—

The wedding was intimate, almost private, just the way you two had wanted it.

The first night of your honeymoon, you’d both been too exhausted to do anything more than make out a little and pass out.

On the second night, your new husband takes you out for dinner and drinks at the absolute fanciest restaurant in the area. He’s done that before back in L.A. or when you’d come with him on tour and there was some Michelin-starred spot in that city that he really wanted to try, but really, Tucker is just as happy with little dive bars, greasy diner food, or the mediocre room service back at your all-inclusive resort. This is because he’s still riding high from the wedding and he wants to show off—and you’ve always enjoyed the lengths he’s willing to go to just to impress you. He insists on the finest wine on the menu (snob) even though it adds hundreds to the already big bill. He doesn’t even look at the check before paying, though that’s mostly performative. You go along with it because he enjoys doing it so much, and an extravagant honeymoon is within the budget after opting to just have a small wedding in Maine.

You’re both slightly tipsy by the time you get back to your room, which despite the amazing location right on the beach, is probably the least luxurious part of the whole trip. The jacuzzi jets in the tub don’t work and the ceiling, unsettlingly, is covered in mirrors. But like, it was literally right on the beach.

Tucker is always good in bed, but tonight, he pulls out all the stops.

He spends almost half an hour with his face between your legs, only letting up once you ask him to. You know that he could’ve and would’ve kept going indefinitely. He grins as he crawls over you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get around to this earlier,” he murmurs against your neck. “That was no way to treat my wife.”

You’re already delirious from his efforts, incapable of doing much more than whining and pulling him closer. He pushes into you carefully, rocking against you slowly. You let him kiss your jawline, your collarbone, your neck, stealing glances at his back muscles in the reflection above. The way they move under his skin with each roll of his hips, the way they’re tense as he holds himself up, the few tattoos on it compared to the rest of his torso.

You run your nails down his back, watching the marks appear. Your acrylics are always slightly sharp, and Tucker loves it, groans loudly against your neck every time you run them down his spine or dig in just enough to hurt a little.

“That’s so good, baby, fuck,” he mutters.

You hum. “Yeah?”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Yeah.”

His hand slips beneath the covers, his thumb rubbing precise circles around your clit. You can’t help but moan, burying your face in his neck to muffle the noise. He keeps moving in a steady rhythm until you’re incoherent underneath him.

“Close?” he asks.

You nod quickly, unable to respond other than a soft whine.

“For me, baby, come on,” he says, and that’s enough. You force your eyes open, looking up at the ceiling so you can see how his back tenses when he finishes just a moment later.

He collapses on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and you just lie there for a while as he wraps one arm possessively around your waist, pushes the hair off your forehead, and kisses you in every place he can reach. His breathing is a little heavier than usual, but you’ve never seen him so happy.

***

The next afternoon, you’re enjoying the beach with an aperol spritz in hand, a giant pair of sunnies, and your current read laying face down on the giant towel as you lie on your stomach. Tucker is rubbing a fresh layer of sunscreen into your back, taking his sweet time with it. It’s basically a massage at this point, and you are not complaining about it.

Your phone is on silent, so you miss several calls from your publicist until you get back to the shitty little funhouse motel (which as of last night… it’s won you over). You scroll through the notifications until you find her text, informing you that candid shots of you two have been leaked online.

deuxmoi Role Model and Y/N spotted in Florida

The photos are taken from a distance—a little grainy from the zoom, but not so low-res that you can’t clearly make out that Tucker’s back is covered in pink scratch marks.

And everyone else notices too.

stonesylove I have nothing appropriate to say

slipfastdiva7 holy shit

y/nssweetheart oh they’ve been busy busy

tuckshoney OH MY GOD

saintlaurentwelchs showing this to everyone who still thinks theyre just pr

getcarriedaway the way they’re still red…

Tucker finds it funny. You don’t.

“This is so embarrassing!” you exclaim, muffled by the pillow. “What if our families see that? I can never show my face in public again.”