The air reeked of sex, whiskey and smoke. The staggering scent of lust and desire melding with the indisputable smell of sin and regret. Penetrating the atmosphere and every breath you shallowly inhaled, permeating the oxygen in your lungs until it was nearly as tainted as the smog that consumed the streets of Small Heath. The ceiling above you danced only with the illuminated shadows cast by the candlelight, a single swaying flame irradiating the small confines of the bedroom in a citrine hue. One sharper than the beam of a rising sun but falling just short, as the heat of it's glow could only be seen and not felt, it's presence dwindling before ever having the chance to seep into your bare flesh.

Perhaps, the glow of the flickering flame, was only there to shed an unforgiving and saturated light upon the mistakes and regret that tarnished the very sheets wrapped loosely around your body. As though with it's pale orange beam, your lust fueled actions appeared evident upon the ivory of your linens as if they were crimson as blood or black as ash.

The air was thick, humid and dense with the heat of two bodies expelling spent breaths and sweat that trailed along the stench of sex, permeating the tight four walls. As you lay flat on your back, staring nowhere but up at the ceiling above you, as your fingers clutched to the thin ivory sheets coiled around your naked frame. They were futile in their efforts to conceal your body from the man who lay beside you, in the very same form, as only minutes ago his eyes had swept over every inch of your flesh as though through his very sight he might just manage to mark it as his own.

It was instinct, perhaps, as you extracted your limbs from each other's and rolled to your sides of the warm mattress, that your fingers instantly clambered for a hold of the bedsheets. Pulling them over your exposed frame, until your modesty returned with the protection of a mere piece of cloth. The man beside you however, remained bare to the humid air that swirled around him. Only the remnants of your sheets falling across his lower abdomen, covering his manhood, while his bare chest and the dangerous v dipping down from his muscles, disappearing into the bunch of loose fabric, remained bare to your sight.

Thomas Shelby's presence was unequivocal, for even as you rested, with a battling sensation of sated and regret, in your own bed, it felt as though you were just a mere visitor. That it was you who would soon gather your strewn clothes from the floorboards, dressing in a rush as his eyes remained on your body as you did so, only to slip out the door and back into the night. Tommy had always had that way about him, making the world appear as though everything in it was up for the taking by his hand, that at the end of the day, there was nothing that he couldn't have if he so desired to want it.

Tommy shifts beside you, feeling as the mattress dips as his arm reaches over towards the small dresser beside the bed, his fingers sliding over his silver case and pulls it along with his lighter down upon his bare chest. Your head refrains from turning to watch him, but your eyes peer through your peripheral at his movements. Listing to the distinct click of his smooth silver case, popping open as he slides a single cigarette from it's enclosure before clasping it shut again.

Your eyes observe him as he brings the cigarette to his lips, for Tommy had a quirk you'd only ever witnessed from him, watching as he ran the edge of his smoke along his plump bottom lip back and forth a couple times before finally letting it hang between them. His hands lifting with the lighter as a sharp flash of orange brightens his softly shadowed face for a split second, the extent of the glow hurting your eyes until it extinguishes as a strong puff of trailing ashen smoke swirls in it's place.

You'd never cared for the scent of tobacco, but there was something about watching Tommy smoke and smelling it in the air that he shared and lingering against the warmth of his flesh, that made you crave the habit without having tried a single drag. For you knew, you'd never be able to wash the scent from your sheets. Never scrub it from the surrounding walls or even expel the traces of his smoke from your lungs. But perhaps, there was a part of yourself deep down, that had no intention of doing so.

For along with the pungent fumes of cigarette smoke, remained the clear and alluring scent of Thomas Shelby. The masculine notes of bergamot and leather mixing with an indistinguishable spice from his cologne, that seeped into the very threads of your bedsheets. The softer scent of soap, something crisp to break through the heady nature of his skin's natural aroma and beyond the grasps of your linens and the surrounding walls, the taste of him lingered right alongside. For your tongue still tingled with his presence, the enticing burn of whiskey that had since eased as the taste of it's richness met your kiss. Still lingering against your taste buds with the staggering chill of peppermint right alongside Tommy's usual Irish whiskey taste. The taste of him burned against the delicate flesh of your lips, almost as harshly as your body still burned with the memory of his not long lost touch.

