A/N: 18+
"C'mere, darlin'," the silkily rasped order seeped into my ears and my brain then headed south immediately, raising the level of the ambient ache between my legs exponentially until they began to tremble uncontrollably with it.
He was standing there in the middle of his bedroom, looking about as casual as I'd ever seen him in that light gray sweater that clung to his muscles in a way that had me wanting to melt against him and it, savoring the downy soft, luxurious material and the way it molded to his unyielding hardness.
And those obscenely tight black jeans weren't too bad, either.
But I was fresh from the shower, my hair still damp, wanting - expecting, actually - nothing more than to cross the room to where I had carefully piled my clothes - in the middle of the night last night while he slept - and get dressed, quickly. Frankly, I had planned to leave him there sleeping in favor of scuttling away to the safety of my flat and I was feeling entirely too vulnerable with him fully clothed and me fully naked, his eyes raking over me slowly, taking in every flaw, I was sure.
Last night had been our first night together, and this morning I had snuck into the shower before he awoke - I thought. He'd certainly seemed dead to the world, or I would never have spent so long at the end of the bed, lost in the stunning sight of him in his glory, at the complete - and completely intimidating - perfection that was him while he slept, the white sheet slashing low across his calves but otherwise gloriously, perfectly nude, barely able to process the fact that we'd actually been . . . together last night, my cream beginning to flow again at the mere thought.
But there he stood when I opened the bathroom door, all six foot two impossible tall inches of him, not really thinking I had needed to bother with a towel for the short trip across the bedroom.
Big mistake.
He had taken a step towards me as soon as he'd seen me and I'd been entirely unable to control my instinctive step back. The surprised look on his face had him relaxing almost imperceptibly and I could actually see him tamping down the unmistakably hungry look that had been in his eyes when they'd first met mine. A gentle smile settled over those full lips of his as he clasped his hands loosely in front of him.
I couldn't find any trace of mockery in his voice or his face at his quiet command, and he looked as if he was prepared to spend as long as was necessary in that purely alpha stance of his waiting for me to comply, although given what we had talked about last night, I doubted that keeping him waiting much longer would allow me to avoid certain . . . consequences.
Unable to help myself, I fidgeted, somehow unable to look away from him, but twisting my fingers and shuffling my feet a bit, wishing desperately that I'd kept a towel on my hair - at least - that I could have used in this pinch to hide myself from the intensity of his gaze, although his eyes weren't roaming in the least any longer. They were locked with mine, as if he was willing me to obey him.
Not having made any move to comply, I watched as he tilted his head a bit, lowering his chin and giving me a sidelong glance with the barest hint of a smile still on his face, as if to ask why I would ever feel the need to hesitate to come to him.
It was Tom Hiddleston giving me that look, and it was, of course, devastatingly effective, practically making me cum while I stood there like a dolt, mortifyingly close to drooling onto the floor.
The moment I finally convinced myself to take the first step towards him, his hand came out invitingly, palm up, and I couldn't imagine not responding to the irresistible invitation to tuck my hand into his, already knowing just how much I adored the fact that his was so big that it swallowed mine up, making me feel cosseted and protected in my own greedy mind, even though I knew that I had no right to expect either of those courtesies from him.
Despite how much I wanted to be taken in those arms and held wonderfully tightly to him, as I already knew he would, I couldn't abandon my insecurities enough to do what I might have done if we were an actual couple and certain beyond a shadow of a doubt of my reception - I didn't run and jump into his arms or fling myself against him in wild abandon.
Instead I took slow, measured steps towards him, biting my lip almost clean through on the way and watching both the hand that never waivered and eyes that were so blue they were almost painful to look at. His smile widened as soon as I began to obey him, though, and each step became easier to take until our fingertips touched and his warm ones curled immediately around my nervously frozen ones.
He didn't use the contact to tug me to him, but let - made? - me take those last few steps until his arms closed around me as he folded my hand behind me to the small of my back, leaning his head down to brush his lips against my temple. "About damned time you sashayed your beautiful ass over here," he growled. "Normally I'm not going to be nearly that patient with you, Tasha, but you looked as if you would rather have run out into the street naked than come close to me. Am I that frightening?" He arched away from me a bit, brushing the hair out of my face gently and looking as if he cared greatly about my answer.
I knew he expected my response to be a resounding "No!", but the truth was that I was in awe of him and that he intimidated me to no end just by his mere existence.
When I didn't answer him immediately, he caught my chin in his hand so that I had no choice but to meet his puzzled eyes. "Did I hurt you last night? I know it had been a while for you and I was trying to be gentle -"
That was the last thing I wanted him to worry about. "No, just the opposite. I thought I was going to die every time you made me . . . " Damn, I hated the fact that I blushed at the drop of a hat. I was no prude and this was hardly my first rodeo.
No, it was him. I had never been like this with any man - like some giggling schoolgirl with her first crush. It was damned embarrassing at my age and annoyingly exciting at the same time.
"Then what, baby?" he crooned and my nipples tightened as if his fingers rather than that sexy voice of his had flowed over them.
Trying to hide my blush from him as best I could, I looked down, staring at what I thought was the telltale bump of a distended nipple under the sweater.
Tom kissed my forehead gently but remained quiet.
I shrugged. "It's just . . . how new this is, I guess. I really - really, really, really - never expected to end up - "
"Writhing beneath me as wildly as you did?" he supplied cheekily. "Cumming so hard around me that you sent me to hurtling into Paradise just by the way your tight little quim grabbed a hold of me and milked me until I thought I was going to pass out -"
"Tom!" I dropped my forehead onto his chest.
His trademark "Ehe he he" at my embarrassment had me smiling, too. I was finding that it was damned near impossible not to be happy around him.
