#doyenne

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Marie-Rose Tessier est née le 21 mai 1910 et s’est éteinte à 115 ans le 10 février 2026 🖤🖤🖤. Elle était la doyenne des Français et la vice-doyenne de l’humanité.

[theunabashedepicurean]

I couldn’t decide which photograph to post so here are two. Barbara "Babe" Cushing Mortimer Paley, photographed by Norman Parkinson and Horst P. Horst. Babe Paley was an American socialite and doyenne of the New York social scene, a staple of the International Best Dressed List and Truman Capote’s most beloved Swan. ____________________________________________ #babepaley #horstphorst #normanparkinson #photography #socialite #fashionicon #bestdressedlist #babe #trumancapote #swan #trumancapoteswans #halloffame #magazineeditor #vogue #fashion #style #doyenne #society #balenciaga #valentino #givenchy #couture #couturefashion #lifestyle #stregis #fifthavenue #newyork #newyorkcity #newyorksociety #highsociety (at New York City) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ca-TOk5o77I/?utm_medium=tumblr

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 1

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs the help of one of Birmingham’s most successful and secretive underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all. 

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2591

______________________________

Thomas Shelby awaited your arrival anxiously in his office. He’d never admit it but he was always slightly anxious when it came to making deals, especially with new partners. With old associates, like Alfie Solomons, Tommy could predict their actions. He knew the likelihood of them double crossing him, how much threatening it would take to get them to comply, and who to threaten to harm if they didn’t. There was too much out of control with new potential business partners. 

You, on the other hand, loved making new business partners. Your “business,” as one could call it, was much more underground than a lot of the other ones like it but that didn’t mean that you were unsuccessful. Quite the contrary. In fact, you were the leading exporter of whiskey to the United States, had control of the fighting rings, and had begun to dabble in money laundering and counterfeiting. Unlike the men, however, you kept your dealings quiet. All these other gangs liked to do things like offer protection or have designated territories that others could get shot for stepping foot in. All of this was unnecessary to you and, typically, you preferred to stay out of it, but when Thomas Shelby requested a meeting, you couldn’t resist. 

At 10:00 am sharp, you found yourself walking into the doors of Shelby Company Limited. You looked around, noting the dark colors on the walls and all of the wooden furniture. You made sure to take note of every door and window that you could see and the position of all the employees around the building. Some might call it paranoia, but you preferred to call it covering your bases. No such thing as being too careful when it came to dealing with gangsters. 

“Can I help you, miss?” A gruff voice asked. You looked up to see a man with the same haircut as all the other men here, buzzed short on the side and long on top, and a large mustache over his top lip. 

“I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.” You explained. 

The man shook his head slightly, “May I ask what for?” The words were polite but his tone was interrogative. 

You weren’t sure who this man was or what he was allowed to know. “I have a meeting with him at ten,” you paused, making a show of checking your pocket watch, trying to indicate that you didn’t have time for this go around, “Or well, now, I suppose.” 

The man looked you up and down before nodding, “Follow me.” You followed him to an office in the back, “You have a meeting at ten? Tommy doesn’t usually do business with representatives. Where is Mr. L/N?” He asked. 

You nodded, “I am L/N. Y/N L/N.” Every time you went in for a meeting with anyone, this happened. They always expected a man. The man’s eyes widened in realization but you saw his expression lighten just slightly. “You are?” 

“Arthur Shelby. Vice President of Shelby Company Limited.” He announced, stopping at a door that clearly read Thomas Shelby, CEO. 

You extended your hand to the man, “Well, thank you Mr. Shelby. It’s nice to meet you.” Arthur’s eyes flickered to your hand for a moment before taking it, shaking it hesitantly. 

He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Tommy. I have L/N here to see you.” 

“Come in.” A rough voice answered from the other side of the door. Arthur opened it and you stepped inside. The office was quite spacious and clean for the most part. 

A rather attractive man that you correctly assumed to be Thomas Shelby sat at the desk facing you, removing his glasses and looking at you with confusion in his piercing blue eyes, “Who are you?” He questioned bluntly. 

Every time. 

“L/N. Y/N L/N. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Shelby.” You took the initiative to introduce yourself.

The confused look melted away, quickly fronted with sudden professionalism. He stood up front behind his desk and readjusted his black jacket just enough to flash the pistol at his side, an action you assumed was a habit of his when meeting new people to intimidate them as if everyone in this line of work wasn’t armed. “Of course, Miss. L/N. My apologies. I was just expecting a-” 

“Man. I know. Most people do. We came to discuss business though. Correct, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, eyebrow raised. Straight to the point, concise. It showed that you meant business and didn’t come to be dismissed due to your gender. 

Thomas nodded, “Ah, yes. Please, have a seat.” He extended his hand, gesturing to the seat across the desk from him. “Thank you, Arthur, we have it from here.” You had forgotten that the other Shelby brother was still in the room. Without glancing back, you heard the door close behind you. 

“So, Miss. L/N, you’re the head of the Hemlock Angels?” Tommy leaned back in his chair, glancing down into his glass of what you knew was whiskey. 

The name always made you cringe inside, never intending for your operation to have an official name. But Tommy didn’t need to know that. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” You answered straightforwardly. 

“You’re a very difficult person to find.” He noted, leaning forward now.

You nodded, “That’s how I prefer to keep it. It’s hard to run these sorts of businesses in the open. I would say I’m sure you would understand but the Peaky Blinders have been running the streets for the last decade or so quite publicly, if I remember correctly.”

“We all had our quiet beginnings. It would just appear to me that perhaps our goals were different.” He sipped his drink, “But back to what I called you for. From what I hear, you export whiskey to America, correct?” 

You crossed your legs, sitting back in your chair, “That is true.” 

Tommy continued, “And I hear you also counterfeit and launder money?” “Yes.” You confirmed. 

His fingers laced together on his desktop. “I need your services. I’ve come into possession of certain… acquisitions that I need transported to America discreetly. I currently have no secure means of transportation.” 

You cocked your head slightly, listening intently to him with a straight face, “And you wish to transport your acquisitions with my alcohol?” 

The man nodded, “Yes. And as for the money, I need $100,000 American dollars counterfeited.” 

At that request, you shook your head, “I don’t do American dollars.” 

“If you can make British money, there must be a way to make American money. They don’t need to be perfect. In fact, I only need them to pass at a glance. I need the police to be able to detect them as counterfeits.” Tommy explained. 

Your eyebrows scrunched, “Why do you need the police to detect them? And wouldn’t that just trace the money back to us?” 

