So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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You hurried the door open and stumbled into the flat. Tom was holding you, kissing your neck, walking you backwards into the living room. Somehow your shirts had already come off. Your heels hit something on the floor and you almost fell backwards. Tom gripped you tighter, setting you back on your feet.
"What the fuck..." you turned to see what it was then closed your mouth. A suitcase, a big one. Not his normal black travel bag. You could fit your entire life in this one. Just like I did with mine, you thought.
"You're already packed," you said, barely audible. It was a statement masking a question. His luggage tag was even on it, with his old address. Like he was never here.
"Mostly," he replied. And that's all he said and you both just stood there, looking at the suitcase. Like it was an exhibit in some modern art museum.
You felt your hand close around his, not even consciously doing so. It was reactive. Like you needed something to hold onto because you felt the ground falter beneath you, and all you could do was reach out for something to save you.
But he did save you, didn't he?
"It's suddenly real," you said, taking a deep breath. The air was beginning to feel really thin. Keep it together keep it together keep it together.
He didn't say anything, just laced his fingers around yours, his thumb caressing your palm soothingly.
After a minute, he spoke.
"If your boobs weren't so big, we could try to fit you in there too."
You closed your eyes slowly and felt your lips turn up. There goes Tom, in for the save, finishing this round of woe-is-me with a real zinger. You loved him for it. Because in the end, Tom always managed to put a smile on your face.
"If your dick wasn't so small maybe you wouldn't have to overcompensate with such a big suitcase," you smirked, eyes still on the luggage.
You saw his jaw drop out of the corner of your eye and his hands flung to his hips.
"How dare you!" he gasped in British.
Your shoulders started shaking and you howled with laughter, holding your stomach.
"You gotta admit," you said backing away because suddenly Tom was coming at you, "that was a good one."
"Yes, darling, you're so fucking clever," he said patronizingly while grabbing you by the waist and walking you backwards again.
"Well, I am highly educated," you agreed in a snobbish tone, wrapping your arms around his neck. Backwards backwards backwards.
Tom raised his eyebrows knowingly.
"Yes I know. Dr. Holland, was it?" he said, smiling.
Your smile left your face and you stopped. Why would he bring that up again? That was not cool. He was supposed to forget about that.
His face turned serious and he brought your hand up, kissing it.
He peered at you through those loose curls that always seemed to hang wildly over his brow, no matter how hard he tried to tame them. His lips were still pressed against your hand and his eyes shone with devotion.
"Someday," he said.
"What do you-" you began but he hushed you with his mouth and somehow you forgot what you were going to say.
Tom kissed you, standing there, with his hands on your face and yours on his chest. And something washed over you and filled you with warm understanding. He was yours, no matter where he was, no matter how long he was gone, he was always going to be your Tom. He was always going to come back to you because this was home to him, you were home to him. And home is something you always come back to.
You pulled him to you, kissing him so longingly. All the things you wanted to say couldn't be spoken. They could only be felt. So you did some feeling and drew him onto the bed with you, stripping each other of any clothing that was left until finally you were entwined in each other.
Tom took his time with you seemingly savoring every inch of you. He was tender and rough, sweet and savage. All the Toms you loved taking turns to assure you that he was indeed yours.
Then when your passion was at its peak, and Tom's stormy eyes were on you, that understanding returned, and you knew, without a doubt, that you were going to be fine.
