Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd. If I did, I assure you, he would be chained to my bed and made to do my bidding.
Now that we're all warmed up...
Mr. Todd nuzzled Mrs. Lovett's neck. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms crushing her to him. It was one of those dicey moments between violence and sensuality, Mrs. Lovett's heart pounding with apprehension and exhilaration; his grip hurt, but his body felt so good against hers...
"Let me shave you," he suddenly whispered in a husky voice, his lips barely brushing her ear.
Mrs. Lovett knew he was trying to be sexy, but she couldn't stifle the laugh that bubbled up into her throat.
"I know wot you do to your customers, Mr. T! I'm not about to put myself in tha' position!"
He spun her around and pinned her to the wall, pressing the length of his body into hers, feeling her chest heave and her petite body squirm futilely against his. Not that she really wanted loose. He liked to feel her writhe.
"And just what position would you like to put yourself in?" he growled, his forehead touching hers. He grabbed her wrists and forced her arms up over her head, slamming them into the wall. She was open, vulnerable, and enjoying it.
"I don't seem to be gettin' a choice lately," she whispered, nipping at his lower lip. "Now, jokes aside, love, jus' wot did you 'ave in mind...?"
"I want to shave you," he muttered, losing his patience, wishing she would just comply, and finally relinquishing his death grip on her hands. Instead, he gripped her upper arm and shoved her in the direction of the basin. She secretly liked it when he was so rough. He secretly knew it, too. "Go pull up that stool and sit."
He flipped the sign on his door to say "Closed" and she did as she was told, reasoning that it wasn't real obedience if she happened to want to do what she had also been ordered to do. Right? She hated doing what she was told. She dragged the tall stool from the corner over to the basin and perched on it, sitting with her back perfectly erect. Wit his eyes, Mr. Todd followed the enchanting curve of her back, from her shoulder blade, cutting in to her waist, and curving back out like an hourglass. Mr. Todd knew it wasn't just the corset that gave her body that shape.
"There's a good girl," Mr. T crooned sarcastically as he strode across the room and knelt beside her. He gripped the hem of her skirt, pulling it up, past her stockinged calves, her knees, up to her thighs, folding the fabric over and piling it in her lap.
He unlaced her short, black boots, slipping them off and setting them on the floor out of the way. Next, he slid off her garters, rolling her black and red stockings down slowly, relishing the reveal of her pale, shapely calves. Victorian men reputedly became aroused at the sight of a mere table leg. Even the finest turned wood had nothing on Mrs. Lovett's toned, slender legs.
"You know," he said softly, rising, "these have got to go, too."
He tugged on the lace-trimmed edges of her red bloomers, which covered most of her thighs.
"If you insist," she said, grinning, and lifted herself off the stool enough for him to slide them off delicately and toss them onto the floor.
Her legs completely displayed to him now, he could feel his desire stirring already, even before he had removed his razor from his holster. That was the real excitement, getting to use his precious friend on her, a marriage between the two things he loved to do most: shaving and Mrs. Lovett.
He stepped behind her to reach his pot and brush of shave cream, stirring it briskly and then kneeling once more at her side, her feet propped on the lowest rung of the stool, her legs together and gently bent at the knee, almost ladylike, if he didn't know better.
Oh, she had no idea what this meant to him...
He glided the shave cream over her legs, smooth, silky, fresh smelling. He loved this part, the preparation, the anticipation. The grace, skill, and care with which he made ready the customer for a shave--killing was thrilling, but Todd had not forgotten what an art and pleasure a simple shave could be.
Combined with the sexual dimension of Mrs. Lovett's arched back on the stool, her tiny waist, and of course, those beautiful, bare legs, it was the ultimate turn on.
She tensed a little as he unsheathed his razor, flipping it open with relish. He smiled darkly. She was nervous; he could sense it; it spurred him on.
He set the edge of the blade against her ankle, drawing it up her leg, revealing a long streak of pale, smooth skin, moistened and glistening from the cream. He drew another streak, and another, working his way around her leg, carefully drawing the razor over the curve of her calf muscle, her knee, her ankle bone.
His face, she noted, lost its brooding, unhappy look. Instead, his countenance was serene and focused, his eyes intense and interested, alert. Fiery. He was enjoying himself. She began to relax--a little.
To properly reach her thighs, he cupped her heel in his hand, straightening out her firm, luscious leg as his razor kissed her flesh. Todd's long, slender fingers barely touched the razor; it seemed to float in his hand. He was so graceful. His head tilted to the side, analyzing. Mrs. Lovett loved to watch him move.
When all the shave cream had been removed by the razor, Todd circled Mrs. Lovett to the table at her back to retrieve some lotion. It smelled of jasmine; it's possible he bought it just for her.
He stepped back around to her side, pouring out some lotion, rubbing it between his elegant hands to warm it. Mrs. Lovett smiled at the gesture. Starting at her thigh and working his way down, Todd rubbed in the lotion to keep her skin soft and smooth. He worked it in, massaging her tired muscles all the way down, easing the tension out of them little by little. When he was done, he sheathed his razor and kissed her softly just above her left knee.
