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There is the issue of time zones to deal with, but sometimes Tom doesn’t really care and says ‘fuck it’ because if he wants to talk, he is going to talk and no time zone is going to stand in his way. Even so, he is considerate and decides he’ll take the bullet this time. That time he called having breakfast, he was pretty sure Chris broke something in the hotel he was staying in before falling right back asleep. Even so, Chris’s voice still held a tone of concern.
“Tom? Jesus…what time is it over there?”
“Two in the morning, but that’s not the point—“
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping or something?”
“That’s not the point. The point is—“
“I’m even getting ready for bed. If I’m asleep before you are over in England—“
“Chris!” Tom shouted over the phone, finally getting the other to shut up for a few seconds. “Seriously, I’m fine! I just wanted to call and say I saw the Snow White trailer for the first time! It looks great. You look great!”
There was a muffled little chuckle and Tom could almost see the red rising up on Chris’s cheeks.
“Oh, god. I haven’t even seen it yet.” Chris replied, finally, after a fairly long pause of trying to compose himself. “How bad is it?” He asked, and Tom couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well, I can’t say much about the Queen or Ms. White, but that Huntsman, well…I have to say, he does look damn good throwing his axe around.” Tom couldn’t help but smile at the flustered laughter that echoed over the phone. He was going to have way too much fun with this. “But…I have to say…I think he still looks better wielding a hammer.” Tom purred out the last part, smiling coyly to himself as he settled back against the frame of his bed.
The laughter suddenly cut off and all Tom could hear now was the soft intake of air from Chris, hundreds of miles across the Atlantic. Tom licked his lips.
“You think so? I’m not sure. Kristen seemed to like the axe…”
Tom felt his own breathe hitch in his throat. Chris was teasing him. There was an ocean between them, and Chris was teasing him. Tom only smiled, getting more comfortable between his pillows, ready to play along.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s never seen the hammer. Never seen the way you hold it. How it fits in your hand and you throw it and catch it and how it can pin me to the ground…”
“Fuck, Tom…” Chris groaned out and Tom smiled, wishing Chris could see it. Wishing he could see Chris. Sitting on the edge of a hotel bed in New York, phone to his ear and breathing broken. He’d be hunched over trying to control himself. Trying not to touch, but wanting to. Want to touch Tom. But can’t.
“Mmm…what’s my Huntsman wearing, hm? Are you still wearing all the leather?” Tom cooed, biting his lip as he imagined it, seeing Chris dirty and sweating just like he was in the movie trailer.
“N-no,” Came the choked out response. “No leather. I just showered. Only a towel. I’m still so wet.”
Just as suddenly as Chris was the Huntsman, he was lying on a bed with only a white towel wrapped around his hips, barely hanging on, as drops of water slide down his body. Dripped off strands of hair, falling into his face. He would lick them away when they came too close to his lips. And Tom wanted to help with that, help lick away all those drops of water as they slide and pooled and—
“O-oh—“ Tom stuttered, almost dropping the phone as the mental image hit him hard. He could feel his pajama pants growing a little too tight. His free hand was already moving, sliding down his own bare chest to palm his growing erection.
“Touching yourself already, Tom?” That tone was mocking and he knew he should have said something, come back with a snappy retort, but his mind had suddenly stopped working as all his blood went south and his skin started heating up. “I know you are. You’re panting into the phone. All hot and bothered. Tell me, what are you thinking about?”
“Y-you. Naked. I want you…I want you touching me.” His hand slipped lower, past the waist band of his pants, and Tom let out a gasp, arching slightly off the bed as he took himself in hand.
“Yeah. I know you do.” Chris’s voice was now low and husky, breathing heavy and labored. Tom could picture him now in almost the same position he was in, lying on a bed and his towel would be long forgotten, cock curved up to his stomach. “Tell me more.”
Tom moaned.
“C-Chris…”
“Did I tangle that pretty little tongue of yours? Normally everything you say is so smart. Though, I think I like it better when it is being put to other uses.”
“Yes, please…”
He’d be between Chris’s legs, hands on his thighs and spreading him out wider so Tom had a better view. He’d lick and tease and kiss before taking him in, all the way down, wrapped around his lips and sucking.
“I’d want you on your knees.”
Tom groaned, the image in his head quickly changing, but the flush running down his chest only grew in strength. His fingers tightened around his own cock, pumping slowly. Of course he’s want him on his knees, at the foot of the bed. Chris likes the control.
