Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 44

Calloway

Michael winces as I dab at the cuts and bruises across his arms.

"Hold still," I frown, not enjoying this any more than he is.

But he did this for me. Did everything he could for me, when I was in a much worse state. It's the least I owe him in return. And then Polly had smiled, and left the first aid basket beside me, and left us to it, and I'd had no choice.

Even if I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Should have taught you bloody first aid," he says. "Instead of shooting bottles."

"If you'd done that, we'd be mopping pieces of you from the factory floor." My hands tremble as I say the words.

I see Michael's jaw clench, but he refuses to admit the truth in my words. "I had it under control, Cal."

"Fuck off," I mutter.

"Alright. I fucking didn't. I was about to die, and then you came and shot the bastard."

"That's more like it."

"Unbelievable," he mutters.

"Don't go forgetting it, Gray. Next time you tell me to stay home, I'll remind you of this."

"Back to calling me Gray now, are we?"

I clean the last scrape on his arm. "Yes."

"Why's that, eh?"

I close my eyes, unable to put it into words. A new fear ripping me open.

I've fallen in love with a man who may very well be killed.

To admit it would mean opening myself up to the unimaginable heartbreak I'd feel if such an event happens. I cannot lose Michael. Not now. And after a lifetime of fighting for my own independence, my very heart seems ready to relinquish it.

"Don't you go pushing me away again," he murmurs. "Not after the grief you fucking gave me for almost dying on you."

"Exactly." The word leaves me in a harsh whisper, and I suddenly find myself very busy packing away the first aid basket.

"No," he says warningly. "No, Cal. We're not doing this again. Oi. Look at me." He takes my face between his bruised knuckles. I have no choice but to meet his gaze, his eyes round and sincere. "I'm not fucking doing this again."

"Then don't."

"You think I can't handle myself? That it?"

"No, Michael." I push down tears.

"You think you can push me away, and we'll take a fucking train and go our separate ways again? Because that didn't work, remember? You found your way back to me. We're meant to be together, Cal."

"Michael..."

"I'm not leaving you again. I'm not going to be so stupid. So you can fucking frown and scowl and be as shitty as you like, and it's not going to change anything. It's not going to change the way I feel about you." His hold on me loosens, and I see a flicker of fear cross his face. Vulnerability. "So why are you being so mean to me, eh? Tell me that. It's because you think I can't take care of myself?"

My voice is laced with anguish. "No."

"Because you don't want to be with me? That it?"

"No."

"Then what is it, Cal? Why do you fucking do this to me, eh?"

My chest aches until it becomes unbearable, and the words explode from me when I can no longer contain them. "Because that's how I love you," I say, and they echo between us. "That's how I'll always love you."

Furious with myself, I push myself to my feet to put away the first aid basket, but Michael's grip closes around my wrist. I tug myself free and my eyes burn with humiliation as I leave, heading into the kitchen. There's no sign of Polly anywhere — thank goodness. Her bearing witness to this might be even worse than last time.

But Michael's not letting me escape so easily. "Would you fucking come back here?"

He takes my hand and pulls me back, the first aid basket clattering to the floor and spilling vials and bandages everywhere. Without so much as a glance, Michael wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me in close to him, his eyes darkening as he holds me against his body, and presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss like I've never felt.

"I love you, Cal," he says.

I mumble, "You're only saying it because I did."

"I've been telling you this whole fucking time," he breathes into me. "From the moment I met you, it's been like the weight of a thousand suns. And the pain's worth it. You'd be worth it in every lifetime." His lips press to mine again, and he weaves a hand through my hair. "I'd rather endure hell with you than heaven without you." His lips brush mine as he speaks. "I'll cross the seas for you, and I'll pull down every fucking star in the sky. I've never needed anything like I need you. I love you."

I gasp softly into him. There's no doubting the words as they fall from his lips, into my own. There's no doubting the tears that brim in his eyes mirroring mine, as he buries his head into my neck and pushes me against the wall and kisses me, soft and hard and everything all at once. I run my hands through his hair and savour him, all of him, wanting him and wanting this and unable to bear thinking about how different this could be if I didn't reach him in time.

"How did you bear it?" I whisper against him. "When I was hurt?"

"Planned how I'd kill the men who hurt you." He lifts me onto the kitchen counter, wraps my legs around his waist. "Killed three of them tonight."

I hear the metal clink of his belt and feel wetness pool between my thighs in anticipation. "Maybe that's my problem," I say, kissing him, ruining all his concentration. "There's none left for me to kill."

He pulls my clothes down my legs until I'm bare for him. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll find you a couple others."

He runs the head of his cock up and down along my slit until I'm panting, desperate and begging and pleading for him, and then he stretches me wide as he pushes into my core.

"Fuck, Michael," I whimper, face creasing in ecstasy.

He fucks me slow, burying himself each time, pausing a moment before pulling out and slamming back into me again. My hands are at his neck, our foreheads pressed together as he groans and I pant, so lost in him I don't want to feel any way but this ever again.

And then he stops, stilling his hips as he kisses me, as he takes me in like he might never lay eyes on me again.

"What?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"I love you," he whispers. He kisses me, and moves inside me once more. "I just really fucking love you. So much, Cal, you have no idea."

I gasp softly, smiling. "I love you too, Michael. Oh my god, I'm going to come," I whine.

"Go on, sweetheart, fucking come for me."

My cries fill the room as I do what he says, and I clench around him as he fills me up, head tipped back as his hands tighten around my thighs. I'm still shaking by the time we've both returned to ourselves, and he kisses me deeply.

"I'll make you a tea," he murmurs.

My eyes widen. "Oh, shit."

"Don't worry, love," he laughs softly into my ear. "Mum showed me how to do it. Thought it'd come in useful at some stage."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Your mum's endured more of our sex life than any person should have to in their lifetime."

He chuckles again, and pulls me close to him as he whispers his next words. "Forgot to tell you — her car's still in the driveway."

"You're not funny," I grumble, kissing him and vowing to myself that I'm not going to double check if he's lying.

I'd rather not know. "Hurry up and make my tea," I tell him. "I'm getting anxious."

"Anything for you, my love," he says, eyes shining as he reluctantly pulls away.