He walked into his bedroom, mind flooded with plans and strategy. A man had been watching him in parliament lately. Alfie wasn't as dead as the world believed- though, it was never a sure thing, was it. Michael was fighting his leash, making choices Tommy couldn't easily dismiss. The family was off, everyone retreating into their own corners. And always there was the itch under his skin, the ache of missing her. It was all too much, too fucking loud, and the dope wasn't enough to quiet it anymore.

By rote his hands moved to his tie, loosening the knot and pulling it free. His cufflinks were next to go. They looked like the ones he'd had before the war, but they cost five times as much. He stared at them where they sat on his dressing table. Deceptive things, hiding their value behind their simplicity. Used to be him that was like that. Not now, not anymore. Wasn't sure what he was anymore.

The door opened. He didn't turn, only Lizzie'd be coming in at this time of night. And only Lizzie would forego knocking. He wasn't sure when she'd stopped knocking at the door, honestly. He shrugged his shirt off and tossed it onto a chair. It was in Lizzie's hand when she stepped into his line of sight. He watched, absently, as she hung it in the wardrobe.

Then she was moving to her vanity, taking off her jewelry. That caught his attention. She didn't wear jewelry much. Not since they got married. But she was wearing a diamond and ruby bracelet and she'd rubies in her ears. Her dress was one of the nicer ones- the type she only bought when he told her to. It was late, he realized, and she was only just getting in. "Where were you?"

She glanced at him through the vanity mirror. Not the one Grace had used- that was in the attic. "Dinner with Mrs. Whithe. She's offered to introduce me to her daughter's dance instructor for Ruby." He blinked, trying to remember a man named Whithe. He vaguely recalled a fat man with thin hair and a wife nearly half his age. "She likes to dance, Ruby," she said. It was hesitant, though, like he wouldn't want to know.

She wasn't wrong. Ruby was only just coming up on her fourth birthday. Her liking dance now didn't mean much. And him knowing wouldn't help with business. A new instructor was one more stranger coming into the house, another person who might hear too much. But it was too late now, wasn't it. "Fine." He stepped out of his trousers and tossed them onto the chair. Lizzie picked them up and put them away. He went to the bed and sat down. "Come here."

Lizzie paused. He didn't say anything. She'd come. She always did. And after another moment she turned and moved to stand in front of him. "Tommy…" He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. "Why?" New, that. She'd never asked him that before. He locked eyes with her for a long moment. But there was no reason, really. His head was mucked up, he'd not fucked in a few days. And she'd married him, hadn't she? The two went together- marriage and fucking.

His hands slid up her sides. "Need a reason, now?" She turned her head away. He might have wondered about that, but it didn't matter. He'd stop if she asked (always had, always would) but she wasn't. His fingers moved to the clasp of her dress. He paused then, fingers toying with the fabric a bit, waited for her to look at him. Then he pulled his hands away. Lizzie reached up and undid her dress.

He watched, eyes skimming absently over her body as the dress fell. Tomorrow he'd call Margate. He needed to check in on Alfie. Then he'd call Michael. Figure out what the fuck he was doing. His hands went back to Lizzie as he stood up. He turned her around so her back was to him. She crawled onto the bed, hand going between her legs to get herself ready. He was already half hard. A quick stroke of his hand and he'd be ready.

It still surprised him how little she had to do for him to get hard.

Going onto her hands and knees Lizzie looked back at him over her shoulder. Tommy reached out, grabbed her waist with one hand. He pulled his cock out of his shorts with the other. He waited for her nod before sinking into her from behind. She pressed her face into one of the pillows. Tommy relaxed a bit more. It was easier this way, not seeing her face while they fucked.

She was tight, warm and soft. And wet. Not enough. His cock was hurting her, he knew. But it was enough she wouldn't complain. And he liked the bit of friction. Helped clear the mess from his head. His hand tightened on her waist as he pulled her hips tight against him. He pulled out and slid back in. Not gentle, but just slow enough to let her get used to him. She nodded again.

Then his eyes went to the wall above her head. He thrust his hips forward and sunk his cock in hard- deep. Pulled out and did it again, faster. Set a rhythm. Fast and hard, hips moving just so. His hands were tight at her waist pulling her into him. They'd done this enough he barely had to think about it. Knew how to bend her to make it feel a bit better for her. Knew the way she moved against him. It'd take a while for him to finish with his head like this, though. Not the right state of mind.

(Not the right woman, either.)

Tommy closed his eyes and let Grace's face fill his mind. He thought of the smoothness of her skin and the scent of her perfume. He rolled his tongue, tried to remember the taste of her there. And it was good. Fuck it was good. His head fell back as he went deeper, pleasure building slowly. A small sound broke him from his fantasy. He didn't look. He knew Lizzie had her hand between her legs again.

