Tommy and Callie: An End
NOTE: now that you've seen how it began, have a look at how it ended.

Who: Tommy and Callie May
Where: Tennessee
When: once upon a time

WARNING: sex

Tommy is humming under his breath as he kicks up dust on the dirt road. He grins to himself, a bottle in hand, and sways a little precariously. He sidles around to the side of Callie's trailer, and then starts to drum his fingers quietly against the window, lifting the bottle for another swig.

It's a few minutes before the window finally slides open. Callie draws the little curtain back to stare a little blearily at Tommy, the sleep still dragging her eyes shut. "Tommy?" Her voice is thick and croaky from sleep. "Christ Almighty, what time is it?"

"Time for your wake-up call, o'course," Tom announces, putting his elbows on the narrow window and starting to pull himself up into it, drunk and clumsy.

Callie moves aside to give him room out of habit, a hand coming up to rub at her eyes as she sits further up in bed. "Felt like I jus' fell asleep," Callie stifles a yawn against the back of her hand. She pauses midway, finally noticing the smell of liquor. "Tommy..." she murmurs softly, sadly.

Tom grins at her, crooked and pleased with himself, as he tumbles through the window, too long-limbed and drunk to be very graceful about it. "Well now you're awake, 'cause I'm here." He climbs across the bed to her, leaning in to snuffle at her ear in greeting, pressing the bottle of whiskey to her lips for her to take a sip.

"Mmph--!" Callie squeaks with surprise, his hands flying up to wave in the air between them. She turns her head away from the bottle and his lips. She wipes at the little bit of liquor on her lips with the back of her hand, turning sad, brown eyes at Tom. "I don't want any, Tommy. You shouldn't want any either."

"Why shouldn't I?" Tom asks, laughing faintly and then taking a long gulp from the bottle, looking at her as he does it as if defying her.

"It's bad for you, Tommy," Callie tries to explain to him, like she's tried to explain to him for years now. She picks at the long sleeves of the old nightshirt's she's wearing, which was big enough that she always wears it alone. It was her daddy's.

"Don't really matter much, does it?" Tom says, before he scoots in next to her and leans in, pressing his lips to her ear. "What, you wanna distract me?" he asks her playfully, mouth against her skin.

Callie stiffens at the touch, but she doesn't move away aside from the slight shift of her head, making his lips brush against her hair instead. "Sure, Tommy," she says, very slowly. "We can talk."

Tom scoffs, and then tackles her a little suddenly, tipping her over on the bed. He laughs, pinning her beneath him and then nuzzling at her neck like an overexcited dog, fingers tickling her ribs. "You shootin' me down, Callie May Porter? You givin' me the cold shoulder?"

"N-No!" she shouts in between fits of laughter, "no, Tommy-- I can't breathe!" Tom's a big boy, and Callie's a very tiny girl, but she still tries to wiggle away from him. Something flares in the back of her mind, telling her that something isn't right here, but she can't stop listening to her heart that tells her this is her best friend, who'd never dare do her wrong. She yelps out when his fingers refuse to stop tickling her, and she's never been more thankful that her aunt's a heavy sleeper.

Tom stops tickling her, instead nuzzling in and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "C'mon, we'll have fun. Don't you wanna have fun, Cal?"

"Sure I do," replies Callie readily, but warily. The smell of liquor's filling her senses with him so close, and no matter how hard she tries she can't make herself like it. "But you're a big boy, Tommy, an' you're real heavy on a tiny thing like me."

Tom makes a soft noise of protest, his chin coarse with scruff as he nuzzles her jaw. "S'alright. I won't crush you. Relax."

"Maybe we should just talk, Tommy," Callie tries again. Her tiny hands reach up to lightly grip his shoulders. "You can tell me 'bout your day."

"It wasn't worth livin'. Bet you could brighten it up," Tom mumbles, starting to sneak his hand up her thigh.

The hand startles her, making her knee jerk up in reflex. "T-Tommy-- you shouldn't--" That thing in the back of her mind flares up again, louder, desperate, but Callie doesn't want to believe in it. Tommy wouldn't hurt her. Tommy wouldn't ever hurt her. He's just playing around, that's all. "Tommy, stop, please."

