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Bromance: A Hiddlesworth Story	By : flagfish Category: Casts RPF > Thor (movies) > Thor (movies) Views: 4616 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not know Chris Hemsworth or Tom Hiddleston. This story is a work of fiction, and I make no money or profit from it.

Chapter List
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- 12
Tom had gone completely quiet; he was self-conscious, but it was too good to ask Chris to stop. He wondered why no one had done this to him before, you didn’t need to like blokes for this.
He smiled widely, eyes closed, fingers clutching the upholstery, and let out a breathy laugh. “I’m really indebted to you now, aren’t I?” He could feel Chris grinning and cursed under his breath.
Why can’t we just do stuff like this? Why does it have to be actually having his cock inside me?
It sounded too ridiculous to think of. Were they just stalling? Have they already gotten cold feet and unknowingly changed their minds?
If he were with a woman, he’d let her. A woman with a strap-on, he’d let her because he wasn’t so insecure. He’d let her try what she wanted, then he’d smile with vast amusement like he were challenging her to do worse.
He’d joke about it and play to whatever fantasy she had.
……so what was the big deal now…?
Were they still just playing to Elsa’s fantasy, or were they using that to justify their own curiosity?
“How do we… how do we do this…?” Tom asked, still breathless, sounding more strained than he’d meant.
Chris was caught off guard; he slowly unraveled himself partway from beneath his legs, completely wet round the mouth, he absently licked at his lips.
“What?”
Tom’s hands were still tight on the cushions; he flushed to see him this way.
“I mean… do you just… you know… are you just going to do it?”
Chris could feel a familiar sense of dread threaten forth at the back of his mind; he paused, swiping his mouth with the back of one hand.
He’s really serious about doing this.
He struggled not to treat it as something ridiculous, the temptation to do so was almost too great.
“Don’t we— need something, like… like lotion…” He mumbled the last two words like they were incontestable evidence they weren’t kidding around.
It sounded utterly ridiculous, though. Like he were making fun of something, or imitating a caricature.
Tom's heart skipped a beat; he swallowed and fought for composure, slowly lowering his legs from the position before. “I think we’ve got some in the other room,” he said, it occurred to him it really had got warm in the room with the thermostat turned up. His legs felt numb from being held in stretched positions so long, he was reminded of the yoga training they'd been made to take long ago and wondered about being out of practice.
Strange thing to wonder in a situation like this.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror when they got there, checked out his stubble, started fixing his hair— things that happen second nature when you notice your reflection. He still felt his inner thighs wet.
This is how you looked on your last day before taking it from a guy, he thought, and he’d never forget that moment.
Chris was rummaging through the cabinet, carefully laying out unopened bottles of shampoo with names in Icelandic, then finally emerged with the container of hand lotion.
He held it up like a sign of victory, grinned, raised his eyebrows, and Tom smiled in return like he didn’t feel incredibly, utterly daft.
The light felt intense when he lay on the bed, a familiar he remembered from what they’d done before; it felt like being on an examination table at the medic’s, and the wet sound of lotion as Chris poured it on his hand didn’t help. Like the unpleasant wait just before a prostate exam.
He watched Chris’ large hands as they slicked the lotion over his member, and for a moment he felt annoyed with him, like he had the easier part and it wasn’t fair; trying to remind himself they’d decided to take turns was little consolation.
It occurred to him Chris was taking his time, he was hesitant, too, because even if he did have the easier part, once they’d done this, there was no going back.
What the hell are we doing? Why are we doing this?!
Whatever words he had in that regard never came. Chris half-smiled as in apology, not appearing very happy, he wanted to say it’s for Elsa, but it would be too ugly a lie: he couldn’t blame her for what they had decided.
“Oh, come here,” Tom sighed, he leaned up toward him and took his face in both hands. He kissed his lips, but it was little consolation to either of them; Chris was looking downward, then met his gaze, they scanned each other’s eyes. Tom kissed him again, so softly he barely touched him at all, he could feel him lightly kiss back— then he kissed his forehead, eyes closed, and said, “We want to do this.”
Chris smiled, they both quietly laughed, like a couple of adolescents experimenting while their parents weren’t home.
“You’re brilliant,” Chris said, “you really are a good guy.”
There came the cumbersome maneuver of limbs as he climbed over him, the awkward feel of sliding flesh and logistical consideration of where your legs and arms go, a graceless tangle that’s really too close and too uncomfortable; the light from the ceiling fixture was obscured by Chris’ shoulder and he was a fucking bloke.
