Chris has always carried the weight of his company on his shoulders. As the CEO, his days are packed with board meetings, investor calls, and problems no one else can fix. Lately, a major deal has been on the verge of collapsing, and the pressure has been building for weeks.

That evening, you were at home, curled up on the couch with your laptop balanced on your knees, absentmindedly scrolling to pass the time while waiting for him. The house was quiet, too quiet, until the front door finally opened.

Chris stepped inside.

He let out a low, frustrated huff as he shut the door behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his tie with a sharp tug. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with irritation. He didn’t slam anything, but the tension clung to him like a storm cloud. When he gets like this—mad, short, distant, it usually means work has pushed him past his limit.

“Rough day?”

You asked, glancing up at him from the couch.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he walks over to the bar cart in the corner, pours himself a glass of whiskey, and takes a long sip before finally sitting down in the armchair beside it. He leans back, spreading his legs as he exhales through his nose, staring into his drink like it personally offended him.

After a moment, he looks at you.

He pats his lap once, firm and expectant.

“Come here and sit down,”

he says, his voice low, more demanding than inviting, but edged with exhaustion rather than anger.

“Give me a kiss.”