Chapter 22
As Vanessa secured you both into the elevator, she rattled on about the timeline for the next day. Tom had made it a point to keep the majority of the events earlier on in the morning and leave the late afternoons and evenings free. Everyone he shared a panel with had the same thought process. He had even heard mentions of a MCU party occurring over the weekend. He had chosen not to mention anything to you just yet about it, namely because there hadn’t been time.
You left it to Tom to continue listening to Vanessa, as you took the moment to stare at your locked hands. Not realizing that Tom had been watching you the entirety of the elevator ride. He caught the small moment when your lips curled up into a smile at the mere sight of your hands together. Giving a gentle squeeze, he watched as your eyes snapped up to his, glassing over just slightly. It seemed rather ridiculous for you to ever say you were his, when one look at you had him speechless. He was most definitely yours .
Unable to stop himself, despite Vanessa still talking away, which he was unfortunately not as keen to pay attention to this time, Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, noting how you breathed in deeply and even inched closer to him. The safety he seemingly provided by just his presence was incredible. Not safety as though he was going to protect you from some unwanted creature, but rather that he would save you from yourself— your darkest thoughts .
“I’ll um, you know, see you tomorrow then. I’ll come by the room to get you over to the other hotel, Tom,” Vanessa concluded, feeling as though she was intruding on the intimacy of the exchange. Sensing the end of the conversation and the elevator ride itself, you both emerged from this bubble you had created around yourselves, whereas only you two existed. “Will you be here tomorrow morning, Y/N?” she asked out of necessity rather than gossip. There would not be a repeat of today, if she had anything to say for it.
Tom assumed he knew the answer, stepping out of the elevator with your hand still in his. Your response, however, took him by surprise.
“I’ll probably just meet you at the panel. Don’t worry about me. The Sheraton, right?” you questioned, not seeing how Tom’s shoulders visibly stiffened at your response.
“That’s right. Ballroom A,” Vanessa nodded.
“Perfect. See you then! Thank you for everything, Vanessa,” you called out, to which Tom seemed to be pulled back from his thoughts, giving his thanks to the woman as well.
As you two walked in silence, Tom couldn’t seem to figure out where he had made his mistake. Had it not been established that you two would be spending all your time together imaginable? Did that not mean you would be staying with him for the entirety of the weekend? Did you not want to stay with him? The nauseating thought did occur to him that he had merely assumed you would want to stay with him rather than outright ask you.
But then, was he to ask a woman he had just met to stay the night with him? That was rather forward. Yet, you weren’t just any woman. You were the woman he loved—but also just happened to be someone he met face to face earlier today.
The more he fell down the rabbit hole, the more unaware of his surroundings he became. You had managed to unlock the hotel room door, set your purse to the side, and ramble on about how different it was to see the “behind the scenes” side of things when it came to the photography sessions. You had only known the waiting in line bit and shelling out hundreds of dollars to get your picture taken with a stranger. You even threw in a couple of jokes, but when it was clear that Tom wasn’t paying attention, curiosity overcame you—and perhaps a bit of your bratty tendencies.
“And that’s ultimately why I think we should get naked right now,” and to anyone who had been listening to the conversation, they would have instantly spotted the non sequitur.
“That’s fine, love,” a distant answer as you watched him fumble around his luggage, until he settled on a small leather bag about the size of one of your cosmetics bags.
“Tom!” a little louder than your previous remarks, enough so to cause him to jump and drop the case.
“What?!” trying to disguise the shock with subtle aggravation.
“I just suggested we get naked and I’m hoping your lack of enthusiasm is because you didn’t hear me,” hands fixed to your hips as you even went so far as to give a little tap with your shoe.
Had he thought for a moment you had been serious, he would have maneuvered his way out of his darkness, seeking your light. However, Tom was left more confused than before. Comments about being naked, taking naps together, being locked away in the hotel room for hours on end—and yet you didn’t want to stay the night with him?
“Have I done something wrong?” came the vulnerable question you weren’t expecting to hear. His hands had come down to rest on either side of him, the exhaustion evident in every aspect of his demeanor.
All you wanted to do was rest your hands upon his cheeks and soothe him—and right as that thought entered your mind you remembered that you could actually partake in such thoughts now. A swift motion across the room, only stopping when your body met his, lifting to your tiptoes to wrap one arm around his neck to snake fingers through unruly tendrils while the other hand found solace against his cheek. The act alone was not enough to ease the tension you felt in his frame.
“I didn’t want to have to say this, but if you could lighten up on the accent. That’d be great. We get it. You’re hot ,” you joked, but it was only met with a roll of the eyes as to say ‘be serious’. “What could you have possibly done wrong?” showing that your joke was not made from deflection but rather confusion.
