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You loved your husband more than anything or anyone else in the world. He loved you too, and often showed it. You’d wake up to flowers or coffee, he’d surprise you with dates, and he’d constantly shower you with affection. And until recently, you felt like the luckiest woman alive. The only flaw with him was that he was apprehensive to talk about his own feelings. If he had a bad day, he didn’t like to go into detail. If he was upset with you in any way, it was nearly impossible to find out what you’d done wrong. This bothered you. How could you help him feel better if he wouldn’t tell you how he felt in the first place? If you tried to bring it up, he would always change the subject. It felt impossible to tackle the issue.
But now he never seemed to want to be physical with you. It’d been two weeks since you’d had sex. That was probably the longest you’d ever gone. He didn’t address it. You wondered if you’d done something. Did I put on weight? Does he not find me attractive anymore? He was a very sensible and sympathetic man, so that wouldn’t make any sense at all. You just didn’t have the heart to confront him about the lack of intimacy beyond cuddling and kissing as of late. You felt such a separation from him, and it broke your heart.
It was a night not unlike any other recently. You were sitting in bed with Ryland, his nose buried in some mind-numbing scientific literature book while you did a crossword. The apartment was a little cold and dim. You hadn’t seen him much today. You went out with some friends for dinner after work and he got take out and planned some lessons. You sighed.
“What’s the study of fungi? It's eight letters and the fourth is an O.”
“Mycology.” He mumbled.
“That’s m-y-c-o-l-o-g-y?”
“Yup.”
“Thanks.”
“Mhm.”
You sat, disappointed, in the quickly returning silence for a moment.
“Did you have a good day?” You asked.
“Yeah. Kind of boring. How about you?”
“Dinner was fun.”
“That’s good.”
You frowned as the conversation died.
“Baby?”
“Mmm… yeah?” He murmured.
“Can you put that thing down for a second? I want to talk.”
“We are talking.”
“You know what I mean. I want to talk.”
He grumbled, but folded over the corner of the page and set the book down on his nightstand.
“Talk about what?”
You were heartbroken at the prospect of being nervous to bring something up to Ryland. He was your husband. He was the love of your life. You never imagined a day where you’d be having sex issues with him, of all things.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” You blurted your answer before you could chicken out.
“What?” He sputtered, looking past you.
“Why don’t we have sex anymore?”
“I don’t… uh—well you haven’t asked me for sex…”
“Since when do I have to ask you for sex? When have I ever had to come to you and ask for sex?”
“I just… uhm…”
He still avoided your stare, but you kept your eyes firmly on him. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No… no sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then I don’t understand.” Your tone was undeniably disappointed and confused.
“I’m…” He sighed, making eye contact for hardly a second before flicking his gaze back away. “I’m just not really in the mood.”
Sure, that’d be a fine and dandy answer if your husband didn’t have the hormones of a teenage boy. He used to be all over you. He was insatiable. His sex drive was unusually high.
“Why not?”
“I guess I just don’t really want you to see me.” He admitted in a whisper.
Your brows furrowed in cluelessness. “See you? I’m looking at you right now.”
“No I mean… see me like that.”
“Uh. Ry, I’ve seen you like that a thousand times.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. He was overwhelmed and this was the most confrontational situation he’d been in in years. He avoided them like the plague in every aspect of his life.
“I—I know you have, but… haven’t you noticed I’ve gotten… fat?”
You genuinely didn’t know what to say.
“Uhm… what?”
“Don’t play dumb, please.”
“I’m not, I swear!”
“I haven’t been to the gym in months and I’ve been eating like my metabolism is that of a thirteen year old boy… I let myself go. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
You squinted at him. You desperately wanted to comfort him, but you couldn’t get past your confusion.
“Ryland, you’re not fat. I have no clue where that idea is coming from.”
“You haven’t seen me! I’m all… squishy!” His eyes were watery.
“Oh, baby…”
He kind of collapsed into your side, hiding his face in your shoulder. Your shirt darkened and dampened with his tears.
“I’m sorry—I can’t believe I let it get this bad—”
You shook your head, fingers carding through his hair. “It’s not bad, Jesus.”
“Yes it is!”
He was wailing now. You’d never, ever seen him like this. You’d only seen him cry three times: the first time you made love, when you walked down the isle, and when you made him watch The Princess Bride—during the scene where Wesley and Buttercup reunite and roll down the hill. That was it. And it was never more than a small to moderate amount of tears. This was intense. Part of you wasn’t sure what to do. But you’d sobbed in his arms countless times. He was good at comforting you. You should be able to return that.