"Beautiful," he murmured, running his hands lovingly over her legs. Mrs. Lovett was fairly certain he was referring to his job well done, rather than her actual legs. Still, it's not like she minded.
Just as she was beginning to feel completely at ease (and shouldn't that have been her warning?), Todd abruptly uttered, "Not quite finished," as he suddenly kicked the stool back, tilting it so that it rested on two legs, Mrs. Lovett scrambling to catch and prop herself against the table behind her to stay steady. He placed a hand firmly on her chest to insure that she could not aright herself. He always kept her off balance. It made her easier to handle.
He eased his hand up to her neck, not choking, only pressing. He loved to feel her rushing pulse. He propped his other elbow on the table, his body close to Mrs. Lovett's, his face near her neck, because of the height of the stool. The smell of her flowery perfume excited him as it mingled with his spicy shave cream. Her body was so warm, her heart still racing from the shock of falling backward. He loved her like this, unsure, a little frightened, under his control. He buried his face in her neck and hair, inhaling her seductive scent...
He removed his hand from her neck, drawing out his razor and sliding it up, up along her inner thigh, until the cold, dispassionate metal pressed against the soft, secret flesh between her legs.
"Oh, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett breathed, nervous, intrigued, aching for him even as she feared him...
He dropped down in front of her, forcing her knees apart quickly with his hands (he heard her gasp--he loved it when he shocked her), and gazed at the canvas of dark curls that awaited his artistic touch.
He picked up the cup of cream from where he had left it on the floor--it was entirely possible that he had planned all of this-- and applied it in soft, delicate strokes in between her legs. She shivered, but she was most definitely not cold; the scarlet flush spreading across her cheeks and chest attested to her rising temperature.
He set the cream back down and slowly pressed the cold metal of the razor onto her most private skin. She couldn't see exactly what he was doing, as he was obscured by the folds of skirt resting in her lap, which only made her more nervous. Her eyes searched his face, but he was examining her elsewhere. With only a handful of deft, light, masterful (and ticklish) movements, it was suddenly over, and Mrs. Lovett let out an audible sigh.
Mr. Todd sat back a little to admire his handiwork with a critical but approving eye. Mrs. Lovett began to feel a little uncomfortable as he kept staring at her there, even though he seemed pleased. Down there wasn't for looking at; it was for, well...other things...
Other things that Mr. Todd also had in mind. This had been a fantasy of his for some time now, and he was determined to see it completely fulfilled. He was quite excited, and determined to maker her enjoy this as much as he was.
Still kneeling between her legs, he wiped his razor clean on a cloth dangling from his pocket, then holstered his friend, his wing-man. He leaned back in towards her, his hands running over her thighs, slower this time, opening them slightly--or was that her?
He inhaled.
The combination of scents was intoxicating--the lavender of the soap from washing her dress, the musky, masculine scent of the shave cream, her rose perfume, and the earthy scent of her flesh, the heady, warm smell of her--overwhelmed, exhilarated, enticed him. He slid the tip of his tongue lightly along the silken folds of her warm skin, teasing her, nipping her lightly, making her squeal. He gripped her thighs harder, leaving red marks, but he wanted to make sure she wouldn't move. She had a tendency to squirm around which, though not always unpleasant, was irritating when he needed to focus. Didn't she know it was for her own good? He dug his fingers in harder and planted soft kisses on her inner thighs, and all around the area he knew she wanted him to pay attention to.
The contrast of his bruising grip and his tender lips was delicious.
Her breathing was already heavier, and he had barely begun. He ran his lips across her newly shaven, impossibly tender, smooth skin, flushed red from excitement; he parted his lips, tasting her delicately with his tongue again. He proceeded to draw his tongue up, along the centre of her entrance, opening her to him, to his mouth, to his desire. He moaned into her skin, and he heard her respond in kind as she pressed her hips against him, asking him for more.
He stole a glance up at her; still propped against the table (she didn't really have a choice) her head was tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted, that sumptuous bosom heaving like mad, threatening to pop out of her dress. Her hands were clutching at the table, white-knuckled.
He pressed the flat of his tongue at the top of her opening, sucking and rubbing there, soft then hard. He moaned into her again, the sensation of his deep voice buzzing into her skin making her moan again, deeper this time. Her hips moved with his tongue, maximizing his skillful administrations. Clearly, his artistry was not limited to knives, Mrs. Lovett dimly registered, pleasure clouding her mind with red, another gasp escaping from her lips unbidden.
He began to slow his pace and withdraw, trailing kisses down her thigh, kissing off the sticky side effect of the pleasure he was bringing her. He stood slowly, and she met his eyes, unable to disguise the look of disappointment and questioning they contained. Why did he stop?! He leaned over her, their chests touching, and he pressed his lips to hers. Without warning, he slid a finger inside her, and she moaned into his mouth. He drank it up and bit her lower lip gently.
"Well, now that you're primed, I think it's my turn," he said huskily, already unfastening his belt.
