Like a Horse Made of Air
Chapter Eight: Life is Made of (A Thousand Moments)"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Wren pants with her head thrown back against his shoulder. "Fuck."
His knelt under her, one arm round her waist the other hooked over her shoulder while he pulls her down into his thrusts. Her arms are wound over, clutching the back of his head with needy hands, as he nips where her shoulder meets her neck and laves the sting away.
"That's it," he urges. "There's me good girl. You're goin' to cum on me cock, eh? You're goin' be good and cum for me?"
Then he shifts the arm about her waist to flick his fingers over her pearl and she sobs as her inner walls clamp tight around him.
When she'd come back around after that first orgasm under his hand, she'd thanked him by waking him from his doze with her mouth on his cock. And while there hadn't been anymore breath play that night, there had been very little sleep happening.
He lets go of her shoulder and she tips forward. She braces on her forearms as her hips lift as he pushes up as he rises over her. He's grunting now, his thrusts longer and harder from this new position and soon she's bracing her hands against the headboard to push back at him as his hands grip her hips hard enough to bruise. She has no idea how many times he's wrung pleasure out of her, but she feels the flutter starting deep inside her that says he's going to get what he wants again.
He fucks her right through her orgasm, no pause or hesitation. He's going for his own pleasure now, her body a means to his own ends. She feels it as he stutters, his cock twitching hard inside her swollen passage, then he's snarling and holding her in place as his hips grind—fierce in his release.
He comes to rest atop her as they lie in a sweaty, sticky heap of satiated flesh. The sound of their heaving breaths replacing the slap of bodies colliding. He gathers himself enough to tip them on their sides—she can't help the little noise of protest as this inevitably causes him to slip out—and he drapes an arm over her.
The light shifts with the rising sun, and they should be thinking of cleaning up and getting around for the day. But it doesn't take long at all before her minds shifts back to the body cradling hers.
She's sore and aching, but utterly insatiable.
As if he knows, she feels his hand slip back between her thighs as he sinks two of his thick fingers into her. She moans as he curls them inside her. Not puling out but extending and flexing them in a come-hither motion. He moves her so he can get his other arm around her and messages her breasts.
"You know," he muses over her shoulder. "You told me repeatedly that sex was your vice."
He twists his hand and sinks another finger into her as he keeps her body from curling with his grip on her breast.
"Suppose I ought to believe you now," he continues. "If I could get it up again right this second you'd let me fuck you right into this mattress wouldn't you? Just take you, over and over, as many times as I please."
He starts adding just a shallow thrust to the rhythm he has going between her legs, thumb putting just a little pressure on her pearl without rubbing. Her eyes threaten to roll back in her head as she clings to his arms as little whimpering mews escape her. She's an absolute mess, his fingers making more and more obscene noises as he adds more force.
"Should maybe look for something in those books of yours," he carries on. "See if there's anything that can make me hard quicker, and for longer."
She keens as he lowers the hand from her breast to put pressure on her lower belly. When she cums she actually blacks out.
She's only out for a few minutes, but it's enough for Tommy to call a halt. He helps her clean up as he cleans himself too, before he leaves her with a kiss. It's just as well, she's hardly lounged for a few minutes before her ladies show for their workday. With Ada not yet finished with school, she sends Trisha off to shadow Annabeth. Then she turns to her garden and recipes with easy enthusiasm.
Returning to Watery Lane is both good—the kids are sweet—and disappointing. She hosts the big dinner, and networks, and spends time with the little ones. Then most the party disbands, but something has caught Tommy's attention and his business runs late.
She's on the edge of sleep when he finally comes up. There's an edge of something in him though.
"You look wound tight," she tells him as she rolls over to watch him get ready for bed.
His smile is a thing with teeth, "we have a potential new buyer."
Wren props herself up against the wall the bed is stood against, "found your break?"
"If this initial run pans out," Tommy tells her as he settles on the bed with her. "They aren't looking for petty contraband, they want bigger. Motorcycles and cars, the like. We'll be able to get much more in for lifting those."
