CHAPTER 29

L'APPEL DU VIDE

❝ and his mouth does unto you

the sweetest violence;

his hands the most holy of ruins,

like you could pull the night apart

and still be gentle in the morning ❞

Like so many times before, Rose found solace in her sisters. They were gathered at the makeshift stage where Angeline was about to sing, far enough from Thomas that Rose could pretend to ignore his lingering presence and how his musky scent still clung to her, the taste of him forever on her tongue.

"Ah, soeurette, it's easier to kill the Devil than to love him, isn't it?" Renée asked, a compassionate smile on her face as she drew Rose into her arms.

Rose groaned but let herself be embraced, her sister's warmth like coming home to a fireplace after trudging through a blizzard. "You saw that?"

"Who didn't?" Audrey giggled, twirling a golden curl around her finger with a dreamy sigh. "Now that was a kiss."

"Put mine and Finn's smooching to shame!" Andrea tittered, racing towards them with a grin as Finn chased her down the grey-green fields. Despite everything, Rose smiled. Things had been different between them ever since the Saurets had hurt her, but now that Andrea was wrapping an arm around her, hugging her tight like she used to, Rose realized maybe it was only from her side, that she'd been putting distance between them because she felt like she had failed Andrea and didn't know how to cope with it.

"Which is why I want to snog you again!" Finn shouted as he neared them, freckles rosier from the chase and cap long gone. "I need to outdo Thomas!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Andrea threw her head back in tantalizing laughter, darting off once again. Finn flew past them; once he got a hold of her they fell down the grass, rolling over each other without a care in the world. Rose envied them and admired them, just like she admired Raphael, brave enough to go against the world for James. She'd seen him leave the party to go after him, and she desperately wanted the courage to do the same.

Love seemed so easy for everyone, and it pained her that for her it was the hardest, most cruel thing in the world.

Thomas deserved better than to be left behind all the time. Rose knew, and yet she kept doing it, because she was terrified of what it might mean, of what it might do to her, to run into him and not away for once.

"Why did you reject him, Rose?" Audrey asked, face serious. Because he said he loved me, and there's nothing scarier than that. But Rose didn't want to admit that, didn't want to let the fear inside her have any stronger a voice. Sometimes it spoke so loud inside her it deafened her, replaced her own voice. Sometimes it sounded like her mother, dying in her arms. Most times it sounded like Steaphan, whispering promises of gold that turned into mud.

"Shh, Angeline is going to sing." Rose had never been so glad to hear her sister, crooning softly, lulled by the melodic chords. Jules wasn't even staring at the piano keys anymore, only at her. Angeline sang about love, and heartache, a melancholic French tune that brought tears to so many. And in every word Rose couldn't stop seeing Thomas, all tousled dark hair and bluest eyes, telling her he wanted her, that he loved her. She should have said it back, but in that moment she couldn't find her voice; her fears had taken it away from her, rendered her silent. Love should not feel like a death sentence, and yet she still heard it that way.

So when Angeline sang about two lovers who loved each other across time and space, across universes and timelines and somehow always found their way back to one another, she cried. Not much, just enough that the violin tears she always held inside her finally spilled out as real, painful sobs.

"What are you crying for?" Angeline sniggered as she jumped down the stage, though even her brittle-harsh eyes were sympathetic. "Shouldn't Thomas be the one bawling his eyes out? You did break his heart, didn't you? I thought that was my ability."

"It still is." Rose wiped her eyes, glad for the tears blurring her vision. She didn't want to accidentally stare at Thomas, because she knew wherever he was her gaze would be drawn to him, like a moth to the coldest of flames. "You broke my heart all these years ago when I first heard you sing, Angeline. It's your voice. You have a voice that breaks hearts. And I knew that from then on, every time I heard you sing my heart would just keep on breaking."

"That's nice and all, but it still doesn't justify why you just broke Thomas Shelby's stone heart, in his house and in public, no less."

"Yeah, you don't need to rub in my face I screwed things up, I know that." And she was tired of it. She was so, so tired of running away from the things she wanted the most.

"Then what are you gonna do about it? Crying won't help fix things." Angeline huffed, but took a moment to calm down when Jules joined her side, gently kissing her temple. He was always the calm to her storm. And Rose knew their love hadn't been easy either, but seeing them now, it was every bit worth it. Maybe... maybe Thomas and I... "Just go and tell him you love him too, how hard could it be?"