Suddenly, it all felt very embarrassing. To admit aloud that he had assumed you would stay the night with him. Of course that was too much too soon. Of course he should have asked—and had he been a little more rested, he would have simply asked you then and there what your plans were as opposed to the dramatics. “Never mind. It’s hardly an issue,” as he backed away from your embrace.
The shock on your face from his deflection was clear. Normally it was you doing the deflecting. “Yeah. I’m not buying that for a second. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing, love,” he waved, moving towards the room’s vanity where he proceeded to unpack the small pouch which contained a glasses case and contact case.
“It’s nothing, love,” you mimicked, your British accent having never improved no matter how long you spent talking to Tom. “Go on,” you urged, even though Tom had made it well known that he didn’t wish to speak about the topic. Did that stop you? Nope.
As silly as this little argument was, it was rather comforting to know that your shared ability to bicker hadn’t been lost when in each other’s presence.“I thought you had plans to arrange…,” working on changing out his contacts and instead donning his glasses.
“I did until I inadvertently caused my boyfriend to panic over something that I haven’t a clue about—”
“I’m not panicking—”
“Looks like panicking—”
“I’m fine!”
“I’m fine!” you mocked.
“Is that your British accent?”
“No, it’s Australian. I thought it suited the moment better,” your sarcastic remark only leading to frustrate both of you. Now that Tom had his glasses on, he stood before you at his full height–somehow the argument had given him a bit more life.
And damn , did you hate how good he looked in his glasses as well. It didn’t help matters that looking back at you were stormy blue eyes that had absolutely had enough of your bullshit right now. Your own eyes betrayed your frustration too, sliding down the length of his body to notice just how wonderfully the dark wash jeans hugged every foot of him. The pictures and gifs you had accidentally stumbled upon online, featuring his noticeable bulge could not accurately do him justice. Before your eyes could look anywhere else—
“Did you just lick your lips?” came his incredulous question, brows arched in speculation over the action.
Startled and very much not wishing to think your body was acting on its own accord, you denied it. “No!” crossing your arms, yet your eyes fell right back to the bulge, and—
“You did it again!” he remarked, to which he also noticed how you attempted to subtly press your legs together as you stood before him. The urge to strangle you was being overpowered with his desires and the pressing need to explore beyond the skirt of your dress. The image of your inevitably soft thighs cradling his mouth as he explored your depths with his tongue was enough to make him—
“ Oh, fuck me...” astonishment thick in your voice as it became very obvious by Tom’s constricting pants that he was as equally turned on as you were.
“Is that a request ?” moving towards you with frustration riddling his features, but did you detect a hint of desperation in his voice? “Is that what you want ?” And had his desire for you not literally been throbbing in his pants, he may have taken a different approach to this conversation. Ignore it all together? His British demeanor almost dictated such an act.
But you were thoroughly confused—and turned on. “What do you mean, ‘ is that what I want ’?” you asked, clearly flustered. “Let me get this straight. Are you asking me if I want you to fuck me ?” Was this your actual life…? “My lips are getting chapped from all the licking I’m doing just by looking down at your pants and you think I don’t want to ride your face?”
The brashness did leave Tom wincing for a moment, and again, had his body not ached for you, he surely would have continued to push this conversation aside. He was just about to ask why you hadn’t planned to be here in the morning when his eyes began to rival that of any cartoon wolf at your current actions. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Tom?” you shot back, having already taken off your shoes and tossed them aside. Now you worked on unclasping the belt around your waist that you had used to give the illusion of an exaggerated hourglass figure. Luckily, your frustrations overshadowed any sort of concern you may have felt about getting undressed in front of the celebrity.
“So, you do want me to take you?” he clarified, desperate to seek a solid answer from you. In the midst of his own question, he began to unbutton his dress shirt and discard it to the side.
Rolling your eyes as you started to shimmy out of your dress, “take me where?” Was it a jab at his politeness? A bit, yes.
The display was absolutely ridiculous as the two of you stood a good five feet apart, undressing yourselves while maintaining your banter back and forth. Tom, wanting to only know if he was doing the right thing, and you, unreservedly bewildered that he would ever think you didn’t want him . Throughout the undressing, your frustrations and desires had risen, resulting in quick breaths and an almost immunity towards the acts of the other, until finally—you stood there in nothing but your black lace bra and the one pair of matching underwear you owned, as Tom towered in a white undershirt and dark blue boxer briefs.
As if on cue, you both realized just how very little either of you were wearing resulting in a near catapult towards one another. Hands desperately wanting to touch, feel , every single inch of one another. Tom had managed to take off his glasses before too much searching had occurred. You stepped on Tom’s toes as you attempted to move even closer to him, causing a mild grunt. He played it off, lifting his hand to push back strands of your dark locks, only to be met with your elbow as you moved to make a similar gesture.