Tom makes a frustrated noise and rolls off of Callie, onto his back on her bed. "Fine, whatever you say," he sighs. "You ain't no fun." He reaches for his bottle, fumbling a little, and props up on his elbow to take a long swig.

Callie doesn't move for a while after he'd rolled off, her eyes wide and staring up at her ceiling. She waits the voice in her head has quieted before turning to look at him. "I'm sorry, Tommy," she whispers softly, biting down on a lip. She feels like she's just betrayed him, somehow.

"Coulda been out with someone else, but I chose you, an' you ain't got no mind for it," Tom grumbles, swirling the liquor in his bottle and watching it spin. "Next time I'll pick someone else."

Cold fear grips Callie so suddenly she forgets to breathe. "I didn't say I had no mind for it, Tommy, I didn't!" she insists suddenly, sitting up and gripping his shoulder. "You ain't gotta pick anyone else, Tommy, not when I'm right here. I just..." she fumbles, lost, "I didn't know you wanted stuff like that from me..."

He doesn't usually. Usually, she's sweet as a sister to him, and he'd never dream of it. Usually, he hasn't got much of a mind for girls at all. But he's drunk and she's right there, and Tom wants to get off. "Pretty gal like you, why wouldn't I?" he asks, lifting his brows and gazing at her with silvery blue eyes. "I'm awful lonely tonight, Cal. Real lonely. Thought you'd wanna keep me company."

His words hit her hard-- they always do. Tom thinks she's pretty. Tom thought of her. First. He's always been there for her, and she's being ungrateful. She'd always been told your first time had to be with someone special, and Tom was special to her. He was Tommy, Tommy boy. Her Tommy boy. Very quietly, she nods, one hand coming up to grip the edge of the nightshirt she's wearing. She wrings the material around nervously. "I do," she answers after a while. "I will."

Tom's lips part, and he starts to grin, slowly and faintly. "Really? Come an' give me a kiss, then, babydoll." He reaches for her, putting a hand on her waist and guiding her to him, propped up on one of his elbows on her bed.

Callie bites down on her lip again, her body tensing when he touches her. She moves with his urging, unable to do anything else. She shifts forward, crawling on her hands and knees till she's close enough to breathe on him. Her lips hover over his, hesitant; she doesn't even have to inhale to smell the alcohol on him. She shuts her eyes and closes the gap between them, hoping she's doing it right.

Tom tips his chin up to meet her lips, setting the bottle of whiskey down on her night stand again so that he can slide his arms around her. He sinks back against the pillows, taking her with him, urging her body to press against his. Girls are fun sometimes, he thinks. They have all sorts of soft parts that feel good pressed against you. His mouth draws at hers, slow and soft, trying to coax her into relaxing.

Her eyes are squeezed so tight, it's giving her a headache. Or maybe it's just that voice again, growing louder and louder and telling his this is not right but she can't listen to it, she won't. She has to do what Tommy wants. She owes him. She doesn't want him to leave her too. So she tries to relax, tries to make laying over him a little more comfortable. She shifts over his body, one of his legs pressed up between hers, her breasts crushed against his chest, and her tiny hands gripping at the sleeves of his shirt.

Tom's hand sneaks down from the small of her back slightly, just where her backside begins to curve, and then his tongue swipes over her lower lip. He coaxes it into her mouth, slipping against her tongue, and his hand slides up her back, dragging fabric with it, letting the big shirt ride up her back.

Callie shivers from the sudden cold air that hits her back, or perhaps it's due to the tongue currently curling against hers, moving so unfamiliarly it frightens her. But she struggles to clear her mind, to push the troublesome feelings away. This is Tommy, she tells herself, again and again. He'd never hurt her. Steeling herself, she draws back just enough so she can slip the shirt over her head, letting it flutter to the ground in a quiet rustle of cotton.

Tom slips his hands up her back again, meeting her lips for a soft kiss and then bringing his mouth to her throat, kissing along it. One of his hands gathers her hair, drawing it away from her neck, freeing up room for his mouth. He kisses the line of her shoulder, and then suddenly rolls them over so that Callie is beneath him. He braces himself over her with one elbow and leans in, bringing his mouth to one of her nipples and closing over it, dragging his tongue over her skin. His hand trails down her side, fingers tucking under the band of her underwear at her hip.