The smoke of his cigarette burned in the air, trailing in thin streaks of grey that danced and twirled their presence across your eyesight, traveling through the atmosphere until it replaced the oxygen soaring into your expanding lungs. The bedroom was quiet, eerily so, as though the walls that encompassed your sated body whispered with soft taunts and infuriating truths that pierced your conscious.

For the night had engulfed the cobblestone pavement outside your window, the sky void of stars that might lend a twinkle of light amidst the dense smog and cloud coverage, but just as the sliver of moonlight, they were nowhere to be found. Leaving the chilled Birmingham night to be immersed in an all-consuming darkness, that had the profound strength to very well permeate your bones, until your soul could nearly feel it's daunting presence of overwhelming shadows. The only sound that echoed within the walls that peeled with their old and worn wallpaper, was the soft exhale of Tommy's fluttering breaths and the thundering race of your anxious heart beat.

The quiet that felt impenetrable, as though it might just last as long as the dense night, was shaken by the faintest creak of the bedsprings. A creak that appeared louder than it truly was, as Tommy's bare frame shifted beside you and only as you could feel the warmth that radiated from his exposed flesh slowly begin to fade, your head carefully turned to the side.

Flattening your cheek against the linen of your pillowcase that was now tainted with the scent of his cologne, your eyes watched silently as Tommy pulled himself into a sitting position. The thin ivory sheet once sprawled across his manhood pulling away, as his legs swung over the edge of the mattress, bare feet pressing against the cool touch of the floorboards awaiting him. Tommy didn't stand however, instead he simply sat where he had pulled himself up, back slouched as his left hand grasped the side of the mattress in a firm fist. He was utterly still, as his legs moved not a single centimeter as his head tilted down ever so faintly, as his eyes must've found the sight of his feet to stare aimlessly upon.

The cast of the candlelight illuminated his stance, projecting his shadow against the floorboards and you watched as the trails of deeply exhaled smoke twirled its way in front of his face, eventually circling behind him before dissipating entirely. You weren't sure why Tommy appeared frozen, as though the hand of winter had reached down and turned him to the ice that would soon pave the cobblestone. For he had long ago caught his breath, his chest having fallen back to his easy and calming rhythm. He couldn't stay the night you knew up front, business having no care to the early hours of the following day, so you knew that he didn't sit up awaiting to linger in your bed until the break of dawn. But as you watched him, the steady breaths lifting his shoulders up and down, you wondered if perhaps the same guilt that ate away at you, had found Tommy as well. The man who hadn't a clue to the word regret, perhaps, discovering it's sensation for the very first time.

You swallowed a nervous breath as you watched Tommy bend forward slowly, reaching for his loose ivory boxers. The first motion he'd made for what seemed like longer than a span of only a few mere minutes, eyes following as he pushes himself up from the edge of the bed to slide the thin fabric up his legs. The dim orange hue warming his toned physique, as the low light nearly seemed to accentuate the sight of Thomas in his naked form. But soon, he wore more modesty than you, before retuning back down upon the side of the mattress, dipping back down beneath the weight of his strong stance.

Clutching the ivory sheets to your chest, fingers curling into the soft and boarding on sheer fabric, you slowly began to inch yourself upwards. Gliding your bare legs along the rumpled sheets, until your back rested against the cushion of your pillow and the cold nature of the wall behind you. Tendrils, messed and tangled from Tommy's grasp and the friction against the sheets, cascaded down the side of your shoulder, as you regarded Tommy's tense frame. Nearly able to see the rigid tightening of the muscles that glided up and down his back, watching as his right hand plucked the burning cigarette from between his lips with his thumb and middle finger, before resting his wrist down upon his bare thigh.

You weren't sure what caused the surge of sudden bravery, if it were merely the exhaustion that clung to your bones and clouded your inhibitions, or perhaps, it was simply a question that needed to be asked and begged to be answered, knowing you might never rest until it was. Either way, your voice punctured the air like a bullet hurdling through the atmosphere, words landing against Tommy's sense of sound just like the metal casing tearing through flesh.

"What are we doing here Thomas?" Even as your breath fell lifeless in a puff of meek and timid air, you found the courage to inquire the single thing that forced itself across your thoughts each and every time Tommy warmed your bed.

