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Everything is Transactional

A Patrick Sumner x OC

Warnings: Smut, Prostitution, Victorian values, mention of death, mention of opium, rough treatment

Listen to Good To Go by Elliott Smith #np on #SoundCloud

The knock was expected but still alarming. It had become somewhat of a routine for them: when Patrick Sumner was in town, he found himself at her door each night, his eyes heavy and his stance slack from opium. They would share each other’s intimacy, she would be paid, and then they would part ways. It was convenient for her.

They met one night after she had dealt with a particularly rough client. The injuries left behind by that venture were visible and internal—welts covered her body, and blood seeped from her cunny. Patrick found her on the street in this state and brought her back to health. Afterwards, he decided to try out her services for himself, in a more gentle manner, of course.

She was Lydia Carpenter. She had been in this line of work since she was young. She had been a kept woman for a moment in history, and she had even borne twins by the age of seventeen. But an altercation had led to her being a widow, and she had to return to prostitution to support her family.

With her and Patrick’s arrangement, she didn’t have to worry about disease or mistreatment, because he was a gentleman and a doctor. This meant he could take care of both her and himself. She kept very few clients because he paid well enough to put food on the table, to help her pay rent, and to keep her children in school instead of the labor force.

Yes, it was understandable why Lydia continued with this arrangement. But that sentiment could not be said about Patrick Sumner. He frivolously spent money and time on fleeting moments of pleasure. Why? Well, it was a mystery. Perhaps it could be blamed on the male tendency to overindulge. Maybe she was just a warm body to him. However, that did not explain why he returned to her every night he could. He could have gone to anyone else.

No, the fact of the matter was that he had caught feelings where he wasn’t supposed to. He adored her subtle cheeks, her bee-stung lips, her long black curls, and the freckles that littered her delicious curves. He admired the way she insisted on being well-dressed and educated despite her class, how she would do absolutely anything in her power to ensure her children were happy and, how she refused to let her children join the workforce and made sure they had a good education. He yearned for the way she let him use her body however he pleased and how she would hold him while he confided in her about his troubles afterwards.

Guilt crept up his chest for using her like this, but all of it was erased when she opened the door and he collapsed into her arms. She fixed his posture, and he immediately pulled her into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, as if he was trying to consume her whole. He pried her lips open with his tongue and licked her teeth. He pushed her inside the house, closed the door behind him, plucked her from the ground, and carried her toward the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed, and she went to take off his trousers. After she undressed him, he quickly returned the favor and ripped off her clothes.

He laid her out on the bed. Her long, black, curly hair, cascading down onto the sheets, was quickly gripped in his fist to pull her into another breathtaking kiss. He wasted no time delving into her warmth. It was as if he was trying to absorb her energy with every thrust. He marked purple blotches across her collarbone and neck to claim her as his own.

When his attention wasn’t occupied, his eyes bore into hers. Her attempts to escape his gaze were futile, because when she tried, he would squeeze her plump cheeks together and force her to meet his stare. In a profession in which she was constantly exposed, she had never felt so observed. All of her clients viewed her as a placeholder, but Patrick wanted to see all of her. He wanted to see her eyes widen in fear, he wanted to see her bite back her moans to avoid being judged, and he wanted to see her blush like a schoolgirl—because it revealed how young she actually was, despite her situation and her maturity.

When he got close to climax, he reluctantly pulled away from her and released onto her thigh. He left her on the bed, her breath heavy, to retrieve a damp cloth. When he returned, he gently wiped away the grime from her and kissed each and every one of the blemishes forming on her skin. He wrapped the cotton sheet around them and rested his chin on her chest.

For the first time that night he spoke.

“I’m terribly sorry I put you through this, this is no way to treat a lady”

“Darling I’m a whore this is exactly how you’re supposed to treat me, in fact you treat me with too much respect”

“Please tell me you don’t actually believe that? you’re the most impeccable woman I know, why do you do this to yourself?”

“To keep my son Gabriel from the factories and so my daughter doesn’t have to join my line of work, I started this when I was 12 it’s all I know”

“I can take care of you”

“No, you deserve a real wife, not a pity project, I’ve had my chance at marriage and I killed my husband”

“What you did was for survival”

“Enough, I’m aware that you’re concerned for me but don’t you realize everyone’s a prostitute? We all sell our bodies and our dignity to survive, if I married you it would be the same situation in a different setting, for now let’s forget about the outside world and just fall asleep in one another’s arms”

“If you insist”

Eventually Lydia’s eyes grew heavy and she lost consciousness. Patrick slowly escaped her embrace, kissed her forehead, placed her payment on the bedside table and escaped through the front door.

#fanfic #fypシ #jack oconnell #north water #patrick sumner #smut #angst