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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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The sheets were in utter disarray. Chris had got his hands on Tom’s hips and had lifted his lower body entirely off the mattress, he held him pressed to his mouth with his legs gracelessly strewn over his shoulders. They’d both got terribly messy, the fluid dripped wetly down Chris’ mandible to his chest, he sucked loudly at him, obscenely, trying to lick it all out of him
It was a strained position for Tom. He and Chris had joked about being lifted like this, and he completely knew Chris had it in him, but he didn't think they really were going to do it; without question, it got him hot. He was so vulnerably exposed, but he liked the way Chris held him: it was practically effortless, he could tell. It felt somehow secure.
The liquid trailed down his behind, warmer now, Chris’ humid breath and the brush of his stubble; he’d got his tongue in him all the way and lapped at him from the inside. Tom remained stunned somehow, uncertain how to take all this, utterly embarrassed but so bloody turned on.
“F…fucking put me down—”
He muttered, but he may well have said I’ll kill you if you stop. His hands gripped uselessly at the sheets, he could feel his cock wet on his own abdomen.
Chris was utterly graceless about it, he had mercilessly at the flesh, entirely wet round the mouth; he held him up with one arm round the abdomen. He got his finger in him and slid it in all the way, and muttered, “There’s still so much cream inside—”
The digit went readily in, wet sounds emanating profanely, rivulets of fluid glittering down Tom’s naked skin.
“I’m doing this to you later, all of it,” Tom murmured between breaths, his voice came strained with the way Chris had him bent, “I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna lift me? Like this?”
“Exactly—”
The digit emerged slick from inside him, the melted cream streaming down Chris’ hand to his wrist; he finally put Tom down on the mattress, then leaned over to seize his mouth.
He got both hands on his cheeks and kissed him wetly, “Tell her about this,” he said.
There was no preamble after that.
Their hands scrambled impatiently between them, both going for Chris’ member, it slipped wetly against Tom’s thighs and missed before they’d managed to get it in.
“It’s— it’s fine, it’s in, you can—”
Chris might have tried to go slowly, but it slid so readily inside he’d not stopped himself.
“Oh— sh—”
he muttered, it was a rushed and clumsy ordeal, both rendered speechless by how naturally compelled they felt to keep going and by how all right it felt.
No words were exchanged for some time; only the primal obscenity of sex, the profane sound of flesh striking wetly on flesh, the unbearably ridiculous creaking of bed springs and scraping of the headboard on the wall; Tom was entirely too stunned to know what to make of it. There was the impulse to be as cool about it as he made himself about any outlandish challenge while acting, but the sheer vulnerability of it was something he hadn’t known before: it was impossible to suppress or deny.
Chris was so bloody powerful. It was intimidating somehow, the impact of him, the way he had him in his grasp, even easy as it was to get lost in the physical act. Tom could see him get into it, like he’d successfully overcome any awareness this wasn't just the way he usually bedded someone, and it was somehow unfair— because he had the easier part, after all.
Tom had never been through something like this; he had nearly no control over how he was moved or held, it occurred to him he was mentally planning to ask Elsa after the fact if it was like this when she got with Chris.
All in all, though, it went without saying that it was good. They both knew it; they carried on relentlessly, breathlessly, gripping each other without shame, Chris was entirely damp with exertion. His skin had gone slick, Tom could feel the heat of him when he leaned close, getting his arms under him for a better grip; he struck against him hard enough Tom would be red and raw the next day, Chris’ hair adhered disheveled to his temples.
He muttered to Tom about how he was going to come, the words fragmented, his teeth came clenched; there was something almost selfish about it. When he finally stopped and hung his head weakly above him, Tom was aware he’d been thoroughly fucked.
Chris stumbled tiredly as he tried to maneuver his limbs from over him, he fell clumsily to the sheets at Tom’s side, spent and damp, catching his breath; “Don’t… say anything…” he murmured against the sheets, “I would have been… just as… it would've been fine… if you did it to me…”
“It wasn't bad,” Tom said with a little smile, though he was distinctly aware of being frightfully messy, he could feel the fluid stream hotly from inside him. “Reckon next time I— you know, next time I’m with a woman, I’ll have to ask her to do this… you know… this… ice lolly…thing…”
“That’s crucial.”
“I’ll have to explain— right— see, Chris did this to me—”
“And now I have to have it.”
“Exactly, there you go!”
“Now I can’t… go without…”
Chris still was catching his breath. There wasn't really enough room on the bed for them to lie comfortably, they were a bit crowded while resting after the fact. Tom turned his head sideward to smile at Chris, they laughed knowingly, like they were partners in crime.
“I have to admit, that was good,” Chris said, his voice came low and measured.
Tom’s laugh came with combined amusement and embarrassment, he had one arm over his abdomen and gazed at the ceiling in the dark. “All right, maybe a little,” he agreed, “Fucking hell, you just— lifted me—”
“I lift you all the time.”
“You do not.”
“All the time.”
“Oh, sod off.”
Tom thought he’d never needed a shower more badly; but, even so, they both felt so lethargic after the fact they drifted off as they were, slippery and damp. It wasn't even that late. Chris awoke sometime in the night, disoriented and sleepy, he was aware of Tom passed out at his side; it was unexpectedly pleasant, he grinned inwardly to remember all they’d done. They’d slept together properly, and the warm thrill of it overwhelmed even the insecurity that it was gay in every sense of the word.
Tom was out cold, lain in the narrow space between Chris and the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, snoring lightly. He’d really been such a good sport about everything, more courageous than Chris in agreeing to take all that, in actually offering so Chris wouldn't have to. He’d redeemed himself for making Chris suffer the week before.
Chris turned on his side toward him, his hands slid to the small of Tom’s back, he was warm from the heating that still was humming in the background. He really had got used to having his arms around him from their work together on set, and was surprised by how unexpectedly familiar this was. Chris kissed his forehead very lightly, his large hands trailed to Tom’s behind where still he was wet at the thighs, he murmured, “I've made such a right mess of you.”
There was undeniable contentment to his tone.
Very gently, he slid one digit between his inner thighs to his entrance, holding him very close while carefully urging the slick fluid out. Funny how possessive he felt, like he’d got him messy, so it was his responsibility to properly clean him now; Tom was so soundly asleep he barely stirred.
“This is awful,” Chris whispered very quietly, “it just makes me wanna do it again.”
It was all right. It wasn't gay because Elsa wanted them to.
His fingers were very gentle inside him, careful not to hurt or wake him— but even when he moved very far in, Tom didn't wake up; he really was exhausted. “I promise, next time you can do it to me,” Chris murmured, “you can both do it to me.”
(On to Chapter 20)
A/N: If anyone likes RPing these two, please let me know! (Contact info on my profile)
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Bromance: A Hiddlesworth Story