The Salt and Shelby kids all grew up together on the mean streets of Small Heath, raising hell since 1897. Their fathers founded the infamous Peaky Blinders gang, but as the next generation is geared up to overtake the business, they will face chal...
"with tears in my eyes i begged you to stay, you said, hey man i love you but no fucking way" —— twin sized matress, the front bottoms
Iris' eyes flickered open to see her mother's dingey back bedroom. Confusion wracked her mind as she took in her surroundings. She couldn't remember how she wound up there.
She pulled the duvet from herself and threw her legs over the side of the bed, groaning at the sting which erupted from her thigh as she did so. The sight of a thick white bandage on her leg made her freeze. Suddenly the memories of last night flooded to Iris' mind like a riptide. Ed's death. Being shot. Tommy's beating. John's words about how she'd never stay out of Birmingham. The wound on her thigh was screaming in pain, as was the one on her arm. But Iris ignored them as she limped out of her room in search of Thomas. She had to make sure he was okay.
Thomas' head snapped towards the door as Iris burst from it, wearing nothing but a bandage and a man's undershirt.
Her anxious expression softened as she laid eyes on his bruised face. "You're okay?"
"I'm okay." He confirmed with a nod.
Iris' swollen lips curled into a slight smile. "Good."
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The pair of them stared at each other from across the room, an awkward silence settling as they examined each other's battered and bloodied selves. Neither of them knew what to say after so much time apart and their grazes with death last night.
After a few moments, Tommy stood up from the couch and approached Iris, who was leaning against the door-frame in order to keep the weight off her injured leg. "That sore?"
"Yeah. A bit."
Thomas nodded as he reached her. He let a hand drop from the back of his head to his side, letting it brush against her exposed leg gently as it fell. "And your arm?"
"Painful. I'll live though." She said, glancing at the spot of skin his hand had just skimmed across.
He dragged an index finger across her uninjured arm absent-mindedly, letting it paint invisible swirls and shapes. Iris could feel herself slipping into the depths of desire as his hand danced across her goose-bumped skin. Within seconds, the lust became too much and she grabbed the end of his shirt, tugging him closer in an attempt to close the aching distance between their bodies.
