#oz cobblepot

MILK AND ROSES CH.6

ALSO ON AO3

Rating: Explicit (Violence, blowjobs and some feelings)

Word Count: 8.9k

Routine is a big thing for you. When your life begins to fall into a specific pattern you relish it, because you know how quickly it can go to shit. So, when the weeks begin to go by you notice yourself and Oz getting into a routine of sorts, as much as you can be in a routine with a criminal for a boyfriend. Whenever Oz has free time during the early or middle of the week; he treats you to a generous lunch during your break or, if you have the following day off, he brings you to the finest restaurants and bars in Gotham that you never would have expected to enter. He even drives you to work on a few occasions when he sleeps over. He begins to familiarise himself with your pathetic kitchenette and makes you a hearty breakfast before he chauffeurs you and takes himself to the Lounge. It’s an almost mockery of a ‘squeaky clean’ relationship.

Well, when you aren’t fucking the brains out of each other on every solid surface in your respective apartments.

You’re both in that fun, exciting stage of a relationship where there’s no worries or concern about anybody. God, it’s refreshing. But even with you being in the honeymoon phase, or whatever you want to dress it up as, neither of you smother each other. When Oz is working at the Lounge or for Falcone you have more than enough time for yourself and for your friends. You’d finally had the chance to meet up since getting with Oz and had to relive all the details for them in person. Texts simply were not enough. You were near giddy recounting it all, hoping in your head that Oz doesn’t mind but it’s not like you gave them his exact measurements? Or said about the whole making him jerk off while you shower event. Just general stuff is fine, right? You think Oz is too shy to talk about this kind of thing with the guys in the club, despite his rough exterior.

Even though you are both ‘together’, you notice Oz hasn’t lost much of his insecurity around you. He’s more willing to go topless around the apartment without being asked but gets uncomfortable when you go down on him. If you had kept a tally of the oral sex side of things, you’d look like a total pillow princess! It’s not for a lack of trying on your part, he just can’t seem to relax when you’re on your knees for him. It’s got to be an angle thing you think. You know you give great head and it gets slightly frustrating when you can’t reciprocate what he generously gives without question. He always either pulls you up to kiss him as distraction or just plainly begs you to stop before he finishes. You’re under no allusions that he’s got one good load in him per day, you tell him so outright and are more than happy for it to end down your throat but he’s not easily persuaded. It’s probably the only tension in the relationship so far you realise.

You hadn’t been with a guy that would try weasel his way out of a blowjob but then again you hadn’t dated a middle-aged heavyset gangster either. But you swore you’d wear him down eventually.

It’s Saturday afternoon when Oz drives you both into the heart of the city after spending the night before in bed. He mentioned something about needing to collect a new suit in the city’s oldest tailors and you jumped at the chance. If there was one thing you loved more than anything, it was doing errands with friends where there was no real plan in place. Plus, it would be fun to see Oz in a setting like that, what the hell had he picked for his latest addition to his wardrobe? He was surprised by your eagerness, presuming you’d rather stay in bed or watch tv while he went out.

The city isn’t as overcast as you drive through the streets, it’s beginning to warm up and you can barely see a hint of the sun past the haze of pollution. The memo of warmer weather didn’t seem to reach Oz however, still dressed in his leather trench straight out of a film noir. You’re not paying attention when you realise you’ve parked up in an alleyway, preoccupied with a voice message from one of your friends.

“Why’d you park here?” you ask as he’s halfway out of his seat. He glances back and shrugs before heaving himself out with both hands.

“I don’t pay parking, babe. Besides I know the guy who owns the building, owes me a favour or two” he answers vaguely, letting you know silently not to prod. You leave the cool air of the car and shut the door, noticing the way he fusses with his jacket collar. He walks around the front of the car and evaluates his parking before he locks it; unconsciously holding his arm out for you to link onto. The quiet of the alley is immediately broken as you turn the corner onto the street. You’re smack dab in the middle of the so called ‘fashion district’ of Gotham. It’s nearly always crowded with tourists or the city’s few influencers that haven’t quite made it enough to leave for greener pastures.

The unending row of department stores, long standing boutiques and refurbished ‘thrift’ stores are enough to make you question how much cash is spent in this one block alone. With Oz’s connections, he’s probably be able to tell you with near total accuracy. You inspect the ostentatious window displays as you walk together, slowly enough for his sake when you stop in your tracks. He nearly trips over when you stopped so suddenly, before he catches you gawking at the store front. He doesn’t interrupt you while you stand in awe, the latest designs from Gucci, Mugler and Vivienne Westwood holding your full attention.

“See anything you like?” he whispers in your ear, directly behind you now and watching.

You’re speechless, between the clothes in the window and his obvious physical reaction to you.

“They’re just beautiful” you reply quietly, eyes darting from mannequin to mannequin as he grins behind you.

“Think how beautiful they’d be on you?” he murmurs with a wide grin, turning his head slightly to see if he’s successfully talking you into entering the store. You’re suddenly snapped out of the trance of consumerism when you snort at his offer. You shake your head to dispel the thoughts he planted.

