Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tom is gutted.

He has a friend he can talk to, but Kai is really more of a “get a beer and tell you all women are cunts” kind of guy, and not someone you can process life changing sadness with.
Kai would just be saying “I told you so” over and over and Tom’s tired of getting in fist fights with his only surfer buddy.

Shirley says he can stay to work all winter as she’d promised, but she needs to find a second caretaker. And she still only wants the one trailer open, so he’s going to have to share it...probably with Kai. Kai will plaster the walls with soft-core porn mag women. He always cuts off their heads and its fucking-disturbing.

Tom keeps thinking about how it was supposed to be, just him and Ruth and a romantic winter in Cornwall. What he’d planned for Christmas... But Ruth has moved on, she’s with Jade and they've gone to make lesbian wigs together or something.

Shirley calls him on the radio. “Tom, can you come back to base, please?”
“Dreckly” Tom answers.

He wonders if it's another Old Lady April emergency - she keeps wandering off. Everyone knows they are gonna find her dead in a sand dune one of these days and it’s bloody tragic.

He opens the door to Shirley’s without knocking since it might be an emergency, which he knows she hates.
But Shirley’s sitting there having tea with… some maid. Cor - she is fit.
Long thick wavy red hair like a mermaid. She’s wearing an cream colored corduroy jumpsuit that is folded up on her tanned calves and arms, unbuttoned to show off a Rip Curl tank top and a nice view of cleavage, and she has on faded yellow converse and an ankle bracelet with a dolphin charm.

Tom adjusts the company polo, which only comes in size Too fucking Large unless you are Kai.

The girl is standing, because Shirley is so awkward and never remembers to ask if people want to sit down.

“Ah Tom, This is Meg, she’s come about the open position for the winter. Would you take her on a tour and show her the ropes for me, there's a love.”

“Alright?” Tom starts to lead Meg out to the rentals.

“Thank you, Tom” American? Or Canadian, the accent hits the ear hard. Tom looks at her queer
her... blue or are they grey? eyes staring back boldly.

“You're a far ways from home, aren’t ya?”

“I’m an ex-pat, yeah. I felt like I couldn’t stay when things got all fascist you know, out in the open fascist that is.” All of her ‘a”s are pronounced thin and flat.

“You surf?”

“A bit, yeah.” She’s still smiling but it isn’t reaching her eyes. Tom figures this is the look of someone who doesn’t want surfing man-splained to her and switches topics.

“This job, it's not bad you know, but Shirley doesn’t want to have more than one staff trailer open. Did she not tell you that?”

“She mentioned it. She said she normally hires a couple and I’d need to share with you. You can have the bedroom, I can sleep anywhere, so I’m happy on the couch or whatever.”

---
Meg thinks Tom is an absolute snack.
Honestly, if she’d known, she might not have come. What good can it do her to have to share a van with someone this hot.
He said “Ya Surf?” and she knew she was in trouble... She’s now imagined him in a wet suit, zipped down, hair dripping, slow motion. It might help if she took a running leap into the frigid waves right now, for her own sanity.

She’d needed a change of pace, and her surf buddies told her Cornwall was chill. Just a whole better vibe than being in London after a bad break up.

It smelled better for sure. She wanted to stand in the breeze and smell the salt on the sea. Hold Tom’s hand. Pretend she’s a real gremmie and ask him for surf lessons.
God. Get it together, Meg.

He was showing her the trailers that had been fumigated and will need to be wiped down and then re-dressed with the soft furnishings that had been bagged. She thinks he’s saying that the fumigation company doesn’t always get all the plastic off the exterior so they need to be thorough... its hard to concentrate on his words but she’s taking notes.

He is pretty quiet and when he talks his accent is thick, mumbled, sounds Yorkshire or Nottinghamshire or something, Its not full on Cornish. Meg’s ear for accents is not well tuned, and it is primarily driven by desire. Please do keep telling me these banal details, they somehow sound sexy when you say them and all your ‘a’s are “awe’s.

“It’s a lawt of worhk , it’s nawt a holiday.” He is telling her and his eyes are sad. Bereft.

“That’s ok, I need to keep busy.” Meg tells him. So tempting to tell him she’s getting over a break up and is so very single right now, ‘alrawt?’ But she knows better, she can’t risk this job, she doesn’t have another job lined up. And the surfing will be good here. She will just keep it in her pants and everything will be fine.

