#timo meier

That evening, after he'd finally made it home from a long road trip, he barely had time to set his duffel bag down before you wrapped your arms around his waist. You looked him up and down dramatically before grinning.

“Hey, babe,” you said. “How was the trip?”

Timo leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before dropping his bag. “Long,” he groaned. “But it's always worth it to come home to you.”

You laughed, a light, melodic sound that never failed to make Timo smile. “Flatterer,” you teased, but your eyes sparkled with warmth. You reached out, your fingers trailing along his jaw, rough with a day's worth of stubble. “I missed you,” you admitted softly.

Timo covered your hand with his, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he murmured. He could feel the tension of the past few days beginning to ebb away, replaced by a familiar, comforting warmth. Home, he thought, was wyoure you were.

You pulled your hand away, a playful glint in your eye. “You know,” you said, your voice taking on a sing-song quality, “I was thinking while you were gone. We’ve got all this time to make up for, and I’ve got just the thing to help us catch up.”

Timo raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice low. “And what might that be?”

You grinned as you stepped away from him, your eyes never leaving his. “Well,” you began, your voice dropping to a whisper, “I was thinking we could try out my new toy.”

Timo's smirk grew wider, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Toy, huh?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “What kind of toy?”

You laughed, a sound that was part excitement and part nervousness. “Well, you wanna try out my new fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Timo chuckled, leaning in closer to you. “Fuzzy pink handcuffs, huh?” he said before letting out a chuckle. “You know, for a second there I thought you were serious.”

“I am sorry, baby. I’ve been wanting to say that for so long!” you exclaimed. “But I did win a pair in an arcade once. We’d have to look around, but they must be somewhere."

“It’s fine, Schatzi. I am more of a traditionalist anyways.”

Your breath hitched, you were so scared that the stupid joke ruined the mood, but Timo seemed unbothered by it. “Really?” you asked.

Timo nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Really,” he confirmed, his voice a low promise.

You bit your lip, your eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Okay then,” you said, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “Come with me.”

Timo took your hand, allowing you to lead him down the hallway to your bedroom. As you stepped inside, he could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what was to come. He turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours, and the world outside their room faded away.

You stepped closer to him, your hands reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, his neck, and his shoulders. “I want you, Timo,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “All of you.”

Timo's breath caught in his throat, his body responding to your words, to your touch. He reached up, his hands covering yours, and guided them down to the hem of his shirt. Together, you pulled it off, tossing it aside without a care. Your hands continued their exploration, your fingers now tracing the lines of his muscles.

Timo stood still, allowing you to explore, to touch, to claim. He could feel his body responding to you, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in rapid bursts. He wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Your hands reached the waistband of his jeans, your fingers tracing the line of his hipbone, your touch was light and teasing. Timo’s breath hitched, his body tensing in anticipation. He reached out, his hands finding yours as he pulled you closer to him.

“Wanna try out some freaky positions?” you whispered.

Timo's heart skipped a beat, his body responding to your words and to your touch. He reached down, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, and pulled it off in one swift motion. You gasped, your eyes widening in surprise, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you stepped closer to him, your body pressing against his.

Timo's hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with ease. He slipped it off your shoulders, tossing it aside without a care. Your hands found the waistband of his jeans, your fingers tracing the line of his hipbone, your touch light, teasing. Timo's breath hitched, his body tensing in anticipation. He nodded, his voice lost to him. You smiled, a slow, sultry smile that promised pleasure beyond his wildest dreams.

Timo reached out, unbuttoning your jeans and slowly sliding them down. You shivered at his touch, your body responding to him, your skin prickling with goosebumps. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the desire burning in their depths.

“Timo,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Please.”

He smiled, a smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “We've got all night.”

You bit your lip, your body aching with anticipation. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your body responding to his touch, to his words. Timo's hands continued their exploration, his fingers tracing the line of your thigh, your hip, and your waist. He reached the hem of your panties, his fingers tracing the edge, teasing you. You gasped, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Please,” you begged, your voice a low whimper. “I need you.”

Timo's eyes darkened, his body responding to your words. He reached down, his hands finding the edge of your panties, and pulled them off in one swift motion. You gasped, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Lie down,” Timo commanded, his voice a low growl. You obeyed, your body melting onto the bed, your eyes never leaving his. He stood above you, his eyes roaming over your body, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You blushed at his words, your body responding to his touch, to his words. You reached out, your hands finding his hips, pulling him closer to you.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice a low purr. “I want to see you.”