“In between my own. I’d make you keep your hands on the ground, just sitting there, so your mouth would have to do all the work. My fingers in your hair, tugging and pulling and forcing you to take more.”
Tom bit down on his lip, hard. He wanted that too. Wanted to taste Chris on his tongue. Have his fingers in his hair, rough and calloused from using that hammer. That axe.
“I’d pull you off though, before I came.”
A moan escaped Tom’s throat as the words came forth. The grip he had on his phone almost slipped, but Tom caught it right before, readjusting so it was pressed between his ear and the pillow he was laying on so he had both hands free now.
“B-but, I’d want you to. I’d want—“
“Even if you asked, I would still pull away.” Chris cut in.
“No, please! I want—God, Chris, I want—“ How could he sound so desperate? He was only talking on the phone, alone, with Chris so many miles away and even now the man had this effect on him. Made him want him even more. Made him squirm and touch himself and need.
“No, Tom. Patience. You’d have to wait. I’d pull you up on the bed and have you on your stomach, ass in the air so I could prepare you properly.”
His free hand was moving now, away from his chest and across his stomach, phantom touches over pale skin as he repositioned himself. He moved into the position Chris just mentioned. Knees below him to raise his backside into an angle, one arm by his head to support him as his other hand reached behind him.
“I’d finger you open,” Chris continued when he heard Tom stop moving around. “No lube at all. I want you to feel the burn.”
Tom’s mouth fell open as his first finger slide inside him, pretending it was Chris. They’d be bigger, rougher.
“It’d start off slow, working you open so I can watch you come undone.”
Tom was panting, eyes fluttering closed so he could see it properly in his head. Chris’s presence behind him, working his fingers in as the other hand rubbed little circles into his hips.
“Chris—Chris, please.” Tom begged, wanting more and wanting him, wishing he was there. Right there, behind him. Now.
“I’d slip in a second when you start begging, just like that. I’d spread them out to see how wide you could go, see how much you could take. But that wouldn’t be enough, would it?”
“God, no. Never. Please. More. I need—“
“I know, I know. Are you touching yourself, Tom? Fingering your asshole, wishing it was me?”
Tom couldn’t answer properly, only moaning louder next to the phone’s speaker so Chris could hear it; how much he wanted him.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t keep you waiting for long. Two fingers aren’t enough, right? You could take my cock…”
“N-no!” Tom mumbled out, hips thrusting back onto his own fingers, trying to drive them deeper and move faster inside him. “I can’t—you’re too—“
“Oh, come now. Don’t lie. I know you like that hint of pain. Don’t try and trick me, Tom. You’d be begging when I removed my fingers, crying for it as I positioned my cock and finally—finally—thrust it in.”
In that moment, Tom added a third finger and thrust them forward, hard, making him call out Chris’s name as his fingertips brushed against his prostate.
“Oh god, oh god, Chris—“
“Just like that. I’d fuck you so hard. Until the air was forced from your lungs. Until you collapsed on the bed and just take it while I fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, please!”
Chris’s voice was getting heavier, words now coming in short little gasps of breathe. Tom was beyond proper words at this point, wiggling around to try and get his fingers deeper into him, adding a fourth to stretch him even wider.
“Only after you begged and screamed I’d take mercy. Wrap my hand around your weeping cock and stroke you.”
They were both close now, Tom could hear it. He followed along and took his other hand down to wrap around his cock, hips pumping forward to fuck his hand in a shattered rhythm with his fingers thrusting into his ass.
“Yeah, Tom, come on. You’re so close, I can hear it.” Chris panted into the phone. “Come for me Tom. I want you totally undone and limp when I finally come inside you. Filling your ass all the way up and—“
“Yes, yes, yes!” Tom shouted out, practically screaming as Chris’s words ripped the orgasm from his body. “C-come for me, Chris, co—“
On the other side of the phone, he heard a sharp “Fuck!” before a heavy moan filled his ears, followed quickly by a gasp of his own name.
Afterwards, it took them both ten minutes to come down and finally catch their breath. Tom rolled over onto the other side of his bed, holding the phone to his ear and trying to fight back coming sleep at the same time.
“I think I’ll need another shower now…” Chris muttered on the other line and Tom simply laughed.
“You know, you do make for a fairly hot Huntsman.” Tom said, getting back to their original conversation. “But, I think I like my Thor better.”
He heard Chris laugh.
“Go to sleep, Tom.”
And so he did.