His hand is running over my side again. I'm lying here brooding, clearly in a bad mood, and still, all he can think about is sex. Figures, doesn't it? I was born an intelligent, brooding thinker; he was apparently born with a dick for a brain. God I'm sick of this. Can't he tell that I'm not in the mood? Can't he tell by the frown on my face and the tension in my body? If not, he must be the most insensitive man in the world.

What am I saying? He IS the most insensitive man in the world! He can never focus on our careers; he can never bother to go over our finances to make sure we have money to live on; really he can't do much of anything! I do everything, and I get absolutely no thanks for it. As a "reward", in some twisted sense of the word, I'm expected to spread my legs and act like his brainless little sex doll anytime he calls.

There goes his hand, slipping down into my boxers. I slap his wrist, scowling when he sighs.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he whispers, thankfully withdrawing the offending hand from my boxers. Of course, it's really not much better when his fingers move to fondle my nipples. I wonder if he even recognizes a world outside of sex?

"Just let me sleep," he muttered, trying to turn away from him.

"Hey." He frowns at me, putting his hand on my chest to keep me on my back. "Really, what's wrong? I just wanna be with you, baby."

"Well I don't feel like it," I snap. "Can't you just listen to me, for once? Let me sleep!"

He's still frowning. "Why the hall are you in such a snit?"

Oh yeah, that's gonna get him in my pants. "Because! Now fuck off and go to sleep," I tell him.

He's not relenting. Big surprise. He never gives up when his dick is in control. "What's your problem?" he demanded, sounding more than a little annoyed. "You know I don't think it would be too much to ask for you to actually let me fuck you without bitching about it for half an hour first! How do you think it makes me feel that you treat me like a fucking leper?"

I just roll my eyes, trying to turn away again. He stops me. His expression has softened, which means he's probably gonna try and suck up to me and tell me how much he adores me to get me to put out. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to be harsh. I love you so much, honey, it hurts me when you don't want to be with me. Let me make it up to you, ok?" He starts kissing my neck, his hand sliding down my chest, towards my boxers.

He really listens to me, doesn't he? I guess there's no getting through that thick skull of his. I guess I might as well give it up; at least after it's done, he'll let me go to sleep. Or rather, he'll just roll over and go to sleep. He rarely bothers cuddling; nevermind that he knows I'm a person who really values closeness, and, in the case of a relationship, cuddling. Not that I want to cuddle with him tonight anyway, so I guess it's just as well.

Sighing, I slip off my boxers and roll onto my stomach, sticking my ass up in the air and spreading my legs for him. I wait for a few minutes, but, surprisingly, he doesn't get on top of me, or even touch me. I glance at him, seeing that he's gazing at me with a sad look on his face. "What?" I snap.

"You're just trying to get this over with, aren't you? You don't even want it." No shit, Sherlock. Real bright, isn't he?

"Look, you're getting what you want," I tell him tersely. "Just fuck me and get it over with already! I need to get some sleep."

He sighs, placing a hand on my arm and pushing me onto my back. "Baby, I don't want to fuck you," he whispers, leaning over me, his hair brushing against my cheek. "I want to make love to you. I want to kiss you and caress you and gaze into your eyes."

"Well, take what you can get," I reply callously, pushing him away and turning onto my side. "Since you don't want to fuck, goodnight."

Apparently he's changed his mind, because he grabs me around the waist and pulls me beneath him. I'm facing down, fortunately, so I don't have to make all those cheesy porn-movie expressions he likes to see on me. I spread my legs obediently and let him prepare me, not moving one bit as he enters me. If he wants a partner who actually moves, then he can start listening to me when I try and talk to him. I'll be his little blow up doll if it'll get him to shut up and leave me alone, but I'm not gonna pretend like I actually want this. When I'm in the mood, I can wild as all hell in bed, but when I'm not, I'm like a log, and I really don't give a shit.

"You could at least move a little bit, he growls at me, his hands sliding up to rub my nipples as he thrusts into me. I slap his hands away, still refusing to move.

"Just hurry up and let me sleep," I tell him.

He sighs, but doubles his efforts, coming to a climax in a relatively short amount of time, which I'm definitely grateful for. As soon as he's done, I roll away from him and close my eyes. "Night," I mutter. He tries to wrap an arm around my back, but I shrug it off. With a sigh, he retreats to his own side of the bed and settles down.

This relationship sucks. It just plain sucks. That's the last thought in my head before I drift off to sleep.

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