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You can’t believe you’re here. Finally! You’ve waited your whole life to come to London and see all of the things that you have dreamed of. It was your third day in this gorgeous city and today you were spending the day with Shakespeare. You had mapped out some destinations and were currently taking the tour at the replica Globe Theater. It really was a dream come true.
The tour ends and you find yourself standing in the middle of the yard. People are milling around you, but you are just standing there in awe. Looking up, you gaze in wonder at the middle and upper galleries that surround you. You know that this isn’t the original stage that the productions were originally performed on, but you can’t help but be astounded just the same.
You take out your camera and head over to the gallery. You want a close up of the rough, unfinished wooden beams with the stage in the background to blow up and put on your living room wall. You start snapping pictures, moving to catch the good light coming from the open ceiling of the theater, stopping occasionally to check out the results on the screen. You lose yourself in the moment, focusing only on catching exactly the right photo. You shoot for about 10 minutes and then grab a seat on one of the benches, pulling off your backpack and setting it between your feet.
“Get the shot you were looking for, love?” a voice says from just behind your bent head.
You jump and scream. The crowd of people still wandering about in the yard stops and looks at you before going back to their own agendas. You turn and find yourself staring at the ridiculously attractive face of Tom Hiddleston.
“My god!” you say. “You scared the hell out of me. I can’t believe I just screamed in the middle of the Globe. I’m mortified.” You bury your face in your hands.
“No, love, don’t be! Look, no one even remembers it happened. There isn’t one person here that is looking at us,” he says as he grips your hands and pulls them from your face.
Your eyes meet his and you can see he’s really concerned that he has upset you. He’s right though, what’s done is done and no one is paying a bit of attention to the two of you back here in the shadows. You shake off the lingering embarrassment that you feel and deal with the next problem. What do you say to the beautiful movie star currently sitting extremely close to you and holding your small hands in his large ones?
“I find that extremely hard to believe,” you tell him. “I’m sure everyone is looking at you. It’s not every day that you get to see a real live Shakespearean actor randomly at the Globe.”
“Ah…you recognized me then? So probably at this point using my vast knowledge of Shakespeare wouldn’t impress you then?” He smiles at you and your stomach drops.
“Yes, I recognized you, but I’m quite sure you can still impress me with Shakespeare. I hope it won’t sound creepy if I tell you that I saw Coriolanus three times at the theatre near my house?” you admit to him sheepishly.
“Never too much Shakespeare, love,” he replies. “I loved doing that production and I love that people who may have never seen Shakespeare saw it.”
You smile to yourself when he says this. You do love Shakespeare and that had been what drove you to the theatre to see the broadcast of the play. The first time. The next two times had been purely to see Tom’s performance…and his wet, bloody chest…and those ridiculous pants…and the outline of his body when he donned the Robe of Humility. If it was still showing, you’d probably go back and see I again. And again. You can feel yourself getting flush just thinking about all of that while the man is sitting a foot away from you.
He looks ridiculously good, of course. When does he not? You’ve always liked him best when he’s dressed casually and today is the epitome of that. Brown cowboy boots. Jeans that are just tight enough to show off his body but not too tight that it’s obscene. Blue t-shirt with a well worn leather jacket over it. Yeah, he looks amazing and his hair is natural, blond and curly, crazy all over his head. You need to stop this.
“So what brings you here today, Tom?” you ask him. “Surely you didn’t make the trip here just to scare the living daylights out of American tourists getting their Shakespeare fix?”
“I did not,” he replies shooting you yet another devastating smile. “That was just a pleasant side effect. I’m actually here because I had a meeting with the creative director about a play. I’ve been dying to do a production here.”
“That is so exciting!” you exclaim before you can help yourself. “That must be a dream come true for you!”
“Very much so!” he says. “I hope it all works out. Now how about you, love? What’s your name and how did you come to be spending the day in this wonderful place?”
You tell him your name and your reason for being in the Globe and in London at all. He seems genuinely interested when you tell him that you are an English teacher and have been saving for 2 years to afford this trip. The two of you begin discussing your teaching and your students and the time passes quickly. The subject moves on to a discussion of Shakespeare’s uses of metaphors and similes. Tom is extremely knowledgeable and you find yourself being more intellectually stimulated than you have in a long time. You ask him what his favorite metaphor in all of Shakespeare’s work is. He thinks for a moment and then says,
“Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hair upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale…”
You finish the line for him:
“Told by an idiot, full of sound and
signifying nothing.”
He beams at you.
“Macbeth,” you say. “My favorite as well. Have you ever done Macbeth? I think you’d be great in it once you’re a little bit older,” you say.
“On my dream list, love. Someday perhaps I shall do the Scottish Play. I hope you’ll come and see me when I do,” he looks down at you hopefully.
“Just try to keep me away,” you tell him with a smirk.
The conversation continues while the two of you discuss anything and everything under the sun. After awhile you notice that the light is changing. The sun is setting and the theatre is getting dark. You glance at your watch and find that it is almost 6pm.
“Tom, I seriously had the absolute best time talking to you,” you say to him as you get up off of the bench and grab your backpack, “but it’s getting late. I don’t know the area well enough to be wandering around alone after dark. It was an absolute pleasure meeting you.” You stick out your hand to shake his.
He jumps up, a look of concern on his face.
“You’re leaving?” he says. “But I haven’t had a chance to use all of my extensive knowledge of Shakespeare to impress you yet. At least let me walk you back to your hotel and perhaps I can impress you on the way.”
“Such a gentleman,” you reply. “How can I refuse?”
He offers you his arm and the two of you head toward the exit. Once outside, you tell him the name of your hotel and he turns in the proper direction. The conversation picks up just where it left off inside and you are amazed at how easy he is to talk to. At some point during the walk, your hand has moved from the crook or his elbow and you find our fingers entwined with his. It felt so absolutely natural that neither one of you even faltered in your conversation when it happened. You start to wonder if you should invite him up for tea. This was your dream vacation after all, might as well make as many of your fantasies come true as possible.
After a short while, you find that you’ve arrived outside of your hotel. Tom insists on seeing you to the door of your room. Once the two of you are inside the elevator the sexual tension becomes immediately apparent. When the doors open, you rush out and head to your room with Tom on your heels. You reach your room and turn to Tom to thank him for walking you all the way back to your room. He’s so close to you that you are practically in his arms when you turn. He bends and his lips are a whisper away from yours.
“Invite me in…” he whispers and you can feel his breathe on your face.
“Tom, would you like to come in?” you ask as you place your hands on his chest.
“So much,” he answers just before his lips meet yours.
He brings his hands up and frames your face with them. You lean back against the door and he leans into you, his full body pressing against yours. You can feel his cock hard against your stomach and you can feel yourself getting wet. Tom Hiddleston is hard for you and you haven’t even touched him. Is this all because you talked Shakespeare for a few hours? Incredible.
Your hands find their way to his neck and you bury your hands in the soft curls there. Tugging gently, you pull his head away from yours. You need to get him inside your room before you let him take you right here in the hallway.
“Inside,” you tell him as you turn away from him and slide your keycard. He wraps himself around you from the back and kisses the side of your neck. With him distracting you, it takes you three tries before you get the card to slide properly and the door opens into your room.
Once inside, he barely gives you time to take your backpack off of your shoulder before he’s on you again. Bending, he kisses your neck again, running his tongue over your collarbone to the v-neck of your tee shirt. Completely gone is the gentleman that you’ve spent the afternoon with. He’s been replaced by this wild, feral man that is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. It’s hot as hell, but slightly scary.
“Tom, wait, please,” you say pulling away from him. “I’m not complaining, believe me, but what just happened? You’ve shown no inclination towards even kissing me all afternoon and then you practically attack me when we get here.”
He looks down somewhat embarrassed before he starts to speak.
“I almost said that I don’t know what came over me but that’s not entirely true. I know exactly what it was, just not how to explain it to you.”
You move in front of him and grab his hands. Pulling him toward the end of the bed, you sit and pull him down next to you. He continues speaking.
“I was fascinated by you when I saw you taking those photos. I needed to know what you saw that all the others walked by without noticing. That was what initially attracted me to you, aside from your looks. Then it changed once we started talking. Your intelligence is astounding. Unsurprisingly, Shakespeare described it best when he said ‘Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.”
He looks at you with those big blue eyes and smiles. Your stomach drops.
“I’m surrounding everyday by vapid actresses who look for nothing more than a pretty face and a leg up. Actually having a conversation with someone that is interested in the same things that I am for once was just such an incredible turn on that I lost myself for a moment. I apologize unreservedly.”
“It’s quite alright,” you reply. “You have absolutely have no reason to apologize. You’ve successfully impressed me with your vast knowledge of all things Shakespeare. And I’m very much a sapiosexual, too.”
