For the Love (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 39

A/N: Thank you all for your support.  And for your feedback.  I truly do love it, and it keeps me motivated.  I'm so sorry if I've ever missed your comment, or message.  I try hard to get to everyone, but I have been so busy lately.  Also, I know I have a ton of reading to catch up on, but I will be on break soon and will work on that.  I know the last few chapters have been heavy...and to be honest...there's more coming, but you are all awesome.  This chapter is a bit shorter.  Hang in there, I promise it'll pay off.  Or at least I hope it does.  ;)

Also, I basically listened to Bon Iver, and "Eyes Wide Open" by Gotye on repeat while writing this. lol

*Also, holy poop, For the Love just broke 100,000 reads.  How does that happen? I'm blown away.  I'm guessing at least 99,000 of those reads are just me...checking to see if it looks okay?  You are all the best. Thank you.

      It started pouring almost immediately after Tom left the bungalow.  It seemed fitting.  The doors to the deck were wide open, but Emie kept them open, watching the sheets of rain falling off the roof and onto the deck.  The sky outside was a dark gray, almost black.  Occasionally there was thunder, and a bit of lightning.  Water bounced off the deck and onto the floor by the doors, but she didn’t care. 
       She didn’t know what to do now.  She didn’t know where Tom had gone.  She looked around the bungalow, stepping gingerly over the glass cup that had shattered.  Her heart was racing, and she felt a panic attack was imminent unless she managed to calm herself down.  She took a moment and sat down, breathing deep and trying hard to focus.
       A lot of what she’d said had been the truth.  Her life with Tom would never be the same.  Sure, they would have always attracted attention, but now, they truly would be like some rare and exotic exhibit at a zoo.  And those pictures would surely follow her for the rest of her life.  What would Tom’s family think? How would it change his career? He was obviously on an upward trajectory, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he would be dragged down by being associated with a woman who clearly was only “looking for fame.”  Sure, people did it every day.  Celebrities dealt with fame, and whatever came along with it.  But she had a choice.  And was it the path that she wanted for her life?
       But she did love him.  She loved him with every fiber of her being.  And the thought of losing him tore her apart. She just wasn’t sure how to protect everything.  Find a way to protect her life, her livelihood.  Protect him, and his career.  And protect their life together.  Or what may have been a life together.
       Emie paced around the room, and knew she needed to do something to keep busy.  She grabbed some towels from the bathroom and began cleaning up the mess on the floor, picking up the larger pieces of glass first.  Her hands shook as she moved.  She hadn’t eaten that day, and she was most likely dehydrated.  She wasn’t sure what she should do next.  Should she leave? Go back to her own room? Would Tom want her there when he came back?
       She finished cleaning up the glass and then sunk down onto the bed, her whole body feeling wary and tired.  It felt as if her body were giving up. The stress and trauma of the day, all her emotions at full speed.  Emie curled onto the bed, pressing her face into the pillow that smelled so much of Tom.   The lull of the rain outside pulled her exhausted body into a deep, desperate sleep.
       She wasn’t totally sure how much time passed, but she woke up when she heard the bungalow door open and close.  The room was dark, and it was raining still.  The sky had turned black.  In the din of the room, she saw the clock showing it was nearly ten p.m.   It was unbelievable that the news they’d received that day had only come about fourteen hours earlier. It seemed like it had been days.  Tom had been gone for quite some time, at least an hour or two.  She sat up, her head feeling hazy, her body still weak.
       He came into the room a second later, his figure just a blur in the dark.  He didn’t say anything, but she could hear him.  He was breathing a bit heavy, and she could hear the wet squish of his shoes as he walked.  So he’d definitely been caught out in the storm, and judging by his breathing, he’d gone for a run.  As disconnected from him as she felt in that moment, she knew him still.  She knew his coping mechanisms.  Running was one of them.  She didn’t move off the bed, but just stayed still, watching him.  He didn’t say anything.