Tommy inhaled audibly, “I’m assuming that you have secure methods of ground transport for your whiskey. I, however, am relying on people I’ve never met personally before. I also happen to have people who’ve double crossed me and think I don’t know about it. I owe the latter group $100,000 American dollars. The plan is to give them the money and call in to the police about it. Have their whole operation busted. While the police are occupied with such a huge bust, we’ll be moving our goods with less of a chance of getting caught.”

“That seems like quite a bit of hassle for something that is only a diversion. Forgive me for saying so but this doesn’t seem like a very foolproof plan, Mr. Shelby. I don’t think I’m willing to risk my assets for this.” You admitted honestly. 

“The counterfeit bills are not only a diversion but the ends to another deal with an old partner. Don’t think of it as a diversion. It’s killing two birds with one stone. And as for the security of this plan and your assets, rest assured that I’m no amateur, Miss. L/N. I am in control of everything. There are no loose ends.” Tommy’s words were spoken with reassurance but his tone also told you that he didn’t appreciate his skills being doubted. 

You leaned forward, “And all of this in exchange for…?” You were curious as to what he’d offer. How would he know what you wanted or what your company needed? 

Tommy tapped his hand on the desk, “I figure you name your price. We can negotiate from there.” 

Well this was new. Usually people came in with their offer already prepared. You thought for a moment. What did you need? “Protection.” 

“I can offer men to keep you safe.” 

You shook your head with a chuckle and side smile, “You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I’m a big girl. I can keep myself safe. I need legal protection. From what I understand, you have an in with Winston Churchill. I have some exports that were seized by cops on the way to the drop off site. The number of whiskey bottles lost is not the concern but the men who were transporting them were good men. They have children and wives. We have a protocol in place just in case anything was ever seized. A specific story they've been instructed to tell to keep the company safe and keep them in as little trouble as possible. Considering our distillery hasn't been raided yet, I'm assuming they did as instructed. I need them released."

Tommy drew a sharp breath between his teeth and shook his head slightly, "I did have an in with Churchill but he's already done favors for me. I can't ask him for another." 

Grabbing your bag, you shifted to begin to stand, "Well thank you for your time Mr. Shelby but that's all that I'm in need of at this time. Unfortunately, it seems like this deal won't work out after all." 

"Wait, wait," Tommy put a hand up and you returned to your seat, "Now, look. I have no more pull now with Churchill but I have come into some incriminating on the Chief of Police. Career ruining information. If you provide me with $100,000 American dollars and use of your transportation, we will blackmail the chief into releasing your men.” 

A small smile cracked on your lips and you nodded in agreement, your fingers crossed in your lap. But there was still something that had been concerning you since you heard that the infamous Thomas Shelby even wanted to speak with you. “One last issue I wanted to discuss with you, though, prior to finalizing this deal-” 

“Is…?” He interrupted. 

“Is that many people I know that’ve worked with you have warned me that you’re not to be trusted. I’ve heard stories of you double crossing partners, coming up short on your end, and sometimes not upholding your end at all. ‘Sudden changes to the agreement’, you called it I believe? I’ve been told that you force people to cooperate by threatening to kill them, even if they held up their end of the bargain.” You cocked an eyebrow, allowing him time to figure out exactly what you were insinuating. 

You leaned forward, elbows now on his desk resting eye level with him. His face was emotionless but his eyes showed that he was deep in thought, trying to figure out what to say. But rather than let him, you continued, “Mr. Shelby, I do not do business with liars and crooks. The way it sounds like you make deals, it’s a miracle you even have people still willing to do business with you. I am willing to give this a chance but I am telling you this now. You will not fuck me over. I don’t care who you are or what you do. Because your past dealings have left you with a less than stellar reputation as a business partner, this is how things are gonna go: you’re going to get my men released. Then and only then will I hand over the money and accept whatever cargo it is that you’re shipping.” 

Even when you were done, you didn’t lean back. You stayed put, eyes locked with his, not backing down. Your face was serious, eyebrows raised slightly, daring him to protest. The air hung thick between the two of you in the brief moments of silence where you found yourselves locked in each other’s eyes. It was like when you stared at a buck through the sights of a rifle, reveling in the beauty of the creature but also ready to pull the trigger. He leaned across the table, pointing a finger at you and speaking sternly but low, “Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my office and telling me how things are gonna go?” 

“I’m the person who has everything you need when you’re simply doing me a convenience. Y’see, I don’t need you. In time, I will get my men released without you. You’re simply expediting the process. I, on the other hand, am the best in the country in everything you need done.” Judging by the fire behind his eyes, he wasn’t used to being talked to like this, especially by a woman. You could see the cogs working in his head, trying to formulate an appropriate response to this. Usually, with the men, it was all violence and threats. But even Tommy knew that women typically took a different approach. Or maybe he could benefit from it. 

“I don’t need you. I need your resources. If I wanted to, I could have you killed and your assets seized. Whatever press you print your counterfeits on would be in my possession and I’m sure your employees wouldn’t mind telling me how you transport your whiskey to America given the right encouragement.” His threat rambled on but you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Ah, Mr. Shelby, you’re already off to a bad start with all these threats! See, you do need me. You don’t know where my distillery is or where we print bills or where we ship things from. You didn’t even know I was a woman. You know nothing and it scares you. Your insecurity shows through in the form of unnecessary violence. I’m not intimidated, though. And quite frankly, I’m tired of all of this back and forth. I simply needed to express to you that you will be upholding your end of the bargain without any threats and/or manipulation. I am, however, still willing to go through with all of this if you’re willing to meet my requirements.” 

Tommy though for a moment. Was he able to pull this off? Sure, he did actually have dirt on the chief of police, and most men in power always caved in when their job was on the line, but how soon could he pull this off? It didn’t matter. These were logistics he’d figure out later. 

Confidently, he nodded, “Alright, Miss. L/N. $50,000 American dollars up front before the men are released, the other $50,000 after. Final offer. Consider it a show of good faith on your end as well.” 

Internally, you snickered at him for treating counterfeit bills as if they were the real deal, but you shook his hand nonetheless, figuring if it made him seal the deal, it was worth it. “It sounds like we have a deal then, Mr. Shelby.” 

[frederiksaccount]

[winttered]

doчeon — wekı mekı

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

La doyenne des Français et des Européens, sœur André, a réussi à vaincre le Covid-19 qu’elle a contracté il y a quelques semaines. Agée de 117 ans, aujourd'hui 11 février 2021 celle qui est née Lucile Randon habite dans une maison de retraite à Toulon (Var) à l'Ehpad Sainte-Catherine Labouré

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 7 (Final Chapter)

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: Murder, Illegal stuff (Is this even a warning for this show? Everything’s illegal) 

Word Count: 5867

A/N: Ahh! The last chapter!!! As I go back and re-read the last few chapters, I’m nervous Tommy has been a little OOC (I hadn’t watched the show in a few weeks). But oh well! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy the finale! 

