Do I have to say it? NSFW. ≥18. Kids, go away, grandma is busy... *sick & twisted* Hi, I'm Tarry! Singer, Scouter, nut! Proudly obsessed with Tom Hiddleston, with the blessings of my husband! But, Barbershop is where it's at, baby! And aren't I too old for all this, anyway?
Ah, I love this type of question. Hijacking this one from the other admins because I can. If you come round and ask at another time, you’ll get a different answer from each of the admins! ;P
Can I pick two? I’m gonna pick two because I’m greedy like that and I wanna.
So I have a thing for casual!Tom. A very, very, very serious love affair with casual!Tom. So my ultimate is:
Let’s just take a minute here to reflect on this masterpiece, because ekfjoeeirefkoeiwoeslpw
Firstly, there’s the ever loverly curls upon his head. Curly, fluffy, almost-tamed-but-not-really.
Secondly, the nerdy fake glasses - I. just. can’t. Evens out the suave gentlemanly exterior with a bit of playful fun.
Thirdly, the smile. That smile that reaches his eyes is just dreamy. That’s the stuff of every girl’s dream right there.
Fourthly, the solid neck and Adam’s apple, Jesus Christ on a cracker with jam. I… *falls over*
Fifthly, the relaxed, yet confident posture of a man absolutely in control of every muscle in his body. There are no words in the English language or any other to describe the amount of sex in that stance and the command he has of his entire being. Amiright?!
Sixthly, the broad chest, the width and the breadth and the structure of it. I could wax poetic for hours I could spend tracing every inch.
Seventhly, the way that t-shirt fits him…. Just, just, just, just… someone get me a drink of water
Eighthly, the arms. Can we investigate and study the exposed skin of his arms (and his neck)? It looks so smooth. I’d love to run my fingers over them for hours- no, days- no, months - okay, forever really.
Ninthly, the veins and the fingers - yeah, you follow along with where I’m going with this. Strong, yet elegant. Rigid, yet agile. Those hands will caress you, hold you, protect you and love you - perfectly.
Tenthly, THIGHS *whispers* the upside down V of his crotchler area. *whimpers*
and I’m done…
But wait!!! There’s more!
My second favorite:
Because scruff and dreamy eyes and beautiful smile and all the goodly Hiddleston stuff. Did I mention casual!Tom with the v-neck t-shirt under a blazer that doesn’t quite look like the bespoked-within-a-stitch-of-its-life suit jacket that we normally see Tom wear. Yep! That’s the Tom I like.
Awww, well, c’mon, every one knows I am all about 1883: Wet Tom in the bathtub in those fucking boots! And the bare feet. Some truly funky clothes in that shoot, but the cute dancing, the bare feet, and ultimately, I’ll say it again: Wet Tom in the bathtub in those fucking boots! Nuff said!
Some of these are new to me. Hope your Sunday is going great, Im a snotty but happy girl with smutty thoughts. ladywyldfire clojury snugglyhiddles jdmookami munchkin80 eve1978 vampirewithbedsidemanners the-haven-of-fiction
Some of these are new to me as well. This photo shoot has been one of my favorites. To me, it is Henry V in modern attire. A perfect mixture of bespoke and casual, with my favorite pair of shoes (damn you tarrysmith and your contagious Tom’s shoe fetish). For me Tom took on Henry’s self assurance and confidence during this time and it was so sensual (Moscow!Tom, WarHorse!Tom, and as the-haven-of-fiction has dubbed him Ultimate!Tom). As much as I love blond, curly Tom, this is where the “boy” came of age and became The Man in all of his glory. LONG LIVE THE KING!
Haha... I love that you’re looking at the shoes! These ARE lovely: oxfords, which he only wears rarely, as he seems to prefer derbys, as do I -- so much more a better fit for those of us with high insteps...
A special birthday gift for my dearest darling servent-alearika. I was supposed to write a sexy free-for-all, and instead, I wrote this tender, poignant sweet little fic! I’ve been gone awhile, but still writing. If you’ve missed me, bless you! I’ll try to be back more!
Character: slightly AU Loki, set sometime around/before/after The Avengers
Rated: M
Remember
For servent-alearika
“Mister? Mister, are you all right?”
Luke Roisson blinked up at the hazy, distant, sound, his mind trying to swim towards it, images lingering – a gleaming golden room... a large, golden man in a strange helmet, with a golden sword… a portal to another world… a sparkling, iridescent, colored walkway... a different golden helmet, this one with large, curving horns…
He shook his head, blinking again, finally seeing her.
“I’m OK, uh,” his eyes lit on the plastic name badge that was pinned over her right breast, “uh,Tonya. Yeah, I’m all right.”
He stood, and immediately swayed, his legs collapsing under him. He grabbed at the table and sat back down again, hard.
“No, you’re not,” Tonya said, her voice colored with concern. “Clearly, you’re not all right. Look, I get off in fifteen minutes. Let me get you some more coffee; you just sit here, and then I can take you to the free clinic over on 12th.”
