Tom Hiddleston One-Shots

Loki- Apologies

A/N: So, I hope you liked the first one ;) it was inspired by two dreams I had of a vampire Tom, one where he was vampire Loki, and the other specifically the character Adam, from his new movie Only Lovers Left alive. Personally, I love the name Adam, so I thought I'd go with that :) anyhoo, here's the next one, please do comment and rate :)

***

I stand in front of the window, rain drops pelting the glass panes and trickling down like tears. How fitting that the gloomy weather should reflect my own mood. Then I hear approaching footfall, and somehow know right away who it is. Loki stops a few feet behind me, waiting quite a long time before saying anything.

I focus on seeing through the drizzling outside,, and neither turn around nor say anything just yet. An agonizing silence stretches between us before anyone breaks it. "I'm sorry." He says softly. "Please... forgive me." His smooth, eloquent voice sounds so pained, like it physically wounds his heart to even think of the possibilities.

I don't answer, not because I'm angry, but because I have no clue what to say. The soles of his formal, black leather shoes make muffled sounds as they tread nearer, and Loki moves in close to me to lay his hands on my arms. He kisses my hair, and I relax my arms, allowing his to slide under and around my waist.

I tilt my head a little to the side to be more comfortable, and he kisses my temple. "I'm sorry." He utters quietly, and dips his head. "I'm so sorry." Loki murmurs in my ear sincerely, kissing my cheek. "I can't say anymore, can I?"
"No." I reply honestly with an automatic exhalation, feeling more than a little uncertain. "You can't."
"Hm..." He kisses my cheek again, then my jaw, forging warm a trail of descent to the hollow of my neck. "I love you... I truly do." His lips return to my jaw. "Do you still love me?" Loki whispers, the rasp in his words giving me chills.
"Yes." I reply quietly, barely hesitating, even when the blunt truth of that statement scares me half to death. "I still love you." I turn around to face him, his hands on my hips as he leans down and kisses me tenderly. My eyes close, and both my hands hold either side of his face gently as our lips part.

Loki inhales, before passionately melding his mouth with mine again, his hand cupping my cheek as he deepens the passionate kiss, and a low moan escapes his lips. My hand slides up to rest on his shoulder, my arm draped around his neck, and he pulls me against his body with one hot hand on the small of my back, holding tightly as he moans again.

His tongue slides sensually against mine, tearing every last coherent though to shreds, and all my questions regarding his past actions dissipate from my mind, all confusion forgotten completely in the heat of his intimate embrace. Our mouthes separate, leaving us both breathless, and he gazes down into my eyes, his smouldering with reined-in desire.

Pulling away, but keeping his hands curled around my waist, his eyes grow wider as he drinks in the sight of my dress. It's honestly a stunning gown, the rich colour of thick blood, and the tight-fitting, strapless bodice is decorated by a layer of delicate, intertwining black lace. Flowing outward from the narrow waist, the skirt hem swirls around my bare ankles.

He towers over me, tall and lean, with broad shoulders, even with two inches of added height from my sleek, black satin pumps. His razor-sharp, three-piece black suit and tie is fitted to his beanpole-variety build so well, it could have been sewn onto his body, and a flecked black and white scarf is hung around his neck as the final touch to a dashing ensemble.
"You look..." Loki trails off, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.
"Silly?" I suggest, my cheeks burning self-consciously as his eyes rake over me.
"Stunning." He breathes, causing my blush to intensify, as a small smile creeps slowly across his enticing pink lips. He offers me his arm, and I take it, slipping mine through and laying my other hand in the crook of his elbow.

His warm breath tickles my neck as he leans in closer. "You look ravishing, my love. Although, I must confess, I can hardly wait to tear that dress off your body the second we return from the ball."
A flush of heat spreads throughout my body at his whispered words, and the husky, sensual tone of his low voice causes my pulse to pick up in pace.
He smirks triumphantly, and leads me from the room, the set of towering, intricately engraved double doors swinging wide open to allow us passage to the ball room.