"Why haven't you been targeting them then?" She asks curiously.
"We don't lift without a buyer," Tommy states. "Times we got caught before it was more to do with having been forced to sit on them than the initial grab."
"What about the cigarettes and liquor?"
"Easy to move and less distinctive. To be safe we keep them at petrol boat moorings at junctions, so there's always more than one way out." Tommy tells her.
She nods thoughtfully as she leans into him, and he puts an arm around her.
"Hopefully this buyer works out then," she offers as she nuzzles into his shoulder.
He kisses the top of her head before he nudges her to get in the bed proper. They share a few kisses before sleep claims them.
She sits with Ada at the table in the House and slides the official paperwork over to the younger woman.
"Here we are," Wren smiles. "Your contract. You are now officially a Runner for Wren's Respite."
Ada laughs brightly as she grabs up the papers and looks it over then moves to hug Wren.
"Thank you," Ada beams.
"You're welcome," Wren laughs warmly. "Now I've one more thing for you before the others get here."
"Yeah, what we got then?" Ada asks curiously.
Wren grabs a box off the counter and lays out several tins, "these are contraceptives. Each one is a bit different, so I'll go through them with you and then you can decide which one you want to take."
Ada goes a little wary at this, the flicker of something suspicious on her face, "why you offering these to me?"
"I've made a habit of offering them to all the people who work for me, even Trisha," Wren deflects casually. It's not even a lie.
Ada relaxes, "oh, alright then."
Wren grabs a tin and starts explaining while Ada listens attentively.
Wren hears him coming but is still caught by surprise when Tommy catches her up into a spin.
"Alright, alright," she laughs. "What's this then?"
"We've the buyer," he grins at her.
"Oh, Tommy," she breathes. "Congratulations. It's a start."
He kisses her there, heedless of the fact they're in the Shelby house.
"How was goin' over the books with Arthur," he asks later as they get around for bed.
"I think I've convinced him to try drawing again," she tells him as she turns down the blankets.
"He used to carry a sketchbook everywhere," Tommy says quietly as he looks into the cherry of his cigarette.
She holds out her hand to her lover, "so buy him a new one to carry with him."
Tommy accepts her hand as he settles beneath the blanket, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"Aye, think I can manage that," Tommy sighs.
"You're a good brother," she tells him.
He reaches over and kisses her goodnight, the lamp by the bedside turned low.
She smiles to herself as she watches Tommy with the kids. John's four, Finn, Isiah, and a few other Peaky kids crowded around the man as he reads from the book she's brought home. The lighthearted tales of childhood adventures drifting on the air in that low rasp have every little head spellbound, hanging on every word.
There's a sudden rush of chatter as the kids discuss the stories amongst themselves when Tommy calls it quits. Tommy himself is listening attentively to little Mary as the babe talks excitedly, balanced on Tommy's knee with a steadying hand at her back. Arthur has at some point joined them, Amy and her brother Carl watching with awed faces as Arthur draws something for them.
Polly stops next to her in the doorway between the kitchen and front room with her arms folded loosely around her own waist.
"Before Tommy brought you here, I didn't think much of you," Polly admits casually. "After, well, you never know how these things will go. Lovers come and go. But, you're good for him. Good for this family."
"Thank you, Polly," Wren replies calmly.
"Don't give up on him," Polly sighs quietly. "I don't know why he's waiting so long to give you a ring, but he will. I'm sure of it. Just don't give up on him in the meantime."
"We already agreed to be partners, Pol," Wren tells her seriously. "Whether or not he ever gives me a ring doesn't matter. I'm already all in."
"I don't know what the fuck to do about John." Tommy near snarls as he comes into the room.
She lifts her gaze from the book she'd been reading while she'd been waiting up for him.
"What's he done then?" She asks.
"George was down by the Cut," Tommy sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head in his hands. "Hanging with some school kids. He fell in and the little bastards scattered leaving him to fend for himself."
"Is he alright?" Wren worries as she twists to lean against Tommy's side.