The hand that had been cupping my head or rubbing my back suddenly captured the hand where I had bunched up a fold of his sweater where it lay over his the prominent muscles of his shoulder and brought it behind me to hold it fast with my other wrist, sending his free hand lower, cupping my behind and squeezing, deliberately placing his big hand over the center of my bottom and giving me a very hard swat, which had me arching away and against the rock hard ridge of his jean covered erection.
His hand held me there, the evidence of his desire buried eagerly into my belly.
"I want you," he drawled huskily. "I woke up this way, thinking about you and what I wanted to do to you."
That big hand came up to hold my head as he kissed me deeply, taking what he wanted from me and leaving me disheveled and throbbing and swollen in his wake as he released my wrists and twisted the both of us quickly - but with scrupulous care - so that I ended up on my back on the bed beneath him, legs gathered up over his elbows, leaving my most delicate bits entirely unprotected and vulnerable to him - a female helplessly subject to the passions of the man who had the strength and will and desire to claim her in the way he knew she needed to be taken - whether or not she liked to admit it to herself.
I didn't even hear or feel him arranging himself, but seconds later one sharp thrust of his hips and a gasp was torn from my throat as he invaded me, not at all used to his size, or the way being filled and stretched like this as he began jackhammering his hips reached that perfect spot within me with every almost violent plunge as no one else ever had.
In contrast to how hard he was fucking me, his lips pressed delicate, tender kisses all over my face, working his way slowly to my lips and kissing me so thoroughly and soul deep that it practically sent me over the edge in and of itself.
Eventually, though, he sat up on his knees, chuckling evilly when I grabbed after him but caught nothing but air, pressing a leg back with a hand behind each knee, forcing me open for him so that he could - after catching my eyes - slowly slide himself into me again, and it was just as mind blowing as always, maybe more so when he was so deliberate, so dominant about it, seating himself into me to the hilt, leaning forward a bit to make sure that I was completely full of him and mewling from the stark reality of it.
"Hold your legs open for me, little one."
I knew there was no room for disobedience, reaching down to take over the embarrassing way he had been positioning me for his possession. As soon as his hands were free, one went to my nipple and began to tug it away from my body and roll it, pinching it hard between the sides of his index finger and his thumb while the thumb of his other hand, after dipping into my gushing honey pot between strokes, brought that liquid treasure up to slather it onto my clit.
On that first touch to flesh that was on fire for him, aching abominably, I couldn't help but cry out, earning a slash of a feral smile across that beautiful face as he began to mercilessly manipulate that not so little any more fleshy bud while he resumed an alternating rhythm of long, powerful strokes during which he left my body completely only to drive himself back in - to the hilt - with one tremendous stroke, or, instead, pistoned himself relentlessly into me.
Between the helpless whimpers and guttural moans he tore from my throat by hitting almost every single hot spot I owned all at once, I began to murmur helplessly, just shy of begging him.
"Mmmm . . . ahhhh . . . T-Tommmmmmmm . . . unnnnnn . . . puh-pllleeaassee!"
He could be cruel at times, I was finding. "Please what, Tasha?"
The only satisfaction I could cobble together at that point was the fact that I wasn't the only one who was panting heavily.
"Cum . . . Please . . Make me cum!" I practically screamed the last bit at him.
In answer, the bastard slowed the way his thumb was slip-sliding over me but continued to drill himself into me.
"You may cum, my sweet, but in my time and my way."
In other words, he refused to quicken the languid pace with which he was torturing - flicking - me.
I was very close, but his pace was so slow that the build up had me frantic, mindless with the heart stopping ache he was creating, dragging out that past-the-point-of-no-return build up, that curling at the base of my spine, the tingling that usually lasted only seconds drawn out and forced to extent until I couldn't tense my lower body any more and the next one . . . two . . . three strokes - of him within me and that thumb over me - sent me reeling into oblivion, screaming his name like a prayer and a curse at the same time as he bent over me, bracketing my face in those big hands as he fucked me in a rawly, animalistically, his teeth bared, eyes wide and unseeing as he followed the pure dictates of his body and simply took me.
Despite the fact that I was still completely dazed by what he'd done to me, I couldn't look away from the primitive visage that arched above me, his face even more beautiful in the rictus of his release.
He collapsed on top of me, face buried in the pillow to one side of me, moaning hoarsely in my ear with every ragged, rapid breath.
Operating purely on instinct, I did what I wanted to do - indulging myself, knowing this could very well - and was in all likelihood - my only chance to be with him, so I let my fingers delve into his hair, finding something soothing in the soft curls as they wound around me, gliding down over his neck and letting my hand learn the broad expanse of his shoulders, the clearly defined muscles of his back, the ridge of his spine and down to the curve of that amazing tight butt of his.
As I squeezed one cheek gently, appreciatively, he groaned.
"Give me a minute to recover, darling. I'm half dead here."
I couldn't suppress a small bit of pride that what we'd done together had reduced him - him - to that. "I wasn't trying to start anything. I just wanted to touch you," I whispered, as if confessing something terrible.
"Mmmmmmm. Then by all means, continue."
I took him at his word, stroking both hands over him as if I had every right to, trying to memorize the feel of him beneath my fingertips for when I inevitably didn't have access to him in this way any more
"Damn, that feels wonderful," he sighed.
He slowly lifted himself up, not off me, so that he could look down into my eyes. "You are amazing and I refuse to let you go until I absolutely have to, which is Monday morning. Consider yourself kidnapped."
Doing my best to let go of the reservations that flooded my mind at his . . . not suggestion . . . I forced myself to smile up at him, saying shyly, "Yes, Sir," and getting an unholy grin as my reward for bravery in the face of Tom Hiddleston.