Luke slumped against the red vinyl seat, still blinking, and now looking around the pleasant little diner where he sat. He had a dim memory of coming in here, but lately, he wasn’t sure what was real, and what was just in his head. The visions that he’d been having a few minutes ago, for instance: he’d been having their like for weeks. At first, they’d only come in his sleep – strange dreams of that same golden room, with the golden man and the colored walkway… an older couple in quaint costumes: the man wore braids in his long beard and had an eyepatch, the beautiful woman looked at him with such sadness and love... a blond giant of a man, with leather armor and a red cape...
The dreams occurred with increasing frequency, until finally, he’d begun to have them even when he was awake, like today. Luke closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his chin and jaw. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore.
No, that wasn’t true, damn it. He was Luke Roisson, thirty-two years old. He was an accountant with Price Somerville Stase. His parents’ names were Barney and Patty. He was an only child. He lived in a two-bedroom apartment on Victory Avenue. He’d come into this diner for a bite to eat, on his way home from a Saturday morning spent doing some catch up at work…
Tonya was back, carafe of coffee in her hand. She poured him a cup, her eyes full of sympathy. “Just a few more minutes, mister, and I’ll be done with my shift, and I can get you over to the clinic.”
The worry evident in her voice touched something in Luke, and he looked up into her face, his eyes meeting hers. “That won’t be necessary,” he said quietly. “I’m fine; I don’t want to put you to any trouble, and I don’t want to go to the clinic.”
“But you’re dizzy,” Tonya protested. “You nearly fell there, a minute ago. You should go get checked out.”
He shook his head, the tiniest trace of a smile quirked his thin lips. “I’m just tired,” he said. “And I think I need a piece of pie.”
Tonya grinned. “Cherry? Alamode?” she asked, and Luke nodded.
“Perfect,” he said, grinning back at her.
A few minutes later, Tonya returned, slice of pie in hand. She set the plate and a fork down in front of him. “I’ll just go get ready and grab my things, and then we can go,” she said, still sounding concerned.
Luke finished chewing and swallowed his bite of pie. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the clinic.”
“Did you drive here?” she asked, her hands on her hips.
“Ah, no,” Luke said. “I was walking, and I took the bus.”
“Well, then,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “I’ll take you home.”
She eyed him brief for another moment or two, before glancing at her watch. She turned, untying her apron as she walked away from the table, still looking at him over her shoulder.
Luke ate his pie slowly, wondering if he shouldn’t just get up and walk out before she got back, but the pie was very good, and he was really feeling confused. The thought of going back alone to his apartment, where he’d mostly likely have another of the odd visions, or fall asleep and have the dreams, didn’t appeal to him at all. No, he would go with Tonya, wherever she wanted to take him. Maybe being with her would help him make sense of what was going on with his life.
***
Tonya put her apron in the hamper, grabbing her coat and purse. She took out the clips and shook out her hair, drawing a few deep breaths.
“Hey, Ton, who’s the hottie at table nine?” her friend and co-worker Lori asked. “I saw you out there talking to him. He’s sure a looker.”
“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Tonya said thoughtfully. “I don’t know his name. He comes in here a couple of times a week, always orders cherry pie alamode. I think he works at PSS—sometimes he has folders with their logo on them with him. He’s kinda in a little bit of a daze today, and he tried to stand up and almost fell over earlier. I offered to take him to the free clinic, but he says that he’s fine and doesn’t want to go, so I said I’d take him home.”
Her friend eyed her dubiously. “Do you think that’s safe? What if he’s some kind of rapist, or something?”
Tonya grinned. “Does he look like a rapist?”
Lori snuck a peek at the man still sitting there, finishing the last bite of his pie. “Well, no,” she said doubtfully. “In truth, he looks like… a Greek god or something. Geez, Ton, he’s beautiful. Just be careful, OK?”
Tonya’s face softened. “Thanks, Lori, I will. He is gorgeous, huh? I’ve never seen anyone else at all like him.”
Lori nodded in agreement. Tonya slipped on her coat, excited to think that he was waiting for her. You couldn’t tell while he was sitting down, but she knew that he was tall, a couple of inches over six feet. His body was hard and lean, wiry, with long, defined muscles. His black hair was worn unfashionably long, just brushing the top his collar, and Tonya’s fingers ached to find out if it felt as silky soft as it looked. His skin was flawless: smooth and pale, his eyes were a clear, mesmerizing blue, and over all, he was quite the most handsome, attractive, beautiful man that Tonya had ever seen. A little breathless, she waved to Lori as she put her purse strap over her shoulder and went out to meet him.
Luke stood as he saw her coming; pleased when, this time, he only felt a little bit dizzy. But it was getting worse: this disorientation, the feeling like he didn’t belong here. The giant blond man haunted him…
“Let’s go,” Tonya said, looking up at him with a little frown.
“I need to pay for my pie and coffee…?” he began.
“On the house,” Tonya snapped, eying him dubiously. “I still think I should take you to the clinic.”
“No!” Luke protested, almost violently. “No clinic! They can’t help me.”
They were walking now, and Tonya was fishing through her purse for her keys. Luke had his hands behind his back, and Tonya got the impression of immense power radiating from him. “You know that I’m Tonya, but I don’t know your name,” she said, mostly for something to say, one brow arched as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Luke,” he said, suddenly feeling as if that was close, but not quite right. His name was Luke, wasn’t it? “Luke Roisson.”