"Anything you say, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett said breathily, her sweet, compliant words belied by her seductive smirk and stormy bedroom eyes. God, how he loved that look, her smoldering eyes pierced straight through him, stripped him, made him weak. At these moments, he would do anything for her.
Lovett, taking advantage of his preoccupation with his pants, took the opportunity to right the stool, and thus free her arms. She boldly and firmly grasped Todd by the part he was attempting to free, making him freeze and obediently step nearer as she drew him forward, closer to her, right in between her legs. She reached inside his open pants, greedily drawing him out with a lace-covered hand and grinning naughtily as she placed him at her dripping entrance.
"Impatient, are we?" he growled huskily into her hair, and before she had time to respond, he buried himself inside her.
Todd was always careful to study her at this point; he prized the look on her face, her body language, when he first thrust into her. Her back arched, her fingernails dug into him, little pinpricks of pain that gave him goose bumps and made him feel alive. Her legs opened wide, her head tilted back, her pale, slender throat an offering, a sacrifice to him that he couldn't resist. He sank his teeth into her neck, slick with beads of perspiration, moaning gutturally, savagely, into her flesh and he thrust deeper, shallower, faster, slower, harder, and always, always making her clutch furiously at him and moan, her breathing ragged and clipped, always at the same rhythm as his thrusting, because the force of it shook her body. She felt tiny in his arms, they completely enveloped her, smothered her, her faced pressed to his chest now. He seized her waist--his hands could almost fit around it, it seemed--pulled her closer, anchored her to him, he couldn't get enough of her.
The stool began to rock back and forth dangerously; Mrs. Lovett clung more desperately. When the stool threatened to fall, Todd simply lifted Lovett off it (and he even managed to stay inside her, too--he was pretty proud of that--it wasn't easy), and lowered them both to the floor, where he proceeded to take her roughly once more.
He grabbed her hands and forced her arms up over her head, pinning her flat and holding her hostage, defenseless again. She writhed beneath him, drawing her knees up, opening her thighs, letting him thrust deeper, fiercer; she pressed her breasts into his chest, she moved her hips with his, she gripped his hands as tightly as he held hers, surprisingly strong.
He dipped his head down and surprised her with a deep, brutal kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth, tangling with her tongue until they were forced to break apart to breathe.
Mrs. Lovett sighed, the words "Ooh, Mr. T, yes.." smuggled almost subconsciously into her feverish moans. Her face and throat were flushed crimson, she was incredibly wet, and when she opened those dark, fiery eyes to stare into his with pure lust, Mr. Todd knew he couldn't hold on any longer--that intense look of hers had pushed him right over the edge. He hoped she was ready, because he couldn't stop his lust-driven body now even if he'd wanted. He began to thrust fast, impossibly fast, too fast for her to keep up with, and that was her signal that he was close. This, in turn, stimulated her to the point of no return as well, the throbbing ache between her legs reached fever pitch, she clenched around him, making herself even tighter, his spiky, curly hair teased her clit, God, it felt so good; their vision clouded over, rational thought evaporated, there was only the intense heat, their clothes sticking to them, the softness of her hands, tension, pulsing, convulsing, deep, deep moaning, and finally,
slow release, coming in languorous waves that covered them both, soothing their sweating brows and flushed skin. Mr. Todd withdrew himself and lay down beside Mrs. Lovett, spent, an arm thrown around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, relishing his musky scent, his smooth cheek against her forehead. They sighed deeply, tension still ebbing from their worn bodies.
They remained like that, on the cold, wood floor of his shop, for several minutes before they stood on wobbly legs and began to put themselves back together. Mrs. Lovett was sliding on her knickers when she paused. Mr. Todd observed her out of the corner of his eye, smirking, waiting for the reaction.
"Mr. T, wot--wot--wot is this?" she spluttered, hardly knowing what to make of it. Still, a smile was already creeping onto the corners of her mouth. She looked up at him, her incredulous chocolate eyes demanding an explanation for the big T her hair had been shaved into down there. She pulled her underwear the rest of the way up, tied the drawstring, and let her skirts fall somewhat indignantly. "It's like I been branded!"
Mr. Todd still did not respond; he knew if he opened his mouth yet, he would begin to chuckle and wouldn't be able to stop. The laugh was bubbling up already, as it were. That look on her face, he just couldn't help it; she looked so scandalized, so bemused, so damn cute.
"Is it as bad as all that, love?" he asked, knitting his brow and strolling over to her, holding out his arms. The undercurrent of amusement was apparent in his low, silky voice.
She just looked at him. She really did sort of like it in a very naughty, kinky, secret sort of way, but it was fun to pretend to be exasperated. She put her hands on her hips.
"Oh, so I'm your property?" she teased. "I belong to yeh?"
He sat down in his chair and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her possessively, squeezing her tightly.
He muttered fiercely into her hair,
"Yes."
Author's note: Thank you for the reviews!
Has anybody seen Vagina Monologues? This story reminds me of "Hair" and "Because He Liked to Look at It"!
Also, check out my trailer for "Sex and Chocolate" on YouTube! Search Morwynn sex chocolate!