Her cunt grasped at him a bit tighter. He pushed in a little faster. The bed creaked a bit. He'd have someone oil the springs. Lizzie whimpered. The staff said she'd stopped eating supper. His hands slid up to her ribs. She felt a bit thinner. He'd ask her about it. Didn't need anyone thinking he couldn't feed his fucking wife. He was close, now. Tommy pulled her up a bit, changed the angle. He let a hand wrap about and find her tit. His fingers pinched her nipple and she clamped down tight around him. She pushed into him harder, trying to get him off. It worked. He came, spilling into her through the vice grip she had on his cock.

His hand fell away from her tit as he caught his breath. Pleasure wrapped around every part of him. His muscles were weak and relaxed. And finally his head was clear. No buzzing, no thoughts, nothing but quiet. It'd be gone soon, so he didn't pull away. Just let himself sink into the quiet for a bit.

He was bent over Lizzie's back, hands braced on the bed to keep him up a bit. His breathing came in harsh pants when he opened his eyes. Her head was turned toward him. He almost looked away. He didn't like looking at her after they fucked any more than he liked looking at her during. But he caught a small movement. Her hand was almost hidden by the pillow she'd been lying on, but he saw it. Her finger was tapping against the bed. Steady, timed, familiar. He forced himself to look at her eyes. She was staring off to the side, expression falsely pleasant. A chill rolled down his spine.

He stood up straight, pulling his cock from the warmth of her body. "Sit up." His voice was cold, but he felt a sliver of panic making it shake a bit. She'd not notice, but he did. Slowly, finger still tapping, Lizzie sat up. She turned around so they faced each other, confused look on her face. But still her finger tapped out a steady rhythm. He nodded to her hand, "How much do I owe you?"

She froze.

Her eyes went to her side. He watched her as realization came to her eyes. But she didn't turn away in shame. She didn't flinch or try to apologize. "Feels like before. Guess instinct took over." He tensed at that. She didn't. She shrugged her shoulders as if she hadn't just said that being fucked by her husband felt the same as when she'd been whoring. As if she hadn't been counting the time. As if she wasn't calculating how much he'd owe her at the end of a fucking hour. Another shrug, "Sorry."

But she wasn't. Not really. His eyes narrowed on her for a long moment. "So how much?" She rolled her eyes. "Used to be four pence for an hour, yeah? But that was before. You're respectable now, can charge more." She turned cold, angry eyes on him at that. "What would a high end girl charge, then?" He was pushing, he shouldn't have been pushing. But fuck her. Fuck her for letting him see. Fuck her for the guilt welling under his skin.

Fuck her for being vulnerable when he didn't want to see her that way.

She slid from the bed and marched angrily over to her vanity. She grabbed her silk robe and slid it on. Then she walked to the bedroom door. "The going rate for a man of your status is two pounds. Leave it on the vanity." She yanked open the door before turning back to him, tears bright in her eyes, "And fuck you, Thomas. I won't apologize for not being Grace for the rest of this fucking marriage."

She closed the door behind her gently.

Seemed louder than if she'd slammed it.

He started watching her when they fucked.

She always tapped. No matter her mood or his. He'd call for her in that tone he used and she'd start tapping. Her finger, her foot, didn't matter. And when they were done he'd watch her. He'd not noticed before, but he noticed now, the routine she followed. He'd watched her. She'd go to the washroom, wash him off of her. Then she'd put on her robe and leave the room. She'd come back a while later with a cup of tea- he could always smell the whiskey in it, though.

It was familiar to him, that routine.

Hadn't he watched her do it dozens of times? Back when she'd been his whore and not his wife. He'd asked her about it back then and she'd told him. 'It helps me settle back into my skin after.' He'd not gone back to her for a month after that. And now it was happening again in his own fucking house. But even seeing it, even knowing what it meant, he couldn't be any different.

Anger burned under his skin when they fucked now. There was no more quiet when he came. No, it'd been replaced by this guilt instead. Because even if she wasn't the woman he wanted, should she feel like a whore in her marriage bed? But he couldn't give her anything else. What was there to give? Him touching her the way he'd touched Grace? Him loving her the way he loved Grace? No, never that. Even if he'd wanted to, Tommy'd never give her that.

He watched her, laid across the bed before him. He pulled up his shorts while Lizzie rubbed herself to completion. It was a little thing, the way she came. A quick gasp before biting her lip. Her cheeks would flush a bit as her toes curled against the sheets. Then a deep breath and a slow blink and it was over. She focused on him as she came back to herself. "What?" Her voice held the smallest tremor.

He turned and walked to his dressing table. He pulled out his wallet even as some rational part of his brain cursed his every move. He pulled out two pounds and walked back to the bed. Lizzie was frozen, propped up on her elbows and watching him like he was poison. And wasn't he? Toxic to everything he touched? He tossed the money onto the bed between her legs. "For the hour."