“Will you fucking stay still?” He begged with all the politeness one man could muster after wrestling inner demons, standing before a gorgeous nearly naked woman, with only having a couple hours of sleep.
And you should have had some pity on him. You weren’t making this easy on him, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard… it’s not my job to make it easy . Coupled with his use of the word ‘fucking’, strangely not hearing it all that often, you could not stop the next words from leaving your mouth.
“ Make me. ”
Before you knew it, Tom lifted you with an ease that you swore couldn’t be done, and a more confident person would have accepted the gesture more gracefully rather than squeak the way you did. Your legs naturally wrapped around Tom’s lean torso, dreading the idea that he’d possibly be hurt in the process of carrying you—but luckily his words pulled you from your insecurity.
“For once ,” voice thick with need. “Will you just do what I ask of you?” The desperation was back although masked with a longing that was nearly tangible. His eyes were the darkest you had ever seen, staring at you with such an intensity that could have been mistaken for intimidation. Not you. “When I ask you a bloody question— answer it ,” he ordered, walking you both backwards as you were securely in his embrace. Any other time, you would have teased him for using the term ‘bloody’. Going full Brit now.
“When I tell you to drop a subject— drop it ,” and with such incredible timing, he did indeed drop you onto his bed, earning another squeak on your part. You were fully prepared for him to pin you down, force you not to move as he so clearly had wanted you to do, but instead he was on the edge of the bed, kneeling before you . Taking your legs and bringing them to each rest upon a shoulder, he spoke against your inner thigh, sending vibrations all the way through your core.
“When I say ‘I love you’---,” and you didn’t know it was possible for your heart to quicken and stop all at once. You were already soaking the delicate fabric between your legs before he even touched you. Now, you prayed not to come by the mere suggestion of love .
You knew what he was referring to though. He had mouthed the phrase when you two first saw one another at the panel. You tried to convince yourself that you made a mistake. He couldn’t have possibly said that. He barely knew you , lying to yourself. He couldn’t love you , another lie you formulated to protect your hopes.
Lifting his head to point those dark orbs at you once more, your breathing making a full stop. The darkness didn’t vanish, nor did the incessant desire for you–but you did see the wheels turning at how to end his sentence. As though he told himself now isn’t the right time . “Stay with me tonight,” was his addition, softer than his previous statements.
Shifting to your elbows to get a better look at him, confusion written all over your face. “I thought I was already going to….” Had you misunderstood him?
The color drained from his face, your thighs still perched along his shoulders. Again, you wondered if you two would ever be the sort of people who made love the way Tom did in his movies. So far it was closer to a comedy act than anything else. “But you told Vanessa you wouldn’t be here in the morning?”
And suddenly it all made sense. His distance. The sullen mood that had come over him. You couldn’t help but smile softly. “Did you want me to advertise that we’re sleeping together?” you grinned, biting at your bottom lip teasingly. “Alright, let me go and get the sharpie. I’ll write it on our badges,” a joke as you slipped your legs off his shoulders, making the motion to hop up from the bed.
But as soon as your legs fell against the comforter, Tom was atop of you. His weight pinning you down as his lips captured yours. The kiss was one filled with relief and understanding. You were planning to stay all along. Your questions to Vanessa were to keep some privacy between you, something that you knew Tom would appreciate. Hindsight, your little cover-up should have been discussed with your boyfriend.
“Do you have any bags?” he asked between rushed kisses.
“In my car,” you answered breathlessly. “I’ll get them later.” Your hands hurriedly worked on taking off Tom’s undershirt, tossing it across the room. His hands were busy trying to undo your bra, while also attempting to kiss you. If someone didn’t ask the question— “Condom?”
There was a delayed reaction as Tom processed the question. You knew the answer without even needing to hear it, judging by the way he slipped off beside you, groaning face first into the comforter. “You wouldn’t happen to be on birth control?” he finally offered, still facedown.
“That would be a negative, Ghost Rider,” a sigh escaping your lips as you rotated in the bed until you were resting on your stomach, elbow propping you up as you watched Tom’s breathing begin to regulate.
“One time doesn’t seem like–,” he tried, to which you quickly shot down.
“Don’t even think about it. With our luck—.”
“Twins. I know, darling.”
“Don’t even speak it into the world,” you suggested, leaning over to give him a quick peck against his temple. “We’ll go out tonight and I’ll grab the biggest box of condoms the store offers. Something really obscene,” a little tease, trying to bring some light to the situation.
When Tom didn’t respond, you watched as his body gave gentle rises and falls. Your suspicions were confirmed when the soft snores began. All you could do was smile and be grateful that he didn’t fall asleep while having sex. That would have been your luck.