Chapter 52)Breathing

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Tommy didn't dare to breathe.

Because he was fully aware of how he royally fucked up everything he'd managed to fix between Maria and him.

He hadn't slept, of course he hadn't. When did he ever sleep? He didn't, not really, not unless you counted those short moments between passing out and regaining consciousness.

He did sober up through the night though, much to his regret.

Once the ritual unleashed into celebration, Tommy had wrestled in accepting the presence of the Third Eye. It had been crippling his thoughts; mazing through his damaged head, searching for his fear of losing control because if he lost that, he'd be back in France; six feet down in the mud and soil of rotting carcasses. If the effects of the mushrooms would have seized their magic around those memories he'd be in hell. For hours.

But instead of losing his mind all over again, he found her. Down in the mud and grass, petrified of the influence coming from ancient heathenism.

From that point on, his own demons had to take a step back because this irresistible desire to protect her burned all over France. It destroyed every jitter of dread, root of fear, until there was a scorched down emptiness he desired to fill.

She was beautiful, even when blood marked her, even crying her lungs out, even deep down into the soil. She was beautiful; he'd even tried telling her that before realising he was making a fool out of himself.

He'd intended to shelter her; at least that was what he'd been telling himself. Like some unchivalrous knight in shining armour, he'd lured her into one of the tents. The rest was history.

As the hours passed closer to morning and the effects of the mushrooms lessened, Tommy became painfully aware that last night's escapades could mean the beginning of the end.

He, a gypsy bastard, deflowered her and made her fall from grace; he'd taken his advantage.
In a rather short amount of time, he was going to lose her, again.

Her body stirred as her head was still lazily resting on his bare chest. Discreetly, his hand abandoned her waist; reluctantly he craned his head to the side to stare up at the textile ceiling.

He was far from dressed properly; she was still naked. He could feel her chest rise against his, the skin to skin contact warm and comfortable.

He'd cut off his right arm in order to maintain this sacred little bubble for a little longer.

But he'd used up his luck a long time ago.

Maria's consciousness was surfacing and to allow her a proper bit of privacy, Tommy rolled to his side; it would prevent a lot of awkwardness for the both of them.

Her body weight shifted, she was sitting up and pulling most of the blankets along.

"Tommy?" Her voice was still groggy from sleep and Tommy quietly counted the seconds before reality struck her.

"Are you awake?"

Tommy debated inwardly, if he'd pretended to be asleep he'd be able to postpone the inevitable for a little longer. But cold toes poked his lower back, ushering him to respond, or at least wake up.

And who was he kidding; they both knew he never slept, so why keep up the act? Reluctantly, he rolled on his back half expecting to be slapped in the face; he knew first hand she had a good right hook when tempted. Her eyes fluttered all over the place, everywhere but him. But her arms were firmly wrapped around her knees, fingers twiddling with the blankets.

"I didn't know you could do that, with your tongue," Maria whispered uncharacteristically forward while hiding most of her face behind her knees.

Tommy's brows arched and his jaw fell slightly ajar. Did his ears betray him? A passage from the bible would have been more suitable given the situation; about hell, about this abomination that had taken place right between the sheets she managed to wrinkle more and more.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking an awfully long moment before eying the sullied woman.

Holy Mary; exposed in both the literal and figurative sense and brave in her own special way. She'd abandoned everything she presented as sacramental; last night and many nights before. And it hadn't been simply because he'd been her family's protector, it couldn't be just that. Their roles of employer versus employee had been what tied them together, but all the events that happened after made their fates intertwine. And maybe the effects of last night's trip hadn't completely left his system yet, because he wanted to tell her that of all the countless sins he committed, she was his favorite one.

Of course neither words, nor sounds fled from his lips still hanging slightly ajar.

Tommy's fixation made Maria's cheeks burn red. She looked away, her hands finding a distraction; smoothing the wrinkled sheets.

Watching her cringe in awkwardness made Tommy fight back a smile that wanted to break out. What happened next felt remarkably natural; he pulled her into his arms and pulled her back against his chest.

Her hand flinched away when he took hold of it, her heart fluttered rapidly against his chest. Allowing her time to compose herself, Tommy stared up at the fabric ceiling of the tent. His fingers stopped caressing the back of her hand once the tension left her limbs and her head rested still against his chin.

There was peace in his mind, in his heart and Tommy wanted to memorise this moment, frame it, lock it, keep it.

Letting go of her hand aches, but was a necessity. Her head stirred and craned up as Tommy's hands mapped out a question up in the air.

What do you know about sex?

The way her breath caught in the back of her throat was the only clue that showed she read his question. Droplets of rain formed on the rims of the tent, soaking through the fabric. For a while, the only sounds between them were the drips.

"I know it hurts," Maria finally settled, "that it's a woman's burden," she continued in a hushed whisper as if the mere mention of the subject would make lightning strike down on her.