A/N 2: Also, all the monetary references have been adjusted for inflation. I think I forgot to mention it before. But, yeah. So 400 pounds was worth much more than 400 pounds now. 

___________________________________

Fuck Thomas Shelby. 

Fuck him and the way he treated everyone around him as if they were beneath him. Fuck him and the way he acted like people were expendable. Fuck him and the way he viewed everyone as pawns in his own overlord game of chess. Fuck him and the way he just blatantly called you out. Fuck him and the way he made you crave him.

Your encounter with him had been fulfilling in ways you hadn’t expected but it had also infuriated you, bringing back memories you’d struggled to suppress for the last two years. Memories brought out emotion and emotion was vulnerability and you had no room for that. But since Tommy had planted the seeds of memory in your mind, all you could do was feel the hidden rage and heartache you’d been concealing since Mason had screwed you over. 

Mason had been your lover years ago as the Hemlock Angels grew. He was a poor boy desperate for money and you were a poor entrepreneur desperate for people willing to do illegal work. A romance very quickly blossomed and he was the first and only man you could say you ever truly loved. You’re whole heart and soul was invested in him. 

He was tall and handsome with auburn hair that was slicked back on top but shook loose when he’d get into something he was doing - whether it was working hard loading crates, beating someone up who tried to cross you guys, or making love to you. He had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that gave his otherwise chiseled and angular face a soft touch. Toned muscles rippled across his perfect body and- 

Even today, after all this time, after all he’d done, you still felt love for him and you hated yourself for it. Once the Hemlock Angels took off as a whiskey exporter (though still a young and admittedly sloppy version of your current business in retrospect), he’d been caught at the docks with the cargo. He and the crates were seized by police and, with the promise of a very handsome monetary reward and legal immunity, he’d given the police the address of your distillery. Thankfully, you weren’t there when it had been raided but you lost everything you’d worked for because of him. ₤400 was worth your love and life’s work apparently. He took the money and ran off to Switzerland to avoid being drafted and lived off his money, leaving you to rebuild your empire. 

The betrayal had destroyed you, left you a complete shell of a person, incapable of trusting others, especially men. But it had allowed you to grow the Hemlock Angels. To avoid the pain, you threw yourself into rebuilding the distillery and developing more foolproof protocols for business operation. Never again would you make the mistake of allowing someone to double-cross you. It was why you conducted your business quietly, even quieter than, say, Alfie Solomons, who was also fairly underground as these sorts of businesses were concerned. 

Thomas Shelby made you feel things that Mason had made you feel and it terrified you to no end. The impending doom of repeated history loomed over you heavily, suffocating you and ripping your ability to breathe away. But it was a mistake that you kept feeling yourself drawn to making. 

Friday night had come around quickly and you found yourself awaiting Tommy in your main office yet again. The last thing that you wanted was to see him in this room, the ghost of his touch coming to haunt your skin. But no. This needed to happen here because meeting him on his turf gave him the upper hand. And now that Jameson and Brandon, the only thing you’d asked for in return for your work, had been killed, this was feeling more and more like a free favor. You refused to stake anything more than you already had on a free favor. 

“Y/N, Thomas Shelby is here for you.” Rita announced, peeking her head through the crack in the office door. You stiffened up, trying to play it off as just sitting up straighter but your prodege must have seen straight through you because she gave you a knowing glare. 

“See him in. Thank you.” Straight-forward, professional, and impersonal. That was going to be your new tactic. No more of the games you’d attempted to play with him, the same games that you were usually able to play successfully with everyone else. No more hot and cold, nice then firm. Tommy was able to worm his way through the small cracks of your professional wall to see the parts of even yourself that you tried to hide and that vulnerability stopped here. 

“Mr. Shelby,” You nodded in acknowledgement when he entered your office and you gestured to the chair across from you. Tommy’s eyes flashed with a hint of confusion. The entire energy of this interaction felt off already but nonetheless, he followed your gesture and sat down. 

You reached down and grabbed a leather bag from beneath your desk, dropping it on the table. Reaching up, you clicked the little locks on top open and pulled the material appart, revealing thousands of American bills, “Here is the final installment of the money. All the same as the first.” 

Tommy peeked into the bag, just to ensure that the money was in fact there. He lifted out a stack and flipped through them. They all appeared to be identical both to each other and to the last bag and if he hadn't known any better, he would think they were all legitimate notes. 

You leaned back and watched as he inspected the money, sure that he’d be satisfied with the work, before continuing, “There is a shipment going out to America tomorrow night. I need to know what it is that you’re shipping so I can be sure to leave enough room onboard.” 

The man shook his head, “I can’t tell you what it is that we’re shipping.”

“Then I can’t help you anymore.” You stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “I need to know what I’m sticking my neck out for.” 

“Like I stuck my neck out for you?” 

“Yes.” Your eyes locked with his, refusing to back down or allow him to guilt trip you. 

Tommy sighed, “It’s snow.” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise, “Didn’t have you pegged for a drug lord.” You actually were almost impressed. The man had range. 

“Just dabbling as you would put it,” he responded vaguely. 

So cocaine… It wasn’t the worst of the possibilities that you’d imagined. Ideas of dismembered body disposal or massive amounts of firearms or a million other worse things had occurred to you as possibilities. Of course, it depended on how much as well. “What’re the dimensions of the shipment?” 

“Half a cubic meter.” 

“Half a cubic fucking meter?!” You exclaimed, nearly choking on air, “How the hell did you come into that much blow?” 

Tommy put his hand up, “Now that I can’t tell you.” 

You nodded, “Alright, alright. I can respect that. A half cubic meter is an easy accommodation. Now, for the game plan…” 

Shipment days were anxiety producing enough as it was when you weren’t shipping thousands of pounds worth of cocaine along with it but tonight, your heart felt like it was in your throat. “Billy said the crates are all loaded at the distillery.” Rita announced to you, holding one ear to the receiving end of the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand. You finished loading your gun at the kitchen table inside of your shared house, slipping each bullet one by one into their slots with experienced skill.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet him at the factory in forty-five minutes.” With a final spin of the chamber - a ritual you’d developed after telling yourself (with no real evidence) that it was good luck years ago - you clicked the metal pieces together and slid it into the holster at your side. 

“Forty five minutes? It’s only twenty minutes outside of town.” Rita questioned once she’d hung up the phone after relaying the information. 

You loaded Rita’s gun for her while you spoke and slid it across the table to her, “We are picking up Thomas and his brother Arthur to take them to the factory to load up their cargo.” 

She caught the gun and looked at you with wide cautious eyes, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Taking the Shelbys to the factory?” 