"Why are you encouraging me? Don't you all hate the idea of me with him?" Rose looked around, stunned. This was part of why she was holding herself back, because she knew how much her family was against it and how much they'd suffered because of her past love, and she'd always put her family above her own heart.

"Oh Rose..." Renée sighed, held her face in her hands. As the oldest, she tended to notice things first. She always transported Rose years back, countries away, to a time and place where things were better, where she believed the world would be kind, where her heart was still intact and always eager to love. "We might not like him, but we love you a thousand times more. If he makes you happy, even if it's hard for us to believe he can, we'll support you. If you want to be with him, don't let us or anyone else stop you."

"But Steaphan..." Rose mumbled, the tattoo on her back burning her from inside out. Even if the words were no longer readable, the weight of them still hurt the same way. Her throat was clogged up, tight with unshed tears. "And what happened to our mother..."

"Thomas is nothing like Steaphan, and you know it too," Audrey said gently. "You're just still holding onto that idea because you're afraid to give yourself completely, which is understandable. Everyone's afraid when they're that much in love."

"Do you remember what you once told me?" Rose grasped her sister's arm, both an anchor and a life ring. "About how Steaphan looked at me?"

"Yes." Audrey blinked, unsure of where Rose was going with this. "I said he looked at you like you're the sun and he doesn't know if he wants to touch you or be burned by you."

"Tell me how Thomas looks at me." Rose grabbed her hand then, desperately. It was too important a moment. She felt like her future depended on this, like her heart was being weighted in the scales of fate.

"He looks at you like you'll be taken away from him at any second, and then he looks away like he can't stand the thought of that. He..." Audrey held her breath, as if unable to withstand the emotion. She was empathic like that. "He looks at you like you're his only moment of peace between wars. He loves you, Rose. The kind of love poets spend a lifetime trying to capture in their poems."

Rose's heart hammered in her chest. She looked up at the moonlit sky, for the first time letting herself believe she could have this. That it wouldn't be taken away from her, that it wouldn't take everything from her. It was easy to imagine, to get lost in the feeling. It made her head spin more violently than any drink that night.

"I want to tell him, but... I always get too scared."

"You once told me feelings got worse inside of us," Jules said, tone tender. "And that's what you're doing now. You're bottling up all this emotion you have for him because you're afraid you'll get hurt like before, because you're just so fundamentally terrified by love and yet in such desperate need of it. You told me feelings were meant to be let out, otherwise they're not feelings, just spectres of what they could be. You asked me why I would be afraid of sharing such a beautiful thing, and now that I have and all my heart is out in the open, I have no idea what I was so afraid of in the first place. I know you have been terribly hurt by love. But if you'd let yourself see... you'd be surprised at how much you can be healed by it. Remember what I told you? Death is not the only way you can die. But love is the only way you can live. Let yourself feel, Rose. Let yourself live."

Rose closed her eyes, the rush of blood thrumming in her temples. When she finally opened them she looked back at the house. She thought she caught a glimpse of grey and blue in the upper windows, but that might just have been her wishful thinking.

"Putain, you're right." She breathed in and out, nerves on edge. Then she beamed. "Don't wait up for me, alright? I don't plan to come back soon."

"Just go!" Audrey winked, eagerly shoving her in the direction of the door. "Go get your mec!"

Before she entered the house, however, she heard Angeline shout.

"Three hundred and fifty five days! That's how long you kept you resolution of not sleeping with him. I told you I was counting!"

Rose clutched the doorknob. "Yeah, and it was too fucking long already!"

Delighted laughter followed after her, but inside the house was quiet, as if Thomas had kicked out everyone to be alone. Her pulse pounded in her head as she raced up the stairs. She needed to make things right with him, needed to let him know. After crossing too many hallways, she finally saw his silhouette disappearing around a corner, dark blue suit stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and his name came out of her raw and desperate.

"Thomas!" She ran after him the same way she'd run so many times to the Somme's front line: heedless of how she'd come back from it. Thomas stilled but didn't look back.

"Have you not humiliated me enough?" His voice was terribly cold; only then did she understand the true extent of the damage she'd caused. Could she even fix it? Or was this just another thing she broke but couldn't heal?