Tom shows her the laundry building, storage (he picked up extra blankets and sheets there), the workshop. And then the arcade in the boardwalk but only from a distance.

“You wahnna see the trailer?”

“Yeah, it'd be nice to put my bag down.”

“Is thawt all you hawve?”

“Travel light, that’s me. I've got a package coming with my fullsuit and more winter gear.”

Chapter Text

'It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine! She’s not going to be interested in me and I can let her have the bedroom, I’ve got some new blankets for the couch and I’ll not be remembering Ruth in the bed every night anymore. I’m easy to work with and she seems friendly enough. And I’ll just jerk it in the shower and it’ll be fine. ' Tom's feeling like he's in the wrong part of the sea and can't get to the waves, but he's talking himself down from it.

Tom gestures for Meg to go in to the van first and realizes it was probably so he could check out her bum, and not out of good manners.

Meg pushes through the beaded curtain and lays her bag down on the couch.

“You should take the bedroom, it has a door.” Tom blurts out.

“I can’t, I’ll feel so bad, it’s your house and I’m invading.”

“Won’t take no for an answer.” Tom says gruffly, grabs and tosses her bag into the bedroom. It opens, and a t shirt and some lace underwear spill out on the floor.

“We can play catch down the hall if we get bored, that’s nice.” Meg says flatly, an odd look on her face.

“Sorry, I…” what’s happening with me, Tom thinks. And why is there so much lingerie in her small travel bag?

She moves past Tom and starts putting the things back in her bag.

“We could take turns?” Meg says. “Swap beds every other night?”

“Ok” Tom agrees if only to end the discussion. To turn away but not fast enough, and he sees a pink and black lace something in Meg’s hands.

“Well, I’m here for a trial period for now, we’ll sort it out.”

The sun is setting. Tom looks out the window at the sea.

“Is it safe to walk on the beach at night?” Meg asks.

“Not very. Not alone. Not when you don’t know the land.”

“Come with me?”

“Alright.”

Tom grabs a jacket and leads Meg out on the dunes. They walk side by side, Tom stays close in case she’ll stumble because the sands shift and there are fox dens and harvest mice nests to trip on on the more solid ground. Tom helps her over the rough patches and resists the urge to keep her hand in his.

Meg shivers and Tom doesn’t hesitate to offer his jacket. When she smiles at him he looks down at his feet.

Tom takes Meg to his favorite part of the beach, the highest point, the best view.

“It’s so beautiful here” Meg sighs.
Meg looks fae and ethereal in the moonlight and Tom wishes he could kiss her.

Tom shivers and Meg turns to him. “Let’s head back. Have supper?”

Meg made Chili and it was delicious but spicier than Tom expected. He drank some stout to try and drown the spice. It's all too...spicy.

——
Tom’s jacket smelled lovely. Whatever he is using for soap?, shampoo?, deodorant?, aftershave?, his sweat?? Its great. Meg thinks she wasn’t obviously smelling the jacket like a spaz? She hopes.

And the view knocked her silly, she could have kissed him there and laid down in the sand with him and … oh so many things. So she suggested heading back before she did something foolish.

He liked her vegan chili and had two helpings. He had a good beer, it said “Dynamite Valley Black Charge Stout “ on the label, and she drank too much of it, she was sure. Headaches in the forecast tomorrow.

Tom has a VCR and a few movies. Meg asks if they can watch Conan the Barbarian and Tom smiles. This is the first time she’s seen an honest to god smile on his face and it transforms him into a deity. He looks like Apollo and Megs heart does a somersault.

They sit on the couch with room for another person between them, much to Meg's disappointment. The couch is also less comfy than she had hoped. But she can deal with it - nothing a few pillows couldn’t help.

By the time Conan’s meeting Valeria she’s falling asleep. Meg’s head falls to Tom's shoulder and it wakes her up with a start.

“Tired, ya? Take the bed.”

Chapter Text

“There is another solution…” Meg walks down the hallway — takes the extra pillows and lays them down the middle of the bed. “There. that will keep you safe.”

Tom bites his lower lip. “I’m not worried about me.”

“I’m not worried, either.” Meg takes her bag into the bathroom, brushes her teeth, loosely braids her hair, puts on a cropped tank top and shorts to sleep in.