For you always fell back to this place, to this bed, to each other's arms. It was an addiction, strong and unconquerable. For you craved him as though his touch, the taste of his lips and the unmistakable burn of his presence was snow coating your veins. Somedays, feeling like the yearn that flared within your being, was more potent than any cocaine you could ever be offered, stronger than any liquor that could trickle down your throat. For you found in this life, that perhaps the most powerful vice was simply Thomas Shelby himself. The sole high that left you warm and free, the single taste that could undoubtfully quench your thirst. But like any addiction, you knew without a shred of naivety, that it was slowly ruining you.

Your eyes hadn't departed from their steady cast upon Tommy's tense back, the muscles tightening and loosening with each deep breath that expanded through his chest, his spine accentuated by the shadows from the low flickering candlelight. He hadn't made a single effort to turn and face you, perhaps having no desire, or maybe, he simply avoided witnessing the emotion certain to be swaying in your orbs should he turn to look.

Time passed by in seconds that turned to minutes, each feeling far longer than the hands of his pocket watch ticked, as your vulnerable words hung in the air as though they had become stuck in the humidity that permeated the bedroom. Tommy shifted forwards after a moment, watching from behind as he placed his burning cigarette securely between his full lips, before rubbing his fingers across his eyes. A stern, exasperated motion you'd witnessed a few times in the past from the man occupying your bed. Feeling as his hands dropped back down, palms hitting the edge of the mattress causing it to jostle ever so softly, as a deep exhale and cloud of ashen smoke expelled into the air in front of his blindingly blue eyes.

"I don't know," Tommy's right hand lifted only to pluck the cigarette from his lips, his words floating along the trail of smoke that enveloped your senses. His tone unwavering and calm, for you had yet to witness a moment when Tommy's demeanor was any less than composed and steady, but the exhaustion and exasperation that matched your own was evident in the cloud of his softly exhaled response. "don't fucking know."

You fought the urge to reach your hands out, wrap them around his shoulders and simply pull him back into the bed. Oh, how you wished you could simply entangle yourself within Tommy's strong limbs, feeling the heat of his body radiate until it warmed you to your very core. The addiction of his touch burning like a wildfire along the bareness of your flesh, that had danced with the sensation of his fingertips not even an hour before. The tingle on your lips sparking wildly, as they screamed to descend upon Tommy's once again, allowing for his to capture and take control of your kiss without a single ounce of objection to it.

You wanted to rid yourself of the ivory sheets covering you and replace it with the blanket of his bare body, you wanted your endless thoughts and swirls of emotions to be cast aside as ecstasy and lust engulfed your head. You wanted to feel Tommy, to feel his hands caress you tenderly, all the while, moving with your own motions as though he was a wild man. Most of all, in that moment as you watched Tommy's back straighten and a deep inhale extend through his lungs, you wanted nothing more than to simply feel close to him.

Tommy could've gone to Lizzie Stark, paid the sum she was rightfully due for her services, but he came to you. Night after night, without a pound in his pocket or a disparaging notion in his head. Tommy sought you out, shared your bed and perhaps, it was for the very same reason why you found yourself letting him. The very same reason why you found yourself falling back effortlessly into his arms time after time. There was something unattainable, something that felt as if you had managed to discover an oasis all your own, one that you knew by morning light would surely fade and you'd be left with the reality of the situation for what it truly was. But for a night, there was something about escaping into a life you knew you could never have, that was too tempting, too alluring, too easy.

You knew you could never be with him, not in the way you'd always dreamed. And Tommy knew, as much as you did, that you did not deserve to be loved by a man like him.

You'd fucked and you'd made love. You'd held him and been held yourself. But you found yourself standing amidst an abyss. A cross roads where neither party knew where to turn, what was to come if you continued to venture down or simply turn around. But you both knew one thing for certain, something as clear as the tumbler that held Tommy's amber whiskey. That there was impassable ground that you could not cross together.

The first tear to fall from your eye, startled you. As it descended upon your cheek without warning, dripping from your lash line and gliding down your flesh with a burn that resembled the flame flickering at your bedside. It was a single teardrop, gentle appearing yet vicious in the way it ate away at your flesh like acid on it's way down your face. You could feel the gathering of others, glistening over your sight until a strong sheen glimmered in the low citrine light, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they fell, one after another, until your face was flooded like the streets after a rainstorm.

