(I made this little headcanon then had to write a fic for it. Here's 2k words of the 118 being obsessed with Tommy ft. Bobby being a dad, of course. Enjoy here or on ao3!)
The Problem
Buck has a problem.
He knows it shouldn't be a problem. Knows he should be grateful. He's never had anything like this before. Never felt so secure in his life. Work is good, home is good, friends are good, family's good, and his boyfriend... well, he's really good.
Buck is in love, like really and truly in love, for the first time ever. Yes, he's said it before, and maybe he meant it, but not like this. He's never had this much stability, and care, and comfort, and security. Buck doesn't just love Tommy, he feels loved by Tommy. Since the moment the words I love you slipped out of Tommy's mouth, there has never been a doubt in his mind that Tommy means it. And he knows that Tommy feels the same way about him too.
But none of that is the problem.
The problem is he's not the only one who loves Tommy.
All of his coworkers love Tommy.
A lot.
Apparently he is a very popular guy with the 118. Buck always knew Tommy was a cool guy, even when he first tried and failed to discredit the claim, but he didn't realize that every single one of his coworkers would also think Tommy was the coolest guy to ever walk the planet.
Okay, maybe they didn't actually think that, but it was obvious that they liked him and they wanted to be around him.
All. The. Time.
At first it was cute. Buck was thrilled that everyone liked the person he was dating. He was overjoyed that they always had something positive to say about Tommy, that they had him included in group chats, and invited him to hangout with the team after a shift.
Then it became... a lot to manage.
Chimney and Tommy had a long history, so it was to be expected that they would hang out on occasion. They both loved to watch classic movies and, while Buck didn't mind one every once in a while, he wasn't a huge fan of black and white so he let them have their time with that. He just didn't expect Chimney to add the Old Classics Movie Network to his cable subscription so there was always another movie being recorded that they needed to watch and analyze.
Tommy and Eddie were already friends, and Buck and Eddie were best friends, so it was easy for the three of them to hang out. Buck could get into wrestling, he liked karaoke trivia, and he was a big fan of learning Muay Thai. But that's where Eddie had a problem.
“Every time you come to Muay Thai,” Eddie whined, “you and Tommy end up going one round, get all horned up, and leave early.”
“All horned up?” Buck repeated with a glare. “What are we, fifteen?”
“You're banned from Muay Thai,” he declared, holding up a finger to silence Buck's incoming protests, “at least once a week.”
Then there was Hen, who Buck thought would care the least of them all.
He was wrong.
She became convinced that she was the reason he and Tommy ever got together, not Chimney.
“Chimney may have been the one to contact Tommy, but it was me who planted the seed in his head,” she'd say, “so I was actually the one who connected you two.”
It turns out Tommy and Karen also had a lot of similar interests, so one double date turned into regular double dates. Often, Karen was texting or calling Tommy to set up the next double date before Buck even knew a thing about it.
Hen also enjoyed Tommy's dry humor. They could battle back and forth for hours in sarcasm wars, and often enjoyed hating on the same things.
Even Ravi wedged his way into Tommy's life. He actually wanted flying lessons for other purposes than staring at Tommy for hours at a time while he rambled on about what each button did.
And Tommy was so kind, so insanely, annoyingly, kind that he always made time for everybody. Buck had no idea how he did it, but he did. He even always had time for Buck too, Buck just wanted more of it.
He knew it was selfish. He knew Tommy deserved to have all the friends and found family in the world, which is why he'd never say anything to him about it.
But, he could talk to Bobby. Ask Bobby to talk to the rest of the team, because he'd tried and they wouldn't listen to him. Or, maybe Bobby could just schedule him off a day where everyone else worked? Give Buck and Tommy a day where distractions weren't possible, because all of the distractions were busy at the station. Surely he could do something.
He should've known better.
The second he tapped on Bobby's office door, Bobby excitedly waved him in.
“It came in the mail today,” he declared, as if Buck was supposed to know what that meant.
“Wh- What came in the mail?” Buck asked cautiously as he sat down.
“The murder mystery game Tommy and I talked about last time you guys came over. I had no clue he was so into puzzles and mysteries. I already talked to Tommy, and you two are coming over for dinner tonight.”
“We are?” Buck asked. This was a lot of information to be thrown his way so quickly.
“Yes. Well, he actually said he'd ask you about it and then confirm, but you already said you didn't have plans earlier, so...”
He should've known that question was a trap. Bobby had asked what everyone's plans were while they were on the way to a call earlier in the day. Buck had answered that he and Tommy didn't have any, which was risky, but his mind went blank in the moment. His actual plans involved a lot of nudity, mind blowing sex, and hopefully some whipped cream, but he was trying to not be so blatant about his sex life anymore.
But now Bobby was looking at him with wide, excited eyes, and he did remember Tommy talking about that game, and Bobby's food was always so good, so it wasn't like he could say no.
“Yeah, of course it's fine.”
Which led them to now, having just enough time to shower and change before driving over to Bobby and Athena's place.
“I know we haven't had as much us time lately,” Tommy said as they reached the door. Of course he did. Of course he noticed everything. “So we'll stay for dinner, and do this game, and we'll go by nine.”
Buck tried to play it cool. “No rush.”
“Evan,” Tommy replied knowingly, dropping a kiss on his temple, “we'll go by nine.”
Who was Buck to argue? “Yeah... Yeah, okay.”
Dinner went smoothly, as if there was another option. Tommy was always great at keeping up conversation, and he and Bobby knew tons of people to reminisce about and catch up on. Tommy had a long history with Athena as well, and a lot of mutual respect between the two, so the conversation never stalled.
It wasn't like Buck was ever left out either. Bobby and Athena were his family; more of his parents than his actual parents. Bobby cared for him, loved him, watched over him in ways his father never did. Athena was a dose of reality when he needed it. She was stern, expected the best from him, and didn't whitewash anything. He felt more comfortable in their home than he ever did in the house he grew up in.
And Tommy always had a hand on his leg, or his back, including him in the conversation or bragging on whatever he did at work that week. When Buck talked, Tommy looked at him like nothing else existed in the world. He listened, hung on to every word.
He made Buck feel special.
Which is why Buck wanted to take him home, rip off all of his clothes, and adore every inch of his body.
He couldn't do that yet though, because it was only seven-thirty and they still had to play the murder mystery game.
It started innocently enough. It was a fun game with pictures, paperwork, some evidence, and background on all the suspects. Buck figured they'd read through the material, follow along, and they'd be led to the murderer in no time.
