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It’s been a day by the time you get back to your apartment, and you have no interest in hanging out with your already drunk girlfriends. They’ve been begging for the last half hour, texting non-stop as you finished your shift at the bookstore and walked home. To make it worse, they’re at the bar you live above, making it nearly impossible to avoid them as you walk through to get to your place. Still, you’re determined to have a quiet evening on your own, until your friends grab you five steps from the stairwell.
“One drink.” It’s a ploy to get the girls to shut up, and you wink at the bartender as he slides your usual beer across the bar. You’ll slide a tip under his door later, because you intend to duck out when you see an opening, and it’s not like you don’t know where he lives. There’s only one other apartment above the bar, and Chris is a pretty decent neighbor. You consider asking if he wants to grab dinner from the all-night Chinese place later, but your gaze falls on something else before you get the chance.
He looks incredibly uncomfortable, talking to a woman who’s clearly throwing herself at him, and you cannot believe that more women aren’t fawning all over him as you realize that it’s Tom Hiddleston. He’s probably in New York for interviews for his upcoming movie or something, but you can’t care as you turn to catch Chris’ eye to order another drink. You’ve just seen your chance to end your night, and help the poor guy in the process.
Drinks in hand, you weave over to where Tom is, holding the drink up so that he can see you behind the other woman. When he grins slightly, you slide around her, nudging him with your elbow. “The drink you ordered. And they’ll want you upstairs in five for the photo op.” He takes the drink, nodding as the other woman apologizes and goes to find her own friends.
“I suppose I should thank you.” His voice is low when he speaks, angling his body towards yours as you take a sip of your beer, trying not to smile. His voice is a deliciously gravely sotto voce, and you could swoon right there if you weren’t concentrating so hard on standing upright.
You watch him over the rim of your glass for a moment before you speak, that smirk still on your lips when you do. “You’re welcome. You didn’t look like you were having a particularly good time, and I was looking for an excuse to get out of here anyway. So I guess we’re both winners.” You want to ask what he’s doing here, and why he looked so utterly out of his element, but you’re too caught up in the watery blue of his eyes.
“Ah, but see now you can leave, and I’ll still be stuck here. Waiting on my date.” He mutters the last part, eyes sweeping the room nervously before they fall back on you. You can see him sizing you up, your attire less fancy than the rest of the bar’s patrons, though he seems not to care. How anyone could keep this man waiting is beyond you. Just the way he runs his fingers through his hair as he waits for your response has you squeezing your legs together imperceptibly.
“Well, I can’t help you find your date. But, if you’re looking to hide out for a little while, there’s a private rooftop deck upstairs.” Eyebrows raised, you take another sip of your drink, tilting your head as you swallow and grin, tongue swiping your lower lip, teeth following with just the slightest amount of pressure. You can see him watching your mouth, almost tell him where your eyes are, but you like the idea of Tom fucking Hiddleston looking at you like that way too much.
He’s a bit taken with you, and, he realizes, maybe a bit tipsy as he feels himself crowding against you, his lips right next to your ear and his free hand resting on your waist. “Hiding out is exactly what I’m looking to do.” Tom hears your breath come up short when he touches you, and half of his mouth lifts in an almost wicked smirk, your chin dipping before you glance towards the stairs. He digs his fingers in a little harder when you hum in response, your fingers grazing his belly as you start towards that promised freedom.
Tom is hot on your heels by the time you get to the stairwell, your hand finding his behind you as you speed up the steps and through the door at the top marked PRIVATE . You have to pass your apartment, and you tell Tom to wait in the hall for a second as you duck inside, grabbing two bottles of beer from your fridge. Holding them up as you reappear, you nod towards the short flight of stairs a few feet away, encouraging him to follow you. He doesn’t even know your name yet, but the thought of finding out has him trailing behind you, finishing off the beer in his hand.
By the time you get the door open, fumbling with the keypad and the bottles in your hand, Tom is breathing down your neck. You damn well know if you leaned back just a little bit, you’d be able to feel his cock pressed against you. Instead, you push the door open and step out onto the expansive deck that you share with Chris. It’s one of the few perks of living above the noisy bar, with its overhanging string lights and cozy furniture. Tom whistles low when he catches sight of the view, and you wander over to where he’s standing, arm resting on the ledge. You mirror him as you hand him his beer, watching him for a moment before speaking again. “Why would you be hiding from your date?” Your voice is full of curiosity, eyes saucer large in the relative darkness.
“It’s a PR setup, and I’ve got no interest in playing nice with some giggly pop star tonight.” His eyebrows are raised almost in challenge as he takes a swig from his beer, shifting closer, his knee practically between your legs.
Cheeky bastard , you think, but you don’t move, transfixed by his eyes and proximity. You vaguely hear him say that he still doesn’t know your name, and you’re about to tell him when over his shoulder, you see the door open. Instinctively you curl your fingers into his shirt, your beer bottle lost, your other hand wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him into a kiss. It’s searing; your teeth in his lower lip, his tongue persistent against yours once he gains entrance. You really are straddling his thigh now as you realize you're incredibly wet, finding it hard to breathe as he pulls away just enough to whisper, “if we ignore her, maybe she’ll leave.”
“Tommy?” The other woman’s voice is high pitched, but she can only really see the outline of you two kissing, your hips grinding down on Tom’s leg, his large hand on your lower back, fingers spreading under your shirt, claiming more of your skin. You arch into him, moaning into his mouth as you feel him harden beneath you. It's a wonder he can't feel your wetness, the thin fabric against your folds sopping as you practically ride his thigh. And he's holding you into it, leaving you breathless as you run your tongue over his lower lip, memorizing his taste.
He presses a string of light kisses to your jaw and neck, your eyes still closed, you head falling back to give him better access, until you hear the door slam shut again. “Looks like you got what you wanted, Tommy .” You say the nickname teasingly, fingers carding through his hair as you watch him chuckle. That laugh has you angling your hips down again, gasping as he readjusts against you, his mouth half open, eyes heavily lidded. You run your fingers over his clothed cock, so fucking hard as he stutters into your touch. Tom breathes out your name, sending a shiver of pleasure simultaneously up your spine and straight to your cunt, your legs trembling slightly.
He can feel you shivering, close without even touching you, and he slides his hand between your nearly flush bodies, sucking your lower lip into his mouth as his fingers brush against the soaked fabric of your underwear. “So wet for me,” he murmurs against your skin, his finger sliding through your slick folds before he pushes it into you. Your breath catches again, a whine pressed into his shoulder as you hitch your leg up, desperately trying to get him deeper.
“Fuck.” Tom feels you clenching around his finger, a whining mess against him, and he takes his fingers away, unable to wait any longer as you hastily undo his pants, both hands grabbing your ass and lifting you up. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck, nose brushing his, sucking in a sharp breath as you feel him pressing against your weeping entrance. Grinding down, his fingers press bruisingly hard into your skin and you feel instantly full with his cock buried inside of you. He hasn’t even moved yet and you want to cry, angling your hips to get any kind of friction you can, panting against his cheek, “please Tom—“
That’s got him moving, pumping into you with little regard to how fucking big his cock actually is. You’re so deliciously tight, whining his name, curses falling from his lips because he’s so fucking close and he doesn’t want it to end just yet. You can feel him twitching inside of you, clenching down hard as you kiss him again, your orgasm hitting suddenly and hard. You’re shaking against him and Tom can’t do anything but come with you, holding you tightly against him as his hips finally stutter to a halt. He doesn’t stop kissing you for a long time, breathless and wanting when you finally pull apart.