#tom (make up) x reader
Text
Worth the Wait
Pairing: Tom Grant x f!bartender!Reader
Genre: smut
Tags:Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv (pulling out)
Summary: Your favourite customer has a confession to make, that he's very eager to. You wish you could believe him - if only he weren't drunk every time he saw you.
Word count:7.1k
A/N: God, this fic's been a long time in the making! I started writing it months ago, but then @choke-me-eddie wrote the phenomenal Jack Daniels and Coke and I gave myself massive imposter syndrome for ages lol, but one day I was going through my WIPs folder and something told me to start this up again. So, here it is!
PS: the amount of time i spent on making that gif look like he's getting himself off for more than like 4 frames before feckin roof gets in the way, as naturally as i could get it, is between me and god. 😂
“Hello again, gorgeous,” your favourite voice slurs from the other side of the bar.
You see big, warm brown eyes greet you along with the biggest grin you’ve seen all day and your heart melts, despite the pang of disappointment. “Hello yourself, sweetheart. Back to drown more of your troubles?”
“Can I not just come over to my favourite pub and chat to my favourite barmaid, with no ulterior motive?” he pouts, leaning an elbow on the bar so he can rest his chin on his fist, a trademark pose for Tom.
“Not when you’re already pretty wavy,” you point out with raised eyebrows, wafting the air in front of him. “I can smell the Fosters on you a mile off. Didn’t take you for a piss drinker.”
He pulls a face, “Weren’t my doing, honest. Some of the blokes at work decided to get together an’ have dinner somewhere, an’ they bought everyone a pint each without asking us. I had to sneak in a couple of shots to take the taste away and then they bought another, so I had to drink even more.”
“Your life is so hard, babe,” you pout patronisingly, and he sticks his tongue out at you in response. You pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. “Here. On the house, and that’s a deal only my favourite customers get.”
He looks at you disbelievingly. “As if water isn’t free for everybody, good one.” You smile back at him with just as much snark as he’s giving you as he drinks it all down in one go, and you take the excuse to watch his throat bob while he’s distracted.
You’ve always had a soft spot for Tom. Ever since the poor sod ended up at your pub following the break-up between him and his childhood sweetheart. You’d heard it all about Ruth, and her new friend Jade, and all of the accusations Ruth would make against Tom just to turn around and do the very same to him with Jade. The last time he visited became a real turning point, when he’d gotten especially drunk and admitted to you that he’d been questioning his attraction to her, himself.
“I don’t even know what it was that turned me off, you know. Or maybe it was never even there.”
“Well, is she your type? What kind of person are you usually into?”
“Pretty girls. Like you,” he drawled, resting his chin on his fist.
“Nice try, Mr Grant. I’d believe you if you weren’t so wasted,” you smirked.
“Ooh, Mr Grant, so formal. How’d you know that, anyway?”
“Your last name? Let’s see, your ID, your bank card… ’S not that difficult to find out.”
“Yeah, but you remembered it. I think you fancy me, too,” he grinned smugly.
“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shook your head, and he pouted at you.
“Not even gonna tell me? Tease.”
“Even if I did, there’s no way you’d remember in the morning, so there’s no point, is there?” you shrugged.
“Bet I would. I’d never forget something if it were about you,” he simpered.
You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach and managed to keep your composure as you replied, “Alright, then, if you still feel the same way about me, but stone cold sober, I’ll give you my number. But only then.”
Tom had wanted to stay true to his promise so badly. He’d wanted nothing more than to just sit and watch you work and flirt relentlessly with you. No liquid courage needed. But of course it was Barry’s birthday, and Barry wanted all the lads together for dinner. Tom had felt honoured to finally be included as one of the lads, but it came at a price. A price that he felt too tipsy to then go back to his caravan, all alone with his thoughts. Only one person usually made him feel better in this state. And he’d promised you a sober confession. Yet here he was, giving you the exact opposite.
“Can I ’ave another one?” he asks, holding the glass out to you.
You kiss your teeth and shake your head, lightly lilting, “Alright, but soon enough, I am gonna have to start charging you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Water don’t cost nothing, though. We already established that, remember?” Still in his hand, he taps the empty glass against his head as you take out a fresh one for him.
“So, maybe I’ll have to think of other ways to have you pay for my efforts,” you smirk, putting the water down and resting your hands on your edge of the bar, shifting your weight onto your wrists.
“Oh, yeah?” Tom leans forward, intrigued, a coy smile playing on his lips. “What’s that, then?”
You wrinkle your nose, "Depends what you've got to offer."
"Just. This," Tom states as he steps back and gestures at himself with both hands, the slur that’s still present in his voice betraying him.
You sigh. "Remember the rule, Tommy boy," you waggle your eyebrows at him, and he groans.
"Yeah. I know,” he pouts as he grabs the glass with a frustrated force and starts chugging again.
You look at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s always next time, eh.”
~~~
“So, let me get this straight,” your best friend stops you, looking up in disbelief at the location you’d chosen. “You decided to get us all to meet up for drinks, for your birthday, and we could have gone anywhere. And you choose your work?!”
“Well, yeah, I’m not allowed to use my staff discount while I’m on shift, obviously, so why not take advantage of it on my big day, eh?!” You grin.
She rolls her eyes, “You’re a menace.”
“Yeah, but you put up with me,” you rest your chin on her shoulder, still beaming from ear to ear as you both stumble into the pub together.
“Ooh, Tommy the Tank Engine at 2 o’clock,” your best friend giggles, pointing over at a group of men that, sure enough, includes Tom himself.
“Don’t point, dickhead!” You hush, grabbing her hand and shoving it back to her side. “Oh, bless him, look at him. Now, listen, you cannot let me get so drunk that I make a tit of myself in front of him, okay? I’ve got a - you know, a -” You wave your hand around in front of you, trying to think of a word. “Not quite reputation, but you know what I mean. A thing we’ve got.”
“I don’t think that I do,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you mean, like… Because you’ve told him you’ll only believe him if he’s sober, you don’t wanna flirt with him while you’re drunk.”
“You get me,” you smile wistfully as you lean against her, cuddling up to her.
Giggling again, she shoves you away. “Gerroff, unless you really wanna give him the wrong impression! Besides, I say go for it, anyway. Ride that train,” she mimics pulling a steam train whistle and you scold her as you shove her towards the bar.
You meet up with the rest of your friends and have a shot with them. One of your regulars wishes you a happy birthday and buys you another. One of your coworkers gives you another one on the house.
You’ve totally forgotten who else was even here, until after your best friend insists on buying you your favourite cocktail, and as you shuffle between other people waiting at the bar to let others get out, you feel your back collide with the solid weight of someone else’s chest, followed by an all-too-familiar, “Easy, tiger!”
You take a deep breath in and look at your best friend in bewilderment before steeling yourself and pivoting to look at Tom, “Oh my god, hi! I’m so sorry!”
“’S alright. Someone’s having a good night, aren’t they?” He smiles down at you.
“It’s her birthday, you know!” Your best friend shouts over at him, and he gives a thoughtful frown back, raising his eyebrows at her.
“I did not know that, as a matter of fact! S’pose I better do my rightful duty and get the birthday girl a drink, too, shouldn’t I?”
“Trying to get me drunk, now, are ya? I see your game, Mr Grant,” you tease, earning a sly grin from him and a side-eye from your best friend.
“Fair’s fair, you’ve seen me plastered enough times,” he waggles his eyebrows at you. “What’s your poison, ladies?”
Tom buys both yours and your best friend’s drinks for you, and orders something for himself while your friend sneaks away to leave you both to it, though you don’t realise it. You frown when you see Tom pick up a full pint glass of Coke and point at it. “Big glass for a mixed drink.”
“Yeah. Almost as though it isn’t,” he smirks, moving his glass to chime it against yours. “Happy birthday, love.”
Though your heart sinks at the idea that he really did try to keep to his word tonight, you decide to keep up the playful rapport the two of you know so well. Punctuating your first three words each with a poke to the middle of his chest, you grin slyly, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to see me drunk, for once.”
Running two of his fingers alternately up your shoulder at his first three words, he mimics your tone, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to touch me.” He rests his wrist on your shoulder, and the fingertips that ghost the skin on your back send shivers all through you.
“Says the man who’s keeping his arm there,” you reply with a smug lipped smile, and he shrugs, that fake frown making another appearance on his face.
“Alright, I guess if you don’t want it,” he slides his arm away from you tantalisingly slowly, his eyes locked onto yours the whole time. You whimper involuntarily, your voice betraying you, when his fingertips are the only thing dragging against you. With a proud chuckle, he rests the heel of his hand back on your shoulder again, his fingertips leaving goosebumps where they ghost against the skin left exposed from the strap of your dress. “You should really get back to your friends now.”
“Not without you,” you pull a face at him, “not after all this! You bought the two of us a drink, remember, you can’t just leave us now!”
He smiles in quiet pride. “What would I tell all my mates, eh? That I’m abandoning them?”
“They can come over, too!” you counter. “My friends won’t mind, they’d love extra company.”
“Why, do you plan on being distracted all night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you again.
“Where’s this Tom been hiding then, anyway, eh?” you buffer his question with your own. “How come I don’t see this version of you when I’m sober? Am I that intimidating?”
“Ooh, yeah, dead scary,” Tom answers sarcastically, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, but he laughs when you waggle your fingers in a jokingly haunting manner.
“Will you at least drink with me, so I’m not the only one making an arse of myself?” you pout, trying to give him your best doe eyes.
“But then who will be here to document all your arse-ry?” Tom starts, but you interrupt.
“That’s not a word!”
“Piss off, drunky, how do you know?” he teases, laughing at your offended gasp. “No, if you’re gonna make a scene, I wanna make sure my head is crystal clear so I can lord it over you for the rest of time. As it is, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to embarrass me with tonight,” he flashes his eyes at you as you approach his friend group, waving your own over.
You all eventually commandeer your own corner of the pub, you and Tom sat on one of the old leather sofas as the other is crammed with a mix of both his friends and yours, as well as others being peppered around on regular dining chairs. After asking around, and others insisting that they’re fine where they are, thereby refusing your invitation to join you and Tom on the sofa, your legs start to ache. Not being able to find enough floor space to stretch them out adequately, you simply decide to drape them across Tom’s lap, which he takes to naturally.
He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re there at first, which has your mind turning over and over, until he starts gently, absent-mindedly stroking his fingertips up and down your leg. The tingles that shot through you at his touch earlier return again. He notices your longing stare in his direction and, without moving his head, glances over at you, winks, then looks back at the person he's talking to. The sensation that causes goes straight to your core.
“Whose round is it then?” one of your friends asks, standing just next to the sofa you’re sat on.
Leaning back, you wave her over so that she bends down to you, pulling her head down as close as it’ll get to your face before whispering in her ear, “Could you actually just get me a Coke? Nothing in it?” She nods and you grin at her as she stands tall again. “Oh!” You fish your staff ID out of your bag and hand it over to her. “Don’t forget to use that, don’t go paying full price here if you can help it!”
“Not exactly a great advertisement for this place, are you?” One of Tom’s friends asks amusedly before declaring he’ll buy the drinks in, and you watch as him and your friend go to the bar with the intent to order them - though even once they’re out of your earshot, you still notice that they seem to be distracting themselves.
Tom finally finishes his other conversation and nudges you to ask in an intrigued voice, “What were you two whispering about earlier, then?”
“And why’s that any of your business?” You ask back with a sly smile.
He shrugs, “Dunno, might have been about me.”
"If I was gonna talk about you, I'd say it to you," you grin, leaning to rest your head on the back cushion of the sofa.
"Yeah?" he asks with raised eyebrows. “In front of everyone?”
You shrug, “Depends. You got anything you want to tell me in front of everyone?”
He beckons you close with two fingers - a gesture you try desperately not to fixate on - and leans in close to your ear, cups his hand around it and whispers, "I proper fancy you."
"Yeah, and water's wet," you lean around to raise your eyebrows back at him, giggling as he frowns at you. “Glad to hear it from this version of you, though.”
He can't keep his frowning up for long, though, his own eyebrows soon waggling with anticipation. "Alright, so, c’mon, then. You got anything to say to me?”
You lean in with the intention to whisper back in his ear, but you get distracted by your friend handing you your drink, along with a very knowing look. “You two need a room?” They ask with a smirk.
“Like you two weren’t locking lips over at the bar?” You tease back, flashing your eyes over to Tom’s friend briefly. Laughing it off with you, your friend joins her new companion for the night as you settle yourself in next to Tom.
“Big glass for a mixed drink,” he repeats what you’d said to him earlier with a smug look on his face.
Knowing what he’s doing, you grin back, “Almost as if it isn’t.” Leaning across to grab his own glass again from the table, he clinks it against yours for the second time this evening and takes a big swig, his eyes never leaving yours.
When the pub finally closes, you, Tom, and those of your friends that haven’t already dispersed for the night, decide to make for the first fast-food place you see. One of Tom’s friends even takes advantage of Tom insisting on buying you a burger by holding his lighter on top of it while everyone sings Happy Birthday to you. You spend the last few minutes of your birthday surrounded by friends, old and new, singing and laughing and falling against Tom’s arm while he feeds you fries. Sure, you could have gotten even more drunk, found some other club that was open and danced the night away - but something about this just feels nicer.
Everyone’s figuring out their taxi situations when Tom turns to you. “What about you, which cab are you taking?”
“Neither,” you shake your head, scrunching your face up. He looks at you quizzically, and you hold your hand out in front of you to gesture down the road, moving it around a couple of times to gesture your route home. “Walking distance.”
Just as Tom's about to reply, he's interrupted by his friends yelling at him to get in their cab. He looks over at them and turns his nose up. "Nah, think I'm gonna stick with this one, not sure how much I trust these streets. I'll get my own later, it's fine." You don't hear exactly what his mates say, but the general tone of their collective jeering and grabbing Tom's arm as he bats them away and tells them, “Alright, gerroff!” tells you everything.
They chorus one more happy birthday! to you before Tom shuts the car door on them. You shout back that you'll treat them to a round next time they come into the pub and you can hear their cheers even when the door is shut, which makes you laugh. The pair of you wave both taxis off as they drive away, and you and Tom naturally link arms as you start walking back to your place.
"How you feeling?" he asks.
"Pretty damn good. You keep some decent company," you smile at him.
"What, that gaggle of idiots? Yeah, they're not so bad," he laughs softly. "Good birthday, d'you reckon?"
"Best so far," your smile widens as you hug his arm, leaning your head against it. He rests his head on top of yours, reaching over with his free hand to rub where your two meet around his bicep.
The pair of you make little pockets of small talk in the short walk to your house until you stop in front of it. Tom whistles as he looks it up and down. "What's your pay like at that pub? I'll have to start working there."
You laugh, "Calm down, I just rent out the top floor." You sigh happily. "Come see it, if you like."
"Ooh, inviting me in, eh? So late at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?" Tom teases, making you laugh.
"Oh, shut it," you smirk, shaking your head.
"Well, you are sending me mixed signals, here," Tom widens his face and crosses his arms. "See, I've wore my heart on my sleeve. I've told you what I think of you, many a time, in fact. And yet here you go, stringing a poor boy on, leaving him without a clue how you feel," he rocks himself from side to side, his movements and tone getting more and more extravagant as he keeps talking.
You swat at him playfully, "Shut up, or else you really will wake up the neighbours!" You step closer to him and beckon him closer. As he leans in, you move round to cup your hands over his ear and whisper, "I proper fancy you, too."
“Oh, yeah?” He murmurs seductively, reaching over to stroke his hands up and down your arms. “An’ how can I be so sure of that, drunky?”
“Piss off, I’m sober now,” you make the weakest attempt at shoving his chest, your palms flat against it, but it does nothing to his gait, only making him laugh under his breath. Instead, your hands grab the shirt beneath them as you grin, “C’mere,” and pull him in for a kiss. It’s filled with all the passionate relief of finally getting to do something you’ve both wanted for so long, and it only ramps up the longer you kiss for.
You hum in questioning, breaking away for a second to jerk your head towards your door, and he chuckles between even more kisses as he cradles your face, constantly pulling you back in for more. “Trying to get me inside, are you?”
With a sly smile, you pull back. “Well, if you don’t want to -” You swivel to face the door itself, digging your keys out of your bag, but Tom’s back on you in a flash. His body presses into your form as his hands slide back around your body, down to squeeze your hips, back up to wrap around your breasts, all while he kisses your neck.
You melt into his touch, leaning back to press yourself against him. You allow your hips to sway back and forth, grinding your ass against what is almost certainly a bulge straining against the denim. He hums against your neck, “Don’t even wanna wait ’til we get in? Dirty girl,” he accompanies his last remark by leaning back just enough to reach down and lightly spank your ass cheek, making you gasp audibly. Stepping forward to close the gap again, he nuzzles your ear as he purrs, “Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”
You whine in agreement and he continues nuzzling his nose down past your jaw, ghosting his lips against the sensitive flesh of your neck once again. You hum out a soft moan as you finally wrestle your key into the lock. The pair of you practically fall over each other to get through the door, but you're quick to pin him against it as soon as it shuts, kissing him desperately.
He moans into your mouth, "Oh, fuck, someone's eager, aren't you? Wanna just take me right here and now, huh?" You laugh against his lips as you keep kissing him. He hums back, "Let's see how much you want me, yeah?" as his hand ghosts beneath the skirt of your dress, sliding up your inner thigh to press against your core through your panties.
You whimper into the kiss and he drawls, "Fuck me, you're so wet, already. Thinking about this on the walk here, were you?" He slides a finger up and down the fabric of your underwear as he mutters into the inch of space between your lips. "Or while we were at the pub?" He asks as he presses against your covered clit. You grab at his shirt, where you'd already made a mess of it, and he whispers smugly, "Or have you secretly spent your whole birthday hoping it'd end with this?'
You cry out again, finally finding your voice, "God, please, Tom… Want more.” You look at him with pleading eyes and he chuckles back.
"Mmm, now there's a face that I've been dreaming about. But you were the one to pin me to the door here, so I think I should get to enjoy kissing you a little bit longer, at least," he mutters as he leans back in to resume his embrace.
"Tease," you accuse against him, and he laughs again.
"'M not teasing at all, sweetness, just been waiting so long for this, I wanna take my time an– Yeah, I'm totally teasing you," he grins as he cranes his head to kiss your neck again. You whine in protest, and he deftly moves your panties aside to slide one long middle finger inside of you. “Go on, then, just one, for now. Seeing as it is your birthday, an’ all,” he grins wickedly, but he soon melts against you as you squirm and moan around him. As his posture relaxes, you move your hands onto his shoulders and start pushing, which he points out with an amused, “You try’na tell me something there?”
“I mean, seeing as it is my birthday…” You counter, lilting with an obviously fake nonchalance.
Tom grins as he sinks himself lower. “Yeah, I’ll get on my knees for you, love.” Once he’s knelt at your feet, he feels his way up your thighs, past your dress until his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He looks up at you pleadingly with a soft noise of questioning, soon beaming once you nod in affirmation as he pulls them down to your ankles. He sighs dreamily as he looks up at you. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he breathes out. “Could just stare at you for hours.” You pout at him, and he responds with a cheeky, “Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just -” He sits back on his heels with a small, smug smile, “sit right back here and watch as - oh, someone’s twitchy, aren’t they?” He asks with soft intrigue, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer between your legs.
“Tom, please…” You plead. “Enough teasing, now.”
“Yeah? Alright, then,” he sits up to bury his face into you, his tongue lapping away at the edges of your folds. “Mmm, y’taste so good, babe. So much better’n I imagined. C’mere,” he wraps his arms around your thighs as he carries on eating you out. He starts off so carefully, sweet little kitten licks to your clit and long, slow, drawn out ministrations through your core, but he takes the hint when you whine out in frustration, grab his hair and push his head further in.
He starts fucking you with his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy, especially when he reaches up to rub at your clit in quick circles. You keel over and perch yourself on the door when he switches up to suck on your clit while sinking two fingers into you and curving them. He keeps mumbling into your skin, words you wish you could hear were it not for the blood pumping in your ears, but it seems as though Tom only intends for his compliments to be heard only between him and your cunt.
He finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and pushes himself up to stand, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He moans as he presses his body against yours, as though the thought of making you taste yourself is turning him on all the more. “Wanna fuck you,” he pants as he presses his forehead to yours. “Please, I wan- need to be inside you, like, now.”
“Not so cocky, now, are you, babe?” you smirk, and he laughs.
“No, miss, just one taste and I’m already wrapped ’round your finger,” he jokes.
You jerk your head behind you, “Think you can wait ’til we get up them stairs?”
Tom steps aside and gestures towards them with an, “After you.”
You laugh as you first kick away the underwear still sitting on your ankles before taking your shoes off, prompting Tom to do the same. He stays behind you as you run up the flight of stairs leading into your living area, though not without another soft smack to your ass as he follows it.
Once you’re back on flat ground, you hold your hand out for him to take, walking backwards as you pull him towards your bedroom, even while the pair of you lock lips once again. You scramble to get his shirt off before you’ve even reached your bedroom door, though every attempt to lean back and admire him is scuppered by him leaning in to keep kissing you, until you practically fall through the doorway.
You guide him over to your bed and push him down onto it. His hands explore your body as you stand between his legs, before sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up over your ass. His hands grip your cheeks roughly as he pulls you closer, craning his neck around to look at it as he plays with it, gently slapping each one alternately as it jiggles and loving the sights and sounds of it. "Fuck, angel, want you so bad," he groans before looking up at you pleadingly. "D'you want me, too?"
Caressing his face gently, you beam, "Get the rest of those clothes off and shuffle back on the bed, and I'll show you." Tom scrambles backwards, wriggling himself free of his jeans and boxers as he does, until he's laying back on your pillows, clothes discarded on your bedroom floor. You slowly strip yourself of your own clothes, too, opting to shimmy your dress down past your hips, really putting on a show for him as you push it over your bare ass, before unclipping your bra, holding it high and dropping it down onto the floor.
You stop for a moment to just enjoy the sight of him, your favourite customer, laying on your bed, biting his lip as he jerks off to the sight of you right in front of you. You whimper as you fall to rest one knee on your mattress, rubbing at your own clit as you watch him, the tip of his cock peeking out through his foreskin with every tug, tantalising you. He looks just a little bigger and just a little wider than you're used to, and you feel your pussy drench beneath you at the thought of him filling you up. "You gonna keep that gorgeous body of yours that far away from me for long, sweetness?" Tom pouts, and you hurriedly climb him like a tree. You go to kiss him once you've straddled him, but he jokingly turns his head aside. “No, no, if you’d rather stay away from me, don’t let me stop you,” he jokes, and you consider playing him at his own game, but you realise the quickest way to get what you want.
Pouting, you lean yourself down onto him, especially making sure you squeeze your breasts against his chest, and croon, “Oh, please, Tom, I need you so bad. ’M sorry I got so distracted by what a pretty cock you’ve got, please let me ride it, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”
Tom slowly turns his head back to look at you, a proud smirk on his face as he lifts his head to place a hand behind it. “Go on, keep begging, that’s my girl,” he drawls, lightly tracing your back with the fingertips of his free hand.
Feeling your heart soar and cunt throb at the sentiment, you whine, grinding your hips against his, "God, Tom… Want you to fuck me so bad, been dreaming about it f'too long, need to feel it now, please? Just for tonight?"
Tom wrinkles his nose. "Dunno about that…" And for a fleeting second, you're filled with a disappointed doubt that he's changed his mind, until he grabs at you and, with a mischievous grin, throws you off to the side, wrestling your giggling self until you're the one laying beneath him. He perches himself on his elbows to hover above you, and playfully and tenderly strokes all around your face before purring happily between kisses, "'M definitely gonna fuck you tonight… But I'm also gonna fuck you in the morning… And again, a little bit after that… And again, after that… Sound good so far?"
You hum happily, "Sounds perfect. But, please can I have your cock inside of me, now? Have I earned it yet?"
"Aww, gonna milk it, pretty girl?" He coos, reaching down to guide his tip between your folds. "Gonna take it all in that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Gonna be good f'me?" You nod, whining desperately as you feel him starting to push into you. "Oh my god," he whimpers as he enters you, kissing you passionately as he fills you. Your hips start to buck down instinctively as he moves, and he tuts, "Fussy girl can't wait?"
You pout your lower lip out, "'M not fussy."
He does the same expression back to you sarcastically. "You're not?" He asks mockingly as he slowly starts pulling out. You grab his shoulders in protest, and that wicked smile of his comes back. "Fuck me, you are dirty, aren't you?" You nod in defeat, and he presses another kiss to your lips. "Good," he beams before sinking himself back into you, filling you up.
Your fingers dig into the supple flesh just above his shoulder blades as your legs wrap around his hips. "Oh, fuck, Tom… So much… Better…"
"Better, eh? So you'd think about me, too? While I spent - mmm - my nights getting off to the - fuck - thought of you, you were - shit - doing the same?" You nod, whining in agreement, and he moans as his thrusts get more frantic. "Fuck, I've wanted you - needed you - for so long, now… Never letting you go, never gonna stop - ah, shit, yes," he groans.
You pout at him, "Not even at least long enough for me to get on all fours?"
He looks at you as though all of his Christmases have come at once. "You want that?"
You nod, biting your lip. "And, since you love it so much, you can pull out and cum on my ass, if you want."
Add all his birthdays at once as well, based on his reaction. "Always knew you were the perfect woman, holy shit," he mutters in awe as he pulls out of you. You turn yourself around to get on your hands and knees, arching your back to present yourself to him, and he grabs at your ass to admire the sight in front of him, and he growls under his breath. A guttural, feral sound that has you clenching around nothing. “Been thinking about this much, then?”
“Oh, only pretty much every time I’m closing up the bar,” you chirp in reply. “Why’d you think I’ve been asking for you to stay sober for a night?”
“Fuck, if this is what one night gets me, I’m going teetotal,” he sighs wistfully, making you giggle.
“What was that line you gave me earlier about keeping that body away from me?” You tease, biting your lip as you anticipate the inevitable spank to your ass cheek with glee.
“Cheeky,” he smirks back as he admires how your skin ripples under his touch, "not so fun when it's the other way around, is it?"
"Does that mean you're gonna beg for me now, then?" You ask hopefully.
Tom pushes your back down enough for him to lean over you entirely to be within whisper distance of your ear. You feel his cock pressing into the crack of your ass as he whimpers, "Oh, please, miss, let me fuck you into oblivion. 'M such a good boy f'you, been waiting all this time to show you, been thinking about this all along. Please give me what I want."
"Yeah?" You moan against your pillow. "Tell me as you're filling me up again."
You feel him start to line his cock up with your pussy from behind as he admits, "Think about the day you'd finally tell me to hang back. I'd sit you on the pool table and eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'til it stains it. Bend you over that bar - that you've been spending months teasing me behind - an' just -" He lets out a long, shaky breath as he pushes his tip inside of you, revelling in the feeling of your cunt immediately pulling him in for more.
"Please, Tom…" you whine. "'S all I think about when I'm closing, too. Can't look anywhere without thinking of how you'd fuck me," you admit half-sheepishly as you rock back onto him.
Tom's hips buck to meet yours as he groans. "God, I've been a fucking idiot, then, haven't I?" He half-laughs.
"'S fine, just - fuck me now, please? Just how you’ve always wanted to?" You beg, crying out in delight as he grabs your hips and starts thrusting frantically into you.
You've always thought it was cliche as all hell when people say that with the right person, it feels as though they're made for you - but Tom barely needs any direction from you to bring you to your apex. He feels right inside of you, he's hitting just the right spots at just the right pace, without you even needing to ask him. And the sounds he makes as he's fucking you, just the knowledge that you're clearly making him feel the same way, turns you on even more.
His moans become more strained, and his grip tightens. "Fuck, babe, need - need to feel you cum so I can - fuck, are you close?"
You whine out an, "Almost. I can get there quicker, though," you start shuffling to reach down between your legs, but Tom bats your hand away.
"Please, allow me," he smirks as he strokes your clit up and down.
"Such a gentleman," you tease, and he chuckles.
"Not much gentle about me, love," he purrs before rubbing your clit in deliberate, tight, fast circles, slapping your ass once more for good measure and practically losing himself inside of you when he feels how you clench around him at that.
When you climax, it's more intense than you've felt for a long time, if at all. You paint his cock in your juices, and he only just about manages to pull it out of you in time to spread warm spurts of thick cum against your ass.
You flop down onto the bed, still stomach first, in exhaustion, smiling wistfully at the feeling of Tom lightly dragging the tip of his cock through the strings of cum he's left on your ass cheeks. "Having fun back there?"
"Just sort of sinking in that it's really happened," he replies in a state of dazed happiness. "How you feeling?"
"Good," you smile back in the same tone, "so very good."
"Yeah?" he smirks proudly.
"Should probably clean up," you mutter into your pillow, "but I don't wanna move right now."
Tom laughs, "C'mon, let's see if we can share a shower without you trying to go for round two, eh?"
You sit up on your knees, pivoting to face him, and gasp in shocked offence, making him laugh even more. “Oh, if I can, eh? And what about you?!”
He leans in with a grin, holding you by the throat as he kisses you deeply, longingly. “I already know I can’t.”
Once you’re both stood up, the rest of the night catches up with you and you both spend a moment blinking at each other heavily and laughing in exhaustion. You do share a shower, but it’s tender, soft, intimate. Lots of gentle caressing and slow kisses as you bathe Tom in your signature scent, the two of you becoming as one.
When you’re all clean, dry, and snuggled in Tom’s arms in your bed, you sigh. He turns his head to rest his face against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to it as he asks, “What’s wrong, sweetness?”
“Don’t want to fall asleep, now. Means it’s over,” you mumble into his bare chest.
“What, d’you really think I’m gonna ghost you after this?!” Tom asks with amusement. “You’re stuck with me now, babe.”
“Oh, no(!) How terrible(!)” You joke, and Tom gasps.
“Cheeky!”
“Ah, can’t reach down to spank me now, can you?” You tease.
Tom hums sleepily, “Hmm, I’m keeping track in my head of what I owe you, don’t you worry,” and you giggle. “Y’know, this wasn’t really how I wanted to do things with you.”
“How’d you mean?”
Tom shuffles a little, “Well, y’know. The deal was only ever to get your number, at first. Then, I was gonna wow you with my excellent flirting skil- why’re you laughing?” He pokes the soft part of your side, tickling you and making you laugh even more. “Anyway, wanted to do it all… Y’know, proper. Wine and dine you, so you knew it was for real.”
You frown, tracing the freckles on his chest absent-mindedly. “Yeah, but you did do all that. You bought me a drink at the start… Bought me my burger… And I think I know how you feel about me well enough by this point,” you grin. “Just thought you’d earned a night of teasing me, for once. Don’t get too used to it, though.”
“Oh? Sounds like a challenge,” Tom smirks, and you laugh. He sighs happily, “I really do like you, by the way. Not just drunky Tom, an’ I wasn’t just trying to get you in bed, neither. Not that I’m complaining,” he squeezes you closer to him, smiling into your hair.
