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tempobrucera · 4 days
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Linger
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Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: 5 times you want to ask Thomas to stay the night but don’t + 1 time Thomas stays Warnings: Fluff, some yearning - I guess A/N: Short and sweet (short isn’t what I am known for and the other ones are getting much longer again) and probably not really good but I need to get myself back to writing. So many ideas are still waiting for me, next ones are gonna be another Thomas (smut) one and some more poly fics.
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
.#####.
One
You can’t really remember when you thought about it the first time. About Thomas staying the night. Thomas in your bed, next to you, keeping you warm. The first time you thought about asking him to stay you can remember however. 
After everyone already left Thomas decided to stay.
“I could have another drink,” he had smiled, “And another cigarette.”
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tempobrucera · 4 days
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Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
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tempobrucera · 5 days
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tempobrucera · 5 days
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New idea: instead of writing the fic, you come over to my house and I tell you the entire plot while I pace my tiny kitchen. There’s a cup of tea, warm in your hands. The words don’t stop and the affection never leaves your expression.
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tempobrucera · 16 days
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Thomas Raggi @ Ann Demeuleester After Show Party for Paris Fashion Week
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tempobrucera · 17 days
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tempobrucera · 19 days
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tempobrucera · 30 days
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Thanks so much for your comment 🥰
Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
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tempobrucera · 1 month
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Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
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tempobrucera · 1 month
Text
Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
57 notes · View notes
tempobrucera · 1 month
Note
as I've already said, your list is very good, so if it's ok, I wanna one more hehe)
Sentences: 70. "I saw that. You just checked out my ass." & 72. "If you keep fucking me this good, I'll marry you."
Mood: 8. Idiots to Lovers
Scenarios: 11. Person A and Person B almost burning down the house when making dinner because they're too busy making out.
Hiiiii 💕
I don’t know if you can still remember this but guess who has written this ancient prompt request now?
Me, a really slow me.
Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
0 notes
tempobrucera · 1 month
Text
Fire Alarms & Love Hearts
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Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas
Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.
Words: 10.1k
Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that
A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und
Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist
._____.
It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.
"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”
You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"
He giggles.
"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.
Now you are the one laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."
You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.
When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.
“Hello neighbour,
I would like to ask you out for dinner.
If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.
P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)
P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.
Thom"
You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.
It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.
"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.
He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.
"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”
“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”
His eyes go wide.
"Shit!"
He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.
He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.
"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."
You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.
“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“
You laugh.
"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."
He smiles back.
"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”
“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."
"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."
You start laughing.
"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”
“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."
You smile at him.
"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.
He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."
It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.
"We should do that again."
You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.
"Yes. Definitely."
"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."
*_____*
Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.
"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.
"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."
"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.
"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.
He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.
"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."
*_____*
Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.
"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."
You smile.
"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."
He blushes.
"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.
You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.
"I didn't say that."
He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.
"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.
"That sounds great," you say.
He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.
"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.
"What would that be?"
"A bet."
He raises an eyebrow.
"What would this bet involve?"
"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."
He laughs.
"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."
"Maybe, maybe not."
He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
"We'll see," you say.
And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.
The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.
"Can I try yours?" You ask.
"Yes, if I can try yours."
You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.
"This is amazing," you say.
"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"
You're smiling, shaking your head.
"No, it's good."
"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"
"Don't make me answer that."
He chuckles.
"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."
"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."
"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.
He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.
"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"
He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.
"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.
"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"
"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."
"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."
"Adorable."
"Not."
You're shaking your head.
"Definitely."
He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.
"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.
"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"
"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.
When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.
"What?" You ask.
"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."
You chuckle.
"You can have another one if you like."
He nods and kisses you again.
*_____*
When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.
He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.
He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.
When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.
"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.
He blushes.
"Thanks," he whispers.
He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.
"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.
He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.
"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."
You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.
"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."
He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.
"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.
"Thank you."
"I hope we can do that again, soon."
"Me too."
You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.
He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.
"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.
*_____*
After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.
"Hi neighbour," he says.
"Hi," you grumble.
He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.
"What's wrong?"
"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."
Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."
"They better be," you say.
You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.
"Is this your doing?"
He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."
"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."
"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.
You look at them both.
"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."
The firefighter sighs.
"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.
"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."
Thomas sighs, but he agrees.
"Fine."
"Good," you say.
It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.
"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.
You shrug.
"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."
"Good night," he says.
"Night."
He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.
*_____*
The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.
Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.
"Fuck," he whispers.
"What is it?"
"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”
"Still."
"It's fine."
He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.
"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.
He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.
He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.
"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.
He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”
"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.
"Yes, please."
He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.
"Shit," he breathes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.
You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.
You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.
"It's fine."
"It's been a while."
"You can't control these things."
He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.
"I'll make it up to you," he says.
"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."
"Still," he says.
*_____*
Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.
Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.
Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.
"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.
"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.
"How's the birthday boy doing?"
"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Girlfriend?"
"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.
"Okay, boyfriend," you say.
He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.
"I like that," he says.
"Me too."
*_____*
He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.
He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.
You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.
"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”
"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Close your eyes."
He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.
"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.
"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.
"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.
You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.
"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.
He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.
You raise an eyebrow.
"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"
He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," he admits.
You laugh.
"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
"Lie back and relax."
"I can do that," he says.
You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.
"Oh god, please," he gasps.
You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.
"Fuck," he gasps.
"Can I?" You ask.
"Please," he begs.
You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”
Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.
For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.
“You enjoy that?”
"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.
"You ready for me, birthday boy?"
"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.
You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.
“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.
You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.
"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.
He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.
You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.
"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.
"It was," you say, kissing his temple.
"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.
"Stay, I'll do it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.
"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”
"It was a pleasure."
"What about you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”
"You did?"
"Yes."
He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.
"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.
"There's no need," you whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.
"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.
*_____*
A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.
Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.
"You're staring," she says.