"Putain, Thomas, I'm sorry, I..." Her voice was small and barely carried across the long dim corridor. It felt like Thomas was miles away, like no matter how much she ran towards him she'd never catch him. Suddenly her fear was another one, much more agonizing: that she'd lost him forever, that he'd finally gotten tired of waiting for her, tired of getting cut in her thorns. Is it too late? Have I lost you for good? "I was scared."

He swung around abruptly, crushed the distance between them in no time. Suddenly he was in front of her, much more real than any version of him she'd dreamed of. He was beautiful in a way no human should be allowed to be, for his beauty was almost inhumane, perilous, the way carefully sculpted statues were beautiful, the way angels depicted in ancient paintings were beautiful, before they grabbed at you and dragged you to the deepest pits of hell.

"And you think you're the only one? Eh?" He slid a finger under her jaw, forced her to look up. His stare was unbearable. Too deep, too open. An ocean of danger and desire. "Rose, I'm fookin' terrified. You make me feel things beyond my limits, make me do things I never thought I would, and that fookin' scares me. But that won't stop me from wanting you. I have so many enemies, and they might use you or what I feel for you to get to me, and I might get sloppy and compromise everything I have, and still, I want you."

Rose heaved in a shaky breath. There was only one last thing she needed to know. If she was permanent, like the tattoos on his arms and chest.

"What am I to you, Thomas?"

"What are you?" He scoffed, grasped her chin with one hand. It wasn't gentle; Rose didn't want him to be. "Rose, you're the only part of me I know how to live with."

Her breath hitched, but once she got it back, she kissed him long and hard, for once letting her mouth create life instead of taking it.

"Je t'aime," she whispered, right into his parted mouth. He smelled of something strong and enticing – cedarwood and amber and spices, and it made her hungry for more. "Putain, je t'aime tant, tant, tant..."

"I know you do." Thomas smiled, earnest and nightless, and it was such a rare sight it almost brought tears to her eyes. "So why did you reject me so much, eh? Did it make you feel good? Got a kick out of humiliating me? Is that your thing?"

"No, I..." She bit her lip, stifling a giggle at his insinuation. "It wasn't because I didn't want it, but because I was terrified of how much I did want it. Because I was afraid it wouldn't mean to you what it would mean to me."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, much softer now. "Let me show you what it means to me, Rose. Let me treat you right."

(WARNING: explicit sexual content ahead!! please stop reading here if you're not comfortable with it)

She gave him her answer in the form of a heated kiss; they stumbled through his bedroom doors in a mess of twined tongues and greedy hands, pulling at each other's clothes, desperate to feel skin. He shoved her against the wall of his room more gently than he had to, one hand clasped around her neck like a pearly necklace, the other sliding up her bare thigh. She was shivering and on fire, alert and in a daze, all at once.

"Should I be gentle?" He murmured against her neck, gliding his lips down the curve of her jaw before biting on the skin above her collarbones and giving it a soothing lick afterwards. "Or should I ruin you?"

"You've ruined me enough." She gasped as he tightened his grip around her thigh, fingers dangerously close to her underwear. Her knees buckled, and she bit hard on her tongue to stop from whimpering. She repaid him by getting rid of his suit jacket, fingers moving to unbutton his shirt. "But I happen to like that, so no, don't be gentle."

The groan Thomas let out was gruff and desperate, but he wasted no time in grabbing her and throwing her onto his bed. She fell on his mattress naturally, like she belonged there, golden hair spreading around her like a pristine halo. Thomas stood by the footboard, one knee on the bed, tie loose and sleeves rolled up, his shirt open half-way, drinking in the sight of her splayed out on his sheets.

"Fuck, you're a vision."

"Take off my dress and I'll be even more so," she said, tracing her lower lip with her tongue. She knew what this would do to him, and indeed the deepest shade of desire darkened his eyes, pupils dilating, his jaw setting. She squirmed when he hovered over her, one hand planted right next to her head, caging her in. He was holding himself up on his arm, but she wanted him to crush her, to close the distance, so there was no part of them where they weren't touching.

He curled one finger around the shoulder strap of her gown. "Was this tailored for you?"

"Yes."

"I won't rip it then. I want you to use it again. For me." He slid the strap down her shoulder, slowly. "There won't be a time where I don't enjoy taking it off."

"Fuck," she said, because his hand was back on her thigh, forcing her legs open.

