Milk With Your Tea 2

It is the day that your boyfriend Tom Hiddleston has to leave on an early flight. You should be sleeping in bed, but you want to send him off right. Besides you still haven’t gotten revenge for that breakfast in bed.

Originally Posted On: TeamAONN.Com
Read The One Shot Prequel: Milk With Your Tea
Written by: Sil and Odogoo

Tom Hiddleston X Reader
NC-17 | Adult | Smut | Oral

Tom woke up early, looking down at you as you slept on his chest. He smiled seeing how you hadn’t moved from on top of him since you fell asleep there early that morning. Nor had his cock slipped from the encompassing warmth of your tight channel. He was hard again and ready to send you into paroxysms of bliss. He loved the look of abandoned pleasure you adopted each time you came undone from his efforts.

He sighed as he wound one hand into your hair, the other trailing from your shoulder to the delectable curve of your ass. It filled his large hand perfectly. He gave it a squeeze, eliciting a pleasant sigh from your lips, along with a tight contraction of your velvet sheath. Tom moaned and thrust up gently to reseat himself fully. He knew you had a sleep fuck fetish. You had begged him time and again, that if he returned from his run, or came in late from a plane flight, to fuck you in your sleep. You wanted to wake up to him burying himself inside you. While it was hot, he felt you couldn’t truly consent if you weren’t awake and aware. You had assured him it was okay, but he was too much the gentleman to take you up on it.

He lay there, as your pussy fluttered around him, encouraging him to thrust again, your body begging his for stimulation. He could feel your slick emerging as he weighed his options, looking over at the clock for a moment to see the time. He was conflicted. You had an overnight shift starting late in the afternoon that you would need your rest now to make it through. Yet, his flight out would leave hours prior to when you would wake up. If he decided to fuck you, you would awaken. You would insist on joining him in his morning run, followed by a shower that would, inevitably become steamy. Then you want to eat breakfast with him, downing your usual two cups of coffee, before his departure. Finally, you would drive him to the airport, concocting an excuse to go to the store, just to see him off, as by then, you would be fully awake, unable to find a way to resume your interrupted sleep, causing you to miss out on the much needed rest before your late night work.

Reluctantly, he pulled himself free. The whimper you made was heartbreaking. He nearly reconsidered, but instead made a light hushing noise, kissing you. He was grateful you were a heavy sleeper and exhausted from your early morning exertions, allowing him to roll you sideways so he could exit the bed. He tucked the blankets around you against the early morning chill. The view from the patio doors was breathtaking at this hour, providing a painted landscape of rolling, green hills dotted with trees bounded by city skyline of glinting glass-paned buildings reflecting the sunrise, but French doors weren’t good for holding in the heat.

Tom donned his favorite running outfit of well-worn sweats and a nearly see-through, tight t-shirt. While cool, the weather was just warm enough to allow him to skip the jacket. He put on a slightly battered cap, and decided to add a bit of spray to mask the scent built up by a night of mad, animalistic sex. He may appreciate the smell, but not everyone needed to know how he spent his evening. His phone and earbuds were the last things he grabbed on his way out the door to the park.

The weather was beautiful. His playlist kept him on pace as he made his way along the park trails, uphill and down, cutting around along the river before heading back up the other side of the hill. His long legs ate away at the familiar path, his lungs filled and emptied in time with the pounding of his feet on the sidewalk. He felt the welcome burn in his limbs as he worked out the lingering sleep. All worries and concerns should have been driven from his mind, allowing him to focus on the here and now. However, his thoughts kept wandering back to you, asleep in his bed, hair tussled, lips well-kissed, body thoroughly loved. He cut his run short, telling himself he wanted to get back in time to shower and eat, as well as take care of all the last minute checks to ensure he wasn’t forgetting anything. This flight wasn’t just a hop, skip, and jump back home should he leave without something important. The reality was, he already missed you and his flight hadn’t left yet.

You were still fast asleep, snuggling his pillow, when he arrived back home. As much as it hurt to leave you, he couldn’t ask you to give up your career to follow him from film set to film set. He may dream for you to do just that, but he would never ask for that sort of sacrifice. The temptation to crawl back into bed with you was hard to ignore. He took one last lingering glance, before grabbing a towel, and going into the guest bathroom to shower and shave. He would miss his scruff, but it had to go, his new role calling for impeccably clean cut.