"Yes," you answer.
She's grinning.
"Do you need help?" She asks.
"No."
"I know a lot about him."
"I don't doubt it."
"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.
“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”
She's grinning, and her eyes light up.
"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."
"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.
She looks at you confused.
"No, but why would you think that?"
"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."
"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”
“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."
"So, what do you have planned so far?"
"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."
"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”
“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"
"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"
"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”
“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”
._____.
Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.
His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.
"Fuck," you gasp.
"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.
"Fuck," you say again.
He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.
"Thomas, please," you beg.
He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.
"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.
Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.
He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.
You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.
"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.
He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Are you tired already?"
"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.
"You'll get one," he says.
He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.
He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.
"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.
"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.
"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.
You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.
"Thomas, look at me," you say.
He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.
"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.
"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.
"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.
“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.
He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.
"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.
He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.
"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.
"Please, what?"
"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.
"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”
He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.
"Shit, I'm close," he moans.
Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Yes, indeed," you breathe.
*_____*
“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.
“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”
“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”
“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”
She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
._____.
It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.
"I have a present for you," he says.
"So do I," you smile.
"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.
He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.
"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
You take the bracelet and put it on.
"It's so beautiful, thank you."
He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.
"And now your turn," he says.
You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.
"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”
“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.
._____.
When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.
At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.
"One day I want to see them with you," he says.
"Someday, maybe."
"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.
The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.
“What’s your favourite,” he asks.
"You're my favourite," you whisper back.
"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”
"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.
"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.
"So, which one is yours?"
"That would be the Orion nebula."
"Why that one?"
"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."
You look at him.
“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."
He's laughing and kisses you.
._____.
When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.
“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."
He laughs.
"That sounds wonderful."
You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs.
"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.
You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.
“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.
"Yes, that's right," he whispers.
He's smiling and kisses your nose.
"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.
You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.
"Do you need a hand?" He asks.
"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.
"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.
"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."
You smile and giggle.
"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."
"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."
You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.
"Yes, it is."
He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.
"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.
"I love you too."
He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"
You're giggling.
"Yes, I would like that," you say.
His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.
"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."
You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.
"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.
"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."
"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.
His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.
"God, you're so wet," he moans.
"Thomas," you gasp.
"Mhm?"
"The sauce, it's burning."
"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.
"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.
“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"
"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."
“Making out? Or just distracted.”
“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”
"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.
"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.
"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.
"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.
"That sounds like a good plan," he says.
"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..
You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.
“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.
He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.
"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.
"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.
"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.
"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."
You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.
“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"
"Maybe," you laugh.
"I love it," he says.
"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.
"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"
"Tell me," you say.
"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.
"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.
"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.
"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.
"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.
"Yes, very," you smile.
"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.
His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.
He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.
He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.
His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.
“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.
"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.
"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"
"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.
“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.
He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.
“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.
"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.
His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.
"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.
"Yes, please."
His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.
He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.
"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."
"Yes," you gasp.
"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."
"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.
"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.
"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."
"Yes, yes," you whimper.
"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.
"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."
"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.
He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.
“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."
He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.
"Yes, please, I would love that."
You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Touch me," he says.
"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.
"Anywhere," he moans.
"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.
"Yes," he whimpers.
"And here?" You lick his abs.
"God, yes," he moans.
"What about here?" You circle his cock.
"Yes, please."
"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.
"Fuck, yes," he groans.
"Where else, should I touch you?"
"On my thighs," he breathes.
"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.
"There, please," he pants.
Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.
"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.
Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.
"There too," he whimpers.
You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.
"Yes, there," he moans.
Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.
"Can I?"
"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.
"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.
"Are you close?"
"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.
"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.
"So good," he whispers.
"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.
"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."
"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.
He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.
"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”
“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”
He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.
"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.
"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”
“Okay,” you say looking curious.
“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.
"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.
……
Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans
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tempobrucera · 2 months
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Omg are you traveling for valentine's day? Seeing someone special? 🤭
Before you ask every day now:
Who is asking? And why do you have to know?
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tempobrucera · 2 months
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sanremo || thomas raggi
pairing: thomas raggi x gn!reader
word count: 2707 (is this my longest fic? i think so)
warnings: swearing i guess? two poor attempts at avoiding a makeout scene because i didn't want to write them? overall cringe content? slightly suggestive at the end?
summary: ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.
notes: this was supposed to be posted like two months ago i'm so sorry. vic ethan and damiano editions coming soon* i hope. *iwbys video kind of soon if you know what i mean
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“TESORO, get in here! It’s starting!” you yelled from the comfort of the couch. 
“Aspetta!” your boyfriend yelled back from the discomfort of the kitchen. 
“Sanremo waits for no one!” you replied. You heard the clattering of plates and the sound of the stovetop being turned off before Thomas entered the living room empty-handed.
“So, I kind of fucked up the pasta,” he began. You sighed and opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “Not to worry! It’s easily salvageable and the rest of the snacks are ready. I’ll bring them out in a second.”
He went back into the kitchen and returned moments later, balancing plates of prosciutto e melone and assorted cheeses as well as a bowl of grapes and some crackers. As he set them down onto the coffee table, you leaned over to pick up a cube of cheese.
“Nicely cubed,” you commented. “You should, like, feed me the grapes. I think it would be funny.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to? Because I’ll do it if you want me to.”
You glanced at the TV. “Not now. You have five minutes to figure out the pasta situation because I think Amadeus is almost done talking,” you said before pausing to contemplate. When it came to Sanremo, ‘almost done’ meant the amount you expect it to last, doubled and rounded up. Especially if it was Amadeus. “Maybe more like ten minutes. You have ten minutes if you want to be here in time for the first performance, five minutes if you want to briefly make out with me beforehand.”
That was enough for Thomas to run, nay, sprint back to the stovetop. 