Timo's breath hitched, his body responding to your words. He reached down, his hands finding the waistband of his jeans, and pulled them off, along with his boxers. Your eyes widened, your body responding to the sight of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice a low plea. Timo obeyed, his body melting onto the bed beside you. You reached out, your hands finding his chest, his abdomen, and his hips. You could feel the heat building inside you, your body aching for release. Timo reached down, his hands finding your thighs, pushing them apart. You gasped, your body tensing in anticipation. He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the desire burning in their depths.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You nodded, your body aching for him. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I'm ready.”

Timo smiled as be reached down, his fingers finding your centre, teasing you. You gasped, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Timo,” you groaned, your voice a low plea. “Please.”

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the desire burning in their depths. “Say it,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Say what you want.”

You bit your lip, your body aching for release. “I want you, Timo,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “All of you.”

Timo's breath hitched, his body responding to your words. He reached down, his hands finding your hips, and positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Whole package, babe,” you whispered, your voice a low purr. “I like the way you fit.”

Timo's heart skipped a beat, his body responding to your words. He pushed inside you, slowly, gently, allowing your body to adjust to his. You gasped, your body tensing around him, your eyes meeting his.

“Timo,” you groaned, your voice a low plea. “More.”

He obliged, his body moving in a slow, steady rhythm, building the heat between them. Your body responded to his, your hips moving in time with his, your breath coming in rapid bursts.

“Faster,” you begged, your voice a low whimper. Timo obliged, his body moving faster, harder, pushing you closer to the edge. Your body tensed, your breath coming in short gasps, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Timo,” you groaned, your voice a low plea. “I'm close.”

He looked down at your, his eyes meeting yours, and you could see the desire burning in their depths. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Come for me now.”

And you did. Your body tensed, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Timo's body continued to move, pushing you higher, drawing out your release.

When the last wave finally subsided, Your body went limp, your eyes fluttering open to find Timo looking down at you, a soft smile on his face. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, your cheek, and your neck.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Thank you for letting me love you like that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. “Thank you for loving me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

You expected him to want to soak in the moment, to celebrate, and maybe call your families first. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his jeans, unlocked his phone, and opened the Notes app with a look of complete concentration. You watched him type for several seconds before leaning over to peek at the screen. At the top was a brand-new note titled Wedding Ideas. Underneath it, he'd already written Venue. Guest list. Band? Swiss desserts? You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you.

“Timo,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. “We got engaged forty-five minutes ago.”

He looked at you as though that only strengthened his point. “Exactly,” he replied. “We should write things down before we forget.”

You laughed even harder, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around him. “I can't believe I'm marrying someone who starts planning before we've even called our parents.”

He kissed the top of your head and smiled. “I just don't want to miss anything.”

Everyone assumed the wedding planning would mostly fall on you. They all made the same jokes whenever it came up. Timo won't care about flowers. He's going to show up in a tux, and that's it. You know hockey players. But they couldn't have been more wrong. Even with one of the busiest schedules imaginable, he somehow made sure he was involved in every single decision. If he was on a road trip with New Jersey, he'd FaceTime you from his hotel room after games, still wearing sweatpants with damp hair from the shower while discussing invitation fonts. If he had a long flight after an away game, he'd spend it looking through venue brochures you'd emailed him instead of watching movies with his teammates.

There were mornings where he'd leave for practice before sunrise, train for hours, attend meetings, answer media questions, work out again, and still come home asking, “Did the florist send those new arrangements?” He never made you feel like wedding planning was your responsibility alone. If anything, it became something the two of you looked forward to doing together.

One afternoon, after he'd returned from a week-long road trip, you expected him to be exhausted. He'd played four games in six nights, crossed multiple time zones, and barely slept. You had dinner waiting for him, fully intending to tell him the wedding conversations could wait until the weekend. Instead, he walked through the front door carrying his suitcase in one hand and a folder tucked under his arm. Before he'd even taken his shoes off, he was pulling papers onto the kitchen island.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I've been thinking.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You've been thinking?”

“About seating arrangements.”

“Timo...”

He opened the folder proudly. “I made three different layouts.”

You blinked. “Three?”

“Well...” He scratched the back of his neck. “Actually four. But one was terrible.”

You started laughing before you could stop yourself. “You made seating charts on the team plane?”

“There wasn't Wi-Fi for half the flight.”

“So your solution was organizing our wedding guests?”

“It was productive.” You walked around the island until you stood directly in front of him, reaching up to cup his face.

“You're ridiculous.”

“In a good way?”

“The best way.”

His teammates absolutely loved making fun of him for it. Every time he walked into the locker room with wedding magazines sticking out of his backpack or answered your FaceTime calls during lunch breaks to discuss centrepiece ideas, someone inevitably had something to say. “You become a florist overnight?” one teammate laughed after spotting photos of white roses on his phone.

Another teased him for spending fifteen minutes comparing different shades of linen napkins. “Buddy, they're all white.”