"What do you want, Rose?" He caressed the skin of her inner thigh, so slow it was driving her insane. It was only fair he'd taunt her after all the rejections and blue balls she'd put him through, but she thought this was a little too much. "Tell me and it's yours."

What do I want? I want everything about you, Thomas Shelby. From the wisps of smoke your velvety lips drop into the air to the ice that thaws inside your eyes and burns my skin, to the way your fingers feel like silk shrouding my soul, to how your silver tongue is like honey dripping down my throat, I want you.

But she couldn't tell him all this, or his ego would be as big as the bulge in his pants, so she settled for something just as true.

"I want you. I want the good and the bad and the broken. Putain, especially the broken. Your pieces belong in my pieces. I was wrong, Thomas. Two voids do make a whole. The truth is I have never felt as complete as when you tear me apart." She shoved him by the chest then, just enough that she could glide towards the edge of the bed and sink to her knees. "In fact, let me show you just how ruined you make me feel. I want to break you apart too. Come here."

She patted the bed in front of her, relishing in how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down beneath his skin.

"Fuck, Rose, you don't have to. Let me..." He reached for her, tried to get her back on the bed. This was a lot coming from Thomas Shelby, putting her pleasure above his, and as giddy as it made her feel, it's not what she wanted.

"Don't act like you didn't like my tongue in your mouth," she hissed, bloodred nails trailing slowly up his leg, dragging across his thighs, too tempting. Thomas growled, cock twitching in his pants. "Don't act like you won't like it on your cock too."

"Fuck," he said, and the next second he was sitting in front of her, legs spread wide, pants too tight over his crotch. She unbuttoned his slacks with ease, staring up at him through her lashes. Both of his fists were gripping his silk sheets harshly, a muscle ticking in his jaw, but he never looked away. "You're a fookin' minx," he croaked out, and then, softer, "so pretty on your knees for me."

Whimpering at the praise, she wasted no time in taking his cock out and wrapping her glossy red lips around the tip, reveling in in the hot, thick weight of it, how it hardened in her mouth. Above her Thomas grunted lowly and Rose doubled her efforts, determined to make him come undone.

"You can pull my hair if you want, I like it." She pulled away just enough to wet her lips, darting her tongue out to lick at him and taste him. She traced the veins on the underside of his cock before lapping at the tip, dragging her tongue painfully slow across the slit. Thomas groaned, the bed under him squeaking from how hard he was trying to hold himself back. "See if you'll ever want another woman after this."

It was as much of a threat as it was a promise, that she'd do him better than anyone ever had, than anyone ever would.

"Fuck," he mumbled, shaky hands leaving the sheets to bury into her hair and tug at her locks as she swallowed him whole, two devil horns where once had been a halo. "Fuck, you're so fucking good at this."

That made her moan against his throbbing cock, and she fought back the tears to take him in deeper, sucking at him until he was gasping for air.

She heard him curse in Romani, a low, lilting grunt. Then his thumb came to the corner of her mouth, stroking it gently. "Let me fuck your mouth, pretty."

She pulled back from him entirely, smirking upon the incensed glare he sent her. She was pushing him too close to the edge only to pull back at the last second, driving him insane.

"Only if you make me choke."

It was a risky thing to say, and Thomas took it in stride, his grumble dangerous and warning. Stroking his cock fast and rough in front of her face, he smeared pre-cum along her cheek, then rubbed the tip across her lips to make her open her mouth, and then he was holding her head in place and shoving his cock into her mouth harshly, thrusting into the wet warmth of it again and again. Strong, possessive fingers splayed against her throat, feeling the outline of his own cock beneath her delicate skin. Rose hummed around him, taking him as deep down her throat as she could, stroking the part of his cock that didn't fit in her mouth, and then she glanced up, half-lidded but purposeful.

Their gazes locked; Rose suckled at him forcefully, and in turn Thomas yanked at her hair and set an unforgiving pace, using her as he wanted, chasing down his own pleasure. Ignoring the ache in her jaw and the soreness of her throat she hollowed her cheeks, bobbed her head up and down on his length and made sure he'd never forget the feel of her tongue on him. She moaned against him again; she couldn't get enough of his cock, hot and heavy in her mouth, couldn't get enough of his low groans and how each muscle strained so perfectly on his body.