“There’s no way I’m buying any of that, besides we need to go get your clothes, remember?” you try to change the subject, a little uncomfortable of the attention. He sees right through you and places his hands on your hips to keep you where you are. Leaning close to your ear again, you see your reflections stare back when you focus your eyes.

“Come on, who said anything about you buying ‘em?”

“Ozzie, that’s too much”

You see his mirror image roll his own eyes before he fishes out his credit card again. He meets your eyes in the window and holds it under your chin. He’s relentless, you already know that too well. In the last few weeks he’s given you a couple grand easily, whenever you had to part ways. You did as he had asked, bought whatever you liked and had enough for rent or lunch with friends. Even with all that extra cash, if he saw you looking at an outfit online or anything at all he’d bring it with him on your next date. He once dropped three hundred on some brand-new headphones when you mentioned your earbuds took a second too long to pair up with your phone or computer.

“Just take it, and go inside. It won’t bite, sweetheart” he mumbles before he gives you the code, kisses your cheek and just like that he’s gone. You turn to protest again but he’s halfway across the street already, trench billowing a little in the summer breeze. Fucker can move when he wants to.

“What about the suit!” you shout over the traffic, getting a weird look from a passer-by.

He doesn’t even turn, but you see his smirk from across the street as he goes to enter the building.

You could kill him. You don’t have an excuse not to go in now. It would be bad manners to deny him. You turn over the card in your hands before slipping it into your jacket pocket as the doorman gives a practiced smile when he ushers you inside. The heavily perfumed air almost knocks you in the face as it circulates through the circular foyer. You’re severely underdressed to be in this place, you’re almost waiting for a tap on the shoulder and a whispered order to leave the premises. It never comes though. As much as you almost wish it would just to get out.

The worn rubber soles of your shoes squeak against the well-polished tiles of the store as you begin to meander around the rails and perfectly posed mannequins, not to mention the endlessly welcoming staff. You begin to pick through a few rails, spotting some decent designs. The credit card feels like it’s burning a hole in your pocket when you catch a glimpse at the price tag. You quickly move it back along the rail like you’d have to pay for just raking your eyes over the fabric.  

You attempt to find something reasonably priced but you remember Oz had told you to think of the money as your own. Well, that’s one thing when it’s a couple hundred in cash but another entirely when you’re given a limitless credit card and essentially told to go wild. You try to keep in mind that the more you spend the happier he’d be. It’s a little easier to pick up potential pieces with that knowledge. You soon lose track of time as you hold onto some rather pricey items, when a member of staff kindly offers to place them by the counter for you to collect. You’re taken aback by her sudden appearance at your side and are grateful they work on commission. The freer your hands the better! You’ve finally gotten into the right mindset when Oz sidles up you inspecting a Westwood purse under the artificial lights.

“That all you picked up?” he sounds almost disappointed. You give a shy smile in return before swinging it over your shoulder.

“Not a chance. The rest are waiting by, I should hardly have to carry them all, right?” you question as you inspect yourself in the floor length mirror. You almost miss the way his scarred cheek pulls up in a flash of a smile but pretend to be too preoccupied with your thoughts.

“That’s what I like to hear, babe” he murmurs to you, taking you in.

“Where’s the suit?” you ask as you turn back to face him, seeing the way he has to pull his eyes back up to your face to listen.

“They put it in the car for me. Didn’t want to interrupt you so soon, did I?”

“Definitely not, I’d only pick up more stuff in retaliation” you tell him as you begin to make your way to the staff member from before. She sees you coming and gives a nod as she heads behind the long marble counter.

Oz stands slightly behind you and you can see one of the other workers eye him suspiciously, he does look out of place to be fair. The pieces of clothing and accessories are all quickly scanned before being meticulously wrapped and bagged. You can see Oz slightly shift a little closer to you as he sees the total begin to rise dramatically when the employee compliments the items you chose. Nobody seems to bat an eyelid at the transaction but your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can literally feel Oz vibrate as he now stands directly behind you. It’s a totally innocuous scenario, one you’re sure they’ve seen a million times before. Old guy pays for his girl’s stuff but it feels exhilarating.

The employee modifies her tone accordingly when she gives you the total, and you try as hard as you can not to react in any visible way. Knowing that it’d drive the man behind you insane. You give a smile and your thanks when you place the metal card into the machine, feeling Oz slightly press himself against you as you begin to type in the code.

Jesus, he really is rock hard. Your cheeks are burning when the transaction is approved, and you go to take the numerous bags but Oz beats you to it. He makes a quick joke about just being there to do the heavy lifting with the employee before you begin to make your way back outside. You catch up to him and lean up on your toes to kiss his scarred face as you move out the door. He grins when you thank him, reminding you that you’re doing him the favour here.

