"Okay, baby girl, I don't mean to come off strong, but hot damn you look good."
You felt your face get hot at Tom's comment. You were going out to a fancy dinner with several cast members of Spider-Man: Far From Home as a celebration for wrapping on filming. You'd bought a new dress for the occasion, a really nice red number that clung to your breasts the way you loved but didn't show as much of your stomach. It was the perfect dress, and made you feel quite sexy and confident.
You giggled. "Thank you, baby, I got it just for you!" You walked over to him and kissed his hand.
"Can we, uh, do something tonight?" he stammered, looking at you lovingly. "Maybe with the lights on?"
You had been very clear with Tom since the moment you started dating that you were uncomfortable with your body. You adored Tom, but you were terrified his fans would say something about how much bigger you were him him. You'd heard a few comments about your weight from some of his so-called "fans" leaving an event he took you to. They said nasty things about you crushing him or snapping him or if it was "hard for him to see your face through all those fat rolls." You hated it. You two had been having sex, but you were so uncomfortable and so afraid that he'd say something about the stretch marks on your stomach or the cellulite on your thighs, so afraid he'd leave you when he saw the awful imperfections.
You'd tried to lose weight, but it wasn't easy. It was never easy for you. It was so easy to gain weight, so hard to lose it. You cursed your genetics for your slow metabolism and your weight tendencies.
But Tom never pressured you. He'd noticed you were uncomfortable and invited you to pick up boxing. He'd been teaching you and you loved it, but no weight had come off. Your body wasn't wired that way. It took so much work and focus and dedication to lose weight for you. And Tom didn't seem to care.
"Tom, I don't know," you said nervously.
"Hey," he said softly. "If you don't want to, it's okay, my love. I love you with all my heart and I want you to be comfortable. I can't deny that I want you really badly, or that I want to see all of you in the light and show you how much I love all of you. But this is a two way street, right my love?"
You smiled softly. "Right. C'mon, Tom, we're gonna be late." You took his hand and led him out of the room.
The entirety of dinner, you worked up the courage to do it. To let him in. To let him see you in the light. So when you got home, you took his hand softly and kissed it. Your hand shook in his, nerves causing every inch of you to spark with anxiety. You felt a little nauseous, but you wanted to do it.
You took him to your bedroom. "Sit down," you softly commanded.
"Yes ma'am," Tom replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Want me to get the lights?"
"No," you replied quickly. "Leave them on."
He looked at you, his eyes softening with concern and love. "Are you sure sweetheart? We can—."
"I really want to Tom," you said, your hands shaking more as they went to the back of your dress, unzipping it and pulling it down. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, feeling dizzy and nervous as Tom's eyes took you in.
You had worn a set of red lingerie that matched your dress. You'd debated getting high-waisted panties that covered your stretch marks, but you'd decided on bikini-style instead. You fought the overwhelming urge to cover yourself up.
"Wow," Tom breathed. He slid off the edge of the bed and walked slowly towards you. Your breathing increased as he got down on his knees in front of you and kissed your stomach just above your belly button. "Baby, I know this is a big deal for you, so before I say anything else, thank you for trusting me and feeling comfortable with me." He looked up at you with those brown doe eyes, and you felt some of the nerves go away. Your shaky hand went to his hair and began to stroke through it in attempt to calm yourself down.