“I like you too, Mr Grant,” you tease back, looking up at him to kiss him. One kiss gets followed by another, and another. “Things just feel right with you, y’know?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replies wistfully. “Like… Not to bring up my ex, but being Ruth was just like… Doing it to get it over with, d’you know what I mean? Like we did because it’s a thing people do. But that was just fun, like we were having a laugh but it was so fucking good at the same time. ’M just sorry I only made you come the once, especially on your birthday. How inconsiderate, eh?!” he jokes, and you laugh so loudly that your hand flies up to your mouth, but Tom gently guides it back away, watching you with adoration.
“Trust me, that was plenty! If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t get to play with you more,” you go back to playing with his freckles.
“Right, so, plan is, we get up nice an’ early in the morning, you suck me off and then ride my face until you’ve had at least three orgasms, yeah?” Tom jokes.
Laughing, you offer, “Deal. If you’re still asleep when I wake up, I'll just get started and wait for you to catch up, shall I?"
"God, it's like you're in my brain," Tom shakes his head as you both fill the room with laughter.
“S’pose we should get some sleep then, shouldn’t we?” You suggest, shuffling around until you’re comfortable. He matches your posture easily, spooning you and wrapping you up in his embrace as he settles down next to you.
“G’night, love. Hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he muses in your ear.
“Definitely the best one yet.” You smile sleepily as you feel him lean over to kiss your cheek, and turn your head around to sneak in a few more kisses before finally falling asleep.
tagging a few people who might especially want to read, feel free to tell me if you don't want to be tagged <3: @keerysquinn @pedgito @babybluebex @reysorigins @keeponquinning
#tom grant#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant imagine#tom grant fanfiction#tom grant fanfic#tom grant fic#tom make up#tom make up x reader#tom make up x you#tom make up imagine#tom make up fanfiction#tom make up fanfic#tom make up fic#*myfics#fic: tom g
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Joseph Quinn's Other Characters Fics (Series/One-Shots) - I
I made a list of currently reading and recommended fics for Joseph Quinn's other characters here on Tumblr. All were beautifully written by amazing writers. These writers are incredible and full of brilliant ideas, so please visit their blogs and check all of their works. Happy reading! Don’t forget to comment and reblog their works. You may also reblog this list to share with everyone/blog mutuals. Thank you! (For 18+, MDNI)
Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)
Pick Your Poison | 2 | 3 by @punk-in-docs
Keep Watch Over The Door Of My Lips
And The Stars Sighed In Unison
Lay No Claim | 2 by @the-suburban-blues
It Has Always Been You by @dingusfreakhxrrington
With Me Now by @the-suburban-blues
Our Duty & Birth Of 1st Child by @emmywrites-blog
Deserve Love Series | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @boohoo-clo
Thank You by @m7nson
Out Of The Dark by @creme-bruhlee
My Darling by @helpwhatsthis
Childish by @badmirvcle
Eye for An Eye by @rocknrollbabe14
Ralph (TimeWasters)
At Last | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @luv4fandoms
It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To by @brighteyedbushybrowed
Please & Darling by @no-mercy-bby
Wizard by @creme-bruhlee
To Be Loved by @stevies-corner
A Special Present For A Special Boy by @littlelioncub43
Who's A Good Boy? | 2 @mypoisonedvine
Baby Boy by @historygeekfics
Show Me
Untitled by @thefreak-thebanished
A Life Well Loved by @eddiemunsonthebanished
Words Of Advice | 2 by @ladyfogg
My Sweet Boy by @forays-into-fiction
A Rivalry For The Ages by @ladybug0095
The Dance by @stinkysam
Tell the World by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x
Busy Streets And Busy Lives @thefreak-thebanished
Kinktober: Day13 - Face Sitting by @xcatnapsx
My Way Of Life by @ @sadboyeddie
Tom Grant (Make Up)
You Got Me by @mypoisonedvine
WindSwept by @ladyfogg
Lemons Lollipops and Salt | 2(WIP) by @cherrielip
Adore You by @inklore
5 Minutes In Heaven
A Couple Hours by @luvsouya
Little Thief by @dingusfreakhxrrington
Thunder by @loves0phelia
Maybe It's A Good Thing? | 2 by @dingusfreakhxrrington
Prompts | 2 | 3 by @ladylannisterxo
Welcome Home by @mypoisonedvine
Untitled by @ginger-mews
New Girl | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 by @xcatnapsx
I'm Home by @bluesfortheredj
Cheer Up by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x
Untitled | Prompt by @joemazzmatazz
I'm Not Her by @munsonxmayhem
Smashed by @joekeeryswife
Rebound | 2 | 3 by @munsonxmayhem
Another Sad Love Song by @rocknrollbabe14
Kisses from Cupid by @hawkinsbanishedhero
His Past And His Future by @munsonxmayhem
New Angel by @fxckadoodledoomunson
Mr. And Mrs. Grant by @munsonxmayhem
Tom Grant Series by @wheels-of-despair
Leonard Bast (Howards End)
A Friend Of A Friend by @the-suburban-blues
All I'd Ever Need @the-suburban-blues
As Stubborn As A Mule by @writing-fanics
Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)
The Arrangement | 2 | 3 (x M!Reader) by @ladyfogg
One Of Those Nights (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood
Untitled (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @dingusfreakhxrrington
Letters (x M!Reader) by @axailslink
Million Dollar Man (x F!Reader) by @lvlycheri
Not All Who Wander Are Lost (x M!Reader) by @lvlycheri
It's Okay (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x
Please Don't Go (x M!Reader)
Untitled (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood
Maybe Someday (x M!Reader) by @casettewrecked
Untitled (x M!Reader) by @razzledazzlestuff
Can The Past Save The Future (x M!Reader) by @stardancerluv
Koner (Game of Thrones)
Only You | 2 | 3 by @creme-bruhlee
Night Watch by @historygeekfics
A Not-So-Knight and His Spellcaster | 2(WIP) by @brighteyedbushybrowed
Winter Nights | 2 by @ercklln
A Winter's Tale by @lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer
Dark Koner (Untitled) by @mypoisonedvine
Note: I hope a lot more writers will write stories for these characters and I'm sure we're all excited to read more stories about it.
#joseph quinn#joseph quinn's other characters#timewasters#howards end#catherine the great#catherine the great 2019#make up#prince paul x reader#ralph timewasters x reader#ralph penbury x reader#tom grant x reader#tom make up x reader#leonard bast x reader#prince paul#tom grant#tom (make up) x reader#leonard bast#ralph penbury#dickensian#arthur havisham#arthur havisham x male reader#arthur havisham x female reader#koner x reader#koner#got
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𝟓 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 (𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩) 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend finds an empty closet at work, and he convinces you to play a game of 7 (or 5) minutes in heaven.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tom grant (make up, 2019) x fem!reader
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (minors dni, handjob, oral m&f!receiving, hair pulling)
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: tom is such a cutie golden retriever boyfriend, also this is kinda short so sorry but eek it's tommy
“C’mere!” Tom exclaimed, grabbing your hand. He was smiling, his dark eyes wide, and you knew that he had mischief on his mind. Your boyfriend didn’t often have much else on his mind, usually work and you, and you knew that you would be contributing to his madness if you went with him.
“What?” you asked. “What is it?”
“I found something,” Tom told you, and you huffed when he didn’t elaborate.
“Okay,” you started slowly. “Found what?”
“I’ll show you,” he said. “Just, c’mon!”
You rolled your eyes, but you allowed Tom to tug you away from your place of sorting through silverware. Truly, the work was dull and you would take any excuse to leave it, so you didn’t really mind that much that Tom was pulling you away from it. You followed him, hand in his, through the halls of the building, until you reached a darkened corridor, the fluorescent light buzzing softly when Tom flipped the switch on the wall.
“Look at this,” Tom said, pulling you down the hall until you reached a door that was set ajar. When you peeked inside, you saw the emptiness, the shelves on the wall dusty with disuse. “Ain’t it wicked?”
“Yeah,” you said slowly. “Cool, Tommy, an empty closet. How neat.”
“Oh, whatever,” Tom scoffed. “But nobody else is around. I don’t think anyone knows this hallway exists… How about a little seven minutes in heaven?” His eyes were big and hopeful as he asked, and you gave him a tight-lipped smile as you realized that you had been right: Tom was planning some mischief.
“Oh, babe,” you said softly. Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close into his body, and he pressed a kiss into your neck. He always knew exactly what to do to make you unravel, and neck kisses were one of them. With the amount of time that Tom spent buried in your neck, you almost assumed that he was some sort of vampire, on his way to turn you. “I was supposed to finish silverware, and then I have to meet Jade at the cabins in, like, 10 minutes.”
“I’ll make it quick,” Tom offered, his voice lilting.
“It takes me five minutes to even get to the cabins,” you giggled. Tom pressed his lips to the most sensitive part of your neck, and you felt your knees go weak. Thank God Tom was holding you, or you might have fallen to the floor. “Tommy!”
“Okay, so like…” Tom began. “Five minutes in heaven.”
“Tom,” you sighed, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You threaded your fingers through his wheat-colored curls, pulling just enough to make him grin against your neck. “Fine. Just five minutes, though.”
“I’ll make it worth your time,” Tom said, and he tugged you into the closet and quickly shut the door. You could hardly see anything, the dim light peeking from under the door doing little to illuminate the space, but you could feel Tom’s strong presence just inches from you. Tom didn’t seem to need the light, though, hands expertly landing on your waist as he tugged you close to him. His chest touched yours, his knee working between your thighs, and he found your lips.
His kiss was hungry, open lips and dominating tongue, and you moaned softly as you felt his erection through his shorts already. “Oh,” you hummed, breaking the kiss with a soft sound, and you said, “Already excited, huh?”
“Shut up,” Tom mumbled. “I always get hard when I’m kissing you.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” you told him, and your hand drifted downwards until it reached his belt. You quickly unbuckled it as he started to kiss your neck, his teeth catching your delicate skin, and you hissed at the slight pain. “Ow, Tommy.”
“Sorry, love,” Tom chuckled, but you knew that he by no means felt bad about it. “I can’t help it.”
“Bullshit,” you smiled, and you moved your head to capture his lips again in a hungry kiss. You were sure that you were already at the end of your time, but fuck it; Jade could wait.
Your hand pushed into Tom’s pants as his tongue dominated your mouth again, and your hand closed around his cock, already hard and burning hot in your grip. Slowly, you began to stroke him, twisting your hand as you met the base of his cock, and Tom moaned softly into your mouth. “Fuck, love,” he whispered. “You’re gonna make me cum in me pants.”
“That’s the idea,” you giggled, and your thumb swiped the head of his cock, collecting up the little bit of precum that had leaked out. Tom made a pitiful little noise into your mouth, and you laughed again. “Oh, Tommy, don’t tell me you’re gonna cum so soon.”
“Only because I know you have to get to work,” Tom said with an airy laugh. “M’doing you a favor, aren’t I?”
“If anyone fucking catches us…” you started, and Tom smiled widely.
“What would you do, love?” Tom asked, and you quickly kneeled down to the floor, your mouth watering at the thought of his cock in your mouth. “I think you’d keep your mouth on my cock, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe,” you grinned, and you were quick to pull his cock from his trousers. The dim light didn’t offer much of a sight, but his cock burned hot in your hand, and you instantly wrapped your lips around the spongy, uncut head of his cock.
His moan caught in his throat as he reached down and grabbed at your ponytail, and you took him deeper, reveling in the hot weight of him on your tongue. There was something about Tom’s cock that made you quiver and writhe, and you reached down to your own pants and undid them, and you shoved your hand down into your panties.
“What’re you doin’?” Tom asked, tugging your ponytail. He pulled you off of his cock and you gasped, and you licked up the sticky string of precum and spit that latched onto your lips. “Are you touchin’ yourself?”
“Yeah,” you told him. “Is that so bad?”
“No,” Tom said, and he released your hair. In an instant, you were back on him, swallowing him down and feeling his heat on your tongue. “It’s cute.”
You greedily sucked him off, running your tongue all over his cock, the ridges and veins of him. He leaked onto your tongue, and he was gentle as he took your hair in his hand again, this time urging more of himself into your mouth.
Your own fingers danced at your clit as your nose buried in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and you chanced a look upwards to see any hint of your Tommy. The dim light didn’t allow much, but you could see, with the light coming from under the door, that Tom was looking down at you, and you imagined his dark eyes wide as you took him fully into your mouth.
“Jesus,” Tom breathed, and his grip became tighter on your ponytail. “Fuck, baby.”
Your fingers touched your clit and your hips jerked forward with the shock of the pleasure, and you could almost see Tom’s smile in the darkness. “You’re something else,” he muttered.
You fell off of his cock, letting it hit your bottom lip as you gasped for air, but you were quick to kiss at him, taking his cock in your free hand and jerking him off quickly as your mouth went to his balls, gently sucking them between your lips.
That really seemed to affect him, his cock twitching in your hand as you rubbed him, and Tom took in a quick gasp. “Fuck!” he said through gritted teeth, and you squeezed your hand gently around his cock as he smoothed his hand down the back of your head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“I sure hope not,” you told him, licking at his balls, earning you another hissed breath. The sound went right to your clit, and you felt your heartbeat in your cunt as you continued to play with it. “How would I suck you off, then?”
“Shut up,” Tom said with a light chuckle, and his hand came to grip his cock. He jerked himself quickly, biting his lip to stifle his moans, and your mouth left his balls to suckle on the head of his cock. “Oh, fuck… M’gonna cum.”
“Already?” you giggled, kitten-licking the weeping tip of his cock, and Tom grunted, deep in his chest. “That’s so quick, Tommy.”
“Alright, don’t take the piss,” Tom chuckled, but you could tell that he was too close to his release to really think straight. “Gonna finish me off or not?”
“I’m considering it,” you smiled, and Tom rolled his eyes. “Will you help me when you’re done?”
“I’ve been dying to get my mouth on your cunt,” Tom told you. “You finish me off, and I’ll get on my knees for you.”
“Sounds perfect,” you told him, and you took him back into your mouth, your tongue playing with his slit as he grunted above you. He tasted delicious and your hand went quicker on your clit, trying to get any form of pleasure, but it felt useless. Only Tommy could please you the way you needed.
You swallowed him down deep, feeling Tom’s cock brush at the back of your throat, and you gasped around him as his hand found the back of your head. He began to shallowly fuck your mouth, making sure you could take it before he did too much, and you grabbed at his hip and held him steady as his rhythm started up.
It wasn’t long before Tom was grabbing your hair tightly, tighter than before, and he was tugging himself out of your mouth. “Gonna fuckin’...” he mumbled through a bitten lip, and he only had to stroke his cock a few times before he was cumming on your face. It hit your cheeks and mouth, and you wiggled around happily as Tom’s breathing heaved as he came.
Finally, his cock had given you all he had, and you could hear his ragged breathing in the darkness of the room. “Here,” he whispered, and his hand lightly touched your arm as he helped you stand up. For a moment, he froze, as if struggling to think properly, and he finally whipped his shirt up and over his head. “Clean up, I can go home and get a new shirt.”
“Thanks,” you whispered, giggling lightly, and you mopped at your dirty face with the corner of his shirt. As you cleaned yourself up, Tom moved himself to the floor in front of you, working quickly to unbuckle your belt and pull down your pants. He didn’t hesitate to kiss at your cunt, his hands grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him roughly, and Tom finally sent a broad lick up your already-throbbing cunt.
You cried out and grabbed his curls as the tip of his tongue focused on your clit, flicking it and playing with it so gently, too gently for your liking. “Tommy!” you gasped, and one of his hands came around to your front to spread your lips and give him full access to your leaking cunt.
“God, you’re so close already, aren’t you?” Tom chuckled, and he carefully sucked at your clit. “Getting off on blowing me, my dirty girl.”
“Shut up,” you gasped, and your eyes instinctually fell onto your watch, lit up in the darkness. “Jesus, I should’ve been there already.”
Tom wasn’t nice about the way he licked at your pussy then, working hard and quick to get you off. You could still manage to see his big brown eyes looking up at you in the dark, and you tugged on his curls and whimpered. “Tommy,” you whined, and your boyfriend smiled against your cunt.
“Yeah?” he asked. “You gonna cum?”
“Yes!” you cried, and your hips jerked towards his mouth, almost as if you were fucking his face. His hand on your ass was tight, fingernails digging in, and you fucked his mouth again. Tom seemed happy letting you do that, and he smiled into your cunt.
Tom’s warm breath was intoxicating as it hit your sticky cunt, and your legs shook as you gripped his hair, trying to stay upright. You could feel his smile as he licked you and swallowed every bit of arousal you gave him, and Tom dug his fingernails into the meat of your thigh as your shaking got worse and heat rose in your belly.
“Tommy…” you managed to whimper, and a well-time nip to your sensitive clit made your breath catch in your throat. “Tommy, m’gonna cum.”
Your boyfriend didn’t react, only continuing his pursuit to make you finish. Nothing you did could appease his hunger, tugging on his hair or fucking his mouth, it only urged him on more to lick and nip and suck at you. He was moaning softly into you, and every vibration only made to tighten the knot inside you. “Do it, love,” Tom whispered, and you bit your lip to hide your moans. If someone caught you and him now, you would never recover from the embarrassment.
It didn’t take much longer for Tom to draw you to your end, working his mouth and lips expertly. You tugged on his curls as your legs went weak, and Tom held you up as you finished and whined and whimpered. Your breath came in short gasps as you looked down at Tommy, and his cheeky grin returned as he licked his lips.
“Fuck, Tommy,” you giggled, and you grabbed his arm to help him stand up. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Tom chuckled, and he took his shirt back from your hand. “Next time you see me, my shirt won’t be covered in jizz.”
“Whatever you say,” you replied. You leaned in and kissed him again as he pulled his shirt back down his torso, and you tangled your fingers in his necklace as his hands touched your waist. He helped tug your pants back up, rubbing your hip as you did up your belt, and he put a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you later, alright?”
“Alright,” Tom echoed, and you opened the door to see him in better light. His cheeks were flushed pink, his puffy lips all cute and red, and you smiled at him.
“Jade’s gonna kill me,” you muttered softly, checking your watch again. It was only twenty minutes past when you were supposed to meet her, and you knew that you could get off clean by saying you lost track of time with the silverware, and Tom kissed you again, almost like he was distracting you. “So much for five minutes, eh?”
“She’ll be fine,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes. “Hey, I’ll have dinner ready when you get home, how about that?”
You grinned at him, and you kissed him again, tangling your fingers in his dirty blond curls. “Sounds perfect, my love.”
#tom make up#tom grant#tom grant x reader#tom make up x reader#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#tom grant smut#tom grant x reader smut#make up 2019#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn x reader smut#*my writing
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Hi! Congrats with your follower milestone!
I’d like to request “literally sharing a sweater” from list one and “whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin” from list two for Tom Grant please!
regan's 1k follower celebration (i am no longer taking blurb requests)
thanks mar!!! i love these prompts, they’re so soft 🥺
pairing: tom grant x gn!reader
prompts: literally sharing a sweater and whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin
The sun had long since set, cooling the beach down to a much lower temperature than you were prepared for. The fire doesn’t do much to warm you, so you’re kicking yourself for not thinking to bring your sweater down with you. And you know yourself, if you head back up to the park with the intention of grabbing something to keep you warm, you’ll just end up calling it a night. So you decide to suffer, hoping the alcohol from your shitty beer will warm you up.
You try to focus on the people around you, joining in on what conversations you can. But a shiver wracks through your body before you can control it, and Tom’s head immediately turns to look at you.
“You cold?” he asks, as if it’s not insanely obvious at this point. You rub your bare arms in an attempt to warm them up a little bit.
“A little,” you lie, trying to play it off. “Forgot my sweater.”
“Here,” Tom says, beckoning you over with his head. You smile, appreciative of his generosity, and get up from your chair as he begins to unzip the hoodie he’s wearing. You try to stamp down your excitement at wearing Tom’s sweater. It looks cozy and it likely smells like him. And maybe the sight of you wearing it will scare off some of the vacationing folks who’ve been flirting with him this week. Not that he’s yours to claim.
But when he doesn’t pull off the hoodie, you stand there, your brow furrowing in confusion. Wasn’t he offering it to you?
“Come on,” he says impatiently, before patting his lap. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s actually offering.
This is definitely new territory for the two of you. Playful flirting is one thing, but sitting on his lap by a bonfire on the beach at night and sharing his sweater? This is something else entirely. Something more…intimate.
You try not to read too much into it – he’s just offering because he’s your friend and he’s sweet and you’re cold.
You settle on his thighs and lean back against his chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as he zips you into his hoodie. It’s a bit of a stretch with both of you inside, but you’re immediately warmed by his body against your back. After a few moments he wraps his arms around you, and you can’t help but melt into the embrace.
“Better?” he practically whispers, his lips briefly brushing the shell of your ear. You let out a gasp at the sensation, your body warming even more.
“Yeah, much better,” you confirm. And before you can say anything else, Tom’s lips press against your cheek, giving you a soft peck.
“Good,” he says, before settling back against the chair and picking up his conversation with someone next to him.
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Hey !!!
Did you have headcanon about Tom Grant x male reader ? Or just about Tom Grant in a relationship ?
i do have quite a few headcanons about tom. for these i’ll go with him in a relationship in general for partners of any gender ☺️
firstly, tom is a very affectionate guy and his love languages are definitely physical touch and words of affirmation
he just loves having his s/o near and, when they can’t be, sometimes he just needs to hear their voice
intimacy is a core part of any relationship but with tom it can be overwhelming at times (but in a good way)
he just always wants to be around you, hugging you, kissing you, telling you how much you mean to him
speaking of hugs, they’re a must
he will quite literally pounce you at any moment in time just because he wants you in his arms
he also likes it when he’s in your arms, letting you cuddle him and take the lead from time to time
when you’re together, in private or in public, he is almost always touching you
he’ll have an arm slung around you or be holding your hand
sometimes he’ll just move a little closer to you so he can feel your shoulder brush against his
personal space is a thing of the past, unless you really need it
he’ll always give you space when you ask for it but he’s clingy and he knows it
along with being clingy, he’s playful and those two combine into the most adorable things
when he’s feeling playful he’ll jump on you for hugs, kisses or even just to tickle you
sometimes he’ll just put on some music without a word and make you dance with him
he’s just an all around goofball who’s always trying to put a smile on your face
if you’re happy, he’s happy
he also wants people to know that you’re his and likes to show people how much he loves you which results in a lot of PDA
kisses in public places can turn into a whole make out session in the park if you’re not careful
even guests around the trailer park know the two of you are a couple, a point he likes to make very clear whenever someone tries to hit on either you or him
of course, he’s not aways the one initiating things
sometimes he needs you to remind him that you love him just as much as he loves you
so when you’re the one kissing him or pulling him closer, whether you’re in public or alone, it always puts a big smile on his face
overall, tom is one of the sweetest, most loving boyfriends anyone could ask for and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure he’s brightened your day whether you’re together or apart
#—dinguswritings ⌕#tom grant#tom grant headcanons#tom grant x you#tom grant (make up)#tom grant x gn!reader#tom grant x male reader#tom grant x male!reader#tom grant fluff#tom grant make up#tom grant x fem reader#tom grant x reader#tom make up x reader#tom make up#requested
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𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲 | tom (make up) x reader
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | you and tom have been two peas in a pod for your entire lives: tommy and birdie, partners in crime. you only fell in love with him a few years ago, though. maybe he'll notice sometime before you die of old age... but probably not.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 15.8k (oops)
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex/loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving), alcohol consumption and tobacco use, best friends to lovers, angst, pining, fluff, tom and reader lacking braincells, extreme cornish, protectiveness/jealousy, There Was Only One Bed, I can't stress enough how fucking stupid these two are, truly no braincells detected in this entire fic
(title's after the song by the greeting committee <3 will always be the song that makes me think of tom the most)
YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE THE MOVIE TO READ THIS! plot of the film is totally discarded lmaooo
author's note part 2: there's a moment where the reader mentions that sometimes people think her and tom are siblings, she does not necessarily mean that they look alike! she means that they ACT like siblings and could be related through adoption or marriage-- her appearance isn't described and it's left open-ended for anyone to insert themselves ❤️
before we get started, I'm including a convenient cornish dictionary for you all to use if you're not already familiar with the dialect! other terms might pop up but they'll be explained in the text
teazy - acting grumpy or throwing a tantrum; something you might say to a kid having a fit or an adult who is being childishly negative
tuss - insult referencing male genitals; similar to 'knob' or 'dick' in UK and US english
my 'ansum - common, platonic greeting for men ("my handsome")
my bird - common, platonic greeting for women
rich - lovely, endearing, or beautiful
diddy? - a phrase used to mean 'is that true?' or 'really?'; diddah? and issuh? mean the same thing
wasson? - a greeting; short for "what's going on?"
jumping - very angry
hanging - terrible, gross
scat - (NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING lol) to push or fight someone
geek - a quick look; you can 'take a geek' at something
“Leave off, m'fine." Tom crinkled up his nose as he tried to brush your hands away, but you fought to keep dabbing the cuts on his face with the washcloth.
"Fine? You look like you lost a fight," you frowned.
"Well, we won the match, so," he smiled, but winced when you went back to the cut just above his eyebrow. “Fuck off, that hurts!”
“Couldn’t hurt as much as it did when you got it,” you insisted. “C’mon, it’ll scar if you don’t let me clean it up right.”
“So? I thought the lasses liked scars,” he grinned. “Makes me look tough.”
“Makes you look like you got your arse handed to you.”
Tom really wasn’t built for rugby. Though he certainly wasn’t in bad shape, he was the slimmest of all the guys he played with; he was fast, he had that going for him, but the poor kid got pummelled every time he played.
“Wish you wouldn’t go out there,” you mumbled, one of those rare times that you admitted how much you hated seeing him get hurt.
“Wish you wouldn’t worry about me when I can take care’a meself,” he replied.
And that was how it had always been— Tom was just reckless like that, and you had to try to reign him in as best you could. You could remember so many nights spent this way, you trying to scold him enough that he might be a little more careful; but considering you’d been doing this since you were just little kids, you eventually gave up on trying to stop him and just decided to be there when he needed a little comfort.
You might’ve always been Tom’s greatest comfort. So many things in life are uncertain, temporary, fleeting. Not you; you’d always been there, as long as he could remember— even longer, really. And not just because he had a shit memory from all those rugby concussions.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll look beat up in all our holiday photos?” you asked him, speaking quietly since you were so close to his face to treat his injuries.
“Why’d that bother me?” he shrugged. “You think I’m gonna be lookin’ at me own stupid mug in photos?”
“Don’t say that,” you shoved him on the shoulders as he laughed, leaning back into the couch. “You’ve got a nice mug, if you didn’t get it all mucked up.”
“You think m’pretty then?” he cooed sarcastically, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes; you giggled and shoved him harder, this time knocking you both back until he was laying on the couch and you were on top of him.
“Yeah, pretty daft,” you replied, and he snorted.
“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your back.
“Lemme go, need to get a bandage for your face,” you explained as you squirmed.
“Nuh uh,” he denied your request, “not letting you up— sorry, birdie.”
“Tommy!” you whined through a laugh, struggling harder against him, but he just held you tighter and grinned down at you. Giving up, you made a pouty face and rested your chin on his chest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you until you frowned for real and gave up, turning your face again to lay your cheek down on his shirt.
He gave you a kiss on top of your head, and you let your eyes fall shut.
“Maybe just a little rest,” you decided, your voice already slurring— you were more tired than you thought.
“Mhm,” he agreed, brushing his fingers over your hair. “Just a little, huh?”
You nodded groggily.
“Alright— sleep tight, birdie…”
You were only tired because you’d been up way too late, packing for your trip to St. Ives with your and Tom’s families. Joint vacations were nothing new to the two of you— actually, his parents and yours had been taking trips together since before the two of you were born. There were pictures of you and Tommy, chubby little babies in your mums’ arms, riding on the London Eye; you’d watched a home video a few times where you were playing in the sand together at a beach in Valencia. You weren’t sure why they felt the need to fly all the way to Spain for beaches when there were plenty here in Cornwall… but, case in point, this trip was going to be a much more relaxed (and budget-conscious) one: a roadtrip across the county, a couple rooms at a beach-side inn, and some much needed time in the sun for the next week. Tom promised to teach you how to surf, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to figure it out anyways— but you looked forward to trying. Really, you looked forward to Tom’s hands on your waist as he tried to help you find your balance.
Truth be told, despite being secretly in love with him since you were fourteen, you never really expected anything to happen with Tommy. You were like brother and sister— even his parents treated you like a daughter, and vice versa— and you’d always been so close. There’s always that fear of confessing to someone you’re close with and ruining the friendship, but this was even worse than that. If you lost Tom, you’d lose everything.
So, it wasn’t sad— there wasn’t a lot of pining anymore, not many nights spent gushing into your diary about it and then crying yourself to sleep because he got a new girlfriend or something. It was peaceful now, the one-sidedness of it. You loved him, he didn’t notice, everything went on as usual and that was it. You kept dating other guys, though Tom never liked any of them, and he dated other girls that you pretended to get along with until they split after a couple weeks.
In fact, dating was the topic of the hour as you and Tom sat in the back of his dad’s suburban, trying to entertain yourselves on the long drive to the beach resort you’d be staying at.
“That girl Dani,” you remembered, focusing most of your attention on a sudoku from the book you’d brought for the trip. “She was fit— why’d you break up again?”
“Too clingy,” Tommy shrugged, not looking back at you; he was toying with the friendship bracelet around his wrist, the one you’d made for him at summer camp when you were eleven with blue and yellow and black chevrons. Since you gave it to him, you’d never seen him without it, which is why the colours were all faded and dirty now, and why you were glad you made it adjustable all those years ago… he certainly outgrew the original size by now.
“I thought that was Claire,” you recalled.
“Oh, her too,” he nodded.
“This seems to be a problem for you,” you noticed, “clingy girls. What does that even mean?”
“Means they get, like, possessive,” he clarified, holding his hands up almost like a motion of choking someone. “Wanna know what you’re doing all the time, want a text every half hour— it’s too much.”
“That just means they like you, Tommy,” you rolled your eyes. “You shouldn’t dump girls over that.”
“They usually dump me,” he corrected.
“What?!” you squeaked, before you cleared your throat when you noticed what your utter disbelief might imply.
“Guess they just get, I dunno, jealous?” he explained, crinkling his nose as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Jealous?” you repeated, looking away from the page in front of you for the first time. The way he was looking at you— head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a small frown— you realised what he meant. “Of me?”
“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, “I mean, we spend so much time together.”
“But we’re just friends,” you noticed.
“That’s what I try to tell them!” he insisted. “I mean, I say that you’re my best mate and all but I don’t even think of you like that— c’mon, I’d never…”
You looked back at the half-solved sudoku, letting out a sigh that you hoped you could pull off as frustration with the number grid before you.
“Guess they don’t believe me,” he concluded, “or they don’t care.”
“They must think it’s bound to happen one day,” you posited. “That we’ll get together, I mean.”