You’d been watching Sanremo since far, far before Thomas and the band competed, and it was no exaggeration to say it was one of your favourite weeks of the year. The press conferences, the memes, the performances: all of it brought immense joy to an otherwise boring month. And it was a nice lead-in to Eurovision too—if you liked the winner.
Thomas was normal. He’d watch the final with you, and sometimes cover night as well, but he mostly relied on you to give him your takes on the best songs—he trusted your music taste. When he told you that Måneskin were considering participating, you yelled so loudly the neighbour knocked on your door to ask if everything was alright. And you admit, that was a bit of an overreaction, but in the moment, you simply could not contain yourself. Thomas understood. He always did.
Four minutes and thirty seconds later Thomas was back. He put the plates of spaghetti alle vongole next to the rest of the food and sat on the couch before pulling you onto his lap. Your lips had just barely met his when you heard a familiar voice emanating from the TV speaker. 
“Oh fuck, Gianni Morandi is talking,” you said, turning around so your back was pressed against his chest. He let out a whine of discontent. “I’m sorry, tesoro, but my parasocial grandfather comes first.”
He pouted and put his head on your shoulder, which you figured was a sign that he was going to complain, so you turned back briefly to grant him a kiss.
“You should do that more often,” he said.
“Kiss you?”
“Yeah!”
“I kiss you plenty,” you replied. “Now shush, I think Elodie’s about to come on.”
Thomas sighed. “I hope you were this invested when we were competing.”
You turned back to kiss him again. “This and more. You’re lucky you weren’t there to witness it, I was insufferable.” Your friend group took turns hosting viewing parties during that week, culminating in a big party at your place for the final. You had gone all out—you baked a cake, decorated your living room with assorted pictures of Thomas (for good luck), and even impulsively bought a bottle of Prosecco. Your friends still tease you about how loudly you’d shush everyone when Måneskin came on. 
The same went for other Måneskin performances as well—Victoria liked to tell you at the end of each show that your voice made up most of the screaming crowd during guitar solos. She wasn’t wrong, per se, and who could fault you! Being Thomas’s one-person hype squad was basically your second job title.
He didn’t bother you more, allowing you to watch Elodie’s performance in peace…sort of. By the end of the song, you were lip syncing passionately to Thomas as he watched with a massive grin on his face. 
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “I finally get what you mean when you say you like hearing me talk about my boring guitar shit. I like seeing you nerd out like this.”
You kept up the energy during Colla Zio and Mara Sattei’s performances; you made sure to tell Thomas all about how much you liked the lyrics Damiano wrote and how they really should consider recording more ballads in Italian because he has such a way with words, and Thomas laughed and said he’d pitch it at their next rehearsal. 
When the co-hosts started talking again, you realized the pasta was getting cold. Neither of you had touched the food since the performances started. 
“Oh my god, the food,” Thomas blurted out. “I spent like half an hour this morning figuring out how to clean clams and we haven’t even tried them yet.”
You moved off Thomas’s lap and leaned over to take one of the plates on the table and a fork, and Thomas did the same. You took the first bite simultaneously, making sure to try both the clam and the spaghetti.
“Hm,” you began. “I think it needs a bit of salt. I think the clams are okay, though. I rate it a 7 out of 10.”
“I don’t,” Thomas complained, grabbing a napkin to spit out a clam. “The clam I just ate was sandy. Gross. I’m scared to eat the rest of them now.” He pushed the rest of the clams to one side. 
To no one’s surprise, Amadeus and Gianni were still going on and on by the time you were finished eating. You were setting down the plates on the countertop to deal with later when Thomas asked you to bring a bottle of wine on the way back.
“Which one?” you asked, scanning the shelf of bottles with two glasses in hand. The various wines were organized by grape variety and year, for the aesthetic, but neither of you were knowledgeable to the point of snobbery. It was fun to act like you were, though. 
Prolonged silence on Thomas’s end. “I don’t care. A white wine. You should probably hurry, though, they’re starting the preamble for the next artist.”
You took the first bottle your free hand met and quickly shuffled back to the living room. This was one of the performances you were most looking forward to tonight.
Thomas beckoned for you to return to your spot on his lap by way of grabby hands. You happily obliged and yelled in excitement when Gianni announced the next performer.
“It’s my boy!” you cheered as Tananai walked onto the stage.
“I thought I was your boy?” your boyfriend asked, the pout evidence in his voice.
You weren’t sure if it was conscious on his part or not, but Thomas’s hold around your waist tightened ever so slightly.
“He’s my parasocial boy,” you corrected. “Now stai zitto, my boy is singing.”
This time, you meant it. You managed to contain yourself for the entire duration of the song—partly because you’d started sobbing a little halfway through—and so did Thomas. You continued to sit in silence even after the song was over. Thomas spoke first.
“Wow,” he said. “I’m starting to see why he’s your parasocial boy now.”
As the night went on, you fluctuated between being too tired to function and being incapable of sitting still. Thomas gasped loudly when Rosa Chemical brought Fedez on stage, and you briefly fell in love with Sangiovanni during his interval performance with Morandi.
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were rudely awoken by Thomas hitting your arm repeatedly. “Amore, they’re about to announce the artists in the super final.”
“I don’t care anymore as long as Ultimo doesn’t make it,” you replied with a yawn. You were choosing to blame your inability to stay awake on the wine—you and Thomas finished the bottle when you started playing a drinking game after Ariete’s performance. “You voted from both our phones, I hope?”
“Of course, schatje.”
“Dutch?”
“I needed to switch things up, I always call you amore. I learned it from a fan in Belgium.”
“Hmm. I like it. You should use it more.”
On the TV, Chiara, Amadeus, and Gianni were announcing the classifica. You were disappointed to see some of your favourite acts so low in the standings, and by the time they were announcing the top 10 you were clenching your fists anxiously.
“Il sesto posto…” Gianni began on the screen. You leaned forward ever so slightly. “Giorgia!” 