The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins when you reach the car, you settle into your seat and anxiously wait for him to put the bags away. He finally sheds his trench coat before getting in the driver’s seat, bad leg first. Once he’s comfortable you’re on him, palming his obvious erection roughly. No wonder he took the bags you think. He jerks back into the seat in surprise at your touch, your lips already tracing the ragged scar that cuts into his full lips.

“What’s all this, huh?” he laughs a little nervously between deep kisses, but you don’t respond. You just kiss him deeper and start to unzip the dark trousers. You’ve gotten really into the whole financial domination thing, more-so than you anticipated and you wouldn’t lie by saying you weren’t extremely turned on right now. It’s an effort to get to his cock, the extremely high waisted trousers he prefers aren’t exactly easily accessible for quickies. You pull back from his mouth, panting already and he looks pretty dazed himself when you tuck loose hair behind your ear and lick your lips as you pump him in hand. He sees where this is going and you feel him tense, but not the way you want.

“Are you okay?” you ask hurriedly, still slowly stroking him to full length. He’s already leaking around your fingers. He swallows roughly and shakes his head rather than answer verbally. He looks embarrassed again. What is this all about? You release him and he quickly redresses his lower half. You give a heavy sigh as your heart starts to resume a steady beat. You need to hash this out now.

“Oz, do you not like it when I touch you?” you ask, trying not to sound hurt. You’ve never been told you’re a bad lay but it’s hard not to take it personally when he reacts like this. The filthy stuff he’s admitted to wanting to try in the heat of the moment seems entirely out of place when he won’t accept a simple blowjob in his sportscar. What middle aged guy wouldn’t dream of it?

You pick at your fingers as you speak, and he’s quick to reassure you.

“Of course, I do! I just, I don’t know…I’m not used to the attention, I guess. I’ve not exactly been swimming in pussy until now” he adds, hoping to get a rise out of you. And he does. A small smile graces your face when he says it.

“But I want to touch you. The same way you touch me. I think about it all the time, Ozzie” you confess. You’d spent many a time in work daydreaming about sucking him off. Completely ignoring your job to think about how deep you think you could take him down your throat if you really tried. The noises and sounds he makes when he’s on top of you, or behind are wonderful obviously but you wonder could you make Oz sound as needy when you blow him as when you fuck and choke him. He sucks in a breath and shakes his head, glancing out the side window at nothing in particular.

He’s picking at this ring again.

“You don’t have to say stuff like that” he mumbles as he rotates the jewellery round his wide finger.

“What? That I want to fuck you?”

He raises his brows in silent agreement, putting his head back on the plush headrest.

“Ozzie, I’m not just saying it to say it. You know that, right? I think you’re hot and I want to touch you” you turn to him now, trying to get through his thick skull. He doesn’t say anything. You’ve noticed he tends to shut down when he’s insecure. It’s sad that you’re so early in your relationship but you know that already.

“Look at me” you instruct softly, and he complies. His dark eyes light up from the afternoon sun reflecting through the alleyway, more a shade of honey than you’ve ever seen them.

“I wouldn’t be here with you if I wasn’t into you. All of you, okay?” you begin to say, and his eyes quickly break contact. Too embarrassed to focus on you. You grab his face then between your thumb and forefinger and say it again, commanding his full attention.

“And don’t worry, I’m not using you for your money” you whisper, and he gives a soft smile.

“Just your body” you clarify and he actually giggles at your shit joke. Suddenly he’s back to being your Ozzie again. He leans over to kiss you, one hand on your warm cheek before he sits back to start the car.

“I like the stuff you picked, by the way” he tells you as he pulls out of the alley and onto the street.

“Oh thanks, babe. Wouldn’t have made a difference if you hadn’t liked them though” you say casually, looking at his reaction in the corner of your eye as the buildings start to fly by.

“Didn’t think so!” he grins.

“You know, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come by the club tonight? What do you think?”

“Oh maybe! I thought you’d be too busy for me if I stopped by” you tease.

“Not a chance, doll. Besides…” he grabs onto your hand, linking fingers before he continues. “I wanna show you off” he says with a squeeze of his hand.

It’s not long until he drops you off at home. He offers to bring your stuff upstairs, but you don’t want to keep him. You know he needs to head for the Lounge, especially with the knowledge of your joining him he’s probably going to triple check the place over before you arrive. He eventually gives in, but gives a strong kiss to you before he leaves. He even offered to pick you up but you just say you’ll get a car out there as you wave his credit card around. He shakes his head again before he climbs back in the Maserati.

You don’t know where the hell you’ll put any of things you bought, you’re just glad you can wear most of it tonight and the rest can be a future you problem. There’s a hint of nerves in your stomach as you make yourself an early dinner. But the fact that Oz will be by your side the whole night is reassuring. If that weren’t enough to ease any anxieties, you know the second you ask Oz will drop you home. No pressure you tell yourself.

Having that safety net lets you enjoy getting ready for once. Taking your time and updating your friends via a group facetime. They all ooo and ahh at your clothes as you twirl in your cramped bedroom.