“Tonya Johnson,” she said. He envied her for sounding certain. “Pleased to meet you.”
They had arrived at Tonya’s little car. She unlocked the passenger door and then stood back, watching in amusement as Luke struggled to fold his tall, lanky frame into the small seat. “They don’t make these cars with people as tall as you in mind, do they?”
“I guess not,” Luke said, grinning, feeling better than he had in a couple of weeks. He slumped back into the seat, another kind of disorientation suddenly hitting him. He’d been stopping by this dinner for a few months now, because they did have good pie, but as Tonya opened the driver’s door and climbed in beside him, he realized that the reason that he was there was… for her, for Tonya. Something about her soothed him; he felt calmer in her presence. He drew a deep breath and bit his lip. In some odd way, he knew that he... needed her.
He swallowed audibly in the dim light as Tonya started the car. “Can I come home with you?” he blurted out, embarrassed that he sounded so needy. “We don’t have to do anything. I mean, I don’t expect you to entertain me. We can just watch TV or something. I just... I don’t want to be alone.”
Tonya risked a glance over at him, frowning uncertainly. “I’m not entirely sure that that’s a good idea,” she said. “I don’t know you. You could be a rapist…”
Luke snorted. “I’m not a rapist, I’m an accountant,” he said, and Tonya heard the thread of laughter, along with the worry, running through his voice at the non-sequitur. “It’s not the same thing at all!”
“Fair enough,” she said, grinning. “OK, I’ll trust you.” And somehow, she knew that she could.
***
“It’s not much,” she said, as she took the stairs up to her studio apartment, “so don’t say I didn’t warn you. But, it’s home.”
Luke followed her, his eyes drawn to the sweet curve of her bottom as the muscles bunched gracefully with her movements. He acknowledged to himself that he was attracted to her, but that wasn’t what this was about. Somehow, he felt drawn to her on another level, but he just wasn’t sure what it meant. He was suddenly slammed with an image of her wearing leather armor, sword in hand, her hair flying wildly in the wind, a smear of blood across her cheek… He groaned and grasped at the railing, catching himself before he took a tumble down the stairs.
“Damn it, Luke, you’re not OK,” Tonya said, looking back at him worriedly. “I knew I should have taken you to the clinic!”
“No!” Luke said angrily, straightening up and forcing himself to take steady steps. He joined her on the little landing, waiting for her to unlock the door. After a few moments of watching him intently, she did, and he followed her inside.
The studio apartment was tiny, with not a lot of room for furniture. There was a miniscule kitchen in one corner, a small television set on a stand in another, and a regular-sized double bed along the back wall. Two comfortable looking chairs were grouped around a small table in the middle of the room. Tonya watched Luke’s assessment, relaxing a little when he seemed to like what he saw.
“This is a happy space,” he said quietly, eyeing the chairs, but then seeming to dismiss them as he took a seat on the end of the bed.
“I’ll make coffee,” Tonya said. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you something stronger, but somehow, I don’t think it would be a good idea for you, anyway.”
“Thank you, no, I don’t drink,” Luke said quietly. “It makes the visions worse…” his voice trailed off.
“Visions?” Tonya said, coming over, hesitating a moment before sitting down beside him. “What visions? What’s going on? Who are you?” She wondered herself what she meant by that.
Luke looked at her, his eyes troubled. “I’m… I’m starting to wonder that myself. But Tonya… who are you?” He couldn’t get the vision of her out of his head.
Tonya’s eyes sharpened as they snapped to his. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.
Luke drew in a breath, held it a moment, and then let it out in a rush. “I just saw you, in my vision,” he said bleakly. “You looked like some kind of warrior…”
“Just now? You’re crazy,” she said flatly, standing up in a rush. “I’m just a waitress at a diner, and I think you should go. I don’t think I can deal with this.” For some reason, his words disturbed her more than they should, seeming outrageous and frightening.
Luke grabbed her arm, blinking rapidly. He seemed desperate. “No, please,” he begged, “please, let me stay here. I feel safer when I’m with you.”
In spite of the oddness of the situation, and how strange he was making her feel, Tonya laughed, although it felt uncomfortable. “OK, whatever,” she finally said, her voice sounding forced. “Just, no more weird stuff, OK?”
Luke just nodded, not saying anything, but he looked relieved.
“Um, I’m going to shower and change out of my uniform,” she said, getting up from the bed and going over to her dresser, pulling out sweatpants and a tee shirt. “Will you be all right? Can I get you anything?” She eyed him over her shoulder.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll just help myself to coffee when it’s done, and maybe watch a little TV.”
Tonya smiled faintly, nodding to herself. “OK, then,” she said, crossing over to the bathroom.
This had turned out to be one of the strangest days she could ever remember. Something about this man, this Luke Roisson, touched her in some way. He unsettled her, at the same time that he calmed her. Tonya acknowledged wryly to herself that that didn’t make any sense. She stripped off her work clothes and stepped into the small tub/shower combination, still thinking about what he’d said. Her, a warrior – she grimly acknowledged that it scared her because it was so familiar -- she’d had that dream: alien beings, smoke, noise, chaos. Herself in leather and metal, a sword in her hand, fighting at his side… Wait… fighting at his side? Was that right? Did she actually know him? Shivering in spite of the warmth of the water, Tonya finished washing, toweling off and putting on the clothing she’d brought with her.