       Tom took his shoes off, dropping them on the floor with a wet, heavy thunk.  He stood across the room from her, his back to the bed.  She knew he knew she was there. He didn’t move, he just stood there, his hands on his narrow hips. Emie felt her heart start racing.  Was he going to say anything?  She silently moved off the bed, taking a few hesitant steps toward him.  She could see him better now, and could make out the details of him.  His clothes were soaked through, and he was dripping water on the floor.  His hair was also wet, pushed back from his face.
       She fought the urge to reach out and touch his arm and a second later he turned around as if sensing her.  She froze, her body tensing.  He stood silently, his hands still on his hips.  He wasn’t looking at her, but looking down.  She searched his face, trying desperately to understand what he was thinking.  She could see he was shaking slightly, and she wondered if he was cold.  Surely the weather, and the coolness in the bungalow weren’t helping.  She wanted to gather him in her arms, but she couldn’t.  She was terrified of what he’d do, how he’d react, how he’d reject her.
       “Tom?” Emie whispered.  He still didn’t say anything, but she saw a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say ‘No’.  As if to silence her.  As if her voice was both too much and not enough.  He dropped his arms to his sides, his hands balled tensely.  He looked defeated.
       “I’m going to take a shower.” He said softly, and then with that turned and went into the bathroom.  Emie felt her chin quiver, and fought the urge to cry.  She straightened her shoulders, and took a deep, shaky breath.  He had every right to hate her.  He had every right to be cold.  She knew she was breaking both their hearts.  She stayed in the same spot, unable to move.  How could something be the right decision if it felt so horrible? If she was doing the thing that was best for both of them, then why did she want to run crying and screaming into his arms? 
       Emie heard the shower turn on a second later.  He hadn’t shut the bathroom door, but she couldn’t see him from where she was standing.  Her heart was practically banging against her chest.  She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, or doing, but all she knew was that they had a few precious hours left together.  And she knew it was going to be absolute hell to walk away from him.
       She moved forward without thinking, letting her body go where it wanted.  It felt like second nature.  To want to be close to him.  The bathroom was already warm from the shower, though not steamy.  Tom hadn’t turned on any lights, so the room was practically dark.  The shower, with it’s seamless glass walls, was cloudy white with steam.  She could make out his form, standing directly under the spray of the water.  Through the steam, she saw his lean, muscular legs. He had his face under the water, and his back partially turned to her.  Emie swallowed hard, and walked to the shower door. 
       Without saying anything, she opened the door, steam billowing out around her.  She didn’t wait to be invited, or wait for his reaction, she just stepped quickly into the shower and shut the door behind her with a soft click. 
       Tom turned around slowly, and when Emie saw the look in his eye she almost took a step back.  His blue eyes were filled with emotion.  Hurt, confusion, anger, total and complete sadness.  Emie forced herself to stay put, not to run away.  She took only a brief second and let her eyes drift over him.  He stood naked before her, looking a bit like some kind of god.  Water rivulets ran over his toned chest, down to his narrow hips.  She forced herself to look lower, feeling herself flush with heat, and bite her lip unknowingly.  He stood with his feet wide, his stance open and aggressive.  Tom took a step toward her, out of the spray of the shower and closed the space between them. 
       His hands went to her forearms, gripping her tightly as he pulled her toward him.  In an instant, they crashed together.  Emie’s hands ran frantically, desperately, up his arms and over his shoulders and broad chest.  Tom’s hands were rough against her, pushing her clothes to the side and recklessly trying to get them off her.  She was instantly soaked by the water, and her clothes clung to her, like a second skin.  Tom’s mouth was all over, trailing down her neck and over the thin, translucent material covering her breasts.  His lips clamped around her nipple, and she felt his teeth and tongue pushing against the fine cotton.  She gasped, her head falling back.  She grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into him.  He groaned, taking more of her sensitive skin in his mouth, sucking and nipping.   His hands pushed up her sides, grabbing at her shirt, trying desperately to get it off her.  It stuck to her, making it hard to remove easily. 