His hair fell annoyingly in Tom’s face, he was trying to get one hand between them and they both had to shift, Tom felt somehow trapped. It was so much worse than a prostate exam.
Worst of all was the cold, wet feel of lotion when his cock slid inadvertently on Tom’s inner thigh, it seemed ridiculous he was actually going to try getting it in him.
Chris glimpsed between them, strands obscuring his face; he got his member against the small opening and murmured, “Move your legs apart more.”
“I— there’s no room, move your— ow, you’re on my leg—”
“Sorry—”
“Right— this better?”
“Bit more.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “Now?”
“That’s fine, yeah.”
Tom stilled utterly when he felt him press there again. “Okay, go,” he said, fighting audibly for composure.
It felt so horribly cold and wet.
Then he really pressed in.
Tom’s eyes went big, he inhaled quickly and said, “Okay, stop, stop.”
He did, he’d not even got the entire head in. Tom wove his arms out from between the tangle of limbs they were in and rubbed hopelessly at his eyes, “Right, okay, just— just give me a moment— okay— try again—”
“Mate, you sure? I don’t wanna like… you look really miserable.”
“No, it’s fine, just— I can do this.”
Chris appeared unconvinced; “You look like you’re in pain.”
“A little, yeah,” Tom laughed, “it’s fine, nothing too terrible.”
“You sure?”
“I already said, just go on—”
“Right, sorry.”
Tom braced himself for the next go.
The tapping sound of rain outside, leaves of ivy swaying against the window, distant swish of a car; he held his breath and endured it as long as he could before asking Chris to stop again.
“How far in is it?” he asked, eyes closed, hands tight on the sheets.
“About an inch.”
“Fucking hell, is that all?!”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck!”
“Mate, let’s stop,” Chris said, trying to make him see reason; Tom appeared decidedly dissatisfied, like here was a mark of his personal failure— but finally he consented.
“All right, okay.”
He’d not realized Chris’ thighs were pressed up on his till he moved back, there was physical relief and an odd sense of back to normal when he disentangled himself from above Tom.
He watched Chris walk nakedly toward the bathroom, there came the sound of water, he must be getting the lotion off.
Tom remained on his back, one leg bent, arm shielding his eyes from the light. Trying to get his head around what they’d done. Did this count as sex with a bloke? Did it mean they were never meant to do this in the first place, and that was why it was so impossible?
He raised his eyes to hear Chris approach, still disrobed, he leaned at the bedside and mussed Tom’s hair. “Wasn’t so great, was it?” he asked with a little smile.
Tom grinned. “Nah,” he said softly, “not really.”
“Not like when I ate you out.”
Tom stared in a moment of shock; he chuckled incredulously and rubbed hard at his eyes. “Oh… oh my god…”
They both laughed.
“No… that was well nice,” Tom murmured, still laughing, both hands still on his face. “God, listen to me…”
“We don’t have to do this if it hurts, there’s no reason,” Chris said. Tom considered it for a few moments. He got his arm over his eyes against the light again and regarded Chris from beneath it. “A lot of things hurt the first time, right, it’s a matter of practice.”
“No, no… that’s different… I really don’t fancy…” they’d fought each other plenty in the past, why did something like this feel sadistic? Because it was only painful for one of them?
“You do it to me next time,” Chris finally said; they felt tremendous compassion for each other, not because it hurt, but because they had wanted so much for this to be good— and it really, really wasn’t.
Chris felt Tom’s hand come on his wrist; he pulled him down and got one hand on his cheek, then kissed him very slowly.
They remained only millimeters apart, breath ghosting humid in the small space between them. “Well,” Tom laughed quietly, “the worst is behind us, innit? We’ve done the most intimidating part, now there’s nothing left to be afraid of.”
Chris smiled, his eyes glittered in the light from overhead. “That’s right,” he said, even though they knew they were wrong— the most intimidating part was that they really did love each other, and that was the dangerous ground that came with permission to try.
Not because of Elsa, who was completely supportive in every way— but because if you slept with a bloke, and you loved him, there was no safe detachment from how gay that was.
And they just didn’t want to see themselves that way.
(On to Chapter 12)
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A/N: You shouldn’t really use lotion for that. And you should use a condom in real life =)
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- 11
- 12
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Bromance: A Hiddlesworth Story