Sex Addict in Flea Bottom (SI)

Thomas stood behind the bar, tapping his fingers on the worn wood, eyes scanning the thin crowd scattered across the tavern. Despite Lyra's growing popularity, the money wasn't coming in like he'd hoped. They weren't attracting enough customers, and it gnawed at him. He forced a grin, turning toward Marla's daughters as they worked nearby.

"Looks like we're still making more from Flea Bottom than this place, huh?" he quipped, his voice laced with irony.

The girls giggled, whispering among themselves as they wiped down tables. But the joke felt too close to the truth for comfort. He let out a sigh, pushing off the bar. It was almost midday, and Lyra was still upstairs, probably curled up under the sheets, fast asleep. He could already imagine her, the blanket twisted around her legs, a pillow hugged to her chest. The lazy thing would sleep half the day if he let her.

Thomas had a different way to get her out of bed today. Something that wouldn't involve shouting.

He slipped quietly upstairs, the wooden steps groaning slightly under his weight. When he reached the door to her room, he eased it open just enough to see her lying there, completely oblivious to the world. The blanket had slipped down, revealing the soft curve of her legs and the barest hint of skin. She was a beautiful sight, hair spilling across the pillow, her chest rising and falling with her steady breath.

With a grin, Thomas stripped off his trousers, his cock already starting to stir at the thought of what he was about to do. He approached the bed, lifting the blanket gently and slipping between her legs, positioning himself carefully. Lyra didn't even stir.

Without a word, he slid himself into her, the warmth of her body enveloping him immediately. She twitched slightly, her breath catching as she shifted beneath him, but her eyes stayed closed. Her lips curled into a sleepy smile.

"Mmm… you couldn't wait, huh?" she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep as her eyes fluttered open.

He grinned down at her, slowly pushing deeper. "Marla's already up, making breakfast," he whispered against her ear, his lips brushing her skin. "But I wanted to wake you the right way."

Lyra giggled softly, her body arching into him as she stretched, feeling him inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer, her hips lifting slightly to meet his slow movements. "Guess I don't mind this wake-up call," she teased, her voice still a little groggy, but the heat in her tone was unmistakable.

Thomas moved against her, his hands gripping her hips as he kissed the side of her neck. She moaned softly, tilting her head to give him better access as he worked his way from her neck to her collarbone. Her skin was soft under his lips, and her breath grew heavier with each kiss. She clung to him, her fingers curling around his shoulders, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together.

Her body stirred awake fully now, her hips lifting, matching his thrusts. Lyra's soft moans filled the room, her legs tightening around him, urging him to move faster. He gripped her tighter, his teeth grazing her neck as his pace quickened, the friction sending shudders through both of them.

Lyra's breath hitched, her moans becoming louder as he pressed deeper into her, each thrust drawing a gasp from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her back arching as their movements grew more intense. She was awake now, fully wrapped up in the heat of the moment, her body responding to every movement, every touch.

Thomas kissed her, rougher this time, claiming her mouth as he rocked into her harder. Her nails raked down his back, her moans turning into little cries as the pleasure built between them. He grunted, feeling her tighten around him, her legs squeezing him as her body shuddered beneath him.

His own climax was building fast, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more forceful. Lyra gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her breath coming out in short, ragged bursts as he pushed her closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, skin on skin, their breathing fast and heavy.

He felt her tense beneath him, her back arching off the bed as she cried out, her climax crashing through her. Her body trembled, her legs locking around his waist as she clung to him, her moans loud and desperate.

Thomas wasn't far behind. With one last, hard thrust, he groaned, his body shuddering as he spilled into her, his hips jerking as the pleasure surged through him. They stayed like that for a moment, breathless, their bodies still pressed together, the heat between them lingering as their heartbeats began to slow.

He kissed her one more time, softer now, his hand cupping her cheek. "We should probably get to work," he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he smiled.

Lyra laughed softly, her chest still rising and falling with shallow breaths. "If you insist," she teased, playfully pushing him off her. She rolled out of bed, stretching her arms above her head as she stood, her shift clinging to her curves. "But I expect more wake-ups like this."

Thomas chuckled, pulling his trousers back on as he watched her. "Deal."

They made their way downstairs, and soon the tavern was bustling with the usual morning prep. Marla was already in the kitchen, her hands busy chopping vegetables as her daughters scurried around, helping wherever they could.

As Thomas scrubbed plates at the sink, he caught Marla's eye. "What do you think about knocking down the wall between the kitchen and the dining area?" he asked, drying his hands.

Marla raised an eyebrow, pausing her chopping. "What brought that on?"

He shrugged. "Other taverns have their hooks. Maybe if people could see us cooking, it'd pull them in."

She thought about it, tapping her fingers on the counter. "Might work, but it won't be cheap. And it's not like we're swimming in coin."