She sat up slowly. He watched as she reached out, head high and eyes burning. She picked up the money and folded it carefully. Then she got up on her knees and crawled towards him. He waited for the slap, waited for the cursing. But there was nothing. "One day, Tommy, you're gonna tell me what I did for you to hate me this much." She got down from the bed and walked to his dressing table. She dropped the money on it, gathered her robe and left the room.

His eyes stayed on the money she'd left behind. Shame flooded him, but it didn't last. Anger pushed it away, shoved it down deep. She didn't ask for anything. She didn't spend his money frivolously. She held him when he'd nightmares. She looked the other way with business. She fucked him even though she knew who was in his head and his heart. She loved him and never asked him to love her back- didn't even hope for it. She didn't even fucking hope.

And that's why he hated her.

It was different that night.

He'd been drinking. And he'd taken a sip from the little brown bottle he kept in his office. His head wasn't so loud with the alcohol drowning it. So when he saw her lying in their bed, he didn't hate her for not being Grace. He didn't want to use her to quiet his thoughts. No, he looked at her as herself. Lizzie- dark haired and green eyed, with long legs. Lizzie- soft, and kind, and with good tits.

He shrugged out of his shirt and stumbled a bit getting his trousers off. But his eyes stayed on the woman in his bed. Warm and nice with a tight, wet, pretty cunt. Did she have a pretty cunt? He'd never looked, had he? Couldn't remember. He'd look. He took an unsteady step towards the bed. "Lizzie…" She turned over from where she'd had her back to him. Her eyes looked odd. Shiny. Was she crying? "Is Pretty Lizzie crying?" She was pretty, wasn't she?

"You're high."

She sounded annoyed. But he didn't like that. He didn't want her annoyed. He wanted to see if her cunt was as pretty as the rest of her. "Lizzie. Don't be mad." She hummed something, but he didn't know what. Didn't matter, anyway. He wrapped a hand around her ankle and tugged. She rolled over then, eyes wide. "Don't be mad, Lizzie." He tugged again, pulled her closer. She sat up and that was good. That was really good. Made things easier, that.

"Tommy what-"

He pressed his lips to her neck. His tongue peeked out a bit, just to taste her. He'd done this before, a long time ago. But she tasted the same. She tasted warm and a bit salty. It's good. I like it. He pulled back so that they were face to face. She was biting her lip and her brows were knitted together. She looked confused. She didn't like it- meant he wasn't doing this right. His hand came up to rest against her cheek, his thumb tugging her lip free.

"Tommy… What are you doing?"

His brows furrowed. She didn't know? She should know. He leaned in and kissed her. He brushed his lips against hers softly, so not to startle her. She seemed nervous, Lizzie. But she felt good. His eyes slipped shut. So good. He wanted more. He brought his other hand up to settle at the back of her neck. The hand on her cheek moved to her jaw. He tapped the bone with his finger and she parted her lips for him.

Good. This is good.

His tongue slipped inside. She gasped a bit. He liked it. Made him press a little closer to her. Made him tighten his grip on her neck. He explored her mouth with his tongue, learned the taste of her. He'd known it once. He'd forgotten. How'd I forget, this? Faintly he heard a voice whisper to him. 'Happy or sad?' It made him hurt. He didn't want to hurt. He wanted to taste Lizzie. So he pushed the voice away. He let himself go back to exploring Lizzie, listening to the little sounds she kept making.

Lizzie's tongue flicked against his. But it was hesitant, like she wasn't sure it was the right thing. It was- it was the right thing. He teased her, made her chase him a bit. Her hand came up and slid into his hair, tugging the longer strands. That made his cock throb. It'd been getting hard, but he'd ignored it. Now, he couldn't anymore- didn't want to.

He took the hand at her neck and moved it to the bed. Then he leaned forward slowly, pushing her back down to the sheets. Her other hand landed on his chest, over his tattoo. She liked that tattoo, he remembered, always traced it when he was falling asleep. But then she parted her legs to make a space for him and he forgot about the tattoo. His cock was pressed against her. She was warm and wet through the layers of her nightgown and his shorts.

"Need you, Lizzie." She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her kiss turned a bit needier, then. And Tommy's head cleared a bit. He pulled back, eyes blinking open in time to see her chase after his lips. He dropped a quick kiss to her lips to satisfy her and she smiled. He liked it, seeing Lizzie smile under him this way. That hurt feeling nudged at him again. He paused for a second, almost let his mind wander to that dark place. But then Lizzie opened her eyes. She looked happy, and he liked her happy. So he didn't go to the dark place. He stayed with Lizzie.