Then Bobby rolled out the cork board and began pinning suspect photographs and pictures from the “crime scene”.
Things devolved from there.
Athena gave up before nine. “I solve murders all day long, I don't want to do it all night too.”
Buck still held out hope they'd leave on time.
Another mistake.
“Hon, it's getting late,” Buck said a little after nine, gently patting Tommy's back. They were sitting beside one another at the dining room table. Buck had been half paying attention, half going through a Wikipedia rabbit hole that started with active US serial killers and had somehow ended up on the origins of duct tape. “Maybe we should let them get some rest.”
“Buck, we haven't solved the murder yet,” Bobby replied, lifting both of his hands to show all the paperwork. “Cassie's ex-boyfriend is a prime suspect, but I have no physical evidence to prove he did it.”
“I think we should look more into the circus clown,” Tommy replied, handing Bobby yet another piece of fictional paperwork. “I learned a long time ago that you never trust a clown.”
“We already cleared the clown. He had an alibi.”
“Did he though? His best friend, the balloon artist, was his alibi. The clown could've paid him off.”
That's when Buck decided he'd be better off slipping away and joining Athena in the living room.
“Would you like some leftover pie?” Athena asked, eyebrow raised knowingly, as she lifted up her own slice.
Buck nodded. “I got it.”
He returned a moment later, pie in hand, extra whipped cream. He sat down on the couch, across from where Athena was curled up on the loveseat.
“There's not much on right now,” Athena said, staring at the TV, “but these home improvement shows always find a way to reel me in.”
“As long as it's not a murder mystery, I'll enjoy it.”
Athena let out a laugh. “They're in it deep, aren't they?”
“I'm not sure an actual murder would take them away from that game.”
Athena shook her head, peering into the dining room. “Our boys are something else, aren't they?”
Buck smiled. He couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach. The night may not be going as planned, but there was something so sweet, so domestic, about it all.
Everything felt... right.
“Yeah,” he replied, “they're something.”
Two more shows started and ended, and Tommy and Bobby could still be heard in the other room, arguing about whether it was the clown or the ex.
“You know, I looked up that game a while ago,” Athena whispered into the darkness of the living room, the only light from flashes on the TV, “and it wasn't the clown or the ex.”
Buck sighed sleepily. “I think we'll be spending the night tonight,” he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing where he laid on the couch.
“Already made up the guest bedroom,” Athena replied, taking another sip of her drink. “New toothbrushes in the bathroom too.”
It'd be another two hours before Tommy would come and gently wake up Buck and lead him to the guest bedroom. They'd brush their teeth, and change into some of Bobby's pajama pants before snuggling in bed.
And then, before the sun rose, Tommy would be popping up from a dead sleep to exclaim, “It was the candlemaker!” before running out of the room, and apparently right into Bobby who- from the sounds of their mumbled laughter and high fives- had the same epiphany.
Yeah, Buck had a problem. And he hoped he had it for the rest of his life.
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returning home
(cw: age gap 26/41; nsfw, mdni, smut, a bit of angst and drama, fluffiness and a lot of tears)
the part before: it's the parts of König that she didn't see
a/n: i'm sorry, this got a bit out of hand :') over 9k words, buckle in, we're in for a ride
I have been a mess those past four months. This has been the worst breakup of my life. I mean, not that I had that many partners before. And the only one I still sometimes cry after is my highschool sweetheart.
But this… we weren’t even an official thing. König and I spent a lot of time together in those few weeks, yes. But we never even clarified if we were in a relationship or not. Dating. Being exclusive. And sure, I was basically living at his place after only a week of knowing each other. But that didn’t mean anything in retrospect. Apparently.
You can’t really call in sick for a broken heart and I wasn’t able to leave my bed for a few days. Sleeping a lot, listening to all the sad love songs, barely eating. Until my mom came by, basically kicking me off my mattress. Forcing me – in a loving way – to get a grip and not mope around like a heartbroken mess.
The worst part was when I found one of his hoodies in between my stuff, I must have accidentally packed it with my clothes when I got everthing together, and it still smelled like him. It doesn't anymore because I have been wearing it nonstop when I'm at home. Not outside though, because the piece of clothing looks ridiculous on me with how big it is compared to my size. I could fit myself in there three times and the hem falls over my knees. If I press my face into the fabric, I still pick up hints of his scent. At least that’s what I tell myself.
The marks on my body faded too. The hickeys he left on my skin becoming fainter by each day, until they were gone.
I looked at all the pictures we took together. Well, more like, I took them and König is also in them. And the selfies we sent each other. The only ones I didn't keep were the filthy ones, because it felt wrong, so I deleted them. But I didn't have the heart to do that to the pictures of us, the ones that carried the memories. And it stopped hurting as much over time. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Lying in bed. The one he bought and we built together, because he broke mine. It's unfair, really, because he is gone and I can't escape him still. Repeating his words to me in my mind.
You should be with someone your age.
It never had been a topic for me, not something I would've spent a second thought on, at least not like this. But apparently, it had been on his mind.
Someone who can promise you that they'll come back every time.
And in the back of my mind there is still the little voice that wishes that he would just have had the guts to be with me. Despite the possibility of him not coming back in one piece, leaving me to mourn him. Because like this, he isn't in my life either. And I still worry about him, because there is no way for me to know that he still is in this life.
He didn't even want to hear my side of things. Or maybe he wanted to, but I was just too blindsided by it all, frozen in place as he “broke up” with me.
Afterwards, when I thought about what he said, I wanted to scream. To shout at him. Even if I could never really do that. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask him, what the fuck he was thinking. Why the fuck he was thinking that.
Fuck. I’m so sorry, Liebes.
His apologies didn’t help either. Because I wanted to be mad at him. I was mad at him, and I still am. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Because even though I get it - I get what he was telling me - I still don’t fully understand.
And I remember the look on his face as he was crouched before me. When it became painfully clear that I couldn’t read him.
I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.
Well, I didn’t either. But it did. And he left, even though he felt the same way. Or at least so I thought.
After a few weeks I finally feel better. I’m okay with how it is. That’s what I tell myself.
Not at all ready to go out on dates again. Not that there is any rush. Not that there had been that many occasions, but still. The thought alone of being with somebody that's not him…
I get back to work, meet my friends, hang out with my family, and when they ask me how I’m doing, I can convincingly tell them I’m okay.
Almost every night the thing on my mind before I fall asleep is him. Nothing, but him, and how I wish he was lying right next to me. I still just want him to come back.