Tananai hadn’t been mentioned yet, which meant…
“MY BOY MADE IT TO THE SUPER FINAL!” you yelled, unintentionally hitting Thomas in the face as you pumped your fists. He, of course, was startled and almost lost his grip on you. “Sorry amore.”
“I’m okay, don’t worry,” he said. “Let’s vote for Tananai?”
“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve said to me all night.”
He handed you your phone and you went into your messages, sending the maximum amount of ‘02’s you could to the number shown on screen. Thomas did the same. After that was done, you went into your messages to beg everyone you knew to vote for him as well, and even took it a step further by grabbing Thomas’s phone and posting to his Instagram story. You would stop at nothing to make sure Tananai won—or, at the very least, to make sure Ultimo lost. 
All that was left for you to do was wait. Thomas turned you around so you were face to face, like at the beginning of the evening. “Since we’re waiting around doing nothing…how about that make out session I was promised earlier?”
As if on cue, your phone started ringing. “Can’t, my mom’s calling me,” you said, reaching across the couch for your phone. You felt a little bad, sure, but he’d get his wish session eventually! 
“I hope she’s happy knowing she just cockblocked me,” Thomas grumbled. 
“Thomas!” you exclaimed as you answered the phone and put it on speaker.
“Ciao, cioccolatino,” you heard from the other end. Thomas’ grin was wide as you scrunched your nose at your childhood nickname. “How are you feeling about Sanremo so far?”
“Y/N’s very pleased with Tananai,” Thomas answered. He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with his bandmate right now, despite your eagerness to share your opinions with someone other than him tonight. “Realistically, I think Men—”
You shushed Thomas loudly, as if him finishing his sentence would curse the results. “Tananai has a chance, shut up. How about you?”
“Oh! Thomas is there too! How wonderful! You know, I was just thinking—"
“Mom, not the time.”
“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. I’m surprised none of the women made it, I think that’s unfair. Mr Rain was definitely not better than Elodie.”
“Exactly!” you said. “The kids carried his whole performance! If anything, they should win the entire thing.”
You looked at Thomas, whose patience seemed to be wearing thin. 
“Amore,” he whined, just quiet enough that your mother probably wouldn’t be able to hear. “We were busy.” He wasn’t usually like this, but months away on tour does something to a person. Ever since he got back from the North American leg of the tour, he’d been far more touch starved than usual. You understood, of course. 
You covered the microphone to make sure she wouldn’t hear. “When my mom hangs up, I promise.”
He sighed, knowing he had no choice but to oblige. Voting hadn’t closed yet, so the chance of Sanremo results getting prioritized over him again were slim. Or rather, he hoped they were slim. You engaged in idle chitchat with your mom, knowing she’d likely start pressing for details if you tried cutting her off abruptly. Thomas was zoned out and tracing shapes idly on your thigh, as he did when he got bored. You’d joked that if you got his invisible doodles tattooed on you your thighs would be covered in the Lucky Charms marshmallow shapes. He didn’t get the reference.  
“Anyway, I should go, this wine glass isn’t going to refill itself. Call me tomorrow morning, cioccolatino. Have fun!”
“Bye,” the two of you chorused. As soon as you hit the end call button, Thomas took your phone and tossed it to the other couch, far out of reach for either of you. He gave you a look, the silent ask for consent, and you barely got out one nod by the time his lips were on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands made its way to your waist, pulling you in closer.
The other hand, the one on your thigh, had since stopped tracing shapes and moved up ever so slightly higher. And higher. And a little bit more—
If it hadn’t been for the Sanremo theme blaring out of the TV speakers to signal the end of the ad break, the two of you could’ve easily forgotten all about the ongoing festival. This time, it was Thomas who pulled away quickly—much to your dismay. You glared at his smug demeanour as he moved his hand away from your thigh and up to his face to brush a stray strand of hair.
“Dude. Not cool.”
“My tongue was just down your throat and you’re calling me dude?”
“What do you want me to say!” you defended. “I admit, I was mean for depriving you of kisses for a prolonged period. But at least I didn’t fucking edge you when I did it!”
“Schatje, I promise you that wasn’t even close to me edging you. I’d be glad to show you after, but I think you want to see who wins Sanremo first,” he said, helping you turn around to face the TV screen once more tonight. Hopefully it would be the last.
As the hosts built up anticipation on screen, you squeezed Thomas’s hand tightly. So tightly, in fact, he had to pull away to avoid an actual injury. “Amo, I’m stressed,” you said. 
“I can tell,” he replied. “It’ll be fine. At the end of the day, it’s just a silly little song contest.”
You nodded in agreement. “You’re right. It is just a silly little song contest.”
“La quinta posizione…” the hosts announced. You muttered Ultimo’s name under your breath, as if to manifest it. “Tananai!”
“WHAT?” you yelled. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. Non è vero. Non è possibile. Chi cazzo ha votato per Ultimo?”
“Well, this sucks,” Thomas said. “If it helps, I think he should’ve won.”
You laughed in disbelief, watching as Lazza and Marco stood on the stage and waited to find out who won. “I maxed out my votes, I maxed out your votes…hell, I begged your fans to vote for him too. How the fuck did Tananai not win?”
It took Thomas squeezing your hand to bring you out of your misery. “Y/N. Silly little song contest, remember? Besides, Eurovision is in Liverpool of all places, I think there are cooler places for Tananai to perform.”
You sighed dramatically, leaning against Thomas until you both sunk into the sofa. “I’m inconsolable, Thomas. I need a kiss.”
He quickly obliged. “I need to be anywhere but this living room right now. Bedroom?”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” you said. “Sanremo is exhausting.”
You stood up and Thomas followed suit. He took your hand and led you towards your shared bedroom—dishes in the kitchen long forgotten. “I take it you’re too tired for an afterparty, then?” he asked, the smallest smirk evident on his face. 
“Me? Never.”
