You sat on the couch, waiting for Tom to return from a night out with Harrison. Every time he came home, you had to take care of him, and you felt really unappreciated by him. You undressed him, cleaned him up, got him water, everything. But he never told you he loved you when he was drunk. Only sober, when it's easiest to lie. And you felt lied to.
The door opened and slammed shut as he sighed loudly. You didn't look at him as he flopped down on the couch next to you. He smelled vaguely of beer, which was better than the nights he'd come home smelling like a vodka distillery.
"Hi babeeeeeee!" he drawled, putting his head on your shoulder.
"Hi," you responded shortly.
He moved his head in confusion. He got down on his knees in front of your legs and looked up at you.
"What's wrong?" he asked, all joking aside. When you looked at him, you knew he wasn't smashed. He was all there and you could tell.
"I feel unloved. You never tell me you love me when you're drunk and I have to take care of you. I always think I've gotten this right, being with you, and sometimes I just feel ..." You trailed off, tears choking you.
"Go ahead, sweetheart, it's okay. You can tell me anything," he said encouragingly.
"Sometimes I wish we never met," you said after a pause.
He looked hurt, but understanding. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way, baby. I love you so much, and that's not a lie."
You looked down at his chocolate eyes, staring up at you and shining. "Show me."
He immediately moved his hands to your waistband. You lift your hips up so he could remove your shorts and panties. You took off your shirt, revealing your breasts. You were already in your pajamas.
Tom remained on his knees on the couch, but he reached up and began to massage your breasts, sliding his rough thumbs over your nipples. He kissed your knees, and your thighs. He moved his hands back down to your thighs, pulling you down a little more so he had a better angle to get to you. He tossed your ankles over his shoulders and licked a stripe up your core.
"Tom," you said, your hands going straight to his curls. "Lie to me."
He hummed against you, pressing a kiss to your clit. "I hate you."
Before you were able to answer, he licked another stripe up you. His lips found your clit again, this time taking it in his mouth and running his tongue all over it. You clenched his hair tightly, moaning as he sucked on your most sensitive part.
He removed a hand from his your thigh and and slowly slid a finger inside you, lips still attached firmly to your clit. You emitted a string of curse words as he curled his finger inside you, brushing your spot.
"Tell, tell me again," you gasped, his finger working faster.
"I hate you," he hummed, barely moving his face away from your core. The vibrations sent you over the edge; he continued to lap at your clit and pleasure you with his finger as you rode out your high.
You sat on the couch, naked. He sat next to you and wrapped you up in a blanket, hugging you.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "I love you so much, with all my heart."
This time, you believed him.