And I know I’m not making any sense. It’s just gonna take some more time to get over this.
When I wake up one morning and see the messages on my phone, I don't even realize what they mean at first.
I'm coming back tomorrow
I don't deserve you, but if there's any chance that you'd want to see me again... I’m landing at the airfield in [REDACTED], at 1130
I'm sorry, and I understand if you've moved on
or maybe we can talk sometime this week if you're busy
whatever works for you
or maybe you don’t want to talk to me at all which is fine as well, of course
just let me know
in Liebe, König
I blink, reading the messages over and over again. The little incoherent ramble until it finally clicks. He's coming back.
I groan, putting the phone away, hiding my face in my hands. Contemplating what I should do as the possibility of seeing him again churns in my stomach. And all the emotions come flooding back, tears pricking in the corner of my eye. God damn it.
Men and women are disembarking from the aircraft and I crane my neck, looking for him.
I’ve been waiting here for some time cause they were running late. And I’m not the only one, there are quite a bunch of people waiting. Probably families and partners? They all seemed relaxed, at least more relaxed than me.
I’m hopping from one leg to the other, my hands feel a little clammy as I knead them. And honestly, I’m a little nauseous.
More people in gear than I would have thought come off the plane, meeting up with their relatives, mingling with each other or just leaving.
I already fear that I completely misunderstood his messages, but that couldn’t have been possible, right? Maybe I shouldn't have come here, and just told him I’ll see him some time this week, maybe I shou-
Two more figures emerge from the cargo hold, coming down the ramp. I don’t recognize the man on the right, but the one on the left…
Beige cargo-pants, protectors on the knees and shins. A simple longsleeved shirt, black of course, and a bulletproof vest. Gloves and more protectors on his arms. The band of bright red beads around his wrist.
The mask, the hood fashioned out of simple fabric, red streaks down underneath the eyeholes, held in place by the helmet atop his head. Hiding his face away.
Fuck.
I only saw a picture of him in gear once, when he showed me, but I still would have recognized him instantly. His tall build, the attitude with which he carries himself, gives him away. This get-up can’t hide it.
He stills. Frozen in place, and from the distance I can’t make out anything.
I just stand there, unsure if he already saw me. And I lift my hand, just a little wave, before I drop it again.
Shit, maybe I should have told him that I was coming.
But then he starts running towards me. A slight jog at first, his strides getting longer with every step. I can’t just stand here either, my legs almost moving on their own.
Dropping the bag that hung over his shoulder. His gloved hands are fumbling with his helmet, until he gets it off, just throwing it away, and pulling of the mask too, and when I see his face for the first time in month, I feel tears prick in the corner of my eyes. Running a little faster, only a few meters between us now. The skin around his eyes is smeared with eyeblack, his long hair is clinging to his head, as he also gets rid of the balaclava, just pushing it down, so it sits around his neck, and then…
He stops, just a step before me, not to run me over, but I don’t, jumping up, jumping into his arms, the full impact of my body against his not moving the big guy a little bit. I’m clinging onto his shoulders as he catches me in his embrace. I’m burying my face in his neck, and when his scent hits my nostrils, a little sharper than usual, gunpowder and sweat mixing with his warm soothing scent, the tears flow free, staining his balaclava, wetting his cheeks. Sobs are shaking me as he presses me against him, my legs hugging around his waist.
“I missed you so fucking much.”, he says, his deep voice shaky, and I can’t even answer because it just makes me cry more. “Ssssh, Liebes. Don’t cry.”, he tries to comfort me, but hearing his favourite term of endearment only lets the tears flow freely. “I didn’t wanna make you cry.”
“To-oo late for - that.”, I press out between two sobs.
“I’m so sorry, fuck.”, he sighs, his arms closing even tighter around me. “I don't know how I will ever make it up to you.” His gloved hand is softly caressing down my back.
“I missed you too.”, I finally manage to say, my voice thick with tears, pressing myself against him, and I never wanna let go.
But I need to pull back, only a little, just to look at him again. Touch him. Convince myself that this is real.
My vision is blurred, but that’s still him, his face so close to mine. His gaze intently on me, while one of my hands grabs him, my fingers caressing over his jaw, the stubble a little longer than I’m used to, the smudged black colour around the eye area making him look a little different. He leans into my palm, the eyebrows pulling up and the tension melting away.
His hand cups mine, his thumb softly caressing over it, such soft touches and another small sob is shaking me.
“I don’t want to overstep anything.”, he whispers. “But I would really like to kiss you.”
And I nod, not able to speak the words yet. And before he can lean in, I already press my lips to his. When my mouth meets his, and I taste the saltiness of my tears intermingling with his scent, the wave of relief that floods me is indescribable.
It's as soft as I remember, something that always surprised me. How soft his kisses are.
The way his lips press against mine, like he's searching for something, tasting me. Nipping at my lower lip, his nose rubbing against mine. His stubble scratching over my skin as he tilts his head.
He presses kisses to the corner of my mouth, my cheeks, my nose. All over my face, slowly drying up my tears, and I take a deep breath, calming myself down. He really is back.
When I finally take a look around, I realise that we’re off to the side a bit, but not that far away from the others on the tarmac, so… this must be quite the spectacle for his colleagues and the people who waited for them. Some of them are in tight hugs or talking with the civilians, but some are also looking in our direction, every once in a while. I don't have any time to feel self-conscious though, about being a teary mess.
And the guy who disembarked the aircraft with König comes our way, a little hesitantly, but smiling at us both.
“Köni.”, he says in a deep, but friendly voice, omitting the g in his name.
“Horangi.”, König says, setting me down, but keeping me close by his side, and I wouldn’t have moved an inch away.
The man in front of us is dressed in green and beige camo, quite different from what the big guy is wearing except for the pants. A similarly coloured balaclava around his neck and sporty sunglasses on his head, sitting on top of it in his hair, complete the look.
“I heard so much about you.”, he says lightly, addressing me.
“You did?” My eyebrows shoot up, almost colliding with my hairline.
He nods, grinning, not fazed at all by the threatening stare from König. “Yes. Every time he drank just a little too much, he wouldn't shut up about you.”, Horangi says. “You did a number on the guy.”
I don't know what to say to that at first, honestly a little gobsmacked. “I did?”
“Yeah, yeah, now fuck off.”, König says to Horangi, patting the other man’s back, the frown on his face turning into a grumpy smile.
“See ya, Colonel.”, he says with a grin. “Enjoy your leave.”, adding a little joking salute, before stomping off.