He puts an arm around her and leans his head against hers, "aye, he's alright. Lucky Charlie was passing through at just the right time, or we'd be arranging a funeral with a child sized casket. I tried to talk to John about it, but he was passed out under the table in the snug at the Garrison."
"Never mind John then," Wren tells him firmly. "You need be getting someone for those kids."
"What am I supposed to do? Find John a wife?" Tommy asks.
"Or you could go the less dramatic route," Wren lifts a brow at him, "and hire a nanny for the kids."
"A nanny," Tommy states blandly.
"You wouldn't even have to hire a stranger," Wren says with sudden happiness. "Keeva needs work. She's Donald MacIntyre's oldest daughter."
"MacIntyre's a good man," he says as his face eases into something thoughtful.
"And Keeva loves children," Wren tells him. "She waded through a great deal of bullshit to get an education to teach the younger kids, only for the school here to deny her application. I'm fairly sure she'll accept a job as a nanny, and she'll be reasonable about it. I could talk to her?"
"Go ahead and get it done," Tommy sighs. "We can't wait on John to do it. Let me know her rate and I'll cover it."
"Alright," she agrees. "I'll track her down tomorrow."
"John Shelby's kids?" The pretty red head asks with surprise. "I thought Polly looked after the Shelby kids."
"For a certain definition of looking after," Wren offers the woman a wry smile. "She's rather out numbered."
"I mean, I want the job," Keeva backtracks. "I was just surprised."
"That's fair," she assure the other woman. "Tommy will be paying your rate, so if you or the kids need anything he'll be the one to go to."
"Not John?" Keeva frowns.
"He's…I don't know if it's to do with strain leftover from the war or if he's just disinterested in actually being a father," Wren sighs. "But the end result looks the same. He shouldn't give you trouble though. And if he does send him to me or Tommy. You're not being paid to deal with John, you're there for those kids."
"I understand," the red head nods. "When do you want me to start?"
Wren pauses then sheepishly asks, "…now?"
Keeva looks decidedly amused, "sure, sure. Just let me grab a few things and I'll head on over."
Wren finds Tommy in the shop and hands over the new nanny's contract.
"She's agreed then?" He asks as he skims it.
"Already over to John's even," Wren grins. "Dropped her off on me way. Told her you're the source of her income so if she or the kids needs ought she's to come to you. Also told her if John gives her any trouble to send him our way. She's being paid to watch the kids, not handle him."
"Fair enough," Tommy rolls a cigarette across his lip before lighting up. "I'll try to catch her later and see about setting up a budget."
He sets his smoke in the tray and cups her face before leaning in for a kiss, "thank you."
"You're welcome," She smiles and then steals another kiss.
"Are you going back out?" Wren asks Tommy as she comes around into his office.
"Aye was going to spend some time at the Garrison," he replies. "It's a Saturday."
"Would you mind stopping by Birch House and grabbing a few things for me?" She asks as she leans against the corner of his desk. "I wouldn't ask normally, I know you'll be out late, but I've already failed to grab them three days in a row. I'd just run and grab them but it's already dark."
"What do you need?" He asks.
"A few journals," she tells him. "I've been meaning to go over some new recipes."
"How about I walk you to the house and you grab what you need," Tommy decides as he stands up and grabs his jacket.
"Smart man," she laughs as she leans up to kiss him.
They walk in relative quiet as they set an easy pace linked arm in arm. The crowds part around Tommy even this late at night, making the trip easier than it might have been. She steps up to unlock the door, but the handle turns in her hand, and she stills to look back at him.
Tommy instantly shifts to alert and draws his gun and whispers, "behind me."
She nods and carefully eases back, drawing her own gun and whispers, "ready."
She keeps her steps light and angles herself to best cover him if she needs to. The lamps on in the kitchen, blatantly announcing the thief's presence, and they make their way across the front room and to the doorway. Tommy pauses a beat than swings into the room gun up, with Wren half a step behind him.
Only to find her sister Ella sitting at her table, eating Wren's biscuits and counting Wren's money.