       Tom let out a low, frustrated growl and reached up to the neckline of the shirt, ripping it easily down the front with one tug.  Emie gasped, but she found herself back on him, her arms around his neck, her lips biting ferociously at his.  Tom’s mouth against hers was hard and aggressive.  They were locked in a kiss that was deep, and intense, and Emie wasn’t sure where he started and she ended.  They barely moved for a second, their bodies entwined, their mouths pressed and locked onto each other.  They merely swayed, just slightly, tightly wound around each other.  She grabbed the hair at the back of his head, holding on for dear life.  He had one hand under her left knee, lifting it up so it was by his hip.  The other hand was at her face, holding her to him.  
       Emie whimpered softly, feeling the hard length of him press against her stomach.  Tom’s hands were suddenly at her shorts, pushing them roughly down over her hips, taking her panties with them.  She stepped out of them, and shivered despite the hot water, as Tom pressed the length of his body against hers.  The skin on skin contact was almost too much, though she was only allowed to revel in it for a short moment.  Tom stepped away, and then grabbed her by the hips and then quickly under her thighs, hoisting her up.  Emie gripped his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.  It seemed impossibly fast, but he was suddenly sliding inside her, and she was more than ready.  Emie cried out, pressed her face into his shoulder and then biting down.  Tom murmured something nearly incoherent into her ear, and then they were moving.  Tom pressed Emie’s back up against the cool, slick wall of the shower, giving her leverage.  Emie held on to him, trying not to completely lose her mind at the amazing, indescribable feeling that only Tom seemed able to give her.  She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t talk.  It was only him.  It was only them.
       The hot water cascaded down, over Tom’s back and between their bodies.  Emie took in the sight of the muscles bulging in Tom’s arms as he held her up, both moving her and thrusting.  She felt like she was going to pass out, it was all too much. 
       “Tom.” She cried, taking deep, raspy breaths. “Please.” She wasn’t making sense, but it didn’t seem to matter.  He knew what she wanted.  Her voice sounded foreign, high pitched and breathless. Tom kissed her, sloppy and rough as he moved in and out, making Emie’s whole body light on fire.  She could feel the power of him.  Both their emotions were wrapped so tightly in one another.  She felt the sweet, aching unraveling of her orgasm start in the pit of her stomach.  It didn’t take much longer, once she was there.  The feel of Tom’s arms around her, the pulsing, uncompromising way he was moving against her. 
       Emie felt her whole body nearly seize up, and she grabbed onto him.  She cried out, her body pulsing and shaking around his.  It moved from her hips, down her legs to her toes, and rushed up the entire length of her body, rolling in a crashing wave up her spine and to her arms and fingertips.  Tom groaned as he felt her orgasm, sending him over the edge.  He thrusted hard into her as he came, his arms crushingly tight around her.  Emie felt one of her legs slip from his grasp, and he lowered her, very gently toward the floor.   Her legs felt like jelly, and she nearly collapsed when her foot touched the ground.  Tom grabbed her, pressing them both against the shower wall, resting their wary, shaking bodies.
       “Easy, now.” He said softly, his voice calm and a bit breathless as well.  Emie pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes.  She put her hands on his chest, fighting the urge to both pull him to her and push him entirely away.  Emotions consumed her, blanketing her like a thick cloud, suffocating her.  She felt tears burn the backs of her eyes, and her chest felt heavy.
       “Tom.” She sobbed, her voice coming out strained.  He didn’t hesitate, gathering her in his arms, bending his strong legs and pulling her into his chest.  She couldn’t do anything but give in, feeling broken and empty. 
       “Em,” He breathed.  She didn’t open her eyes, she didn’t want to see his face.  She didn’t want to see how much she was hurting him.  She could hardly stand it.
       “Please, please, forgive me.” She cried, feeling the tears force their way from her eyes.  Tom let out a soft, wracked cry.  He buried his face into her neck, and they stood there for some time with the rapidly cooling water pounding down on them, their tears indistinguishable from the water.