She returned to the main room, halting as she approached the bed. Luke had poured two cups of coffee; there was one on each nightstand on either side of the bed, and the pleasant fragrance teased at her nostrils. She could see that he had removed his shoes, and his jeans sat folded neatly atop them in the corner. Her mouth curved in a soft smile, and it felt as if he had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. He’d crawled into her bed and now lay fast asleep, his face looking so young and at peace in repose, resting against one of her pillows, his hair tumbled across his forehead.
She didn’t know him, but somehow she felt a connection. She shrugged and got into bed, inexplicably trusting him more than she knew she ought to. Soon, she, too, slept.
***
The screams were heart-rending, desperate, and she clutched at her sword, frantic to get to him. She spotted him near; he fought valiantly as well, and she knew that his desperation was for her, as he dispatched another opponent in his determined bid to get to her, to protect her at all costs. But every enemy that they cut down was replaced by three more, and she was pushed further and further away from him, in spite of his efforts to get to her…
Luke sat bolt upright in bed, feeling disoriented, gradually becoming aware that the cries he heard were coming from his own throat. Tonya reached over, her fingers finding his face in the darkness, brushing at his tears.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It was just a dream.” She pulled him into her arms and he went willingly, burying his damp face against her neck. She stroked his hair gently, pressing light kisses to his forehead and brow, murmuring soothing nonsense syllables. She would stop to analyze why it felt like they’d been sharing the same dream – later. Right now, she simply sought to comfort him.
Slowly, as she held him, he relaxed in her arms. His had wrapped around her waist, and he clutched her to him. When he pulled back, looking up at her, she pressed her mouth to his, still only meaning to soothe. She kissed him again, once more seeking only to calm and to reassure. She paused, drawing back, and they looked at each other, breathing heavily, eyes glittering in the dimness. Slowly, Luke cupped her face in his hands and drew her mouth to his. He kissed her softly, but this time his lips clung.
Tonya wasn’t sure of the exact moment that the kiss changed from one of comfort to one of need. Tongues dueling, hands grasping – it was as if they couldn’t get close enough to each other. Tonya slipped her hands under Luke's tee shirt, caressing his skin, which was soft and smooth, but seemed oddly cool to the touch. Luke cupped her breast over her shirt, sucking in a breath when he found that she wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumbs found her nipples and strummed them lightly, and then he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. His soon followed, and then he pulled her back into his arms, both of them delighting at the feel of skin on skin. Luke bent his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, and Tonya cried out at the sweetness of it. She cradled his head, fingers slipping through his hair (‘so soft,’ she thought), and then he pulled away, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers.
He drew a deep breath. “Why does it feel as if we’ve done this before?” he asked, almost whispering. “I feel as if I know exactly how to touch you. That if I do this,” he ran both hands down her back, slipping them beneath the waist hand of her sweat pants and gently squeezing the cheeks of her ass, “that you’ll react like this…”
She gasped and bucked her hips. And knew that he was right. “I don’t know,” she managed to say. She squirmed, rubbing herself against him. She reached down and stroked his erection through the thin fabric of his underwear. “I don’t know, but you’re right. I’ve had you in my dreams. I don’t know why, and right now, I don’t care. Luke – that’s not your name, but it will have to do – I need you. Please…”
Her sweat pants and panties, followed shortly by his boxers, joined their tee shirts on the floor, and then, they just held each other, something about the familiarity of the gesture so soothing to both of them, and yet so arousing at the same time.
“We belong together,” he murmured, kissing her again.
“Yes,” she said on a sigh, as he slid his velvet hardness into her stick, wet softness.
“God, you feel good,” he said with a moan, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them and looking deeply into hers. “Just like always.”
Tonya nodded, and wrapped her legs around his, lifting into him, silently encouraging him to move in her. Slowly he withdrew almost all the way, then slid home again, and Tonya moaned once more. Slowly, Luke thrust into her, changing the angle each time until Tonya cried out. He grinned and his movements sped up, his control beginning to waver. He closed his eyes.
“We’ve done this before, I know we have, but it was in another time and place, and it’s been awhile. I’m not going to last…” his voice was rough as he struggled to hold back.
“Luke…” Tonya’s arms and legs tightened around him, and her head tipped back. “I’m… I’m… oh, god…” her voice rose to a cry as she came, and as her inner muscles gripped him, squeezing and releasing rhythmically, he let go, calling her name as he found his own release.
Still breathing heavily, he rolled off of her, pulling her into his arms. She pillowed her head against his chest, brushing her fingers over his smooth, pale skin.
“I just don’t understand,” she murmured sleepily. “How can we have done this before, when I don’t even know you? Except that somehow, I do. I do know you. And this is right. And... usual. This is usual. It’s routine. Oh, what am I saying? Maybe this is some sort of past life thing? But... You know what? I’m too tired to think about this any more tonight.”