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tempobrucera · 2 months
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And being 12 pages in, whoops.
Writing weekend, the second 🤞😊
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tempobrucera · 2 months
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I'll kiss you again
Pairing: Thomas x Reader Summary: Finding a box of old love notes in a second hand store, can't do that much harm, right? Reading them together with your crush on Valentine's is a good idea after all, right? Word Count: 5k Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst. Listen, they're idiots. One mention of porn as a joke and another mention of sex if you squint (that scene does exist in my head tho - but good otherwise this would be another 4k and no one has time for that). Otherwise just fluff and sfw.
Please reblog, if you liked it <3
Based on this prompt. Thanks for the prompt @l0standn0tf0und. Thanks to @maneskinbrainrot who let's me bubble about Thomas' shirt collection every other day and thanks to @writingmaneskin <3
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"You found something?" Thomas bumps his hips slowly into yours and eyes the box in your hand curiously.
"I think so.", you say. You aren't quite sure why one unspectacular box captured all your attention since you saw it. It's golden and has a bee in a ring of flowers painted on the lid. "You?"
He looks back to the box in your hands before he almost slams the shirt he's carrying with him directly into your face: "Yeah. Look, we match, even when you just have a boring empty box."
It's a golden shimmer with flowers on the shoulder on the right side, the left side is black and has tiny golden bees all over. Some would call it hideous, tacky or just plain terrible - you know he'll look great in it and looking at his face, you know that he loves it already and that you can't wait to actually see him probably wearing it to death.
"Really you!", you tell him. Then you lift the box up to his ear and shake it slightly. "But here's where you're wrong!"
"Oh, it's not empty?" Now he looks at it more interested than before. "What's in it?"
You show him the tiny pieces of clear tape keeping it shut: "Guess, we have to buy it, to find out."
When you both stand at the till of the tiny second hand shop Thomas took you to, he takes the box out of your hand and puts it on top of his shirt. "I'll pay!", he looks at the woman scanning both items instead of you. He knows how much you hate this. Even when you sometimes joke that he could just pay everything you want and you could do nothing more than his laundry in exchange because you know how much he hates it. Deep down you hate him paying for you, it's not why you spend time with him. You really don't want him to think that's the reason either.
"Oh, this is your Valentines present?", the woman looks adoringly at both of you, "Cute! Please let me know where I can get a boy like that, I sure could do with one."
"What?" Thomas looks at her confused, slightly terrified - red blush creeping up his neck. You can only look at her with wide eyes before Thomas repeats himself. "What?"
"I'm so sorry.", she tells him, "I thought ... God, this is awkward, I'm really sorry. It's just ... Look."
She flips the box around to show both of you what she means. There's a sticker on the base. OLD LOVE NOTES. That's what's written on it.
"Oh."
"That's why I thought ...", she looks at him. You still aren't saying anything. "We were wondering who would finally buy it, it has been here for a while, you know ... and you both ... I just ... I thought ... Actually, nevermind."
"It's ok.", he smiles at her, "You still want it?"
You don't look at him but you slightly nod your head. She apologises again when he pays and another time when you all say your Goodbye's.
As soon as you're outside the door, he breaks out in laughter: "That poor girl."
"Sorry", you say quietly, "I didn't see that stupid sticker."
"Hey. It's no big deal, really. We will just laugh about it, 'kay?", he stops laughing. When he's closer to you, he brushes a strand of your hair that fell into your face behind your ear. You look over his shoulder and see the girl from the store smiling at you, then she just disappears inside again. "You want to read them together? Have dinner tomorrow, or something?"
"Sure, why not." Only after you said it, you realise what day tomorrow is. "Wait, do you not have better plans for tomorrow? Like seeing your girlfriend or something?"
"Gianna and I called it off weeks ago", finally he takes his hand from your face, "I'm sure that I told you."
He did, you still have the conversation in the back of your mind.
"I just realised that it's not going to work.", he lets the wine swirl in his glass, "It's better this way before I really hurt even more people."
"You can just say no.", Thomas' voice brings you back to now and then, "I can sulk in my misery alone."
"Nah, lets sulk together." Now it's on you to laugh and he gives you a thumbs up. "You paid for them, you deserve to read them as much as me."
"Cool. I'll bring the wine."
"Which leaves me to cook, of course.", you try to mock him but you can't go through with it any further when he looks at you again.
.###.
The next morning, you ask yourself if it wasn't stupid to say yes. You realise that you'll have no time to cook either. And you're close to just cancel your plans with Thomas, he would understand - he always does.
I just bought wine for tonight. Looking forward to later <3
After you read Thomas' text, you feel like you can't cancel anymore. If you would be honest with yourself, you also don't really want to cancel anyways. It's just nerves. It's just Thomas, you tell your stupid brain, everything will be fine. It always is with him.
In the end you settle on ordering food that you'll pick up from the restaurant after all your responsibilities are done with. Lasagna, it's what you would have cooked anyways. It's Thomas favourite in the whole city, he himself told you so on one of your first adventures together after you met him by accident. Some tiramisu, pistachio gelato and some chocolate-hazelnut soufflé from the same place. And some Spirito Natalizio gelato, you still have leftover from Christmas. You remember Thomas staying over after drinking too much, sleeping on your couch, one night between Christmas and New Year's. How he was leaning against your kitchen cabinets just in his shirt and his boxers, spoon in his mouth. How he told you, he's pretty sure he ended up in heaven and how he got a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth as well. You didn't touch the second tub you had of it since then, it's still closed in the back of your freezer because the taste of panettone and dried fruit would bring you back to that morning in your kitchen. Gelato on your nose and Thomas laughing so hard that he has to hold his stomach.
.###.
To your surprise Thomas is on time, actually he's at your place 20 minutes earlier. He wears the shirt with the tiny golden bees on it - and looks as good in it as you imagined it. His hair slightly tousled, like you love it on him.