"Fuck, aren't you an angel? Look at you, so pretty. You're everything I wanted and more," he let out between ragged breaths, chest heaving. "You were made for this, weren't ya? Made to be stuffed full of cock, but only mine. Such a good girl, taking me in so well."

He thrust deeper into her, bent on making her choke, and she gagged around him but didn't stop sucking at him until he was coming down her throat, savoring every last drop he had to give. She licked her lips when he pulled out of her mouth, jaw stinging and knees bruised, but a contented smile on her face.

"Fookin' hell," Thomas said, dropping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling with a dazed look in his cerulean eyes. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd ruin everyone else for me. Come 'ere. I'll take care of you now."

He was gentle when he pulled her into the bed with him, but before he could take her dress off, she clawed at his shirt.

"I told you," she said, voice hoarse and spent, "with me, you don't undress the woman first."

She ripped his shirt apart with ease, and as soon as he was naked, her hands were over him, palming each inch of skin, tracing down every tattoo and scar, every dip and curve, every bulging vein and ridge of muscle. She kissed the scar on his abdomen tenderly, as if it was a secret only the two of them knew. Thomas' body was a constellation map of lean muscle, sharp edges and faded scars and she kissed each one of them as if they were sacred.

"How are you so perfect?" Thomas murmured, incredibly fond. He held her in his arms for a moment, let her touch him all she wanted, peppered her face with kisses. When it was his turn he took her time with her, stripped her off the dress torturously slow. It fell on the floor like a crooked shadow, his white shirt next to it like an angel's torn wings. They were making each other unholy, getting drunk on each other's poison. She traced the sunrays inked on his chest with care, but he was rough when he dragged his nails down the ya'aburnee on her shoulder blade, as if to tear through it, shed her skin anew.

When she was as naked as him, he pulled her to him, grabbing the back of her thighs to make her sit on his face.

"Thomas..." She whimpered, afraid to crush him in some way.

"Stay still for me, will ya? I'll make you feel good." It was the only warning Rose got before Thomas buried his head between her thighs, lapping at the wetness gathered there before snaking his tongue into her most private place. Rose gasped, quivering hands clutching at the headboard, and looked down at him. What a vision he was – hair mussed, lips plump and wet and cheeks flushed as crimson as hers, fully devoted to her and her pleasure alone. She felt like the world was hers – was this how God felt?

"You can pull my hair if you want," Thomas mirrored her previous words, a devilish smirk gracing his angelic face as he spread his hands on her thighs to stop her from closing them. "I like it."

Then he was flicking his tongue against her entrance and licking into her, tasting her with equal fervor until she was writhing and whimpering and begging for more. His tongue was equally devilish, his need to worship just as intense as hers, and her hands came to grasp at his hair desperately as she grind down on him, shamelessly riding his face.

"Fuck, just like that." Her eyes rolled back when he closed his moist lips over her clit, circling it with his tongue before he buried his face even more into her, his entire mouth over her core. "You feel so fucking good."

"Yeah?" Chills coursed through her when his breath hit where she was most vulnerable, most eager. "And you taste like fookin' heaven."

Thighs trembling and hands tugging at his dark hair, she risked a glance at him again. He was even more of a vision like this, pupil-blown eyes and slick-coated lips, driven by the sheer need to please, all hers.

"Thomas... Thomas..." She moaned and threw her head back as he hungrily lapped at her slit and sucked her clit, devouring her like he hadn't eaten anything as good in years. She felt electric and dizzy with power, euphoric flames of ecstasy spreading all throughout her the more his tongue swirled around; the pleasure was almost too much to bear. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me, love," he murmured against her, fingers digging into her skin before rubbing soothing circles over the expanse of her thighs. He licked long, languid stripes up and down her core, humming sweet nothings to her that sent explosive vibrations pulsating throughout her body. "Make a mess for me, come on. I'll make you come again in no time."

In the end it was all it took: his raspy voice straight into her, the Birmingham inflection of it, as demanding as it was alluring. Rose felt the tension coil in her belly like a taut arrow, desperate to be released, pushing her closer and closer to a delicious edge. And when he curled his tongue inside her and hummed against her, two of his fingers joining in and scissoring her open, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbing harshly at her, that's when hot-white bursts of pleasure quaked through her, Thomas' name rolling off her tongue like a prayer, like a sin, like every word ever spoken. He milked her through her orgasm, making sure to drink in every last drop, then pulled her to him and kissed her harsh so they could both taste her on their tongues.