When she comes out Tom is laying on one side of the bed. Curled up, eyes shut tight. Meg got in on the other side. Curled away from each other. Close enough to hear breathing, feel some heat.

It would be so nice to lay her head on his chest.
This is not going to work.

—-

Tom waits until her breathing slows. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, thinks about Meg in the moonlight, Meg in her tiny pj's, Meg surfing (what does she do with all that hair), Meg and her lace underthings, Meg in his bed - he gets himself off quietly then goes back to sleep beside the pillow wall she built.

He wakes up with the sunlight pouring in. Meg’s leg is wrapped over the pillows and her foot is on his hip. Her toenails are painted a light pink. The ankle bracelet glints in a sunbeam. He hovers his hand above it. He imagines touching her leg, starting from her ankle up to her thigh.
Meg sighs or moans, some kind of sleepy sound and the leg retreats.

Tom can’t go back to sleep now, but he slept pretty well last night. First sleep with No nightmares about Ruth dumping him in weeks. Even though he usually sprawls out the full length of the bed, Tom felt more comfortable knowing there was someone close by.

Sometimes the noises from the park are creepy, or the fox kits are being loud about leaving their Mums, and soon it will be mating season and they’ll be loud again, and it was nice having someone there.

Tom picks up the pillow between their heads to look at her, sleeping. But she is not - and she catches him. Their eyes lock. Tom drops the pillow and rolls onto his stomach burying his face in the bed.

Meg says “Do you wanna use the shower first, or...?”

Tom rolls on his side. Is she not the least bit bothered?
“No, you go’head” He says into the pillow.
Is she not even a bit worried? Tom doesn’t want to be a... threat, but he is a... man. Kai would have probably tried something - would definitely have said something crude to get a reaction. ‘Maybe she doesn’t see me as a sexual... maybe she is a lesbian too? Are all the women lesbians!? Do they get within a certain distance of me and turn gay??’

Meg sits up. “Did you sleep ok?” She’s looking at him and un-braiding her hair.

“Yeah, I slept fine.” His voice sounds terse, angry in his ears. He tries to soften it. “Did you?”

“Really well. Considering. New bed, different sounds, not being alone.” She stood up and Tom sees she has a small tattoo (three fingers wide, probably) on the back of one thigh - an intricate moon shaped wave.

“I’m glad '' Tom sits up and tugs on his shirt, which has twisted around him in his sleep. “ I didn’t want you to worry that I’d molest you in your sleep or sommat.” He immediately wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth. Probably sounded really creepy. Why can’t he just be cool, for once, pretend he didn’t want women, like Kai? Granted Kai’s “treat ‘em mean keep ‘em keen” style didn’t get him laid, either.

Meg looks at him, she is about to pull the shower door closed, and she’s resting her head on the door frame. “It’s only molesting if one of us isn’t into it.” And then she is gone, showering, which means naked and out of reach.

Tom lets his head fall back on the bed and lets that whole thought marinate.

---
I don’t know what just happened. Meg thinks, Maybe nothing? Better to just pretend it was nothing. Not a big deal. “molest”...me.... Hah! If he had tried something I would have been willing and eager.

There are mirrors in this van - so he should be constantly reminded that he is a hottie, it was a mystery why he was not with someone. Someone who would be very angry about this whole sleeping situation, that is, if she knew... if he knew... Was he gay?

His shirt had ridden up in his sleep and she had seen his stomach. Unf.
He had a little necklace on.
His sheets smelled good too, just like his jacket - maybe it was the detergent from the park laundry, but she didn’t think so.
She knew pheromones were a real thing. Pheromones and chemistry and excessively pretty surfer boys with thick accents didn’t need those things. It was over-egging the whole pretty surfer boy pudding, really.

She could stay in the shower for a while longer and have a good long Think about Tom, but he might wonder why she was using up all the hot water. He might suspect what she was up to? And it was always so hard to be quiet.

She got dressed in the work polo from Shirley and her board shorts. Put her hair in a high messy bun. The work shirt was oversized, Shirley just bought 2xls for everyone. One size fits almost no one. Meg tied the bottom in a knot.

Tom was in the kitchen, and there was cereal and milk on the table, but he was also frying some eggs. Meg’s legs want to go out from under her.