"My best friend Betty met a boy once. He promised her the world, so she let him get his way with her. That boy took her virginity; a doctor took her baby and most of her private bits. They ruined her, in every possible way. That's what I know about sex. It's a deviant act that ruins girls and enrages men. My father flogged me once for kissing a boy; I couldn't sit straight for a week. My uncle beat and starved me for simply being linked to you. Russo, if I hadn't cut him, he would have raped me. Sex, it brings out the worst of the worst in men."

Although Tommy didn't show it, he silently agreed with her. The walls of his parents' house had been awfully thin and all the Shelby children had been forced to overhear their parents fuck. Fuck, because there never had been any form of intimacy between his parents. His father simply took what was his. And his mother had simply been a thing to fulfill certain needs.

When she wasn't enough anymore their father found his release in whores and alcohol. On rare occasions, Tommy had to pick up their father at a brothel. That used to be Arthur's job, but at times, his older brother seemed to have vanished into thin air.

During one of those times of begging and pleading for Arthur Sr. to come home, their father thought it was time for his second oldest son to man up. His father booked him some 'private time' with one of the working girls, merely for his own deviant entertainment.

As a prepubescent boy, he stuttered a panicked refusal. But his father backhanded him and called him a faggot among other things. Apparently, there was no place inside their household for such a mistake and if he wanted a roof over his head he better walk after those pretty long legs.

So at a relatively young age, he had a literal first hand introduction into the world of paid sex. The prostitute, noticing his young features and dreadful look, had been kind to him. Giving him a quick hand job and a kiss on the cheek before collecting her fee at his father's hands.

He'd cried silent tears all the way back home, leaving him with tenebrous feelings. It had felt good but mostly very wrong and it made him feel incredibly dirty inside.

Once home, their mother caused a scene, calling him a good for nothing man like his father and slapped him in the face. When he sniffled his way upstairs, he'd earned a meaningful soft tap on the shoulder from his older brother, giving him some comfort to know that someone else shared the same dread.

After that first time, it took him so many more meaningless fucks to feel less helpless and filthy.

"It makes absolutely no sense," Maria pondered, "that I want to be this close to you." She reached up a little, craning her head so she could look him in the face. Her eyes were large and puzzled.

"Last night, was that all gypy witchcraft? Because I know I've gone mad, I could feel it. Inside my head, in my bones, in my soul. I heard my mother cry and could swear I smelled my late father. Among all the madness, you were the one and only thing that still made sense to me. And when I realised that, it was good. Everything seemed right and felt good."

Her lips barely finished the last word before Tommy pressed his against hers. He took her by surprise and she squirmed a bit, mouth opening to either ground or pause him. He didn't give her the time or the space to create distance, because he was done with the void that seeped in between them the moment things get serious.

He was done dancing around each other; he was done with her remaining this reserved innocent little creature while she was able to set him on fire with one simple bat of her lashes.

There was tension, the curiosity of fingertips. There was the lack of clothing and of restriction, at least on his part. His hands found her thighs with ease, mapping the outlines of her features. Once she stopped resisting and kissed him back, he lost himself for a bit.

God, how many times had he fantasised about fucking her in various positions, in various locations? Late at night, while having his hand down his long johns, panting. It made him feel perverted and depraved. Because during those moments of dirty quick relief he was thinking about the only good catholic girl in Small heath, who valued her morals above her own life and had so much to lose.

I won't ruin you, he needed to tell her that and so he did between kisses. Through heavy lids, she stared at his hand gestures and then scanned through his fingers to read his eyes.

I won't, he promised. A smile flashed across her face, creating slight dimples on either side of her cheeks. It was brief and gone quickly, replaced by stern creases between her brows, battling her self-doubt.

She dipped her head down; insecurity momentarily being the victor.

Tracing the silhouette of her face, Tommy wondered if she truly grasped the value of his promise. Not just for this one, but all of them. Inside that church in Amsterdam, he'd been sincere and honest. During his drunken fumble inside his office he might have acted possessive, but he'd had good intentions. He was just damn bad at expressing them in a civil manner.

And that was the thing, the whole bloody thing. She did that to him; turned him into a bull inside a fucking china shop. He'd always been poor at expressing himself. His upbringing had molded him into a person who gained either self-worth or materialistic value by causing damage on others. And that gift was both a blessing and was a curse, because he could not stop that quality. It was in his nature.

She caught his hand as it traveled down her neck. Each of her shoulders curled in, towards her chest, which the blanket shielded from being completely exposed. A chuckle escaped his throat, Holy Mary, never someone to be loud or extroverted. Except for last night, surely their poor neighbours must have overheard some of the noises she made. Which he summoned up from inside her.

Not caring about her awkwardness, he took hold of her chin and tilted it up. They were close, barely dressed and he was thinking about things he wanted to do with her. He was aroused and she noticed too because his erection pressed against her hip.

When that didn't immediately startle her he took the liberty to put his arm around her and press her even closer against him. Her breath halted inside her throat and their eyes locked on like magnets.