“Baby, I promise you you’re not fat. And even if you have put on weight, that is the last thing I would ever care about.”
He still bawled into your shoulder, hands now clutching at the fabric of your shirt.
“I—I’m disgusting. I’m lazy and hideous and—and you’re just so beautiful. God, imagine the type of guys you could be with! And you’re with me!”
You kept your fingers steadily moving through his hair despite how appalled you were by the new information. You had no idea he felt like this. You didn’t know he was so insecure. When was the last time I complimented him? You wracked your brain, guilt pooling in your lower stomach, heavy like cement.
Of course you thought he was attractive. You thought he was extremely attractive. Maybe you didn’t voice it as often as you thought you did. Uh… last month we went to dinner and I said I liked his tie. Seriously? His tie? That was the best I could do? Dirty talk in bed didn’t even seem to revolve around his appearance. You mostly focused on telling him what you wanted him to do to you.
You let him get it out. He sobbed like that for ten minutes before scooting back from you, rolling onto his side facing away from you, and pulling the covers up to his chin. You sighed again.
“Baby, please.” You rubbed his back. He just sniffled in response. “At least look at me.”
He slowly turned around, looking a lot like a very sad kitten that had been waterboarded. You rested a hand on his cheek. “You’re not hideous. You’re as far from hideous as someone could possibly be.”
He frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“But I do.”
He grumbled, a hand coming out from under the sheets to rub at one of his puffy eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been… taking care of you how I should.” He murmured.
“I’m sorry you feel the way you do. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah well that’s not your fault.”
You chewed the inside of your cheek. You didn’t believe his words for a moment. It was your fault. You should've been making him feel as good about himself as he made you feel. “Can I touch you baby?” You asked softly, sweetly. “We can turn off the lights.” You added in a gentle tone.
He seemed unsure, his eyes looking down somewhat shamefully. “You really aren’t going to be… grossed out?”
“Ryland, I’m not sure what’s got you thinking this way, but I could never be grossed out by the way you look.”
He sniffled. “I—I guess, if you really want to…”
“You can always tell me to stop and I will.”
He nodded sheepishly. He hated how insecure he felt. He felt so weak and vulnerable, but under all of that he just missed having his wife touch him.
You pulled his shirt up and over his head. He whined and laid down. He didn’t look that much different than last time you’d seen him… sure, he held a little more fat in his lower stomach and around his pecs, but it wasn’t anything drastic. He just looked a bit more… fluffy. The pudge was cute.
“Baby, you don’t look hideous. You still look handsome.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, I promise I’m not.”
He hid his embarrassed face in his hands. You leaned down and pressed a kiss where his neck met his shoulder. He let out a little groan. You moved your kisses down to his collarbone, positioning your body parallel to his, bracing your arms on the bed.
“You’re so handsome…” You murmured against his skin. He whined again, squirming. You continued to move your kisses down until your lips were in the middle of his chest, about level with his nipples. You moved one hand to his stomach. He let out a sigh, his hands dropping from his face. You rested your cheek on his bare chest. “You’re breaking my heart, the way you’re talking about yourself.”
“I’m sorry…”
“I just wish you saw what I did.”
He whimpered. You moved the hand on his stomach to his side and ran it slowly up and down the length of his torso. You resumed kissing him, down his body, stopping to rub your nose against his skin.
“I’ve just felt so… ugly. And I feel so terrible because you’re so gorgeous, and you should have an attractive husband.”
“Since when have you started worrying about superficial stuff like that?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You’re smarter than to worry about that stuff, Ry. That’s exactly why I love you so much. You’re sensible.”
He quietly thought about what you’d said as you continued peppering kisses onto his skin, now just above his bellybutton. You licked a small stripe of saliva into the trail of hair over his waistband, then kissed just above his hips. He let out another sigh.
“And you’re caring, and empathetic, and thoughtful, and observant, and so, so much more than how you look.” You praised.
“You think so?”
“Why would I care about something completely out of your control?”
“But it is in my control, I used to be a lot more… fit.”
You turned your head again and rested your cheek on the pudge of his stomach, looking up at him. He blushed.
“You’re getting older. It’s bound to happen. The good part is I don’t care.” You fidgeted with the waistband of his sweatpants. “Can I take these off?”
He cleared his throat. “Uhm… why?”
