eloped.

Deleted Scene - Syrup for S*x

♡

You try not to smile into the bed covers, but it's impossible not to with the way Tom is talking with the hotel clerk who came up with your breakfast order. They're chatting animatedly about your stay at the hotel, the city and the weather and how it might be too cold to go to the beach today.

"We're British," Tom's voice says, "We're used to the cold. Thanks, mate." A few seconds later, the door closes. Perhaps a bit too quickly.

This might be the perfect opportunity to trick Tom into having breakfast in bed, but you also know how he gets. He's not picky about a lot of things, but threaten his sweet bed sheets with crumbs and it's like all hell breaks loose. Yet to be fair, with all the shenanigans you got up to yesterday and today's sunrise adventure, it might be wise to lower the crazy.

What's strange is that you don't hear the wheels of the hotel cart rolling down the short distance from the entrance to the table. There's silence and the light tap of Tom's feet. That much you can perceive, but soon you understand why.

It's when Tom steps back into the bedroom with a bottle of something in his hands.

"Oh, boy," you call out, raising your eyebrows curiously at his massive grin. "I thought you couldn't wait to get married today," you say as you finally decode what the bottle contains. He's spinning it in his hands as he approaches the bed with slow steps, and you can read the bold letters on the label. Syrup. Passion fruit flavored. Not your favorite, but it does feel quite fitting. "Are you trying to postpone it?"

"Hmmm, not exactly," Tom replies, resting one of his knees on the foot of the bed. There's enough pressure that the mattress dips under his weight, first only one leg, then the other one, and within a few seconds, he's kneeling at the level of your feet. "Just making sure you're satisfied enough so you won't back out at the last minute."

"And sex is the way to go?"

"I'm taking my chances," Tom notes humorously and hovers over you to pull back the covers. The air hits your skin as his eyes roam what he exposes, shaking the bottle vigorously with the other hand.

Once the covers are completely to the side, Tom grins and crawls on top of you, knees on either side of your left leg. He also holds the bottle over your belly, squeezing lightly until the syrup lands on you.

"I just showered, Tom," you point out as he smears it across your tummy. It's half of a complaint, but it soon turns into 90% of excitement because Tom leans forward and plants a kiss in between your collarbones.

"Don't worry, 've got you. I promise you won't be smelling like passion fruit after I'm done with you," he suggests, trailing his tongue down until he reaches your navel, clearly avoiding the syrup on purpose. "Just passion."

You laugh softly at his line. "That's so cheesy," you say, but it's partially cut off by a shuddering breath when he touches your hip.

"As if you don't like cheesy," he observes, but you have no willpower to reply because he's mouthing and sucking on your skin and everything you see is white.

♡