Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Elsa was on the phone with the cable company, she was on hold so long her ear began to hurt; Tom and Chris had come in after playing rugby in the garden, they headed to the kitchen for drinks, flushed in the face with exertion. She observed them laughing, Chris had got Tom under his arm and made to rub his head, “You lot and your...” Elsa paced into the kitchen with the phone still at her ear, “you don’t get anything done unless I’m there to tell you.”
Chris released Tom and stepped back a little to let her through, Tom proceeded to the fridge.
“You’re only here two weeks,” Elsa said, “I don’t have that kind of patience.” She pressed the phone to her ear with one shoulder and got her hands on Chris’ shirt, she pulled it over his head as in matter of habit and it tore a bit at the front.
“Woah, heyyy…” Chris said, his T-shirt was something small and insignificant in his large hands when he held it up, Tom chuckled into the soda he had poured for himself.
“I liked that shirt,” Chris said, and Elsa replied, “I’ll buy you a new one." She turned to Tom and asked, "See how good he looks?”
“But why did… was it really necessary to tear it?” Tom asked, he watched her run her palms over Chris’ chest with utter contentment. “You guys should play rugby like this. Naked,” she said. Tom could tell she was vastly satisfied to have prized Chris as her husband, she wanted to show him off.
“Now you do him,” she said to Chris, meaning for him to take off Tom’s shirt; Tom carefully held his arms over his chest, protective. “I’d really rather have it in one piece, if that’s all right,” he warned.
“I’ll be very gentle,” Chris said, Tom deliberately held his arms up like a child so Chris could pull his shirt off. “Not like that!” Elsa cried, “That’s not sexy.”
“You heard her,” Chris shrugged, and Tom shrugged back, “Yeah, it’s not, is it?” He proceeded to bend forth with his arms straight out, looking even more childish. “Right, then; pull.”
“No! Come on!” Elsa whined, Chris got one hand on Tom’s shoulder and straightened him, he got one arm round his abdomen from behind and tugged his shirt upward.
Tom laughed as he was awkwardly caught inside the fabric, his hair went a bit messy when Chris had got it off. “Still in one piece, see?” Chris asked, appearing pleased. He raised his eyebrows at Elsa and twirled the shirt around one finger, whistling.
“All right, well good,” Tom smiled, he made to grab it, there came a brisk strike of flesh when he gripped Chris’ wrist.
Elsa was loving this, she was blatantly ogling Tom’s naked chest, mentally praising herself for getting him to disrobe in her own kitchen. “Can I touch it?” She asked without hesitation, “your chest, I mean.”
Tom almost nodded before fully processing what she had asked; his voice died momentarily in his throat and he regarded Chris uncertainly. For some reason, Chris felt this got him hot— and Tom had somehow got a bit shy: he’d been holed up with Chris so long, it felt like ages since he’d been with a woman. He wondered if being slapped on set counted, he’d certainly liked that enough.
Chris saw Tom was conflicted; “It’s her choice, mate,” he said, it occurred to Tom that Chris wanted to watch this.
It wasn't really Tom’s choice anymore, either.
Elsa was smiling widely, she was reaching for him and murmured, “I've always wanted to do this.”
Tom watched as her hands came on his chest with visible appreciation, he liked it almost as well as he liked being slapped; Chris had got his hand on hers, he leaned forth and seized Tom’s mouth, then kissed his neck. Tom was pressed back against the pantry, he liked this more than he thought he should.
“I want to see you kissing,” Elsa said, she gently got her hands on their cheeks and prompted them together, they were aroused enough they had at each other almost aggressively. Elsa's hands ran over Tom's chest, the bony ridges of his ribs, the flat of his abdomen, the inguina and iliac crest at his hip; she knew she and Chris were lucky.
“I want him to fuck you,” she said to Chris, Tom had his arms loosely around both their hips, he murmured between kisses that “Chris doesn't know how—”
“He’s a virgin that way,” Elsa said, and hearing her say that got Chris rock hard. He released Tom breathlessly and leaned toward her, he grinned against her mouth when they kissed; “You gonna teach me?” he asked, remembering what Tom had said once about but what if it’s a woman doing it?
She laughed and got her hand on Chris’ ass, “Yeah, we’ll both teach you.”
On the counter, her phone was still badly emitting elevator music, interrupted now and again by a message in Spanish about how important to the cable company her call presumably was; she picked it up and held it to her ear, she’d already been on hold for over ten minutes. “Let’s take him upstairs,” she said to Chris, she motioned with her hand for them to move and began to follow behind them while still listening to the phone, attention partly diverted.
“What are we doing? Wait—” Tom said, he was slowly disentangling himself from Chris and reaching for his soda again, “Not even finished my drink—”
“Bring it with you,” Elsa said, she continued goading them out of the kitchen and then in the direction of the stairs. Finally she got through on the line, she began talking in Spanish and was still at it after she’d got them in the master bedroom; Tom was now stood in place and slowly turning his gaze around the large room, it was very impressively decorated.
