For Arely

For one of my tumblr-friends, I felt inspired and wanted to do something nice for her after all the shitty anons she’s had to deal with, and for all the time and energy she puts into her sideblog. Tom takes care of her after a hard day.

Fandom: N/A | Characters: Tom Hiddleston | Written: May 4. 2016


It's been a long day. It's been a long week. Hell, it's been a bloody long month. Work has been nothing but shit lately, everyone seems to be after your head. Everything is a mess at home, you haven't cleaned in what feels like ages, haven't had a free moment to take some time to yourself. Your family has been on your case, and you just can't say no to any of them.

But today... Today, you just need everything to slow down, before you hit that brick wall.

It's only when you park your car at home that you remember, and you hit your head on the steering wheel, causing the horn to let out a long loud wail, but in your state, you don't even bat an eyelash. Tom had arranged for a meeting at your house that evening, about an upcoming movie, and you had promised to clean, set everything up and cook.

On the brink of tears, ignoring the rumbling of your starved stomach, you raise your head, grit your teeth and turn the ignition on again to get to the store, only to be startled half to death by a knock on the window. Snapping your head around, you see Tom there, in nothing but sweats and a very well-worn Thor t-shirt. You roll down the window.

"Hello, baby," he greets you, smiling that smile that always sets your heart racing.

For Arely

"Hey. Sorry, I completely forgot about tonight," you say weakly. "I'm just about to head out again, to get everything." You move to roll the window back up, but he reaches inside and stills your hand.

"No need, the meeting's done. Come on inside, got a surprise for you." There's a mischievous glint in his eyes that you're not sure you like at the moment. But you've never been able to say no to him, so you take your keys and step outside.

Tom sweeps you into his arms, places a quick kiss on your lips and then tuck you into the crook of his neck, just holding you for a long moment.

"Thomas, what's going on?" you ask, your voice muffled against his t-shirt.

"I know you've been through a lot lately, and I shouldn't have asked you to help out with this meeting. I'm sorry." He spoke into your hair, one hand on the small of your back, the other winding through your hair. "This night is for you, and only you." His hands slip down to your thighs, and instinctively, you jump up and wrap your legs around his hips. With his hands securely – and just a tad too inappropriately placed for being out in public – on your thighs, he carries you inside, locking the door ominously behind you.

The smell hit you at once. You can't believe it. But you see it, when he puts you down in the kitchen, turning you to face the island. Your absolute favourite, and an abundance of it, in the middle of the counter. Two plates by the barstools, two glasses of wine, and a full bottle near the end of the counter. It's your favourite, and shit expensive, so you've only had it twice in your life.

You turn to Tom, seeing him grinning like an idiot, so proud of himself it's not even funny.

For Arely

"Help yourself," he says, gesturing for you to sit.

Your head goes back and forth between the British tease and the table of gluttony. No matter how much you wanted to stuff your face with what's on the counter, you launch yourself into Tom's arms, and tears of happiness, exhaustion and love for your wonderful husband fall freely.

"Oh, sweetie," he says, pulling you tight against him, rubbing his hands all over your back. Your stomach rumbles again, and he chuckles, the motion of his laughter soothing you as you rest your head against his chest.

"I love you, Thomas," you hiccup. "Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me yet. This is not all."

You lift your head and glance curiously up at him. With another grin, he winks down at you.

"Let's just eat for now," is all he says, gently herding you over to one of the stools. He puts his hands your waist, and lifts you up onto it, as if you were a feather. Then he turns you to face the feast. He pours wine into both your glasses and then fill your plate, before he jumps up next to you.

You eat in absolute silence, only broken by your occasional moan and Tom's trademark ehehehe.

When you've had all you can take, you lean back, sighing, pushing the plate away. "Did you make this, or did you have it delivered?" You glance sideways at him, gauging his reaction. The last time he had attempted to cook you your favourite meal, he nearly burned down the kitchen.

"Hey," he retorts. "I made this from scratch I'll have you know. I cooked and slaved all day."

You raise one disbelieving eyebrow. "And held an important meeting with your new co-stars?"

"I can multitask."

"Sure, sure," you tease. "Doesn't really matter though, because it was delicious anyway."

"Thank you, babe. Now. You go take a shower and I'll clean this up."

You lean over to steal a quick kiss, then hop down and make your way to the bathroom, Tom's hand swatting at your ass on the way.

Nearly an hour later, your red and wrinkly self make its way into your bedroom to find something comfortable to wear, only to find that the lights were off and the room littered with candles, a slow jazz in the background. Tom lay casually on the bed, a book in his hands.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He closes the book and tosses it onto the bed side table. He looks suggestively at the towel hanging loosely around your body, and you feel yourself blush. "Drop that towel, lay down on your stomach." His Loki-voice shines through, and you can't help but obey.

As the towel drops, you smirk at the look on his face. His eyes completely devour you, and follow your every move. With slow deliberate moves and a slight sway of your hips, you make your way over and climb onto the bed, laying down on what you only now notice – a beach towel. Your arms fold in front of you and you drop your head onto them, but facing Tom.

Clearing his throat, the daze in his eyes lifts. Saying nothing, he moves to straddle your thighs, and bends over you to pull out a bottle of massage oil from under your pillow. You hear him pop it open, letting out the wonderful smell. He rubs his hands in it, and then they land on your lower back. You can't help but moan.

Tom glides his hands all over your back, rubbing at all the sore spots. Sometimes you gasp in pain, other times you moan in pleasure. His gentle hands and long fingers leave no skin untouched. He hums along to the music, and you swear you are nothing but liquid by the time he climbs off you and lay down next to you.

Your eyes open lazily, seeing him stare lovingly at you, head propped up on one hand, the other tracing feather light circles on your back.

"I love you," he mutters.

For Arely

He leans towards you, pressing his lips to your forehead, your nose and then your lips. He lingers for a second or two, then moves to look into your eyes. The atmosphere changes. Your exhausted body have been energised and your mind is catching up on the fact that he has actually had his hands all over your naked body. You glance down, and see how tight his sweats have suddenly become.

When your eyes lift to meet his again, a fire comes to life in your stomach. The dark promise in his dark grey eyes tells you that you are in for a long night.

For Arely