"You look so pretty like this, all choked up and vulnerable." He thumbed at the corner of her eyes, catching a stray tear. He trailed another down her face, then pressed a finger into her mouth. She sucked him in, twirled her tongue around his finger with a heady gaze. Thomas cursed when she nipped at the skin of his thumb, and in turn brought his calloused hand up to her breasts, squeezing at it before slowly grazing a nail over her nipple. Then he moved his hand to her throat, fingers carefully digging around her neck. Her breath hitched. Eyes never leaving his, she clasped his wrist, urging him to go on, and he tightened his hold, thumb pressing right over her pulse point. Her eyes shut instantly, head thrown back as the lack of oxygen made her lightheaded, and the world was nothing but bliss and light and how good Thomas' hands were on her. "You just love being choked, don't ya? Whether it's me cock or me hand, as long as it's mine, you'll let me."

She didn't want to admit how much he was right, how much she liked that, so instead she hissed and pushed his arm away. She couldn't let him get the upper hand. This game they were playing, this push and pull – it was delicious and maddening, and she had to win.

"Do you know how I'd look even prettier?" She smirked and flipped them over until he was lying down on his bed with her on top of him, hands splayed over his heaving chest. "Riding you, with your cock deep inside me, touching me deeper than anyone ever has."

They'd been pushing and pulling at each other all night, and in the end, Thomas gave in first.

"Fuck," he said, and she grinned as he propped himself up against the headboard and pulled her closer to him by the back of her thighs, helping her settle on him. She lined his cock up with her entrance, and then he was entering her and everything was pleasurable pain, her teeth digging into her bottom lip to suppress a cascade of moans. His thumb instantly went to her mouth, forcing it open. "Let me hear everything, love. Wanna know how good I'm making ya feel."

"Better than anyone ever has," she said, and chuckled when she felt him grow even bigger inside her, the dark of his eyes almost engulfing the blue. She grind her hips down on him in slow, sensual circles, lowering and lifting herself as she wished, her hips rolling over him like waves laving at the shore. "You look so fucking good like this." She gave him his words back, his fingers digging deeper into her lower back and hips to keep her in place. "Letting me use you like this, like your cock was made for me to fuck myself on."

"It was," Thomas let out in a rushed breath, and that single thing might have been the truest thing he ever said. "It's all yours."

"Good boy." Rose planted a kiss on his lips and then she grinned, and that was all the warning Thomas got before she started bouncing up and down on his cock mercilessly, Thomas grunting helplessly underneath her.

Of course, Thomas Shelby didn't let himself submit for too long. Once he realized they were both close, he flipped them over and thrust into her hard, the bedframe slamming against the wall over and over and her French curses falling down her parted lips like the sweetest honey. He circled both her wrists with one hand, then entwined his fingers with hers, kept her firmly trapped against him and the mattress as he fucked into her with such force Rose was shocked the bed hadn't broken yet.

The world was reduced to nothing but her breathy moans and his low groans, the bed squeaking nonstop beneath them, beads of sweat rolling down their heated skin. Her ankles glided down the back of his thighs and down his legs, nails leaving rivers of red skin as she scratched down his back. Rose felt like she would die from this, from so much pleasure, so much feeling. Her body was too small for everything she was feeling, every nerve ending in her melting and alight at the same time. Thomas dropped chills down her spine, spread wildfire through her veins, and Rose never wanted him to stop. If this was what it was like to be ruined, body and soul alike, then she never wanted to be whole again.

"Fuck, you're so tight, so warm, so perfect," he muttered, ramming so deep into her for a second she stopped existing, lost in a dazed bliss. She shut her eyes and clenched around him, and the next moment he was scooping her up in his arms effortlessly, like she was a doll for him to manhandle, pulling her into his lap, strong hands splayed on her back, bodies glued together.

With a weak whine Rose clawed at his shoulders, holding onto him as he wrapped one arm around her waist to guide her movements, lifting her up and down on his cock, slow and tender at first, then unforgivingly fast.

"Just for you, mon chéri," she whispered, nibbling at his earlobe, eager hands roaming over his chest, loving the way his skin gave away under her touch, feeling each hollow and curve, loving the way the plane of his abs tensed whenever he thrust up into her. "You fill me up so well, Thomas. You fit me just right, like you were made just for me."