"I thought I would match your box for tonight.", he says, then he kisses you on your forehead. Instead of kissing your cheek like he normally does when he greets you.
You follow him into your kitchen and watch how he puts bottle after bottle of wine onto the kitchen counter.
"God Thomas, do you want to get alcohol poisoning.", you ask him starring at the the six bottles of white wine and the two bottles of Aperol.
"I would like to get drunk out of my mind.", he admits. Normally there would be a joking tone in his voice but you can't hear it now.
"Sure, I'm just not drinking myself into a coma with you.", you tell him when you turn the oven on, "I'm back in a minute."
When you come back, there are two glasses of wine on the counter already. You can see him inspecting one of the take away boxes you pulled out of the fridge earlier.
"I love that tiramisù.", he licks his lips, "They make it with espresso martini."
"I got some gelato and some chocolate soufflé as well.", Thomas turns around to look at you. "And I got some lasagne. Sorry, I didn't have time to cook."
"Good that I didn't eat much today.", he laughs and looks back at the boxes, "I'll pay you back for it."
"No, you don't. Not this time, you'll eat it and you'll say thank you and that's it. Food was my responsibility, I could have spend less if I would have wanted to.", you tell him before he has to chance to speak up again.
"Thank you!"
He says thank you again after you finish your food. The lasagne, some tiramisu and some gelato. Two and a half glasses of wine for each of you already. Instead of in the living room, you ate sitting on your window sill in the kitchen. The best view of the city in your whole flat. During summer you would see the sun set during this time, today it's already dark but the city is glimmering in lights.
"You want to open the box?", Thomas asks. Wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other. He offers the cigarette to you and takes another sip of his wine when you take it out of his hand, slightly brushing his fingers.
"Sure, I'll get it quickly and we can go to the couch.", you answer, giving the cigarette back to him.
"Take your time."
.###.
"No, you didn't.", you almost drop the box of notes to the floor. "Thomas, please tell me you did not."
He looks at the wooden floor boards, hand behind his neck scratching it awkwardly: "I would have gotten it when you moved flats already and Vic finally couldn't stop me to do it and it'll probably die with me but when you don't want it but I'll take it back with me when I leave later, you really don't have to keep it and I won't be annoyed or anything about it I'll just -"
"Stop talking so fast, maybe?"
"Right.", he says more quietly. "It just felt inappropiate to show up without anything."
You look at the tiny oleander tree standing in the middle of the room again and try to ignore the clear bag of Venchi chocolates on your desk, especially the chocolate hearts scattered inbetween your favourites. You want to kiss him but you also want to slap him in the face. He shouldn't be allowed to do this to you.
"You'll not take it back.", you tell him, "How did you get it inside anyways? It clearly doesn't fit in your bag?"
"Left it outside and just got it inside when you didn't look?" Thomas smiles at you, biting his lip slightly.
"Thank you.", you kiss him on the cheek. "It stays by the way."
.###.
You both sit down on the couch, box on the table next to the bag of chocolates. Even when you really want to cuddle up, you stay on your side of the couch. Inappropiate, you think. He shouldn't be there on your couch. He shouldn't have brought a tree into your home that you'll have to look at every day from now. He shouldn't sink further into your sofa cushions, sighing. He shouldn't look at you when he bites into one of the chocolate hearts. And your heart shouldn't do these stupid cartwheels watching him. Inappropiate.
"Do I have something on my face?", he asks and just now you notice that he stares back.
"No, no, all good."
"'kay.", he takes another bite and continues mouth full, "Come here, I don't bite."
You do get closer to him after that, not as close as you would under any other circumstances but Thomas isn't having it. He grabs the box from the table and when he sinks even deeper into the cushions, he pulls you closer. You can see how he puts his feet onto your table before the last bit of chocolate appears into your view.
"So much for you don't bite.", you chuckle a little bit but shake your head.
"I don't bite people, I only bite chocolate hearts."
You groan, a little bit frustrated. You really don't need the image of Thomas biting someone in your head.
"I don't want the rest of your nibbled on chocolate.", you say, "Stop eating them, these are mine."
"Who said these are for you?", he jokes back.
"Those came with my tree. My tree, my chocolates." You feel yourself relax more and more and melt into his side easier than before.
"No hearts for me anymore," he raises his hands defeated, "got it. I probably don't deserve any anyways. Hey .... You know that you can - You can lay your head in my lap if you want to."
You didn't notice that your head isn't on his shoulder anymore. It's more somewhere between his ribcage and his stomach. He carefully starts pulling the tape from the box while you get comfortable and put your head into his lap.
"I doubt I'll get this sense of happiness from anyone else. I've never experienced anything close to it before. Thank you.", he reads the first one, then comments, "Cute."
He drops the second one on your face for you to read: "I miss you already, I wish you could stay here with me."
"Oh my ... Please, why are people writing this down.", he giggles looking at the new note he picked. He clears his throat and tries to sound as posh as he can, "You're all I think about these days ..."
He interrupts himself by giggling again. So far it's not too bad, you think.
"All I think about is how your face looks when you're close. Oh god ... God. Why do I have to read this? Your pretty little cock. Please."
You laugh so loud that Thomas squirms under you a little bit: "Well, at least we know now that they were into each other."
"Didn't the sticker say it's a box of love notes, I didn't see anything about porn. I can't read the rest of this, sorry."
You have a look on the really long note and after two more sentences, you agree with him. Maybe this should stay between the people involved in this love affair. And not between you and Thomas, who is blushing profusely.
"Moving on.", you say and put the other note to the read ones, "Leonora. I hate this situation and I know that I brought this onto myself but things don't feel right. I want my best friend back, I know that I haven't lost you and I'll do whatever it takes to get your trust back. I am very proud to be your friend, I want this back. I'll never forget the first night I kissed you. Raffael."
"Ouch!" Thomas wraps one of his arms around your waist, "You think they managed to go back to being friends?"
