Tom Holland Gay Oneshots

1. Want Me (Tom's POV)

DESCRIPTION: Tom, in his third year of college, picks up his friend Skye—who is massively drunk—from a party. On the drive home, Tom tries to keep his feelings for Skye under wraps, only to discover that Skye might feel the same way. Or is it only the alcohol?

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS:

-alcohol

-light sexual talk

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I knock on the apartment door labeled 202, hoping I went to the right place. The door swings open and a short girl stands before me.

"Tom?" she inquires.

I nod my head.

"I'm Elizabeth. It's so nice to finally meet you!" she exclaims stepping aside to let me in. "Skye doesn't shut up about you." She leads me down a short hallway into the living room and then motions at the floor. "There he is."

And there's Skye, drunk off his ass, stretched out on the carpet, staring at the ceiling, his arms and legs extended outward like a star.

I chuckle. "Hey, Skye."

He sits up quickly. "TOOOOOM!"

The other two people in the room—clearly less drunk than Skye—look up at me.

"Tom," Skye says, slurring a little bit, "this is Elizabeth and Jacob and Molly.

"Hi," I say with an awkward wave.

"Hey!"

"Nice to meet you!"

"Are you read to go, Skye?" I ask.

He holds out his hands to me. I walk forward and take them, trying to ignore how soft they are, and start to pull him up.

"No, no, no," he protests. "Don't pick me up! You come down here."

I let him pull me to the floor and sit next to him.

"Lay back." He pushes me slowly down onto the ground so that I'm lying flat on my back. Then he lays next to me and wraps himself around me, placing an arm over my chest and his head on my shoulder.

My breath hitches as I try not to think about all the times I've imagined us actually sleeping together like this.

"See," he whispers, "we could just sleep here like this."

"I have classes tomorrow, Skye."

"Laaaaaame."

He puts a finger to my lips and starts to run it along them slowly, like he's mesmerized. I let him continue for a few long moments until a certain something of mine starts to harden involuntarily. Then I shoot up like a rocket.

"Let's go, Skye," I say, starting to pull him to his feet.

"Wait, wait, get my pumpkin."

"Your what?"

"We carved pumpkins," Elizabeth explains.

She leads us out the screen door onto a small balcony where there are four pumpkins lit in the dark night with candles.

"Guess which one is mine," Skye says.

"Without a doubt it's this one." I point to the one of the mask from The Phantom of The Opera.

"How did you know?!"

"Cause we're best friends, Skye," I chuckle at his shock. "I know you too well."