"Yours," he groaned, the possessive edge in his voice turning it into a growl. "As much as you're mine." He slid into her even deeper than before, and Rose met him halfway by raising her hips and dropping back down, clenching around him so she could hear him grunt and curse again. Thomas' hands bruised on her hips from how tightly he was keeping her in place, thrusting up to meet her every time she fell back down.

"Then make me come, big boy," she murmured right into his ear, knowing exactly what this would do to him and relishing in the way his cock throbbed inside her, thick and long and deliciously hot, languid fire burning her up from inside out. "Mark me as yours."

The grunt Thomas let out was wild and primitive, making Rose bury her face in the crook of his neck as he guided her up and down, matching the rise and fall of her hips as fast and rough as he could. Lightly, he brushed his lips over her chest, grazed one of her nipples with his teeth, pinched the other one meanly, rolling the sensitive nub around his calloused fingers. He was teasing her, so the next time he slid his lips over one of her breasts and leaned away Rose grasped his hair, bringing his mouth back to where it should be. She felt him smirk against her, mouthing at her breast entirely, sucking at the areola as Rose arched her back, rising and falling from his cock in perfect sync with his harsh thrusts, their rhythm fast and hard at first and then slow and sensual.

This is more than sex, she thought at some point. It feels like the transcendence of it, like making love at its purest, rawest form.

She never wanted it to stop; now that Thomas had been inside her she hated the thought of being empty without him. She had never felt so full, so whole.

"So close," she moaned, and the next second he was pounding into a spot inside her that made her see stars. She could taste the precipice on her tongue, the sweetness of the fall. L'appel du vide, she thought hazily, the call of the void, the reckless but sudden impulse one has to hurl themselves into a void, to jump or fall from a high place. This was it. She wanted to reach the edge and fall, and keeping falling without ever reaching the end. "Fuck, right there. Don't stop, Thomas, please, just don't stop..."

"So you can beg, eh?" He pulled back from her chest to smirk at her and she shut him up with a fierce kiss, nipping at his lower lip before sucking at his tongue until his hands on her were trembling and he was panting into her. He gathered himself quickly, though, and he was rough like she wanted him to, driving them both dangerously close to the edge, her name on the tip of his tongue like the first prayer he'd ever said, like the last he ever would. Rose got there first, gasping out his name and clenching tightly around him, which was enough for Thomas to follow right after, pulling out just in time to spill all over her face and chest, painting her flushed skin white. She licked her lips clean and he traced the slow movement of her tongue with a thumb before clutching her neck and sealing their mouths together, the way their souls were: messily entwined and ragged at the edges, but fitting together like the sky fits the sea.

Every kiss of theirs was the horizon, every touch beyond.

Later that night, when it was practically dawn and they were both cleaned up and cuddling together in his bed, she whispered to him in French, her lips and the shadows singing along in his ears, telling him all the things he wanted to hear but wouldn't understand, all the things he understood but could never hear, whispered to him in French in the drowsy silence of the night until the stars seemed to speak to him as much as they shined in her emerald eyes.

In the morning, Rose didn't repent. Instead, she kissed the devil and made love to him again, until his crooked horns formed a heavenly halo around her and his poison-sweet words tasted like nectar of the gods to her.

She would spend the rest of her life next to the devil, after all, so she had a lifetime of mornings to repent anyway.

For now, she'd keep sinning, especially when the devil was holding her close and smiling at her like this, blue eyes warm as summer, lips pink as a rose that loves both her petals and her thorns.

author's note.

so... that happened 😳 FINALLY!!! I hinted so much at it throughout the last chapters, I mean Polly basically predicted it, but I'm still curious if you were surprised or not! this story's main theme has always been about Rose overcoming the pain in her past and opening herself up to love again so that's why her admitting her feelings for Tommy and feeling completely comfortable with them took so long, but it was a huge step for her to move on and heal. and like Polly said, Rose had been dying to sleep with Thomas just as much as he had, she just hid it better 😅

I tried to make their sex scene as a push and pull in which both of them were trying to be in charge since they're both leaders not used to following anyone so I hope that came across right! I hope you enjoyed all that smut 🤭 don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts <3

there's only one more chapter left after this + the epilogue so I'll see you then ;)