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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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'..."

"Homer...I..."

Drake cannot even form words as his pleasure overtakes him and he comes inside his lover, complete and safe in the knowledge that this moment belongs to them alone.

Jackson can't hold back once he feels Bennet release inside him, following suit with a loud cry of passion.

Drake holds onto his lover, trying to catch his breath and reluctant to move even an inch away from Homer.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"Love you too," Jackson echoes, slowly disentangling himself from his lover and lying back on the bed. As the immediate pleasure of their love-making fades, his leg reasserts itself with violent throbs of pain.

Possibly he's overexerted himself a little.

Drake leans over Jackson, concern all over his face.

"You're in pain," he says, angry with himself for putting his own pleasure before his lover's health.

"I've been in pain for weeks, darlin'," Jackson shakes it off, reaching up to pull Drake down next to him.

"But that was the best medicine of them all."

Drake carefully kneads at the shredded muscle of Homer's thigh, the way this whole thing started out, and lies down beside him.

"Can I fetch you something for it?"

"Nothin' you'd let me take," Jackson points out, throwing an arm around Drake's shoulders and giving his cheek a tired, sloppy kiss. A bottle of laudanum would top off the perfect evening, but he is stronger than that. He can suffer the pain to keep his promises.

Drake tilts his head to kiss Homer's lips.

"I was thinking of fetching a hot compress," he said. "I know you wouldn't take...the other."

Jackson is happy in his embrace with his lover, warm and sated and mostly comfortable. The thought of Drake leaving him, even if only for a moment, is not an appealing one.

But a hot compress does sound close to heavenly, and his leg does pain him still. With a final kiss, he lets Drake go.

"That would be... welcome."

Drake kisses his lover, a brief parting gesture, before cleaning himself up and dressing in his casuals.

He ventures downstairs to see if Mrs Ramsay's coals are still hot enough for a compress. He is met with a gimlet-eyed stare.

"Well, no wonder his leg is hurting!" she scolded. "You shouldn't be indulging yourself with him in that condition. Run along with you - I will fetch the doctor his medicine without your fussing."

Drake returns to their room, scarlet and mortified.

Jackson has not made an attempt to move in the time Drake's been away, still lying as naked as the day he was born, sprawled out across their bed.

"What's gotten into you?" He asks as he sees the colour his lover has turned, quirking an amused eyebrow.

Drake just shakes his head, increasingly beetroot, and finds a blanket to protect his lover's modesty.

He is closely followed by Mrs Ramsay and her knowing looks.

Jackson is glad for the blanket as Mrs Ramsay appears, unannounced, self-consciously smoothing the material over his lap to make sure nothing's on show that shouldn't be.

"There now," Mrs Ramsay prattles on as she brings him the compress, pressing it into his hands. "Use that for your leg, dearie, it'll help the ache. And you tell your sergeant when he's hurting, you're such a delicate little thing."

She leaves the doctor every bit as red as his lover.

Drake regains a little of his composure as she shuts the door.

"How's my delicate little thing now?"

"You can shut the hell up," Jackson grumbles, still blushing from ear to ear as he warms his aching leg.

"Nothin' delicate about me."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject