Riding My (t.h. x female reader)

Four - Chair - Alternate Version (T) *

5k, warnings: fluff, smut: masturbation (m)

author's note: this is the same content as the previous chapter, but it’s told from Tom’s pov. there are a lot of details that are different, namely his inner dialogue and the way he perceives the reader. enjoy! x

☆

The same morning — Late November

It’s been over an hour since he woke up and his mind keeps replaying the same scene over and over again. Your straightforward behavior last night was unusual, but you seemed perfectly fine with it and to be fair, neither of you was that drunk. You rarely were, anyway.

His arm is still slumped around your waist, a faint set of ant-like tingles going up and down his stretched muscles. You’d fallen asleep on him quite fast, on your side, your back to his chest, but you had shifted around enough in your sleep that you ended up all curled up into him. The top of your head is now tucked under his chin, your arms in the middle and one of your legs in between his. It’s a strange position, but it’s warm, so Tom lets it last for as long as he can.

You’re breathing into the hollow between his collar bones, hot and a little wet, but it’s soon over as you start to stir. He waits for you to wake up fully, feeling you inhale and look up as you croak out, “‘orning.”

“Goooood morning,” Tom sing-songs, mostly as a joke, bringing his hand to your face immediately to poke the tip of your nose. “Boop.”

“Nooooo,” you whine, adjusting the bedding around you until you’re lying on your side, face hidden into your pillow, which muffles your next words, “Don’t bring last night into a conversation so early in the morning.”

“You’re fine, I’m only joking,” he says, trying to sound complacent.

“It’s your fault,” you say, shifting so that you’re facing him again. He gapes at you pretty much at the same time. “You let me go around telling the guys their noses aren’t cute. What kind of friend — no, wait, actually, what kind of brother are you?”

“That shit was hilarious,” he taunts you, though he understands how self-conscious you must feel now after the stunt you pulled amongst your own friends. It’s not really something that will go by unnoticed, but his job is to comfort you, so he says, “But, hey, I’m sure they don’t really mind.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna have to face them today, aren’t I? I can’t even—”

“You’ll be fine, stop being so paranoid about it. They adore you and probably didn’t even care,” Tom interrupts with a small laugh, running his hand over your hair, fingers getting stuck on the loose ends. You stop fidgeting, but don’t look up, so he finishes his current of thought with your forehead on his shoulder. “If anything, you should be worried about facing me. You nearly jumped my bones last night, remember?”

“Oh noooo,” you practically sob, dragging your vowels and rolling away from him. He chases you until his front is perfectly slotted against your back, as you add, “I thought that had been a dream.”

“It seemed like it, but it’s all true.”

Tom feels that you get that he’s just teasing you about it, that he wouldn’t call you out on something like that with offense. As a joke, yes, but nothing else.