Bancroft - Peaky Blinders Reverse Harem x Reader

Chapter 41

There's people everywhere I turn in London. It's my first time into the city, a school trip to the museum. Our tutor glares and tells us to keep up, warns us not to get lost, and so I trudge along with everybody else.

Until my gaze pans across a market stand, and I see a pastel blue hat, with a matching coat. I freeze. My mother had one just like it.

"Mother?" I whisper.

But she's blocked from view, and other children press against my back, moaning at me to move faster. I cannot tear my eyes from where she stands and my feet move without thinking. People walk between us, and I push past them, searching desperately for another glimpse of periwinkle, ears straining for her voice.

"Mother?" I call, and my voice is louder, desperate.

I fight through the crowd of people and I run until I reach the stand. I see her right at the end of the road, turning the corner, and follow as fast as I can. This is it. She must have come back for me, just like I always knew she would. Finally, I'd be free of my father. Finally I'd have somebody, anybody to speak to — I'd outgrown Nannies by now, and so there's nobody at home. Sometimes literally, when father's away training.

Hope spurs me onward and I'm so excited I might throw up, as I finally reach her and pull on her shoulder to turn around and...

A strange, pale lady raised her eyebrows in expectation. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" She asks.

My mouth dries. It's not her.

It's not her, and as I turn around I see we've come down a narrow alley and I have no idea where I am, and there's so many people everywhere and they press against me and I cannot breathe and I'm shoved into a brick wall and my head slams against it and—-

Tommy's hands are firm on my shoulders as he shakes me awake in the first light of morning. I gasp for air, re-orienting myself. I'm here. I'm with Tommy.

I bring my hands to my face and press them gently against my eyes. He sighs softly in relief, and he's warm against me in the sleeping bag.

"Bad dream?" He asks.

"It's nothing." I push myself up until I'm sitting, sleeping bag gathered around my waist.

"I know what a nightmare looks like, Bancroft. You were shouting and shaking all over the place."

"It's stupid, Tommy," I whisper. "Just... old memories."

He answers after a moment. "That doesn't sound so unintelligent."

"Believe me." I find his hand and bring it to my chest, holding it there. "It's..."

"Your father?"

I shake my head. "My mother. She left. I knew my father was a piece of shit before I even started school, but my mother... I never got a chance to find out either way. I always hoped she'd come back. That there'd be a reason she had to go, and maybe she wouldn't be terrible." I swallow. "That might mean hope for me. Two awful parents, and I'm doomed to be the same. But if it's only the one..."

He takes me in his arms and presses his lips against my forehead. "You're not them," he tells me.

"But what if I become them?"

"You won't." He strokes my hair. "You're a Peaky Blinder now. You're one of us."

When he kisses me it is so exquisite, all last traces of the nightmare melt away.

"We need to change your bandage," he tells me. "I bought supplies."

I roll my eyes in response. "Of course you did."

He crosses the tent to the duffel bag and pulls out a handful of medical supplies. I pull myself free of the sleeping bag. I'm only in lingerie and so my legs are bare — the heat of our bodies pressed together kept me warm all night.

As Tommy's methodical hands move across my leg, I get a rush of goosebumps that might have nothing to do with the cold.

"Are you sure you can see what you're doing?" I ask.

"Would you believe I've bandaged men under worse conditions?" He asks.

I nod. "Good point."

"It's almost healed," he says. "Few more days, you won't need this anymore."

"Thank god for that," I mutter.

He cleans it then wraps a new bandage around my leg, his pressure firm. When he's finished, he dips his head and kisses the inside of my thigh. I suddenly feel as though I might faint.

He pauses, tilting his head to look at me, having obviously felt my reaction. "You like when I kiss you there?" He asks.

"I don't know," I whisper because I'm suddenly shy. Then, in a moment of bravery, "Maybe you need to do it again."

His eyes burn as he lowers his lips to my bare skin once more. My breath catches in my throat. He kisses me, moving slowly upwards, towards the apex of my thighs. Wetness begins to pool between my legs as I tremble.

"What do you think now?" He asks, so close that I can feel his breath against my clit through the fabric of my underwear.

"Still not sure," I tell him, close to hyperventilating. "Maybe you should keep going."

He laughs softly as he lowers his mouth and licks me through my lace underwear. I cry out, back arching, and I'm still recovering as he slips them down ny legs.

"Got to treat my princess how she ought to be treated," he murmurs.

"I still resent the term," I say, but I'm lacking any conviction as he spreads my legs and holds me down by the hips.

"We'll see how you feel when I'm done with you," he says.

And then his tongue runs the length of my slit, flicking against me at the top until I shake. He licks and sucks, and his tongue is beyond heavenly as he runs it relentlessly against my clit. My hands go to his head and he's so warm between my thighs, his hair so soft beneath my fingers. His grasp on my hips tightens and he groans into me, sending vibrations straight through my core.

I whimper, so close to coming undone already, but it's almost as though it's what he's been waiting for. He releases me with one hand and brings it down, pushing into me with two fingers and stretching me as I widen around them. I release a loud cry as he pushes into me, again and again, while his tongue pins my clit in place and demands it to come.

My hips try to lift, but he pins me down with his free forearm across my pelvis. I'm unable to lessen the stimulation, to find release anywhere but in him.

With his head buried into me and his fingers working into my g-spot, I shake until I can't bear it any longer and then I fall apart, waves of ecstasy rolling through me. He groans appreciatively into my cunt and I think I'm finished.

"One more sweetheart," he murmurs, between sucking on my clit. "I know you can do it."

And he keeps up his rhythm, inside me and against me with his tongue, and I whimper and gasp.

"I can't," I try to tell him, but I feel his wicked grin against my clit.

"I think you can."

And when his tongue demands it once more, my eyes roll back and I come for him again, clutching his head against me in my hands, both overstimulated and never wanting it to end. I'm still shaking after it's finished, and he slowly pulls away from me. I'm aching in his absence.

I kiss him hungrily, and feel him stiff in surprise at first, not expecting it.

"What, you think I'd be bothered by how I taste after what you just did?" I ask.

"Maybe you're right after all," he tells me, eyes flashing. "That's not very princess-like."