“Yeah— but don’t you think if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already?” he pointed out.
You bit your lip. “Yeah,” you agreed curtly.
"Hey— whatever happened to that lad with the crooked teeth you liked so much?" Tommy asked.
"You'll have to be more specific," you huffed, keeping your eyes trained on your puzzle.
"He had specs and a freckle right on the end of his nose," Tommy continued.
"Oh yeah! Frank," you reminded him of the boy's name. "What, did you actually approve of him or something?"
"Course not," Tommy scoffed. "Jus' wondering, 'cause you used to go on about him all the time— 'bout how he was so wonderful and all." Tommy rolled his eyes, just to make sure it was perfectly clear that he didn't approve.
"Erm, well," you stalled, "yeah, haven't talked to him in a while."
Tommy wouldn't buy an excuse like that from you, he knew you far too well. Leaning in, he titled his head to try to get a view of your face. "Did something happen with him?" he pressed, and you swallowed.
"Yeah, I mean— nothing really," you shrugged, "he just got upset that I didn't wanna take things too fast, I guess. Called me a slag and threw my phone— didn't crack, though, got lucky there—"
"Diddy?" Tommy spat, his anger obvious on his face. He sat back up when you nodded, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Shoulda told me, would've scat 'im down and beat his face in. Can't be talking to my birdie like that."
Your heart skipped a beat. His birdie.
"And throwin' your phone, too? Bleddy tuss," Tommy sneered, shaking his head as he looked out the window, like he was trying to calm himself down.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you get especially Cornish when you're angry?" you giggled.
"Only twice a day, birdie," Tom laughed.
Did anyone ever tell you that it turns me on?
“We’re here!” your mum announced, and you looked up to see that the car was turning in to a roundabout driveway. Tom excitedly leaned against his window, looking up at the hotel. “Wow,” he breathed. “Look!”
He guided you to lean in right up against him, pressing your cheek to the glass so you could see the tall building. It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything— this wasn’t that kind of place— but it was at least ten stories, with white bricks on the outside and seafoam-green shutters on each window.
With the car parked, Tom and the dads were going through the boot while his mom ran to use the loo and you and your mom checked in.
You weren’t really paying attention, honestly, while your mom gave the woman at the front desk a credit card for incidentals and all that. The interaction only piqued your interest when you heard her confirm— “three rooms, then?”
“Yep,” your mum agreed.
“Three?” you repeated, looking up at her.
“Yeah— your dad and I, Gary and Marie, and then another room for you and Tom.”
You cleared your room. “Tom and I get our own room?”
“You think us old geezers wanna be kept up all night by your giggling?” she snorted. “Figured you two could entertain yourselves just fine, give the grown-ups some space.”
Before you could decide how to react to that, the opening of the front doors got everyone’s attention. Tom looked ridiculous trying to carry as many bags as he could— all of yours, plus his and his mom’s�� and you snorted as you watched him waddle into the lobby with all of them.
“What floor are we on?” he asked, the strain in his voice apparent and hilarious.
“Ten,” you informed him, and he groaned.
“Kidding! Three,” you chuckled, “and there’s a lift.”
“Aw, Jesus,” Tom grumbled as he walked past you, struggling under the weight of the bags. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, birdie.”
“I didn’t tell you to carry all those,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the concierge again as Tom turned the corner to find the lift.
“Is that your boyfriend?” she asked, continuing before you could answer. “You two are adorable.”
“O-oh, er— no, actually,” you stammered, “just a friend.”
“Oh!” she mumbled. “I see, my apologies.”
You looked down at your phone for just a second, only to hear your mom make a strange noise— a little giggle, and you saw her and the woman at the desk looking at each other. “What?” you asked your mum.
“Nothing, dear,” she dismissed.
“What?!” you hissed, groaning when she hid a cheeky smile but said nothing. “You’re so weird sometimes, mum…”
“Anyhoo,” the concierge mumbled, “you’re all ready to go! Three king bed rooms, third floor, ocean view—”
“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, “all the rooms have a king bed?” She nodded. “Just a king bed?”
“Well… there’s a couch,” she offered.
You deflated slightly. “That might be a little strange.”
“Oh,” she hummed, “well, I could change your room if you’d like. But they won’t be connected anymore…”
“That’s fine,” you shook your head.
“Okay, there’s a room with two twins across the hall,” she explained, reading from her computer screen.
Ugh, a twin was gonna be uncomfortable, but so would just one bed. “That’s fine, thank you.”
She clicked around on her keyboard for a bit, and right as she looked up at you again, Tom appeared from around the corner again. “All done,” she announced, “I’ve changed your room for you!”
“You what?” Tom choked.
“She’s just changed our room for us,” you explained to him.
“Ah god,” he panted, laying his head against the wall while he caught his breath. “Birdie, I just put all the bags away…”
You sighed, and the woman piped up again. “I could still change it back for you, if the bags are too much trouble.”
“Please,” Tom breathed, and she nodded and started up with the keyboard again. Rolling your eyes, you brushed past Tom flippantly.
“I’m gonna change,” you announced.
“Goin’ up to the room?” he asked.
“No, I was going to strip in the hallway and hope nobody walked through,” you replied snarkily.
“I was just gonna give you the key, birdie,” he smirked, pulling the plastic card out of his pocket. You chewed your lip, regretting being so rude.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from him and moving along to the lift.
~
You’d only brought one swimsuit, the new one you’d bought just for this. Maybe you’d had this crazy idea somewhere in the back of your mind that if you wore a tight little bikini, you’d finally get Tom’s attention and he’d stop seeing you just as the little girl he’d grown up with. If you’d been a little less emotional and a touch more logical, you would’ve checked the weather first.
Yes, it was a beach, but it was still an English beach… the sky was grey and cloudy, and without sunlight, the ocean breeze was less refreshing and more chilly. Very chilly, in fact, when you had hardly anything on like this. You were trying so hard to act natural, to lay there on that chair on the beach and look as gorgeous as possible for whenever Tom came out, but it was so cold… every few seconds you were tensing up your jaw to try to fight off a shiver.
He came down a couple minutes later, wearing his swim trunks, but since he was apparently smarter than you, he was also wearing a half-zip jumper and a t-shirt underneath. You pretended not to see him coming and laid still, only reacting to his presence with a polite wave when he was too close to ignore.
“Not gonna get much of a tan in this weather,” he noticed with a laugh as he sat next to you.
“I’m not tanning, I’m… relaxing,” you explained.
“Want me jumper, birdie?” he offered. “You look freezing.”
“I-I’m fine,” you insisted, but your teeth chattered. Next thing you knew, he was peeling it off over his head anyways— his shirt stuck to it and started to lift, too, exposing his stomach. He managed to get the jumper off, though, and pulled it down over your face as you laughed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Tommy, stop it,” you whined, batting his arms away so you could put the garment on yourself— he’d been trying to force it on you and accidentally trapped your face in one of the sleeves.
When you finally navigated your limbs through the borrowed sweater, popping your face out and breathing in a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck inside the cotton for a moment, you saw him looking at you… different. Just a little different, but different nonetheless. You wrinkled your eyebrows together at him, and he shook his head with a little laugh, and it was all back to normal again. “Should keep you warm,” he mumbled, turning back to the view of the ocean and bringing his feet up onto the chair.
“Thanks,” you nodded, watching him lift his hands up behind his head and sigh.
For a while, you two laid there in silence, the sound of the ocean waves and seabirds like a quiet, slow song. If you weren't thinking constantly about whether or not Tom was looking at you, you might've been able to relax enough to fall asleep. Apparently Tom wasn't all in his head because he dozed off within a couple minutes, and after that, you decided to get up and explore the beach a bit. There were little shops dotted here and there, a gelato stand, a cosy open-air pub playing music over their speakers.
You stopped to watch some boys playing volleyball on the beach, and one of them seemed to notice you staring— and he smiled at you, just before he served; you had to be careful not to make yourself look stupid by suddenly smiling down at the sand and toying with your hair, but you desperately wanted to. He was cute, and tall and, you know, shirtless. They all were, but he probably looked the best that way of any of them.
He ended the round with a spike right beside the net, and his side of the court cheered while the others groaned and complained to each other. You clapped for them, and the boy looked at you again; he said something to his friends, and with the ball still under his arm, he jogged over toward you.
"Hey," he greeted with a sideways, pearly-white smile.
"Hi," you returned.
"Did you like watching us play?" he asked, glancing back at the net for a second.
"Yeah, you're really good," you nodded. "Are you a real team or somethin'?"
"No, god no," he laughed, "we just play for fun. Not many sandy beaches to play at in London."
"Oh, you're visiting from London? What part?"
"Southeast," he replied.
You nodded. "Oh…"
There wasn't much you could say to that because you didn't know anything about London; he chuckled, apparently realising just that. "I guess you're from around here?"
"Sort of— an hour down the way but, yes, I'm from Cornwall," you agreed.
“You’ve got an interesting accent,” he noticed with a smirk. “It’s cute, actually.”
“Oh, y’think?” you smiled shyly. “Always heard growing up that a Cornish accent made me sound like a dumb farmer or somethin’.”
“It works on you, though,” he decided.
"Oi! Come back and serve!" one of the boys by the net called, and your new friend turned his head around.
"Go on without me," he told them, tossing the ball over. "I'm talking to, er…"
He looked back at you, and you stammered out your name; he repeated it back to you with a smile.
"I'm Devon," he told you.
"Well, hi, Devon," you smiled.
Aaaaand, just in time, you heard Tom’s voice calling after you: “Birdie!” he shouted from down the beach, and you turned and sighed as you waved back.
In a moment, Tom was beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.
"Where'd you run off to, my lover?" Tommy asked with a tilted smile, but he didn't give you a chance to answer before he looked over at the other young man and back at you. "Who's the emmet?"
"My name's Devon, not Emmett," the Londoner corrected, and you hoped your polite laugh would break the tension.
"No, Devon, 'emmet' is Cornish," you explained. "It's what we call tourists."
Except, ‘incomer’ is what you call tourists. Emmet is what you call annoying tourists. And you knew Tom was annoyed by him because he was hitting on you.
"This your girl, then?" Devon asked Tom… a little straightforward, but that's just how Londoners are, maybe?
"What's it to you?" Tom wondered.
"Er—" you interjected immediately, "no, actually, Tom's just a friend," you coughed, knowing that even though it was a way to greet a good friend around here, Tom surely intended for it to be misinterpreted.
"Bloody hell. Can't tell what you people are saying," Devon grumbled, and you spoke up before Tom surely asked what 'you people' was supposed to mean.
"Anyways, point is— Tom and I are good friends, known each other since we were kids," you continued.
"Really?" Devon pressed.
“Yep," Tom replied with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, "she’s been me best mate since we were wee babes,” he beamed.
“A bird’s your best mate?” Devon scoffed. “Sure you’re not bent?”
“I’m bent? You’re the one spendin’ all your time with a bunch of blokes with no shirts on, mate,” Tom defended.
Devon stepped forward and you had to jut yourself in between them to keep it from getting too heated. “Okay, lads, let’s settle down, then—”
“Be careful,” Tom warned Devon, and you jabbed him with your elbow as punishment.
“I said to stop it, alright?” you hissed at Tom. “Doesn’t matter, Tommy.”
“Yeah, Tommy,” Devon snickered, and you literally had to lean all your weight onto Tommy to keep him from trying to dive right over you to pummell the bellend.
"Let's go," you informed Tommy as you scoffed at Devon. Wrapping a hand around Tom's waist, you guided him to walk with you back down the beach, away from the possibility of a fight.
Tommy could find a fight anywhere— even on the beach on holiday. It was a real talent of his.
"You're horrible!" you whined as you punched Tom on his side.
"What did I do now?" he groaned.
"You scared that boy off, he was cute and he was flirting with me."
"Exactly!" Tommy emphasised, and you rolled your eyes. "He turned out to be a wanker, anyhow, you heard him making fun of our accent, didn't you?"
"I think he was just making fun of your accent," you frowned.
"We've got the same one," Tom noticed.
"Well— just stop doing that! You always do that."
"Sorry, birdie,” he shrugged, not seeming especially sorry.
You sighed and decided to let it go, because it wasn’t worth the argument. “What’s next, then? Think I’ve had enough of the beach.”
“Pub?” he suggested, and you laughed.
“Hardly late enough for that, don’t you think?” you snorted.
“Okay, dinner first, then pub,” he offered instead.
“That’s better.”
~
There were a few pubs along your walk back from dinner, but only one that had the rugby match on; so, of course, that was the one Tom picked. It was almost entirely empty when you came inside, and since the match had gone to commercial break, Tom decided now was the best time to run to the loo.
“Order me something?” he requested. “Whatever you’re getting.”
You nodded and he dashed off down a hallway. Sitting at the bar, currently unattended with no other patrons but yourself, you looked up at the telly on the wall and caught a couple seconds of a car commercial.
“Can I get you anything?”
The voice made you turn your head away from the telly, and you were surprised to find a boy your age on the other side of the bar.
“Oh, erm,” you choked, “just something on tap? M’not picky.”
“There’s a stout we brew right here in the neighbourhood,” he suggested, “you might like it.”
“Sure,” you shrugged, “and one for my friend.”
“Great,” he smiled, bending down below the bar and reappearing with two pint glasses in hand. You watched him as he tilted the glasses and filled them from the tape, admiring his tan skin and longer hair— he had that surfer look about him, in a Cornwall sort of way.
“Aren’t you a little young to be tending bar?” you noticed.
He laughed, revealing some dimples in the process. “And you’re one to talk?” he shot back.
“I’m old enough to be served, aren’t I?” you challenged.
“Well actually, I was gonna ask for your ID,” he admitted, “but, you’re cute, so I decided to let it slide.”
You looked down as he set your drink on the bar for you. “Thanks,” you hummed. You tried it, giving him a nod of approval when the taste hit your tongue— it was pretty mild, and sort of grapefruit-y somehow.
“In town for holiday?” he assumed.
“Yeah,” you nodded, and he clicked his tongue.
“Too bad,” he shook his head. “When are you going back home?”
“Thursday.”
“And where’s home?” he asked. “You sound local.”
“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, “about an hour north.”
“Liskeard?” he guessed, and you shook your head. “Launceston?”
“Closer,” you smiled.
“Bradworthy?”
“Oh, too far…”
“Holsworthy,” he grinned.
“Got it,” you nodded.
“Seems like it’d be easier to just drive up to Westward Ho! wouldn’t it?” he tilted his head.
“I try not to go anywhere that has an exclamation mark in the name,” you explained, and he chuckled a little.
“I guess that’s fair,” he shrugged, “and it’s a good thing you came here anyways.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because now I get to look at you,” he cooed.
You took a sip of the beer to hide your warming face. When you brought the glass back down, he laughed at you softly.
“Got some foam on your nose, my bird,” he warned you, reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.
“Oh, th-thanks,” you stammered, watching him put his thumb to his mouth and suck that bit of foam off while he kept looking at you. What a flirt! Do it again.
Tom came back from the washroom and sat on the stool next to yours, thanking you for ordering his beer for him before he took a large drink of it.
"O-oh," the bartender choked, and you knew that look— the ‘shit, you've got a boyfriend’ look.
You sighed. "Hey, um— this is my friend, Tom," you explained.
"Wasson?" Tom greeted him, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement.
"Not much, mate," he replied, "Cade.”
“Tom,” he answered back as if he didn’t already know that, not going so far as to shake hands since Tom was holding his glass and Cade was holding a rag to wipe down the bar.
“She was just telling me you're only here for a spell,” Cade recalled, “which is a proper shame.”
You smiled shyly. “Oh, yeah, well, I wish our holiday could be longer, too.”
“Always the prettiest maids just here on holiday,” Cade nodded, looking at Tom. “You know how it is, don’t you? You’re from a holiday town, too, I heard.”
Not quite as popular as your current location, but yes, vacationers would occasionally appear in town. You’d never noticed this ‘girls visiting from up-country are prettier’ principle, but your eyes turned to Tom expectantly. “Uh, yeah,” Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I know how it is. And half of them have boyfriends back home.”
It made your heart sink a bit— what you would give to have one of those. Or to have Tommy say no, the prettiest bird’s right here with me now. Or both.
“But that doesn’t stop all of them,” he added with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.
“You’re awful, Tommy,” you shoved him lightly.
“Yeah,” he agreed, licking his bottom lip.
Cade gestured at Tom’s rugby union shirt— “You play?” he asked.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Tom nodded, “you?”
“I just watch,” he shrugged, pointing at the telly in the corner. “Cooped up in this pub all the time, anyway.”
“That’s no excuse,” Tom chided, “gotta get out there and get roughed up!”
“That’s what surfing’s for,” Cade smirked.
“Okay, now I’m definitely not going,” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna get roughed up by the ocean!”
“I said I would teach her,” Tom informed Cade, “now look what you’ve done.”
“Sorry,” Cade laughed, “you’ll be fine, and you’ve come at just the right time of year for it.”
“That’s what I said!” Tom agreed.
Oh god, were they actually getting on alright? Would Tom give his approval, finally?
You sipped your stout and let them go on about rugby and football teams for a while, letting yourself get your hopes up that Tom would actually like a guy who liked you— and sure, he was a barkeep in your holiday spot, not exactly the foundation for a serious relationship, but it would be nice to have a little fling without worrying that Tom would end up beating him up.
Tom was the one who made fun of you sometimes for being a virgin, anyway. He never meant it— actually, when he occasionally took the time to be serious, he assured you better than anyone else that it was perfectly normal and fine to still be one. But still, you weren’t exactly trying to hang onto it much longer. Tom told you to wait for the right person; but you’d been waiting for him for way too long.
Watching the match together, you and Tom put down a few pints and laughed at some stupid old inside jokes— Cade tended to stick around, chatting with you both, when there weren’t other customers to serve. You caught him glancing at you a few times, and you liked how you felt when he looked at you like that— desirable, maybe even grown up. You and Tom had been friends since you were little, after all, and since he treated you the exact same way he always had, sometimes you still felt little around him. But you weren’t. It was good to remember that.
The match ended— Cornwall won, thank god, or you’d be babying Tom all night after he drowned his sorrows in something stronger than the local stout. He still drank a little too much to celebrate, but less too much.
Enough that he had to go to the loo again, though, at which point Cade was suddenly right by you again. “Your friend’s funny,” he smiled.
“Yeah,” you agreed, “he’s not always that loud, but, yeah, he’s never been very subtle.”
“And he’s just a friend?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you insisted, and you focused your tone on your annoyance and not your disappointment.
“Just checking!” Cade returned defensively. “How long have you known him?”
“My whole life,” you sighed. “Can’t remember a time without him. He’s just… always been there.”
Cade nodded. “That’s nice, wish I had a friend like that. People come and go a lot in a place like this.”
“I bet,” you offered sympathetically. “And your girlfriend? Does she come and go, or stick around?”
“What? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he frowned.
“Just checking,” you winked.
“Why, you think I should get one?” he raised an eyebrow.
You shrugged. “If you can find one…”
His eyes dragged over you, his smile fading slightly; you pretended not to be totally overwhelmed by it all.
“Cade!” a voice shouted from the back, and an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen as Cade turned his head. “Come back here an’ clean up!”
“I will, mum!” he called back, before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I’d better get back to work— but you could come by tomorrow? If you wanted.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think I’ll find the time.”
“Tom can come too, of course,” he added, leaning closer to you on the bar, “but… I’d rather have some time alone with you, if that’s alright.”
Reaching up to scratch your shoulder, you bit your lip to hide a smile. “Okay, yeah—” you set your hands back down on the bar when you saw the way he was looking at you, “yeah, I’d like that, too. I’m sure Tommy can find some way to entertain himself for an hour.”
Cade’s hand landed on yours suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze while he winked at you. And then he threw the rag over his shoulder and disappeared into the back. You pursed your lips and exhaled through them; it had been a while since you had butterflies like that.
Tom came back around the corner, leaning beside you on the wooden bar, and you giggled when you saw how red his nose had gotten from the booze. “Tommy, you look like you’ve stuck your face in blusher,” you noticed.
“Aw, really?” he scrunched up his nose, wiping it with his hand.
“You can’t wipe it off!” you laughed harder. “Cade’s gone to the back to work— wanna go on a walk, take a geek at the rest of the neighbourhood?”
“Sure,” he agreed, letting you take his hand and pull him along with you out the door and around the pavement. You walked in silence for a few moments, glancing at him once, before you just had to bring it up.
“So, Cade was nice…” you trailed off. You looked at Tom expectantly, wearing a hopeful smile, but you hadn't even said anything yet before he expressed his dissent.
“No, no way,” he shook his head, ignoring your protests, “not good enough for you.”
“What? Tommy, what’s wrong with him?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Tom repeated. “Birdie, what’s right with him?”
“I thought you liked him!” you whined. “He was so nice to you, and you talked rugby for ages!”
“Was looking at you funny,” he shuddered.
“Well, I’d hope so,” you rolled your eyes, “doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”
“That’s what you want, creepy guys drooling all over you?” Tom snorted. “Come on, let’s go— I don’t want you seeing that sod again.”
You groaned, but let him drape his arm over your shoulders and guide you away. “You shouldn’t be so protective, Tom… this is why everyone thinks you’re either my brother or my boyfriend.”
“If it keeps the boys away from you, I don’t care what they think,” he decided. You rolled your eyes as he pulled your head down with his arm, enough that he could plant a kiss on top of your head. “There, now they’ll think I’m your boyfriend, how about that?”
“You kiss me all the time,” you laughed.
“Eh?”
“On the head,” you clarified. “You give me kisses on the head, doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”
“Guess not,” he agreed.
Halfway along your walk, you passed a park which Tom decided would be the perfect place to share a cigarette— actually, he was just going to smoke it himself, but you made him share.
“Remember your sixth birthday party?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, after a drag. “You tripped and sprained your ankle running in the backyard that day, but you stopped crying when we gave you your presents.”
You laughed at the memory. “God, I barely remember— but yeah.”
He handed the cigarette to you and you rested it between your lips. “Do you remember what I got you?” he continued.
“A Barbie,” you recalled, “wasn’t it? She was some little princess or something, can’t remember now.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, I want you to know that before I gave her to you, I took her out of the box and took her clothes off.”
“What?!” you snorted, making a cloud of smoke
“I had to know!” he laughed. “I put them back on and put her back in the box and everything first before I gave her to you.”
“Yeah, I think I would remember getting a naked Barbie, Tom,” you scoffed, and he carefully plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took it back.
“Right, well—” he stopped to inhale, and then let it out as he continued— “she had plastic panties on anyway. Wasn’t worth it,” he shook his head.
You dropped your forehead into your palm. “The fuck are you talking about?” you giggled.
“Just that time of night where you feel like confessing things, I guess,” he shrugged.
“Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” you pressed. “Any other childhood toys of mine that you violated?”
“Took a geek up the skirt of a Cabbage Patch Kid or two,” he added, “but that’s about it.”
“Well, we all did that,” you rolled your eyes, and he grinned at you.
“Oh, I knew it,” he purred, “I think you were just as much of a pervert as I was.”
“Yeah? But you’re still a pervert,” you accused.
“Maybe,” he relented, “but at least I’m not a prude.”
You looked away quickly. “M’not a prude, Tommy…”
“I know, I know,” he soothed, handing you the last quarter of the cigarette, “you’re just picky. And you should be.”
He suddenly laid his head down on your lap, making you tense up a little bit and wonder where you were supposed to put your hands.
“Nobody deserves you anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the bench.
“Well, that doesn’t really solve my problem, does it?” you said, speaking a little quieter.
“What’s the problem?” he wondered sleepily.
You sighed, holding the cigarette in your mouth as you reached down and carded your fingers through his hair. He hummed and smiled a little. “Nothing,” you dismissed, and he started to breathe slower and slower.
You finished the cigarette over the course of the next however-long-it-had-been, absent-mindedly touching his head and playing with his hair, and only noticed that Tom had dozed off when you felt a wet patch under his mouth on your legs.
“Eww, Tommy!” you whined, shoving him off of you as he tried to wake up. “When I said I wanted guys to drool over me, this is not what I meant.”
“Sorry, love,” he laughed, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think that’s our cue to go back to the room and go to bed, eh?”
~
He didn’t say anything before he got in the shower, so you didn’t know what to expect when he got out: was he going to suddenly realise there was only one bed? Had he already and just didn’t care? Were you supposed to protest, or act like it was no big deal, or what?
When he emerged from the steamy bathroom in his pyjamas— aka, just his fuzzy plaid trousers, the ever-present friendship bracelet, and the chain on his neck— he found you standing in the middle of the room, staring at the singular bed, and gave you a confused look.
“I guess you saw when you brought our bags up,” you mumbled nervously.
“Eh?”
“The bed.” You motioned towards it, and he wrinkled his eyebrows together.
“What about it?” he shrugged.
“There’s only one of it!”
“Oh,” he nodded, “yeah, guess so.”
“So, we’ll have to share,” you helped him reach the obvious conclusion.
“Oh,” he said again, “you think it’ll be weird?”
“I mean, I figure,” you shrugged.
“I’ll take the couch,” he insisted.
“No, Tommy, let me,” you pleaded.
“You jokin’? I’m supposed to let a maid sleep on the couch?”
“Didn’t realise you were such a gentleman,” you frowned, crossing your arms.
“Aren’t I?” he smirked.
You felt bad about it, but he was already putting a spare sheet down on the sofa while you were getting through your nighttime routine. Leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you caught a glimpse of him laying there on the couch with one arm up behind his head and the other holding the book he’d been reading as of late— one of those fantasy novels that were much too violent for you. He looked past the top of it to smile at you, and you popped back in to wrap up.
You were just wearing a baggy old t-shirt that was just long enough on you to cover your red panties, which you felt mostly not-weird about wearing around Tom, though walking past him to get to bed made you shiver a little bit.
“G’night,” he offered.
“You too,” you replied quietly, and he reached up above his head to switch off the lamp.
Sure, it was you who had worried about the whole bed-sharing thing in the first place, but that was only because you were pre-emptively worrying that he would worry about it. It was sort of a lose-lose: if he was against it, then you’d feel dejected, but if he was fine with it, it was another way for him to rub it in that you could hold him but never have him.
Still, now that you were alone in this big old bed, you couldn’t help but think that at least it was nice you could hold him… but he was all the way over there.
You chewed your lip, trying to stay quiet. You made it about thirty seconds. “Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Think you’ll fall asleep alright on that?” you wondered.
“Should be asleep in a couple minutes, once you’re quiet,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled. You made it a whole minute before you spoke again. “Tommyyyyy,” you whined.
“What!” he snapped.
“I can’t sleep, I feel too bad!” you pouted. “Just get in the bed? We fall asleep together all the time! What’s the difference?”
“Difference is it’s all night,” he explained, “haven’t done that since we were eight— and you kicked me in your sleep!”
“Are you seriously going to sleep on that musty old sofa, and leave me alone here in the king bed, just because you’re still mad at me for kicking you?”
“Not just that,” he mumbled, “you snore, too.”
“Shut up,” you groaned, “just come over, won’t you? I’m cold anyways…”
He paused as he considered it. “There’s room for me?”
“Tons,” you promised.
You heard him throw the blanket off of himself, and you smiled instantly. In a moment, he was diving into the bed, and you laughed as the mattress creaked; he laid next to you on his back, and you reached an arm around his torso while setting your head on his shoulder.
He smelled so good after his shower, clean and woodsy from his deodorant, and his curls held their shape despite being wet still.
“Should’ve known you’d be like a barnacle soon as I got in here,” he chuckled.
“I said I was cold,” you reminded him, hugging his waist tighter.
“Night, birdie,” he whispered after he kissed the top of your head. With him holding you, you were asleep in an instant.
It was one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly, like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes. You would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night when you woke up, if it weren’t for the sun coming in through the open window.
Specifically, you woke up because of a long sigh right by your ear, making you blink your eyes open quickly and start to stretch your legs out under the sheet and blanket. You were on your side, and Tommy was pressed right up on your back, his arm draped around your torso.
He sighed again, and you felt him shift around against you. Most importantly, you felt something hard and hot on your lower back. Eyes going wide, you jolted as you felt him rock his hips against you again.
"Tommy," you whispered, hoping to wake him up.
"Mm," he hummed, smiling against your neck, and you shuddered.
"Tommy!" you hissed, and he snorted as he woke up suddenly.
He pulled back and all but jumped away from you. “Shit, I—” he mumbled, sitting up as the bed creaked; god, his face was so red, he looked adorably flustered and a bit terrified. “I’m sorry, birdie, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”
“It’s okay, Tommy,” you insisted, sitting up with him, “it’s not a big deal.”
“What’d you say? It’s not big?” he choked.
“No! Tommy, it’s—” you stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say then. “I know that happens to guys in the mornings…”
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “happens when we’re in bed with pretty girls, too…”
Before you could wonder if there was something to read into there, he spoke again.
“I’m fucked,” he groaned, running his hand down over his face, “what’s the time?”
“Ten ‘til 9,” you informed him following a glance at the clock on the nightstand.
“We’ve got that breakfast soon, we’re supposed to meet downstairs in five minutes,” he recalled. “And I can’t get dressed ‘til he’s gone away.”
“How do you normally get rid of it?” you wondered, watching him look at you for a second before looking away again.
“Well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.
“Well?” you pressed.
“Y-y’know,” he stammered, “it’s— er— fuckin’ hell, birdie, can’t say it with you lookin’ at me like that…”
“C’mon, Tommy, I know you wank off,” you rolled your eyes, “you and every other bloke on the planet.”
“But I can’t do it with you here!” he yelped, and a pang of self-consciousness hit your chest. Were you that horrible of a sight that he wouldn’t be able to finish with you nearby?
“I-I’ll leave then, give you some space,” you offered.
“Birdie, I’ll know you’re just outside the door, that’s not gonna help,” he frowned.
“Well shit, Tommy, where’dya want me to go? Fuckin’ Launceston?”
“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, reaching up and covering his face as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “You’ve just got me all messed up— s’not your fault, I mean! I just don’t know what m’gonna do now…”
You bit your lip, glancing over at the flowery wallpaper on the opposite side of the room, then to the window and its view out over the beach. “I mean, maybe… maybe if it would help, I could…”
“Jesus, birdie, don’t say you’re gonna wank me off or somethin’,” he pleaded with a concerned tilt of his head, and you stammered as you tried to remember what you were going to say.
“No, I— I was gonna say you could…” you began again, “er— I mean, before, while you were asleep, you were… it was…”
“What?” he pressed, leaning a little closer to you, and you chickened out.
“Nevermind, sorry,” you shook your head, “you should just get dressed— nobody’ll notice it.”
That was a lie: if it looked as big as it felt, a family of four could go camping under the tent in his shorts at this point. “No, c’mon,” he pleaded, scooting a little closer to you, “won’t make fun of you or nothin’, just wanna know what you were gonna say. You know I can’t run down to breakfast with my willy tryin’ to jump out, yeah? Like, ‘hey mum an’ dads, pass me the eggs, then— don’t mind my fuckin’ blood sausage under the table—’”
You laughed, pushing him on the chest— but he just moved closer, again, looking right at your face. You felt oddly exposed to him, even though he should’ve been the one feeling like that considering the circumstances. “Fine,” you relented, “I was just… thought maybe you could— well, it could help you if you, um… just… pressed up against me, again? Like you were before? And you could, er…”
Dropping your voice to a mumble just above a whisper, you watched your hands clutch the spotted quilt in lieu of meeting his invasive stare.