I wave after him, confused for a moment. Colonel?
“Don't mind him.”, König grumbles as I turn to him again, but he doesn't look mad in the slightest bit. “He doesn't know how to behave sometimes.”
My arms closing around his waist, and he repositions me a bit, so the straps on his bullet proof vest don’t press into my cheek.
“So, you really did miss me.”, I say pulling him tighter. Not a question, a statement.
“I did.”, he answers almost solemn as he brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face.
Some of the soldiers are still standing around, talking to each other and the people around them, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
“They’re still looking.”, I whisper to him, unsure what that means.
“Yeah, cause they’re all seeing my face.”, he whispers back, smiling down at me.
Right, the hood!
“Oh shit, I forgot about the mask thing.”, I say, my hand clasping over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine.”, he says softly. “They'll survive seeing my face. And I will too.”
“Right, still.”
“Don’t worry about it. I asked you to come here.” He pauses for a moment. “More on a whim, cause I didn’t really think you actually would.”
I take a deep breath. “To be honest, until this morning I didn’t know either.” My eyes pan up to meet his. When I woke up, I knew that I wanted to see him. But only when I got into my car, I called into work to take a personal day off and instead drove here.
“I’m glad you did.”, he says, holding my gaze.
“Me too.”, I whisper back.
“Cause Horangi was right. I was miserable.”
Just like I was. “Really?”, I ask him again, almost soundlessly.
“I was fucking miserable without you.”, he repeats, picking me up again and pressing another kiss to my lips.
I think I don't wanna leave his embrace ever again. But we still have stuff to talk about. Stuff to sort out. And we really can't do that here.
Plus his kisses have their usual effect. As the emotional turmoil and tears dissipate, a familiar feeling spreads through my body, my lower belly tensing up.
“You’re here in your car?”, he asks quietly in between two more kisses. Getting more desperate.
“Yeah.”, I say. “I parked it around the corner.”
“Okay, you wanna get out of here then?”
I just nod, kissing him again, and his little hum against my lips lets tingles erupt all over me. Then we're out of here.
Not before picking up his helmet and hood that he shed on the way, me still in his arms, getting his duffle bag, and I can’t help the little giggle escaping me, because he refuses to set me down when he bends down. Carrying me like I weigh nothing, also not willing to leave my side even for a moment.
On the way to the car, it gets even a little more heated and I’m glad when we turn the corner, hiding away from other eyes.
He’s taking huge strides, heading right for my car, that he spotted in an instant, the small silver one.
My fingers are tangled in his hair, his hands grabbing my ass and thighs, and I pull the car key out my pocket and unlock it. He opens the car door, lying me down on the cushioned seat and I scoot back to make room for him.
Reminders flood my brain how we did it in the back of his car, much bigger than the Toyota I drive. It’s way too small for him, but that doesn’t stop us.
I push off my shoes and get my pants off quickly as he climbs in over me, his shoulders pressing up against the roof of the car, while he sheds his protectors and gloves and shuts the door behind him.
A moment later, I’m folded in half, my knees against my chest, the feet up in the air brushing against the frame of the car. His hands gripping my thighs, spreading me for him.
König is eating me out like a starved man, soft mewls and grunts dropping from his lips, the vibrations of them against my sensitive skin.
“Oh fuck.”, I groan.
His hair is falling over his face, but I just want to see him, brushing the strands back. His gaze burning into me as he looks up at me, the eyeblack giving him a rugged look.
Desperately licking me, my juices glistening all over the lower part of his face. The stubble that is longer than usual is scratching against the insides of my thighs, but I don’t care about that right now, in the contrary, the soft scratch right there makes me even hotter.
It’s him. in this get-up, a little different than I was used to, but it’s him.
When he slips his fingers into me, his lips closing around my clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, something that always made me lose my mind fast, and this is no exception.
The way he fills me up, his thick digits stretching me. His tongue working my pussy, knowing exactly what makes me cry out. His mouth wandering, littering my inner thigh with kisses and hickeys.
The bites and nibbles send shivers down my body, my hips rutting forward, pushing my pussy into him. His arm comes over tummy, holding me in place, so I can't escape his touches.
“Yes, please, just-”, I sigh, and I can feels how he curls his fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot.
I come around them, my cries a bit too loud in my own ears in the small space, and I almost bump my head into the car door behind me as he doesn’t let up, but dives in again. His tongue is toying with my clit, dragging over it, slow, broad licks, and my body shakes and convulses.
“König…”, I plead, my hand tangled in his hair.
He finally pulls back a bit, still lapping everything up, even putting his own fingers in his mouth. His lips closing around them, his lids fluttering for just a moment.
“You taste so fucking good, Kleine.”, he whispers, not breaking eye contact as he meticulously licks my arousal off them, and I can’t help the blush on my face, especially when his tongues darts through between them. Fuck.
Instead of an answer, I pull him into me, to kiss him again, tasting myself on his lips, my hands dropping to his belt, fumbling with the clasp. I want more. I want him.
“Wait.”, he says, his hand coming over mine, I can feel the lingering wetness on them, and I still for a moment. “Shouldn’t we like…”
“You…. don’t want to?”
"No, of course I do, Liebes… I just want to do it right, you know? Make it right. In a proper bed."
I pull one of my eyebrows up. He thinks about that now after eating me out. "We can still do that later, no worries."
"But- I-"
"Yeah, that's all really noble, but right now I just need you." I kiss him again. "So shut up and fuck me. Please.", I say, still fumbling with his belt.
“I don’t have any condoms with me.”, he says, still not helping me to get his gear off.
I pull up an eyebrow. “And?” We did it raw many times, why would it be…
"Did you not... You didn't...?", he stammers, his eyes searching mine.
And then it dawns on me. "If you're gonna ask, if I slept with somebody else in the meantime, I suggest you don't. Because I fucking didn't." Adding after a moment’s pause: “Did you?”
"Fuck, no.”, he answers without hesitation, but his whole body is still shaken with agitation. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I just-" His hand strokes through his hair, exasperated, straightening up a bit and almost hitting his head on the roof of the car.
"König."
He stills, his eyes on me again and I can see the turmoil in them.
"I didn't want anybody else, I just wanted you back.", I say, my voice a little shaky. "And now that I've got you back, I just need to feel you. We can talk and do all the other stuff after getting home, okay?"
Home. The word slipped over my lips before I could think about it. It's out there before I can take it back.
He doesn't move a bit, just looks at me incredulously, and my hand shoots out to grab him which pulls him from his thoughts.
“I do not fucking deserve you.”, he whispers, and then it all happens very quickly. Pulling the zipper down and getting his dick out, the tip slipping between my folds.
He doesn't wait a moment longer and we both groan in unison when he slides into me, and the familiar feeling floods me, the stretch deliciously making me squirm.
Yet my eyes don't leave his for even a moment, not daring to close them, in case this is still a dream and he did not really come back.
But when he grasps my chin, tilting it up and leaning down to press his lips to mine, the tears that have been welling up again roll down my cheeks, the wetness blurring my vision.
I wipe them away, aggressively, a little mad at myself that I just can't stop crying. “Fuck, just… I-” I sigh. “Those fucking tears.”
He’s not saying anything, his thumb brushing over my cheek, a soothing gesture. His lips are peppering kisses all over my face as he starts to fuck me, slowly and sweetly.
I look down to where we are connected, seeing him push into me, seeing and feeling his dick slip into me. As deep as he can go.
With the position I’m in, folded in half, my belly is bulging with every thrust, just a bit, but still. And when he bottoms me out, time after time after time, I inadvertently squeeze around him.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”, he groans.
He’s not fucking me fast, more hard and deep. The sound of skin against skin when his lap collides with the plush of my thighs, loud and quite heavy. And I’m underneath him, framed by his strong arms, holding onto them.
Every single one of his thrusts lets a moan slip out of me, especially with how his pubic bone is pressing up against my sensitive clit, over and over again.
My breath hits his face, the look on it still a little incredulous, the almost enamored smile.
His breath is getting heavier too, rattling grunts shaking his chest. I wanna feel them, I wanna feel his rapid heartbeat against my fingertips. My hand slips under his vest, the other one holding onto it. The soft fabric of his compression shirt is warm, feeling his heartbeat strum against the palm of my hand, as I look up at him. Back in one piece. Alive.
The telltale signs how close he is are written on his face. The breath that halts in his throat every so often. The way his jaw drops. His brows draw together, not his usual frown, the ever-present scowl. Ecstasy visible on his features. And his eyes pressing together, for just a moment.
Looking down at me again, he’s still fucking me, my knees pressed up against my chest, his propped-up arms carrying most, but not all of his weight. My fingers are grabbing his bulletproof vest, needing him closer. The buttons of his waistband and the belt pressing into my ass with every thrust.
But all those sensations get overtaken when my second orgasm washes over me abruptly, just holding onto him, and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, when he doesn’t stop. The pushes of his hips, how he rolls them into me, getting a little more desperate, almost losing the rhythm, as I clench around him.
He’s buried deep inside me, filling me up when he comes, and groans drop from his lips. His face contorting in pleasure. I missed his stupid face, and apparently I also missed his O-face.
He takes a big breath, backing off a bit, giving me a moment to reposition my legs. When his dick slips out of me, I sigh, feeling a bit empty and the wetness against my stomach as it rests over it.
His big heavy body slumps over me, and we just stay like that for a while. Cheek to cheek. My arms around his neck, his hands softly caressing down my body.
Maybe I could even stay like this forever.
Again I remember the time we did it on the backseat of his car, that was much more spacious. Half an eternity ago. Only the second time we ever did it.
Softly kissing now and then. The little sounds and our breath the only thing in the calm silence around us, until he breaks it.
“Can I take you home?”
“Yes.”, I answer without hesitation. We still have some stuff to sort out, and we should get going.
He’s zipping himself up, I put on my pants again, his cum seeping into my panties now, but I don’t even care and get into the driver’s seat, the doors close behind us.
And for once he is in the passenger’s seat, my car still way too small for the big man. It’s almost ridiculous how his stature fills the car. He almost has to duck his head like this, even without the helmet, dwarfing the whole space.
I chuckle a little, put on some music and start driving.
“So Colonel, huh?”, I ask him, pulling an eyebrow up.
“Yeah.”, he says, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know why I never told you.”
“It’s okay.”, I say. “I guess, that doesn’t really matter in the civilian life.”
“It doesn’t.”, he agrees. “But it also feels like I wasn’t fully honest with you. Which is shitty.”
I clasp my hand over his for a moment, squeezing his fingers. A little reassurance. I don't care about his rank cause it doesn't change anything anyway, and I also never bothered to ask.
“So, I wouldn't get in trouble for insubordination if I called you Sir and not Colonel?”, I ask him, teasingly.
His brows furrow, that certain look in his eyes like always when I was being bratty - and I missed that too.
“You won't.”, he grumbles.
I can't help the little laugh. “Good to know.”
I look to the side, and there he is. It’s him, even in this get-up, it’s him. In my car.
And he’s grinning back at me, not as bright as I was used to, but still. I shake my head as I look back onto the street. He really is back.
I pull into the driveway, the sight of his house alone pulling at my heartstrings. The heavy feeling hits me, the lightheartedness I felt before taking a little hit, even before turning the motor off, getting out the car and heading inside.
He unlocks the door and goes inside, putting down the duffle bag, as I follow him. I stand around a little unsure, taking my shoes off, before heading to the living room.
When I see the couch, I have to swallow my emotions down, not ready to cry again. The memories come rushing back and I just need a moment to take it all in.
Heavy steps behind me, warmth emanating from his body. His presence so tangible, even when he’s not touching me. I’m still so tuned into him.
And I turn.
God damn, I almost forgot how big he is. He fills the doorframe that has been fit to his height. His shoulders seeming even broader in his gear. His head almost grazing the top of the frame.
And I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. We just stand here for a moment.
“I need to shower.. you, uh-”, he starts.
“I’m just gonna wait here, okay?”
He nods. “Yes, of course.” He hands me his phone. “You wanna order something to eat in the meantime? For us.”
“I can do that.”
“Pick whatever you like.”, he tells me before rushing up the stairs with huge strides, taking his bag with him.
I sigh and take a seat at the dinner table we barely ever used. Not daring to sit on the couch like I usually would have.
Unlocking his phone, only clicking on the delivery app, of course. Searching for his favourite take-out place, the grill with the nice little garden out back.
Does he deserve it? I don't know, maybe not. But I'm not gonna be petty over food. I’m adding another dessert for myself, though.
After I placed the order, I put his phone away, picking up mine instead. Scrolling on the usual apps, waiting because I don't know what else to do. He’s taking longer than I’m used to for the shower. And I can feel myself getting a bit restless. My mind coming back to the things he said. When he broke up with me and then today when he came back.