You sighed a knowing breath, “Yeah, I know. But he insisted that he remain in possession of the goods for as long as possible.” 

Rita’s face scrunched, “He knows he’s gonna have to relinquish possession at some point, right? What is he even shipping?” She slipped the gun into the pocket of her skirt. 

“Snow.” You confided with an impressed chuckle. 

She nearly snorted, “Really? Didn’t have him pegged for a drug lord.” 

A shocked laugh left your lips, “That’s what I said!”

Ten minutes later, you pulled up to the shipping yard that Tommy had said he’d be at with the cocaine and sure enough, there he was standing beside Arthur, both with cigarettes between their lips as they waited. In the shine of your headlights, you saw them both look over at you and move to pick up a wooden crate that was on the ground alongside an old military canvas bag. “Good evening, Y/N.” Tommy greeted politely once your tires came to a halt on the crunching gravel. 

“Good evening. This is it?” You confirmed once you got out of the car, pointing at the crate and bag full of money on the ground. 

He nodded, “Yes, this is it.” 

“Alright, we’ll just load those in the back seat for now,” You pointed back over your shoulder towards the black automobile behind you, “You must be Arthur. It’s nice to officially meet you. This is my right hand lady, Rita.” You introduced, first shaking his hand and then moving so Rita could as well. 

“Pleasure.” Arthur nodded to you both. 

“Well, should we get going?” 

Right on time, you arrived at the old factory you were meeting Billy, the man in charge of transport at the distillery, at. The factory was inconveniently located, even in its prime, set twenty minutes out of town, and had been abandoned since at least the 1880’s following a massive fire that had totally destroyed the structure and killed dozens of working men. The ghost stories surrounding it had kept it from ever being rebuilt and it had been abandoned for nearly half a century since, which now made it the perfect place for you to conduct business. 

“What the hell are we doin’ all the way out here?” Arthur asked when the car pulled up to the building. There had been nothing for miles and even now there was just your car and a large truck. 

After turning off the engine, you got out, the other three people in the car following, “I know it doesn’t look like… well… anything really. But trust me, this has worked well for us over the years.” 

“There’s no ports, no railroad stop. We had to take a dirt road to get here. How do you even move goods from this point?” Arthur questioned, skeptically. You could almost feel him reaching for his gun, convinced they were being ambushed or something and maybe, if you hadn’t been so eager to get this deal over with so you could stop whatever the hell was going on with Tommy, you would have dragged this out and messed with them a little bit. 

You pointed to the opposite side of the large factory - or what was left of it at least, “You can’t see it from here at night but there’s an old railroad track just on the other side of that wall. The train only comes through once every two weeks or so but thankfully it’s usually the same conductor. A few pounds buys us an unscheduled stop on his trips down to Gloucester where they load everything up onto a cargo ship and haul it off to America.” 

You were proud of your little system you’d developed. It had allowed you to grow into an international exporter and was the main source of your success. Tommy had seemed impressed last night when you developed the plan and explained everything to him then and now Arthur seemed to match his affections. 

The loud closing of a door drew all of your attention to the large truck. Billy, a stout, acne scarred man in his late forties, walked towards your group from the driver’s side of the truck. “Y/N! Will said the train is runnin’ a little late but should be ‘ere by 10:30.” He informed you in his thick Irish accent once he made it to you guys. A few other of your men jumped out of the passenger side but hung around the truck instead of approaching. 

Rita flipped out her pocket watch and checked the time, “We got about fifteen minutes then.” 

The next fifteen minutes were passed with pleasantries and conversation. Arthur never quite let his guard down and seemed on edge but had relaxed significantly. Honestly, you had as well. Something about tonight felt different than usual. There wasn’t the constant paranoia that the Shelbys were out to double cross you tonight you. Perhaps it was a mistake but, for once, you felt almost comfortable in his presence. 

The train came by right at 10:30, it’s crawling pace coming to a screeching halt with a loud hiss of steam. Billy went up to one of the old metal train cars and undid the locks. The door was slid open to reveal an empty space. “Alrighty, we’ll just move the boxes from the truck to here and then we’ll be on our way.” 

The other men who chose to stay by the truck had already lifted the canvas cover off the top and were carrying huge crates one by one, full with copious bottles of your illegal whiskey, to fill the train car. You stood off to the side with Rita, Thomas, and Arthur while your men worked, waiting patiently as they unloaded the truck. 

“Alright, Mr. Shelby. We have the space for your cargo now.” Billy invited, hands outstretched to take what Tommy had to ship. You noticed a nervous glance from the crate to Billy’s hands from Arthur. 

Tommy at least pretended that he trusted Billy, “Y/N told me that you travel with the shipment all the way to America,” He took out a picture from his pocket, “This is the man that will be awaiting your arrival there. Pass the goods off to him and only him, understand?” 

Billy nodded, inspecting the picture of the man before folding it into his coat, “Yes, sir.” 

Finally, Arthur relinquished possession of the cocaine to your man and he set it carefully on one of your boxes. After packing the duffel bag full of money, Billy hopped inside and the door was slid shut. 

The other men took the truck back to the distillery and you turned to Tommy, “I’ll call you when I get the call that it’s arrived in America. It usually takes between seven to ten days, depending on the weather.” 

 “Thank you. Perhaps, we could get a drink to celebrate.” He suggested as if you hadn’t had sex out of spite the other night. 

“What is there to celebrate?” You avoided the invitation. 

He gestured around, “A successful business transaction?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I feel like you’d use anything as an excuse to drink. I have a hunch whiskey flows through your veins in place of blood.” 

He shrugged, “Nobody needs an excuse to drink.” 

“Fair point.” Internally, you smacked yourself but you ended up nodding a reluctant agreement, “Alright, one drink.” 

Tommy gave you a satisfied look that could have almost resembled a smile, “But this time I want to show you one of my establishments.” 

Thankfully, Tommy had agreed to your suggestion of Arthur and Rita joining the pair of you as well, using them as a buffer to ensure no other mistakes were made with the man who seemed to be your kryptonite. You’d taken everyone to the Garrison, a pub that you’d known to be under the control of the Peaky Blinders for the last several years, right after all the work at the factory had been finished. 

Tommy held the door for you as you passed through, Arthur taking over to hold it for Rita. Wordlessly, Tommy held up four fingers before ushering you away to a small booth in the back, along with his brother and Rita. All four of you slid along the cushion seats, making small talk yet again. Thankfully, now, after having been around each other for the last few hours, it was much less awkward and everyone was open to more conversation than initially. 

Arthur excused himself after a moment and when a poker game opened up between some of the other Blinders, Rita, an secret card shark, disappeared to swindle some poor, unsuspecting men of a few pounds. You and Tommy found yourselves alone, exactly what you’d hoped to avoid. 

