thirstforvice | Ripper Street/Escape to the Suburbs

Entry tags:

verse: safe hands

Ripper Street/Escape to the Suburbs

When Drake is cleared to go back to work, Jackson's sense of unease grows tenfold. He's been anxious ever since returning to their room in Whitechapel, very aware that the Vigilance Men are down but not out, and very aware of where they live. But there's always been the two of them, together, with multiple locked doors between them and the outside world. Now, he's alone, mobility still hugely limited by his broken leg, and Drake's alone on the streets where he can't keep him close.

The worries would have driven him to distraction, or drugs, if not for Mrs Ramsay.

Their landlady truly was a godsend, more than happy to care for her invalid tenant, completely unphased in the knowledge of what he and Drake got up to behind closed doors. She was gifted at tending to his healing injuries, and she was very happy to both prattle on to him and listen in turn. She doesn't judge him nor take offence, either, when he admits to feeling unsafe in her lodgings. Quite the contrary, she offers to find him and Drake some place safer. Whilst he doesn't like being left alone, he appreciates the offer too much to turn her down.

It only takes her a few days before she finds somewhere she thinks would be perfect. As she lays out supper for her favourite doctor and his sergeant, she tells him all about the house in the suburbs. It's close to one of those new underground rail stations, she tells him, making the journey into the city easy despite the distance. It's large but affordable, on a combined wage of a sergeant and police physician. The neighbourhood is respectable, and safe. And, she can't help but slipping in, plenty of spare space for a housekeeper, should they choose to take one (which, really, she feels they should. Did they even know how to cook their meals?).

Her enthusiasm is really highly infectious.

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"I can be as lewd as you want, darlin'," Jackson groans, hands moving to hold Bennet close to him, clutching at his broad back.

"But you get that plenty outside of the bedroom already. Figure things should be different, away from prying eyes."

"You have a topsy-turvy way of thinking," Drake says, but his eyes darken at the lustful flush over Homer's bare skin.

"I'd prefer you to be a gentleman on the street, and a wildcat in bed."

"You gotta look some place else if you're after a gentleman, Benny," Jackson grins, carefully starting to roll them so that he can lie on his back with Bennet over him.

"I've never been one of them."

Drake puts a stop to Jackson's attempt to assert his authority.

"I thought I told you to lie still," he scolds, holding his lover firmly in place. "Will you let me take care of you, now?"

Jackson huffs, frustrated. Love-making is just not the same when they - or, rather, he - cannot move as he will.

"It seems you're giving me little choice in the matter, Bennet."

"Let me do the thinking for a change," Drake says, trying to keep the mood light and distract Homer from his predicament.

He dips his fingers in the jar of oil precariously balanced on their sheets and traces a line up between Homer's exposed buttocks. "I think you'll come round to my way of doing things."

Jackson still feels awkward with the way he's being held against Drake, not all that comfortable, much happier on his back, or up on his knees. But neither are practical right now, and the way Bennet's fingers trail over his backside do a good job of distracting him from his frustrations.

Drake latches on to the soft skin of Homer's neck, intending to leave a mark, as his first finger gently traces his lover's entrance. It has been far too long since they made love and the last thing he wants is to add to his pain.

The combination of the pressure at his throat, and the press inside of him, is enough for Jackson to momentarily forget his own frustrations. Moaning, loudly, his fingers tighten where they hold onto Drake's arm and shoulder.

Drake slowly presses his finger inside, keeping up the steady addition of kisses and marks across Homer's throat.

"You all right?"

"Fine..." Jackson groans, moving his hips as best he can to try and press himself further onto Drake's finger.

"More, Bennet... please, more..."

Drake inserts his finger up to the knuckle and feels for the raised nub there.

"Patience," he says, half-counsel, half-tease.

"Screw your damned patience," Jackson growls, words turning into a loud yell of pleasure when Drake's fingertip finds something magical inside of him.

"Holy... darlin', you're a fast learner," he gasps when he can next form a sentence.

Drake really should be more concerned about their fellow lodgers but, to Hell with it - they're moving out after all.

"You gonna cause a rumpus on our nice suburban street?" he breathes against Homer's ear, slowly withdrawing his finger.

Whining as Drake pulls free, Jackson tries to press back, feeling bereft and empty.

"Mrs. Ramsay says it's detached. We can scream all we like, darlin', 'nd no-one'll be the wiser."

Drake dips two fingers in the oil and begins his slow press once more.

"Save for our nosy landlady," Drake says, before deciding he doesn't want to talk about Mrs Ramsay.

"I want you to scream now."

Jackson does not need to be told twice, obliging as soon as he feels that additional stretch of Drake's second finger. Even without encouragement, he would have been noisy. He does not know how to be anything but.

Jackson's vocal pressure drives him, and Drake increases the pace, fingers sliding all the way inside and seeking out that pleasure point again.

"I want you," he says, his voice trembling.

"Take me then, God, Ben, please..." Jackson thrashes wildly against Bennet's fingers, mindless of the pain in his leg. He would suffer anything, right now, to have his lover fully inside of him.

For all that he wants to take care of Homer, Drake is desperate for him, his cock hard just from teasing his lover.

"Yes...fuck, yes..."

He reaches between them to slick himself up, and then he shifts his hips to press his cock to Homer's entrance. The position is awkward, but he is past caring about that.

It takes all his self-restraint to push inside slowly.

Drake's speed matters little to Jackson, hollering as though he's pressed inside as hard and fast as physically possible. He wraps himself around his lover as best he can, though his mending leg hangs mostly useless over Drake's hip.

"Take me," he begs again, desperate after so long unable to do this.

Drake is only sheathed inside a moment, before he complies, bruising grip on Homer's hips as he fucks him with short, sharp thrusts.

"Scream as if we own the street."

Drake's grip on him is painful, and Jackson can just imagine the bruises that will be there come morning. That thought just arouses him further, and he requires no direction to make his pleasure known as loudly as his lungs allow.

It has been too long since their last union and Drake feels his pleasure mounting fast, as sudden as the first time.

He reaches between them and takes Homer's cock in hand, jerking him off in time to his thrusts.

"God, Ben..." Jackson moans and digs his short fingernails into Drake's back, totally reliant on his lover's ministrations thanks to his injuries and the position they've found for themselves.

"N-not gonna last, darlin'..."

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