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To Melody, from Thomas	By : Comeintotheriver Category: Individual Celebrities > Tom Hiddleston Views: 422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is fictional. I don't know Tom Hiddleston. Any likeness to T. H. in real life is coincidental. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The First Letter
- 1
AN: First, I'm American, not British. Hopefully, my Britishisms aren't too awful. I'm an okay writer. Fantasy not reality. I don't worship T.H. But I do find him very attractive. This is cheesy as fuck. It's also extremely vulgar, language wise. If that's not your thing, click back.

Dear Melody,

I received your letter. I'm glad you enjoyed my latest movie. I love playing Loki because I know how much you love it when I'm playing him, too. I've been practicing my 'American' like you said I should.

I’ve been in America, off and on for my job and since I’ve known your father, but it seems my British habits are harder to break than I imagined.

How poor are they who have not patience. – Shakespeare –

How use doth breed a habit in a man. – Shakespeare –

I’m still curious to know what you thought about the video I sent you. I'd hoped you found my 'American' alright in it, hopefully not as Posh as my usual 'accent, (charming laugh).'

I hope you also remembered to back up the video I sent you before deleting it and to hide your backup in that secret spot we always talk about...not that one, you naughty fox, the other one.

We wouldn't want Charlie discovering it, now, would we? Mmm, now would we...

He's my best mate. In fact, we're so close that he made me a godfather to his only, very irresistible daughter. But he's also as thick as two short planks, no offense to your dad.

Him recently divorcing hasn't helped, I'm sure. I feel bad for him, and I know he's your dad and I know you miss being around your mum more regularly and all.

I'd like to hug you the next time we meet up... You can cry on my shoulder as long and as much as you like, okay? Thomas is always here for you.

Always.

Whether you're crying on my shoulder or I'm making you laugh, I'm just glad you enjoy my company.

I'm glad you enjoy my embrace...

I'm glad you enjoy my hands searching your recently blossomed body, full of overflowing, winding roads that make your female peers jealous and that I can hardly thrust my eyes away from in your presence.

Are my eyes wickedly and suggestively squinting at you? Is my mouth parting, revealing my tongue alluringly awaking within it? Am I moaning under my breath with my arousal (devilish laugh)?

Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Though, I probably am.

This leads me to my big question...a question I know you've been dying...mmm (wicked grin)...for me to ask you considering all the naughty things you wrote for Thomas in your last letter...

Have you been petting my favorite little kitty since the last time, I did so, hm?

And when you pet that juicy, swollen, wet little kitty, did you make certain not to scream my name too loud, to keep your other daddy from hearing what is meant for my ears and my ears, alone?

If I find out that he heard you, you already know the huge, heavy, hard price to be paid in full the next time I've got you alone in my unforgiving grasp.

You think I tied your little wrists so very tight the last time I saw you, just you wait, mmm. But I know you like it tight, too. Just as much as I do...

You love wrapping that bodacious body of yours like a roundabout sinched at the center with a deluge of curves, in flirty dresses so I can grind my hardened lust against your voluminous bottom at the club I snuck you into, all night.

You love awakening and swelling my senses with the expensive, flowery, feminine perfume you spent your other daddy's money on.

You love when we're heading back to my hotel in the back of the tented Hummer, hearing, observing and feeling me hum, whine, groan against your downpour because of my desire for you with the tent that's crying for you in my pants, on the verge of popping from just your taste, smell and the obsessive, brutish desire for you in my eyes...

Don't look at me like that.

You like it when I talk with such awful, filthy, nasty boldness to you just as much as I like coming up with new ways to devour your sweet, sweet, little cunt. Nnngh.

Your head flies off its axis when I pump my fingers in and out and in and out of it.

You absolutely, astoundingly melt when I fuck it with my tongue, all your juices and all my saliva dripping all over my slick, red lips you stare at so much whenever I'm talking to you and tremble from suckling whenever we're drowning in long, hot kissing sessions.

You want Tommy, Loki, Daddy...whomever and whatever you wish me to be...to do very bad things to you...to say very bad things to you...and I am beyond happy to oblige (mischievous grin).

Hnnngh, you should see it, Melody...how hard in my pants I am for you.

Writing all these bad words are driving me insane with need. I thought about you a lot on set. Thankfully, I had Loki's skirted uniform to hide all my painful erections.

But I know what you would've wanted...the very dirty, depraved thing you would've wanted of me...

You would've wanted me to rush to my trailer, pop it out and then pump it with the utmost urgency. You would've wanted me to moan under my breath for you.

You would've wanted me to make delicious, intense faces for you.

As I did all that you wanted of me because I can't stop thinking about you, tears would've been rushing down my cheeks because of the ache in my heart from being so far away from you.

I would've still been adorned in Loki's uniform because I'm just so piggishly filthy and iniquitous for you like that, until I shot my many, creamy, hot loads all over my black, leather, trailer couch.

You would've made me turn Loki into an unwashed, wanton whore of a porno star. The very dark, kinky things the thought of you provokes me to do. But don't you worry your big, pretty eyes.

I'm not supposed to, but I've managed to get my paws on that costume, and I promise to put on the best, sexiest show for you the next time I see you. I promise.

Hmmm, I can't fucking wait! Bloody hell, lol (seductively grinning, biting my lip, winking at you and only you).

You just don't know how much I need you...to be inside you, right now. I'm trembling so terribly. I can barely breath and my mouth is so dry.

My nipples are so tight for you against my expensive, fitted, almost translucent, white 'button-up' stretched across my firm, broad chest.

I feel like my head is going to explode...and the tip of my cock. I've already leaked so much pre-cum. My trousers are so done, mate (husky chuckle).

I'm spreading a leg wider for you, allowing it to fall closer to the bed. My hand is perched inside my firm thigh, traveling slowly up it. My lips are taking on sultry shapes, puckering with my lust for you.

My head is pushing back against the bed headboard, my hair still dyed black and long from playing Loki, bunched against it. I'm so hard, Melody! I'm just so fucking haaard. Ughnnn. But I don't want to touch it. I want to save it all for you, Melody.

Do you want that? I know how much you love it when I suffer...how much you love it when I make you suffer.

That is why I'm going to tie you up and force you to drink my hot tea like the very British bloke that I am.

I'm gonna claw my fingers into those '4-C' curls of yours and make you swallow Tom's big, hard cock...aaall niiight looong (just like the Mary Jane Girls song).

I'll snarl the vilest, most sinful things down at you and you will hum and whine on my stiff, veiny passion for more. Keep that wet, dripping pussy warm for Loki...

Tommy must go now but I shall return to finish this tome of a letter, in a lovely, extremely lewd heartbeat. Mmmm. You make me so hot.
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To Melody, from Thomas