“Oh, I should have said this forever ago, but Oz said you’re all welcome whenever at the Lounge! He said it’s a thank you present to you all” you laugh as you’re saying it but they all cheer in almost perfect unison.

“WHY’D YOU TELL US THIS AFTER I MADE PLANS!” one of them shouts as she runs to get the next train. Her connection dips a bit as she heads underground but you hear the others agree in earnest.

“I forgot! Sue me!” you apologise and put your hands up in mock surrender but they all start to chime in.

“Leave her alone! Not her fault she’s gone cock dumb!”

“OH MY GODDDDD”

“Shut up! He’s the one that’s whipped!” you start to defend yourself, when you hear the phone buzz as a text from Oz comes in. You lean over to read it, and they all see your reaction as you grin goofily.

“WHAT DID HE SAY”

“It had better not be any foul shit, some of us are trying to eat here” another voice chimes in between bites of food.

“Nothing! He just said he can’t wait for me to come by” you say in mock offense.

“Oh, there is definite office fucking tonight. Hope he got those curtains!” one near cackles.

“I shouldn’t have told any of you that!” you shake your head as you pull on your shoes. God help Oz if he ever meets your friends in person. You grab the coat off the back of your door and pick up your phone as you start to head outside, the Uber driver sends a message that they’ve arrived and you quickly say bye to your friends in a chorus of goodbyes and good lucks! The car is silent in comparison to the last half hour of your day, and what you expect the next few will be like.

The traffic is pretty heavy but that’s what a weekend in Gotham calls for, and besides you’re not paying this fare. What should have taken fifteen minutes tops turns into over a half hour, so you’re grateful when you finally see the warehouse. Not so much when you see the queue around the block of excited socialites and pretenders. You send a quick text that you’ve arrived when you exit the car. He fires back for you to wait by the door and you pause. It feels like a real dickhead move to skip the whole line but what else are you going to do? You walk straight for the shutter door to the protest of those waiting. You get stopped by the bouncer before you get close, you recognise him from last time as he puts a hand up to stop you.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a monotone as he eyes you.

“I’m good, thanks. Just heading inside for Oz” you tell him but he just stares at you.

He starts to point for the back of the line when the door behind him opens.

“I hope you’re not turnin’ away my girl” Oz quickly barks at the bouncer, he almost jumps his skin at the sound of his boss. He obviously doesn’t come out here much and you try to hide the laugh bubbling up your throat. You just walk past him, as Oz holds the door open. You make a point to kiss him open mouthed as you pass by.

You just hear the poor guy behind you apologise to Oz when the door is already closed. He snakes his arm round your waist for a second until you reach coat check and gives a low whistle when you hand over your jacket. The guy behind the desk sees Oz with you and puts it in the reserved section, no fear of it going missing every again.

“I bet it looked good on the rack, baby but it looks better on yours” he says when you turn back to him, you burst out laughing at the lamest pick-up line you’ve ever heard but take his large hand regardless. It’s nice he’s in a good mood, it’s a good omen. He walks with you through the entrance and to the main floor, lights brighter than ever and music thrumming in your chest again. It’s weird how different it feels this time though. No nerves or panic attacks to be found in you.

A few young women you think you recognise from last time stop you both on their way outside for a smoke break.

“Oz, you brought her back!”

“So you’re the reason he’s been on his phone all these weeks! I thought he got hooked on fuckin’ candy crush or something!”

Oz laughs with them but you can tell he’s a little nervous about everyone meeting you. Good thing he doesn’t hear the stuff you tell your friends. You put a hand on his chest and join in.

“You better have some good gossip for us, Oz!”

“I don’t kiss and tell, ladies. Sorry to disappoint!” He calls as he begins to walk by, but you stop him in his tracks when you reply to them.

“That’s okay, I do!” you laugh and the girls nearly scream with excitement, Oz lets out another nervous laugh before dragging you away dramatically. You just wave bye to your new friends, who are sure to find you later you think. You give him another kiss on the cheek to perk him up, and he grins as he starts to guide you towards a large elevator. You hadn’t noticed it before you don’t think, but then again it’s hard to tell what’s décor and what’s actually functional in this old place. Oz sees you quirk a brow as he presses the heavy button, a loud thunk beginning as it begins to come up.

“Thought we’d go downstairs, that okay?”

“I didn’t even know you had a downstairs, but sure I’m happy wherever” you reply coolly and he squeezes you against his side just as the shutter door begins to open vertically.

It was obviously a shipment elevator way back when and leaves an enormous amount of space for the two of you. He traces small circles around your hips with his ring finger as it begins to descend. It doesn’t look or sound like it’s up to code whatsoever.

“It’s not for everyone, the lower level. Another club for those willing to pay for the finer things” he explains and you recall the men who had stopped by your first dinner together. He had said they were councillors and lawyers, makes sense. Definitely seedy stuff. You do your best to push it to the back of your mind when the elevator lurches to a graceless halt. There’s a few more security guys waiting by the door and when they see you with their boss they’re quick to look elsewhere.