Heavy steps are coming down the stairs, him emerging in a get up I’m more used to, a simple black shirt and shorts.
His hair is still a bit wet, clinging to him in strands. He’s freshly shaved too, the stubble he had before gone. And I can smell the clean and sharp tone of his after-shave when he walks up to me.
“Food will be here soon.”, I tell him, because I don’t know what else to say.
“Okay, thank you.”
“Your favorite.”
“You didn't need to do that.”
“I know.” I hand him back his phone. “And I didn't snoop through it or anything.”
He nods, acknowledging my comment. “I trust you.” He steps a bit closer, taking it. “But you wouldn't have found anything noteworthy either. My phone is embarrassingly empty.” He looks up from the device, to me, a lopsided wry smile adorning his face. “Mostly work emails and photos of you I couldn't bring myself to delete.”
“Yeah?”
He nods.
“What’s the other stuff?”
“Photos of Mimi.” His smile is turning into a grin.
“That little minx. I should have known.”, I say exasperated, but jokingly.
He’s still standing there, swaying from one foot to the other ever so slightly, and almost wanna tell him to just sit down.
“I thought about calling you. I just didn't know what to say.”, he says, his voice quiet. “I wasn't even sure you'd pick up.”
“I don't know if I could have handled talking to you over the phone.”, I say carefully, but honestly. I probably wouldn’t have picked up.
He just nods. “I understand.”
“I actually didn’t know what to think when you texted me.”, I continue. “It was a lot. After a few months of no bleep, no nothing.”
“I wanted to text you. I just chickened out every time.”, he says. “But Horangi kicked some sense into me.”
“Does he do that often?”, I ask, biting back a grin, when remembering the conversation with him earlier. How he basically snitched on him, painting the a bit pathetic picture of drunk König who missed me so much that he wouldn't shut up about me. After he broke up with me of his own volition.
He tilts his head to the side, grudgingly admitting: “Sometimes.”
“And we all need friends like that sometimes.”, I say.
He laughs a little and confesses. “Yeah, he actually helped me phrase the messages because I just didn’t know how I-” He breaks off. “I meant everything I said though.” His eyes find mine again. “I would've understood if you didn't have time or if you just didn't wanna see me. But I still had to try. And I meant it earlier, when I said that I’m glad you came.”
The look on his face, almost pleading. And I feel the same way, but being here with him still feels a little… overwhelming.
“I-”
The doorbell ringing disrupts our conversation. He turns and hurries to the door. I can hear him talk to the delivery person as I get up and hurry to the kitchen to get plates and cutlery.
We’re both coming back a few moments later, setting everything down on the dinner table, taking a seat next to each other. Opening up the containers of food, laying everything out. Loading our plates up, my stomach grumbling. I hadn’t eaten all day, too anxious and nervous. I dig in, taking spoonsfuls of the veggies with rice, and I feel how his eyes are on me, how he’s watching me.
I meet his eyes when he breaks the silence again.
“I missed your birthday, didn't I?”, he asks, but judging from the look on his face he already knows the answer.
“Yeah, a few weeks ago.”, I say, nodding.
“Now there's ‘only’ 15 years between us.”, he says, matter-of-factly.
“There are.”, I agree. “But it doesn’t matter. 15, 16, what’s the difference.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I put my fork down for a moment and just tell him outright what I have been thinking: “When I teased you, it was never about that. Our age difference never was an issue for me, you know. But I will never call you an old man again, if there is a chance that you will throw it in my face like that.” I pause. “Again.”
“I’m not gonna do that - again.”, he reassures me.
“Good.” I take a deep breath. “If I had known that this was plaguing you, I could have put your mind at ease. Or at least tried.”
“It’s not on you.”, he says with a sigh, his hand dragging over his face for just a moment, rubbing over his eyes. I can feel the frustration emanating off him. “I just- I tried to hide it.” Like he also tried to hide it when he had shit days. I wanna grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
“I figured. Because the whole… conversation came out of nowhere for me.”
“Yeah, I felt like such an asshole afterwards. I went about it the most blunt way. The whole thing anyway… it was a mistake.”, he continues, point-blank. “And I’m sorry for that.”
If we had this talk only weeks after he left, I would have been so mad still. The distance helped. It's also helping right now. Acknowledging that it had been a mistake, it doesn't make the "break up"-thing go away. But I feel like I still needed to hear that.
“It’s okay.”, I whisper.
He shakes his head. “It’s not.”, he says. “It wasn’t okay.”
“I know.” I reach for him, our fingers intertwining, my thumb softly caressing over the back of his hand. Our eyes meet and I can see his emotions in them, clearer than ever before. Not trying to hide them anymore. And I understand. A little smile stalks onto my face.
“Let’s just eat, okay?”
And I never have to tell him that twice.
After we finished up, he carries the plates and leftovers to the kitchen, refusing my help, and I finally take a seat on the big couch, slumping into the cushions.
König emerges in the doorframe, just standing there. Frozen in place. I put my phone down and for a moment we just look at each other. The same familiarity hits me, but the guilty look on his face tells me why he’s not moving an inch closer.
It's a bit ridiculous. We fucked, we ate together, we talked about some of the shit that went down. He apologized - again.
I softly pat the cushion beside me. “Come here.”
He’s taking a few steps, hesitatingly approaching and sitting down. But he stops there. I look up at him from the side, and I have never seen him so unsure. It's almost a little sweet.
Grabbing him, I pull him down to me and he just lets me. Positioning his head in my lap, cradling his face, and he lies down the feet dangling over the side of the couch. When my hand caresses over his chest, he sighs. Relaxing into the cushions. I can almost hear the weight drop from his shoulders as he melts into my touch. His hand clinging onto my arm. His brows turning up as he looks up at me.
For a moment we just sit in silence and I let the calmness flood me that his proximity brings. Playing with the long strands of his hair. Softly straightening out the waves that always form when they are freshly washed. Looking down at him.
“I don’t fucking deserve you.”, he whispers.
And there it is again. That sentence. It bothered me when I read it in the messages he sent. And then when he uttered them today.
I grab his face and make him look at me. Squishing his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”, I tell him, my voice trembling. “Don’t fucking say that.”
He stills, his eyes flitting between mine, his mouth dropping open a little.
“I didn’t- I…” I’ve almost never seen him speechless, but today every time I’ve said something that he seemingly didn’t expect he just looked at me like that.