"If he was honest in his note, I want to believe that they managed. That they are still part of each others lives." You really want to believe that they made it back to being friends after this.
"I hope so.", he grabs another note, "Looking at us now, I still can't believe we ended up together. We only started dating such a long time after meeting each other for the first time and I don't know what I did to deserve someone who's as great as you."
You shiver slightly when Thomas moves his fingertips over your arm. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and puts it around your shoulders. It's the red fluffy blanket he showed up with in front of your door at your old place. The week that your heating broke down in the middle of winter and you almost cried on the phone because you were cold and frustrated with the little Italian you spoke and not understanding what people wanted from you. Thomas just showed up, wrapped you into a blanket, made you a cup of tea and then tried to translate stupid things from your tenant agreement, in the end with the help of his mum and Damiano because he also didn't had a clue what's going on or what anything means. Now you aren't shivering because you're cold - you're shivering because you ask yourself if that note can become true for you as well.
He hands you another note, written on a crumbled sticky note shaped like a star: "P.S. Thom, I really wanted to kiss you."
Thomas looks at you confused for a second, then grabs the note from your hand and reads it himself, his eyes going a little bit wider.
"P.S. Mattia, I really wanted to kiss you."
"Yes.", you laugh, "That's what I just read to you."
"Mhm." Thomas isn't saying more than that, just looks at you and still holds on to the paper when he gets a new one out of the box. "Don't stress it, if he doesn't want you it's not love. If he does, see how it goes, it'll end right even when it's not what you want it to be."
"Good advice.", you mumble into his shirt.
"You think so?" Thomas rearranges the blanket over your shoulders, "Even if you would really want it?"
"I guess?", you start playing with the hem of his shirt, "You can't really change it anyways, right? Maybe some things just don't happen for a reason, maybe it's just what it's supposed to be? Maybe people shouldn't worry about what didn't happen?"
"But maybe it's not?", he plays with both notes in hands. "What if something just went wrong somewhere? If it was supposed to be but something messed it up? When the other person just doesn't get a hint even when they really should? When someone is waiting, nothing happens but it did already? Aren't these lost chances?"
"Thomas," you take the notes out of his hand, "how much wine did you have?"
"Fi- six glasses?", he takes the notes back, "I mean ... Even when you would know that both people want the same but are for whatever reason just too stupid to get it right, would you still think the same?"
"Maybe they're not supposed to get it?"
"But ...", he sounds frustrated.
"Maybe they should just say something, instead of waiting for their hints to be understood." You are a liar, you tell yourself. You know, that you could have said something by now but you didn't and you won't do it now either. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Do you think it was a note someone wrote to themselves?"
"Oh, I didn't think about that." You poke one of the bees on his shirt until he smiles at you again and you move on to poke the next and the next one until he starts laughing and then asks you to have mercy on him. "Give me the next note, please."
"Here.", he holds the whole box in front of you.
"I love how your hand fits in mine."
"Do people really say that?", he asks looking at you. "Like for real?"
"Guess so?", you take his hand in yours, "Look, your hand is ... It's really big, you know."
He puts his hand up, so you can press your hand against his after you sit up a little bit: "No, other hands like yours are just tiny."
"Sure," you roll your eyes at him, "but they still fit together really well, see."
"Yeah, I think, I got it." Thomas laces your fingers with yours and before he can pull his hand back from the gentle embrace, you lay your head back into his lap. Hand still in yours, pulling his arm around your waist - he doesn't complain.
"I hope you still think of me when you see the snow. I'm sorry, I couldn't love you right.", he reads another one, "Why do I get all the sad ones?"
"What do you think happened to them? Do you think it ever reached the person it was for?" He really does get the sad ones.
"Maybe? Maybe it didn't -", he stops - stroking his thumb over your hand, "Maybe they got it but they just forgot what the snow was about."
"Thomas," you squeeze his hand in yours, "you just made it sadder, not better."
You read a few more notes to each other. Him still getting the ones that are sadder than the ones, you pick for yourself.
"What was your favourite one?", you ask looking up at him.
"This one." He shows you the now even more crumbled paper between his fingers. "P.S. Mattia, I really wanted to kiss you."
"Why this one?" You take the note from him. You liked it but it didn't stick out to you, except for Thomas taking it and not letting go off it after you read it.
"It's mine now, that's why."
"What are you on about?" He smiles when you look up at him confused - you don't get where he's going with this. Thomas moves you in his lap and then leans down until his breath tickles against your skin. Brushing his lips over your temple, leaving a kiss there. Another kiss right next to your ear. Leaving one right on the corner of your mouth.
"Thom," he stops moving, "Thomas, please. Please stop kissing me as a joke."
You can't take it anymore. All the times he kissed you, teeth clinking together, when he lost a bet. Damiano and Vic cheering in the background while Ethan just rolled his eyes. All the times, he drunkenly asked for a kiss on his cheeks. How your lips landed on his every single time because he moved his face. How you never learned your lesson. All the times, he kissed you right under your ear on a night out, whispering into your ear that it's just fun. All these kisses between girlfriends, tours and press, and your boyfriends that came and went. You really can't take him kissing you as a joke anymore.
He presses one last kiss onto your closed lips before he gets some space between the both of you again.
"With all due respect to Mattia, it's my note now because you used my name when you read it to me."
"What do you mean?", you can hear yourself stutter, "I didn't, I didn't do that?"
"You said Thom when you read it, I heard it." You would like to disagree but you know that he probably heard correctly and his name just slipped past your lips. "Do you really think I buy all my friends a fucking tree and carry it around the city making a fool of myself on Valentine's? You can't really think that."
You didn't think that but you also didn't think anything more about it either: "I thought, you're just being nice?"
"I also didn't kiss you as a joke. I never meant it as one either." Thomas looks at you and you know that he means it. "I'm sorry that I did something for you to think that."
"You said, it's just fun?" This is where you know, what you heard and he can't tell you any other. "Multiple times."