There’s more than enough to see besides you two, the club floor is littered with people. You don’t think you’d seen the upstairs quite as cramped as it is. Huge groups huddled around tiny tables, knocking back drops or drinks or both. Everyone’s in business suits, well all the male patrons anyways. The girls are doing their bit to keep the peace when things get heated as they wait tables, or pretend to listen to another senator’s pitiful moping. You can see more than a few faces that have absolutely checked out after being told to sit down with these clowns, some uncomfortably close to their customers.

There’s a lot of eyes that fall on you from the tables as you head through to the main bar of the 44 Below, Oz clearly doesn’t bring just anyone down here to meet the big dogs. You recognise the greying curls of the slender man at the bar entertaining a few associates. You heart stutters a little, Oz is one thing. You can just about tolerate the things you 1. Know he’s done, 2. The things he still does and 3. Things he might have done but Carmine Falcone is a different story. Everybody knows him and what he got up to, not to mention that he’s essentially a hermit nowadays. Holed up at the top level of the club for his own good. There’s a lot of people in the city who’d pay big money to see him washed up along the Shoreline, and you’re sure plenty of them are here too. Money is money, right?

You press yourself a little tighter in Oz’s grip unconsciously, nerves rapidly seeping into your body and Oz noticed straight away. Another comforting squeeze at your side and you glance up at him to see his nod. The silent ‘you okay?’ does wonders and you nod back a little stronger. The crowd around Falcone spot you both and he turns to see what’s grabbed their attention away from his story.

“Oz! Thought you weren’t gonna show for a second there” he grins, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Well not that you can really tell from his dark shades. If you thought Oz looked out of place in a nightclub, Falcone was something else. The guy is in a dark cardigan for God’s sake. He looks like he should be in his country club in L.A, he looks like he fucking owns the place. He carries himself like it too.

Falcone’s shades reflect the club lights above when he turns his cool gaze to you and it makes your skin crawl. The people beside him finally seem to notice you too, trying to recall if they’d seen you here before.

“Who’s this lovely creature?” he croons, extending a tanned hand out to you. You offer your own quickly, but instead of a weird handshake with your boyfriend’s boss he bends his head to kiss your knuckles. It’s the exact same thing Oz had done with you, but you can’t believe the wildly different reaction you feel. You blurt out your name, hoping to get this over with. You want to rip your hand away and tell Oz you’re leaving but you just kind of freeze. When he finally releases your hand, you shirk it away a little too quickly. But he only revels in your obvious discomfort.

“Have I seen you here before, baby?” he asks but he already knows the answer, he’s standing just a little too close now.

“She doesn’t work here, Carmine” Oz interjects, and you see Falcone tear his eyes away to spare a glance at him – like he forgot he was even there.

“Oh! I see. You’re the little lovebird Oz has been hiding, huh?” he nods his head as he speaks and you feel the way Oz stiffens a little at the odd choice of pet name.

He brings his glass to his lips and you swear there’s a grin behind it at Oz’s expense. Oz is quick to introduce you to the others, all big leagues in Gotham. Some are bankers, officials and business owners but they’re all here for the same thing. The girls they’re with offer you a seat at the bar with them, while the guys talk business, or murder, or who knows what. You jump at the chance to get away from Falcone for a second, and Oz actually looks a little lost without you by his side while he gets your drink.

You chat with the others while you wait, they’re all lovely and chat to you in earnest about Oz. You tell them you’ve only been together a short time, but you’re having fun and they’re eager to tell you what he’s like at work now. Apparently, he’s been in a better mood the last month or so, and they put it down to you. You don’t know how to react to that but you won’t lie by saying it doesn’t make you feel a little giddy. Oz comes over with your drink at last, and gives a quick kiss to your cheek when you give your thanks. The others giggle into their own drinks and he turns his head back to the rather one-sided conversation with Falcone and his goons.

The evening goes by pretty quick from there, and you end up moving to a large table and sofa in the centre. Oz is standing at the end speaking to one of the bartenders about the next delivery that’s overdue and Falcone’s girl almost crawled over you to get to the bathroom – not before you noticed a few less drops on the table. The tall man skulks back to the table, two sets of drinks in hand and stands there for a second too long. You look up at him and he asks where she’s gone.

Literally.

“Where’s uh…she gone?”

He doesn’t even know her fucking name? Christ. You know for a fact Oz knows all the girls’ names, real names. He tells you about petty little ‘office’ drama he overhears from his room all the time, always mentioning names and details the average boss wouldn’t give a shit to know. Like this guy.

“Bathroom” you answer, ready to go back to ignoring him but he’s not as willing. He sets the drinks down a little too roughly, liquor pooling around the bottom and seeping into the lines and drops of the table. You’re just quick enough to yank your bag out of the way, its brand fucking new after all. It might be fun to make Oz buy you another one but not with Falcone involved, you’d rather not have it at all.