Luke gently stroked her hair, nuzzling her forehead. “It doesn’t feel like a past life,” he said, so quietly that she wasn’t sure that he had really said it. “It feels more immediate than that, and real… Which is my dream, and which is my reality? I’m very much afraid that if this continues, pretty soon I’m not going to know...”
She cupped his face in her hand, lifting her head to kiss him. “You should get some more sleep. We both should.”
“Yes,” he said, kissing her back, squeezing her tightly. “Um, Tonya?”
“Yes, Luke?” She looked into his eyes, startled at what she could see shining there, even in the dark.
“I, um…” he brushed her hair back from her face and drew a deep breath. “I remember somehow that I, uh, I love you.”
He saw her grin through the dimness. “I know,” she said cheekily. “And do you remember that I love you, as well?”
He chuckled. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “You always said that you did.”
“Yes,” she said, sobering. “I love you, Luke.”
He nodded. “I love you, Tonya.”
***
Luke came awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. He had to protect her at all costs! He scrambled up, cursing, trying to find his clothes. They were coming; he’d heard the crash. Suddenly the door burst open and the giant blond man from his visions stormed in, silver armor clanking, red cape rippling behind him, some kind of short-handled sledge hammer held in his meaty fist.
“Loki!” he yelled. “By Valhalla, I’ve finally found you! I’ve been looking all over Midgard!” He stopped, looking over the scene, his eyes narrowing when he saw Tonya glaring at him angrily from where she sat up in the bed.
Tonya knew that she should be frightened, but this wasn’t the first time that he had caught them together…
Holy hell, where did that memory come from? What in blazes was going on?
The blond beast looked from Luke to Tonya to Luke again, and his face broke into a grin. “Loki, Tonjah, well, if this doesn’t convince Father that you belong together, I don’t know what will! You both here, together, even after all that’s happened! Well, get up! Get dressed, both of you. You’re coming with me, back to Asgard. Mother and I finally convinced Father to let you come back. You’re both to be pardoned.”
It was Tonya who finally spoke. “I’m sorry, but who are you again? And why do you think we’d go anywhere with you, dressed like that?”
“Oh, yes, right, I’m sorry; I forgot about the mind wipe...” The blond seemed to be speaking more to himself than to them. He put his odd hammer down on the counter and paced back and forth, agitatedly, rapidly enough that his cape lifted behind him. He stopped and looked back and forth between them again.
“Your name is Tonjah,” he began. “You’re one of Asgard’s elite female guard, assigned to him.” He inclined his head and turned towards Luke. “Loki, it’s me, it’s Thor. We’re brothers…”
Luke -- Loki – froze. “We’re not brothers,” he said roughly. “We were never brothers!”
The memories came in a flash, one after another, and if Loki hadn’t still been sitting up in the bed, he would have fallen. He remembered it, all of it… Jotenheim, his father’s betrayal, falling from the Bi-Frost, the Chitari, his sentencing, prison, falling in love with his guard, the mind wipe…
He turned to Tonjah, sweeping her into his arms. “Oh my love…” he murmured.
“Are we really to be pardoned?” Tonjah asked Thor over Loki’s shoulder. “Truly?”
He REALLY needs to be in another love story (almost as much as I need him to be in another love story & I don’t mean Crimson Peak - happy ending type PLEASE).
This chapter is dedicated to the beautiful and talented jeanburg, who, when she found out that I used her photo
to be Clarice, made herself a tumblr account, and, in her own words, “tumblr stalked” me! She’s read everything I’ve written here, The TWH Factor is her...
Aww thank you so much jossisgod for including me! Here are the lovely fun blogs I enjoy (in no particular order), and I wish I could list them all! Because I left out at least 10 animal blogs!!!
reblogging from my OFFICIAL Tumblr account. Raffle and prizes and cover art and Goodreads and holy crap, I’m typing through tears right now, seriously.
SO many people encouraged me to publish professionally and here we are! I feel like this could be the start of some great things for me. I wanted to thank so many of you for your kind words and cheerleading and comments.
It’s here… it’s becoming real. Excuse me I’m a little verklempt right now.
EDIT: Tell me this isn’t gorgeous and I’ll call you a liar!
This chapter is dedicated to the beautiful and talented jeanburg, who, when she found out that I used her photo to be Clarice, made herself a tumblr account, and, in her own words, “tumblr stalked” me! She’s read everything I’ve written here, The TWH Factor is her favorite of my stories, she doesn’t quite get The Unholy Three, and if you don’t think it’s weird to have your daughter read all of your fan fic porn, well, then it probably hasn’t happened to you! She wanted Jay & Clarice smut... I’ve never written any but Tom before! And, they’re on a celibacy pact... Well, hope y’all enjoy! Thanks for reading! Love you, Jeany!
After the little stunt that Tom and I pulled on Jay and Bethany to make them jealous, Jay became extra solicitous. And it was wonderful! But all the attention, all the little touches – well, it was so unlike what I was used to. Jay didn’t seem to need excuses any more. He was constantly touching me. Constantly! My hands, my shoulders, my arms, my hips, my waist, my face… He couldn’t see me without running his fingers though my hair….