“How do you like your eggs?” Tom asks. Or at least Meg hears “how" and "eggs” in the sexy muddle that Meg perceives as his speech pattern.

“Every way. I haven’t had them in 2 years - I’ve been living in London in this vegan cooperative. And I miss eggs and you’re lovely.”

Tom laughs. “That chili was vegan last night, yah? Pretty good considering.”

“Well, I’d never make you something that I didn’t think was Pretty good.” Meg isn’t sure if she is challenging him or flirting. Probably both. The eggs are being fried in real butter and he’s making toast too. And there is marmalade on the table.

Oh yummm

Meg pulls out a notebook. “Is there a calendar or guide for when the different tasks need to be done? Shirley didn’t think so.”
“No, not really, I just sorta know it all by now.” Tom taps his temple, looks at her. He plates the eggs and toast and puts it down for them on the table - hers next to her notebook.

It's a grid style notebook and she’s made columns for each week of the Winter closed months for the park. Meg writes a few tasks down in rows, putting a note for the due date. Tom’s looking at the notebook curiously while Meg is eating butter for the first time in two years and enjoying it too much.
And he licks his fingers clean when he is eating which is really unfair!

Chapter Text

The word ‘if' has been rolling around in Tom's brain like a marble. “If one of us isn’t into it.” seems pretty straightforward.
If only she meant it - wanted him.
If his confidence hadn’t been ripped out from under him like a carpet.
If what he thought was true love, hadn’t been pulled out by a rip tide.
If Meg had shown up before Ruth had dumped him would he have been tempted to cheat on Ruth?
Or was that a fantasy of sort of preemptive revenge? ---You can’t leave me,
If I leave you first.---

He made Meg breakfast and she was so appreciative, apparently she’d not had normal breakfasts in years and she was savoring it like he’d made something gourmet and not just a fry up. Like, really enjoying it. When she looked at him with her sea blue eyes and said “Yum” he wanted to catch her up and carry her back to the bed.

Tom looked at her journal - she was making a plan for all the work that needed to get done this winter. Tom usually just did the tasks when he felt like it, and the last week was usually a bit of a bear. It didn’t look as daunting in the neat little list on the grid paper, but she was missing a lot of the tasks. He took the pen from her and wrote in a couple other things. “Check the arcade machines, refill the tokens.” “Check all showers” “Scare off the foxes.”

“Scare off the foxes?” Meg said, amused.
“Yeah, they go in heat in December. They have their kits in March sometimes.”
“Do we need to call in Wildlife specialists or..?”
“Nah, we just try to keep them from building their nests in the properties, and in the shower facilities. Kai will be leaving today and bringing his dog with, so we’ll have to deal with them ourselves.”

Tom is still hovering over her, trying to think of more tasks to add, but looking at her neck, seeing down her polo, a glimpse of pink lace. Ruth only wore sports bras and Tom hasn’t been with anyone else. A gal who is proper fit, and wearing lace, is probably from a magazine or a porn clip on the internet. Not inches away and warm and staying in his bed. He swallows hard and goes to sit back down and finish breakfast.

“That will be really great, “ Tom says, She is still looking at him. Blue-grey eyes wide. He clears his throat. “For the tasks, we can make sure everything gets done and it's not a rush at the end.”

“I also wanted to make sure I do my fair share. You know how when you are teaching someone a job it takes longer then doing it yourself, so it can be tempting to just do it yourself, but then you are doing too much...”

‘She’s taking it seriously’, Tom thinks, ‘she’s not looking at it like an excuse to skive off and go surfing (which admittedly, He thought himself when he started, especially in the winter with the big waves siren-calling to him). And if they use this schedule there should be more time to surf, maybe at the same time, for safety.’

Meg is taking his plate and hers to the sink. Washing them off. Tom can see the bottom edge of her wave tattoo flirting with the hem of her board shorts.

“Who is that?” Meg asks. Tom sees her pointing out at April’s trailer.

“That’s April, pensioner, lives here now and no one comes to visit. Sad really. We have to keep an eye out for her.”

“Makes me want to have a huge family - although you can’t be sure your ‘kits’ won’t abandon you I guess.”

Toms thought that before too. He was planning to ask Ruth to marry him over Christmas and try to get a bun started... he’d been shopping for a ring...Shirley trusted him and he saw a future here...but that's all done now.

“We should start with the fumigated trailers, there are carts to carry the linens and supplies and we could get 4 done by lunchtime if we get a move on.” Tom thinks a minute. “Meet back here for your leftover Chili at noon?”

“Good deal.” Meg says.

----

Tom gets back first, and Meg’s not surprised as he’s an old hand at this and she’s still figuring out how to wrestle the duvet covers on without getting Into the Duvet Cover with the duvet and becoming some sort of Duvet Sandwich.

He’s reheating chili and made more toast and poured two big tumblers of water.

Meg noticed that the pillows on...their? bed are all at the head of the bed now. No more silly divider, which she would really like to be a purposeful choice on his part. But probably he just made the bed. She hopes he didn’t change the sheets, actually because his scent was like… a drug.

Tom catches her looking at the bed. “I changed the sheets. Realized I should have done that yesterday - but we didn’t know...”

Damn. it.

“You didn’t have to do that, they weren’t very dirty, right?”

“Ah - it'd been a while since I changed them, it was probably time.”

Tom is watching her, his eyes are so beautiful. Meg slips past him into the Kitchen to get more butter.
“Vegan butter, pretty shite?” He asks, smiling. The smiles are too rare, Meg thinks.
“It’s been so long I’d forgotten how good butter tastes, you know?”
They sit down to eat.

“We can probably do 4-5 more after lunch.” Meg says
“Yeah, but I usually take a…nap after lunch in the winters.”
“A siesta? How very civilized.”

—-
Well…she doesn’t think he’s lazy for wanting to take a nap after lunch. So that’s a result. Sometimes it’s not just a nap though and today in particular he’s feeling…. Well he’d sleep better if he wasn’t so tense is all.

They are washing and drying their dishes side by side. The sink is small and they are hip to hip. Both right handed so it’s not a confusion of arms but Tom can smell coconut in her hair, and see that she put some sunscreen on her nose and cheeks. Meg doesn’t seem to mind close proximity. She smiles at him a lot.

Last dish dried and put away and Tom is thinking. I want her. I want her so bad. I need her to come to bed with me or leave the trailer for…15 -30 min.

The little demons inside us that tell us we are worthless garbage are raising their heads in Tom to say “Ruth left you because you were shite in bed. You made her gay with your rubbish dick and your lack of imagination”.

Nasty little homophobic fuckers, those demons.

“Tom”
“Ya”
“I think I should tell you something.”
“Sure?”
“I was going to ask if I could stay and take a nap with you, but it would be a lie, I think you are just - super hot - and I think you should know that if we keep sharing a bed I’m likely to dream of you, touch you, ‘molest’ you” she sighs and laughs at the same time. “Even if it’s in my sleep. You're too gorgeous and…”

Tom kisses her. Time stops. It’s just lips and faces touching and arms encircling and warmth and desire.

Tom can feel her kiss in his fingers and toes.

He can feel it uncoiling something inside like fern fronds unfurling. Like spring come early, tenuous, unsteady. Wanted too much.

She’s pulling him backwards to the couch. So he breaks the kisses for just a moment to redirect her towards the bed, questioning her with his eyes. Is this a bad idea?

Her kiss says this is the only idea. She’s taking off her clothes and she’s in tiny lacy underthings barely covering her curves. Tom takes off his shirt and she’s already got his shorts and boxers down around his ankles. Her hands seeking him out.

“What do you like?” She asks him breathlessly.
“Huh?”
“What are you into?”
“Ah… You, I want you” Toms not sure if she means kinks or body parts? He wants to be in her right now, maybe she wants to hear that?

“Tom, I’ve been told I’m kinda vanilla, but I want to please you, and I want to see you smile, I’m on the pill, and I don’t want to bore you to death by talking to much…”

oh, she’s nervous too.

“Let’s be vanilla this first time, ok?” Tom smiles.

Chapter Text

Meg’s ex Mark, who is easier to forget everyday, thank goodness, dealt a parting blow when he left by telling Meg she was boring and predictable, especially in bed. And the demons in Meg decided right now to remind her of that.

Desire had overridden any qualms about having sex with Tom, even though he’s her coworker, her flat mate, but the demons said “Who wants you? Not this babe. You will bore him with your predictable every other day clockwork sex drive and your ‘quite enjoying missionary’ actually.”

Tom is kissing away all her insecurities, however. His kisses magically turning them into little flames inside her. Little magical butterflies covered in foxfire.

Tom smiles and It’s divinity. He says vanilla like it’s a good flavor which it really is. Vanilla gets a bad rep. It’s a delicious flavor, it smells great, cookies and cakes really need it.

Meg had gotten turned around and was heading toward the couch but he got them into the bed. On top of the clean sheets and the duvet like a cloud. Tom the sunshine.

“You are perfect” Meg tells Tom, outright. No point in hedging about it.

Tom looks like he doesn’t believe her but it’s true, she’s inventorying his parts in a grid list in her head. Eyes, lips, nose, beauty mark on his cheek, ears, neck, chest, on down to his ankles and toes. The whole of him, a work of art in the classic horny-artist sense. Michelangelo’s David was not so lovingly rendered as Meg’s list in her imagination describes Tom in his every particular.

---

It's all new, so different from Ruth. He knew what to do for Ruth to make her excited for him. Those steps were in his brain like the tasks for the park. But, Meg is already totally ready for him. She doesn’t ask to go to the bathroom. Or get a glass of water. She’s not distracted. He doesn’t have to soothe her, calm her, about every noise or thought.

Her eyes are gray in the overhead light, almost lavender, she’s said something he doesn’t understand, ears addled by this ache for her.

She smiles and repeats her request. “Take me”
Ah, that he can do.

It’s better, it gets better. So much better. Meg is pleased with him and excited by him and each thrust gets a sweet response. When you find the barrel, you pop up on your feet and you ride it as long as you can. He’s found it in her. He is certain she is his for as long as he rides this wave.

Her hands are hungry for him, her mouth kisses him everywhere she can reach. She puts her hands in his hair and lifts his head for kisses. And all the time he’s sliding in and out and listening to her moan happily.

The curl of the wave is crashing, he can feel her grabbing him tight “oh Tom” he pulls out all the way. “please” she’s begging. Tom slides back in and Meg’s wave crashes. Tom buries his face in her shoulder, crashes too.

—-
Meg hasn’t felt this enchanted in … ever. She awakens with Tom in her arms. He’s fallen asleep on top of her. She wouldn’t move for anything.
But His watch started to beep.
It was very responsible to set an alarm. Could he just be a bit less responsible?

Tom gets up on his elbows. “Good?”

“Magic” Meg says.

“More later?” He is smiling. Oh. That smile.

“Yes please.”

Chapter Text

Tom gets to work and keeps feeling a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. Tom doesn’t want to smile. Doesn’t want to feel giddy. He’s thinking “how long will this last.” And “how can I make it not hurt when it ends.”

Maybe it could just be sex. Just a perk of working together.

He used to beg Ruth to come up and visit and it hurt when she said she couldn’t while he knew she probably could if she really had wanted too. When it hurt too much he stopped begging, stopped asking, and then stopped wishing for it. Of course, that all went to hell when Ruth finally showed up at the parks.

Maybe he could control himself this time. Just lots of sex (please god) and no feelings.

Meg is thinking that has been the best sex in her life. She’s wondering 'how long before he tires of me' and 'Maybe if I take it really slow and try to be really kinky he will stay hot for me longer.' And 'I’ve already past the point of declaring myself hard to get but maybe I can arrange a slow burn and convince him I’m a total freak.'

—-
After work, Tom was waiting in the bed. Naked. She would come in through the beaded curtain any second and see him waiting there. Sitting up, beckoning to her. He was ready to prove to himself that he could make Meg crazy and keep himself sane. Make her eager and sweet and begging and keep his emotions cool towards her. Not romantic— just hot and heavy. He was so ready.
Where was she?
It was taking too long.

Tom went to the radio “Meg? You close to the trailer? Come in?”

No answer.

Tom got dressed. Worried and angry. Stomped out of the trailer to go looking for Meg.

When he finally found her she was in the storage and laundry area. Led Zeppelin was loudly playing through the speakers.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you on the radio!!”

“I was just listening to music and lost track of time. What’s the matter? Is April ok?” Meg turns down the music.

“I was waiting for you- thought you might have gotten hurt.” Tom stopped yelling halfway through. and is feeling post-anger shame.

“I am sorry I worried you, I’ll make sure to keep the hand held radio volume higher than the music.” Meg got close and rubbed Toms arm.

“Whole Lotta Love’ was playing. Robert Plant singing dirty talk and sex noises.

Tom didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. her gentleness felt too good . And that wasn’t the plan.

“Meg, I was waiting for you in bed.”

“Oh!” Her eyes got very big.

“I was naked and waiting.” Tom said this in her ear.

Oh fuck. He’s so sexy.
“I didn’t know.” Meg whispered.

Tom kissed her neck. Took off his shirt.
Meg reached down into Toms shorts and stroked his cock. “Maybe you should punish me a little bit, Tom”

“Should I?” Tom pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. “I’m not into S&M, though?”

“Nothing serious, just a little playful spanking?”

“If you want it?” Tom was cooling off. He didn’t want to hit her. But he did want to be having more great sex with Meg and not to think or worry about how she felt about him -- just to bury himself in her. Get in the barrel.
Meg kneels down and takes him into her mouth. Tom moans. Meg sucks and licks and makes hot sounds of pleasure. it is so perfect but it isn’t the plan.

“Meg, stop, please.”

She does, looking up at him, eyes a bit wounded. “That was hot, I just want…” Tom pulls her to standing and kissed her sweet hot mouth.

The laundry room has high tables and Tom knows what he wants to do to Meg next. He undresses her. Kissing her breasts and hips .peeling off her underwear nice and slow. He picks her up and puts her on the table, spreads her legs and gives her pleasure like she gave him. He tastes her, perfect like the ocean, and lets her ride his tongue like a wave.

Meg was calling his name and telling him he was amazing and heaven and making less and less sense but still there was Truth there. He held her down and caressed her and hummed against her clit, and when he felt her come he did smile. Felt powerful and pleased.

“Let’s go back to the trailer, Meg.”

“But…you…”

“That’s where the condoms are.”

Tom takes her hand. Outside the terrain is uneven when they aren’t on sidewalks and Toms leading her as the crow flies because despite his cool demeanor, he wants very much to be inside her again and Meg is walking slow. She looks mussed and happy, though.

“Sorry, my legs are all weak…for ‘some reason’”

Tom chuckles wickedly. “C’mon baby, I want more.”

Meg starts to run towards the trailer. Tom chases her.
Back in the trailer they are tearing off each others clothes and Meg is still wet and crazy for him. She pushes him down on the bed and rolls a condom down on him. She straddles him taking him in slow.

Tom knows he shouldn’t keep comparing Meg to Ruth. But it is night and day, the difference. Meg knows what she wants and it’s him. There is no hesitation.

—-
Tom, divinity, had eaten her out so good in the laundry room and now he had all the appearance of really enjoying being ridden hard in his bed. Meg was in control, more or less, at least of the speed and intensity, but when he grabbed her hips and brought his mouth to lick and kiss her breasts she no longer felt any control. She felt possessed.

Meg doesn’t remember ever being this loud before. It’s either freeing that no one is around or she’s lost her mind because of Tom.
“Tom, you. Are. Too. Good.” Meg managed to articulate between moans.

Tom kisses her and his tongue is everything and Meg comes and feels like she is glowing, bioluminescent, swimming in the ocean.

She wants nothing so much as to feel Tom lose control too.

“Did you…” he’s asking.

“Yes, Tom” turns around to ride him reverse now and Tom finishes holding her hips tight.

“Mmmmmm” he moans sweetly.
Swim with me, Tom.

—
Tom stopped himself from calling out her name. He takes off the condom, lays down again and thinks he probably shouldn’t cling to her like a barnacle but she’s cuddly and kissing him on his shoulder and he can’t be Kai. Can’t be the fuck them and forget them asshole.

On top of the fact that they are essentially flat mates for the season and he ought to keep things comfortable for them both, for the job, It’s in his nature to be affectionate. He puts his arm around her and pulls up the comforter over their bodies. She pulls his other hand between her tits and he can feel her heart pounding.

He tells himself it’s just the exertion making her heart beat so strong. It doesn’t mean anything. Her kisses also have to be a reflex, a bit of gratitude for a job well done.
But she is too sweet and there is a bit of hope he can’t shake, can’t smother. It laps at his heart like a calm but persistent tide.