He leaned in close, his weight on his forearms. One hand brushed her hair away from her face, then cupped her cheek. The other hand slid to her shoulder, nudging the thin strap of her nightgown aside. His lips were pressed to the soft skin there a moment later. His cock pulsed, she rubbed against him. He kissed the curve of her neck. The prettiest sigh left Lizzie's parted lips. He'd never heard that from her before- not ever.

Slowly, so slowly, Tommy trailed a line of kisses from her shoulder and down to the jut of her collarbone. The fabric of her nightgown was in the way, though. He sat up a bit, brought Lizzie up with him. Lizzie blinked at him with lust-heavy eyes. Then she was pulling her gown over her head. Tommy's hands went to her waist, gliding up the soft, firm flesh slowly. He cupped her breasts in his hands, thumbs playing with the nipples. Lizzie's head fell back on a sigh. But he didn't let that, or the sight of her, distract him.

He laid her back down on the sheets. His mouth went back to her collarbones, kissing along them. Then going lower. Lizzie's hands went to his shoulders as he kissed circles around her breasts. His hands moved to her sides, holding her down when she arched up into him. He licked and nipped at her nipples, making her twitch and moan. She'd soaked through his shorts. Made the friction better when she rubbed herself against him.

Her hands slipped between them, pushing his shorts down. Then her hand was wrapped around him, stroking him slowly. His hips jerked forwards and he bit down on her nipple harder than he meant to. But the pain had Lizzie gripping him tighter, tugging harder. Made his head fuzzy- fuzzier than the dope and the drink and Lizzie's happy smile. She widened her thighs a bit and guided his head to her entrance. So wet. So good. She rocked up so he slipped inside. He groaned. "Lizzie." His breath hitched as he sunk into her deeper. " Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie…" Could it have been like this always?

He pushed that thought away- it brought the hurt.

She set the pace, Lizzie did. Slow, but hard. Steady and strong and so fucking good. He met her rhythm, met her every move. But his hands stayed light as they moved over her. His lips and tongue worked her gently. And it was the same for her. Her hands ran through his hair gently. She trailed her fingers along his spine with feather-light touches. It was nice and easy mixed with desperate and rough.

His head cleared a bit more, the drugs wearing off. But he didn't pull away. He didn't go faster or try and stop the intimacy. Because that's what it was- intimacy. It made his skin prick, that. But he moved through it. A flash of gold caught his eye. He knew. He knew it was her, that she was watching him. But he forced himself not to look. Because it'd been good, this. It'd been good being with Lizzie like this. It was good when he wasn't thinking and letting his head get in the way.

And he liked seeing Lizzie smile.

He lifted his head from where he'd rested it on Lizzie's chest. He took in the way her lips were parted and the way her face was relaxed and the way she looked fucking happy. He'd never seen her like this, so…open in her pleasure. He pressed into her harder, watched her eyes fly open and her breath catch on a startled, "Tommy!" Felt her nails bite into his skin. Felt Grace's eyes on him. Felt a prick of guilt settle into his chest. Harder to push away than the hurt. Harder to ignore with those blue eyes waiting for him to look over.

He looked over. Just barely. Just for a second. And there she was wearing the dress she'd worn on their wedding day. Her hair long like it'd been when they first met. And her eyes… He looked away, guilt clawing at him. Pain flooding through him. His eyes met Lizzie's for a moment. He hadn't noticed her hand on his cheek. But he felt it now- it burned. And he saw the concern in her eyes. Watched it turn to something else- something harder. Her hand fell away. She turned her head to the side.

Her hand dropped between them. Her fingers wrapped tight around the base of him. She sped up a bit. Tears came to her eyes. But she didn't say anything. Didn't ask him what happened. The guilt flared brighter. But this time for Lizzie being hurt as well as betraying Grace. Because she'd been smiling and now she was trying not to let him see her cry. He hadn't even said anything. He hadn't changed his pace or the force of his thrusts. But she'd seen and she'd known.

She let go of his cock.

Pleasure shot through him, flooded him, drowned him. His hips jerked against her, cock pulsing inside her as he came. His breath was a broken, ragged, thing. His head dropped to her chest, his hands fisted the sheets tight enough his fingers went numb. And when his head cleared, when he could breathe again, he tasted blood in his mouth. From biting his tongue. To keep from calling Grace's name.

Lizzie pushed him off of her.

Tommy sat up- watched as she walked to her vanity and picked up her robe. Grace was standing next to it. Fucking hurt seeing them stand next to each other- one real, one only real to him. Lizzie went into the washroom. He listened to her clean him off of her- like he was one of her johns again. She stepped back into the bedroom. He watched her walk to the door. It was familiar, the hurt and anger in her eyes, the way she held her head up despite both. "I won't let you keep hurting me, Tommy." Then she was gone.

Grace came toward him.

He turned away…

But she didn't leave.