Although sobriety kept her from responding to his kiss, that familiar glow inside her gaze allowed Tommy to continue without regret. He was done 'talking,' for his hands found a better purpose. Kissing her lightly, his fingertips trailed over the inside of her thighs.

Oh he wanted more, much more. It physically hurt to restrain himself to simple touches and brief kisses, but the way her hand glued onto his chest told him to take things slow.

Kissing the crook of her neck, he noticed how she trembled and how her breath caught in her throat. Her hips involuntarily jerked forwards, diminishing their space to thin layers of fabric. As his hands moved up from her thighs to cup her hips, her body squirmed in response, pressing firmer into his erection. He could feel her sex press against his and for a fleeting lucid moment, Tommy wondered how long he was going keep his libido under control. He'd never been shy about his sexuality, never shunned a one night stand. The list of brief encounters with various women was excessive and to some admirable. To top it all off, with the many times he found his relief inside the brothels, it was a quite easy to conclude that Tommy Shelby's sex drive was above avarage.

Another fact to add was that he'd been painfully honest about his abstinence after Amsterdam. Call it foolish idealism, but keeping it inside his pants was his personal way of repenting for all the carnal acts of possessiveness he'd forced upon her. For all the times he'd treated her as his personal lapdog and remained seemingly unconcerned as others treated her poorly.

She deserved better, much better then how he'd behaved towards her; questioning her motives, ridiculing her beliefs. Taking her for granted, using her in various ways to get what he wanted.

So, if he had to settle for passionless masturbation for another month, then he simply had to suck it up and take it like it is.

Easing his grip around her hips to prevent light bruises from forming, allowed her to withdraw a little. Watchful of accidentally overstepping her boundaries, he scanned her face to read her emotions. Her gaze was downturned, cheeks slightly flushed and she was biting her bottom lip thoughtfully.

Did he manage to fuck it up already?

The moment Tommy wanted to cup her chin and express his apology, Maria's hand on his chest started to travel down.

In response, Tommy froze on the spot, curious of what kind of emotion encouraged her action.
She must have some kind of understanding of what her actions meant, right? She knew where she was leading their current situation towards if she'd kept her hand from traveling down south, right? Even with her greenness of the matter, she must be aware of his response to her touch trailing down his chest, over his abdomen and resting cautiously on the cotton fabric of his johns.

Afraid she would stop the moment, he didn't dare breathe, Tommy simply held his breath as certain muscles in his abdomen started to clench.

Now he did cup her chin, because he needed to see her expression and tell her she didn't need to be doing this if she didn't want to.

When he met her eyes, he didn't see any signs of fear. She did however seem to need guidance though, on what to do next.

Tommy was more than eager to provide her with all the guidance she needed.

He took her hand and pressed it firmly on his long johns, on his erection, an inarticulate grunt escaped from the back of his throat as he moved their hands as one. He was so turned on it was painful and he wasn't going to last long.

He kissed her lips feverishly in response to her touch, wanting to give her something in return. It was hard to though, because every cell in his body seemed to be focusing on how her hand was stroking him.

He slowly released her hand and nodded when she stared intently up at him, questioning if she should continue. He was glad a nod was enough for her to measure his length, because he honestly wouldn't be ashamed to beg at this point.

She was hesitant, unskillful as this was her first time. And maybe that made it even better, because he was her first time and he simply was going to take and cherish everything she was willing to give.

The noises that came from his mouth weren't manly and the way his hips rocked forward into her touch made him feel like a horny teenager again. When his eyes rolled back and he came in his johns and realised he was just like a horny teenager again. She made him come in his pants with her hand and it had felt so fucking good.

He was riding out his orgasm and stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes. This should feel more embarrassing, but Tommy didn't give two shits about the sounds he'd made or how the moist material of his johns stuck to his skin. All his brain registered was her hand resting on his abdomen. Her questioning eyes were endearing; with her jaw slightly ajar and chin tilted to the side she seemed to be waiting for his next move.

Tommy had a brief inwardly debate about their current situation and decided he wasn't going to move. Not right now, not ever. Fuck it, let the rest of the world burn. He'd easily spend the rest of his mortal time inside this leaky tent with this beautiful creature latched onto his chest. Fuck Arthur, screw John, to hell with all his other unwanted obligations. Sighing contentedly, he cradled her head underneath his chin and stroked her hair. His other hand found hers. Each of their fingers laced together with one another.

Grateful for her silent reconciliation, Tommy closed his eyes and hummed one of the lullabies his mother used to sing.

.-.-.

A/N: did I spend an entire chapter on getting my two main characters getting all touchy and one giving the other an awkward handjob. Yes I did. Did it take me forever to write it down, yes it did. For all those smut writers, kudos to you! I had to cringe my way through dirt and shame to be able to get this down on paper.

On a more serious note, I'm not getting too much into detail but please be safe and take good care of yourself.

Lots of virtual love, Nukyster