“You think it's flattering or whatever. It’s not.”, I say, exasperated. “It’s like I’m on a fucking pedastal. It doesn’t make me fucking feel good, okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. I don’t need anymore “sorry”s from him. “You already thought that before you broke up with me, didn’t you?”
He hesitates for a moment before nodding. Silence between us as I only look at him, reading what’s in his eyes.
“Beating yourself up over this isn’t gonna make either of us feel better. I don’t want you to grovel like a beaten dog. I just want you to be honest with me what’s going on in this thick head of yours.” Tapping on said thick head.
“Yeah, you fucking hurt me by just dropping me off in my flat and fucking off because you thought it was the right thing for both of us. I don’t need you to think for me. I just need you to talk to me.” Damn, I’m laying into him right now, but I fear otherwise I’m not gonna get through the thickheaded stubborness.
“I didn’t mean to go over your head like I did. I was too in my own head already, so it was the only thing that made sense to me.”, he says as calmly as he manages. “I thought it was the right thing for you.”
“Because you didn’t deserve me anyways and I would be better off with someone else, right?”, I summarize. I can’t help but sound a little bitter. And I realise now that that was the thing that hurt me the most.
He nods again.
I feel the jab in my heart. Not knowing what to say to that. It's not nice to have the person you're with express the sentiment that you should be with someone else. Well, it’s pretty fucking far from nice.
He casts his eyes down, fidgeting with his wristband, not daring to look at me. And I can practically feel his self-deprecation prickling at my fingertips, the hand still lying on his chest, clearer than ever before.
“I thought I would be selfish to have you wait for me. And I realised that the opposite is true. I was a coward, I just fucking ran away.”, he sighs, and I can hear the shame in his voice.
His hand clasps over mine, squeezing my fingers.
“You did.”, I simply say.
“And it didn’t fucking solve anything.” He laughs, a barking joyless laugh. “For the first time in a long time it was worse without someone else, you know.” He pauses for a moment, finally looking up at me again. You don't need to be Sherlock to know who he's talking about.
I nod, swallowing back my emotions again, squeezing his hand back. “And it didn’t have to be like this.”
“Fuck. I know, I just- wanna kick myself every time I think about it.” An exhausted and frustrated sigh rising up from deep in his chest. “I don't know what I can say to make it all okay again. I don't know what to tell you to-”
“Just show me.”, I interrupt him before he can go down that spiral. He stills
“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear.” His hand grabs mine a bit tighter. Pulling it up to his face and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
I nod, a little smile stalking onto my face. “Okay, good.”, I say, adding a “And don't ever say you're undeserving again.”
“I won't.”
“Thank you.” I lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips, and he answers it like it holds the promise he just made.
When I pull back, I don’t get far cause he is cradling my cheek, not letting me go anywhere.
“Did anybody ever tell you that it’s hot when you get all bossy like that?”, he whispers, a small grin forming on his face.
“Yeah?”, I say, tongue in cheek. “You like getting ripped to shreds?”
“Only by you, Hexe.” which makes me laugh. “But I deserved it too.”, he says.
“You did a little bit.”, I say graciously, and we both laugh.
We just stay like this for a while, holding hands, and I can take a deep breath feeling most of the weight drop away from me that I felt walking into the living room.
He turns to the side, his cheek pressing against my belly as his arms close around me, around my waist. As close as he can get.
I’m brushing his hair out of his face, playing with it. Massaging his neck and shoulders, softly caressing.
He almost falls asleep like that, and I don't think I’ve ever seen him so peaceful. Deep calm breaths. Not a wrinkle on his forehead as I brush over it with my thumb. His eyebrows are turned up. Not even a hint of a frown on his face.
He grabs my hand, pressing sweet kisses to my fingers. “Stay with me.”, he whispers. “Please.”
“You sure?”, I ask.
He nods, not letting go of me. “I just want my bed and you in it, like I dreamed about those last few weeks. So… please?”
And it finally sinks in that the break was just as painful for him as it had been for me. Because I dreamed of the same thing. “Okay.”
He doesn't need anything else, just gets up off the couch, picking me up as well.
I can't help the giggle rising up my throat when my legs close around his hips and my lips find his neck, kissing the sensitive spots, the ones that always make him shiver. My fingertips are digging into his shoulders. The soft lingering touches I know will get him riled up.
He hums. “Glad to see that your ass is still as bratty as before.”, he grumbles, but he can't hide the grin as he playfully places the tiniest spank on said butt.
“Never.”, I tell him before he kicks open the bed room and lies me down on the bed.
We both scramble to get rid of our clothes, pulling them off quickly. He crawls over me, his dick nudging against my pussy while he settles between my thighs and his lips land on mine. His long hair falls over me like a veil, the tips tickling my naked skin.
His hand drops down, his fingers rubbing over my clit as he pushes into me. Carefully enough. And I sigh taking him in.
His mouth is coasting over my neck, making me shiver as he kisses, nibbles and bites. Leaving marks where anyone can see. Licking the sensitive skin, his tongue drawing wet tracks over it. His heavy breath hitting the shell of my ear as he pulls my head back and sucks on the sensitive spot right beneath it.
My fingers are digging into his shoulders and back, his muscles, leaving my own marks with my nails. Dropping down further until I grab his asscheeks, pulling him into me.
He chuckles, pushing deeper, his thrusts picking up pace. I arch my back to meet his movements, my chest against his, the sensations making me throw my head back.
His hand catches my chin, and he’s telling me: “Look at me, Liebes, please just look at me.”
My eyes meet his, a satisfied deep hum rising up his throat. And I never felt more at the center of anybody's attention than in that moment.
He turns, and suddenly I’m on top, riding him, my hands placed on his hairy chest. Slowly sliding up and down his length. One of his arms around my waist, the other on my ass guides me. I almost can't handle it, the way he fills me up in this position, his tip nudging against my cervix. But fuck. I have missed this.
Not just the sex. The closeness. The familiarity. Him.
König looks up at me, the same look on his face that I have seen a few times today, the one that I still can’t quite place what it means. But I love when he looks at me like that. If the warm fuzzy feeling in my chest is any indication.
We spend the rest of the day in bed, talking, fucking, listening to music, sometimes almost dozing off. Until it’s late, almost a bit too late.
My head is resting against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady, his legs entangled with mine. His burly tattooed arms embracing me, pulling me against him. His cheek resting atop my forehead with the way I’m nuzzled into the crook of his neck, so his hair is tickling me when he moves a bit.
His body all around me, with nowhere else to go.