“This is like something out of a palace,” he mumbled, Chris was clearly well cared for here. Elsa observed out the corner of her eye as Chris took Tom on a miniature tour, out to the balcony and adjoining office, her closet which was really an entire separate room: she loved her shoes and clothes almost as much as she loved her husband.
She cupped her hand on the phone and called out to them, “Don’t do anything while I can’t see…!”
“This is just… absolutely brilliant,” Tom said with a note of humility, because it wasn’t just extravagance: it was clear that painstaking efforts had been made with the tasteful architecture and style. At his side, Chris felt somehow proud of Elsa’s talent for aesthetics, even while he made sure to explain he knew nothing about this sort of thing and that none of it was his doing.
She had the house designed according to her wishes, and he was another decoration in it.
While still on the phone, Elsa paced toward Chris and nudged her head in Tom’s direction; she mouthed the words, take that off, and motioned to Tom’s trousers. She nudged Chris’ shoulder gently while continuing with the cable company, then mouthed to him, Go!
Chris and Tom both gazed down at Tom’s belt momentarily, then they regarded each other, then turned to look at Elsa; did she really just tell them to do that? Tom still was stealing glances around the room, at the large canopied bed, the balcony overlooking the city, the skylight in the high ceiling above; Chris tackled him in what seemed like a continuation of their roughhousing after rugby.
They tried to keep it down while wrestling because Elsa was still on the phone, there came occasional intakes of breath and the sound of their feet on the floor, their hands when they grabbed each other.
The wooden posts rattled when Tom managed to slam Chris on the mattress, and Elsa watched in a daze, not really listening to the cable representative; she paced dreamlike to the bed and absently hung up, mid-conversation.
“Don’t record this,” Chris said with one finger pointed, he was lain beneath Tom with one arm round his thigh, like he was about to pick him up that way. Elsa appeared crestfallen, phone dangling from one hand. “Why not?” she asked with audible disappointment, and now both Tom and Chris were protesting.
“You get to watch this now! That’s better than recording!” Chris said.
“But just for future reference…”
“That is going to end up all over…” Tom pointed one finger at her phone, “…Tumblr…”
At the same time, Chris said, “Youtube” and Elsa said, “Twitter.”
“It’ll end up on all of those sites,” Tom concluded, and Elsa thought sadly of all the women who would now be deprived of witnessing this magical moment.
“Wait, you were gonna upload it to Twitter?!” Tom asked, and now Chris asked, “You can upload videos to Twitter?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tom huffed, with so much emphasis it was clear he’d had some experience with this before.
“But I told you to take his pants off,” Elsa said, and now Chris had his finger pointed. “First put away the phone…”
“I am not recording anything!” She insisted, but finally she put the phone at the bedside table.
“I don’t think it’s far enough away,” Tom said, and Elsa regarded him desperately. “What, you really think I’m—”
“All the way on the other side of the room,” Chris spoke up, and finally Elsa consented, because it was hard to decline any requests with the two of them tangled half-naked like that. She climbed down from the bed and took her phone to the vanity table at the opposite end of the room, making a point of leaving it there. “Happy?” she asked, partly disappointed because she had been hoping to grab it for just the tiniest video.
“Very happy,” Chris replied. Tom asked, “Reckon she has a second phone somewhere?” and Elsa whined with so much exasperation both he and Chris began to laugh.
“We’re just taking the piss…” Chris said, he amicably rubbed at her arm.
“You've tormented me enough, now you owe me,” she pouted, and now both Chris and Tom were sighing like they were terribly burdened with this.
“Well… if we absolutely must…” Tom resigned. Whatever Elsa might have said next never came; she watched slack-jawed when they kissed, like she wasn't sure how to handle how hot this was.
“I want you guys naked,” she mumbled, and Tom laughed in embarrassment at how direct it was; he rubbed hard at his eyes, Chris wasn't certain if he really was meant to disrobe him.
“Oh, come on…!” Elsa cried, “not like I haven’t seen you naked in— in— what film was that—”
“Unrelated,” Chris supplied, and Tom piped up, “That’s different…!”
“You’re right, it was too short,” Elsa said, and then quickly added, “The scene! The scene was too short!”
“Ohhh!” Chris laughed, now pointing at Tom, “Burn…!”
“Now that is utter bollocks,” Tom grinned, all three of them were blushing; “The scene was... gargantuan. It was— what are you doing?”
His hands came on Chris’ hands on Tom’s belt.
“Well, I thought…” Chris said with innocent confusion.
“Just— just give me a moment,” Tom replied, he closed his eyes and inhaled, then exhaled very slowly. “All right. All right, go.”
Elsa watched as Chris’ large hands came on Tom’s belt, carefully undoing the buckle; Chris turned his head sideward to her and winked, then proceeded with the button and fly, he said amicably, “Let’s get you out of this.”