“You could… grind on me, a bit,” you finally completed, so quiet that you barely heard yourself. But he was a few inches away— he must’ve heard you. Literally, he must have, because you couldn’t say it again.
“Eh?” he grunted, and you rolled your eyes.
“C’mon, Tommy, you’re not deaf, are you?”
“No, m’just… you wan’ me to rub me stiffy on you?” he realised, tilting his chin down and raising an eyebrow. Leave it to Tommy to throw all the subtlety to the wind and just say it outright like that, ignorant to the way it made your cheeks burn and your throat catch.
“I-I mean, I don’t want you to,” you denied quickly, “I just thought it might go away if you did. Means to an end, right?”
“Yeah, means to an end,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “Just feel a little weird about it, birdie, I mean… it’s you. You know I love ya— don’t wanna be rude to you or, er, disrespectful—”
“It’s not,” you promised, “I’m offering— and it’ll be quick, right?”
“Er, yeah,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, “should be…”
“Okay, then, should we?” you asked, sheepishly raising your eyebrows as you looked at him.
“I mean, fuck, birdie,” he laughed nervously, “I think you know we shouldn’t.”
But you both already knew that you were going to, and the thrill of something so forbidden titillated you further.
“Lay down then, yeah?” he instructed you softly, and you turned back onto your side as you felt him press up to your back. His arm slipped around your front, the one with your bracelet on his wrist, and you could feel him breathing by the back of your neck as he brushed your hair out of the way. “This alright?”
You nodded, and he held you a little tighter; you felt it then, brushing up against your lower back. You were getting sweaty from how warm it was with him pressed up on you under the thick covers, yet you still shivered.
He hummed quietly, his hand moving down your hips so he could hold you steady. And he rocked into you again, more confidently, a shaky breath falling from his lips.
When his forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, you felt your back arch slightly; and then you could feel the ridge under the head of his cock, you could feel it when he moved in one, long stroke and you bit your lip, arching your back deeper.
“Shit,” he grunted quietly, and he started to move a little faster right after he said that.
After just a minute or less of that, you were beyond desperate to have him inside you, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like— about how he would stretch you open, how he would moan for you as he filled you to the brim. If he wanted to, right now, he could just lift up your shirt a bit and pull your panties down without saying anything, slip inside you in one go; you were soaking wet, he’d slide in so easily…
“Fuck, birdie,” he breathed, “roll over.”
His verbal command was a bit moot, since his hand was already on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your back. He hovered above you for a moment, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered; you’d only been waiting years for him to say that to you. You did it unquestioningly, and he slotted himself between them with a low groan. When he pressed his cock up against your aching cunt— through so many frustrating layers of pyjamas— he shut his eyes and tossed his head back for a second. It was so perfect, his face in bliss like that, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains and making his curls shine golden-blonde. He looked fucking beautiful.
A little gasp jumped in your mouth as he started to thrust against you again, each stroke of his hips rubbing right over your clit and making his chain dangle over your face. You almost felt guilty, for a second, with the little engraving of Saint Thomas right there, like he was watching you do this. “Sh-shit, Tommy…” you hissed, catching yourself before you moaned aloud when he rocked his hip harder against you and your whole pussy clenched. If only he could feel that now— if only he could feel around his cock how desperately you needed him.
He descended down upon you, burying his face in your neck. His hair tickled your cheek, and you fisted at the sheets to stop yourself from reaching up and holding onto him— that would be too much, too needy, right? It was just supposed to be a means to an end, after all. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked under his breath.
“Er, why would you do that?” you wondered.
“Just— thought it might make it go faster,” he justified.
“Y-yeah, Tommy, s’fine,” you nodded. Do whatever you want to me.
He latched on right away, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth all over your neck; everything in you fought to keep your moans down, because you didn’t want him to know how much you loved this, how close you were to coming without even doing anything… without even taking your clothes off!
“Are you close?” you asked him softly, feeling him nod.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, and his heavy breathing cooled your skin where it was still wet with his spit. “Just a little longer?”
“You’re not gonna give me a hickey, are you?” you whispered.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied.
“Just— make it quick, Tommy, we’ve gotta be downstairs soon,” you reminded him.
“Right, yeah, m’gonna come,” he promised, sending another chill over your body. One of his hands moved down, holding your thigh as he thrusted faster and faster— fuck, the headboard was about to hit the wall. Just as you looked up to see it slam once, you saw his free hand reach up and grab onto it tightly, blocking the impact with his knuckles.
“Tommy,” you breathed, an involuntary reaction to how deliberately sexy that was.
“Say it again,” he requested quietly.
“Tommy,” you repeated, and he grunted right against your ear— he didn’t stop moving entirely, just slowed down quite a bit as he rutted on you.
“Fuck,” he sighed, panting. You swallowed, feeling wonderfully strange knowing that must be it, that he just came— because of you. His weight sank down onto you, making you let out a little squeal from the air rushing out of your lungs, and he laughed quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting himself up and hovering above you again, “didn’t mean to crush you…”
“S’all fine, Tom,” you promised, closing your legs as soon as you had the chance— before he could see that you’d soaked through your panties.
“Oh, ‘Tom’, eh? Gettin’ formal, are we?” he grinned. “Now that you’ve got me to bust in me trousers, we’re not so friendly anymore?”
“Shut up,” you laughed as you pushed him aside, swinging your legs off the bed so you could get up. “Gonna use the loo and then I’ll get dressed.”
“What?!” he croaked. “You kidding? Of course I get to use the loo first!”
“Not if I get there before you,” you challenged, jumping up and trying to race him across the hotel room. He beat you, but only by playing dirty— he ran up behind you and grabbed you, spinning you around as you kicked and laughed and squirmed in his grasp.
two weeks later
Moonshine on the bay had become a tradition on nights like this, when the warmth of summer was creeping around the corner, ever since you were both fifteen and in desperate need of some rebellion. Now, without the illegality and all, it had lost some of that titillating appeal, but you still loved going out so late and meeting him at your secret spot. It had the perfect view of the water at night, not that it was a particularly scenic section of the sea since it was mostly cargo ships and docks and all that, but under the flickering old street lamp and the tall field elms, it was almost romantic.
Tommy was currently still standing while you leaned back on your hands, brandishing the liquor he’d secured for the evening. “For you,” he offered you the opened bottle with a smile, and you took it, but waited for him to take a sip of his first. He did, and you saw his lips curling as he drank.
“How is it?” you asked, and he stopped drinking to cough a bit.
“It’s hangin’!” he grimaced. “But it’ll do the job.”
You took a sip while he sat down next to you, and made a face of your own. “Ah fuck! That’s terrible! Where the fuck’d you get this?”
But you knew what he meant when he said it would do the job— one sip was already warming your chest, and the next, though just as disgusting as the last, made you feel tingly at the tips of your fingers.
With your bottles halfway finished, you two sat up in the grass and watched the lights of ships go by slowly in the night. “Had a date last night,” you blurted out suddenly, just to make conversation.
“Really? With who?”
“You remember Jack Meyer?”
“God, I wish I didn’t,” he sneered, “what a knob.”
“Could you stop insulting all the guys I go out with?” you frowned.
“Stop going out with knobs and I will,” he bargained.
“Anyways, he was nice,” you announced firmly. “Took me to the cinema and bought me a popcorn.”
“What size?” he asked.
“Medium.”
“Cheap bastard,” Tom grumbled.
“Shut up! I’m trying to tell you that it was a nice date!” you yelped, pushing him on the shoulder. “We actually, um… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”
“What?” he wondered.
“I mean, I tell you everything— you tell me everything. You told me when Sharon Caldwell let you feel her tits in eighth grade, and you told me when you lost it to Annie— what was her name again?”
“Annie Shaw,” he finished for you.
“Right… so, point is, I figured I should tell you what happened with me and Jack, right?” you wondered. When you found the courage to look over at Tommy, his expression was… intense. Almost angry, a little terrified.
“Don’t tell me you gave it up to him,” he pleaded, leaning in a little closer.
“God no! I just wanked him a bit.”
"You did what to 'im?!" Tommy yelped.
"W-well, I dunno!" you backpedalled quickly.
“Aw, birdie, you can do so much better than him,” he groaned.
“Okay, maybe so, but he’s the one I wanted to go out with. And he was nice and he made me feel— I dunno, pretty?” you mumbled, afraid to sound too girlish.
“Come on, you can’t go rubbing off any guy who calls you pretty,” Tom scolded.
“This isn’t just any guy!”
“Yeah, it’s Jack Meyer. In fourth year he swallowed a penny and it never came out!”
“Believe it or not, Tommy, it's not fourth year anymore,” you frowned. “Things are different. We’re older. I’m not a little kid— and I’m tired of being treated like one!”
He sighed slowly, taking another swig of the booze. “I guess that’s fair,” he relented. “Still… can’t stand thinking about you doing that to some guy.”
"Why?"
He seemed confused by your question, and gave you a look.
"Why can't you stand thinking about it?" you interrogated.
"I… I don't know…" He coughed a bit, clearly wanting to change the subject, but you kept staring at him as you waited for an answer. “I guess it’s just that,” he began again, “I worry because it’s Jack, you know? He’s a little aggressive with girls— or, he was back when I knew him. He didn’t… pressure you into it, right?”
You thought back to the night before, and how it all happened. “Erm, no,” you decided, “not really.”
“Not really? What’s that mean?”
“Well, he didn’t make me do it,” you explained, “but he was… showing me how, ‘cause I didn’t know.”
“Sh-showing you?” Tom repeated.
“He, erm, he took my hand,” you remembered, feeling your heart start to race as you looked at Tom closely. “And he put it… he put it right here.”
It was the liquor that made you do it; you pressed your hand up to the front of his trousers, feeling him getting firmer under your touch already. He jumped a little but didn’t stop you.
"He told me to take it out for him…" you continued, voice wavering as your whole body was suddenly shivering from nervousness, and started to open his trousers yourself.
“Birdie,” Tom gasped, and you looked up to his face again.
“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him point blank. He didn’t say anything. “Can I keep going?”
His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily through it; he nodded. You unzipped his fly and reached in, navigating the opening of his boxers to get his cock out.
Of course, you’d felt it before, but you’d never seen it. It was as beautiful as a cock could be, you thought: tanner than the rest of him for some reason, flushed at the tip, still just starting to poke out from his foreskin with a teal vein running up under your palm. Biting your lip, you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around it. “H-he told me to stroke it, like this,” you stammered, moving your hand gently and slowly from the base to the tip and back— then again, and again.
Daring to glance up at Tom’s face again, you saw him watching your hand with a dumbstruck expression. You twisted your hand slightly as you reached the tip and he groaned. "Birdie…" he sighed— his voice wore some impossible mixture of arousal, confusion, scolding, disappointment, and desperation. It made your knees weak. Good thing you were still kneeling on the ground, so it didn’t make much difference. You were so sloshed that standing up would’ve been a bit of an effort, anyway.
“When I was doing it right,” you continued, “he’d tell me I was bein’ good for him… it made me feel weird when he said that, but good. You know?”
“Y-yeah…” he choked, hissing through his teeth.
It went on that way for a little while, just his panting and the crickets chirping; though there was clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, you thought it might not be enough, so you pursed your lips and let your spit dribble down onto him so you could spread it out with your hand.
“Christ,” he groaned, “Jack taught you that, too?”
You nodded, and he growled a little— the sound made your chest tighten up (as well as a few other places). His cock was starting to bob against your grip, and his breathing was faster and heavier with each stroke. "You're close?" you noticed, and he nodded, chest heaving as he stared down at what you were doing to him. "You can come, Tom. I want you to."
"Shit," he hissed. "Shit, jus' don't stop then."
And you didn't, in fact you moved your hand even faster, until it was just a blur and he was bucking up into your palm desperately.
"Ah, fuck!" he gasped, and come started to spurt from his pulsing cock, landing on his shirt and your hand. "Fuck…"
You watched his face as it tilted back, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth parted in a little moan. Your hand was still moving, and his jumped up to grab your wrist and stop you. Then it was still, and silent, except for him breathing like he'd just run a marathon.
After a moment, he tilted his head down again and came back to reality; he instantly looked mortified. "God, birdie," he choked, "I made a mess on you— m'so sorry, let me get it…"
He tried to wipe the come away with his shirt, frantically cleaning your hand up as best he could. "It's fine, Tommy," you giggled.
"No it isn't, I've got your pretty hand all dirty now…"
Examining his focused expression as he wiped up the smears of come, you bit your lip slightly. You did feel guilty for making up that whole story about a date with Jack Meyer that never did— and never would— happen, but it worked. You’d never lied to Tommy like that before, but you decided to blame it on the liquor and not your desperation.
In the two weeks since your holiday, nothing untoward whatsoever had happened between you and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t even talk about it! You, of course, thought about it every day— well, really every night, when you touched yourself and tried to remember exactly how his voice sounded in your ear. That was what drove you to this, to getting drunk and making shit up for a chance to touch him.
"Kiss me," you said suddenly. He looked up at your face, and you just stared at each other for a second.
His hand dropped yours— it was clean now, or clean enough at least— and moved up to hold your face. You sighed slightly; his thumb stroked your cheek and he smiled at you.
He gently tilted your head down and met you halfway, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your chest deflated and your eyes fell shut. So this is what heartbreak feels like. It's not as bad as I thought.
"That better?" he asked as he pulled back, moving his own face down so he could look up at you with a tender smile. You nodded, willing yourself not to cry in front of him now.
You were throwing yourself at him and he was throwing you away. "We'll always be friends, won't we?" you asked quietly.
"Aw, birdie— of course," he cooed, pulling you into a hug. You clutched at his shoulders, digging your nails into handfuls of his ratty old Nirvana t-shirt.
He rolled back onto the grass and pulled you down with him, making you laugh and try to get away— but he wouldn't let you go.
"We'll always be friends," he promised again, "'cause otherwise who'd keep all those awful boys away from you?"
"Shut up," you rolled your eyes.
"I will," he sighed, relaxing his grip on you slightly. "I'm gonna ease up on you, I think. Let you date somebody if you want— even if he's a tosser. 'Cause you're right, you're not a little kid anymore. And it's not fair to you."
You swallowed, laying your head on his chest. You'd never actually wanted him to let you date someone else… you just wanted him to finally love you back. But maybe this was the best you were going to get.
~
“Go, Tommy!” you cheered from the side of the pitch, though he surely couldn’t hear you through all that.. rugby-ing. Rugbing?
Whatever— point is, you clapped and hollered anyways as you watched him run all over the place, narrowly dodging being tackled a few times. You winced when he got taken down from the side by one of the biggest guys out there. Tommy had a high pain tolerance, but you’d rather not see him lose a tooth or something. What a waste of a perfect smile that would be.
For all their efforts, Tommy’s team lost by just a few points; it was just a scrimmage, hence why there was basically no one else here but you and the actual team members, so you hoped he wouldn’t be pouty the rest of the day after losing. He didn’t seem to be, from what you could tell this far away— he was shaking hands and bumping fists, sweaty and streaked with dirt and grass as he chugged from his water bottle. It really should not have been as attractive as it was…
Before you got caught ogling, someone caught your attention: “Hey,” one of the players jogged up to you, and you blinked up at him blankly, not sure who he was. You’d definitely seen him before, you remembered his dreads and… overall massiveness. But you weren’t sure what he was talking to you for. “You’re here with Tom, yeah?”
“Oh, yes,” you smiled.
“He said you’re an old mate of his,” the player went on.
“Mhm,” you nodded.
“Sweet of you to come cheer him on,” he laughed, “even though it didn’t seem to do him much good today.”
You shrugged. “He loses a lot, but he always gets back up.”
“I’m Rhys, by the way,” he offered. “I’d shake your hand or somethin’, but I’m pretty filthy at the moment.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed. “Surprised you haven’t gone to the showers already, that’d be the first thing I’d be doing after getting that sweaty.”
“Well, I was gonna,” he explained, “but, well, I was afraid you’d be gone before I got back.”
You raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, and he continued on.
“Listen, I asked Tom, but I figured I should ask you… er…” he stalled as he smiled nervously. “Have you got a boyfriend or anythin’?”
“Er, no,” you answered.
“Issuh?” he laughed.
“Yes!” you insisted. “You think I’m lying or something?”
“I think it’s a little too good to be true, that’s all,” he explained. “Girl like you shouldn’t stay single too long.”
You kept waiting for Tommy to come ruin it— to come rescue you. You glanced over, and you saw him look back at you, but he just smiled and kept working on the laces of his cleats.
“So, I guess I should ask for your number before it’s too late, yeah?” Rhys continued. You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up at him and dropping your mouth open as you hoped for some words to come out.
“Oh! Erm,” you began, “well—”
“It’s okay if not,” he promised, “but, you know… I’d like it. So I can call you sometime or something— maybe I’ll have worked up the nerve to ask you out by then.”
Your cheeks were warm, but so were the backs of your eyes. You never thought you would miss it, Tom running up and putting his arm around you, shooting whatever guy you were talking to a glare that made everyone feel uncomfortable; you glanced over at him again, watching him chat and laugh with some of the other guys. He was just going to let this happen, wasn’t he? And so were you. “Yeah,” you finally blurted out, “sure— got your phone now? I’ll put it in for you.”
“Great,” he smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you. “Wow, that went surprisingly well.”
“Are you that surprised?” you laughed as you added yourself as a contact.
“These things don’t normally go right for me,” he explained.
“For you?” you glanced up at him incredulously.
“Now, don’t give me an ego,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him.
You quickly held his phone up to take a selfie with your tongue sticking out, adding it as your contact photo. “There you go,” you handed it back to him, and he looked at it with a wide smile on his face.
“Aw, that’s rich,” he said, and you bit your lip. “I really should hit the showers now, but, I’ll call you?”
“Okay,” you smiled, “I’ll answer. Probably.”
He waved at you as he left, looking down at your contact in his phone one more time with a shake of his head, before disappearing into the little tunnel through the stands.
You told Tom you would wait for him until he was all done, but god, he was taking forever getting cleaned up. In fact, everyone else had left when he finally came out in his change of clothes and found you leaning against the cement wall outside the practice facility. “Fuck took you so long?” you groaned as he appeared.
“You know how long it takes to wash off after a match like that?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t have walked home with me in the state I was in.”
“Okay, fair enough,” you sighed, “can we go now?”
“Well, um— actually, I have to get my bag from the locker room…”
“Oh my god,” you whined.
“Don’t get teazy, I just have to pack up all my gear,” he scolded.
“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, “and helping you carry it so we can get fuckin’ home already.”
“Fine, fine,” he laughed, starting back as you followed along with him. “Lucky for you, it’s empty.”
“Aw,” you faked a pout, “no sexy rugby boys to look at?”
“Just me,” he smiled— and fuck, he was joking, but it scared you for a second.
There was a little awkward pause while he guided you around the bend into the locker area, left surprisingly clean after the boys were finished; it was only Tom’s locker open, with his things all strewn about, and you sighed. “Look at the mess you made…” you breathed, starting to help him clean it up and get his things together.
“Rhys finally asked you out, then?” Tommy grinned, elbowing you lightly.
“O-oh, yeah,” you breathed, “erm, well— he just got my number, no date yet or anything.”
“Well, it’s a start. I didn’t want to give him your number for you, but he asked me for it— actually, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”
“You think he’s good enough for me?” you asked.
“I mean, I dunno,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice enough— figure you can decide the rest.”
You sighed, nodding a little.
“If he tries anything, though, you let me know and I’ll set him straight, alright?” he added, and you laughed.
“Alright, I will,” you agreed, kneeling down to get some of his clothes from off the floor and stuff them into the duffel. “Not sure how you’re gonna do that when he’s got a metre on you and maybe twenty pounds of muscle—”
“Shut up,” Tom scoffed. “You know I can take any guy down if it’s got to do with you.”
Your throat caught, and you stood up again. "Tommy, listen, I actually— I wanted to… talk to you."
He cleared his throat, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? You're all good, right? Everythin's okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, leaning back against the lockers, "I just… I was thinking about you."
He stepped up closer to you, close enough that your heart started to race. "Oh… what about me?"
"Well, about us," you clarified, "you and me— I want… erm…"
"Hm?"
"I just— you know how we sometimes…?"
He leaned his head in a little closer, waiting with raised eyebrows for you to get to your point.
"That thing we do, sometimes?" you started again. "I wanna… do it again."
He nodded, like he understood, but then paused and moved his mouth over to the side. "You wanna go to the cinema?"
You laughed, more out of frustration than amusement, and tilted your head forward to rest on his chest. "God, Tommy…"
"What?" he laughed.
"I— I want—"
You couldn't look up at him as you said it. You took a deep breath and tried to compose your bravery.
"I want us to touch each other again," you finally rushed out. You waited for him to say something, or do something, but he didn't. “Like when we were on holiday,” you recalled, toying with the hem of his shirt. “And that night on the bay…”
“God, birdie, I— I dunno if I can do that again,” he breathed, and you felt your eyes start to burn a bit.
“Really, Tommy?” you sighed. “I’m that… repulsive? Or is it Rhys? ‘Cause all he’s done is get my number—”
“N-no,” he groaned, “shit, m’not makin’ any sense. I can’t do that again with you because it’s too hard, okay?”
You looked up at him, knitting your eyebrows together. “What’s too hard?”
“Touchin’ you like that,” he whispered— even now, the way he said made your spine tingle— glancing down from your eyes to your lips and back, “and havin’ to act normal again. Not bein’ your boyfriend.”
Of everything you thought he might say then, you never expected that. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even when you bit your bottom lip. A laugh broke out through your grin, and you had to cover your mouth to try to hide it.
“Jesus, you’re laughin’ at me now!” he lamented. “I finally tell you and you laugh at me! You’re heartless, you know that?”
“No, Tommy, v’got a heart— and it’s all yours,” you promised, standing up on your toes to peck him on the cheek. He gave you a confused look, and you laughed again. “You don’t get it do you, still? I’ve fancied you for ages— proper in love with you, really. Kept askin’ you to do all that stuff ‘cause, well, you’re all I think about anyways. Thought you were just doing me favours.”
After a pause, he finally laughed with you. “Am I a fuckin’ idiot, then? You’ve had it goin’ for me all this time and I didn’t notice?”
“You’re a little stupid,” you mitigated. “I think I was being pretty obvious.”
“Yeah, and what about me?” he noticed. “I’ve been all over you forever— kissin’ and huggin’ you, cuddling all the time— you didn’t notice that I think you’re fit?”
You shrugged. "You've always been like that."
"Yeah!" he emphasised.
"Ohhhh," you nodded, "hm. Okay, we're both a little stupid."
“Birdie,” he smiled, and your heart melted, because he’d never said it quite like that before. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.
“You can really kiss me, you know,” you told him, and he pulled away just enough to look at you with an impossible-to-read expression. “I-if you want,” you mitigated suddenly, and he smiled at you, then laughed.
“Aw, fuck, Tommy,” you turned your head to the side, “you’re awful…”
He put his hand on the side of your face, gently turning you to look at him. “Yeah,” he agreed. And then he moved in closer and kissed you— properly, finally. You shut your eyes, your chest emptying with a sigh; his other hand held your face then, too, and you reached up to hold his wrists. Your right hand felt the worn-out old bracelet that he still wore, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit against him. He smiled, too.
“Tommy,” you sighed, reaching out and grabbing him by his belt to pull him closer. He pressed his forehead on yours, looking down at your hands working on the buckle shakily.
“Birdie, c’mon,” he gasped, “not here—”
You pouted a little, and he laughed.
“We waited all this time and you can’t wait until we get home?”
“Yes!” you whined. “I need you…”
“Shit,” he groaned, kissing you again— but just for a few very passionate seconds before he pulled back once more. “We’ll go home and I’ll do this right, I swear.”
“Why can’t we just do it here?” you wondered.
“Because if you told me some guy had taken your virginity in a rugby practice field locker room, I would kill him,” Tom frowned.
You laughed. “Fine, fine… let’s go home.”
~
Thank god his parents weren’t home. You didn’t want to try to be quiet.
He had you in his bed the second the door was shut, kissing you voraciously as he helped you undress and tore his own shirt and trousers off. For a guy who was just preaching patience, he was pretty hasty all of a sudden.
When all you had on were your panties, he set his arms straight to hover over you and stare down at you, looking a little dumbstruck. You almost felt self-conscious enough to try to cover your chest, but he smiled at you and you felt a little better. “You’re so… fuck, birdie, you’re pretty.”
It was a simple compliment, but it felt incredibly powerful when he said it like that. He was in his boxers, and it wasn’t too much more skin than you’d already seen while swimming with him and such, but it was different with his massive hard-on making a visible imprint in the patterned cotton.
Gently, he spread your legs, and tightened his jaw at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear. “Oh, fuck,” he sighed.
“I always get like that,” you admitted quietly. “Should be easy for you to fuck me, right?”
“Yes, yeah,” he agreed, “but m’not gonna fuck you yet.”
You frowned a little, and he laughed as he kissed you again.
“I told you I’m doing this the right way,” he insisted, “it’s your first time. It’ll hurt if I just go for it.”
He leaned back and sat up, bringing his hands down to the waistband of your panties and gently dragging them down your legs; you felt gooseflesh spread all over your body.
“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he opened your legs again, looking right at you now. You squirmed a little, but his grip on your thighs was tight. “I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind about this… ‘cause I can already tell I’m gonna have a hard time stopping once I start.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you were sure, you were so sure. “I haven’t changed my mind,” you promised.
“I won’t get mad at you or anything,” he assured.
“I know— I’m sure,” you breathed. Wondering if you should return the sentiment, you asked, "You're sure you wanna do this? With me?"
"Birdie, I've wanted to do this with you since I knew what this was," he smiled.
"And you don't mind that I've never…"
"No, birdie, I don't mind," he laughed. "Think it's perfect actually. Couldn't let any other lad be your first. Couldn't let any other lad touch you like this."
You bit your lip. “You were gonna let me go out with Rhys,” you reminded him.
“I let you give him your number. We hadn’t even gotten to you going out with him,” Tom corrected. “And I was acting fine as best I could but I was really jumpin’, birdie, thinking about if something might happen with you two— something like this…”
You whined as you tugged on his shirt, hoping to hide your face in his neck, but he pulled his face back so he could look down at you with a smile. "Tommy, please," you whimpered.
"Please, what?" he encouraged.
"Jus' need you…"
He kissed your neck again, making your back arch and your hands grab onto his shoulders, and pressed his hips down against you. You whined at the feeling of his erection through clothes, but opened your eyes in confusion when he pulled back again just a moment later, hovering over you. "Say my name when I make you come, yeah?" he instructed, and you nodded. "Try it on for size just once, why don'tya," he encouraged with a smile.
"Tommy," you smiled back, and he kissed the tip of your nose.
"That's m'girl," he praised, before crawling back down, kissing a trail over your stomach, moving his hand up your thigh.
He just kept his face right up close to you, watching his finger swipe through your folds, then watching it gently circle your clit. You whimpered, and felt your insides flex on nothing. Apparently, that made him want to give you something to clench on— he gently slipped his pointer finger past your opening, and you let out a long sigh.
“So warm inside,” he observed. He pulled the finger back out a second later, putting it in his mouth and humming happily. He put his mouth on you at the same time that he put the finger back in, along with a second; that was a lot to take in, and your back arched up off the bed instantly. He mouthed at your clit, swirling his tongue around while his lips created this wonderful pressure; you had to grab onto his hair, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.
Eventually, he did have to break away for a second. "Wondered how you'd taste," he admitted with a sigh.
"Well?" you prompted.
"Taste like 'eaven, birdie," he purred. "Sweet little pussy— an' it's all for me?"
"All yours," you nodded, and he growled a little as he dove back in.
The tip of his tongue slid right up from your opening to where your clit was swollen and throbbing— he pushed his tongue flat against it and you whimpered loudly. He started to really fuck you with his fingers then, rather than just letting the natural movement of your hips force you to ride them; they curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your own fingers curl into fists in his hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t mind getting his hair pulled, apparently, and just moaned lowly against you.
The pressure started weighing on your gut after a while, your pussy tensing up on him faster and faster until it was just bearing down on him unendingly. “Fuck, Tommy,” you gasped.
“C’mon, birdie,” he mumbled against you, “wan’ you to come. Go ahead and come for me, yeah?”
You called out his name one more time, and it all spilled over at once; he shut his eyes tight, letting you pull his face right up against you by his curls as your hips bucked and grinded on him. You sobbed weakly, and when it was suddenly too much, he broke away and pinned you down for a messy kiss.
It left you even more breathless than you already were. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glazed over and his lips and chin were a lot glazed over; he gave you a crooked smile. “Taste how sweet you are?” he purred. You wouldn’t call it sweet, really, but it still turned you on like crazy to hear him say it.
“Please, Tom,” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “you’ll fuck me now, right?”
He nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, laughing when you groaned and punched him on the arm.
“Course I’m fuckin’ ready!” you snapped. “God, Tommy, you always give ‘em all this rigamarole first?”
He shook his head. “Just you, birdie… it was always just you.”
Kissing you again, his breath changed as he reached down to push his boxers out of the way and kick them off to the floor. The way it felt to have his bare skin against yours as he lowered himself down was… euphoric. Warm and soft and smooth, and when he wrapped you in his arms, it felt like he could just absorb you entirely. You wouldn’t mind it if he did.
He'd prepared you so well that there was only one quick sting of pain when he pushed inside you— though just that was still enough to make one tiny tear roll down your temple, which he kissed away softly.
"Are you alright?" he whispered. You nodded. "I need you to tell me, birdie."
"I'm okay," you promised through a sigh. "It hurts a little, b-but please don't stop."
"You're sure?"
"Please!"
He pushed his hips flush with yours and you gritted your teeth, though everything in you relaxed just a moment later; and all that was left was the fullness, the warmth of him, the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to you, and you bit your lip.
"I love you, Tommy," you mumbled weakly, and he planted one soft kiss on your mouth.
"I love you too, darling."
He carefully began to move, needing to reach down with one hand to keep your hips steady. Your moans were shaky at first, but got louder and more even with each movement.
"You're… so deep," you breathed. "Tommy, I— I didn't know anything could be so deep in me."
"Well, I am," he grinned. "I'm right… here."
He pressed down on your stomach, right on the spot where the tip of his cock reached— and your eyes rolled back. "Ohh, god," you whined.
"You feel it, love?" he cooed.
"Yes, yes," you groaned. "Fuck, Tommy, why didn't you tell me you had a perfect cock?"
He laughed a little, leaning down to kiss you on the jaw. "Guess it never came up."
"Does it always… is it always like this?" you wondered. "It's so good, does it always feel this good?"