I didn’t like sleeping like this ever before I got to know him. But I really don’t mind anymore. I really don’t.
When I open my eyes the next morning, I need a moment to catch up where I am. König’s bedroom. In his bed, the soft sheets against my naked skin. I stretch a little and turn to the side, expecting to find him still fast asleep. But I’m greeted with a smile on his face, his eyes on me. Wide awake already.
“Good morning, Liebes.”, he says softly, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, and I have to swallow to not instantly burst into tears.
“Hi.”, I answer, trying a little wobbly smile.
His hand shoots out and he caresses over my cheek. A simple gesture, one he did so many times before, but right now it has me crying again.
“Oh Liebes.”, he coos as he sees the tear rolling down my face.
“I swear, I don't wanna cry! I must be getting my period or something.”, I grumble while he presses kisses to my cheeks, softly kissing away the tears.
“I’m gonna make you laugh and come twice as much for every time you cried.”, he says, and the twinkle in his eyes tells me that he is joking, yet at the same time seeming earnest.
I break out in laughter. “That would be a lot of jokes and a lot of orgasms.”, I gasp out, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.
He leans down and gives me a kiss. “That’s okay. Cause I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls back a bit.
“Don't make any promises you can't keep.”, I say.
“I wouldn’t.”, he says, his voice serious and his gaze soft. “I promise.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Now let me start with it. I already got a laugh out of you.”
“You insatiable man. Let me go get my teeth brushed first or-”
“No time!”, he exclaims, pulling away the blanket, to position himself between my legs.
I burst into laughter again, the sounds turning into moans when he pulls away my panties and puts his mouth on me.
“Another laugh… that means I need to keep up with the orgasms.”, he quips, mischief lighting up his eyes as his tongue dips into me.
I sigh, snuggling myself back into the comfy sheets, grinding my hips against his face. Meticulously he eats me out, getting all sloppy with it.
His hands are grabbing the swells of my ass, my legs over his shoulders, until he is buried between my thighs. They are littered with all the marks he left there. Faint bites and hickeys. And he’s leaving even more. Oh god, I missed them.
He spits once before his fingers push into me, soft squelching when he fills me up. I’m still a little sleepy, yawning once while I stretch. Meeting his movements and touches.
“Feels so good.”, I tell him, and a little smile forming on his lips as I look down at him.
“Yeah?”, he quips, his thumb rubbing over my clit while he fingerfucks me, slow and deliberately.
I barely can hold the eye contact, almost a little shy, although we did this what feels like a million times. “Yeah.”
He slips his fingers out of me, taking over with his mouth again. I feel the wetness on his fingers as he grabs my thigh again, his fingertips pressing into the plush.
In the time apart nothing had changed about this. It still feels like he has memorized every little part of me, which buttons to push to make me cry out.
His own moans and grunts give away just how much he enjoys this, and I don’t think I will ever get enough of him. Seeing how his hips restlessly move, almost fucking into the mattress, while his tongue dips into me, fucking into me, over and over again, it does something to me as well.
When he nips at my clit, I jolt, my hips lifting off the mattress, but he doesn’t let me go anywhere. Repeating the same move and I come on his face. My back arching, my fingers grabbing at the sheets, curses dropping from my lips.
With a deep breath I look at him again, the big man still very comfortable between my legs, his chin and lips glistening with moisture before he wipes it away.
“And that’s the first one.”, he says with a little grin, and I can’t help the little laugh.
I sit up and grab him. “Yeah, but it’s your turn now.”, I tell him as I pull him up to me, needing him closer.
A wry smile adorns his face. “I’m sorry, Liebes, I already...”
“You… what?”, I ask a little dumbfounded. Looking down while he sits back on his knees, his tummy all sticky, coated in his come. The sheets beneath him soiled, like he humped himself to completion spilling all over them, while eating me out. My jaw drops. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
This man. The lop-sided smirk, making him look younger than he is. The long hair all messy. Not ashamed in the slightest that he came like that, just eating me out.
“Just give me a few minutes, okay?” He grins down at me as he crawls over me. “And maybe a shower.”
“But I need to get to work!”, I tell him.
“Who said, you'll ever leave this house again?”
“König!”
“I’m keeping you.”, he says, like a definite statement, while he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.
“Brute.”, I say poutily while I can't hold back my giggles.
He just laughs, grabbing my ass as he carries me to the bathroom. “Gonna fuck you in the shower, two birds with one stone. Still need to make you come one more time.”, he lays out his plan.
And I could never say no to that, could I?
We manage to be on time though, even drinking a coffee in the kitchen together, and then he drives me to work.
He also picks me up again, not ready to spend any possible moment apart.
The stupidest biggest grin stalks onto my face when I head out of the office and see his car already parked, faint drum and bass sounds penetrating through. I run up to it and open the door, recognizing the song as Shadow of Intent’s ‘Oudenophobia’, one of the songs I showed him some time ago.
I get into the passenger seat, his hands already grabbing me before I’m properly sitting. Pressing his lips to mine in a kiss. The simple greeting turning into something else with the way he kisses me. Like he doesn’t want to let go.
“Hi.”, I finally manage to say, a little out of breath.
“Sorry, missed you all day.”, he whispers apologetically, backing off a bit, just looking at me.
“No, come back here.”, I say, my hand grabbing his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and I pull him down to me again for another kiss.
When he pulls back now, he’s grinning down at me. And I don’t need to tell him that I missed him too. He knows.
König straightens up in his seat, shifts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. (The only thing he ever pulls out of, really)
“What’s the plan for today, Prinzesserl?”, he asks me then.
“Oh oh, there is this new Asian fusion place that opened up a few weeks ago.”, I say. “I haven’t been yet.”
He pulls up his eyebrows. “Asian fusion?”
“Yes.”, I say. “They have all kinds of stuff from all over.”
“Spring rolls too?”
“I bet.” I grin up at him.
“Then let’s go.”, he says, the expression on his face mirroring mine.
I sit back, crossing my legs and snuggling into my seat. His hand lands on my thigh and mine clasps over it.
It’s like he never left. Well almost, at least.
And I know that not everything’s forgotten. It doesn’t work like that. My heart is content, but my mind is still catching up. Sometimes thinking about what he said when he left. The promises he made when he came back. Working out how this relationship between us will be from now on. Working with him on that, for both our sakes.
Because despite what happened and my efforts while he was gone... I still do love him.
And we both deserve it.
the whole story in the Masterlist
i'm sorry, i'm so in love with this man that isn't real :') (well, he is, in my mind)
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