Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 42

Michael

Michael presses the pistol into Calloway's hands.

They stand in an empty warehouse by the canal, in a deserted enough patch of land that nobody would think to bother them. Her eyes widen at the weapon in her palms.

"You expect me to shoot this?"

"I expect you to know how to defend yourself," he says gently. "I made a promise to you, Cal. I'm not letting you get hurt again. And I'd be a shit boyfriend if I didn't teach you the basics."

His chest still flutters at the word. Boyfriend. What a beautifully juvenile, simple word for what he is. A truce of a word, enough for them each to handle. The way I feel about you, it isn't too serious. At the same time — The way I feel about you is really fucking serious.

"Just pull the trigger, right?" she says quietly.

"Not that simple, sweetheart."

Michael begins to undress himself. Loosens his tie. Unbuttons his shirt, slipping fabric to the floor until he's stood in just his boxers. Cal's eyes widen with expectation, and he stifles a grin. Forces himself to remain focused.

"You already know ribs hurt," he tells her, taking one of her hands in both of his and placing it on his own ribcage. "Put enough force behind it, you can even puncture a lung. But there are quicker and easier ways to take a man down."

"Such as?"

"You go for the eyes or the bollocks." She rolls her eyes, biting back a laugh, but Michael raises an eyebrow. "I'm not joking. He'll be in shock for a few seconds. That gives you time to hit him somewhere else, to run away... or to shoot. Other places to aim are the gut or the knees. Gut shots can incapacitate, while knees can take out their mobility. Disable your attacker so you can escape. I'll come back to finish him off."

Calloway takes in the information, her grip on the pistol tightening. She nods. "I can do this."

Michael smiles. "I know you can." He gestures to various parts of his abdomen. "You want to try hit him in this area, or this one — the organs are vulnerable there. And for the knees, aim right here." He points to the joint, indicating the spot to strike. "Alright?"

"Alright."

"Alright," he repeats once more, eyes shining. "Now, show me."

Her eyes widen. "Hit you?"

"For fuck's sake, not hard," he rolls his eyes.

She seems to take his word as gospel. Bending down and placing the pistol on the floor before stepping in closer towards him. She brings the pads of each thumb to his eyes, and his lids flutter shut as her touch grazes the length of them. "Eyes," she says.

"Very good," he murmurs, already bracing himself for what's to come.

Her palms run down the length of his torso. He frowns, the practical part of him wanting to chastise her for skipping over so many organs, the other part of him refusing to stop her touch getting lower and lower. She stays modestly above the fabric of his underwear, but her lips part into a smile as she cups him, and he feels the sensation jolt all the way up his spine.

"Bollocks," she says.

"You were listening. Good girl."

He clears his throat, forces his expression to remain impassive, forces himself to focus.

"I could just keep going here..."

"Cal," he says warningly.

"What? If it'll hurt the most, I should familiarise myself."