He shook his head, kissing your forehead and then trailing down your nose and cheek. "No, it's not always like this," he answered quietly. "Not for me, anyway. It's never been like this."
His lips met yours again, and you reached up to weave your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. He groaned a little, moving his hips faster, and you smiled. "Do you wanna fuck me harder?" you asked.
"Fuck," he mumbled, "I— I could. Do you want me to?"
"I can take it," you promised.
Picking up the pace slightly, he held you tighter; and you felt each impact a little harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the room. “Like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” you answered— you meant it more neutral than it came out, it sounded proper pornographic the way you said it, and he smiled. “More, Tommy, please? Jus’ want more…”
He hissed but did as he was told, latching onto your neck with his lips as he let something a little more animalistic take over, making you cry out and hold onto him tighter. “Beautiful,” he grunted, “you’re so beautiful, birdie— you sound beautiful.”
“It’s just ‘cause you’re making me sound like this,” you sighed, clutching at his back, too overwhelmed by pleasure to worry about scratching him up.
“I’m giving you a hickey this time,” he informed you. “You want my mark on you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you admitted, “always, Tommy— fuck, always wanted it.”
“‘Cause you’re mine, yeah?”
“Always,” you whimpered.
“A-ah, shit— when it’s time, I'll pull out, okay?" he offered.
"No," you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips. "Tommy, please, want it inside…"
"Birdie," he breathed roughly, "if you say things like that, I-I'll come too fast."
“Don’t care,” you whimpered. “Promise you’re gonna come inside me.”
“F-fuck,” he groaned, “erm— yeah, m’gonna come in ya, okay?”
You choked out the shortest sob of joy. “Please, please— fuck, I’ll come again…”
“Yeah, fuck, c’mon then,” he praised, “just say my name, birdie— I wanna hear my name.”
“Tommy,” you cried, feeling him gasp against your neck as another wave of heat spread over your body; feeling him flex inside you right as you hit your own peak was so perfect. You could’ve never described your emotions in that moment with words, but they found their way out anyways: you started crying, instantly.
“Don’t cry, birdie, shh,” he soothed quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “C’mon, darling, don’t cry—”
“N-no, Tommy,” you sniffled, “I’m just happy— I’m so happy, I swear…”
So he let you cry, and held you close to him; he didn’t leave until you fell asleep, even though he said he was just going to get you a washcloth and a cup of water and come right back. He played with your hair and kissed your face, and just talked about all the normal things you usually talked about— as in, everything. But this time, it was actually everything, no more hidden feelings.
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but after one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly— like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes— you woke up tangled with him and his sheets. Turning on your side as best you could, you looked at his sleeping face and smiled to yourself. He woke up just a bit later, cutting your staring short, and smiled back at you.
“Top of the morning, my ‘ansum,” you greeted as you pinched his cheek. He laughed and batted your hand away, hiding his face from the sun under his arm.
“You kicked me in your sleep,” he grumbled.
“So it’s all over, then? Final straw, you’re finally getting rid of me?” you joked.
“Mm, I thought about it,” he snorted, making you laugh. He popped his face up again and started to kiss your face all over.
“Tommy, stop,” you whined.
“You can’t make me stop now,” he pointed out, “it’s one thing to get your best friend to stop kissing you, but your boyfriend? Nah, m’not stopping.”
You laughed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him only making you feel more ticklish and squirm more. You only stilled when he grabbed your face and gave you a real kiss, and everything seemed to slow down quite a bit. You kissed him back, properly, reaching up to weave your fingers in his hair. “So, you’re my boyfriend, then?” you noticed when you broke away.
“No, I think we’re still just friends,” he nodded, and you laughed and shoved him on the chest.
���Might as well be, everything we did before sayin’ we were only friends,” you admitted.
“I’m whatever you want me to be, birdie,” he promised.
#tom (make up) x reader#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#tom (make up) smut#make up (2019) fic#tom grant x reader#tom grant smut
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the duality of a man
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X-rated Education
a Tom Grant (Make up 2019) x FemReader story.
(warnings - swearing, some derogative labels, mentions of sex, sexual teasing)
Prologue
It was the first time in several weeks that Tom had given in and followed Kai and the other guys out to the local pub.
He had felt completely lost since Ruth left, ashamed and not in the mood for the other’s pitying looks or the (what he assumed) judgmental whispers behind his back.
”Tommy boy is so bad at pleasing women that his girlfriend turned dyke!”
That didn’t do wonder for a guys ego.
Tonight Kai had all but dragged him by his neck away from his trailer though, saying that the best way to get over a birdie was to bed another one.
But Tom didn’t even know how to begin? What if he truly was so bad in bed that Ruth turned gay?!
Deep down he knew it didn’t work like that but still his mind wouldn’t shut up about it.
After they had arrived to the pub and gotten seated at a booth Kai suddenly stood up and waved. ”I’ll be damned, there’s Y/N,” he said, gesturing for the woman to come over to them.
”Friend of yours?” one of the guys wondered.
”More like the daughter of my mom’s best friend, but we get along well. Tried to score with her a few times but she’s just never interested,” Kai told them, making Y/N hear the last part and she snorted as she sat down, in between Tom and Kai.
”Trust me, Kai, I’m not the only girl that thinks that way,” she told him with a smirk, making him give her a friendly shove before he introduced everyone.
Tom felt himself blush when Y/N shook his hand. She was a very pretty girl with y/c hair and y/c eyes and a sweet but alluring scent of perfume emanating from her. It was the first time he had felt anything else but sadness and betrayal since Ruth left.
Since the other guys soon turned to drinking games, pool or tossing dart only Y/N and Tom were left at the table. He felt himself tongue tied, like he couldn’t even talk to a girl these days but Y/N took the lead herself, asking if he worked with Kai liked the others, how he liked the work and then told him a little about her own life, that for the time being she was working at the coffee shop in town, taking a gap year before deciding if she wanted to go to the university or do something else. He also found out that she was actually older than him, not by much – merely three years, but it was a surprise. Somehow that made her even more alluring in his eyes, but that also made him more insecure of himself and his predicament.
Y/N was clearly a strong, confident woman. Beside her he appeared even more of a pathetic failure that made girls lesbians.
Y/N then asked if she made him feel uncomfortable – since he didn’t speak much. Tom assured her that wasn’t the case, once again feeling his cheeks heat up. ”I’m just... well, I guess I’m just shy around you,” he told her, chuckling awkwardly.
”How so?” Y/N wondered, her eyes wide, clearly not seeing her own allure.
”Well... I recently got out of a very long relationship and I suppose I don’t know how to be around girls now... being single,” he tried to explain.
Strangely enough it seemed like she understood.
”Oh. So it’s in that awkward phase when you haven’t really grasped the fact that now you are just a ’me’ not a ’we’?”
”Exactly!” Tom agreed. ”But it’s... more than that. She... she cheated on me. And... I don’t know, we’d been together for four years and she never gave any... that she was unhappy. And then all of a sudden she was with someone else.”
And that someone else had been a woman. He didn’t say that though.
”Wow,” Y/N exhaled. ”I’m so sorry. That must be tough.”
Then she frowned as she seemed to think about something. ”Wait... four years, you said? And you are... what? 19?”
”20,” Tom replied.
”Was she... was she your first girlfriend? The only one you’ve been with?” Y/N poked, a sympathetic look on her face.
Tom looked down on the floor, once again feeling that shame. ”Yeah,” he admitted.
”Oh my,” Y/N exclaimed, ”then I can understand you’re heartbroken. First love and one that you’ve been with such a long time...”
She placed her hand on his, squeezing it. He felt his heart skip a beat. She comforted him. She didn’t make fun of him, she understood!
Maybe that was why he finally told her everything or maybe it was the booze – how he felt so insecure about his ability to please a girl now, that he was questioning everything he had ever thought he knew, even the limited amount of experience he had. He was a guy with an internet connection, of course he knew there was more to sex than what he and Ruth had been up to. Problem was that they never really experimented, she never seemed to want to – or want him, for that matter. To her it was just something they did because they were supposed to. Kind of like the weekly laundry. And now he just felt he was so hopelessly left behind he wouldn’t know where to begin.
Y/N pursed her lips. What she suggested thereafter might also had been because of the booze but she found Tom so sweet and wanted to help him.
”Hey... what would you say if... I taught you?” she asked carefully, ”I’m currently single and I think I know enough of what makes women tick in the bedroom.”
Tom suddenly had a hard time breathing. ”W-what? You’d do that?”
”Sure,” she giggled, ”you’re cute and... it’s kind of hot that I get to be the one to... corrupt you. We can call this... X-rated education. Or SEX-rated education, if you want.”
Tom would lie if he didn’t admit his cock twitched in his jeans at that.
”O-okay,” he said, not really believing what was happening. Then he decided to simply go for it. ”C-could we... start tonight?”
She giggled. ”Eager are we? Me likey! Of course we can start tonight. If you think you can still... preform with all the booze we’ve had.”
Tom gave an adorable little snort. ”I don’t think that will be a problem, love.”
tag list: @ficsbypix @melodymunson @eddie-is-a-god
(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapter)
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Windswept - Part 1
Windswept - Part 1
Fic Summary: Still getting over his breakup with Ruth, Tom notices a familiar face has returned to Cornwall. Lonely and unable to sleep, he shows up at your trailer late one night. But as eager as you are to have him in your bed, you’re not interested in only being his distraction. (Part 2) Fics Masterpost.
Fic Rating: 18+
Pairing: Tom Grant/Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Established Friendship, Unrequited/Unresolved Feelings, Smut, Angst, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female and male receiving) Fluff
Fic Song: Windswept by Moonfall (It’s such a good sad song, highly recommend listening)
A/N: This one is for @delving-verilly. Hope you like it, hun! Also, I needed to give Tom some love because he is absolute boyfriend material and deserves all the good things.
Tom still doesn’t know the full story.
After what went down with Ruth, she never fully explained her actions or feelings. It was hard when she hung around. Seeing her every day and being completely ignored was like salt in the wound. It was like he never existed, like their long relationship never happened. Tom had to put up with it for several months until she and her…girlfriend moved without a word.
It got better when she left. However, it still wasn’t great. He still wasn’t great.
How could he be? The only girl he had ever been with, ever truly loved, betrayed him, and broke his heart. Cornwall is small, the staff filled with regulars. They all know about what happened and any new hires quickly learn about it. Tom can hear them whisper when they see him or see how they stop talking when he enters a room. For years he’d wanted Ruth to join him and once she did, she tainted it.
Tom keeps his head down, does his job, and goes through the motions.
Little by little the hurt lessens, and the anger dissipates. But it never goes away. Not fully. He can’t help but wonder if he could have said something, could have done something, to keep her. Was it him? Did being with him repulse her so much that she needed to run to someone else?
It's that thought that stops him from seeking any sort of physical comfort. There have been women since Ruth, vacationers who’ve shown interest or flirted. He never lets it go further because even though he’s sure it wasn’t his fault, he can never be one-hundred percent positive.
It’s late one night, on one of his bad nights, that these thoughts swim to the surface. The weather’s been cold, so there aren’t any of his usual outdoor activities available to keep his mind occupied. When it’s nice out, he’s able to distract himself with surfing or swimming. But when it’s like this, when he’s forced indoors, he's left alone with his racing thoughts.
Unable to sleep, he heaves himself out of bed and gets dressed. Jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and his gray hoodie are all he puts on to save him from the biting wind. He likes walking on nights like this, likes the chilly air on his face. It helps him feel.
The moon isn’t even out. The park is quiet, with most of the seasonal guests long gone. Only a few full-timers remain. Tom stays because…well, he doesn’t know why he stays, to be honest. What else is he going to do?
He does a full lap around the trailers, head bent against the wind, eyes trained on his shoes. He doesn’t need to look, knows the route by heart after having walked it so many times.
Except, tonight, there’s something different.
He sees a light in the distance. It creeps up on him, illuminating the ground bit by bit as he approaches. It takes a moment for him to register what’s going on. When he does, his head whips up and he stops in his tracks.
The light shines through the window of a trailer that was closed, at least, it had been the day before. He certainly hadn’t prepped it for anyone. There’s a chance someone else did but still, he would have heard about it.
Especially that trailer.
That one is yours. Had been yours. Tom hasn’t seen you in well over a year.
Before he can stop himself, he’s walking quicker, his hands balled into fists inside the pouch of his hoodie. His lungs are on fire from the cold but he doesn’t notice. Walking right up to the door, he raises his hand to knock. Then stops. In his excitement, he almost forgot that there’s a reason you left.
He used to see you every three or so months. You’re a writer and use the quiet of Cornwall to escape and work. It was always a treat, a highlight during his usually monotonous routine. You two would talk for hours, share a drink or a cuppa, and occasionally watch movies.
And you flirted. A lot.
Tom didn’t flirt back of course. He was with Ruth and devoted to her. Blinded by those feelings, he didn’t realize you were developing your own for him until the last time you visited.
You were respectful, never crossed that boundary, but you were honest. You told him how you felt, how you felt romantically towards him. You were also clear that you didn’t expect reciprocation, yet needed to get your feelings off your chest.
Tom played like he was surprised. Looking back on it now, deep down, he wasn’t, had always wondered if there was more to your flirtations. He held steadfast that he only regarded you as a friend, which you understood. It had been awkward, to say the least. After that, you withdrew. The hangouts and movie nights ceased. Eventually, you stopped coming around altogether.
Tom didn’t need an explanation. He could read between the lines. Of course, he had Ruth then so he didn’t dwell too much on it. However, you did cross his mind from time to time. He’d see your books in a shop or someone would visit who reminded him of you and he found himself missing your company.
And now, you’re back.
Tom realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. What he wants to say. He also realizes it’s incredibly late and, after a moment of consideration, he lowers his hand and turns away. He doesn’t get more than two steps before the door opens.
Spinning back around, he finds you framed in the doorway. “Hi stranger,” you say with a soft smile.
Tom has to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Hiya.”
“What are you doing out in the cold at this time of night?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you came to greet little ol’ me?”
“Didn’t know you were back.”
There’s a beat of silence and then you gesture over your shoulder. “I’m making some tea. Come in and warm yourself, silly man.”
The ease of your stance and smile makes it feel like old times. Tom finds himself smiling as well. “Yeah, alright.”
You step away and he walks into the trailer. It’s warm, which means it was prepped for your arrival. That, or maybe Tom is colder than he realizes. He closes the door behind him, watching you move around your kitchen. You must have just arrived because your suitcases are in the living room. A grocery bag sits on the counter, still full.
You reach in and pull out the tea. “You don’t have to stand there, make yourself comfortable.”
Tom walks towards the living room, brushing past you in the process. There’s a brief moment where he can feel the heat from your body and it sends a shudder down his spine.
You shudder too but for a different reason. “Fucking hell, you’re freezing,” you say. “Blankets are in the second bag to the right.”
He sinks onto the couch, grabbing the suitcase and opening it to find your favorite collection of fuzzy blankets. He’d almost forgotten, though he doesn’t know how. Usually, he can find at least two in every room of the trailer. They’re soft and purely for comfort’s sake. He wraps one around himself, discreetly inhaling the scent of detergent and that unique smell that is you. Looking up, he watches you move around the kitchen, unpacking your shopping.
You look good.
It’s so strange to see you after all this time. There are so many of your features he’d started to forget. Or maybe he made himself forget because thinking about your absence hurt too much. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Tom admits as you pull two mugs out of the cabinet.
You quickly rinse them in the sink. “Didn’t know if I was ever going to come back here, to be honest,” you admit. There’s nothing left for you to do except wait for the kettle. You lean against the counter, your fingers drumming on the surface.
“Where’d you go?”
“Home. Some book tours here or there but mostly stayed put.” You’re studying him as much as he’s studying you.
He wishes he could hear what you’re thinking. Your expression is calm yet your body language is tense. Normally when you returned, you would be spouting off stories about your travels or asking him what he’s been up to. He’s not used to this quiet version of you.
“Why come back now?” he asks.
“My agent doesn’t like my new stuff. Says it’s missing my old flair. Sadly, she’s right. I always wrote better when I was here.”
Tom is surprised when his heart sinks. A part of him selfishly thought you’d returned for him. It’s a cruel thing to wish for, especially since he had made it clear that he only considered you a friend, that his relationship with Ruth was important.
Seems like a bad joke the universe played on him. Push away the girl who shared her feelings while holding onto the one who didn’t.
“Shirley didn’t tell me you were coming back,” he says, hands curled around the edges of the blanket to hold it closed. He’s warmed up some yet the chill persists. Though, he’s not sure the weather is the cause anymore.
“I asked her not to.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Do I have to say it?”
Tom is spared from answering when the kettle whistles. You turn your back, busying yourself with making the tea. He notices you pour his into the mug he always favored, preparing his cuppa exactly how he likes it. Even after all this time away, you remember.
When you’re done, you carry both cups over to the couch and hand him his. He takes it graciously, the heat instantly warming his freezing hands. You don’t sit next to him on the couch like you normally would. Instead, you choose the armchair, tucking your bare feet underneath you.
“I’m sorry about Ruth.”
Tom averts his gaze and stares at the floor. So you do know. “Who told you?”
“Shirley, about twenty minutes ago. We don’t have to talk about it. I just…I wanted to say something. I know you loved her.”
“Yeah, I did.” Tom takes a sip of tea, not even caring that it burns his tongue. He welcomes the flash of pain.
You two fall into silence, quietly sipping your tea as tension hangs in the air. He hates it. Being around you used to relax him and bring him comfort. Now, it’s like neither of you knows what to say or how to act with each other anymore. When Tom looks up at you, you’re staring out the dark window. He studies your face, even though he’s seen it hundreds of times before, admired it even. You were always full of energy and humor. He remembers the laughing fits you two would have after the other said something ridiculous. He remembers how your face used to light up.
Now it’s stoic and pensive. Did he do that too? Did his rejection take your laughter and brightness away? Was that his curse? To take a lively woman and turn her against himself?
No, he can’t think like that. Won’t think like that. Not about you.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come back,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “Up until two days ago, I almost canceled.”
Tom processes your words, running his thumb along the handle of the mug clutched tight in his hands. “Why did you decide to come?”
“I missed this place,” you admit. “I missed the ocean, the quiet nights. I missed…I missed a lot of things about it.” You trail off, sipping your tea.
“Me?” he asks with a small smile.
You smirk and glance over at him. “Mighty presumptuous of you,” you tease.
“We were friends.”
“We still are, Tom. I never stopped being your friend.”
“But you stopped coming around. Never called or texted either.”
“I wasn’t doing myself any favors. And you made it perfectly clear where we stood. I figured distance would be best, for my own sake.”
“And was it?”
You finally turn away from the window to give him your full attention. “No. It didn’t make a difference.”
Silence washes over you once more as you drink your tea. Tom has no words, isn’t sure what to say to that. Does that mean you still have feelings for him? If so, he’s not sure how he feels about them anymore. How he feels about you. Everything is so different now. All he thought and knew had been a lie and now he’s left hollow and empty, a shell of his former self. How can you love a shell? Does he even want you to care enough to try? When you finish, you get up and take both empty cups to the sink.
Tom needs to leave. He needs to be alone with his thoughts. Everything is a jumbled mess and he’s starting to get a headache. Reluctantly, he stands, letting the blanket fall to the couch. “It’s late, I should let you get some rest.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty exhausted. We can catch up tomorrow or later in the week.” You’re washing the mugs, eyes trained on what you’re doing.
When Tom goes to slip by you, he feels that heat again and it stops him in his tracks. Like a moth to a flame, he steps closer. Unable to help himself, he turns his body towards yours. His arm slides around your waist and he presses himself against your back in what starts as a hug.
You instantly freeze, hands pausing their work. A moment later, you melt, leaning back into his embrace. The tension leaves your shoulders and you hum with satisfaction. Tom kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the closeness. It’s been long, so long since he’s touched someone, been touched. And now that it’s you, a whole smattering of feelings and thoughts come crawling to the surface.
You turn off the sink, absentmindedly drying your hands on the nearby dish towel. When you turn around to face him, Tom cups your cheek and kisses you.
It’s impulsive, not something he is planning or even thinking about until the moment your lips are within reach. Your gasp in surprise and he takes advantage, slips his tongue past yours to lick at the inside of your mouth. He thought he’d be clumsy and out of practice but he’s not. The more he kisses you, the better he feels, and the easier it is to lose himself in your lips. You wrap your arm around his neck, your body yielding to his touch as he traps you between himself and the counter.
Desire twists his gut and makes his stomach fall through the floor. It’s like kissing you hits a giant reset button and he’s bombarded with a slew of sensations he can’t identify or process. At least not right now, not when he has you in his arms and you’re so fucking warm, and soft, and responsive…
Tom breaks the kiss to catch his breath, opening his eyes to find yours already watching him. Your chest heaves as you pant, and it’s then that he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He can see your nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and it does things to him, makes him want to touch and grope. His cock is already straining in his jeans and he knows you can feel it press into your thigh.
You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with another kiss, harsher and rougher, this time both hands cradling your face. A moan escapes and the sound makes him feral, fuels the raging inferno inside that wants to consume. He kisses you harder and slides both arms around your waist so you can barely move.
“Tom,” you manage to whisper.
He says your name back, deepening the kiss, leaning the full weight of his body against yours so you can feel all of him, feel what you’re doing to him. His hands seek the hem of your shirt, gliding underneath, desperate to feel your skin under his palms. The brief touch alone is enough to send sparks through his veins.
There’s suddenly a hand on his chest and you push him back, breaking the kiss and all contact. You’re panting, your lips glistening from his kisses. He knows you want him, can see that your pupils are dilated. He can still hear your moan echoing in his mind. He wants you too, wants to lose himself in your arms and bed.
“Tom, what are you doing?”
That’s not what he’s prepared to hear and he blinks at you in confusion. “Thought it was obvious,” he says. “I’m kissing you.”
He tries to step forward but your hand is persistent, keeping him right where he is. “Don’t,” you say, your voice dropping low and your eyes pleading with him. “Don’t do this. Not right now.”
It’s like someone douses him with ice-cold water. Every feeling and racing thought stops dead in its tracks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, wrapping his hand around yours. “Do you not want this?” He felt you kiss him back, felt the way your body molded to his. He knows you enjoyed it. At least he thinks you enjoyed it. Those anxieties start to creep back.
“Not if it’s just to make you feel something. Not if it’s just a distraction.”
The air is sucked from his lungs and he just stands there, staring at you while he takes in your words. Is that what he’s doing? He didn’t think he was. He was just reacting to what his body wants. And right now, it wants you like he’s never wanted you before. Never wanted anyone before he dares to think.
Tom tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He says your name, gently holding the hand that’s pressed to his chest. Once again, he makes a move to step forward and once again you stop him.
“Go home,” you say in a gentle voice, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “We can talk more later.”
As if in a daze, Tom finds himself leaving your trailer. Once he’s in the cold, he lets out a shaking breath. Steps hurried, he heads to his own trailer, his mind replaying the kiss over and over again. He’s frozen by the time he gets home. Inside does not offer the same warmth you provided. He strips down and climbs into the shower, turning the hot water on full blast.
Tom sticks his head under the spray of the water, letting the heat soothe his tense shoulders and finally chase away the chill for good. Bloody hell, why did he kiss you like that? He didn’t even ask, he just did it without thinking of the consequences. Yet, you kissed him back. You may have stopped him from touching you but you absolutely responded to his mouth. He can still picture it, still feel what it was like to have your body along his.
His cock gives a persistent twitch, reminding him that he’s still very much aroused.
Without a second thought, he wraps his hand around himself and starts to jerk off. With one hand pressed against the shower wall, he closes his eyes and thinks of you. Of your mouth, your taste, your body pressed to his…all of the little details come flooding back and he bites his lip, desperately wishing it was your hand touching him. He pictures you there with him, naked and dripping wet from the shower, your mouth glued to his as you get him off.
Would you tease him? Would you keep him on the edge, backing off with that smirk of yours as he rolls his hips into your palm?
Other images come to mind, hazy memories throughout the years that he kept locked away. You, in your bathing suit, laying out on the hot sand with your notebook, your lips wrapped around the pencil as you lost yourself in your thought. The way that bathing suit hugged your frame, he couldn’t help staring as he ran by with his surfboard.
Or when the both of you were on his couch, trying to find something to watch. You’d gotten annoyed at him for flipping through the channels and had tried to steal the remote. He had laughed, and held it out of reach, secretly loving the way your solid frame leaned across his to try and grab it.
It’s like he’s flipped a switch and his brain won’t flip it off. Every smile, every brush of your hand, every hug, every lingering look…
He comes with a strangled moan and your name on his tongue.
That tension dissipates and leaves his body shaking and boneless. Tom slumps forward, letting his forehead rest against the tiled wall. The shower washes his cum away and he watches it go down the drain. He’s confused and ashamed. Is he this lonely that he’s reaching out to the first person he feels some kind of attraction to? Or has he always been attracted to you and is now able to act on it? What if it’s the first? He can’t do that to you, especially knowing how you feel about him.
Tom’s aware that he shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s not fair for him to use you this way. Even though that was the best kiss he’s ever fucking had.
Swearing at himself, he turns off the shower and gets out. He dries himself with a towel, then leaves it on the floor as he falls naked into bed, face-first in his pillow. “Right mess you’ve made of this, mate,” he tells himself.
It’s late and he’s tired. He needs sleep. Hopefully, he’ll feel better in the morning.
Yanking up the comforter, Tom bundles himself with it, wishing it was one of your blankets. For the first time in months, he has a dreamless sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s in the same spot where he fell. Rubbing his eyes, he extracts himself from the warm cocoon of his comforter and reaches for his phone to check the time. Shite, he’s gonna be late.
Bolting out of bed, he throws on his uniform, brushes his teeth, and runs his hand through his hair in a vain attempt to control the curls. Having zero time to mess with it, he deems it good enough and hurries out the door.
Only to run smack dab into you. Instinctively, he reaches out to catch you, his hands coming to rest on your hips.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” you ask.
Seeing you here in the light of day reminds him that the night before wasn’t a dream. You’re really here and somehow in his arms again. Your hands are pressed to his chest and it makes him suck in a deep breath.
“Sorry, running late,” he says, though makes no move to let you go.
“Then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” He tells himself to let you go yet it’s so hard.
You break away first, clearing your throat as you put distance between you. “About last night…”
“I’m sorry, I can’t…I want to talk but I have to go.”
“Right, of course. You definitely just said you’re running late. Sorry. Don’t let me stand in the way.”
Tom shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you like he wants to. He turns and starts to walk away when he has a thought. He turns around to face you. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” he asks before losing his nerve.
Your eyes light up and you try to hold back your smile but he can still see it. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“Great.” Tom smiles, walking backward. “Around five?”
“I’ll bring the dessert.”
He’s about a second away from telling you that you are the dessert, yet he’s already made things awkward he’s not going to screw up again. Instead, he gives you a wave and turns back around.
It’s like a weight lifts from his chest and he can’t help smiling to himself.
Aside from being a few minutes late, the rest of his day is fairly uneventful. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted. His mind can’t help but wander, thoughts consumed by you and you alone. He swears he can feel your lips still touching his and he catches himself standing there, unmoving, his mind racing with those run-away thoughts. He ends up calling it a day nearly thirty minutes early because he’s far too out of it to be any useful.
When he gets back to his trailer, he looks around and realizes it’s a disaster. It’s been some time since anyone has been over. He’s suddenly glad he left early because it gives him time to straighten up. Hurrying around, he gathers the scattered laundry, shoving it into the hamper.
Any trash goes in the bin and dishes in the sink. While he boils water for the spaghetti, he washes as many of them as he can, cursing himself for inviting you over when the place is an absolute mess.
A moment later, he realizes that he’s still wearing his uniform and his hair is all over the place. No, that’s not going to do. He wants this to be a date, is already thinking of it as one, and he’s not going to have his first date with you looking like this. He runs to the bedroom, opening the closet and swearing when nothing is hanging. Bloody fucking hell.
There’s a knock on the trailer door and he runs back, only to find the pot of water is boiling over. “Shit, shit, shit!”
The door opens and you poke your head in. “Everything alright in here?”
“Yeah, just making a right mess of everything.” He tries to take the pot off the stove and burns himself in the process. “Ow! Fuck!”
“Oi, move.” You sweep past him, plucking the dishrag off the counter and using it to help you grab the pot’s handle. After moving it to another burner, you turn to face it. “How bad is it?”
Tom’s hand is red but otherwise alright. Still, he lets you gently take it, relishing the brief contact of your skin touching his. “I’m all over the place,” he says, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. Having you so close is making him dizzy.
“That’s alright. We’ll get you all sorted out.” You bend your head and lay a gentle kiss on the burn before releasing his hand. “There, all better.”
Tom smiles, taking in how close you’re standing and thinking how much he wants to close that remaining distance. His eyes stray to your lips but then you’re turning away towards the stove.
“Why don’t I get this going while you change your shirt? You got water down your front.”
Tom looks down and sure enough, there’s a large wet stain from when he rushed to wash dishes. Mentally, he calls himself every name he can think of as he heads to the bedroom. “Right, be back in a second.”
He kicks the door closed and then yanks off his shirt, digging through his drawers for something, anything that’s wearable. Thankfully there is one white T-shirt left. Not the best for eating spaghetti but it’ll have to do. In the bathroom, he attempts to push his hair back and does a quick check to make sure he’s somewhat presentable.
When he steps back into the kitchen, you have the noodles boiling in one pot and are pouring tomato sauce in another to heat it.
Tom leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you cook in his kitchen like you’ve done countless times before. This time it’s different. You’re both different.
You glance up and catch him staring. “What are you smiling about?”
“I’ve missed you.” Tom doesn’t think it’s too forward to say. After all, it’s the truth.
“I’ve missed you too.”
You teased him about it last night but it makes his smile wider when he hears you say it. He wanders over, noticing for the first time that you brought a dish covered with foil. “What’s that?” he asks.
“Blueberry pie. Had a scene that was giving me trouble so decided to make some dough to clear my head.”
“Ah, so you were procrastinating and used tonight as an excuse not to write.”
Hiding a smirk you glance over at him. “You don’t know me.”
He chuckles. “I know you very well, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you know about me?”
“You’re smart, good for a laugh,” he lists, eyes taking you in. You’re dressed in jeans and a warm jumper, though you’ve already kicked your shoes off into a corner somewhere with your socks. “You like to make yourself comfortable whenever possible. When you concentrate you get that funny little crease between your eyebrows.” He reaches out to poke the wrinkle on your forehead. “What’s got you so lost in thought, hm?”
“You were always far too perceptive for your own good.”
“Except when it counted.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud yet once he does, he can’t take it back. Damn it, can he not go for a whole day without his brain betraying him, bringing up Ruth?
You stop stirring, turning your head to look at him. “You cannot possibly be blaming yourself for what happened.”
Tom busies himself to avoid your gaze and your question. He grabs several of the dishes he just washed and brings them over to the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to say that. I can’t seem to say the right thing around you lately, can I?”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”
Tom opens his mouth to play it off, to tell you he’s fine. However, when he looks up and meets your eye, his resolve wavers, and that protective shell he’s been trying to build for months crumbles.