“Sorry, baby!” he croons again and gives that fucking smile that could haunt your dreams.

“It’s fine” you snap, placing it firmly by your side to show you’re not interested in anymore talk with the man.

“I’m sure Oz could fork out for another, hmm?” he sneers.

What the fuck did he just say?

“Sorry?” you question, and you realise you’re doing exactly what he wanted.

He bends down to speak directly in your ear, and you feel your skin try to recoil from his presence by way of goosebumps. But he’s probably thinking there’s another reason for it.

“You’re not the only girl ol’ Oz likes to spend his money on, sweetheart” he grins, and he’s already gone to leave you with that information. The hair on the back of your neck stands, and you feel flush from embarrassment. What the fuck.

You’re ready to call it a night after listening to that sneery old piece of shit. You’re glaring at him with glassy eyes across the table as he speaks with Oz. Like he didn’t just try ruin your evening. Or blow it up would be more accurate. You feel another presence at your side and are ready to take a swing when hot breath hits your ear, along with spittle.

“Hey, babe want some drops?” the voice slurs and you physically recoil and give a look of disgust. It’s some kid in a new suit, must be a young broker or something by the way he holds himself. Ready to throw money at life’s problems.

“Fuck off” you scoff incredulously, seeing Oz glance over at the sound of your voice. You could have said worse but decided to be a little nice, it is Ozzie’s club after all. Your new companion doesn’t seem to get the message though, leaning almost into your fucking hair to bark at you again.

“Don’t be such a cunt, I was doing you a favour”

“A fucking favour? Why don’t you do us all one and jump into the river” you spit in his face, beyond the point of niceties at this stage. It’s like a switch goes off in his brain, his blue eyes flash with rage and hand ready to go for your throat but he’s interrupted.

“The fuck is going on here?” Oz bellows, pulling the man around by the shoulder roughly so hard he’s ripped the shoulder seam of the suit. He seems to cower now, face to face with Oz as he pushes him back into the cool metal wall by the couch.

“I wasn’t-I was-” he’s starting to stutter now, taking in Oz’s countless face scars and realising who he’s talking to.

“YOU WEREN’T FUCKING WHAT?” He screams in his face, the guy against the wall looks like he’s trying to get as small as he can. Everyone at the table is watching now, and half the room has stopped what they’re doing do tune in. You’re agape watching this, your eyes dancing between the two of them. Oz cocks his head at you, the man still in his grip and now visibly shaking.

“Tell me what he said, sweetheart”

“He wanted me to do drops with him, I said no and he called me a cunt” you clarify. Beginning to enjoy this little show of dominance. You haven’t seen this side of Oz yet, but it’s cementing what you already knew but had yet to witness; that he’s a hardened criminal.

Oz turns back to his captive, a faux shocked look on his face at your words and you swear the guy is going to burst into tears.

“She’s lying, I swear I’d never say anything like that!”

“Now she’s a fuckin’ liar?!” and before you realise what’s happened, there’s a sickening crunch as his fist collides with the guy’s face. He drops to the floor, head smacked against the tiles with blood gushing from his nose. You felt yourself jump back in your seat, brain unable to process what you’ve witnessed. Your head shakes a little when you spot something on the cushion by your side. Your eyes take a few seconds to identify the bloody chipped front tooth and your mouth falls open again.

You hear Oz continuing to speak to the almost unconscious man on the floor, he picks him up by the hair and the broken skin of his knuckles start to seep into the once perfectly gelled blond locks. The man weakly tries to shirk out of his grip but it’s pointless and he’s starting to realise that. Oz shoves him against the couch in front of you.

“You’re going to fuckin’ apologise for what you did” he seethes into his ear and the man tries to raise his head to do so before being smacked by Oz’s free hand.

“DID I FUCKIN’ SAY YOU COULD LOOK AT HER?”

Another sob escapes the man, open tears beginning to mix with the blood on the lower half of his face. He adjusts his sight as much as he can, but you don’t think he could even see you. His eyes already swollen from tears and the most recent hit from Oz’s ringed hand. He makes an attempt at an apology but truthfully, you’re not paying attention to him.

You’re staring at Oz and the iron grip he has on the sorry excuse of a man, his face is in a deep grimace and the scars that litter his face are lit up by the never ending shift of light above. He feels your gaze and moves his own to meet it. They’re still heavily influenced by sheer rage but there’s a glint of shame at the realisation of what you’ve just seen. He drops his grip and the man falters against the couch before trying to scramble away from the scene, but it’s too late as he’s grabbed and dragged up by the twin bouncers.

“I see you in here again and I’ll cut out that fucking tongue of yours, pretty boy” he spits, his size domineering against the slighter man as he continues to shake. The two men holding him are equally stone faced, awaiting further instruction.

“Just get him out” he shakes his head, bloodied hand now fidgeting with his garnet ring.

The awkward silence of the room is almost overcompensated by the sounds of people resuming their Saturday night. Your eyes haven’t left Oz once during this ordeal, and you’re a little sickened with yourself for being turned on. Maybe he’s more of a bad influence than you expected.