Did I love it? Yes! But, remember, I had insisted on moving him out of our room, out of our lovely double bed, into the room across the hall with the twin beds. Bethany moved in with me, and Jay moved in with Tom!
Now, don’t get me wrong: I had become close to Bethany, but having her in bed with me every night was not what I was wanting after Jay began what I privately started to refer to as Operation Drive Clarice Mad With Lust. That damn celibacy pact! What the hell had I been thinking?!
Well, it was a good idea, one I still embraced in theory. I really did think it would make for a much more enjoyable and meaningful wedding night. And yet, I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive til then, after Jay turned up the heat. I was walking around in a constant state of arousal, my panties drenched. The chaffing was starting to really get to me, and it was effecting my work. Every night I would say goodnight to Jay, and of course, he’d kiss me. And fuck, can that man kiss! And then he’d send me off to bed, that I fucking had to share with Bethany, so that even any playing with my old pal BOB (you know, the Battery-Operated Boyfriend, right girls?) was restricted to hurried sessions standing up in the bathroom. I could tell that Bethany was suffering with it, too, and I could sympathize, but that didn’t help me with my problem!
So, this was a few nights before the wedding: it almost got away from me. Jay and I were saying goodnight in the dining room. It wasn’t that late, and we were cuddled together on the couch, our arms wrapped around each other. Jay took my face in both hands, his fingers trembling, tilting my face and kissing me like my mouth was an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. It felt like he was drawing my soul out from between my lips, and I grabbed this wrists, pulling his hands down to my chest, forcing him until he cupped my breasts, and I couldn’t help but let out a needy moan.
“Jay,” I gasped, “I’m not going to make it. I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me in the next ten minutes!”
Jay froze, his hands stilling, then reluctantly, he pulled away from me, settling me in the corner of the couch and moving himself over to the opposite corner. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily and shakily looking at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Reecy,” he said faintly. “I got carried away.”
“This is stupid!” I exclaimed. “What was I thinking? I can’t do this! I need you now!”
I reached for him, ready to give up the silly notion of staying chaste til the wedding, but he scrambled away from me, jumping up off the couch and moving around the back til it stood between us. He held his hands out, palms toward me, warding me off.
“Now, Clarice, calm down,” he gulped, his eyes wide.
I’m sure I looked like I was ready to devour him, as, in fact, I was! I rose to my feet, stalking slowly around the couch towards him, but he sidled around at the same pace, maintaining the distance between us. I glanced at the bulge in his jeans and licked my lips.
“Come on, Jay,” I said seductively. “I can see that you want me…”
He stopped, blinking at me, absently reaching down to adjust himself. “Of course I do, Reecy,” he said, swallowing hard. “I’ve taken so many cold showers, and still, I have a giant case of blue balls. But I know you, and if we give in to this, you’re gonna be mad.”
That got me; of course he was right. I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. “Fuck you, Jay, of course you’re right,” I said despondently. “But this is killing me.”
He stood there, thinking, I could tell, and suddenly, I saw a light bulb go on over his head.
“When are Tom and Bethany supposed to be back?” he asked slyly.
“I’m sure their dinner will last for several more hours,” I said hopefully. The Hiddleston and Murrow clans were having a pre-wedding dinner somewhere in town. Both Tom and Bethany had been gone about a half an hour at this point, and I was sure that they would not be coming back any time soon. “Why? What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” Jay said, reaching out a hand to me.
I bit my lip, hesitating, but after a moment, I took it, and he turned and tugged me towards the stairs. I followed, a mixture of sadness and elation running through me. “Jay…” I breathed, defeated, my voice filled with longing and regret.
He glanced back at me over his shoulder. “Is your iPad charged?” he asked, one brow lifted in that so-sexy way of his.
“Yes, I think so,” I answered, puzzled.
“Good,” he said, a trace of lust and amusement making his lips twitch.
He turned back around, pulling me up the stairs and leading me down the corridor. He stopped outside the room I now shared with Bethany. She and I had the double bed, and Jay had moved in with Tom, into the room with twin beds. I think I already mentioned that, but the two rooms were almost directly across from each other.
Still holding my hand, he reached up with the other one and cupped my face, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“We agreed that we wouldn’t have sex, together, right?” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t jerk off, or you do, um, whatever it is you girls call it.” He pulled away, smirking, but kept his grip on my hand. “And we didn’t agree that we wouldn’t watch porn.”
“Porn?” I said, practically shrieking in disappointment. “Is that your grand idea?”
His lips twitched again. “I was thinking facetime,” he said quietly. “Naked facetime.”
I thought about that for a moment, and then it hit me. “Oh, you’re brilliant,” I said, fumbling for my room key. “Banuchel, you’re on. You’ve got ten minutes to get naked and get that ready. Hmmm. I’m feeling magnanimous; I’ll give you fifteen.”
“I’ll only need five,” he said, his voice sounding strained as he reached down to adjust himself again, dropping my hand to fish out his own room key. “See you on the other side.”
I’m sure the corridor rang with the sounds of our doors slamming. I know that I raced into my room, yanking my clothes off as I went. I used the toilet, washed my hands, then went back and plopped down on the bed, getting my vibrator out of the bedside drawer and powering on my iPad, more excited than I’d been since I’d suggested this silly celibacy thing. When the request came in, I accepted it eagerly.