“She never told me what happened, why she did what she did,” he says, leaning on one of the kitchen chairs. “Guess I can’t help wondering if there was something I could have done differently.”
You step away from the stove and come up to him. “Look, I don’t have the whole story, only what Shirley could get out while giving me my keys. But from what I heard, it doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”
“We’ll never know, now will we?”
“Probably not,” you agree. “And that sucks. It really does. But it will get better, Tom. I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it, but it will.” So many people have told him that. Yet, he believes it coming from you. Always able to read him so well, you drop the conversation and return to the stove. “Spaghetti should be done soon.”
Tom finishes setting the table and gets you both a beer while you serve dinner. The quiet domesticity of it is not lost on him. He relishes it and enjoys every moment. When he sits down across from you, he can’t help smiling. He lifts his beer. Chuckling, you pick up your bottle as well.
“What are we toasting?” you ask.
“To old friends,” Tom says. “And new beginnings.”
“Is this a new beginning?”
“I’d like it to be.”
You study him for a moment and then tap your bottle to his. “A new beginning then.”
It’s the most enjoyable meal he’s had in a long time. You two spend the time catching up, swapping stories, and updates. You tell him everything you’ve been up to since you left, from the new books you wrote to the places you’ve seen. Tom smiles and laughs so much that his face hurts. He forgot that he likes this, likes being in your presence.
The trailer feels warmer and brighter with you here.
The next thing he knows, it’s hours later and you two are still at the table, spaghetti long since cleared and a half-eaten blueberry pie sitting between you, as well as empty mugs that once held tea.
Tom doesn’t even know what time it is, doesn’t care since tomorrow is his day off. Though, even if he did have to work, he still wouldn’t have cared. It's the first time in a long while that he’s allowed himself to let go. To feel and stay in the moment. And how fitting that it’s with you.
Then again, you’ve always had that effect on him.
“It’s late,” you say after glancing at your phone. “Damn, I didn’t realize how much I’ve been talking.”
“You also ate a fair bit,” he teases.
You flip him the bird. “Very funny.” Tom laughs and it makes your smile wider. “I’ve missed that sound.”
Just like that, the mood shifts. Tom’s hands become clammy and he fiddles with his mug. “About last night,” he says. He’s been avoiding the topic, not wanting to spoil the mood. However, it’s something that needs to be discussed. “I’m sorry.”
It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. The way you purse your lips leads him to believe he’s struck a nerve. “It’s fine,” you say with a wave of your hand, eyes downcast. “I know you didn’t mean it.” You’re hurt yet playing it off.
Tom hurries to explain himself. “I never said that.”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his. “What?”
“I never said I didn’t mean it. I’m not sorry that I kissed you. I’m sorry for not asking you first.”
He sees your lips part as you inhale and the urge to reach across the table is strong. “Well, I did mean what I said,” you tell him. “I’m not willing to be a distraction or a stand-in for someone else.”
“You never have been and never will be.”
Tom’s thoughts are a jumble. It feels like they’re stumbling over each other, making it difficult for him to decide what he wants to say next. Tentatively, he reaches across the table and holds out his hand. You stare at it for a moment, before laying your palm on his. His long fingers curl around yours.
When he says your name, it’s loaded with emotion. “I had a lot of time to think about that kiss,” he says. “Well, kisses, technically. And do you want to know what happened when I did?”
You nod.
“I lost myself in the memory. When I left your place last night, I couldn’t think of anything else. Kissing you felt like coming home after a long journey.”
“Tom…”
“Wait, wait, just…just let me finish,” he pleads. When you don’t say anything, he keeps going. “I didn’t notice until you left how much you were a part of my life. I loved the time we spent together. Looking back now, I can see it’s because everything is so easy around you. This friendship and these feelings, they’re not messy and complicated. They’re clear and powerful, and nothing I’ve ever experienced with anyone else. No one. Just you.”
Your bottom lip disappears under your top teeth and it conjures all sorts of images in Tom’s mind.
“Maybe it comes too late,” he continues. “But, if what you said last night is true, if your feelings haven’t changed, could we, maybe, give this a go? See where it takes us?”
“Is that what you really want?” Your voice is hopeful, though your expression is oddly schooled like you are afraid to believe what he’s saying, afraid to wear your emotions on your sleeve as you’ve done in the past.
Tom nods. “Yeah, I do.”
You abruptly stand, pushing your chair back so it scrapes against the floor. Tom sits back as well but before he can stand, you’re taking his face in your hands and kissing the life out of him.
With a moan, Tom yanks you onto his lap. You straddle him and his arms slide around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Bloody fucking hell his memories from last night don’t do it justice. Especially when you’re the one taking the lead, the one slipping your tongue past his lips and moaning as his hands slide down to grab your arse.
He hardens instantly and there’s no hiding it, not when your core is right there, grinding down on his bulge. He wishes neither of you was wearing jeans yet is too focused on your mouth to do anything about it. At least at first.
You draw back to catch your breath, but Tom doesn’t let you get far. He cups the back of your neck, holding you close as he gives an experimental thrust upward. You gasp and he swallows the sound, mouth hungrily searching yours.
“Tom, wait.” You’re breathless when you lean back to look him in the eye. “Are you sure?”
Tom nods without hesitation. “Yes, yes, I’m sure.”
You smile and he briefly loses control, yanking you into a harsh kiss in his excitement. Everything feels good, so bloody good, but also right. This, being here with you, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. He’s aware there’s still a lot to talk about. Yet, he’s not worried. He knows you two will get there. He’s not going to concern himself about it right now. He’s going to stay in the moment and focus all his attention on making you feel as good as he possibly can.
Evidently, you have your own plan in mind because you reach between you to undo the button of his jeans. Your kiss is broken when you slide onto the floor between his knees.
Tom swallows thickly, lifting his hips to help you drag down his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, the tip red and already beaded with precum. Your tongue darts out to lick it away and he sucks in a breath at the visual. When your lips wrap around his swollen head, he lets out a smattering of curses. Automatically, his hand reaches for your head, as if to direct you but he stops himself at the last minute and lets it drop to his side.
You catch the movement out of the corner of your eye. Pulling off with a lewd pop, you grin up at him. “It’s alright, babe. You can put your hand on my head.”
Tom doesn’t need to be told twice, especially when you take him into your mouth like that and slowly inch your way down his pulsing shaft. His hands immediately come to rest on your head and he pushes you down while he gives a small thrust up.
He feels your throat constrict around his tip and it rips a moan out of him. You glide back up, coating him in your saliva before taking him in again, this time with his help. It only takes one or two more times for you to manage to take him all, and when you do, he holds you there for a second, savoring the way you swallow around him.
After that, you’re back in control, bobbing your head up and down on his lap, taking him as far as you can every single time.
Tom drags his eyes open, head thrown back from the Incredible pleasure. When he looks down at you, you’re already staring up at him and the visual knocks the breath from his lungs.
You pull off with a gasp, your hand wrapping around his cock and stroking him while you catch your breath. Your thumb swipes at the string of spit and precum connecting your wet bottom lip to the head of his cock before your tongue darts out to clean it away.
“Fuck!” Tom swears. “I’m not going to last long if you look up at me like that.”
Smirking, you continue to stroke him with your hand while your mouth starts to suck at his quivering thighs. He knows he’ll have marks in the morning and that only makes him groan louder.
“I’m sure I can draw this out for you,” you pant, letting your lips run up and down along his shaft before your tongue takes a bold lick. “If you want me to.”
Tom is torn. Part of him wants to grab your head again and thrust himself down your throat until you gag. The other part wants to tear your clothes off, to get you naked so he can touch and taste…
You don’t give him a chance to decide. As if reading his mind, you take him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough for him to see stars. His hips are constantly jerking now. His hands grip your head and he lets go, lets you take the reins because right now he’d probably die if you stopped.
Tom feels himself getting close, feels the way his balls draw up and the pleasure reaches its crescendo.
He comes in your mouth, lost in the way he coats your tongue and makes your movements slicker, stickier. You keep going, keeping sucking him down until he relaxes in the chair, panting like he’s just run a marathon. When you pull off, he opens his eyes in time to watch you swallow.
Head pillowed on his lap, face inches from his softening cock you smirk. “You doing alright there, love?”
He doesn’t answer, has no words at the moment. All he does is grin and reach for your arms, pulling you up as he stands. His legs are wobbly and you both stumble, bursting into a fit of giggles even as he kisses you. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself, he just wants to feel your mouth on his.
Stepping out of his jeans, tripping a little over his shoes, he pulls you towards the bedroom. You follow, your lips never leaving his until he bumps into the door.
“Careful!” you laugh. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’d have a fun time trying to explain that injury.”
You grab the hem of his shirt and help him pull it off. Now he’s completely naked while you’re fully dressed. That won’t do. He needs to see your body, to touch and taste as much of it as he can. He reaches for your jeans and you stop him.
For a brief moment, doubt creeps in and he has the mental image of someone else stopping him, someone else excusing herself right when they get started.
That goes away when you force him to sit on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before stepping back. You’re not leaving, you’re teasing, and that grabs his attention away from the painful memory. You grab the hem of your jumper and pull it off, showing him the lacy black bra underneath.
Tom nearly swallows his tongue. When you wiggle your jeans down your hips, he catches sight of matching knickers and realizes, you’ve thought of this. Even though you weren’t sure of his feelings or intentions, you still wore something sexy for him. Just in case.
He can’t keep his hands to himself. Pulling you forward, he drags you onto his lap again, mouth hungrily devouring yours. The need to touch and explore overrides everything else and Tom carefully turns the both of you until you’re lying on the bed, underneath him.
When he draws back, the loving look you give him is like a punch to the gut. No one’s ever looked at him the way you are now. You reach up to run your hands through his curls and he snags your wrist, placing feather-light kisses there, then along your arm, in the crook of your elbow, up to your shoulder, and then ultimately to your neck where he wraps his lips around a spot and sucks greedily.
Your gasp turns into a moan as his hand cups your breast. The black lace is scratchy against his palm so he tugs it down, needs to feel skin-on-skin while he feasts on your throat. Your back arches, bringing your breast right into his eager hand. He thumbs your nipple, tweaking and teasing it until it becomes stiff.
Tom leaves your neck, bending his head to take the now hard nub between his lips. He flicks his tongue over it once, twice, then swirls in slow circles. You moan, hands burying themselves in his hair, now unruly from your fingers. He tugs down the other bra cup, switching his mouth to that nipple while his hand continues to squeeze and knead the other.
When he draws back to look at you, your pupils are dilated and it takes him right back to those feelings that surfaced yesterday in your kitchen. Except for this time, he knows what they are and can’t wait to explore them.
You sit up just enough to unhook your bra and toss it aside. Tom lays gentle kisses from one breast to the other, giving them a final appreciative squeeze as he starts to descend your body. Tongue and lips leave a visible trail of kisses while his hands, so eager, run down to grip your thighs. He wants you to know where he’s headed, what he wants to do to you, to give you the chance to stop him.
You don’t. You urge him on. “Tom, please, touch me,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip as his tongue briefly teases your belly button.
“Can I taste you instead?”
You suck in a breath and he looks up at you, waiting for the nod of approval before hooking his fingers under your knickers. He draws back, pulling them down and eventually off, finally leaving you completely naked beneath him.
His imagination failed him. You’re gorgeous and nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart races when he finally sees all of you.
His hands slip under your knees so he can spread your legs open. You’re so wet and glistening for him and he hasn’t even properly touched you yet. The realization that he’s the one to do this to you, the one to make you aroused from only kissing and groping, does something to him.
All that self-doubt, all that worry, and concern about himself disappears. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.
He slides down the bed, lifting your legs over his shoulders in the process. At the first swipe of his tongue, your body jerks in surprise, only to relax into the mattress. Your taste lacks comparison. The heady, unique flavor quickly becomes his favorite the more he laps at you. With his thumb, he gently rubs a circle around your nub, emboldened by the way you moan his name.
He loves the way it sounds coming from you. His name has never been sweeter.
Tom wraps his lips around that sensitive spot and sucks, having to take hold of your thighs to keep your hips from jerking off the bed. Your fingers pull on his curls when they tighten their grip and it lets him know he’s doing good, giving you what you like.
He loses himself, his lips and tongue in a constant state of movement, swiping, teasing, flicking, stroking, over and over again until sweat breaks out across your body. Your thighs trap his head but he’s too busy to notice.
When he slips his tongue inside you, he can feel your body clench and it makes his cock start to swell. Imagining what that will be like, he moans himself and notices that you gasp when he does. So, he does is a second and third, until he's humming and tasting, wringing an orgasm out of your shuddering, constantly moving body. Eventually, his mouth returns to your nub. He slides two fingers into you, moaning when your walls cling to them. Rubbing and crooking them just the right way causes swears to tumble from your lips.
Your voice calls out to him in warning but he doesn’t let up. It only urges him on, makes him suck, and rub hard until your body is convulsing underneath him. Seconds later, you go limp, your chest heaving.
Tom’s panting when he pushes your legs off his sweaty shoulders, sitting back on his heels to look down at you. You look more beautiful than ever. The post-orgasmic smile that graces your features makes his heart threaten to burst from his chest.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hands, he crawls up over you. You reach up to pull him down, touching your two naked bodies together for the first time.
Tom moans, stealing another kiss. Your hands run up and down his back, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your body shudders and he briefly notices the coolness of the room. Blindly, he feels around for the comforter and draws it up to cover you both. The action breaks the kiss and allows you to speak.
“Make love to me, Tom,” you beg, your forehead pressed to his.
He shifts and presses his cock to your core, lightly grinding so his length drags through your wetness. He’s now slick with you and the thought is too much to handle. Part of him wants to take things slow and savor, yet another part, a part he’s silenced for a long time, wants him to go for it, to take you and make you his.
Tom cups your cheek and draws his head back so you’re eye to eye when he pushes into you for the first time. He gets to see the way your eyes widen before fluttering closed and hears your sudden inhale of breath as you throw your head back into his pillow. And when he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, he says your name, whispers it like a prayer.
Despite his hormones urging for more, he takes you slowly. He’s not in any rush. Why would he be? Everything he wants is right in his arms. The world outside his trailer no longer exists.
You are his world.
Your legs wrap around his waist and you pull him in each time he draws out, making sure he buries himself with every thrust. Your mouths cannot break away from each other. Over time, the energy in the room shifts. Gentle, lazy kisses start to turn, become eager, biting, hungry.
Tom starts to move quicker, deepening his thrusts until he’s grinding into your pulsing heat. Good god, he can feel you clench so much better than he could with his tongue or fingers. It’s like you’re squeezing the life from him and he doesn’t care in the slightest. He wishes for it, wants your body to clench his cock so tight it leaves an imprint of himself inside you. He’s well aware that’s not how that works but it doesn’t stop him from wanting it. Your heels dig into his backside, spurring him on.
Tom’s mouth seeks your throat, kissing and sucking as the mattress groans along with you. He wishes this could last forever, that he could stay inside you until the end of time. His body is shaking from exhaustion, aching, and trembling after being disused for so long. But he can’t stop, won’t stop until he makes sure you cum. He did it once, he can do it again. Needs to do it. Needs to feel it around his aching cock.
Needs one more reminder that he’s the reason you’re coming undone.
His hand pushes down under the blanket, gliding along the swell of your hip, then slipping between your grinding bodies. His thumb finds your oversensitive nub and you cry out at the first swipe.
“Tom! Tom, I’m close, so close. Please, more. Give me more!”
His thrusts aren’t gentle anymore, haven’t been ever since he started climbing his own peak. A few more sloppy rubs and you’re cresting that hill for a second time, your tight cunt clamping down on him and sending him toppling over the edge as he comes inside you.
Even then, he keeps going, his mouth seeking yours as he fucks himself through his release. This is nirvana, this is his happy place. He knows he’s done for. All those crystal clear feelings couldn’t be more front and center than they are now. He loves you. Most likely, part of him has always loved you yet he was blind to it. Until now.
He makes a silent vow that he won’t be blind to you ever again.
You both collapse in a sweaty, panting heap.
Your hand hasn’t stopped stroking his back and as he comes back to himself, he finds your other hand running through his curls. His cheek is pressed just above your breast, hot breath ghosting across your skin.
“That was…” When you trail off, he pushes his head up to look at you. “Tom, that was…” His smile falters as that sliver of fear comes back for just a second. “Fuck, I’ve never been made love to like that before.”
And just like that, the fear goes away. “Yeah?” Tom asks, a smile spreading across his face.
You nod, cupping his face so you can drag him into a kiss. “Yes. You blew my fucking mind.”
Tom deepens the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek. He feels himself slip out of you and his heart slams against his ribcage when you whimper at the loss. He rolls onto his side, bringing you with him so you’re face to face, limbs tangled together.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Bloody hell, the way you make me feel.”
You kiss him once, twice, then a third before finally laying your head on the pillow. “Now you know how I’ve been feeling all this time.”
If this is what you’ve been feeling, he could kick himself for waiting as long as he had.
“What happens now?” he asks, afraid of the answer yet needing it all the same.
You trail your fingers up and down his arm, making him shudder. “Now, we sleep. And tomorrow, we’ll wake up, have breakfast, have sex again, then I’ll get some writing done and you lay here naked, distracting me from said writing.”
Tom grins, biting his lip in excitement. “I think I can do that,” he says, pulling you close. “What about after tomorrow?”
“Whatever we want, Tom. The world is ours for the taking.”
“Think I might like to travel some.”
“Well, if I finish this book, there’ll be a tour. I’d love for you to join me.”
“What’s the book about?”
“A woman goes on holiday and meets a handsome handyman who is as beautiful inside as he is out. He’s kind, funny, smart, carrying…everything she could ever want and she falls in love fast. He doesn’t right away but, eventually, he comes around.”
Tom’s heart flutters and his nose brushes yours as he nuzzles your face. “How does it end?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe you can help me figure it out.”
“I think the man falls in love with the woman. Or at the very least, he realizes part of him always loved her. Then I think he asks her to show him the world. Maybe they marry and have a couple of kids. Though that might be too cheesy.”
“I think it’s perfect. He’s allowed his happily ever after just as she is.”
Tom smiles at you and leans in for another kiss. “As long as they’re together, he couldn’t be happier.”
#tom grant#tom make up#joseph quinn#joe quinn#joe quinn make up#joseph quinn make up#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant x female reader
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cassie my love, i need more of this in my life. getting high post-sex w older!tom just seems soooooo <3
So…. it took me an embarrassing amount of months to get back to you on this but um…. here you go… this took a turn??? and then a swift turn back in the other direction???? so um…. horny whiplash warning??? ig????
Tagging @ali-r3n bc she asked me to and also @ghosttownwherenoonegoes because Eri helped me out with a lot of the british specifics (the britifics??) so thank youuuu
Okay, okay, without further ado:
Your First Introduction to Older!Tom’s Post-Sex Ritual
(except I can’t stick to a prompt)
Word Count: 2.1 k
Warnings: Nudity, allusions to sex and also some *ehm* inappropriate touching, reader has boobies and a bajina.
18+ only!! MDNI!! Minors do not read this!!! This is not for you!!!! This is for adults only!!!
“Fuuuuuck,” Tom exhales as he lays on his back, staring up at your bedroom ceiling.
“Fuck,” you agree weakly, still slowly drifting down from cloud nine. Tom chuckles at your response as he sits up and eases out of bed. You smile at the sweet sound of his laughter, though you don’t immediately register the movement; still just a bit too far gone.
When Tom struts past your line of sight, still naked as the day he was born, on his way out of the room, that movement manages to catch your attention finally. You frown, at first, because you were already missing him, and then because you were disappointed in yourself for already missing him. Casual, this is just casual, keep it casual, you remind yourself. Tom doesn’t do the whole dating thing, you know that, so keep things platonic and casual. Don’t scare him off.
Suddenly, you’re pulled out of your internal self-lecture by the sound of a distant, but not distant enough, crash and Tom exclaiming, “shit!”
You sit up as quickly as you’re able to, your whole body still feeling pretty limp and boneless after Tom spent the better half of the evening pulling as many orgasms from you as he could. Once you’re upright, you call out, “Tom? Are you alright?”
“Yeah! Yeah. Shit! Er, yeah, just, erm- hang on,” Tom calls back. You hear more shuffling and clattering from the other room, and then you hear the undeniable creak in the floorboards from Tom’s heavy-footed steps as he approaches the bedroom. Soon enough, he appears in the doorway, still shamelessly nude but now with a joint in hand and a sheepish expression on his face.
“Have you got a lighter or, er, matches or anything like that? I tried looking ‘round for either of ‘em, but erm… Yeah, I couldn’t find anything,” he asks, his cheeks blushing as he carries on.
“Is that what all that crashing was?” You ask amusedly, failing to stifle the grin that curls on your lips.
“Yeah… I erm, I might’ve knocked some of yer shit over,” Tom admits sheepishly.
“Tommy,” you say, your tone a perfect mix of amused, exasperated, disappointed, and scolding.
“But, but!! But I put it all back, and none of it’s broken. Swear on me granda’s grave,” he promises.
You can’t help but roll your eyes fondly at that before chastising him a bit, good-naturedly, of course, “Don’t swear on that poor man’s grave. Knowing you, you probably already put him through enough when he was alive.”
Tom chuckles, “Fair enough,” he concedes before raising up the joint to draw your attention back to it, and then simply asking, “Lighters? Matches?”
“Er, right. Lighters. Kitchen, the counter to the left of the fridge, top drawer, it’s my catch-all drawer, there should be a few lighters in there, take your pick,” you inform him.
Tom grins at your response as he makes his way over to the bed. His grin widens tenfold and becomes much more smug when he notices your gaze flit down toward his cock, which gracelessly flops around with his strides, still limp and spent from your previous activities. When he reaches your side of the bed, he places his hand down on the mattress near your thigh, using it to support his weight as he leans over and plants a kiss on the crown of your head. He holds his lips there for a few moments, softly inhaling the residual scent of your shampoo as he does so, deciding to allow you both to enjoy this moment of peace without even being truly aware that that’s what he’s doing.
When Tom finally breaks away, he leans down to whisper into your ear, “Don’t get any ideas, love,” he warns cheekily, “You and that heavenly little place between your thighs milked my cock dry; don’t think I’ll be able to get it up again anytime soon,” he finishes teasingly before kissing you again, this time pressing his lips against your cheek to punctuate his teasing.
You scoff and stifle a smile as you push him away. Cocky little bastard, you think.
Tom holds his hands up in surrender as he backs away from the bed, joint still clutched between his index and middle finger and a smug grin still on his face.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, baby. It’s yer fault for bein’ greedy,” he teases as he walks off into the other room, still refusing to put on clothes.
God, how are you supposed to keep your feelings in check when he treats you like that? He’s just one of your mates, and yet he treats you better than many of the dickheads you’ve dated in the past ever had, better than some of your mates’ current partners treat them, even.
As if he can sense that you’ve begun to spiral from the other room, Tom calls out to you, effectively pulling you out of your fretting, “Ay, me lover, think I’m gonna light up and make meesen a bacon butty. You want anything while I’m out ‘ere? Water? Bacon butty? Some wine? This Crunchie you’ve got hidden in your cupboard? Actually, wait, nevermind, I call dibs on the Crunchie.”
“Maybe some wa- Hey, wait, Tom, no! Leave that Crunchie alone! I’ve been saving that!”
Of course, you frantically try to get up to rescue your precious candy bar from Tom’s thieving grasp. However, your legs are still a little unsteady, which forces you to walk to the kitchen looking like a newborn giraffe, all while Tom’s grating (read: annoyingly sexy) chuckle fills the space of your flat.
You find him cock out, lit joint pursed between his lips, standing in front of your stove, hands on his hips, heating up a frying pan for his bacon, and, annoyingly, nowhere near your candy stash.
“I haven’t got any bacon, so, it’ll just be a butty, I’m afraid. No use heating up a pan for that,” you grumble as you walk over to the cupboard where you stash your candy. Might as well snag that Crunchie before he can.
At the sound of your voice, Tom turns around and looks at you, bemused, albeit amused as well, and says, “the fuck are you doing out ‘ere on those wobbly li’l legs, Bambi?”
His words come out a bit muffled, thanks to the joint perched between his lips.
“Thought you were gonna steal my Crunchie,” you shrug and admit sheepishly through a mouthful of chocolate and honeycomb. At that, Tom barks out a laugh, which quickly morphs into a cough from accidentally inhaling during said laugh. He promptly removes the joint from between his lips, ashes it in the makeshift ashtray he’s made out of foil, clears his throat, and goes back to smoking.
“Jesus, you’re a strange one, aren’t you,” he remarks fondly, his voice slightly hoarse from coughing, as he begins to gather the ingredients for his sandwich.
“I’m very serious about my Crunchies,” you reply, half-jokingly.
Tom chuckles as he rifles through your fridge.
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that now,” he replies, pausing to inhale before continuing to speak on his exhale, “Sit down at the table then, yeah? I’ll get you some water and make us some toasties if that sounds alright?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, okay,” you agree awkwardly as you sit down nearby at your kitchen table, watching him as he works on preparing the food.
Soon enough, he comes over to you with a glass of water and that same cheeky smile.
God, that smile will get you in so much trouble someday, won’t it?
“What’s that grin for?” You ask as he sets down the water, though you can’t help but reciprocate it with a smile of your own.
He shrugs before leaning over to press his lips against yours, moaning into the kiss when you needily take the initiative to deepen it, parting your lips eagerly for him. Far too soon for your liking, though, he’s breaking the kiss, pulling away just slightly to look into your eyes with his lovely brown ones.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have really, really great tits?” Tom asks, his voice low, sultry, and serious, but you can see the mischief swimming in his gaze.
You roll your eyes and scoff at his question, leaning back in your seat, though anyone could see the amused smile you fail to keep from tugging at the corners of your mouth.
“Yeah, you have like a million times since we started hooking up,” you reply with a chuckle.
“What can I say? I’m a man of honesty,” Tom teases, making you huff out a laugh; he smiles at the sound of it before holding up the joint in your line of sight and asking, “Do you want to take a few tokes ‘a this while I finish up our sandwiches?”
You nod and purse your lips, and, as if it were already second nature to him, Tom slots the joint between your lips.
Instead of immediately going off to work on the food, he sticks around to watch you take your first few puffs, still leaning down so he’s just about at eye level with you, his hands boxing you in on either side, one palm pressed onto the tabletop and the other holding onto the back of your chair. Meanwhile, you sit diagonally in your seat, facing him and maintaining eye contact as you smoke. The haze of your high slowly but surely begins to set in, lowering your eyelids to a relaxed level and easing your posture. Between your new relaxed state, the sex hair you’re sporting, the fact that you smell like you’ve just got done having sex, the fact that you’re completely naked right now, and the fact that you’re, well, you, Tom thinks you might be one of the prettiest things he’s ever fucking seen in his whole life.
But he mustn’t forget about the toasties!
So, he plants one last kiss on your cheek because, hey, he fucking feels like it. Then, he surprises you by kneeling in front of you to say goodbye to ‘his girls’ (your tits).
“I’ll see you ladies in a minute, yeah? Be good while I’m gone, try not to miss me too much,” he whispers to them, making you giggle.
“Tom, you’re so fucking wei-” That (affectionate) jab immediately dies on your tongue the moment he leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, engulfing it in the warm, wet heat of his mouth and applying just enough pressure to make a heated, buzzing sensation spread beneath your skin as he sucks on it. Then, just as you feel that pleasant sensation spread down through your core, Tom’s pulling away, but only so he can give your other, neglected nipple the same attention.
Small mewls and moans spill out from between your parted lips as the long forgotten joint, still clutched between your fingers, hovers over your table, where the ashes fall from it carelessly, sure to leave a mark. Once Tom’s had his fill, he places a final kiss to the center of your chest before pulling away completely and leaving to go finish preparing your sandwiches, waltzing back over to the stove as if he hadn’t just done, well, that.
“Tom… what the fuck was that?” You ask breathlessly. Still too bewildered to notice the damage the neglected joint is doing to the surface of your table.
Tom has to stifle a cheeky, mischievous grin as he feigns nonchalance, shrugs, and simply replies, “Just giving the ladies a proper goodbye, love. They get nervy when I leave ‘em just out of the blue. You know, separation anxiety, and all that?” Tom tuts, “Poor girls. Think maybe you should start keeping a couple pictures of me in your bra, one in each cup, so they can still see me when I’m not around.”
“Tommy, you’re ridiculous,” you laugh as he dishes up the toasties onto plates and turns off the stovetop.
“Ridiculous…ly fit? I know, baby, but why don’t you finish that glass of water and eat some of that sandwich before you go jumpin’ me bones again, yeah? Gotta stay fed and hydrated,” He teases you as he brings the plates over to the table.
“Oh, and, you’re ashing on yer table, love,” Tom informs you with a kiss on the head as he sets the plates down and goes to grab a wet rag to wipe the table off with, along with the makeshift ashtray.
“Shit!” you exclaim as you lift the joint away from the table. You hand it to him when he gets back, trading it off for the rag so you can wipe up the mess you’ve made whilst he gets everything else sorted.
Tom tuts and shakes his head, feigning disapproval, “that’s the devil’s lettuce, it’ll do that to you.”
“Shut up, Tommifer,” you reply, feigning annoyance all while sporting an amused smile. He chuckles at that, though he also appreciates the fact that you neglected to call him ‘Thomas,’ his full first name, when you very easily could’ve.
“Eat yer toastie, me birdie,” He says as he nudges you teasingly, “sooner you finish it, sooner I can get back between those thighs, yeah?”
#is this anything???#this does not mean i’m taking requests again!! just that i’m going back to answer old ones!!!#ask and i shall reply#RJ <3#older!tom grant#tom grant#tom grant smut#tom grant x reader#older!tom grant smut#older!tom grant x reader#older au#tom grant make up#make up (2019)#joseph quinn characters#joseph quinn x reader#tom grant x you#older!tom grant x you#joseph quinn x you#moots my beloved <3
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Lol not me actually requesting something from someone yikes. But you asked for more Tom requests - what about you and best friend!Tom go on a night out with all your work mates after a long week and everyone keeps treating you like a couple so you play it up and flirt heavily with him but he gets flustered? If you could find a way to take this in a smutty direction I’d love you forever ♥️
author's note: this got a little wordy, i'm sorry, but i couldn't help myself.
cw: 18+ (minors dni), drinking/smoking, flirting, established friendships, oral (f recieving), tom being extra boyfriend-ish
word count: 5.6k
“A drink.” Tom promised, “Only one—come out with us.”
You were always reluctant to venture anywhere outside of work with coworkers. Tom was the only exception, but even that was few and far between.
And Tom’s friends - by association, your coworkers - weren’t the easiest to be around. They were friendly to a degree, but they were men. They get too rowdy and loud and say horrible things about women, whether you were around or not.
“Just boys being boys.” Your neighbor had told you, a sweet old lady who kept to herself, catching the boys huddled outside of Tom’s caravan on a sticky, hot Friday night.
