Space They Cannot Touch

32.

Tom Holland and his fiancée Y/N Y/L/N were spotted at Kingston Health Centre on Tuesday afternoon. It is believed that there are ongoing complications with Y/N's pregnancy, as Holland was spotted supporting her from the Centre to their car. The couple's social medias have remained quiet, with no posts regarding their engagement, nor the much anticipated pregnancy announcement. The big question is when will they break their silence, with even Holland's staunchest fans becoming irritated with the couples secrecy.

**

You rolled over for the umpteenth time, unable to sleep. Tom was dead to the world beside you and you humphed, jealous that he could sleep so soundly. You checked the time. 5am. This was ridiculous. You'd been awake for at least two hours and your brain showed no signs of giving up and letting you rest.

Grumbling to yourself, you got up and left Tom to sleep. You turned on the TV, the volume down low, and flicked aimlessly through the channels but there was nothing decent on. You turned it off, feeling agitated. You needed to do something but there was only one thing on your mind.

Were you pregnant?

It had been two days since you'd seen Dr Mandapati, and you were anxiously awaiting her call. Yours and Toms unease about the results had only increased as the days passed, the two of you feeding each other's nervousness.

The nervous tension had become bad enough that Tom hadn't wanted to have sex, too worried about hurting you further (damn Jack and the permanent scars he left). When you'd pawed at him like a horny teenager, moaning and carrying on, he'd fought you off, arguing that sex could cause a miscarriage and he wasn't going to risk your (potentially) unborn child. You'd argued that you may not be pregnant, and that having an orgasm would relieve your stress and give you an influx of happy hormones, thus normalising your cycle. He'd staunchly refused and you'd sulked for the remainder of the evening, mood unimproved by the tabloids and gossip sites.

Your paranoia at the doctors hadn't been unfounded, the tabloids having spotted you two after all. Whilst Nikki had taken a lovely photo of you two with your ring, you held off posting it, hoping to quell the pregnancy rumours with some witty caption. But until you had the results you couldn't be sure, and the internet was still swirling with rumours. Someone had gone so far as to edit you with a bump, claiming it as the first sighting and "confirming" that you were knocked up. Fortunately, fans had been quick to point out that the photo of you was from months ago.

"Fuck this" you sighed, getting up and tip toeing back to the bedroom. Tom was still fast asleep, spread eagle on his back, hands resting above his head. A dirty idea came to mind and you snuck to the cupboard, retrieving the handcuffs. You prayed he wouldn't wake as you attached them to his wrists, locking his hands to the bed.

You removed your pyjamas and sidled up to him, kissing his neck, chest and face, moaning a little as you did. He frowned, stirring. You continued to kiss him, stroking your hand up and down his form. His skin rippled with goosebumps and he stirred some more, turning his head to seek out your lips. You kissed him and he softly kissed you back. You pulled back from him, smiling in the dim light of the morning as you traced his face with your finger.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Early"

"Why are you awake then?"

"Couldn't sleep. Wanted you"

He groaned and moved to wrap his arms around you. There was a clinking sound and his arms stopped short. His eyes shot open and he looked up at his handcuffed wrists and back at you.

"Y/N!"

"Good morning big fella" you cooed, running your hand down his abdomen to play with the waistband of his boxers.