Timo didn't even look embarrassed anymore. At first he'd rolled his eyes and ignored them, but eventually he'd just shrug with a smile.

“She cares about it,” he'd answer simply. “So I care about it.” That response usually ended the conversation because there wasn't much else anyone could say. He wasn't pretending to enjoy it either. Somewhere along the way, he genuinely had started caring. He knew the difference between ivory and champagne tablecloths. He had opinions about lighting. He somehow developed strong feelings about string quartets versus acoustic guitarists during cocktail hour. You found it endlessly amusing.

The venue became your biggest challenge. You toured elegant hotels overlooking the water, rustic barns tucked into vineyards, luxurious estates, modern art galleries, and gardens filled with blooming flowers. Every place seemed to be missing something. One felt too formal. Another felt too small. A third simply didn't feel like the two of you.

Weeks passed before your wedding planner suggested one final venue. It was a historic vineyard nestled among rolling hills, with old stone buildings covered in ivy and rows of grapevines stretching toward the horizon. The ceremony space overlooked the valley, and tiny string lights hung between ancient oak trees where the reception would take place after sunset. The second you stepped onto the property, you reached for Timo's hand without even realizing it. Neither of you spoke as you walked through the grounds. You simply looked around, imagining your families gathered there, imagining your first dance beneath the lights, imagining saying your vows surrounded by everyone you loved. When you finally stopped, you turned toward him at the same moment he turned toward you.

“This one?” you whispered. His smile was immediate and completely certain.

“This one,” he agreed softly. “It feels like us.”

As the months passed, wedding planning slowly became woven into your everyday life. You'd be making breakfast while debating whether handwritten place cards looked more personal. You'd spend lazy Sunday mornings curled up on the couch tasting cake samples while watching old movies. Some evenings you'd barely talk about anything except flowers, music, menus, and timelines. Other nights you'd forget about the wedding completely until Timo suddenly remembered something at eleven o'clock.

“Wait,” he'd say from bed. “Do we want candles on every table or just the head table?”

You'd laugh into your pillow. “Can this wait until tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

A pause. “But since we're awake...” You'd groan dramatically while reaching for your phone to look at inspiration photos together. Those little moments became some of your favourites because they weren't really about the wedding. They were about building a life together, learning how the other person made decisions, compromising when your opinions differed, and celebrating when they matched perfectly.

Despite how organized he'd been throughout the planning process, something shifted the night before the wedding. You noticed it almost immediately during the rehearsal dinner. Timo smiled for photos, hugged family members, laughed with friends, and gave a heartfelt speech thanking everyone for traveling so far to celebrate with you. To everyone else, he looked perfectly calm. But you'd been with him long enough to recognize the subtle signs. He kept adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. He bounced one leg beneath the dinner table. Every so often, his eyes found yours from across the room as though he needed reassurance that you were still there.

Later that evening, after everyone had gone back to their hotels, the two of you stood outside beneath the stars, reluctant to say goodbye until the ceremony. According to tradition, you weren't supposed to see each other again until you walked down the aisle. Timo held both of your hands, gently rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Are you nervous?” you asked quietly.

He hesitated before nodding. “A little.”

You smiled. “About getting married?”

He shook his head immediately. “Never about that.”

“Then what?” He looked down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, his own already suspiciously glassy.

“I just can't believe tomorrow actually gets here.” His voice was almost a whisper. “I've imagined calling you my wife for so long... and now it's real.”

The morning of the wedding was surprisingly peaceful for you. Surrounded by your bridesmaids, your mother, soft music, and the familiar chaos of hair and makeup artists moving around the bridal suite, you found yourself feeling excited more than anything else.

Every now and then someone would ask if you were nervous, and each time your answer stayed the same. “Not really.”

You trusted Timo with your whole heart. Marrying him wasn't the scary part. Waiting to see him was. Meanwhile, across the property, Timo was experiencing the exact opposite. His groomsmen had never seen him so unsettled. This was a man who had played in packed NHL arenas with millions watching on television, who thrived under pressure every single night. Yet somehow tying a tie had become impossible because his hands refused to stop shaking.

“You okay?” his best man asked for the fifth time that morning. Timo let out a breathless laugh.

“I've played playoff hockey.”

“Yeah.”

“This is worse,” Timo confessed.

“Why?”

Timo stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment before answering. “Because hockey games end. This...” He smiled to himself, his expression softening. “...this is forever.”

As the guests took their seats and music floated through the warm afternoon air, Timo stood at the altar trying to steady his breathing. He smiled politely at arriving family members, hugged your father before he took his place, and nodded whenever someone whispered congratulations. But everything around him felt strangely distant. His heart was beating so loudly he was convinced everyone could hear it.

