TOM'S POV:
The travel home felt like an eternity. I kept checking my phone after sending her a song; I just happen to hear it on the way home from the airport. I don't know if I scared her. I know we didn't leave together as I wanted; I was angry. I tried so desperately not to be, but I was disappointed, to say the least. I had to understand she had a life before our fantastic time together. As do I, it doesn't seem as complicated as she is making it out to be. But for her, it is. Thinking about it most of my travels back to London, she has such depth to her. She's been hurt, scared even. She made up a rule for herself never to get involved with an actor. I couldn't make it any clearer to her I am just a man who is so in love with a woman it's hard for him to breath. I felt anxious, not being with her. Tough guy, not so much, this one has got me bloody flustered and broken.
When I received her text, I was with the family for Christmas; I didn't have good reception. Though it did honestly make me cry, cry for her, cry for my heart. Cry that she felt this way about me and was being vulnerable in doing so. As soon as I was on route to filming with a new phone, I would find myself in a fuck! The phone only restores to before she was texting me. I bloody felt like I was going to vomit when I turned it on. I cussed until the sky turned grey. This was my only way of communicating with her. What will she think that I am not responding to?
What was I bloody thinking, not memorizing her phone number? But all the photographs I took of her, when she knew and when she didn't. Nothing offending, just beautiful poses of her sipping from a cup, or standing smoking out the terrace doors. I needed to speak to her; I was on an airplane to Ireland, we would be filming in remote areas. I fear my only choice is a manhunt. I must keep her a secret for now. I need to do it all on my own, but I am frightened she will turn away from me or be angry. I didn't send my signal fast enough.
I had never been so fucked up over a woman in the right way, but bad, bad bad, that we are now not together. As I have no lost communication with her. I am letting to much time get in between. She may just give up. A woman like Harlow doesn't like waiting; she wants actions, not just words. Completely understandable, and I was very committed to doing such. I will continue, but now how do I get her out of my mind? How do I work, without loosing thought to her? She, this relationship has become such an addiction to me. I fear the worst of withdrawals, just alone not being within her presence, within her mind, her soul, her body. I felt hyper, I felt wound up, and I couldn't calm down. I just wanted to hear her voice.
I wanted to be able to walk on to the set of this film and work so hard to get done and back to her. All I have are memories, fading scents, and photographs. I smoke cigarette after cigarette walking the dogs, thinking it would make me feel better. Calling and texting anyone I knew who knew her. Her office, why didn't I think of that call her office. Just as I did this leaving a message for her, I think her assistant thought I was balls sac bloody crazy, leaving a note for her with a pet name. Who now knows if she will even get the message.
That night as I headed to my hotel room, a woman initial offering to keep me company for the night—those that hang around the sets for hours in the rain, snow, sleet, and hail. Although I appreciate the dedication, non were my Harlow. A long a grueling day made for an even more grueling night, still no word, no call. I haven't heard her voice in over four days, and I feel as if I am going insane. I work out to keep myself occupied work out my frustration. But all I do is think of her. Think of her fingers grazing the skin on my face, or running through my hair, playing with my beard. The way she purred into my ear, oh bloody fuck, I can't even being to stop thinking how her hands felt on my chest, on my stomach, on my cock. Oh, how she worshipped my cock! How good it felt to be inside her wetness, how her wetness covered my face. The taste I can still imagine the sweetness of lapping her slit with my tongue until she would gush. I would open myself to get all of her nectar; it isn't to be wasted; it isn't to be rushed or forced; she is to be savored. The tautness of both entrances she allowed me to enter her; each one felt so good. Sex is sex, fucking is fucking, but making love to someone who is making love back to you, I wouldn't trade the feeling for any amount of money in the world. The only woman who has gotten me, emotionally and spiritually. Well, sexually, I was hooked from the first moment my tongue slide up and down her pearl, and when she fed me her nectar, I had never felt so nourished.
FUCK FUCK FUCK BLOODY shouting! Then slapping my face with my hands as I fall lying on the bed. Wondering do I just get on a plane, but I don't even know where she is if she is even at home or in the states. In this day and age, it's a click away from connecting with someone, and I am totally fucked from not being able to click and connect. I feel as if I am going to go out of my bloody fucking mind if I don't hear the voice for another day or another night. This love is so good together, but apart I have never hurt so much being away from someone. I can't be a little cunt about it, but I am. I think I could just cry from the anxiousness I am having not being about to reach her. To know if she is ok. How do I get through this film? I have to one way or another; I will find a way to reach her. I believe in fate, and I have hope. I'd simply rather die than loose hope for Harlow and me.
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You Feel Like a Dream (18+)
FanfictionTom Hardy Fan Fic I Do Not CONDONE cheating. This is purely nothing more then fantasy. No negative energy please. It's a STORY !!!! It is NOT real life!!!!!I live in my own Ivory Tower with magical adult themed fantasies....Tom Hardy just happens t...