“Sure she should be playing?” Tommy pointed over to Rita was his mostly empty glass of whiskey. You followed his gaze to see her with a disappointed look, one of the guys sliding his hand to take what you assumed were her chips. 

You snorted, “Oh, I’m sure. It’s your boys that should be looked after. Give ‘em a few more rounds. She’ll be leaving with most of their money.” 

Tommy almost smiled and nodded, “Aye,” He paused before beginning again, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. You helped us out with a lot and you didn’t exactly get your end of the bargain.” 

You inhaled deeply and looked away from him, bringing back up that professional front that you’d felt slowly slipping away throughout the night, “It happens sometimes I suppose. I thought about asking for more but a deal’s a deal and unlike some others, I don’t like to change my conditions once they’ve been agreed upon.” 

“And what is it that you would have asked for had you been one to change deals?” He leaned forward, listening intently to your next words. 

“Is Thomas Shelby feeling guilty for taking more than he gave?” You asked in shock, “I wouldn’t even do that.” Your tone quickly became jestful. “No, I’m only joking. You did end up coming to the rescue the other day which is more than others would have done.” 

Instead of seeming satisfied with your answer, though, he only raised his eyebrows and repeated the question, “What would you ask for?” 

Something told you that he was offering you new circumstances, an extra favor. Who did that? In this line of work, who knew what kind of horrible request would be made? 

What did you want? It was a good question. But did you have to answer honestly? Because an honest answer might jeopardize your life’s work and maybe even your life itself with some people. Tommy hadn’t double crossed you thus far though… 

After a long pause, you licked your lips, “A deal.” 

“Another deal?” He questioned curiously. 

You nodded, a small smirk on your face, “Yes. A deal between the Peaky Blinders and the Hemlock Angels. Business partners and an agreement to aid each other when needed. Neither of us offer the same services or sell the same goods, with the exception of the Garrison and my little establishment, so there’s no need to worry about losing business.” 

Tommy cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t trust me. A double crosser, I believe you called me when we first met?”

“I said that’s what other people had called you.” You defended, remembering your first interaction well. “But I must be honest, I had a hunch they were correct.” 

“Then why trust me now?” 

“I don’t,” You answered short and honest, “But I want to despite everything telling me not to. I figure this way, I can keep an eye on you.” You threatened in a joking tone, although you really weren’t joking all that much. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Or, more fittingly for your scenario, keep your friends close and your acquaintance/ occasional hook up/ business partner who might backstab you closer. 

It took only a few moments for Tommy to weigh out the decision before nodding, “Alright, a deal then.” 

You raised your glass to him and he mirrored the action, a slight ting as your glasses tapped against each other in a celebration of a new alliance. The next twenty minutes or so was full of small talk, something that Tommy never found himself doing with anyone, so why was it so easy with you? Every now and then, there’s be grumbles of anger from the table playing poker as new opponents who insisted they could beat Rita lost a larger and larger fortune with each round. 

A quiet ding as the door opened made you twist your neck, curiously checking to see who came in. Then your heart stopped. “Fuck-” Your heart was caught in your throat and you wanted to vomit. 

Mason. 

He looked almost identical to how he did two years ago, just with a few more age lines. Time had been less kind to him than it had to you. He entered the room with a large casual air, surely unknowing of your presence. 

Tommy noticed your sudden panic when you uncharacteristically sunk into the the booth, hiding your face from the red-headed man who had entered the pub, “So that’s the man, eh?” 

You covered your face which had turned a shade somewhere between pink with embarrassment and red from rage. But nevertheless, you nodded, still side eyeing Mason from between your fingers as he ordered a glass of gin. 

“Gin?” Tommy noticed judgmentally, “Drinks like a woman.” 

Normally, under any other circumstances, you would have made some snarky comment about using your gender as an insult but you appreciated the effort to insult this man he’d never met, simply because he’d wronged you. “So what happened?” He inquired. 

You sighed, finally sitting up straight, just keeping your eyes on the table, “My ex. We were practically on the verge of marriage. He helped me start up the Hemlock Angles before he sold us out to the cops for a few hundred pounds. Ruined us for months.” 

Tommy listened to the story intently, watching the man out of the corner of his eye and quickly noticing that he seemed to have noticed your presence. At first, he glanced over nervously towards you before deciding to approach, a decision that Tommy had a hunch was the wrong one. 

“Four o’clock.” Tommy mumbled over the rim of his glass. Your eyes immediately shot to four o’clock to see Mason walking over, all too confident for your liking, a confidence you had every intention of destroying. 

“Y/-” He began, only getting half way through your name before you interrupted. 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face ‘round here.” You hissed, venom dripping from every word.

Mason put his hands up in defense. Those same hands that used to be calloused from work and you’d seen covered in blood looked as if they hadn’t so much as lifted a piece of wood in months. “I didn’t come looking for a fight. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you dead where you stand right now you pathetic sack of shit.” Tommy sat back and watched as you destroyed this man with your words and he could only imagine the other stories about him you had. Your viper tongue had him on edge in the best possible ways. 

“I-” 

“No. You’re nothing.” You interrupted. 

He sighed, “I wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did! I miss us. I miss you.” He reached down, trying to take your hand, but you snatched it away. He looked down and eyed Tommy for half a second, trying to determine whether your relationship was romantic or platonic. 

You laughed a sadistic laugh, “You’re not sorry and you don’t miss me. You ran out of money didn’t you? Well I hate to tell you but you disappearing was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. I run Birmingham now and it’s all thanks to you. Now get the fuck out of my city.” 

Then for a second, there was a brief flash of danger in his eyes, that same danger that you’d fallen in love with. But this time, that anger was directed at you. His fist slammed down hard on the table in front of you, just barely missing your face, but you didn’t even flinch, “Listen here,-” 

“She said fuck off, mate.” Tommy interjected finally. Both of you looked over at him and you could’ve sworn you almost forgot he was here. 

Mason snorted, “‘N who the hell are you?” 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you respect her wishes and kindly fuck off.” Tommy’s voice was calm, much calmer than yours, but still holding a very sincere threat. 

Mason looked between the two of you and chuckled as if he’d been the one who was wronged in all of this before turning away, like he was trying to laugh it off nonchalantly. All of a sudden, he drew his arm back and began to swing his down onto Tommy. Before the blow could connect, you had your pistol out in a second and pulled the trigger. 

The loud bang drew several startled yells from around the bar and everything got quiet as they looked at your booth to see Mason’s body crumble face first on top of the table, lifeless. When the realization of what you’d done hit you, your mouth fell open in shock. “Holy shit…” You whispered to yourself. 