His shower was quick and efficient without you to distract him. He packed his shaving kit and pulled on a pair of lounge pants before heading downstairs to cook breakfast. He didn’t go all out, making a quick version of full English knowing he would be hungry if he didn’t. He also steeped a small pot a tea, fixing himself one before digging into his breakfast, and making a second as he read the paper.

Awareness slowly seeped in as the bed next to you grew cold. You tried to burrow further under the covers, grabbing the nearest pillow to your front, but the light through the doors invaded behind your eyelids, further awakening you. Tom’s side of the bed was long abandoned to the chill air. You frowned, wondering how late it must be. You rose up on your elbows to squint at the bedside clock. You fumble around for your glasses, slipping them on to note the time. Though the sun was over the horizon, it was still early. You hoped Tom hadn’t left for the airport yet.

Quickly hopping out of bed, you stretch before descending the stairs. At the bottom you spy his luggage standing by the door, and break into a huge grin, knowing you hadn’t slept through his departure. You listen carefully to pinpoint where he might be and hear the telltale clink of spoon on stoneware. You quietly head toward the breakfast nook, where you suspect he has finished his breakfast and will be reading the daily.

You pause in the doorway, unnoticed by him as he sips from his cup, turning the page of the paper. He’s clad only in his pajama bottoms. You know if he stood up, they would hang low on his hips, showing off the deep v-cut along his pelvis. You picture the trail springy hairs leading from his navel down beneath his waistband. You imagine trailing your fingers over the ridged plane of his abdomen, licking across his flat nipples and feeling them harden under your tongue, and feeling the rasping of his stubble along your cheek as you seek out his lips for a deep kiss. You must have made a sound, because you’re shaken from your reverie by his sinful voice. “You should still be sleeping.”

“The bed was too empty,” you say to him, walking up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to kiss his cheek. “Besides you’ll be gone for a month at least. I don’t know when you’ll get to come home again. I want to send you off.”

“My heart,” he grumbles, “You need sleep so you aren’t dead at work. Please go back upstairs.”

You start to rub his neck, knowing your Tom loves how you work each knot in his long neck and brush your thumbs just under his ears. “This holiday you took was just what we needed, a little R&R before you head off for your next big film. Who knows, maybe this time all of our practicing will pay off. You’d like that.”

You are rewarded with a low growl from his throat as he shifts in his seat. Peeking over his shoulder, you see noticeable tenting in his pants. “You like the idea of me rounded with your child?” you ask. It isn’t a question you really need answered. He’s expressed that particular fantasy to you on more than one occasion.

As you work your magic on his neck, reducing him to butter under your skilled fingers, a wicked idea occurs to you. The opportunity is too good to pass up when you realize he’s drinking tea instead of coffee. Perhaps it’s time to serve your own dish of revenge to him, to get him back for the perfect breakfast and tea in bed he brought to you.

You lean down so your mouth is right next to his ear. Your breathe on it, causing the hairs on his neck to stand, and his cock to throb a bit more, as he fights the urge to become fully erect. “I love you, sweet Tom, and I’ll go back to bed after I get a drink of milk. Is that fair, baby?” you say, gently nipping his earlobe.

“Alright dear, a quick glass of milk, and I will tuck you back into bed.” He turns his head and kisses you. You smile against his lips, mischief on your mind, and you reach down and palm his semi hard cock. “Dear, that isn’t a glass of milk.”

You get on your knees looking up at him, already pulling down the zipper. “Oh I didn’t say a glass now did I, Thomas” you say with a wink. He swallows hard and puts down his paper.

You hear him growl, “Damn it all.” He was trying his best to be kind, and considerate, but with you teasing him in this way, stimulating him in this way, he can’t deny he wants it. You rub his thigh to try to get him to relax.

“Let me give you a good sendoff. Relax, read your paper, drink your tea. Let me suck this thick cock. Then it will be straight back to bed with me. Come on, Tom, what do you say?”

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