Hiddlebatch one shot(s)

Platonic cuddles

A/n: ahh yes finally doing this one... Yay! After a long day of filming and shit Tom crashes at Ben's...

"Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch, you better get your manly arse up here a platonically cuddlewith me." Tom practically shouted at the body on his rug. Ben let out a laugh, "No way! I'm perfectly comfy here. I'm not making you do that!" Ben replied, trying to hold his ground. He knew it was useless to try to fight with Hiddleston, he was great but he was also a stubborn arse. It was like trying to ride a bull, a hot as fuck bull in his borrowed black t-shirt.

Tom curled his toes, and shuffled close to the back of Benedict's charcoal couch. "I will continue to say your name until you get your fucking arse next to mine." Tom raised an eyebrow at him and held in a smile, his lips just barely curling upwards to show his reluctant smile. Ben let out and exasperated sigh and fake groan, standing up and flopping down on the sofa next to him. Ben's bare back pressed against Tom's clothed chest. "I don't have a shirt on." Ben pointed out the obvious, shrinking down slightly, "Yeah so..." Tom replied, awkwardly setting his hands on his own hips, the other supporting his head. Benedict chewed his lips, "I just feel awkward." Ben answered. Tom laughed quietly and stared at Ben's back, tempted to run his fingers over the bare skin. He gripped his shirt to resist the temptation, moving his eyes upward, "Don't worry... I'm not gonna rape you." Tom tried to joke.

***

It had to have been at least three in the morning but Tom hadn't even shut his eyes to sleep, he stared at the dark figure next to him. He reached a hand up and hovered it above his waist, trying to decide if it was such a bad thing to touch his side.

He glided a finger over his skin, watching for some sort of reaction from the sleeping figure, Ben didn't make a sound, he just laid still. Tom smiled and slipped a hand over his chest, grazing his skin. He closed his eyes for the first time that night, taking in the familiar scent of campfire and books. It was minutes later that his hand was met with touch, Ben's hand laying over top of the one Tom had placed on his chest. Tom smiled, fidgeting his hand before lacing their fingers together, slipping his free hand under his head.

***

Tom awoke the next morning to a throbbing pain in his arm, the kind you get after a limb 'falls asleep' and you don't realise. He attempted to move it before he noticed where it was, tucked under a mop of inky curls. He smiled, god what his teenage self would do if he knew he had a boy in his arms as hot as Benedict Cumberbatch. He had always been gay, which is how it usually goes, you're born that way, you come out of the womb and sent straight to exile for being in love. He hadn't said anything about until he was about 15 when he told his sister, who told his mom, who for what she now had on her plate, was fairly calm and told him it was okay, crying in a mess of his arms and telling him to keep it on the down low for now. He hadn't known how long 'for now' was, so he never said it again, watching for those who might share his feelings. He would've died to have a night like tonight, waking up to being a bigger spoon with a face like heaven and eyes like the sea.

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to wake up next to me?" Ben mumbled, breaking the silence with his tired, low voice. Tom turned beet red, gasping and trying to make distance between their bodies. Ben let out a long chuckle, "Oh my god Tom! For Christ sakes! I was joking!!! You're not even touching me!!" Ben laughed, reaching with his other hand, placing it on the one that was interlocked with Tom's, giving him a small squeeze. Tom laughed to cover up his nerves, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

Silence quickly penetrated the laughter, filling the room with terrible awkwardness. Ben took his extra hand away and let it flop to his side, "Besides, if you were that excited I wouldn't blame you, it's not like it'd be your fault you thought I was a hot shirtless lady- Or- or man of your dreams." Tom let out a genuine laugh this time, staring down at the couch.

Ben turned his body over to face Tom, resulting in Tom quickly pulling his hand from Ben's grip, his fingers gliding against the skin on his waist where his hand was. Ben smiled a small smile, "It's okay Tom." He took Tom's hand in his own, picking it up and dropping it to his waist, placing a hand over it, "You are allowed to touch my hips. It's not a fucking crime. " Tom smiled nervously, he hadn't ever felt like this. He never thought being nervous was his thing but something about the spark in his finger tips when Ben placed them on his hips, an undeniable spark, it sounded stupidly cliché in his mind too but there was definitely a spark. Tom let his finger trace over the skin on Ben's hip, feeling the bone just under the skin. Ben smiled, "I'm not so terrifying anymore huh?" Tom rolled his eyes, "Shut up." Tom answered back.

Tom's eyes traveled down Ben's body, watching his form carefully, on the way back up he didn't look at his eyes though, he locked them on his large pink lips. He studied the cuspids bow, the deep dip in it... He watched Ben's lips form into a perfect smile, smiling back at the mouth, looking at the crinkles by his eyes momentarilly, the folds in his cheeks, "You're bad at being subtle." Ben teased, Tom met his eyes again, "I know I am, but just my gaze doesn't mean a thing." Tom replied, blinking slowly. Benedict nodded, tilting his head forward, just inches from Tom's, "Yeah but your pupils invouluntarily just got big. What's that mean?" Tom didn't dare pull away, he just stared. Ben raised an eyebrow, winking with the opposite eye. Tom let out a laugh, moving in just slightly until his lips were touching Ben's, but he didn't kiss him, "I have a feeling you thought that was a lot more attractive in your head." Tom mumbled against his lips.

Ben let out a soft sigh against his lips, "Can we just- God, how do I word this non-awkwardly. Fuck it. Can we just kiss?" Ben sounded flustered, his body twitching softly under Tom's fingertips. Tom laughed, "Yeah okay. I can do that." Tom answered.

He closed the space between them, his lips just barely parting at the touch. He could feel sparks on his tongue and tasted the release of tension. Benedict pushed up against him with his body, climbing on top of him with ease and agility, his body feeling its way to comfort. Tom let out a soft moan beneath him, his fingers digging into the soft skin on the middle of Ben's back.

Ben's fingers trailed down his waist, letting his tongue travel into Tom's highly acceptant mouth. Ben's finger crawled under Tom's shirt, tenderly stroking the soft skin on his stomach. Tom swallowed a moan, slapping Ben's hand away quickly, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand out from under his shirt, he placed it back on his (clothed) chest. He pulled away from Ben, his breath heavy, "Let's just take it slow." Tom muttered between breaths. Ben nodded respectfully, searching his eye quickly, "Wait a minute, Tom! You've never had sex with a man before, have you?" Benedict held in a smirk, raising an eyebrow. Tom glanced out of the corner of his eye, avoiding his gaze, "So." Tom huffed.

Ben sat back on his knees, placing his hands on Tom's thighs, "Have you ever been... With a girl?" Tom chewed his gums and shook his head, "Oh my god! Tom! You could've told me!! I would've gone a lot slower! I feel awful!" Ben covered his mouth, his lips wet with shared saliva. Tom rolled his eyes, "Which is why I didn't tell you. I just don't wanna make out for three minutes and then fuck. That's not a good system for anyone." Tom pulled Benedict back down to his mouth, wrapping his hair in his fingertips.

Tom grazed his teeth over Ben's bottom lip, his tongue flickering over his teeth. Ben let out a small whimper, his hands faltering to keep Tom clothed. Ben pulled away for a second to break his kiss, "Just tell me when to go to the next step." Ben met his lips again quickly, feeling Tom's fingers graze over his own, placing them under his shirt.