A/N: I don't own Sweeney Todd.


III. Contentment

Inspiration: Lullaby by Emmy Rossum

It has become a regular occurrence now, their nights together. How it started she can't even recall anymore. All she knew was that she loved every moment of it—the way he reacted to her touches, the way he drove her to insanity whenever he planted heated kisses all over her body, the way he moaned her name and clung to her desperately as he reached his high—she loved every moment of it.

Yet she knows, despite their nightly routine, that his heart will never be hers. It will always belong to beloved Lucy, his virtuous yellow-haired maiden. She knows it will always be that way no matter how much she tries to convince herself that the barber has come to love her as much as she him. She knows she'll never have all of him; she'll never have him to herself. His yellow-haired angel will always be there no matter how much she tries to make him forget.

However, she is content. She is content with what she has now. It's an improvement after all (for he never allowed himself to be this close to her). He will never love her, and she has come to accept that. She'll never own him to herself, but at least—at least she can own him just for the night—and she is content with having at least that.