Tommy had jumped when the gunshot went off but now looked just as surprised as you did to see Mason lying dead across the table between you, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.” He really didn’t. Sure, he’d seen you shoot Sabini’s men but the way you looked at and talked about Mason, he assumed it was one of those loves you’d never be able to harm no matter the damage they’d caused to you. But, boy, was he blissfully surprised. 

All the Blinders in the building, including two of the Shelby brothers, Finn and Arthur, jumped up, guns pointed and ready to take down the attacker. Tommy held up his hand, “It’s alright, boys! Hold your fire!” 

You stood up to avoid the blood that was now dripping off the table and onto where you sat, “‘m sorry.” You apologized for the mess but Tommy shook his head. 

“Don’t be. He looked like he had it comin’.” With a wave of his hand, a few Blinders that you didn’t know the names of stood up from their seats around the poker table and walked up, lifting the body off the table. You weren’t quite sure what to do or say. You’d actually shot him. You killed Mason. He wasn’t the first person you’d killed but that didn’t mean that you enjoyed doing it. Unless it was in a moment of grave danger, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as they crumpled into a bloody heap never ceased to make you momentarily sick, thoughts of the family you may have ripped apart destroying you. 

But you knew Mason didn’t have any family. The only person you’d hurt was him. You’d freed yourself. 

You looked up at him as he now stood beside you and saw that he was gazing down at the body and then glanced over to you, nothing but pure impressed admiration on his face.  

Tommy liked that you were able to take care of yourself and that you spoke honestly. It made him feel like perhaps this deal that you two had struck up would prove to be beneficial and trust based and that, just maybe, if things went well, perhaps the two of you could build your own empire together. 

Tommy had always been rather daft (or perhaps was that he just didn’t care) when it came to other people’s emotions and he was well aware of this flaw. But now, it was like he could see every inch of confliction on your face. “You alright?” He asked when he’d noticed your eyes hadn’t left the body, even when the men’s forms had covered it. 

His voice shook you out of your daze and you blinked yourself into clarity, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” You turned away from the table to face the open room of the bar. Rita stood at the table, her chair tipped over on the ground behind her. She looked from you to Mason’s body that was being carried out back and back to you with a look of shock plastered on her face. The only other person who knew as much as you did about that situation was her. 

You walked up to the bar and threw a few coins on the bar, “I don’t care what it is, just make it strong.” 

“You don’t have to pay.” Tommy insisted but you ignored him, leaving the coins on the bar and taking the mystery drink that had been poured. Walking out the front door, Tommy trailed close behind.  

Finally, you parked yourself against the outer wall of the Garrison and downed the whole glass in one go, the fiery liquid burning a trail down your throat. Whatever the drink was, you had no idea. You set the glass down on the ground and lit a cigarette to replace the glass rim. 

Nobody spoke for a moment, until a small group of cops came running by. You tried your hardest to look innocent as they stopped and eye Tommy knowingly. “Tommy-” One of them started in a thick cockney accent. 

Tommy shook his head and pointed down the road, “Wasn’t us this time. Came from down the street.” 

It was clear from the looks on all three of the cops' faces that none of them believed a word that came out of his mouth but they weren’t about to cross Thomas Shelby. “There was a bit of a commotion from up there earlier before the shot.” You tried to reinforce the lie as smoothly and believably as possible. 

The cop looked a little more convinced when you agreed with Tommy and nodded before the trio ran off down the road looking for another gunman. This exact situation was why you didn’t get involved with the cops because they’re not going to believe you when you need to lie about something like this. 

As time passed, you became more calm, “I really am sorry about this, Tommy.” 

“I’ve never had a woman shoot someone ‘cause I was ‘bout to be punched. It was quite attractive, I can’t lie.” Tommy lit a cigarette as well, standing beside you, almost blocking the activity of the street in what seemed like an attempt to protect you.

A smile cracked on your face when you chuckled a little, the constant matter-of-factness of his tone making almost everything he said sound like business, even when he was complimenting you, “Well, like you said, it had been a long time coming.” 

You felt like you were being dramatic. Wasn’t killing just part of this gig afterall? “Y’know, I swear I can usually shoot someone without breaking down.” You tried to defend yourself with a weak laugh. 

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not always easy, I know. My hands get the shakes at night. Just because it’s part of the deal doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You know, I haven’t felt the way I feel around you in a long time.” 

His confession was simple and, while a small part of you wanted to smack him for his terrible timing, a larger part of you felt the same way. “Neither have I. I’m used to being airtight but you make me weak… and I hate it.” You looked away from him, avoiding his deep, knowing eyes. 

“Whoever said that this had to be weakness?” He inquired, a hand running along your arm. 

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “And you don’t believe that romance is weakness?” It wasn’t until the words left your mouth that you remembered he’d lost Grace and a pang of guilt struck your chest for bringing up the memory. But you also weren’t about to revoke the question. It just further illustrated your fear.

Tommy looked at the ground a for moment, remembering what it was like to hold the love of his life in his arms as she died, knowing it was fault, and thinking about how it felt to relive that pain every time he looked at a portrait of her or his own son. 

Finally, he nodded, “We’ve both lost people we loved but we also still have people we care about, whether they’re family or friends. A lesson that’s been very difficult for me to learn over the last decade or so is that it is impossible to completely rid yourself of all weaknesses.” 

Again, an almost humorous comment coming from Thomas Shelby, who everyone had known to be as secure and weakness-free as you were. You thought about his words, though, and tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea - that an alliance and romance with Thomas Shelby was only sure to blow up eventually. 

“So?” He urged, his voice low and gravelly, after a few moments of silence. 

Silently, you found yourself trailing your eyes from his chest that was straight ahead up to his lips and then to his eyes. You took just a step closer, closing the already thin gap between the two of you and placed your hand around his neck, slowly coming to lean up on your toes. The movement was slow, giving him more than enough time to protest or pull away from you but he didn’t. 

Tommy’s hand lightly landed itself on your hip and he leaned down, meeting your lips in the middle. Unlike the last time your lips had met, this was soft and gentle, a side of Tommy that you had no idea even existed anymore. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while before finally parting your lips. Your faces still rested just beside each other’s, bodies close enough to feel the other’s warmth through the cool night. Your eyes slid open finally to see Tommy already looking down at you, waiting to see if this was a kiss of new beginnings or of closure. 

“Don’t make me regret risking everything for you.”

