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. |
“I’m— getting the hang of this—” Tom laughed, having pulled out long enough to speak, he licked his lips and went for it again; Chris smiled, but he couldn’t maintain composure for long. He couldn’t help himself, his hand wandered very gently to Tom’s hair, and Tom didn’t seem to mind; he let him do it without criticism, it occurred to Chris he must like the gesture.
He was very attentive. He was careful and elegant, like it didn’t matter that he was with a guy— like he’d already mentally consented to that and treated the matter with dignity. It was curiously humbling, but it was difficult for Chris to focus on any of that, it was so fucking good.
“I really love you,” he murmured, “you’re so cool about this—”
“You’ll love me even more in a moment,” Tom said, the member emerged slick and brilliant from in-between his lips as he pulled out to talk. He took it in again, allowing it to slide very slowly until it pressed on the back of his throat, he heard Chris swear as his hand went tight in his curls.
He knew to be careful with his teeth even without having done this before, he let the member slide at his throat several times before taking it out, it was utterly wet in his hand. Chris muttered incoherent swears, past the point of shame as he whispered to Tom about how fucking good he was at that, he was giving him little instructions on what he liked better and what he ought to do.
Tom glanced incredulously, but on seeing Chris’ face, his expression faded; he truly was beautiful at that moment, bloke or not.
“Darling—”
The word issued as of its own accord, Tom rose to his knees and took Chris’ face with both hands, hungrily seizing his mouth.
He could feel his neglected cock wet against his own trousers, on the flat of his abdomen, it was insistent and hot; he’d almost stopped caring he was with a guy, too.
There came Chris’ strong arms all around him, he knew his touch well, they fell gracelessly on the mattress—
—then it was sex with clothes on. They kissed relentlessly, with all the frustration and hunger that everyone saw but they, themselves;
“F—fuck—”
Chris muttered, he’d pressed himself against him hard enough the bed frame clumsily knocked on the wall, they were beyond the point of caring about that; soon both their hands scrambled at Tom’s belt, they’d got his trousers somewhere around mid-thigh, and far from awkward embarrassment Tom was now openly asking Chris to do it.
“What, take you in my mouth?” Chris breathed, and Tom cursed and muttered, “Yes—”
There was no weirdness this time; he went for it without further questions, Tom accommodated helpfully, there came the feathery slide of Chris’ hair on his thighs—
“Oh—”
“Like this?”
“—please—”
Tom’s hand was infinitely gentle in Chris’ hair, like it were a thing of virginal chastity, childlike affection and innocent love, because even while they both were in their thirties, this they’d never done before.
This, with another guy.
It went from something ridiculous and uncomfortable to the most intimate sort of trust, they were the exception they each would make, entirely vulnerable and tender.
There issued wet, profane sounds as Chris had at him, large hands strong on Tom’s hips, and even though he’d never done this, he wanted to have him so fucking bad.
He wanted to take care of him, to console him about things that required no consolation, for the first time in his life he felt pitiful that he hadn’t a clue what to do with a bloke.
“You’re doing lovely,” Tom reassured him without being prompted, his voice came brittle and soft, one hand paternal in Chris’ hair; he could barely speak between breaths.
There came the most delicate, fragile sort of heartache; “It’s all right,” Tom gently said, “you’ve always been mine.”
(On to Chapter 8)
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