“He ruffle your feathers, Oz?” Carmine lets out a laugh to break the tension at the table, some of the others laugh at a joke you’re not privy to. You see his fist begin to clench again absentmindedly, more blood beginning to drip down his thick fingers. Your eyes flick up to his face and he turns his head slightly, eyes not meeting your own. He spots the chipped tooth as well and he heaves a heavy sigh out his chest before he tries to get away as quickly as he can. Carmine calls for him again, but doesn’t make an effort to move.

You get to your feet as quick as you can, doing your level best not to slip on the blood being haphazardly cleaned with old rags from the bar. With everyone back to minding their business it’s not as easy to catch up with Oz, bodies and drinks making you take several twists and turns in the crowd as you watch him move with ease. You almost get knocked over by a guy trying to overexaggerate an unfunny story and nearly miss Oz in the crowd but you spot him just as he enters a side room, heaving the heavy door open horizontally with little effort.

You spot a couple people leaving the room hurriedly, some half dressed and worse for wear. You manage to slip in just as it starts to close again and it locks itself. You’re taken aback by the space, it had been a freezer once upon a time but now it’s a private room with an endless wrap around couch and all glass coffee table with a personal bar at the end. Oz is sat down pouring out some champagne from the silver bucket beside him. He looks up at the sound of someone else in the room, ready to let a roar at whoever snuck in. When he recognises you, he withdraws the shout about to come out and says nothing. He knocks back the glass and its contents before bringing it back down to his chest to refill it.

“What the fuck was all that?” you ask quietly. The music outside is a quiet hum inside here. You haven’t moved yet, unsure if he even wants you near him.

“I don’t want to talk about it” he grunts into another glass, hunched over the table and thumb continuing to twist his ring.

“Well tough shit, Oz. You have to” you snap. “You can’t just beat the shit out of a guy and not talk about it!” you yell as you start to move closer to him. He doesn’t respond, and you feel bad for shouting at him but you don’t exactly know how to act in this situation. You let out a quiet sigh, and see that his hand is still bloody. He doesn’t look like a man who just won a fight. You walk over and pick up the cloth covering the ice bucket, taking some cubes out gingerly before wrapping them up.

You sit down on his right side, take his hand. He doesn’t say anything again, and you don’t need to. He watches you bring the cool fabric to his already bruising knuckles, meticulously dabbing away the dried blood and the fresh. He doesn’t try to evade the familiar sting that seeps in. He watches you for a while like this, gently cleaning and soothing the broken skin before he finally speaks.

“I can’t stand him, y’know” he mumbles, it’s probably the quietest you’ve ever heard him. His barely moved. You don’t need clarification, you just nod. If he wants to talk, let him.

“He fuckin’ speaks to me like a dog. Worse” he snorts, large fingers of his left hand twirling the champagne flute under the light. You think of what Falcone told you earlier, and feel the need to let it out. There’s a good chance he could go back out there and shoot him in the head, you already know he has his gun on him you had felt it as soon as he held you to him earlier.

“I don’t like the way he speaks to you either. You don’t deserve that. You’re clearly doing the guy a favour here, he lives in your club rent free and drinks it dry weekly I’m sure” you whisper back, the idea of him getting shot becoming more enticing as you speak.

“He, uh, he told me you give the girls here your money too” you let slip. Oz takes his hand back from you.

“He said what?” he looks pissed off again, brows knitting together.

You let out a shaky breath, for whatever comes.

“He said ‘You’re not the only girl Oz spends his money on”’ you quote, doing your best creepy voice.

There’s another heavy silence. Oh.

“So that’s true?”

“Not like that. Not like you” he shakes his head, flexing his hand to get the blood pumping again.

“Like what then?” you prod.

“It’s not the same as when I give you money. The girls here, they don’t have a lot. Some of them have worked here years with nothing to show for it. They have to put up with a lot of bullshit down here, and I help out where I can” he explains.

He rubs the back of his hand against his scarred cheek as he tries to find the words.

“I don’t get anything out of it, I can tell you that. I know what it’s like to scrape by”

His voice almost breaks at the end, and you know he’s telling the truth. He’s a lot of things but he’s not a liar. Not to you. You take his injured hand again, wrapping it as best you can with your own.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you” you say, chest already beginning to feel lighter than before.

“Don’t be, honey. You have every reason to” he smiles a little, eyes almost glassy. “I’d do anything for you” he admits in a rush.

You let his words sink in with a smile, and trace shapes on his palm before you begin to speak again.

“Quite a show you put on out there…”

“That was nothin’ – you should have seen me back in the day. He’d have been lucky to see” he grins fondly.

“Still, pretty impressive” you agree, bringing his bruised hand to your lips and letting them hover over the hot skin.