You never understood it and Tom seemed to always take the brunt of whatever jokes they were telling, but he laughed anyway. He never took himself too seriously, not since Ruth.
He doesn't talk about her much anymore, only in passing when he brings up old memories, but he’s happier now—lighter and more carefree in the way he carries himself.
He’s a homebody like you, but he’s taking that leap and going on a wild night out, but not without dragging you along with him.
“Only one?” You've got an inkling that isn’t the truth, and Tom sinks a little, shoulders slumping over his soft, gray cotton shirt. “It’s never only one, Tom.”
“You know I don’t like ‘em,” You argued, scrunching your nose in disgust—it makes Tom chuckle every time, “they always got something to say, they’re always being mean toward you.”
Tom shrugs carelessly, “It’s just fuckin’ around. It doesn’t bother me.”
Except when it does. Except when it’s almost always cheap shot jokes aimed at his relationship with Ruth and how disastrous it’s ending was—how stupidly oblivious Tom had been to Ruth’s other interests.
Tom loved her. He couldn’t help it.
And growing up with Tom, you understood it. He loved and he loved hard, he protected the ones he cared about, he was always there, even when people weren’t there for him.
Maybe that was his downfall. But he’s standing here, pride on the line, begging you to go out for drinks despite knowing how much you hate drinking.
You sigh, using your pointer finger to scratch at the middle of your brow, along the bridge of your nose.
“I will break a fuckin’ nose if one of them even so much as makes a comment in my direction,” You warn, “or yours.”
Tom snickers softly, pulling you into a tight, warm hug outside of the small work shack, smelling like the sweet cereal he had eaten that morning, both of you still barely awake enough to be ready for the day.
“They mean well,” Tom defends weakly, not believing much in himself either as he says it, but you both ignore it, “either way, ya’ promised.”
“Did I?” You ask playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as you shrugged him away, “I must be losin’ my memory because I don’t remember that.”
“Not really,” Tom quickly admits, howling out a laugh as you shove him, “hey—we’re mates, that’s gotta count for something.”
“And what about them?” You ask, wondering how you were that much different.
Tom couldn’t put it into words, not now.
Things had changed the moment Ruth fled, the moment you started slipping into his daily routine. There was always a cup of warm tea sitting on his workspace every morning with your name on it.
“Gotcha a cuppa.” He’d mumble around the rim of his own cup.
Meanwhile you’re shoving a freshly packaged duo of sandwiches at his chest, his smile growing wide. One was never enough and you almost always stole half of the second—Tom never cared, the gesture was more than anything anyone had ever done for him.
He mentioned Ruth’s horrid attempt at pasta once and you nearly balked at the admission, hiding your laugh behind your hand. He’s never had your cooking, but Tom swears nothing can be worse than that.
“S’different.” Tom replies, a piss poor answer.
“Why? Because I’ve got tits?”
Tom hesitates for a brief moment, mouth opened up and posed for a witty remark. It’s drowned out by your hand slapping his bicep and a weary laugh from him as he speaks.
“Fucking hell, you said it! Not me.”
“Is it true?” You ask despite his pain, his fingers squeezing at the sore spot on his arm.
Tom would never see it that way. He didn’t care one way or the other. But, you two melded together easily; quick banter, easy but sharp jokes that neither of you took seriously. Things were genuine, unforced, and you were the only person he actually made an effort to see outside of work—everything else was just coincidence or coercion on the part of Tom’s other friends.
“No, no,” Tom says forcefully, seeming offended that you would even ask, “what—you think I’m like them too?”
Another shrug that Tom can’t decipher, your hand reaching for the doorknob, “Just checking—see you tonight.”
Tom snorts out a soft hmph, “Go easy on ‘em, yeah?”
“Not a fuckin’ chance.”
You’ve managed your way through two rounds of shots, taking the first one in stride before sipping gingerly at the second and sneaking it Tom’s way, letting him down the rest.
He’s got a hand on the small of your back, a comforting gesture but possessive nonetheless. It’s more of a, stay near me and don’t stray for your own good, type gesture—rather than a, you’re mine. Regardless, you lean into the touch and shove the third round of shots his way.
“Nice to see Tommy finally bring you out with him,” Jason, a friend of Tom’s you’ve only spoken to a few times, pipes up a few spots down the bar slab, “least he doesn’t talk about Ruth anymore”.
“Hey,” Tom replies in warning, throwing the shot back, “fuck off, man.”
Another one of his friends speaks up, the one that’s always a bit too rowdy, less filtered, and terrible at social cues.
“He’s right, mate—she’s a looker, too.”
The counter creaks in the silence that falls over, Tom’s touch tightening in the fabric of your wool knit sweater, a silent plea that begs you to back down.
He glanced around briefly, all eyes staring back at him.
“What—What did I say?”
“Thanks.” You reply, cutting through the awkward silence.
Tom visibly relaxed, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sways a little, his hand reaching out to rest on the barstool to steady himself.
“Alright, mate?” Jason asks, “Thought you had a little more in you than that—“ his eyes flick up toward you, teeth glinting behind a smirk, “seems like you’ve got a night ahead of you.”
The realization dawns on you, the closeness you two held—and with the thick skulls and empty heads of most of those men, they had no idea where your relationship with Tom landed, just that you two were close now and that had to mean you two were shagging, or at least thinking about it.
Tom goes red in the face, ears blossoming pink. It was partly the alcohol, but his hand drifting away from you is a small inclination that he sees the line being crossed—and maybe you were feeling a little bold tonight, but you lean further into him.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” You quirk your head at Tom slightly, his eyes bulging a little, “right, Tommy?”
It makes him squirm, the nickname sounding foreign on your tongue. He liked the way you said his name. Tom. It was light, but strong—you only ever said it when you were really trying to prove a point or get his attention, but it drove him mad in the best way.
He doesn’t know when the feelings developed or how they’ve gotten so intense, but standing in front of you now, watching you openly agree with the notion that you two might be going home together, even if it’s just a ruse to fuck with his friends, has his insides twisting in knots.
Tom laughs nervously, agreeing without thinking.
“Told you,” You hear a whisper, a jab of an elbow in the side of one of his other friends, briefly glancing up at Tom, “about time you finally move on from that odd one—Ruth, yeah? Girl always gave me a vibe, ya know?”
The bitter memories still linger, always reappearing at the sound of her name and you can see it, watching as he visibly recoils in on himself.
There’s no telling how often this happens, how frequently they leave Tom at the end of the line, constantly directing their bad, poorly timed jokes at him.
You roll your eyes, remembering Tom’s plea to remain civil, instead directing your attention toward him, hoping that whatever bold course of action you decided to take would deter his friends away.
“Dunno what she was thinking, he’s a keeper,” You interrupt, shoving Tom gently with your shoulder, “sweet, a good fuckin’ laugh—“
“Least one of us is getting laid, yeah?”
A weird course of questions to take, but again—boys will be boys.
“It’s a wonder.” You joke coarsely, but Tom notices the hint of your deadpan delivery, biting on his bottom lip to stifle the laugh threatening to escape.
Tom looks flushed still, finger tracing the outline of his shot glass as a line of Guinessen hits the bar top—it’s his weakness, always getting him absolutely hammered. You’ve seen it once, cleaned it off his couch after a wild night out and him showing up at your doorstep in tears. The night was blurry now, but there were a lot of secrets spilled, learning more about Tom than you’d ever planned, and in turn, a few things about yourself.
It’s part of the reason you don’t mind flirting with Tom. He’s always been there, a guy that was easily everything you could see yourself starting your life with.
After a while, you spill into a booth. It’s a large round table with just enough room for everyone, except you. Tom nearly offers his own seat up, but you’re moving before he can decide, squeezing yourself onto his lap.
He visibly stiffens, his hand scolding hot against your skin from where it’s resting in the curve of your hip.
You catch the long, offstandish looks from across the table—a couple guys you didn’t know at all, snickering at Tom’s discomfort (or nervousness, it seemed) and making it even worse on him.
He doesn’t blame you—you were trying to make things less awkward, ease the burden, but now he has no clue how to respond. Touch you more? Touch you less? Does he go bold and make a move or should he just excuse himself and say it’s been a long day and head home.
And if you weren’t annoyed before, you were surely annoyed now and feeling a bit too protective over Tom as you look over, his face in perfect eyeline with your own.
“Too much?” He mouths, his legs parting slightly as you straddle his thigh, the movement nudging you forward and against the table, ass sliding back an inch.
Neither of you speak on it, but you can feel it. He tenses even more, but it seems less nervous.
You shake your head, glancing up at the two obnoxious men briefly before returning to him, “Not enough.” You whisper, lips grazing against his temple at the action, leaning back to look at him for a moment.
He almost panics, but then you’re leaning in and all Tom can do is adapt. He brought this on himself, he remembers. He asked you out tonight, practically begged, and now he was reaping the consequences.
Not that this could be considered a punishment, far from it, actually.
“Just act like you enjoy it, for their sake.” You tell him softly, a word of warning before your lips are colliding with his own.
They’re soft, not at all a surprise. Your thumb rubs at the joint of his jaw, the beginnings of stubble growing there, a few days past his most recent shave and he makes a noise, something that gets caught in his throat but you feel it, the sound vibrating against the fingers pressed on the side of neck. He opens his mouth briefly (probably to interrupt) and you jump on the chance, sliding your tongue past his lips to graze against his own, and he sighs against you, open-mouthed and husky.
And just when you feel satisfied enough to pull away, Tom pulls you back in, eliciting a few wolf whistles from his friends.
“Seems like someone’s leaving early tonight.”
Tom pulls away with a deep chuckle, avoiding whatever expression was on your face when he looks away—luckily you’re good at masking the surprise of him going in for seconds, and it’s unspoken, but the energy thrumming between you both was high.
It was better excuse than any, eyebrows raising in question at Tom, silently praying and hoping he would put your misery to end and agree to leaving.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tom nods slowly, turning back to you sheepishly—there’s something behind his eyes, those wide, beautiful eyes; but he forces it back, turning back to his friends, “you assholes drink enough for me, yeah?”
“Not a problem, mate.”
The keys jingle around Tom’s finger as the heavy door closes behind you, gravel shifting under your feet.
“So,” Tom drags out, chewing at the inside of his cheek, “what was all that about?”
You turn back to him slightly, seeing him stuck in place, leaning against the brick wall now, still and unmoving.
“You like being shit on like that?” You ask, deadpan and serious.
“Oh, what are you on about?” Tom asks, a groan on the horizon as he tips his head back, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket—he’s been nursing it for a few weeks, only smoking when he’s feeling really stressed, but now it seemed as a means to avoid the conversation.
You were having none of it.
“It’s always like this,” You argue, yanking the small pack from his grip and tossing it in the trash, “don’t start with that—you only ever smoke around them, you only act a certain way around them—what is it, Tom? What are you trying to prove?”
“Nothin’—why do you care even?” Tom asks, hands splayed out in midair, still confused at your sudden outburst. “Know what, I’ll do you one better—the hell was that in there? Flirting with me, kissing me—“
“And you needed to have your hands on me all night?” You counter, a vicious response that has Tom recoiling in on himself, “What exactly are you telling those fuckers when I’m not around?”
“You think I talk to them like that?” Tom asks, offended by the accusation.
“Nice to see you finally bringing her out with you,” You mock in a low voice, lazily stepping toward Tom, arms folded over your chest in defense, a way to comfort yourself, “finally—really?”
“S’not my doing!” Tom snaps, forehead creasing in frustration as he pushes from the wall, meeting you halfway in your walk toward him, “They’re always talkin’ about how you look at me, touching me all the time—they just assumed.”
“Assumed what, Tom?” You ask carefully, voice soft but dangerous—a double-edged sword that worries Tom.
You’re lucky the parking lot is barren of people, everyone packed inside the bar. Tom sighs, a forceful breath through his nose.
“That why you ask me out tonight?” You question, “Tryin’ to paint me as yours, are you?”
“Fuck,” Tom groans in exasperation and the expletive shouldn’t invade your mind that easily, the audible frustration in his voice as he continues, “s’just—we’re close, ya know. They have questions, I never tell them anything. I’d never—I wouldn’t do that.”
You let out a short, bitter laugh. Tom seems to have sobered a little at that, despite the alcohol on his breath.
“What? Don’t take me for a good shag, no?” You tease, the words hitting Tom fast and hard and he’s interrupting just as quick.
“You lost your fuckin’ mind?” Tom asks, your silence a louder response than ever, “I meant I’d never disrespect you like that.”
You shake your head slightly, stubbornly. Tom can’t take it anymore, full to the brim with annoyance at how dense you’re being.
He can’t help how easily you drive him mad, to the point of rash decisions and thoughts and he’s hauling forward before he can think, gripping your forearm to pull you around the back wall of the bar, a dark alley hidden away from everything else and private, quiet.
“Fuck is your problem?” You ask, yanking your arm away.
“You.” Tom answers boldly, chest heaving heavily, struggling to take the deep breaths he knows he should.
“I was only trying to ease the teasing, Tom.” You reassure him, “They were laughing and I didn’t think—I kissed you to shut them up and I’m sorry but—“
“But?” Tom reiterates, eyebrows raising inquisitively.
“You didn’t need to kiss me back.”
“And I did.”
You nod slowly, taking a long, calming breath despite your heart hammering in your chest. It was anger and everything that came with it, but it was also fear, excitement, the type of things that cloud your thinking and lead you toward making bad choices.
Was this a bad choice?
Tom’s eerily quiet, eyes directed toward the ground and hand rubbing the tense muscle of his neck.
You sigh quietly, speaking first.
“Let’s go.” You tell him, eyes pleading when he looks up at you. “Please?”
Tom relents, but the drive back is anything but easy; because everything with Tom was easy and now—you couldn’t even look at him.
He pulls into his driveway before yours, forcing you to finally speak up.
“Tom, this isn’t mine.” You remind him, wondering if he was as hammered as his friends were teasing him about.
“No shit,” His voice cracks when he talks, “Come on.”
When you’re finally inside, no arguments to be had, Tom’s reaching into the fridge and pulling out a pair of beer bottles, cracking open the lids against his chipped countertop. He forces the beer into your hand, motion toward the small dining table.
“I’m not in the mood for drinking, Tom.” You reply, taking the seat he demands, eyes following your movements.
“You drive me mad.” Tom admits, his teeth seething around the word, taking a long sip that spills down his lips briefly, the bottle ringing as it hits the table, his fingers tracing the perspiration as the silence grows, your heart swelling in your chest.
Tom had a habit of leaving you speechless—usually it was crass jokes and ridiculous things you couldn’t find the nerve to respond to, but this was different.
“I promise ‘em weeks ago that I would go out,” Tom admits, “and it was stupid of me to think you wanted to hang out with them—I should’ve blown them off, grown a fuckin’ pair and invited you out.”
“Tom—“ You interrupt softly.
“It’s not that I’m scared,” Tom continues, “just don’t wanna ruin what we have—but there’s so much—I can’t help thinkin’ about you and not in the way makes you an absolute nuisance sometimes—“
“Oh, fuck you.” You retort, a giggle settling in your chest.
“I dunno if you even look at me that way,” Tom shrugs, feeling ridiculous, “but I can’t lie to you anymore.”
“Tom,” You start again, his name on your tongue making his cock twitch in his pants, “I make you fuckin’ lunch everyday, I suffer going out with your obnoxious friends, I let you hang all over me and you think I don’t look at you that way—“
“Should’ve done things like this,” Tom laughs to himself, self-deprecating and sipping at the lingering few ounces left in the bottle, “dunno why I forced you out tonight.”
“You didn’t force me,” You shrug, “—didn’t force me to kiss you either.”
Tom laughs slightly, his body shaking with the movement.
“Where do we go from here?” Tom asks, feeling lost in this area anymore, after Ruth.
“Tom,” You say, voice lingering and teasing as you glare at him, head cocked to the side, “you brought me back here, didn’t you?”
He nods, unsure of where you were going. It’s sweet, endearing in the idea that he’s completely lost.
You make the first move, resting the half empty bottle on the countertop behind him before you’re shifting over his lap, the contact of your bare thighs against his palms bringing him back to the surface, half empty beer bottle clanging to the floor behind you—
“Fuck, the mess—“ You glance back toward the noise but Tom’s quickly distracting you, a hand on the side of your face to guide you back to him.
“Yeah,” He nods, “fuck it.”
You nod silently in agreement, smiling as he leans forward to press his lips against yours. It’s hesitant, new, different from the kiss in the bar—that was performative, a means to an end.
This kiss was everything else. A first for you both—it was the first time Tom had kissed anyone outside of Ruth and for you, it was strange, kissing your best friend. But, it felt good. It felt right.
Tom sighs into your mouth, lips parting in a motion that allows his tongue to slip out, testing the waters as he grazes your top lip, his brow furrowing in concentration as your thighs tighten against his hips, rising on your knees as his hands traverse and explore lower, his fingers grazing the skin under your skirt, the loose fabric bunching around your hips, feeling futile and useless.
It’s not long before there’s less coordination and more of your bodies rubbing against each other in a desperate need for relief, kisses having melded into breathing wantonly into each other’s mouths and Tom is the first to speak, breaking the comfort silence that had fallen over.
“S’not fair,” He whines softly, his hands appearing at your neck, fingers disappear into the root of your hair as he angles your chin up, giving him perfect access to exactly where he wanted to be, his lips latching onto the skin and your pulse stuttering under the touch, “god, it’s not fair.”
You pull back curiously, fingertips grazing the red tips of his ears, a sated smile on his. “What are you on about?”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t rush into things again,” Tom admits, his voice low, like he’s telling a secret he shouldn’t, “I’ve only ever been with her, haven’t been with anyone since—don’t wanna disappoint you.”
“That’s too bad,” You pout slightly, feeling a buzz flow through you, and given that you don’t drink often, it seems like that may be the culprit, “really wanted to get off tonight, but—“
“No, no—fuck, s’just, I don’t have anything here.” Tom explains, “It’s not on my mind lately, plus it’s usually just me—“
“Oh?” You perk up, voice airy as lean into, lips grazing his own briefly. He huffs a short laugh into your mouth.
“Yeah, sorry—“
“Don’t be,” You swiftly assure him, “M’not judging. It’s kind of…sweet, actually.”
“That I’m jackin’ off every night?” Tom asks, pulling back with an ire of confusion on his face. “Love, I think you’ve had too much to drink—“
“That you’re not fucking a different girl every other night—not that there’s anything wrong with it. But, look at James,” Tom nods knowingly, “he up and skipped town because he knocked that one girl up, the last thing on my mind is kids or relationship, but I like you, Tom.”
“I’d hope so,” He chuckles, “since you’re already pressed up against my cock and all—can’t even tell you the last time I thought about another girl that wasn’t you.”
You settle slightly, cunt pressed tightly against the zipper of his jeans, the hard and heavy line of his cock pressing against you. Tom hisses at the contact.
“So, you’re touching yourself to me?”
“S’that bad?” He asks, hoping it won’t send you running in the other direction.
You shake your head, adding a small tilt of your hips to drive him deeper into insanity, his hands latching onto your hips in an instant.
“Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?”
“Right now?” Tom asks, answering before you can respond, “You. This—how I’m probably gonna wake up and it’s just some fucked up dream I’m havin, my mind teasing me.”
You laugh at his rambling, pulling him back into focus with a cant of your hips, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and pressing against bare skin, the soft outline of his toned chest. He’s proper fit, not defined, but he’s solid and sturdy and has enough strength to lift the heavy piles of supplies at work.
“I meant when you touch yourself, Tom.”
“Oh, uh—mostly your tits, I guess.” Tom admits, “You never button your tops when we work, can’t help it. And uh, your mouth.”
You nod in response, lending your lips to press against the side of his jaw, mouth a wet, sloppy trail along the skin.
“Yeah—yeah, like that, but—“ Tom sighs shakily, his fingers digging into the soft, suppleness of your ass, thumbs pressing against your hip bones and rubbing you slowly against his groin, “mostly on my cock, too.”
“Is that what you want?” You ask softly, “My mouth around your cock?”
Tom laughs nervously, “Yeah—I just—I got something else in mind.”
“Yeah?” You question, the tone in his voice making you curious, body straightening as you look at him.
“Yeah,” He confirms, “Table.”
It’s a one word response. Not a question or a statement. A demand. And normally you’d throw a hundred questions his way, but you can’t be bothered, quickly lifting yourself up a few inches to sit atop the table, sturdier than you expected.
“You trust me, yeah?” Tom asks, more reassuring himself than you, but he needed to hear it.
“With everything.” You answer without hesitation, watching as he sank to his knees, hands wrapping around your upper thighs to pull your ass flush with the edge of the table. “Why?”
“Just checking.” He shrugs, lopsided smirk painting his face.
That was the Tom you knew, the one you saw everyday. The one that cracked jokes and playfully shoved you out of his way when he was walking down the hall toward the arcade, the one who, despite his obnoxious tendencies, would kneel to tie your laces back up when they came undone.
Except now he was kneeling for different reasons, pupils blown wide as he yanked at your underwear, slipping them over the tattered shoes still stuck to your feet, knowing that all of this was spur of the moment and rushed. You were both running on pure adrenaline and booze, but there were worse ways to spend your night.
“You ever—“ Tom lingers around the words, not saying but implying.
You shrug, noncommittal.
“Only a few times. Never came, though.”
It always sucked. Tom gets the idea, smiling slightly as he leans, teeth latching into the flowy material of your skirt and dragging it up, his lips dragging along the soft skin of your stomach as his nose nudges the sweater up too.
You were braless underneath, unbeknownst to him. He could figure it out himself, but at the moment, he was much too eager to delve in and consume you.
He latches onto you with no warning, lips suckling at your clit for a brief moment, an intense sensation that has you keening off the table, fingers disappearing into his hair and holding on tight, his short cropped curls giving little to keep you grounded.
He moans still, trailing down to dip his tongue inside of you, a feeling that is indescribable to you now, lost in the feeling.
It’s ridiculous. No one - not a single fucking soul - should be this good, this easily tuned in to your body, but Tom knows. He knew everything and nothing in the same note and it drives you mad. He knew you—your deepest insecurities, your darkest secrets, the weird little quirks you had when you thought no one was watching. But he also knew you and everything that made you tick; the moans and whimpers fell like a flood, his tongue working tirelessly against your cunt, all soaking and wet as it drenched his mouth, his chin, the ludicrous sound enough to make anyone embarrassed. Your head falls back, hands moving away from his hair to grip the table for purchase and he’s tapping at your thighs for attention, a small movement of his finger.
And he’s staring—full on grinning behind what part of your cunt was covering his face, skirt having fallen slightly and bunched into his hand to keep it away.
He’s daring you to look at him, watch him bring you to the edge and let him watch as you fall apart.
You let him—but it’s a steep reminder of how easily you’d let him do anything; just a look and you were done for. His eyes said a lot, even in the moments when you were silent, staring each other down from across the room.
You clench around the tongue that’s buried inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit in a beautiful accident, forcing a surprised gasp from your chest as you lean forward, nearly sitting upright.
“Oh, right there,” You acknowledge, voice light and airy, “fuck, right there, Tom.”
He moved up a fraction, tongue flicking over your clit wildly, stopping briefly with a question posed on his lips, all shiny and wet with you.
“Your tits—can I see them?”
He feels silly, like he’s back in school and asking a girl for the first time and you laugh, which makes it even more nerve wracking.
“Thought you said it wasn’t because of the tits,” You tease, “that I’m just like all your other mates.”
“You know you’re not,” He tells you, “you’ve never—you’re so much more, you know that.”
You smile slightly, nose scrunching up at the action as you stare at him accusingly, “Alright then, go on.”
He looks surprised almost that you’re asking him, leaning forward an inch more until his hands can sift under your sweater, pulling the fabric over your head in one fluid movement.
He’s stricken, eyes wide and puppy dogged as he licks at his bottom lip, rising slightly as he nods toward your chest, “You were like that all night?”
You nod shyly, feeling bashful as his hands graze your sides, thumbs rubbing along the underside of your breasts. He’s drinking you in, distracted enough that he doesn’t feel your hand graze the front of his jeans until you have them half undone, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.
“How long you been like this?” You ask, hands grazing over the small wet patch in the material, fingers cupping the hard line of his cock, shoving his jeans down an inch further. “Since we got here, since we left that bar—“
Your words drift and lull, dragging out as he felt ashamed to admit it.
“Wasn’t that bad until you sat on my lap,” Tom admits, “and then you fuckin’ kissed me—“
“Yeah?” You reply, pulling him forward gently by the front of his shirt, pressing your lips against his in a messy exchange, tasting you on him. He moans brokenly, the shift pulling you closer and pressing your bare cunt against his dick, ruining the material further, “You mean like that?”
Tom nods desperately, wanting nothing more to fuck you against every square foot of his trailer.
“S’getting late, Tommy.” You say, a tad antagonizing as you pull away, staring at him sternly, “Should I leave?”
“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” He apologizes, leaning down swiftly to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, mouthing brief at the valley of your breasts in a way that has you giggling out loud before he’s sinking back down and burying his face into your cunt, relentless as his pace is furious from the jump.
His fingers join gradually, thick digit sinking into your pussy and clenching, the movements of his tongue deliberate of your clit as he finds that sweet spot, curling his finger inside you until you’re gasping out loud, both hands shifting to cradle his head.
He encourages it, a small noise of acknowledgement as he moans against you, silently begging you to take what you need, riding out the high of your orgasm against his tongue as you come.
“Hu–oh, fuck.” You sigh, his mouth overstimulating as he laps you up, “Tom–fuck, Tom, too much.”
Tom laughs, finally releasing you to nestle between your legs, smoothing your skirt down as he hooks you knees around his hips, “Come ‘ere,” Tom whispers, tipping your chin up until you lean forward, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Tom–Tom, hey,” You tell him softly, trying to garner his attention, hands reaching for his opened jeans, “let me–”
“Mmm, yeah–’s okay.” Tom assures you, looking sheepish as he glances down toward your fingers trailing against the thick band of his boxers, “I uh, already came.”
“Oh,” Your voice is small, a smile creeping on your face, “O–Okay.”
“Next time.” He assures you, nodding slightly as your grin grows wider.
“Next time?” You reiterate, tone playful and inquisitive.
“Uh, unless I’m reading this wrong,” Tom recoils, “I mean, you’re half naked on the table I fuckin’ eat on, s’not like I planned to kick you after either.”
“We’re really not mates anymore, are we?” You ask, watching as he cracks a laugh, shaking his head.
“Don’t think we ever were.”
And considering your current situation, you don’t think things could ever go back to how they used to be, but you didn’t want them to.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#tom grant x you#tom grant x y/n#tom grant x reader#tom grant smut#tom grant make up#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#tom grant#joseph quinn#my writing
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Cheers to the Weekend
Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader
Genre: smut
Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)
Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.
Word count: 3k
"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.
"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.
"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"
"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."
"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.
"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.
He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.
Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "
Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"
"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"
Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."
You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."
"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.
"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.
"Oh, yeah? What about me?"
"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.
You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"
He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."
"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."
"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.
"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.
"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"
"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.
"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"
With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"
"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."
"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.
Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."
You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.
"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"
You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."
He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."
"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.
"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.
You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"
He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.
You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"
"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."
You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."
"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.
“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.
He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.
“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.
He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate.
“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.”
His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.
Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.
But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.
You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.
"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.
You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."
With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate.
His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.
As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping.
You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.
Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."
You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."
He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."
As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.
You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."
"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.
"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.
"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"
"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.
As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.
You frown, "Where you off to?"
"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.
"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.
"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.
"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"
Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.
Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"
"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."
"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘
#tom grant#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant imagine#tom grant fanfiction#tom grant fanfic#tom grant fic#tom make up#tom make up x reader#tom make up x you#tom make up imagine#tom make up fanfiction#tom make up fanfic#tom make up fic#*myfics#fic: tom g
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okay okay and "I'll always want to listen to you" with tom!! (love that you've included him on your list!!) 💕💕
adore you
pairing: tom grant x (f)reader
warnings: minors dni, fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers.
etc: this is the first time i’m writing for this sweet boy and he had like ten seconds of screen time so his characterization is hella up to interpretation lmao.
“I’m sorry.” You frown, realize that you’ve spent the last hour rambling; getting lost in your own thoughts, letting all of the frustrations, happiness, excitement, eventful things that had happened to you within the day pour out of you like a stream of exasperation, declarations, gasps, and laughs.
Something that Tom was probably used to from you by now, but something you still felt bad about—getting lost in the stories you needed to get out, that you wanted to tell him. The first person you went to talk to about anything, everything.
It had been like that for the handful of years the two of you had been friends. Tom was always the ear you needed, the friend, the welcome hug, the first thought in your head when anything good or bad happened.
“You’re probably sick of me stealing the thunder of our conversations all the time.” You laugh, press your fingers to your lips nervously, pushing your back into the cushions of his couch a little more.
“No,” he shakes his head, smiling. Reaches out to pull your legs into his lap, pulling you closer to him. “I'll always want to listen to you.”
The small circle he’s rubbing into the side of your ankle makes your stomach flutter, cheeks burn from the smile on them. From the simple act of friendship, of kindness, that feels so much deeper than that in the pit of the organ that’s in your chest—keeping you alive.
You don’t remember when the crush had started, presented itself. Had shown its ugly face ready to ruin everything the two of you had built over the years; the perfect friendship, commitment in each other that went far past the normal understanding of being there for a friend, or being a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on when it came to shitty breakups.
But ever since the feelings had slipped into your heart you can’t help but catch your breath every time your eyes meet from across a room, when you get put on the same workload and you get to spend a little extra time with him—to mostly goof off and throw things at each other, or sit on the floor and talk. Or after work when he all but drags you to his trailer to have dinner with him, watch his favorite show or film.
Stealing glances at him while his face lights up, while he laughed, smiled, poked fun at you.
Your stomach filled with those cheeky butterflies that made your entire chest feel warm and fingers tremble nervously—wanting to reach out and brush against his cheek, or hold his hand, the thought alone nerve ending, merciless to your insides.
It had been two years since his shitty breakup and there hasn't been anyone since. You’d hate to admit it but after the initial two month respite of it all, Tom had become more himself again. The Tom you knew before he was drained from an awful relationship, a Tom you never let yourself feel anything for because he was in a relationship, because these types of feelings were tricky, scary.
And now you couldn't run from them even if you tried.
If only you could tell him.
“What?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together as he gives you a questionably teasing look.
“What?”
“You’re staring,” he smirks.
“At you?”
“Mhm.” He presses his lips together, turns his attention back to the ankle he’s currently making feel too warm.
“You wish.”
“Oh, is that right?” He gives no warning when he grips your ankle hard, pulling both your feet into the crook of his arm to start tickling the bottoms of them.
“Tom! Stop!” Your shriek, cries, can be heard from miles away you’re sure as you try to kick out of his hold. A mute point that only pulls you closer to him, your butt almost in his lap.
“Admit it then!”
“Admit what?!”
“That you love staring at me,” he laughs.
