Tom Holland is a Liar: T.H x Reader

Chapter 16

Well I was practically made to go in, wasn't I? 

My mind contemplates the idea and I try to get my thoughts to toggle with the actions of spending more time with Tom, I simply couldn't decide for myself what was right. 

I watch a smile hang loose on Tom's lips, the lips that were merely inches away from mine just one sleep's last. I liked the feeling of his smile on my tongue, I just didn't really like the words they spoke. I didn't want to go in but everything's worth doing once....at least for the sake of it.

"Fine," I reply like a bitter slate.

"Fine?"

My eyes glare, he makes me choke up the words,"I'll go in."

As we walk through the door I realize the house laid deserted. His parents, probably at work and his brothers doing who know's what. No buffers, just Tom and I alone. I liked the idea of a empty house but still I'm frightened by my senses in his presence. 

He gives a small shrug and a smile before leading me upstairs, I haven't been in his bedroom in a long time. I think I forgot what it even looked like, I had fragments of memory. Perhaps the ink stain still laid on his pale blue walls or the desk chair that wobbled when you sat on it, maybe he never fixed the hinges on his door as it was always stuck and stiff when one wished to slam it. 

Entering his room felt like a daydream, Tom's smell, subtle when with him only amplified when entering his atmosphere. It was how I'd left it. The ink stain, wobbly chair, and even the stiff door, all stayed the same. Posters lined the wall, old bands and movie stars, nothing I've really been familiar with but if it amused him I'd play along. I'd pretend to know the faces that covered the walls and I'll be perfect. I could be lovely for him, if I pretend.

"Blast from the past?" he asks.

I say it in a sigh,"you wouldn't believe."

And he smiles. I laugh. We talk. 

Nothing more though it was fulfilling, nothing important was said. Although I'd argue that I wouldn't want to talk about anything else. I was getting comfortable with him again. We were on the bed, lying on our backs. My gaze, fixed on the spinning ceiling fan, watching it circle, distracted yet more focused than ever. 

"Y/n," he pauses,"you're not still listening are you?"

"I'm listening"

"oh good," he only partially gets up, he turns to look over me,"y/n?"

I hum in response.

His smile is soft,"I remember everything."

"So do I," I say.

"I think I wanna be good for you again," he says," would you be okay with that? If I could be good for you, if I could be yours again?"

I wish he was mine. Though I knew better than to think that the Tom Holland could ever be tied down. To think that the famous Hollywood movie star would ever settle, to ever just stop. I wished so badly that he'd just slow down, even just for a couple moments, even just so I could catch up. Could he ever be good for me? If he were good to me he'd be out of my sight, if he were good I wouldn't have to worry about him so much.

But I wanted him and I was selfish. I wanted him to be obsessed with me, I'd be alright with him moving fast as long as he was pulling me along with him. We don't have to repeat history, no one said things can't be different. 

"You're mine," I reply.

"Sounds like a deal," he says.

The hypnotizing gaze of his wraps me in dopamine. I was drunk off his liquor. His eyes were taunting me, his crooked smile fighting me. My hands made it's way to the collar of his shirt and my mind was too distracted to stop myself. I tug at it and he pulls it off. I don't know what my intent was but I surely knew what I was doing. He kisses me and I let him. His lips masquerading as pleasure, his movement heightens my senses. We don't say anything but we were on the same page. He whispers in my ear but I was high off adrenaline, I could barely filter out the noise. 

I was infected by him, sick with infatuation, his lips never felt better. Better than before, better than I imagined it, he knew it. His cockiness was evident in his action.

"What do you want from me y/n?" he asks, the worst smirk plastered on his face.

I don't want to admit it,"I want you to keep kissing me."

His taste was bitter though I didn't dare stop my pursuit, I needed his touch. I felt manic, the boy made me crazy and I was focused on him. He was my thing, my only thing. Narrowed focus, my eyes kept itself deep into abyss of his. Then shut tight whilst my lips move in synchronistic ways.

I mumble into his lips between kisses,"don't stop Tom, please don't stop."

His hand rested under my chin, his thumb circling up and down my upper neck. He pulls away but I knew he wasn't doing so to be cruel, he wanted to make me feel good. He was doing a good job too. He moves his mouth to my chin, he continues to kiss down it all the way to my collar bone. 

As he whispered into my skin I could feel the vibrations of his words, each syllable brings goosebumps to my body. He was unbearable. 

"You look beautiful Y/N," he spoke,"I've missed the way you look when you're under me."

I want to make a joke maybe even tease but my mind is mush and I had no power to think of anything even remotely intellectual.

"Y/n?" he adds in a question, I didn't like when he spoke, I didn't like when he said my name but each word he uttered was practically a melody in my ears. I begged, say my name again. Say it like you love me, say it like you care.

"Y/n," he adds again.

"Yes Tom"

"I knew I could make you fall in love with me again"