Fantasy and Putts - t.h. series [18+]

Meta-Fore of Love - part three *

words » 17.3k

warnings » Tom is tired and indisposed from his trip ; light angst and jealousy filling the air ; smut: angry making out in a maintenance closet, angry sex in the living room, possessive!Tom behaviour, fingering, mouth fucking, butt slapping, pussy slapping

~ ⛳️ ~

The glass is littered with the millions of drops of rain that have poured throughout the day. The clouds have only grown darker and darker as the hours went by. Right now, they're painted of a dreary gray as you eat pieces of dry fruit with a grumpy pout on your face.

You're sitting in the armchair by the big window to the balcony, watching the last rays of daylight filter through a rift in the clouds. There wasn't much you could do all day given that any outdoor activity was as doomed as the weather. Aside from leaving the flat in a heavy windbreaker to go to the job interview at the Toasty Den — which was postponed a day at the request of Mr. Crawford, the manager of the pub, but you think it went alright enough — you've been sulking from boredom. It was one of those days again, when you want to do something so bad but have no disposition to decide what or where or how, so you've been moving from seat to seat trying to keep your head empty and prevent the crumbling of your mood.

With a sigh, you cross your arms over your chest and try to cross your legs without the empty bowl on your lap falling to the floor. You must have eaten at least a dozen bowls of veggie sticks and fruit as you had zero patience to cook today, but you're officially full by now.

Your ears perk up when you hear something that resembles the lock on the front door. It's almost too bad it doesn't creak when it opens, but you let your heart pick up its pace at the sound of a voice coming inside.

"Seems like we came back to an empty flat, bro."

That's Tom, of that you have no doubt, so you uncross your legs and get up from the chair in one go. The bowl drops to the floor when you move. You don't even bother to put on your slippers as you bolt towards the door.

"Hey!" you greet him, unbothered to hide the big grin that nearly rips your face into two. You had a feeling that half of your mood was due to the fact that Tom was about to come home and you'd had no sign of him for hours.

"There she is," he says, carelessly putting down the shoulder bag he's holding and taking a step further.

There's a millisecond where neither of you moves, probably in fear of crashing into one another, but with a childish little jump, you finally wrap your arms around him. You don't even bother to contain your excitement. It was a horrid rainy day and this little ray of happiness was finally due, so you let him twirl you into his arms and accept his welcome-me-home kiss. Your forehead bumps against the cap he's wearing, and your lips don't really line up, but with a small tilt of your head to the side and a small tug on his hat, you kiss him fully on the mouth and welcome the taste of spearmint you haven't inhaled in so many days.

"Thanks, no worries, we got this," Harry says dryly from somewhere outside the flat. Seconds later, he comes in dragging Tom's luggage with his twin brother Sam in tow.

"Sorry, twins," you mutter after a quick peck on Tom's lips. He squeezes you into his side before letting go as you move the bags to the side and welcome them inside with big hugs, too.

While they lock the door, you turn to Tom. He's still stuck in the very same spot, gazing at you with an odd speck of anticipation on his face.

"What?" you ask, standing there with both hands holding his bags so he doesn't have to carry them inside after a long flight.

Tom smiles and grabs the bill of his cap. With a small breath, he removes it and throws it onto the shoe rack against the wall. You focus on that movement for no reason, but when you look back at Tom, he's got a cocky smirk and still the same look of anticipation.