_________

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Doyenne ~ Part 6

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: SMUT (kinda Dom!Tommy but not really?, unprotected sex), mentions of death and violence

Word Count: 3081

_____________________________

“We are at war," You announced to the room full of Angels, all of whom had gathered at a moment's notice. An uneasy murmur rippled over the crowd of men and women alike, all eyes on you for further explanation. This was when you hated being a leader of a group like this. It reminded you that you were part of a criminal organization, no matter how much you denied that reality to yourself. But when people are kidnapped and murdered and you can’t do anything legally about it, it reminds you that this is something that needs to be taken care of yourself. But you had to be strong, be the leader. 

"Yesterday morning, Darby Sabini, the night club owner, and his men were responsible for the kidnapping of myself, Jameson Smith, and Brandon Kipper directly following their release from prison. While I was able to get out, Jameson and Brandon were brutally murdered, tied and shot in the back of the head.”

You inhaled a shaky, betraying breath, fingers gripping the bar behind you tightly as the vivid memories of their bodies clouded your thoughts, “You all know that I value transparency with all of you. So to tell you honestly, we unknowingly came into possession of some information pertaining to Sabini’s business. We had no idea that he had anything to do with anything but nonetheless they saw a threat and they acted on it. As a result, Jameson and Brandon are dead. I know this is a hard hit for us. They were well loved but unfortunately this is a horrible reality of this job. Nonetheless, what happened to them was unacceptable and will not be tolerated. We will be retaliating against Sabini. I’ll be assigning a task force to burn his most successful club, located in London, to the ground. It will be a loss of hundreds of thousands of pounds. He has no idea that we exist as a group and hopefully, it will stay that way. This will be a lowkey, covert operation and those who take part will be compensated handsomely for it. We won’t kill him but we will destroy him.” 

Finally, you found the strength to begin looking people in the eye, now that everyone had accepted the loss and was intent on hearing your plan. That is, until you locked eyes with a familiar pair of icy blue orbs that were not supposed to be there. Thomas Shelby stood in the back, leaning against the carved rock wall patiently while you spoke.  The only indication to him that you even knew of his presence was the slightest hitch in your breath at the contact to which he returned with a barely detectable nod of acknowledgement. What the hell is he doing here? "l will be selecting those I’d like to participate and informing you individually. Thank you all for coming." 

After a nod of permission from you, the crowd dispersed and you retreated to your office in the back and pulled out a drawer from your desk, flipping through the files. Each person who worked for you had a file. Name, address, description, family memories, criminal records, and any other note you had written down (and most of them had many). You prided yourself on how well you knew everyone, whether or not they were aware of it. 

But you were looking for two things in particular. First off, Jameson and Brandon’s files. You needed their addresses to inform their widows themselves of the tragedy that had unfolded. Just the thought of it made your heart wrench and when you finally found their files, you couldn’t bring yourself to open them yet. Instead, you dove into your next search- 

“That was a riveting speech.” Thomas stood in the opened door to your office. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, looking up from the papers sprawled across your desk. 

He slowly strutted into the room, closing the door behind him, “I came to check on you. Make sure you were alright.” It took all your power to keep a steady face. Now that you’d had a day away from him to clear your thoughts, you were no longer clouded by lust or whatever it was that was affecting your judgement the other night with him. 

“Well thank you very much, Mr. Shelby, but I’m quite alright. And while we’re at it, I’d like to thank you for coming to the rescue the other night but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” You tried to sound professional but there was a little more venom behind your words than you’d intended. 

He lifted his hands ever so slightly in defense, “I never said you weren’t. But I was also able to walk right past all your men on the way in here.” 

You slammed your hand on the table and stood up, “Who the hell do you think you are? A week ago you were threatening me, couldn’t stand me. A few days ago, you’re breaking me out of Sabini’s and insisting that I stay the night with you. And now, you’ve crashed a meeting to come and make sure I’m okay. Do you know who I am? Do you know what I do? I am no incompetent little girl, Thomas. I’m a fucking boss, the head of a God damn underground empire. I may not flex my power to the world like you men who feel the need to overcompensate for what you lack in your pants with public brute force but believe me when I say that I have every power to destroy Sabini or anyone else that gets in my way if I so choose.” 

The threat was clear in your words that ‘anyone else’ meant Thomas and he picked up on that very clearly but he had never been one to let anyone talk to him like that and he was not about to start with you. "Look," he pointed a finger at you, his voice low and angry, "I came to help you as a fucking favor but dont worry, it won't happen again, your highness." 

Your blood boiled although you knew logically you'd snapped first but who was he to act like this?! "Did you actually need something,  Mr. Shelby, or did you just come to prove some point?" You sat back down and picked up a random file, not actually reading it but just trying to look like you were too busy for this stupid interraction with him. Images of all the ways you could make him disappear ran through your mind. Showing him your little business could have been a mistake, especially if he'd abuse it by sneaking into your private meetings,  but it was one that would be easily remedied by an untimely, unplanned (for all legal purposes) tragedy. 

Tommy took several steps towards you, until his finger tips grazed the top on your desk and thighs were flush against the wood. He looked down on you, a slight sneer that felt like he was looking down on you, something that he hadn't done since your first meeting. "You're not nearly as in control as you think you are," he told you, "Maybe in control of the situation, yes, but not of yourself. This tough, calm, cool, in control front you put up is nothing more than a facade and I call your bluff." 

 You watched with your voice stuck in your throat as he came around your desk and leaned down to grip the arm rests of your chair, pinning you in and leaning down almost to the point where your noses touched, "The only question is," Tommy continued, his eyebrow flickering upwards, "why are you falling apart?" 

From this close, his scent- whiskey, cigarette smoke, and some unnamable (most likely expensive) cologne - was engulfing you, overwhelming your senses and making you unable to formulate a coherent sentence so you chose to not speak for a moment in favor of returning his cocky scrutinizing gaze with ocular daggers. 

And then a sudden primal version of you seemed to escape the chained prison within your heart, the prison in which you stored away your vulnerability, and you leaned forward, nearly closing the gap between the two of you. "Are we gonna fuck or are you gonna just keep playing games?" 

The words would have shocked you if you weren't in such a state of emotional overload after the events of the last few days but you were and the filthy words left your lips without an ounce of hesitation. 

Internally, Tommy was taken aback by your sudden exclamation but he was also smirking inside like a cocky teenager. He honestly wasn't sure what he was hoping for coming in here and the uncertainty of his own emotions made him angry and uncomfortable but all he knew is that some invisible force- call it whatever you will, the universe, fate, God- pulled him to see you at that exact time and place. The meeting and speech had come as a surprise to him but he found it surprisingly easy to slip in relatively unnoticed, blending in with the background. That had further complicated his lack of plan, lack of goal. But now you were here, pinned under his arms with an angry glare and almost threatening him to fuck you. Tommy would be lying if he said he hadn't secretly hoped some version of this scenario would come to fruition. 