You want to spit something smart at him but your body's fight or flight is making you want to throw slaps at him to get him off of you. “Fine!” Your breath is heavy in your lungs, exasperated. “I love staring at you!”
After he’s pulled away, let your feet drop back into his lap, he’s grinning at you. “I know. I like staring at you too.”
#tom (make up) x reader#tom grant x reader#tom (makeup) x you#tom grant#tom grant fluff#tom (make up)#tom grant x f!reader#joseph quinn fluff#joseph quinn x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant x y/n#tom grant fic#tom make up#make up 2019#joseph quinn#tom grant imagine#tom grant x fem!reader#blurb week
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Would you mind writing for Tom?🥺 Imagine he has been cooking a nice dinner for you all day cause earlier in the morning you had a fight with him over some nonsense (his old wounds because of Ruth surfacing up) and he said something really mean to you and then instantly regretted it but now he’s trying to make it up. Our tommy boy just scared to lose you like he did with Ruth. Some angst ending in smut?🫡
𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and tom get into a fight and, after he says something especially nasty to you, he makes it up to you in the best way.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tom grant (make up, 2019) x fem!reader
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fighting, mentions of drug use, accusations of cheating, smut (minors dni): fingering, unprotected sex
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg yes, i can see this so clearly, tommy tommy tommy is all that's in my head
"I'm gonna go hang with Jade after work," you said as you pulled your work shirt over your head, the scratchy material getting caught on your ponytail. "She said she got a new strain last night from her dealer and she wants to try it with me."
Once your shirt finally cleared your head, you watched Tom stiffen at his place in front of the sink. For some reason unknown to you, Tom didn't like when you hung out with Jade, but you had no idea why. Jade was cool and funny, she and Tom should have gotten on greatly, but Tom despised whenever you brought her up. You had tried to talk to him about it before, but, alas, no resolution ever came. He just got quiet and pissy, and you typically cancelled your plans with Jade just to keep Tom from giving you the silent treatment for the rest of the day.
But Jade had promised a fun night, and you were determined to have a life outside of Tom. "You're hangin' with Jade?" he asked, wiping the cereal from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Baby, you know I don't like Jade."
"Well, why not?" you asked, putting your hand on your hip. "She's fine—"
"She's a bitch."
"No, she's not," you told him quickly, surprised that he would ever call her— or anyone— that. "What's she ever done to you?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," Tom said firmly, and you frowned. You had never received that answer before, and you tilted your head.
"The fuck's that mean?" you asked. "Has she ever said something to you?"
"No."
"Or done something?"
Tom's twitchy silence was all the answer you needed. "What's she done?" you asked.
"I said I don't wanna talk about it," Tom repeated himself. "Just leave it alone. Just know I don't like her and I don't like you hanging out with her. But whatever, go have fun."
"Well, now I won't, since you're acting like this," you said with a huff. "Just tell me, what's going on? 'Cause I won't go hang out with her if she's done something bad to you. I just wanna know."
"I—" Tom started, and he heavily put his bowl down into the metal sink, hearing the loud clinking of everything rattling together. "I told you, just leave it alone. I just don't like her."
"I want a reason," you said. "What's she done to you to make you not like her?"
"God, just leave it alone," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "Can't you just listen to me when I tell you that I don't like her? I won't stop you from hanging out with her or anything, but I just don't like her."
"I don't want to do anything if it'll make you uncomfortable," you told him. "Tommy, we need to communicate, and—"
"Oh my God," Tom huffed. "More of your couples' therapy bullshit or whatever. Just leave it the fuck alone, won't ya?" His accent was getting thicker by the second, those dark brown eyes of his flashing with anger. "M'getting teasy, just stop."
"Just talk to me!" you exclaimed. "If there's some reason you don't want me hanging with Jade, let me know—"
"No, ya know what?" Tom said. "Go hang out with her. Might as well shag her while you're at it."
That stunned you silent. Tom wasn't exactly the jealous type, but he had never said anything that nasty to you before, and it took your breath away. "Tommy," you said softly.
"No, no, don't give me that," Tom said quickly. "Don't give me those sad eyes, I'm done. You wanna go hang out with Jade, fine by me, but don't pretend like you're being slick. I know you're shagging her, so go have fun with her and just leave me the fuck alone."
"Tom," you gasped. "I can't believe you just said that to me."
"Oh, what, upset you've been caught?" Tom asked, narrowing his eyes. "You're not gonna pull one over on me again, I'm smarter than that."
Your heart broke at his vitriolic anger, and you grabbed your sweater from off the bed. "I'm going to work," you spat. "But we're talking about this later."
"We can talk about this all you want," Tom said. "Doesn't change the fact that you lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you!" you cried. "Jade and I aren't shagging, and it honestly really hurts that you'd think I'd do that to you! Is it because I haven't said I love you yet? Because I do! I'm just scared to tell you because of how much I like you, I'm scared of scaring you off! You— Why're you acting like this? Why do you think I'm sleeping with Jade?"
That seemed to deflate Tom, because his shoulders lowered, and he softened his clenched jaw. "You're not," he said softly, more talking to himself than to you. "I... I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you should be," you said with a sniffle. "I can't believe you. I'm gonna be late to work, but I'm not done with this, I wanna come back to it when I get home. Alright?"
"I'm sorry!" Tom called after you as you left the trailer, and you heard him slam the door shut behind you as you walked away.
Your hands shook as you opened the door to the trailer, waiting for Tom to say something to you. The lights were all off inside, but there was faint music playing that you could hear from outside the trailer door. Tom was home, doing something, and your heart hurt at the thought of the confrontation that was about to happen. You had skipped out of the meeting with Jade to come straight home to figure out what Tom's problem was, and you had been worried all day about what it would end up being. Was he really that unsure of your relationship that he would think that you were sneaking around with someone else? You thought it was obvious how much you adore him, even if you hadn't told him "I love you" yet, but you didn't figure that he needed the exact words. Maybe he did, though.
"Tom?" you called as you opened the door, your voice wavering. The music got louder, some old love song or something, and the smell of food filled your nose. Had Tom cooked dinner? As you stepped further in, you saw your boyfriend standing at the small stovetop, his back to you as he stirred something, and he turned his head when you said his name.
"Alright?" he greeted you, and your head started to spin.
"Yeah," you nodded, sitting down and starting to take off your shoes. "You're making dinner."
"Yeah," Tom said. "I felt awful about this morning. I still do. I can't believe that I'd actually accuse you of that. I just got scared and insecure and... I guess I oughta tell you about Ruth."
"Ruth?" you asked as Tom flipped the knob on the stovetop to turn off the burner, and he came to sit next to you, wiping his sweaty palms on the knees of his jeans. "Who is that?"
"My ex," Tom said. "Umm... We were together for a long time. Since we were kids, really... But she moved here to be with me, but then she got it in her head that I was cheating on her. I don't know how or why, but she did. But, somehow, that turned into her pulling away from me and eventually she... She got with Jade. I don't know how long they were shagging before I found out, and I don't really wanna know. But Ruth left, and then you came, and I... I was always nervous around you, since the first day, because I didn't want to love you and have you leave me, and then you started hanging out with Jade, and I-My jealousy just got... I just assumed that it had happened again."
"Tommy," you whispered, and you grabbed his hands,. "Thank you for telling me, but I... This breaks my heart that you'd think I'd do this. I thought you trusted me more than that, o-or that you knew how much I loved you even if I didn't say it."
"Can you say it now?" Tom asked. His voice was quiet, his eyes cast down at your hands, and he cleared his throat before he added, "Ruth never said it, and I just need to hear it."
You sighed as you lifted your hands up from his to his face, pressing your palms into his cheeks, and you forced him to look up at you. His big eyes were wet, almost brimming with tears, and you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his for a moment before you said, "I love you, Tommy. I really, really love you."
"Yeah?" Tom asked. "Say it again."
"I love you," you said with a smile, and you kissed Tom's mouth again before you moved to kiss the smattering of light freckles on the bridge of his nose. "My handsome... I love you so much."
"I love you too," Tom whispered. "I'm really sorry for saying all that shit, I was just scared that it had happened again, and I—"
"I'm not mad anymore," you told him. "I mean, yeah, I'm still a little hurt, but at least now I know where the insecurity comes from. I... I forgive you, and I love you."
"Good," Tom whispered. "Umm, I made dinner. To say sorry. It's just spaghetti, but, like—"
"I appreciate it," you told him. "You're so sweet. God, I love you." You kissed him again, your arms circling his neck, and Tom took a deep breath through his nose as you kissed you back.
"I can never get tired of hearing you say that," Tom whispered, his hands reaching out and touching your hips, and you shuffled closer and closer until Tom was taking the initiative and hauling you into his lap. His hands smoothed down your ass as he kissed you, letting his nails scrape against the skin that your shorts didn't cover, and he was quick to move his hands around to the front and popping the button of your shorts.
"Tommy," you giggled, breaking the kiss and shyly burying your face in his neck. "What're you doing?"
"Nothing," Tom said with a smile. "Just tryin' to undress you. I wanna make it up to you; I was a huge dick to you and I'm so sorry."
"So you're gonna fuck me?" you laughed. "That's how you're gonna apologize to me? Dinner and sex?"
Tom wriggled his hand into your shorts and under your panties, and he shrugged. "Maybe," he said. His fingers pressed onto your skin, searching for your clit for a moment with the awkward angle, and you gasped softly when his fingers finally found it. He made small circles, slow and lazy with the tip of his middle finger, just enough stimulation to make you squirm, and he whispered, "Yeah? Feel good, baby?"
"Yeah," you whispered. "More, Tommy, more."
"I will, baby," Tom whispered. "I'll give you whatever you want."
"I just need you," you told him. "Please just fuck me, Tommy."
"Shh, have patience," Tom chuckled. "I'll do it at my own speed, pretty girl." His finger continued to play with you, gaining speed and pressure until your thighs were shaking around his waist, and you looked down at him crotch and saw a sizeable bulge in his shorts.
"You're turned on just from touching my clit?" you giggled, smoothing your hands through his short curls, and Tom nodded.
"Seein' you look all happy and pleased," Tom started. "Seein' you turned on turns me on."
"You're so stupid," you smiled and kissed him again, your hips bucking up into his hand. "I love you so much."
Tom groaned softly as his fingers trailed lower to your cunt, and he slotted his middle finger through your slit and collected your wetness on his rough fingertip. "You ready, pretty girl?" he asked, and you nodded, your hands reaching down to try to get into his pants, but Tom stopped you, nudging your hands away with his free hand. "This is about you, honey. Don't you worry about me."
"Alright," you mumbled, and Tom finally pushed his finger inside you. His finger was thick and warm in your cunt, and he instantly started to fuck you on his middle finger, not giving you anytime to adjust to the feeling. "Tom! Fuck!"
"Oh, I know," Tom whispered, kissing your cheek and gently nibbling on your ear. "Tell me how good it feels."
"So good, baby," you whined. "More, gimme another."
His index finger joined his middle, stretching your cunt open and fucking you quickly. Your shorts were still on, and the fabric muffled the noises of your wet slick being fucked in and out of you, but there was no muffling your moans and whimpers. "Fuck," you sobbed, hanging your head and hiding in Tom's neck. "Tommy, c'mon, want your cock."
"Whatever you want, baby," Tom said, and he withdrew his fingers from you. Your mouth watered when you saw your wetness on his fingers, and you grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. "Oh, greedy, so greedy... Need my hand to get my cock, though."
"Sorry," you mumbled around his fingers, and he tugged his fingers from between your lips and brought his hand to his shorts. You stood up on shaky legs and stripped off your shorts and panties, and Tom jumped forward and kissed at your hips as he unzipped his own shorts. You pulled off your shirt as well, unclipping your bra and letting it fall, and Tom dragged you back into a messy kiss as he shoved down his shorts past his fat balls. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back into his lap, and he kissed over your tits as you stroked his cock, watching him flex in your hand.
You both moaned as you sank down onto his cock, your sticky velvet walls hugging his cock perfectly, and Tom licked into your mouth as he grabbed you hard and started to fuck his hips up into you. "Wait, baby, wait," you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulder to stop him. "Take off your pants, I just wanna sit here with you."
"Here?" Tom asked. "On the couch? Don't you wanna move to the bed?"
"No," you said. "Just want you here and now."
Tom smiled his best winning grin and quickly shoved off his pants and threw it across the room towards the bedroom, and he whipped his shirt up over his head to be finally skin to skin with you. He dragged you into a tight embrace and kissed you, holding your head in his hands, and you could feel his heavy heartbeat against your chest. "I love you, Tommy," you whispered into your kiss, and Tom smiled. "Please never doubt that again."
"I won't," Tom whispered. "I was stupid to ever doubt you. And to accuse you of cheating. I was just so scared that Jade had taken another one of my girls..." He chuckled lightly and shook his head, and he sighed heavily. "I was just... Stupid. Really stupid."
"Ah, well," you told him. "At least I know you're stupid for me."
"You're so good at making the best out of everything," Tom said with a smile. "I love you."
You finally started to rock your hips down onto Tom, feeling his cock bury up inside you, and your mouth hung open as your hair fell into your face. "Tom, fuck," you mumbled. "Tommy, you feel so good."
"You feel like heaven," Tom whispered. "My sweet girl... Thank you for being with me. Thank you, thank you..."
"No thanks necessary," you told him as his hips bucked up, fucking you deeply. Your own desperate thrusts were met by him, and your rhythm was found quickly, moving as one unit, hips giving and taking and moving perfectly. You had never felt like this before, Tom had never made you feel like this before— you had had sex before, sure, but nothing as passionate and loving as this. This was lovemaking.
You kissed him, holding him tightly, and you groaned as your walls throbbed around his cock. "Fuck," you mewled, and Tom attacked your neck with kisses as he moaned gently. "Tommy, gimme more."
Silently, Tom fell from inside you, and he picked you up and carried you the short distance to the bed, setting you on your back. He was back inside you in an instant, and the new angle made your back arch and your toes curl. "Tommy!" you whimpered as he started to properly fuck you, the bed creaking under the force of his heavy thrusts. He hovered over you and kissed you as he fucked you, his cock sliding deliciously inside you and fucking into that one spot inside your cunt that made you groan and sob. The knot was tightening inside your stomach, bolts of energy making your thighs twitch and your belly quiver, and you reached down and rubbed at your clit quickly as your cunt throbbed again.
"Yeah, girl," he whispered. "Yeah, baby, squeeze me with that cunt, show me how good I fuck you."
"I'm gonna cum," you whined, scratching your nails down his shoulder. "Tom, I'm gonna cum!" Your hand went quicker on your clit, urging yourself closer and closer to the edge, and Tom groaned in your neck as his cock flexed inside you.
"Me too, baby," Tom panted breathlessly, pistoning his hips to shove his cock deep in you, and you threw your head back as you cried out at the hot pleasure that flooded your body. Your legs were shaking as you squeezed him around his hips, pressing your heels into his tight asscheeks to urge him deeper. "Yes, baby, fuck yes."
"Tommy," you groaned as he licked up your neck, collecting the sweat that dotted your skin. "Tommy, fuck!"
"Cum for me," Tom whispered, and he grabbed hard at your hips, surely leaving red marks in his wake. "C'mon, baby, cum all over my dick."
You hardly had to wait to fulfill Tom's wish, because, just as he was touching his hand to yours to aid you in rubbing your clit, the knot inside your belly snapped, and you all but screamed as you came hard, your hips twitching and bucking as your breath left your chest. Your vision went white for just a moment, and you grabbed hard at Tom's neck to drag him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "Fuck," he whispered against your mouth, and he quickly drew himself out of you to cum all over your tummy.
His thick cum covered your belly, and his red chest heaved as he panted. His pink lips were hung open as he looked down at you, and a withered smile spread across his face. "My pretty girl," he gasped, and he fell down beside you with a sigh. "Are you happy?"
"Yes," you told him. Your heart was still racing, and you turned onto your side to place your head on his chest. "Very happy indeed, Tommy."
"Good," Tom laughed. "'Cause I think dinner's ready."
#bex answers#anon ask#tom grant#tom grant x reader#make up 2019#joseph quinn#joseph quinn x reader#*my writing
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imagine going out for date night with tom grant… but he cant wait until he gets you home, so he pulls the car over to fill you up. better sit still on the way back so you don't spill any of his dessert.
Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnng 😩
He a horny little slut.
"C'mere, love," Tom whispers hotly against your kiss-swollen lips, his hands already tugging you across the center console and into his lap.
"What're you up to, Tommy?" You chuckle and crawl over the console. The small car was awkward and cramped, making you both snort in a fit of lustful giggles as you fought with the strap of Tom's seatbelt.
"Just want my girl, that a crime?" He mumbles as you finally settle into place, his lips attacking yours once more before you can tell him that public indecency was, in fact, a crime. The thought quickly leaves you when you feel his hands massage the flesh of your thighs under your dress, but he's pulling back just as fast as he was on you. "Wait, hang on..."
"Oop!" You exclaim in surprise when he, with some struggle, fully reclines the driver's seat with a triumphant grin, the moonlight from the sky dimly illuminating his (quite unfairly) gorgeous face. You giggle at him, loving the way amusement and love seem to pour out of his big brown eyes.
"There, we go, much better," he groans as he lays nearly horizontal, his hands pulling you down to him, "now, c'mere."
The kiss is a mix of tongue and teeth, smiles and moans, a desperate bid to completely devour each other as gently as humanly possible. The throbbing between your legs grows nearly unbearable each time Tom groans, the deep, throaty sounds that vibrate against your ribcage sends shivers up your spine.
Rolling your hips was second nature, the hardness at the front of Tom's "date night jeans" was too enticing to ignore for too long. The relief you feel from the seam of his trousers pulls a thin moan from you, the sound immediately swallowed by Tom.
"Fuck, don't you sound pretty," he mutters through heaving breaths, lifting his hips to match your pace, his mouth now leaving a trail of sloppy kisses and lovebites along the slope of your neckwhile his hands grope your flesh greedily.
"Tommy," you moan into the dark car and grind into him harder, your hands threading through his hair to massage his scalp the way he likes, the way that makes him needy.
"F-Fuck me, darling, h-haa," he moans when your fingers grip his hair at the nape of his neck in a firm hold. "Need you," he whispers into the skin of your neck, "gonna let me have you, darling? Hm? Please?"
The gentle begging really does it for you, Tom knows it. He loves the way you squirm when he asks for your permission to fuck you, the way your thighs tighten around his waist to try relieve the pressure between them; plus he just loves asking. Consent is sexy.
"Yeah, Tommy, you can have me," you agree almost instantly. Tom groans happily and gives your lips a loving kiss. Absolutely filthy, but still loving.
"Thank you, lovie, thank you," he pants as he works on unbuckling his trousers, his hands undoing the buttons of his jeans as fast as he can. A pleased sigh floats from his lips when his cock is released from the confines of his boxers. You barely get a glimpse of it before he's pulling you closer and draping the fabric of your dress out of his way.
"O-Oh, fuck," you moan when his fingers slide the gusset of your soaked panties to the side, the rough pads of his index and middle finger glide through the wetness that pours from your cunt. The pleasure builds steadily as he caresses you, eyes sliding shut, overcome by the steady waves of euphoria that roll upon you.
"God, you're so wet," Tom muses to himself, his fingers petting the soft, wet petals of your pussy until he dips them into you. His eyes stay fixed on your face, watching in rapture as you bask in the pleasure he gives you. The stretch of his fingers sends your hips into motion, each pump of his thick fingers has you grinding into them. You can hear the moans and praises Tom grunts as you ride his fingers.
"T-Tommy," you whine when his fingers aren't enough, "need more, baby, please."
That's enough for him.
He withdraws his fingers and wastes no time lining himself up with your throbbing entrance. With a harsh grip on your hips, Tom carefully guides you on to him. You listen through the pounding of your heart to the breathy gasps and moans that Tom releases. You both share a satisfied moan when you rest flush on top of him.
"Holy fuck!" Tom cries through gritted teeth as your grip on his hair tightens, the sting at his scalp adding to his pleasure. The soft, tight, heat of you was burning him alive, he was already throbbing uncontrollably inside you. You weren't faring any better than Tom was, the stretch of him was always delicious, leavjng you clawing the muscular shoulder beneath your free hand, the fullness of his length seated completely inside you made you light in the head.
The windows of the car have sufficiently fogged up, the darkness of the secluded street now clouded over from the heat of your bodies. Heavy breaths and fluttering whines fill the small space, Tom waiting patiently until you give him the go-ahead. The gentle rocking of your hips is all the confirmation he needs.
"N-No, no, don't," he says and grips your thighs to keep you from moving. Instead he spreads his legs as much as he can in the small car, finding his footing to drive up into you. His pace is slow, letting you get accustomed to him as best he can before his resolve completely breaks. He only lasts a few more thrusts before he's whimpering with you.
"Tommy! Fuck, feels good," you babble as you kiss the sweaty skin of his jaw. The moment you sink your teeth into the sweet spot below his neck, he was a goner.
"A-Ah, fuck!" He whimpers as his hips falter before speeding up, the car rocking with his now heavy thrusts. Those sturdy arms you love wind around your waist to hold you down, giving him better leverage to fuck you.
"Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Tom!" You cry out as he pounds into you, filthy sclickschlickschlick sounds harmonize your cries.
"M'close, lovie," Tom warns in a strained voice, his face flushed red from exertion. "Rub your clit, baby, rub your clit for me!"
He was desperate, you can tell by the sound of his voice alone, but the throbbing of his dick and the faltering of his rhythm were clear indicators of his rapidly approaching end. Your fingers felt nowhere near as good as his does, but they get the trick done. The added pleasure of your fingers playing with your clit has you fluttering around him, each spasm drawing a whimper from your boyfriend. The pleasure mounting in your core was building more and more, until you couldn't take it anymore.
"F-Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" You exclaim when your high finally broke over you, your legs trembling around Tom's lap. The arch in your back grows, giving Tom the perfect view of your sweaty and gorgeous face, the furrow in your brows, the dazed look in your eyes, the way your mouth hung open wide to let out the most pornographic moan— that was his undoing.
"Jesus f-fucking— fffUUUUCK!" He groans loudly and throws his head back, his eyes rolling back as he finishes inside you. You moan at the hot feeling of his cum filling you, instinctively grinding down into him to help milk him dry. Fluttering whines leave your lover as he basks in the sensitivity, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your ass.
"Ooooooh fuck," he sighs as you relax into him completely, the car now quiet save your heavy breathing. Lazy hands move across your body, tenderly soothing any aches from his frenzied grip. Loving kisses rain down on your head and shoulder, any place he can reach is given a delicate kiss. You can't help but giggle, he makes you too happy.
"You, ok, pretty girl?" He asks with a blissed out smile, mirroring your own.
"Never been better, Tommy."
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💖
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#tom grant x you#tom grant x fem!reader#tom grant x female reader#tom grant x reader#tom grant#tom grant make up#tom grant make up 2019#make up 2019#make up#joseph quinn characters#little lion literature
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Hi ! How are you ?
Can you write a Tom Grant x Male reader imagine where Tom goes to male reader after his break up with Ruth because he needs comfort and they are friends and reader have feelings for Tom ?
Thank you 🥺
-🦦
Maybe It's A Good Thing?
pairing: tom grant x male!reader
summary: after his tough breakup with ruth, tom confides in his friend but when they start to talk and previously locked away feelings finally begin to surface it has him questioning everything once again.
warnings: mentions of a messy breakup, mostly just angst, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption (cider), swearing, unrequited love
word count: 1.8k
a/n: i absolutely loved this request and i think i want to write a second part to this already…
read part 2 here
friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!
You and Tom had been good friends from the moment he’d started working at the caravan park. You were one of the only other guys around his age and also a new start after you finished your time at school. Your parents had pointed you towards the local caravan park, convincing you that it would be like you were on holiday even though you were at work.
They weren’t entirely right about that but you enjoyed working there nonetheless. The work could be tiring but the atmosphere was always cheery in the small, lively community where everyone looked out for one another.
Tom had moved down from Derby, a total newcomer from across the country. Still, with his playful personality, he fit in almost too well. He was always up for a laugh, always smiling unless he’d had another fight with Kai although the two of them always made up soon enough.
The only trouble he ever had was the heartache of missing his girlfriend. Her parents never allowed her to come down to visit so he often had to make the journey back to Derby to see her. Long-distance was something most people couldn’t pull off but somehow they’d always made it work.
So, it surprised you when they broke up not too long after Ruth finally came down to visit. A few weeks had passed and everything seemed to be fine. Well, until Kai started saying things about her, insinuating that she was having an affair with one of the other workers.
Of course, Tom didn’t believe it at first. Not until Ruth came stumbling out of the sea, looking as though she’d almost drowned and went straight to Jade. Jade gave her her jacket and, when Tom saw, he practically pounced on Kai.
All you could do was stand there and watch, not knowing how to comfort him or calm him down because you were actually happy that Kai was right. You shouldn’t have been but you were and no matter how much guilt you felt for feeling that way, you couldn’t help it.
Tom had been in a long-term relationship from the day you met him. He was committed and very much in love with the girl. Still, that didn’t stop you from falling for him. You wished it had. You wished you didn’t have feelings for him because it would have made everything so much easier.
You’d pushed those feelings aside for years, trying to hide how you felt about him. Hell, you’d even tried dating other people but it never worked out and it never would. Not while you were in love with him. But he was in a relationship, he was happy. He was off-limits.
You knew they were arguing, you could hear them yelling. Well, you could hear him yelling. Ruth was painfully quiet and you knew she wasn’t giving him the answers he wanted. Then, you heard his front door slam shut followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. For just a moment, you considered going after him to make sure he was okay but you knew he probably needed a minute to himself to clear his head.
They’d been together since they were 15 — for three years. It would take time for him to get over it, to calm down. It wasn’t just because they had broken up or that she was leaving him for a girl but the fact that she had been going behind his back with Jade. She had been cheating on him, lying to him. Whether she was actively pursuing a relationship with Jade behind his back or not.
She hadn’t been honest with him and, as a result, she had hurt him. You’d never hurt him, never. Although you could understand her side a little. She had probably been coming to terms with her sexuality and trying to understand her feelings for Jade. Tom was all she had ever known so you couldn’t fault her for wanting to experience something more than that — to find herself.
She had just gone about it the wrong way and she hurt him when he didn’t deserve it.
For about an hour it was quiet. Everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing before the incident and you, well, you had stayed inside your home trying to figure out what you were going to say to him in the morning — how you were going to comfort him.
Although you didn’t have as much time as you had expected when you heard the quiet tap of knuckles against your door. You didn’t expect it to be him standing there when you opened the door but there he was. His expression was dull, his eyes cast down before they slowly looked up to meet yours.
“Hey. Can I, uh, can I come in?” he asked awkwardly, his voice shaking a little.
He had been crying. You could see the red stain of tears around his eyes; the dampness that still shone on his cheeks; the way his still wet eyelashes huddled together, hugging one another.
You nodded and stepped aside, letting him come inside.
You heard him sigh as you closed the door and turned back to find him already slumped on your sofa with his head in his hands. He raked his fingers through his hair, his leg jittering up and down as you made your way over to the fridge.
“You alright, mate?” you asked as you walked back over, handing him a cider.
He gladly took the drink from your hand, shaking his head from side to side as he pushed his finger under the ring pull to open the can.
“No, mate. I’m not fucking okay.” He took a long gulp from his drink and sighed. “Sorry.”
Now you were shaking your head as you opened your drink. It fizzed a little, a small bit pouring over the top, dripping down onto your finger. You brought your lips to it, tasting the sweetly bitter liquid. “Nah, it’s cool. You’re right to be angry.”
“Yeah, but not at you.”
You chuckled, “Never said you were.”
He glanced up at you for a moment, his eyes now stoic as they met yours. He hummed and looked away again as he drank some more.
“You wanna talk about it? That’s why you’re here, right?”
He sighed again, mulling over what he was going to say as you leaned against the counter, waiting patiently for him to go on.
“I- It’s not like I didn't see it. I just… I didn’t want to see it. I love her, you know? So much and she… she just…”
“Yeah.” You cut him off, knowing he didn’t want to put it into words right now and rolled your head back as you took another swig of your cider.
“We’ve been together for years and we were happy. At least, I thought we were. I just- I don’t understand why she’d do this to me. I… I thought she loved me too.” His voice cracked and his hold on the can tightened slightly.
You hummed, unsure of what to say. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you silently sipping at your drinks. You wanted to move closer, to sit beside him and wrap a soothing arm around his shoulders, but you were worried about overstepping.
The two of you were close friends but the only physical contact you’d ever really made was while you were playfighting. You’d never even hugged him for more than a moment and even then it wasn’t anything intimate and ended with a friendly slap on the back.
Your voice broke through the silence. “I’m sure she did, at least once. I mean, you’ve been together for so long. That shit was definitely real but maybe this is a good thing?”
He glanced over to you and scoffed, “A good thing? You really think this is a good thing?”
“I don’t mean it like that. I mean, have you ever dated anyone else? Or has it always been her? You were so young when you got together, too young to really know yourselves, let alone know what you really want.”
“What do ya mean by that?”
“I’m not saying you never loved her because I know you did. I’m just saying: do you really still love her now? Or were you just with her because you’d always been together? Were you really happy or was it just familiar? The safe option.”
You could tell he didn’t like what you were suggesting but you could also see that he was considering your words.
“Look, I loved her okay? I really, really did. But I… Fuck, I don’t know.” His fingers pushed through his curls, tugging on each lock as it passed. He was frustrated — confused.
You stood quietly, letting him think. You weren’t sure what else to say and you didn’t want to say anything to make him feel worse. All you wanted was for him to feel better, to help repair his broken heart.
After a deep breath, you moved to sit beside him and, whether he meant to or not, he leaned just a tiny bit closer to you.
“What is it you want? Look at it this way, you’re a free man now. You’re young, single and finally ready to see what the world has to offer outside of your relationship with Ruth. Outside of this shitty old caravan park even.”
When his head turned to look at you, the distance you’d convinced yourself was between you suddenly slipped away. Your eyes met his, looking into a bottomless brown. He seemed unsure, but as second after second passed he didn’t move away.
Before you knew what came over you, you were leaning in to kiss him but before your lips could meet, he quickly pulled away and jumped up off of the sofa.
“I- Um- I’m not… I’m not-” He backed away, his eyes looking everywhere, anywhere but at you.
“Tom.” You stood up after him, slowly stepping closer again as he reached back for the handle to your front door.
He turned the handle and stepped outside, only turning away when he reached the bottom of the steps. You stood in the doorway, watching as he hastily fled back to his caravan.
“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your eyelids drop for a moment as you went back inside, closing the door behind you.
You knew you shouldn’t have done that, even if a small part of you really thought he wanted you to. Maybe you imagined the look in his eyes, the tension in the air. Even if you didn’t imagine it and it was real, now wasn’t the time. He was confused and hurt and you knew better than to take advantage of that.
You’d give him some time and then apologise. Hopefully, you’d be able to patch things up before it’s too late. Though a part of you thought maybe it was a good thing he knew you had feelings for him now. Maybe you’d finally be able to stop pretending.
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