And there was my Jay on the screen, his face in close up. “Hey, babe,” he said. “Are you ready for me?”
“I am sooo ready,” I said. “But you’re holding it too close. Pull back and show me what’s mine!”
He smirked at me, chuckling in a way that had all the fine hairs raising on the back of my neck. When he wants to, his voice can be very seductive, but I am the only one who ever gets to hear him sounding that way. The picture on my screen panned out, and I could see his body, his generously-sized, rock-hard cock that throbbed for me. The twitching movements told me how much he wanted me, and I moaned in anticipation, my mouth watering.
“Fuck, Jay, I want you,” I groaned.
“You got me,” he growled. “But it’s my turn. Show me what you got!”
I pulled my iPad away so that he could see my body. My nipples were hard and I was wet, and I knew he’d be able to tell, and it was turning me on. When he caught his breath and swallowed, I felt a fresh gush of moisture between my thighs.
“Clarice…” he whispered on a sigh, taking his cock in hand and stroking it slowly, root to tip. “Fuck, I wish this was you; I wish this was your mouth…”
He absently brushed the palm of his other hand over his chest, skimming lightly over his own flat nipples, before moving slowly down to cup his balls, cradling them and massaging gently. A moan escaped his lips.
“Fuck, Jay, that’s so hot…” I gasped, watching him. “I… fuck…”
“But you’re behind, Reecy,” he said, stopping. “Put down that iPad and touch yourself. Now.”
The way he said it was undeniably an order, and I smirked back at him. We’d played this game before, where he tried to go dominant on me, which is a huge joke if you know him -- and me -- but it is a fun game, nevertheless.
“How are you gonna make me? Sir?” I asked cheekily, while trying to think of a way to prop the thing up so that l could have my hands free. Getting creative with a pillow finally did the trick. All the while, I watched him, his hand periodically squeezing his cock, but otherwise not moving. I could see that he was struggling to hold back, and I bit my lip.
All traces of humor had vanished from his face. Ah, in order to gain control of himself, he was going to try to assert control over me, and I watched the subtle shift in his body language as he assumed the role.
“Clarice,” he said quietly, the commanding tone of his voice sending a chill over my entire body, causing me to tingle. I faltered and forgot to breathe. It had been awhile since he’d gone so deep into this; my heart soared when I realized that it meant that he missed me just as much as I missed him.
“Sorry, Master Jay,” I whispered. “So sorry, please don’t punish me.” I rose to my knees on the bed, placing my hands on my thighs. “What should I do?”
He visibly relaxed. “Sweet Reecy,” he said softly. “I know how hard this has been. No punishment. But, I do want you to touch yourself. Pinch your nipples.”
I lifted my hands to obey him, my pussy clenching when he began stroking his cock once more, oh-so-infinitely slowly.
“Oh, Master Jay,” I sighed. Without conscious thought, my right hand smoothed down over my body, over my stomach, pausing when it got to my lap.
“That’s it babe,” he said, satisfaction all over his face. “Let it go, pretend it’s me. I need to see it. Now.”
The first dip of my fingers into my wet pussy had me gasping. I shifted so that my legs were out in front of me and I was lying back, propped up against the headboard. I teased myself, exploring my folds and stroking just inside my entrance, but not too far, and totally avoiding my tingling clit.
All the while, I kept my eyes open, watching him watching me…
Jay
Reecy and I talked about this before we sat down to write it together. She wants me to take over now—
But l may chime in if I think he’s not telling it right…
Yes, Reecy…
Or leaving something out…
Baby, you said it was my turn now.
Sorry, Jay, yes. Please continue.
Thank you. Now, yes, after Clarice and Tom played their little prank on Bethany and me, well, I’m not an utter moron! I stepped it up. I love Clarice; how hard would it be to show her? Now that we weren’t keeping our relationship a secret any longer, how hard would it be to show everybody how much I love this woman?
And the whole celibacy thing – a good idea, which only made my determination to show Clarice – and everyone else – just how I felt about her. I was starving for her anyway, which made keeping my hands off of her nearly impossible. That night, just a few days before the wedding, when Tom and Bethany were both gone to their families’ dinner thing…. Well, that night, as Clarice has just said, we almost lost it.
I’m not sure what gave me the idea for facetime sex. Ah, technology. Gotta love it. The next best, logical step after phone sex. Not only could I hear her, but I could see her: her chest heaving with her heavy breathing, the faint flush spread over her cheeks and throat, her parted, moist lips, her avid, hungry eyes. Looking down her body, I saw her sweet nipples pink and pointy for me, and her beautiful pussy, glistening with arousal.
But I was way ahead of her. I hadn’t been able to resist stroking myself, and she hadn’t even started. When I realized that I was going to have to go all Master Jay on her, I stopped everything, as fucking hard as that was to do! I saw her eyes narrow when I issued my first order.
“But you’re behind, Reecy," I said. “Put down that iPad and touch yourself. Now.”
