LIKE STEEL || Tommy Shelby

XIV. NEW ROLES

- NEW ROLES -

February 28th, 1920

He unmade her, taking the pieces he left behind and putting them perfectly back in place. His gaze, his hands, and his lips raged fire across her body, leaving her blazing from the inside out. For hours, until Rose was fighting to keep her eyes open, they created a world of their own. Windows fogged as all she could see was him. All she could feel and smell and want was him.

As she awoke in the morning, her nose cold but her body warm, she turned to look at the man still laying in her arms.

He looked like a different man when he was asleep. His cheeks flushed with pink, he looked at peace in a way she never thought she would see him. His chest rose and fell gently as she rested her head on it, tracing a finger idly across his chest. With his eyes closed and a stray beam of winter sun finding its way through the curtains, he finally looked young. His pink lips were parted as he slept, an arm still firmly gripping her waist.

She could have stayed like that for the rest of the day. The rest of her life. Staring at him- his peace, the calm, his lips, everything. She wanted that future so bad her chest ached, heaviness threatening to wash over her. It floated away, though, as he stirred, his hand gently moving across her back.

He barely opened his eyes, instead just pulling her closer and sighing gently.

"What time is it," he asked, his voice low and rough.

"Good morning to you too, Mr Shelby," she said, trying to hold back the smile rising on her lips.

In answer, he shifted his hand down her back-

"Tommy!" she exclaimed, laughing as his other hand also made its way to her backside.

"Good morning, Ms King."

She squeezed her lips together, holding in another laugh if only so her landlady would not come to see what was going on.

He pulled her on top of him, only letting go to pull the blankets over her waist. Despite the winter chill, her skin was warmed by his touch.

He sat up so they were face to face, a rare smile playing on his lips.

"Good morning," he said again, placing a kiss to one corner of her mouth. Her heart threatened to burst as he smirked.

"Good morning."

Another kiss to the other corner. To her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw.

"Good morning," he breathed against the skin at the crook of her neck, finally resting his head there.

She stroked a hand up and down his back, her body melting as his breath flitted across her bare chest.

She dared to look up at the clock above her door and sighed.

"It's eight," she breathed, finally answering his question and lowering her lips to his ear, kissing it gently.

He didn't move, instead massaging his hands across her skin. She pressed her lips together again, tipping her head back. Every touch of his hands was a type of pleasure she never dreamed she could feel.

"Do you have something to do?" she asked, silently praying that they would never have to leave the confines of her room.

"Yes," he said, lifting his eyes to hers. A smile played on his lips as he finally leaned in and kissed her gently. "And it's very important."

"And what might that be?" she asked against his lips, her stomach tightening as his hands still roamed her body.

Without warning, he flipped her over so he was hovering only a foot above her. She stared up at him, marveling at his muscled chest and playful smile.