Shock freezes her in place, staring down the barrel of a gun at the other woman. Ella's frozen too, eyes jumping between one weapon to the other with her hands raised palms out.
Tommy lowers his gun, but Wren doesn't.
"Christ," Ella finds her voice to laugh, "you think you're actually going to shoot me? I'm your fucking sister."
Wren is suddenly and violently submerged in the same icy rage that had seen Langley dead. All the fear and uncertainty she's felt for weeks meets the years of resentment and fury tamped down in her chest and ignites into a bitter flame. She cocks the hammer and braces for recoil before Tommy shoves a hand over hers forcing the gun down as she squeezes the trigger. The sound of the gun firing is made louder by the enclosed space followed by the nearly as loud scream Ella lets out as the bullet hits the floor.
The silence is so loud it almost drowns out the sound of their harsh breathing.
Ella is looking at her like she's never seen her before.
"I hate you," the words well up and out Wren's mouth. "I fucking hate you, you self-entitled sorry excuse for a waste of fucking space. How dare you? How dare you break into me home and steal from me? After everything, you honestly think I wouldn't gladly see you dead? How damn stupid are you?"
"Easy," Tommy tries to soothe, his hand still holding the gun pointed at the floor but Wren steps back and pivots dislodging his grip.
"No," Wren seethes. "She doesn't get to have it easy. Not this time."
"I don't care about her," Tommy declares firmly—to Ella's choked protest. "I care about you. And while I'll gladly pay the coppers to look the other way, it'll bring attention to you that you don't need. Even if you don't end up in jail for it they'll know you killed her."
"Self-defense," Wren grits out. "Came home and found an intruder. I reacted to a perceived threat."
"Not here, Wren," Tommy insists. "Not in your home."
"Is that what you're worried about?" Ella cries. "She almost fucking shot me!"
"I'm going to fucking shoot you," Wren snaps at the same time Tommy says, "shut the fuck up."
"I was already miserable, Tommy," Wren tells him. "And she took every chance she could get to make it worse. Every time she did something wrong, it came down on me. Every time I wanted something, she ensured I'd never get it. She's the reason I got banned from being near horses! She fucks up and fucks up and fucks up. But somehow I'm always the one who pays for it. I finally have something, something that's supposed to be mine…and she fucking breaks in and steals it!"
"You don't fucking deserve any of it!" Ella suddenly screams.
Wren turns the gun back on her, but Tommy moves and for one long horrifying second the barrel is pointed at his chest. Wren tries to point it anywhere but at him, rage giving way to a wild-eyed fear as the gun goes off and his body jerks.
He'd been so close the blood spatter had hit her; she can feel it on her skin.
"Tommy," she gasps shakily.
Tears slip from her eyes as she looks at him. The blood on his shirt. The blood on her hands.
She blanks as his body sways, and he reaches for her. She can't watch him fall. She can't—she can't be the one to have.
No.
Tears blind her as she turns and flees. Runs from the house. Runs from the street.
Time twists again. Her hands shake. The red crusts to brown and flakes off. She doesn't know where she is, isn't sure she cares.
Every time she closes her eyes she sees that gun pointed at his chest. Every loud noise is that gun firing. Her tears drip, hot as spilled blood.
She sleeps badly, if she sleeps at all. Chokes down food that tastes like ash and water. Wanders the sky roads.
She's a ghost again.
She killed a man once, because she didn't want him.
She killed the man she loves because…because why?
Ella fucks up and Wren pays the price.
Why did she pull that trigger?
She's cold.
She knows what it looks like when a man dies. Watched his corpse bounce on the stone. Heard the meaty wet smack as it hit. She hadn't regretted it. Still doesn't.
She still wants to kill her father.
Still wants Ella on the other side of her gun.
Is this her punishment, then?
Watching Tommy die, over and over, every time she closes her eyes.
Her hands shake and the cold seems to seep from her bones.
She cries and the tears burn.
Tommy has said violence hits different depending on who you hit.
She gets it now.
Why did she pull that trigger?