She smirked and tried to disobey me, but I knew she needed this release, and I knew that doing the Dom thing would give her the freedom to let go and enjoy it. My Reecy is usually the dominant one, I’m sure you can tell, not that we have one of “those” types of relationships. It’s just that she is a strong, intelligent, independent woman, one who won’t take shit off of anyone -- least of all me! -- one who knows what she wants and knows how to go about getting it. The “Master Jay/Sweet Reecy” game was something we played every once in a while, for fun: times when Clarice needed to let loose a little; and I could see that tonight she was too turned on and too uptight to really enjoy this facetime sex thing the way she really needed to. She was going to need Master Jay tonight.
And as hilarious and improbable as he is, I do love my Master Jay!
Hush. Now where was I? Oh, yes. In order to help Reecy get off, I became a bit imperious with her. And it really didn’t take much. Once I had gotten her to start touching herself, I knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. And thank god, because it had almost killed me, the stopping! The first sight of her fingers slipping into her wet pussy almost had me coming, but I fought it with everything that I had, squeezing my cock, gritting my teeth, and taking slow, deep breaths until had myself under some small semblance of control once more.
In the interim, while I struggled to back myself down, Clarice did more than what she need to do to catch up. She teased herself at first, stroking through her folds, fucking herself with shallow strokes. I about choked as I watched her pull back the hood and lightly flick her clit with just her fingernail. She let out a low moan that went straight to my dick, and I sucked in a breath and sped up my strokes.
I watched both her fingers and her face, because, of course, she is beautiful as she gets off, but I could tell that something wasn’t quite right, and she was becoming frustrated. She was frantically reaching inside, and I realized that she was having trouble getting to her g-spot.
“Clarice,” I said quietly, but she ignored me, so I tried another time. Master Jay to the rescue again. “Sweet Reecy!” I snapped, and she froze for a moment.
“What, Sir?” she asked, her fingers moving once more, but more deliberate, her eyes focusing on nine through the screen.
“Do you have your toy with you?” I asked, hoping almost desperately that she did, because I was about to blow, and she’d never forgive me if I lost it too soon ahead of her.
But I could tell, by the excited look on her face, that she did. She reached for it at, the same time saying, “Yes, Master Jay, I do.”
“I can see that I don’t have to tell you to use it,” I said, barely keeping the gratitude from showing in my voice. “There you go.”
The thing is practically silent, but as she turned it on and ran it around her opening, I could tell it was going to hit the spot, as it were. She held it against her clit for a moment, drawing a deep breath and clenching her eyes tight, before plunging it into herself.
I could tell the instant that it hit home, because her back arched up off the bed and she cried out. Immediately, her other hand abandoned her nipples and began working her clit feverishly, her chest rising and falling with her panting.
“Oh, fuck,” I think I moaned, or something similar, as I roughly worked myself.
“God, Jay, thank you,” she managed to get out. “ Fuck…”
“That’s my sweet, sweet Reecy,” I crooned, my own hand a blur on my cock.
“Work just the head,” she said, ordering me, and I had just enough control left to flip her a grin before doing what she said. Relaxing my grip, I spent a few moments rapidly stroking just the head, before tightening my fist and once more taking it root to tip.
“Are you close?” I bit out, as I felt my balls contract and I knew that I was mere seconds away from an orgasm of epic proportions. The truth is, I hadn’t gotten myself off in several days, and there was a lot of stuff stored up, if you know what I mean.
“Yes,” she gasped out, her head rearing back, her spine stiffening, her one hand working her vibrator, and the other flying on her clit.
The sight was so erotic that I couldn’t help letting out a whole string of muffled curses, ending with, “Oh, holy fucking hell!” as I came and came and came, my spunk exploding everywhere, hitting me in the face, the chest, the hair, and even splatting against the headboard of the bed behind me.
“What the fuck, Jay?” Clarice shrieked, watching me the whole time. Her voice rose in a wordless scream as she came too.
It was the hardest orgasm I had ever had at my own hand. Absolutely intense.
Thanks for that, Reecy. Yes, anyhow, we both lay there panting, watching each other. I know that I wasn’t capable of talking for a couple of minutes. After a bit, I heard her chuckle.
“You sure made a giant mess,” she said sensually, teasingly. “I’d better let you go clean up, and then we should get some sleep.”
I nodded, but I was overwhelmed by the need to hold her. “Put on your robe and meet me in the hallway,” I said, with the last remnants of Master Jay in my voice.
For once, she didn’t question me. She blinked at me solemnly, nodded, and said, “In just a minute, Sir.”
She flew to my arms and I crushed her to me, one hand wrapping around her shoulders while the other one tangled in her hair. “God, Clarice, I love you,” I said, somewhat breathlessly. I pulled back and pressed my lips to hers almost reverently.
“That was amazing, Jay,” she whispered, drawing a deep breath. “It seems wrong to say thank you, but… I needed that, so Jay, thank you. I love you. I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“Oh so very soon, my darling,” I said, and with a last squeeze and kiss on the top of her head, we said goodnight, and returned to our own rooms. I knew that we would make it now.
He was perfectly cast in this role. He played the character perfectly. If ever there was a Prince Charming, then Tom as William Buxton was the embodiment of that iconic archetype. ***SWOON*** Be still my heart.
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