“Sapiosexual?” he questions, his eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on his face. “I don’t think I’ve heard that term before.”
“A sapiosexual is someone who finds intelligence the most sexually attractive feature of a person. The fact that someone’s mind is actually physically arousing,” you tell him. “And I’m guilty of it as well. That last quote that you gave me was A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by they way.”
You drop him a wink and that’s all of the encouragement that he needs. He lunges across the bed at you, pinning your hands above your head with one hand and running his thumbs across your lips with the other. He pulls down slightly and your mouth opens just enough for him to slip his tongue inside. You meet it with yours and arch your body toward his. He moans as your hips move and press your pelvis against his hard cock.
“Love, that’s not a good idea. You’ve got me so close. I don’t know if I’ve been this excited without taking my clothes off since I was a teenager,” he says as his lips move from yours to press kisses against the swell of your breasts. “Let me take care of you first.”
You nod and he releases your hands from above your head. Pushing your shirt down, he exposes your bra. Taking your breasts in his hands, he kneads them until your nipples are straining against the lace of your bra and you are panting. Pulling the cups down, he takes first one hard nipple, then the other between his lips, flicking the tips with his tongue .
His mouth moves lower, his tongue leaving a wet trail down your stomach until he reaches the edge of your jeans. He plants a kiss just above the button before undoing it then slowly slides down the zipper, leaving a kiss on each inch of exposed skin as he goes. Once the zipper is all the way down, Tom runs his tongue along the elastic of your panties. You moan. The anticipation is killing you.
“Tom, please!” you moan. “This is excruciating. I want you inside of me. I”m so wet.” You reach up and pull his hips toward yours.
“Love, I’m not going to last very long right now,” he says.
“Fuck, Tom, I don’t care. We can go again. Just please fuck me,” you beg.
“No need to beg, love,” he says with a smile. “I’d do just about anything to be inside of you right now.”
He pulls your pants off completely and then your underwear. You sit up and pull your shirt and bra the rest of the way off and toss them aside. Reaching for his belt, you undo it quickly. You need him inside of you now. Pulling his belt out, you brush your knuckles against the bulge in his black dress pants. He hisses between his teeth and pulls your face toward him. Your lips meet his and he’s like an animal. Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, he bites gently and you groan as you continue to fumble with his pants.
Finally you get them undone and he pushes them down over his slim hips and completely off before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He stands in front of you for a second looking down at your body with a hungry look in his eyes. It gives you the chance to look him over as well. You wouldn’t have thought it was possible but he’s even more gorgeous without clothes on. Your eyes travel over his body, most of which you’ve seen before in various movies and productions, and land on the one part of his body that has been hidden from the public. His cock is hard against his stomach as you run your hands over it and use it to pull him toward you.
You lie back on the bed and he settles himself between your spread legs, running his cock up and down your slit, wetting the tip with your juices, before plunging deep inside of you. You gasp as he fills you more than you’ve ever been before. He reaches between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to move slowly, so fucking slowly, in and out of your body. You start to writhe under him, hoping that it will coax him to fuck you harder, but he holds your hips down with your hands.
“Please stay still, love,” he says. “I’m so close that the slightest move on your part could send me tumbling over the edge without you. Let me do this my way. Next time I promise you can be in control.”
He smiles down at you and begins to rub your clit again as he moves his hips.
“God, Tom, that feels to fucking good,” you moan. “I won’t last long wither if you keep doing that.”
“Let go, darling. I can promise you that as soon as squeeze my cock with that gorgeous pussy, I’ll be right behind you,” he says through gritted teeth, never breaking his rhythm.
Hearing those words come out of his mouth is exactly what you need to hear. With a groan you clench down around him as your orgasm rocks your body. He stops rubbing your clit and takes your hips in his hands. Thrusting into you once, twice and then you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. He moans and collapses on top of you as he empties himself into you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as the two of you recover from your encounter. You smile at him when he lifts his head from your shoulder.
“Tom, that was incredible,” you tell him as you run your hands through his wild curls, damn from his exertion.
“It was too quick,” he says as he moves off of you and props himself up next to you on his elbow. “I’m so sorry.”
“Seriously, Tom?” you look at him like he’s crazy. “Are you actually apologizing to me for giving me an orgasm?”
You throw him a mock look of disappointment.
“You should seriously be ashamed of yourself. How dare you get me off?”
You push him onto his back and get on top of him.
“I guess you are just going to have to make it up to me somehow,” you tell him as you bend to kiss him. “I am in town for another 6 days.”