Tom Holland Imagines

Questions (smut ceo!tom)

You had invited Tom over for dinner more or less to ask him an important question, but you weren't sure how to go about it. You had been friends with the young CEO for a few years now, meeting through your mutual friend. Though you had your fair share of sexual tension with Tom, neither of you had ever acted upon it. That is, until you were on the phone and decided to invite him over for dinner; this was the first part of your plan.

After your dinner, full of conversation and glasses of wine, the two of you cleaned up the table. As you began washing the dishes, Tom walked up behind you, his hand ghosting against your lower back slightly, placing his empty wine glass in the sink.

"So, darling, what is it you want to ask me?" He asked, breaking the silence between you. The words lingered in the air, the sound of the faucet and your breathing was all you could hear. A million thoughts ran through your head as he stared at you. He chuckled a bit, reaching for the handle on the faucet, turning it off slowly, but his eyes never left yours. He peered into your soul, trying to decipher your nervousness. "Did you think I didn't notice that you're anxious for some reason, love?"

"I'm not nervous." You said, your voice sounding less confident than you wanted it to as he still watched your facial expressions, the slight change in eye movement made Tom skeptical.

"You've been drinking liquid courage, left and right, I think you're nervous and you want something from me. That is why you asked me here for dinner, correct?" Tom cocked an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest. His white button-up shirt tugged at his arms, becoming tighter in his bicep in result of his training habits. A smirk danced on his lips as he caught your stare trailing up and down his body.

"To an extent." You said simply, swallowing the lump in your throat as Tom tilted his head at you.

"Out with it, darling." He coaxed you and you took a deep breath, hoping to gather some of the courage from the four glasses of wine you had had. You shut your eyes for a second and opened them to see Tom still looking at you, adding to your nervousness.

"Well, y-you see, I haven't had much, um, excitement in the, uh, bedroom recently and I just—I know we're good friends so I thought I could ask for your advice on how I could—you know—spice things up, per se." You admitted and Tom was slightly taken aback, but didn't show it. In fact, he looked to be more confident than ever.

"Are you sure you're just asking my advice? If you are then you've come to the right place, but, are you just coming to me to tell you what you should do? Or do you want me to show you?" He asked and your eyes darted toward the hallway where your bedroom was located before looking back at him.

You were practically speechless as Tom started walking toward you, and you took a step back. He smirked at your nervous body, slightly quaking, not out of fear but out of desire.

"Are you just asking for my advice? Or are you trembling with the desire for me to bend you over that table and fuck you into oblivion?" He asked confidently and your breath hitched in your throat, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

You still didn't say a word, of course you wanted Tom to take you, right then and there, that's all you'd ever wanted. Tom walked toward you still until your back hit the kitchen island behind you. Your hands gripped the edge of the marble countertop, feeling how cold it was against your skin, imagining your bare body against it while he took you and made you his.

"C'mon darling, what is it you want?" He asked darkly, looking into your eyes from above you. Your body quaked, not out of fear, but out of pure lust and desire, and Tom knew it too. He could read you like a book, and he knew there was something off about your demeanor tonight, especially when he showed up in the button-up he knew you loved on him.