Pressing your lips together with a harsh burst of pressure, as though it might just be enough to keep the other tears at bay or perhaps, force the emotion building like suffocating lumps in the base of your throat away from the words climbing towards your the tip of your tongue. You wanted to look away from Tommy in that moment, as he finished up his cigarette in the dense and overwhelming silence, but you found even as your eyes overflowed and the pain of your thoughts became too great, that you had to look at him. You had to face him when you finally spoke the words that had loomed over your entanglement ever since it first began.

Your throat felt tight, as if it were doing all it could to restrain the words and keep them captive within yourself, but with a shallow breath, your lips parted and you whispered into the void. "I cannot," You paused as soon as your broken voice punctured the air, stopping only as the lump threatened to consume your words. And a part of your conscious that knew the words needed to be spoken aloud, unearthed a better word instead. "I will not be your whore."

Although Tommy had never once treated you as such, you couldn't help but wonder if that was all that you were, a whore. A woman who would surely strip off her clothing and the mere shred of her dignity when the beautiful man came calling. The only thing separating you and the whores that walked Small Heath's streets, was that you asked for no compensation in return for your time, for your deed. You willingly offered up your body, gave it away as soon as his lips parted with the mere notion, selling yourself to the man with icy blue eyes. As much as you craved him, as much as you wished to believe that you loved him, you realized that you could not be his whore, no matter how much he begged to tell you that you were not. You knew what you were, you could feel it in your soul the very second he expelled the evidence of himself into your intimate embrace.

Tommy remained still on the bed, even as your croak entered the air and settled upon his ears. Making no effort to turn and face you, as your scrutiny continued to burn against his bare back, tracing over the strong curve of his spine, straightening as he lifted from his slightly slouched stance. A single trickle of dark smoke trailed from his parted lips before his head turned ever so faintly to the side, as though to peer over his shoulder and yet, his eyes did not dare lift to find your frame in his peripheral.

"And I cannot be your husband."

For Tommy knew it was what you desired in this lifetime and the one thing he knew he could never be.

Tommy's cigarette dwindled just as the flame of the burning candle ate away at the wax, until it was nearly a stub barely illuminating the pale walls. He found his clothing in the solemn cloak of darkness, a futile streak of citrine still determined to glow, his only guiding light as you watched with silently tearful eyes as he slipped on his suit. The very suit your fingers had helped discard in the hours before, stripping him of every ounce of fabric as his own did the same to you, casting aside your garments without a single care for where they landed upon your bedroom floor.

There was something depressing, something that you could feel in the very depths of your bones, about watching Tommy dress in your bedroom for what you knew to be the last time. The truth that you both had managed to avoid this long, had finally been broached and with it, came the conclusion you both had expected and knew was always meant to be.

You went cold turkey that night, watching as your addiction exited your bedroom door without a single glance back. Your body continued to burn throughout the remainder of the night, up until the very first beam of morning broke through the hazy Birmingham atmosphere, tingling and soaring with the memories of his touch and the taste lingering against your lips. The scent of him left along the stitching of your sheets, assaulting your senses over and over again with the agonizing recollection of his company.

But it was better this way, you forced yourself to believe as you knew come the fall of the next night, you were sure to wish for his presence to pass through those doors once more, knowing that he was never to show again. For there was no future where your paths aligned, this fantasy world you had concocted in the depths of nighttime shadows and vulnerable late hours, was simply that. You had stood together upon an impassable ground, you couldn't walk it together and so, you gave each other away to endeavor to walk it alone.

A/N: This one is a shorter one and is for sure angsty af, but I kind of love it!❤

I've had this idea for quite sometime, having first started with the last two lines of dialogue, but was waiting to write until I could form a plot around them and then it hit me one day. This piece was always meant to be angsty, but I really loved being able to entwine tones of sensuality and lust and that physical aspect into this piece. I think that they really work hand in hand, lending more emotion and vivid imagery to the one shot and I can only hope that you all enjoyed this one! I am very happy with how it turned out and what I was able to write here!❤