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English
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Part 4 of The Tomwell Tales
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Published:
2025-07-05
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1,635
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1/1
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35
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The Royal Heir - Shivers

Summary:

This thing we've started? I don't want it to stop.

Notes:

This is my very first attempt at a songfic - inspired by Maxwell and Tommy's song - Ed Sheeran's "Shivers".

As an added challenge there's no dialogue!

This is a one-shot but it fits into both YCUTA and DWMEC I think, and also works as a flashback for Fictionangyl's "Return From The Big Apple" which you should definitely check out if you haven't already - but if you have you'll know why I had to get this out there this week, I needed some loved up Tomwell :)

Work Text:

Dancing is his foreplay, and it's working.

It starts with him getting out his phone, putting on one of his favourite playlists, and throwing his phone down onto the grass. Then he starts to move, a daring expression in those blue eyes I can't help but get lost in as he begins to focus on his movements. And my eyes start dancing too, their focus flitting all over his toned body as he seamlessly performs his breakdance routine in the dark, before returning to those eyes I can't resist gazing into.

Yeah, this is the appetiser before the main course, alright. And as I watch him, spellbound by the way he moves, I'm still unable to believe I'm here with him.

His phone emits just enough light to illuminate his body, as the stars point their many spotlights on his handsome face. But when he looks in this direction, it's only me he sees. And the hunger in his eyes has my heart pounding out of my chest.

This is what we do. Although it still seems like a dream, it also feels so natural. It's quickly become part of our routine. Most evenings, I drive him into the darkening evening sky, and we see where it takes us. Every time, we go further. Finding new parts of this beautiful countryside that neither of us have explored. Places where we can explore each other, too. More of each other, every time.

It's Saturday night. But even if it wasn't, I'd still be caught up in his spell tonight. He makes me want to stay awake all the time, not missing a second of him through sleep, even if he's lying beside me. I want it all.

His guitar's on the back seat of my car, a little neglected tonight. Maybe he'll play it later. Maybe he'll let me practice, help me out like he did last night. Sitting behind me, his hands guiding mine, his hot breath on my neck, a certain pressure on my back, his lips then finding their way to mine... but tonight, he's dancing to a different tune, while I lean against the car, still entranced.

That arrow is well and truly through my heart now. I already had the strongest feelings for him when we first met, which only deepened day by day as our friendship flourished. But now, watching him dancing like that underneath the stars, like there's no yesterday or tomorrow, like there's only us and tonight, I can't describe how that makes me feel. And as those blue eyes sparkle in my direction – I know I'm in love.

I can't tell him. Not yet. I don't want to panic him or frighten him away; he's so sure in his belief that he'll never love again, and if he ever does love again, and hell, if it could ever be me he might love, he has to get there in his own way. In his own time. Things are working for me right now, and they seem to be working for him too, so there's no need to shake things up with such a bold statement. It can stay within. It's no less valid there.

His dance evens out into a seductive shuffle, I shiver with excitement as he takes a step closer, and then another, his tongue grazing his lip ever so subtly as he considers me. He places his hands on my waist, gently drawing me into his movements. And I can't help but be drawn in.

I've never been a dancer. But with him, I am. There's no awkwardness, no self-consciousness as we sway, the music giving us both energy, but not as much as each other's gentle touches do. Suddenly he kisses me, and I bask in his taste. He tastes so sweet; a subtle cinnamon, a dash of strawberry, and something more... anticipation, I guess. I don't have a diverse experience of kissing, certainly not compared to him, but he still seems to want to kiss me, and oh god I just can't get enough of his kisses.

He's every bit as addictive as the idea of him was.

When our lips and tongues eventually part ways, he leans down to grab his phone, and snaps a selfie or two or three, perfect exhilaration captured in a series of images, no doubt bound for his Pictagram. Then he pulls me in for a selfie, and I reluctantly comply. I don't like him taking pictures of us together. I worry they'll end up in the wrong hands if he loses his phone, or in the public domain if he accidentally uploads the wrong image to his account. I want to protect him from all the hateful misunderstanding out there for as long as I can. But he'll send this picture to me later, I hope.

I always wanted to be that guy. The one with him on his social media adventures I've followed ever since I can remember. More often, it was a girl, of course it was one specific girl for quite some time, but it was a guy just often enough for me to realise he wasn't as straight as everyone else assumes he is. I'd imagine myself there with him, the one he was smiling at, the one he was dancing for. I never thought it would be anything more than a wild fantasy. Now it's a memory I'll treasure for life.

We dance slowly, smoothly. His touch becomes more intimate, more impatient. He nods towards the car, and I don't object. I reach for the door and we tumble into the back. I'm almost taken out by his guitar as I land first on the seat; he laughs, and together we manoeuvre it into the passenger seat. Then he shuts the door behind him, and he's all I can see above me, as he moves to straddle my body; a body that's reaching for him without movement. I crave his weight on mine.

My hands linger up to his shirt buttons, toying with them at first, then unfastening a gap so I can touch his chest, feel his elevated heartbeat perfectly in line with my own. He's still considering what to do with me. At this point, I think he knows he could do anything. Honestly, he could tear me in two and I'd still beg for more. Given how seldom he's slept with guys before me, he really knows what to do. He'd soon put me back together again. I feel whole with him, even though he's stolen my heart.

I'm gazing up at him now in the dark. Only the moon illuminates the inside of the car. We don't have much space. I'd rather be back at the manor, tangled in him between soft silky sheets, but blue eyes lives and loves in the moment, and I'm learning to go with it.

I said I wouldn't let myself fall in love with him. But I did. I never thought love could be this intense. I'm in so deep, loving him so hard. Do I think we'll last forever? No. Will I ever be able to pick myself up afterwards? Probably not. Does this nagging concern in the back of my mind stop me right now as he leans in to kiss me? It never could. I can't stop, no matter how much I try. He claims my waiting lips, and I sigh in contentment.

He pulls away again, and shoots me that irresistible smile. I just want to kiss it again, taste and savour it like a fine wine. And those eyes too, I want to kiss them as well. I push myself up, and he closes his eyes in response, so I get my wish, my lips meeting his left eyelids and eyelashes as they flutter, and then the right side, and then I feel his smile under my own.

He takes his opportunity to scramble out of his jeans, and then helps me do the same. Next his legs wrap around me, and he moves up and down in torturous movements, teasing both of us until I'm sighing again. He smiles, and now his arms envelop me and I feel so warm, so right.

Until he's gone. It's a loss at first, but then I see he's reaching into the glovebox, for that all important tube. He looks enquiringly at me when he returns, and I murmur my consent, losing my boxers and angling myself appropriately. Though we've only been getting intimate with each other for a few short weeks, I'm quickly learning what he likes and he always knows what I need. It's like our bodies were preprogrammed to each other's requirements. And right now, as he patiently prepares me, I have no defence.

I'm living through the most exhilarating and terrifying few weeks of my life. My entire soul feels like it's been set alight, and I don't know whether it'll be left damaged and charred, or whether it'll burn bright forever. Maybe I need some of his optimism. I do feel like I'm meant to be here with him right now, to get him through the most difficult time of his life. Honestly, it's the greatest time of my life. It always will be.

I shiver as he enters, but it's with fire. He's the fire. We're both setting each other alight with pleasure right now. I gaze up at him once he's all the way in, his name is on a loop in my mind, and as he sets the rhythm of our incredible dance, I reach for his face to kiss him again, tangling my hand in his dishevelled hair, gasping my approval into his mouth as he hits that spot.

This thing we've started? I don't want it to stop.

 

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