Callie lets out a sharp, shuddering breath. Her body shivers from his touches, soft and almost loving. No, not they are loving. This is Tommy. This is Tommy. With her mouth free, Callie bites down on her lip again, turning her head to the side, trying to keep quiet as his tongue manipulates her. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, but she wills them away. Tentatively she lifts a hand, letting her fingers curl around his hair, trying to encourage him where her words fail.

Tom's lips trace along her breast, and his hand inches further under the band of her underwear. He lifts his head, looking down, then back up at her face. He watches her eyes as his hand slips down, fingertips brushing against her.

Callie's body seizes up as she sucks in a breath. Her brows knit together in surprise as a shudder running down her spine makes her limbs shake. She whispers his name, almost whimpering. She can't understand how a touch can feel so good and so bad at the same time.

Tom nods faintly, leaning in to kiss her lips softly as his fingers explore her. He pushes one inside of her tentatively, his hips shifting against her side, impatient and looking for friction. He waits to see if his finger will hurt her before doing anything else.

Momentarily distracted by the hips shifting against her, Callie barely has a moment to process it before a something sharp shoots through her. She winces, gasping out sharply. Her hands tighten around his shoulders, but for only a second. Her breathing grows ragged, but she's hastily making it even out, as if trying to correct her mistake. She licks at her lips, absently nodding.

Tom nuzzles at her cheek as he works a second finger into her, coaxing her body into accepting it. If she hurts at all, he doesn't notice it. "Ain't gonna hurt you, babydoll," he murmurs. "Gonna treat you real nice. Ain't it feel good?"

"Uh- uh huh," Callie replies without hesitation, though her shaky breath betrays her. She can feel the pleasure starting to spread through, but there's still a tiny bit of fear there that she hates. It makes her not trust Tommy, and she thinks that's horrible of her. She shifts beneath him, tentatively spreading her legs to give him more room.

Tom kisses her ear, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. His fingers work inside of her, his breath humid and hot on her face, reeking of whiskey. "Like it when you say my name," he whispers. "You oughta say it."

"Tommy," Callie whispers softly, after swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, spying the shadows playing along her ceiling, then she squeezes them shut again. She grips his shoulders a little tighter, a soft gasp escaping her when his fingers twitch inside her. "Tommy," she says again, moaning faintly, whimpering.

Tom moans softly when she says his name, his thumb rubbing against more sensitive skin, letting it spark through her nerves. "Cal," he whispers, voice low and husky against her ear. "Callie. I want you."

He's breathing the words so close to her, she can almost ignore the smell of whiskey when he says them. She licks at her lips again, her body shifting anxiously as she thinks about what happens next. But it's okay, she tries to tell herself. He wants her. It doesn't even matter to her how he wants her, just that he wants her. "Okay Tommy," she whispers against his cheek. She presses a soft kiss there. "I'm yours."

Tom nods and then shifts, drawing his hand out of her underwear. He kneels, pulling off his shirt, and then gazes down at her as he tugs his belt buckle loose. "You want me?" he asks her as he watches her, her chest bare and her underwear crooked, cheeks deliciously flushed.

"Yes," she breathes out, without even hesitating. She's both relieved and wary now that he's pulled away; but she knows he won't be gone for long. She tries to keep her eyes on his as he tugs his belt loose, and absently she reaches down to push her underwear down her ships, shimmying them down the length of her legs. This is Tommy, she repeats like a mantra. Her Tommy. "I want you." She reaches out for him, curling his fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him down to press a kiss to his lips, letting him know she means it.

Tom returns the kiss, pushing his jeans down his hips, dragging his underwear with them. He kicks them off along with his shoes, his lips parting from hers for a moment before they return. He touches her thigh, easing them apart, and settles his hips between hers. He rubs against her, his hand fitting over her breast, thumb circling her nipple slowly as he kisses her.

Callie kind of wishes he'd just get through with it. Quick and painless, like a bandaid. She hopes. "Tommy," she murmurs against his lips, trying to coax him to hurry. Her anxieties are starting to get the better of her again, and she wants to run. She grips his shoulders, lifting her legs to loosely wrap around his waist. "Tommy-- please--"

In his mind, it's not out of anxiety that she says those words - its out of desire. It does to his head, sending shocks of pleasure through him. He draws his hips away from her slightly, reaching down between them, and then finally begins to push into her as slowly as he can bear to.