Tom accommodated, moving down from over Chris and helping him pull his jeans off his legs, they fell to the mattress with a low metallic clink.
Elsa was staring without shame, fingertips over her mouth; she was so fucking happy.
“Right, now you,” Tom said to Chris, he turned to Elsa momentarily; “You fancy seeing me do this, don’t you?” He got his hands on Chris’ belt like they still were wrestling, they fought each other’s grasp before Chris let him at it. Elsa helped Tom in getting Chris’ jeans off, and without further discussion she was tugging at Chris’ boxers.
This was weird for Chris, because even though he was comfortable with each of them seeing him naked, it was weird to have them see him naked together.
“What, come on, it’s not a big deal,” Elsa said when Chris tugged upward at his shorts; she was trying to pull them down. “He saw you, and you saw him, and it’s not any different—”
“She’s really impatient,” Tom remarked, and Elsa huffed, “But I’m right! You guys have already—”
“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Chris smiled, he let her pull them off the rest of the way; they got caught a bit at his feet and she unraveled them clumsily.
“See, you’re just a big baby,” she said and tossed Chris' boxers at his head.
“He is a big baby,” Tom agreed with civil cordiality, like he were the very voice of reason— but soon he came to regret this. He was aware by the turn of events he was meant to disrobe now, and it wouldn't be a big deal if Elsa wasn't dying to witness it with such obvious impatience: it made him feel much more naked and vulnerable than that scene in Unrelated.
“She really wants to see this, mate,” Chris said, and Tom laughed in pretense of utter astonishment. “Does she?” he asked. He didn't interfere when Chris reached for his shorts, but Elsa spoke up.
“Wait—!” she said, “can I do it?”
Tom laughed pitifully, he rubbed hard at his eyes with both hands. This would be much easier if it were just acting.
He sighed, stalling for a long time under the awareness that a decision was expected of him. “Fine,” he murmured from behind his hands.
Elsa didn’t need to be told twice; she was utterly thrilled. She advanced toward him like a birthday girl just before opening a present, and regarded him with a smile. “Thank you!”
Tom observed her, somehow helpless, he met Chris’ gaze and laughed; she was so careful in pulling off his boxers, she stared at him like she was famished.
“Chris, come here,” she whispered, then tugged him by the wrist and pulled him beside her; Tom wasn’t certain what to make of it. He no longer knew whether he was uncomfortable or aroused, or if he was allowed to be aroused in a situation like this. Elsa didn’t ask permission; she got her hand on his cock, and he was too late in stopping her.
“It’s so perfect,” she said, but she would have said so regardless of what his cock had been like.
“Thanks,” he smiled ironically, aware somewhere in the back of his mind he had every permission to enjoy it when a woman had her hand on him, but—
But what?
Chris was completely aroused watching this; he leaned forth to kiss Elsa, it occurred to Tom he’d not seen them kiss so passionately in front of him. It was something too intimate to do in public, and he would have felt left out if they weren’t doing it within millimeters of his cock.
He was hard despite himself.
“It looks so good, doesn’t it,” she whispered to Chris, Tom could feel her breath on him, her familiar accent sounded different somehow. She took him in her mouth with aching desperation, Tom’s eyes went big and he struggled uselessly to hold her back, but didn’t really fight it.
“Sh— shit—!” he swore, you really never turned down getting head, even if clearly she was doing this completely to satisfy herself. She emerged from it breathless, like she had to force herself to stop, she murmured to Chris, “Come here, now you.”
Somehow, there was old familiarity here; somehow, the prospect of Chris doing it felt safer. Tom’s hand came in Chris’ hair with knowing affection, he grinned toothily at him. “He’s quite good at this, you know,” he said to Elsa, aware how much she must enjoy this, “doesn’t fancy the taste, though.”
Elsa chuckled, of course she never forgot what they had told her after their first experiment with foreplay. “You’re not meant to tell him that, stupid,” she grinned while kissing Chris’ cheek.
After that, she gently pressed him a bit forth, impatient to see him do it.
Tom had meant to amuse Elsa, the way he gently caressed Chris’ hair when he took him in his mouth— but, despite himself, there was genuine sentiment in it. His fingers moved with innocent fondness on Chris’ cheek, he whispered, “Darling—”
It was so obvious, Elsa could see plainly; they really were in love.
(On to Chapter 23)
--
A/N: I had mentioned elsewhere I wanted to see a picture of 26-year-old Tilda comforting 6-year-old Tom after he got lost in a mall or something (as she's 20 years his elder irl). I was very pleasantly surprised when the super awesome Wordgotaround actually went ahead and drew this, all my feels from Only Lovers Left Alive came back:
http://wordgotaround.tumblr.com/post/85168375344/
Thank you!!
- 21
- 22
- 23
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Bromance: A Hiddlesworth Story