Without another word, barely with a beat after your words, Tommy reached down with his large hands and cupped your face, pulling your face to his and smashing your lips together. The force of this kiss was powerful and ignited your entire body. You pushed yourself up off the chair, gripping his biceps as leverage to stand from the awkward angle but your fingers soon ran across the close shaved hair of his head, disappointed that there wasn't much to pull on but reveling in the softness of his short hair that contrasted the rest of his often surly personality. 

One hand found a home on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into your lips, while the other gripped his black jacket tightly. His lips were slightly chapped but still soft enough to not be unpleasant and he tasted much like he smelled, the ghosts of whiskey and ash dancing on his breath.

Tommy's hands gripped your hips tightly and shuffled your body back blindly until your ass hit the table. You grappled behind you blindly, shoving papers and pencils aside to make room for your body. His palm slipped down to cup your ass and he squeezed tightly, helping you as you slid yourself to sit on the dark cherry wood desk. You finally broke away from the kiss, an absolute feral wreck. It had been so long since you'd kissed anyone, let alone had sex with anyone. Two long years to be exact of loneliness and unfulfillment. It wasn't that you needed a man but boy were they fun to have at times. 

You gripped the lapel of his deep black jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders, allowing it to fall onto the wine colored rug. He only bore his white button up, tie, and suspenders and holy fuck did he wear it well. 

Tommy made quick work of the top four buttons of your dress and shoved the fabric of your bra aside so he could assault your breasts. He was far from gentle as he raked his teeth over your sensitive skin before sinking them in. You gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure, pulling his longer hair when he did. He kneaded the neglected breast firmly as he rolled the delicate bud of the other between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue between nibbles. 

You pulled his mouth back up to yours by his hair and as your lips crashed together once again, you grabbed his ass and pulled him closer to your core. Tommy's breath hitched and he moaned out quietly when he bulging erection came into contact with your barely clothed core. 

The plan was to tease him, make him think he was in control at first but show him who the real boss was. Your hands traveled around the front and you nimbly undid his belt buckle, wiggling his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal his large erection. 

God, it had been so long since you'd been in this position you were almost scared you didn't know what you were doing but muscle memory took over and you carefully took his cock his your hand and pumped him a few times before bringing your palm up to lick a long, wet stripe along your skin, and returning to stroke him. Tommy's fingertips dug sharply into your hips and he leaned his forehead against yours, looking down at your hand pumping his base and teasing the tip with your thumb. 

He was fairly large, not the largest you'd been with but he certainly looked like he could get the job done. A single finger trailed along the underside of his cock, following the large vein there. Tommy shuddered under your touch and looked up to lock eyes with you when you began to circle only the tip with your thumb. 

"Fuck…." A broken moan tumbled from his lips before he gripped your wrist tightly and stopped you, his eyes dark and serious. Tommy tapped your thigh harshly and pointed at the desk, "Turn over." 

Typically you didn't take commands from anyone but Tommy made you want to listen just this once, hearing a hidden promise in that thigh slap. You obeyed, turning over to lie on your stomach on the desk, your ass out and open for Tommy to see. He hiked your dress over your hips and trailed his fingers along your thighs and up to your panties, teasing your overly sensitive skin. His fingers made their way just under the waistband of your cream colored underwear but just as you thought he was going to rip them down and take you there, he snapped the straps of your garter belts against your thighs on both legs. 

“Ow! Fuck you…” You yelped, reaching back to caress the skin. Thomas watched almost as if in a trance as your hand slid over the curvature of your butt and down your thighs, smoothing over the rosy mark he’d left. 

“I plan on it.” He assured, reaching out to tear your underwear down your legs, the fabric pooling with the garters around your ankles. The cool air hit your core as a welcomed breeze, cooling down your overheating body. 

Behind you, Tommy gripped his length and pumped himself a few times before running his tips along your folds, slowly pressing into you. “Damn, no foreplay?” You rolled your eyes sarcastically. Just like every other man you’d been with. 

“Sure doesn’t seem like much of a problem.” He pointed out as he slipped easily into you, just a testament to how wet you were. Your snarky quip was replaced by a gasp as you felt your walls stretch around him. Shit, it had been so long (and, yes, in both senses). 

Tommy let out a low groan and clenched his jaw tightly. You were so tight. Tighter than he’d expected. He set a pace quickly, his hips rocking into yours steadily. He wasn’t moving very fast but he managed to rub up on every spot inside of you, making your body feel like fireworks. The motion in the ocean was rocking your boat but, of course, you couldn’t let his ego get too big. “You call that fucking?” You looked over your shoulder at him, gripping the other edge of the table tightly. 

What you could see of his skin was shining with a sheen of sweat and his brows furrowed in simultaneous annoyance and insecurity at your words. He reached down and shoved your top half down onto the table, keeping his palm splayed firmly across your upper back. Once he felt like you wouldn’t move, he gripped your hips tightly and pulled them back against him, using the extra movement to fuck into you harder. 

“Ah- fuck…” You grunted at the sudden harsh impact sending your body into the wood. The legs of the table creaked and scraped against the rug in a hollow thud. “Tommy!” You whined out, eyes shut as he reached around your front and rubbed your clit. You were quickly falling over the edge.

There it is, Tommy smirked to himself, Tommy again. 

Without warning, your body shuddered and your legs shook as your walls spasmed around him. Wave after wave of pleasure watched over you as your orgasm took you. Tommy felt your walls around him and he struggled to keep his composure and after only a few more thrusts, he too busted inside of you. 

The two of you stood there, breathing heavily, for a moment before he pulled out, a mixture of his seed and your juices dripping down your thighs. Shit, you thought, you’d have to wash up now before you saw anybody now. Tommy stuffed his softening length back in his pants and redressed himself as you buttoned up your dress and readjusted your garter belts. 

“So that’s it.” He threw his jacket over his shoulders. 

You looked indignantly at him, “What?” 

“Why you’re falling apart.” Tommy lit a cigarette and took a deep drag before gesturing with the smoking stick, “A man.” 

Your mouth fell open, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You haven’t fucked in a long time, that much is obvious. But it’s because a man hurt you.” He analyzed. 

You didn’t know how to respond. First, was that an insult? You haven’t fucked in a long time, that much is obvious. Second, how did he know? How was he able to read you like a book? 

Tommy watched as you tried to connect the dots but took the silence as an invitation to head out, “You have sex like you haven’t been touched in years and yet you’re angry and aggressive the whole time. You’re desperate but upset about something that’s happened romantically or sexually.” Your indignant silence only proved his theory and he raised an eyebrow, “You’re not the only one who can read people..” With a final adjustment of his tie, he nodded his farewell, “I’ll be seeing you on Friday with the rest of the money.” 

____________

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