had cautiously strayed from its protective cowl in response to my growing arousal. "Don't be shy, lovie. Tell me that it feels good, tell me that yeh want more, tell me….."

His words died away when I let loose a whimper that seemed to reverberate all throughout his cell. His thumb was stroking me, it was driving me closer and closer to the precipice of my release, and that was a notion that panicked me a little. I'd had an orgasm before, I was a grown woman, after all, but all of those moments had occurred when I was alone, with no one about to hear me or see me, and I couldn't help but worry about the fact that Charlie was going to know what I sounded like, and what I looked like, when he pushed me over the edge.

I was so close to what I wanted, to what I needed. My breath was escaping me in gasps and moans, and I couldn't stay still on his lap, no matter how hard I tried. I writhed against him, I jerked my hips in a rhythm that met, and matched, the stroke of his thumb and I was almost there, I could feel the first tremors tingling, I could taste the shouts of release that would escape me and undoubtedly be heard near and far…and then he stopped.

"No, don't stop!" I gasped, pleaded, almost sobbed, as I moved against him in a futile attempt to encourage him to continue. "How could you do that to me, Charlie? Couldn't you tell that I was almost there?"

He watched me for a moment and didn't say a word, then he stroked me, a long, light caress that made me shudder against him and had me biting down on my bottom lip, even though I knew that it wouldn't be enough to keep my answering whimper at bay.

"Yeh wouldn't look at me. Yeh wouldn't talk to me, and I don't want yeh moaning my name when yeh come if yeh won't do it while yeh're looking me in the eye, Lucy, love."

I'd heard it said that it was the ultimate bond that you could make with your lover, the final wall to be torn down, if you meant to have complete trust and honesty with them, to look them in the eye while you made love to them, but how could something like that apply to what Charlie and I had with one another? This was meant to be a onetime thing, and given his tendencies toward repeat offenses, it was a safe bet that he'd never be on the outside again. Did I really and truly want to open myself up to him like that, did I dare to take down every line of defense that I had, or did I choose instead to keep as much of myself away from him as I could in these few precious hours that we'd been given?

I slowly raised my hands to his face and hesitantly laid a palm against each of his cheeks. Maybe I was a fool to make the choice that I did, but it seemed to me that I didn't have any other choice in the matter but to latch my eyes onto his, just as he wanted me to, and I was pleasantly surprised by the pitter-patter of quivers that raced through me when his eyes met, and held tightly, to mine.

"Please, Charlie," I whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, running the tip of my tongue slowly and sensuously across his pouty bottom lip. "Please don't stop, my love. Please touch me some more, touch me all over, and make me yours. That's what I've wanted for so long, that's what I've hoped for, and dreamed about and…oh, God, yes."

He returned his thumb to my clitoris, and there was no more teasing or tormenting to be found in his touch. He was insistent now, relentless in his endeavor to drive me to the brink of, then over the precipice, into the release that had immediately sparked to life once he'd decided to have mercy on me and touch me the way that I'd begged him to do.

"Oh, Charlie," I moaned, biting down on my bottom lip in a desperate bid to remain as quiet as possible, but the sound of my voice was still loud enough to carry to anyone who might have been interested in listening, and surprisingly enough I wasn't all that concerned about who could hear me or what they might be thinking. "Oh, please...oh, God!"

I wasn't one who tended toward speech that could be considered blasphemous, but it would seem that Charlie brought that sort of thing out of me. He also brought forth an orgasm from my body that was unlike any that I'd ever experienced before. It was a quiver, a tingling that grew and gained power and intensity, building and building until at last it exploded all throughout me, concentrating most of its force between my thighs, of course, though there were waves that coursed through my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, which were curled tightly against the soles of my feet, and any and all thoughts that I had about remaining as quiet as possible were crumpled up and tossed to the wind as cry after cry of pure ecstasy escaped me, until Charlie finally took hold of my mouth with his and swallowed the sounds, holding me tight, until finally I grew still and slumped against him, limp and languid, with a smile of complete satisfaction slowly curving my lips.