“Why do you think, baby?” You batted your lashes. He swallowed hard. Your eyes followed the movement of his Adam’s apple.
“S-sure.”
You picked up your head from his stomach and he sat up against the headboard, lifting his hips. You slid them down to his ankles. He was hard in his boxers, probably from your kisses. And his thighs… oh Jesus, his thighs. They were definitely plumper, but the sight of them only excited you. You laid on your stomach, head aligned with his crotch. You mouthed at him through his thin boxers, and he groaned at the warmth.
“Please don’t tease me—” He begged shamelessly. You slid a finger under the elastic, then another, and tugged them down. He lifted his hips again to accommodate. They ended up down his legs with his sweatpants.
You tipped your head back down and kissed the top of his thigh. The soft, blonde hair there tickled against your lips in the most satisfying way possible. You moved towards his inner thigh and sucked a mark onto his skin as he squirmed beneath you, toes curling. You licked gently at the reddened spot left behind when you pulled away. You looked up at him through your lashes.
“Mmhm… sweetheart, please…” He whined, a pathetic look on his face. God, how you loved that look.
You started at the base of his shaft, licking up the length to the head of his cock. He moaned your name, his head falling back against the headboard. You flattened your tongue and pressed the underside of it to the leaking slit at the tip. He let out a pathetic whimper.
You took the tip past your lips, salivating enough for it to dribble out of the sides of your mouth and down the rest of his shaft. You turned your head, running your open mouth up and down it, making him lift his hips slightly in response. His breathing was heavy and he was already a mess. You went back up to the head and took more into your mouth than before. Your eyes watered, but you pushed down further.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh—”
His fingers carded through your hair. You relaxed your throat and successfully took his entire length. You started to bob your head up and down, and he began to moan with each movement you made. His fingers tightened in your hair.
“Nngh… baby you’re so gorgeous. I-I love you so… mmh—much…”
His voice was shaky and he struggled to get out his words. You took less of him and focused on speed instead. He tugged at the roots of your hair, his hips starting to rock up into the wet heat of your mouth. You wrapped your fingers around what you could no longer keep down, pumping him with the movements of your head. It wasn’t long before his thighs started to shake and tears ran down his face.
“I’m gonna come, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna—”
He would pick up his head to look at you, only to let it fall back again. Seeing him like this would never get old. You sped your hand up slightly and let your tongue rest flat under his tip, your mouth open. He pulled your hair hard as he spilled into your mouth, his hips bucking into the strokes of your hand. You slowed down the speed of your fist, drawing out his pleasure and collecting his cum on your tongue. He blabbered, his words coming out as whiny moans.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the world and… and I’d do anything for you, anything, whatever you want. I don’t think I’d make it without you. I just… I love you so much. You’re my girl. You’re my whole world. You’re my wife, oh God, you’re my wife and I’ve been ignoring you, I’m such an idiot…” He was crying harder now, hands leaving your hair and covering his face again.
You swallowed what he’d released and licked up what you hadn’t got in the first go. You sat up and blinked away your foggy vision.
“Sweetheart, please. You’re not an idiot.”
“Yes I am!”
“Would you kiss me? I did all that and all I want is a kiss. Just kiss me, Ryland.”
He dropped his hands and took your face into them, pulling you up to his lips. He moved his mouth against yours reverently, sliding his tongue past your lips and running it against your own. He could taste himself and he didn’t mind in the slightest. When he pulled back, he had stopped crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. But please don’t think I don’t find you attractive.”
“I should probably… bring this stuff up before it gets like this.”
“That’d be good.”
“Maybe I’ll talk to a shrink.”
“That’d be good too.”
You pulled his boxers and pants back up and went to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and washed your hands, then fixed your messy hair. You went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. He took it with a thankful expression when you returned.
“You’re too good to me…”
“Oh please. You do a lot more.”
You crawled back onto your side of the bed and flicked off the lamp. He set the half-empty glass of water on his nightstand and flicked off his own light. He took off his glasses and set them beside the cup.
“Will you hold me?” He asked, his voice small.
“Of course.” You opened your arms. He crawled halfway on top of you and nestled his face into your chest, arms around your waist. You rubbed his back with one hand and ran the other through his hair.
“Nighty night…” He mumbled, face muffled by your boobs-turned-pillows.
“Goodnight angel. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
His breathing evened out quickly and he started to snore, a small patch of drool dribbling onto your shirt. You rolled your eyes, but fell asleep soon after, forgetting your annoyance entirely with the comfort of his weight on top of you.