"No ... I said It's just fun if that's what you want it to be or at least ... that's what I meant. But you didn't want that either, so I dropped it.", he explains. "Vic made it her job to make me kiss you every time I lost a bet with any of them after her girlfriend pointed out how you look at me and she cursed herself how stupid she was. I always wanted to kiss you when I did and I wanted to tell you, believe me. I tried when I told you that I broke up but you were so busy with your photo assignment from work that I gave up that day. I just went home and got drunk. I tried before as well but it never worked."
"Thomas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm such a big idiot. God, I'm that idiot who can't get a hint, right?" Now it's on you to brush one of his strands of his hair that fell into his face behind his ear. "What happened that night, you didn't talk to me for a few days afterwards."
"I don't know? I went to Gianna's to get something I left at hers but I ...", he stops talking - it doesn't matter - he's there with you now. You pull him closer to your body, "and the next morning I woke up crying into Bidet's fur and Damiano making breakfast he said I don't deserve. I was afraid I left some stupid drunk voice mails or something."
"I'm sorry." You know that you are repeating yourself, it doesn't change that he deserves to hear it. "Thanks for telling me now. You still want to kiss me?"
"Can I?" Thomas' voice is barely a whisper. He moves closer to your face. "You sure? I promise it's really not a joke."
"I know."
You pull him in closer by the collar of his shirt. He brushes his lips lightly over yours before he deepens the kiss, carefully licking over your lips. The box falls down to the ground - you'll take care of it tomorrow. You don't want to think about anything else then Thomas' lips on yours right now and for a bit longer.
.###.
When you wake up the next morning, you want to get closer to the body next to you. But when you open your eyes, you're hugging your pillow instead of Thomas. You could swear that you fell asleep with him in your arms hours earlier, maybe just too much wine and a vivid imagination. But your clothes are scattered around your bed in a way that screams desperation - not in the way you would undress yourself. You swallow and try to tell yourself that there's a normal explanation, one that isn't maybe it was only fun after all. But it's only 8:45, band practice never starts before 9:30 and Thomas will make it a challenge to only get up at 9:25 when he can help it. But Thomas' side of the bed is slightly cold and he's gone.
You get up and the box with notes making a mess in front of your couch also tell you, that you didn't make up last night. You're cleaning them up mindlessly - the note to Mattia missing. The oleander tree also didn't disappear, it still stands proudly in the middle of the room. Only the buzzing of your phone gets your attention.
15 missed calls
17 new messages
Missed calls from Thomas: 9
Missed calls from Vic: 4
Missed calls from Damiano: 1
Missed calls from Ethan: 1
And then you tap onto your messages.
Thomas
I'm really sorry, I'm a stupid idiot
sorry for not waking you up but it was so fucking early and I forget that we had a flight just before 8
I really should've mentioned that
I just wanted to make clear, that I didn't just piss off
The note I left was terrible, wasn't it?
It was Damiano approved tho, he helped. I should've known it's too much. I should kill him for telling me to actually get a pen and write it down.
I'm sorry.
You really don't have to say anything.
jus tell em that you don't hate me or if you do tell me that as well
Vic
Could you just text him, please.
He's going literally bananas and Ethan will probably lose it soon.
He didn't even sleep on the plane like he normally does, he just chewed on his nails.
He already threatened to kill Damiano.
He already called a fucking a taxi to get back to the airport and just fly back home. Ethan had to drag him out of it again because we can't play a show without him.
I just noticed that you probably are still asleep. I forgot the time difference, he's driving everyone that insane. How the fuck did you fall for him?
Oh and please tell me if the note is really as cringy as he thinks it is. I need the gossip. Damiano told me it's private and he's not sharing lmao. Bitch please, I'll find out one way or another anyways.
Ethan
Please text Thomas before I strangle him. No offense - xo
Even after reading them in the right order, you're still confused. What note is he talking about? You're making yourself a coffee before you take it back to bed to answer their texts. You fluff up your pillow when a receipt falls out of the fabric. You laugh at Thomas' being a mess but the same urge that told you, to hold on to that box, tells you to look at it.
It's the receipt for the oleander tree. On the back however is something written in tiny block letters, you know that it's Thomas' writing. You know it from birthday cards and from footnotes he leaves between his sheet music if he doesn't have it on his phone.
"I'm glad that I kissed you. As I was before when I couldn't say anything. I'm glad that I kissed you, even when it gives me a new addiction. Even when it'll ruin every kiss from now for me and it'll take me a lifetime to forget. Even if it will leave me bruised. I would do it again, I'm glad that I kissed you. As I was all the times before without you knowing. I'll kiss you again."
You settle down back into your pillows with your coffee, you start typing but everything ends up deleted and you decide to call him instead.
Before he can say anything you scrape together all your courage: "I love you."
"I ...", he starts - you can hear Damiano in the background. "Lucky me. I love you too."
You can hear Victoria cheering in the background, how Ethan is trying to shush her, the loud bastardo following.
"I'm glad that you want to kiss me again."
"I will. I will, I promise."
You put the note into the box, on top of all the other ones. Wondering if some day, someone will buy a box of old notes, finding Thomas' note to you and if they will make up a story why it was written, just as you did the night before. Maybe the sad notes haven't been as sad as Thomas wanted to read them, maybe they had the or another happy end right around the corner as well.
.###.
The love notes were inspired by this Vice article and this tumblr post. I want to make it really clear that especially the last one was written completely by myself though. This panettone ice cream does exist and is a Christmas special you get during Christmas, so does Venchi the chocolate shop.
Shitty gif which I was too lazy to scale to an appropiate size? Also mine.
Taglist:
@writingmaneskin, @iamtashaquinn, @teatrodellavita, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @its-afucking-mess, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @cheese-toastie-11, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso
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tempobrucera · 2 months
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Writing weekend, the second 🤞😊
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