Her breath catches in her throat, eyes snapping wide open when she feels the pressure. That only lets the tears finally start pouring out, trekking down her cheeks, off the side of her face, into her hair, her pillow. She gasps in pain, and tries to wriggle away out of pure instinct, but she hasn't anywhere to run.

Tom stills over her, though his body wants him to keep pushing forward. He kisses her ear, slides his arms under her to cradle her. "Relax, baby. Relax. We're gonna have fun, but you gotta relax."

"It hurts Tommy," she whimpers against his neck, shaking faintly from her tears and fear. "I don't like it.."

Tom shakes his head, closing his eyes. If she makes him stop, he thinks he'll lose his mind. "You will. You gotta get used to it. Like jumpin' in the Cumberlan', real cold at firs', but then it's fun, right?"

Callie draws in a breath after the other, trying to force her tears to stop. She wills herself to listen to him, because he's never led her wrong before. He can't be wrong about this either. So she nods, sniffling against his chest. "Okay," she whimpers quietly, slowly letting her thighs loosen and spread beneath him again, "okay Tommy.."

"Alright. Jus' relax. It's gonna feel good, I promise." He's being as patient as he can with her, even if he wants to keep pushing until he gets what he wants. He waits a moment before he moves, slowly thrusting into her, trying to be gentle. It's hardly in his nature to be gentle, but even as drunk and sex-starved as he is, he knows he has to take care of her.

She lets her eyes slip shut again, forcing deep, calming breaths as he starts to move. She can feel the pleasure start to bubble deep in her gut again, and she latches on to the feeling, willing the other horrible feelings away. She reaches up and lightly grips his arms, and soon the tiny sounds leaving her lips aren't whimpers, but quiet little moans.

Tom moves a little deeper, just a little faster when he hears those soft moans. He builds his way up, not rushing. It really takes more control than he has, but he manages it for her. "Callie," he whispers, a soft moan against her ear. "Yes... Callie."

She lets out a tiny sob when she hears her name. Her arms fly up to wrap around Tom's neck, holding him closeer to her. Her legs lift up to wrap around his waist, quietly encouraging his his movements. It's not so bad when she can distract herself with every other thing he's doing to her. It's almost romantic, when she twists it around in her mind enough. She turns her head and moans his name into his ear, begging him to go faster, but for him, not her.

Tom does, his movements finding a new speed - pressing, almost desperate. He's starved for it, and he thinks that she can take it now. He thinks she must like it just as much as he does. He pants, letting out quiet grunts of pleasure, cradling her against his chest as he moves into her again and again. He doesn't think he'll hold for long, but he's too drunk to care.

"Yes.. Tommy--" she pants against his ear, moaning faintly when she thinks she should. She's stopped trying to focus on the pleasure, because even that hadn't been distracting enough. She feels like crying, but she knows he hates that, so she doesn't. This is Tommy, her Tommy, and he must be hurting real bad if he's like this, so her heart goes out to him. She holds him tightly, keeping him as close as possible, trying to move and moan and squeeze to try and coax the end out from him.

Tom isn't far off, and those movements from her bring him close. Her voice moaning his name, her hands clutching his shoulders - it all sends sparks of pleasure through his foggy mind. His break takes him by surprise when it comes, before he can even consider pulling out of her first. Drunk as he is, it doesn't occur to him what that could mean. He keeps pushing, riding out his pleasure, and then finally collapses heavily on top of her, panting and sweat-sheened.

Callie hardly realizes the implications of his action (or inaction) either, far too occupied with the heavy body suddenly cutting off her air supply. She shifts around, just enough that her chest isn't completely beneath him. She takes in one gasping breath after another, not minding the smell of liquor, the weird feeling in her lower region, or the body weighing down the rest of her body. She's just thankful he's finished. Turning towards him, she presses a kiss along his sweat-slicked brow and murmurs his name like she thinks a best friend turned lover is supposed to. She'll wait until he's sleeping to cry.