Thomas winced, nodding. "Yeah, we're not ready for that yet. Just thinking ahead."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but that nagging thought stayed with him—how they needed something to stand out. As night fell, he watched the few customers trickle in, far fewer than he'd hoped. Some patrons were clearly put off by the prices, leaving after a glance at the menu. It was clear: the food was too pricey for the poorer folk who made up most of the nearby crowd.

Thomas frowned, his mind racing for a solution. And then, an idea came to him.

He grabbed the last jar of peanut butter, spreading a generous amount on a piece of roasted bread. He placed it on a small pedestal in the center of the room, drawing curious looks from the remaining patrons. Clearing his throat, he caught their attention.

"This is a new dish I've made—peanut butter on bread," he announced, holding the plate up. "Whoever eats it doesn't have to pay for their meal tonight."

The room went silent. Patrons exchanged looks of confusion, even disgust. Several of them stood and left, shaking their heads. Thomas's stomach twisted in frustration, but he didn't back down. He watched the plate, waiting for someone—anyone—to try it.

Marla stormed into the kitchen, her eyes flashing. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "You just scared off the few customers we had with that peanut nonsense!"

He met her gaze evenly. "You've tasted it. You know it's good."

"They don't! And now they think we're serving dirt."

Thomas clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "We need to take risks, Marla. We have to try something."

Marla rolled her eyes. "You may have lost us customers for good. Peanuts aren't exactly high-class cuisine."

He ignored her, keeping his eyes locked on the untouched sandwich. The night dragged on, and soon there were only a handful of patrons left. Just as he was about to admit defeat, one of the larger customers—a man who had eaten more than his fill—stood and approached the sandwich. Thomas held his breath as the man examined it, his hand hovering over the plate. But just as he was about to take a bite, he pulled away, shaking his head and returning to his seat.

Thomas slammed his fist on the counter, cursing under his breath. But then, a thin, wiry man, clearly less well-off, approached the plate. He hesitated, then grabbed the sandwich, taking a tentative bite.

The room held its breath.

The man chewed slowly, his expression changing as he took another bite, then another. He looked up, his eyes wide. Just as he was about to finish it, the large man rushed over and snatched the sandwich from him, taking a bite himself. The two began bickering, each claiming the prize.

Thomas stepped forward with a grin. "Tell you what," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You both can eat another sandwich and not pay for anything tonight."

They hesitated but quickly agreed, grabbing the next sandwich as if they couldn't help themselves. The rest of the patrons watched in stunned silence as they devoured it.

Once they were done, Thomas took the opportunity to show the remaining customers the simple truth. He pulled out a peanut, dunked it in a bowl of water, and cracked it open, revealing the clean, edible nut inside.

"See?" he said. "Only the shell touches

 the dirt. The peanut itself is perfectly clean."

By the end of the night, two more patrons had tried the dish, leaving with full bellies and smiles on their faces. Thomas couldn't help but look smugly at Marla as she crossed her arms, feigning annoyance.

"I told you," he teased, flashing her a grin.

Marla stepped forward, pulling him into a deep, searing kiss that left him breathless. Her lips were soft but demanding, and it wasn't long before he felt himself harden in response. Lyra, ever the troublemaker, giggled from the corner and ushered Marla's daughters upstairs, leaving the two of them alone.

Knowing full well where this was headed, Thomas pulled her into the pantry, where he had recently set up a makeshift bed for nights like this. Marla smirked, playfully tugging at his shirt as they stumbled into the small space. 

Once inside, Marla pushed him down onto the bed, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his trousers. She straddled him, her breath coming faster as she leaned down, whispering against his ear, "Tonight, I want something different."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as she reached for the bottle of oil beside the bed.

Marla, biting her lip, leaned back, guiding his hands to her hips. "The other entrance," she said with a smirk, her voice low and teasing.

Thomas blinked in surprise, but he didn't hesitate. He coated his fingers with oil, working her slowly, gently, as she rocked against him, her breath coming in soft gasps as he prepared her.

"Go slow," she murmured, her eyes half-closed, her body tensing slightly as he positioned himself.

He grunted in response, carefully pressing forward, feeling her muscles resist slightly before giving way. Marla let out a sharp breath, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he slid deeper, her body adjusting to the sensation.

It wasn't easy, not for either of them, but they moved together, finding a rhythm that worked. Her gasps filled the small room, her body rocking back and forth as he pushed into her, careful not to hurt her. She winced a few times, but he kept going, watching her closely, making sure not to go too fast.

When they were both spent, lying in a tangle of limbs, Marla shook her head with a laugh. "I don't think I'll be trying that again," she said, her voice light, but there was a hint of discomfort in it.

Thomas groaned, pulling her closer. "Can't say I blame you."

She chuckled softly before raising an eyebrow at him. "If you want to try that again, maybe I should return the favor. Let me use your bumhole next time."

Thomas laughed, backing off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let's stick to the usual."

Marla grinned, settling against him. "We'll build something great together," she murmured, her voice soft as sleep crept in.

Thomas nodded, pulling her closer, already half-asleep. They drifted off like that, tangled together, his body still inside hers, the warmth between them chasing away the cold of the night.

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