You see the cocky grin fall from his face immediately when you begin to kiss gently along the bloodied skin. You hold his stare, and see the lights glint off his gold teeth as he’s agape. You give a sweet smile, the one that drives him crazy as you go back and forth before getting bolder and letting the tip of your tongue slip out to soak up the stains the cloth couldn’t shift.

He actually shivers at the display, and swallows hard when you move to suck at the knuckles softly.

“What are you doin’ to me?” he lets out under his breath, half to himself as he feels himself getting hard. Though to be fair, he had a semi from making that guy apologize earlier. Letting him and the rest of the club know what was his. Truth be told, he’d missed a good fight. You don’t answer his question, you know full well what you do to him. You move your lips away and place his palm on your cheek, hands wrapping around his thick wrist. You lean into it and kiss underneath the thumb before moving closer to catch his lips with yours.

His hand glides to the back of your neck, where it almost always finds itself. You press yourself against his side, feeling the warmth seeping out of his tight shirt. He’d opened his blazer when he sat down to make himself comfortable and you’re glad because now you can freely run your hand down his clothed chest and stomach. He doesn’t shy away this time but groans into your mouth at the touch as he deepens the kiss further. You pull away to catch your breath and unbutton the top of his trousers, he swallows hard once more as you let your hand slip in. You rub his already wet cock through his boxers and he lets out a hiss at the friction, you look to him again.

“Do you want me to suck you off, baby?” you murmur against his lips and he grits his teeth with a sharp nod.

If you’d asked him, he’d have begged. You’re sure of it. But right now, you’re too far gone to do it.

You shift off the couch, the cool tiles a welcome change of temperature against your hot skin and Oz spreads his legs wide to give you room. It’s a hell of a sight. Big bad gangster wrapped around your finger, cock twitching against his custom suit with precum stains already. You give a knowing smile and he returns it, soft jaw on full show from this angle but he doesn’t care. It’s a nice change.

You press your hands against the flesh of his thighs, feeling them strain against your touch already as you rub higher on his thick legs. You let your hands wander up to his chest, avoiding his cock entirely and it aches when you ignore it. Only intensifying the scene. You pull up the bottom of his shirt, untucking it and bringing a hand to stroke his stomach.

He’s trying hard not to get self-conscious like you’d asked of him and you can see it in his brown eyes. You oblige him by raking your nails along his gut to his happy trail as you kiss the head of his cock. He gives a hard groan and knocks his head back again, grinding involuntarily against you. You stop your kisses at once, and his head falls back to question you. Not much in the mood for teasing.

“I know you like it when I fuck your face, Ozzie. Don’t you?” you ask, watching him squirm when you let your tongue lick a stripe up from the base. He nods again and gives a shaky ‘yes’ as you continue.

“Well I don’t, sweetie. You need to be good for me, okay?” you hum against him and see the way his stomach muscles clench at your words.

“I promise” he stammers weakly, and you reward him by taking him into your hot mouth. He’s trying as much as he can to keep still, but you’re making it near impossible with the way you draw him in. You moan against his head when you bob along his length, he’s already swollen to his limits and twitching against your tongue. But when you swirl it against the vein that runs along the bottom he almost lets out a cry.

He caves a little and brings his hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek and keeping you close. He prays you won’t stop to admonish him, for fear he’d come from your anger alone. But you don’t, you hum louder around him at the feeling of his once bloodied hand being so gentle. It’s so hot you’d die happily to keep this going forever, and you know that so would he.

You buck your own hips around nothing as you continue, taking more in your mouth as you go. Your left-hand digs into the flesh of his stomach and he winces at the feeling but the way he’s panting it’s only spurring him on. You’ve had your eyes closed for most of this, letting the taste of his precum and feel of his hot skin fill your senses along with his broken whines and gasps. You open them to see he’s barely clinging to his promise, when your eyes meet, he almost grinds his hips against your tongue. He’s so slick that when you let your right-hand stroke the rest that doesn’t fit in you, it glides with obscene ease – not to mention the sound of it.

“I’m so fuckin’ close, sweetheart” he warns you between pants, like you hadn’t felt his heavy balls tense a few seconds ago against your hand. You double down on your efforts in response, moving the hand on his stomach around to rest on his lower back – urging him let go on your tongue whenever he was ready. You look up to him again and hollow out your cheeks as much as you can, grip almost painful on his cock as he finally comes hard down your throat.

He’d lifted himself off the couch in the process but you don’t scold him for it. Instead, you draw out the last few thrusts of his hips. You give him lazy kisses and licks around his cock, letting your tongue lay flat at his most sensitive parts. His cum is almost sweet you realise, maybe he’s onto something with the daily sundaes. You wrap your hand once more around his softening dick, drawing one last heavy groan from him. You smile at his dazed expression, swallowing hard to catch his breath.

You sit on his open lap, letting his bare cock rub against you when you draw him into a wet kiss. You can’t help pressing yourself down on him, and he wraps his arms around you to hold you there. You bite into his bottom lip and he’s groaning again. You swear you feel him stir underneath you again.

You guess it is a night for firsts.

penguin sketches my redesigns