Then the music changed. Every guest stood. Timo instinctively looked toward the end of the aisle and completely forgot how to breathe. You appeared between the rows of chairs, your dress catching the sunlight as you slowly began walking toward him. For one impossibly long moment, the world disappeared. He couldn't hear the string quartet anymore. He couldn't see the guests. He didn't notice the flowers or the decorations that the two of you had spent months carefully choosing together. All he saw was you. Tears filled his eyes before you'd even reached the halfway point, and he laughed softly at himself because he'd promised everyone he wouldn't cry. The promise lasted less than five seconds. By the time you finally stood in front of him, tears were already sliding down his cheeks. You smiled so warmly that your own eyes filled instantly.

“Hi,” you whispered. He shook his head in complete disbelief.

“You're... God, you're beautiful.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. “I can't believe you're here.”

You squeezed his trembling hands. “I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”

When it came time to read his vows, he unfolded the neatly folded piece of paper he'd carried in his jacket pocket all morning. He looked down at the words he'd rewritten dozens of times over the past several weeks before slowly lifting his eyes to meet yours again.

“I thought planning our wedding meant choosing flowers and tasting cake,” he began, smiling through tears. “But somewhere between venue tours, seating charts, and late-night conversations about things that probably didn't matter to anyone else, I realized we weren't just planning one day. We were practicing for the rest of our lives. Every decision we made, every compromise, every laugh... it reminded me how lucky I am that I get to do life with you.”

His voice faltered as emotion caught in his throat. “People keep asking if I'm nervous today.” He laughed quietly, wiping beneath one eye. “I am. Not because I'm scared to marry you... but because I still can't understand how someone as incredible as you chose me.” By then there wasn't a dry eye anywhere near the altar.

“You are my best friend, my safest place, and the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. No matter how many games I play, how many goals I score, or where hockey takes us, coming home to you will always be the best part of my life. I promise to keep choosing you every single day, for as long as we're both here.”

When the officiant finally pronounced you husband and wife, the applause from your family and friends almost drowned out the sound of Timo laughing against your lips as he kissed you. Months of planning, countless flights, endless decisions, and every ounce of nervous anticipation disappeared the moment he wrapped his arms around you. Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, he smiled with the same expression he'd worn the day he'd proposed, one of complete wonder.

“Hi, wife,” he whispered, as though trying the words out for the first time.

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “Hi, husband.”

He closed his eyes for a brief second, taking it all in before laughing softly to himself. “You know,” he murmured, “every single seating chart was worth it.”

You laughed through happy tears, shaking your head as everyone around you cheered. “Only you would think about seating charts right now.”

“Wake me up when we land,” he mumbled, already pulling his hoodie over his eyes.

You laughed and squeezed his hand. “You're really romantic, you know that?”

He lifted the hoodie just enough to grin at you. “Baby, I already booked Mallorca. I don't have to impress you anymore.”

By the time you landed, though, the exhaustion from the tournament seemed to melt off him. It wasn't just because he was finally on vacation. Switzerland had made a deep run, and although they hadn't gotten the ending everyone dreamed of, Timo had played some incredible hockey and carried himself with the same pride he always did. Now, with the season and Worlds behind him, all he wanted was to spend uninterrupted time with you. And that was exactly what Mallorca gave him.

The first morning, sunlight poured into your hotel room through the curtains. You opened your eyes and found Timo still asleep beside you, with one arm draped over your waist protectively. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and his face looked softer than it usually did. You knew it was because there was no pressure, no schedule, just peace.

You smiled and gently traced your fingers along his arm. His eyes opened immediately. “Morning,” he whispered sleepily.

“Morning.”

He smiled and pulled you closer without a second thought. “No alarms,” he murmured. “No meetings. No hockey.”

“No hockey?”

“Absolutely no hockey.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Ten minutes later, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. You glanced over and saw a message from one of his teammates.

You raised an eyebrow. “No hockey, huh?”

“Okay, maybe a little hockey.” Timo groaned dramatically and buried his face in your shoulder.

“You lasted ten minutes.”

“Eight minutes, actually. I checked before I fell asleep.” You laughed, and he kissed your neck. “Don't judge me. It's a disease.”

Over the next several days, the two of you settled into a rhythm that felt almost too perfect. Breakfast on the terrace every morning, afternoons spent swimming in the crystal-clear water, and evenings wandering through Palma hand in hand. Timo insisted on trying every ice cream flavour available, even when it meant ordering three different cones.

“This one tastes weird,” he announced after trying pistachio.

“You ordered it.”

“I know. You want it?”

“You took one bite.”

“Sharing is caring.”

One evening, after spending the day exploring hidden beaches and tiny villages, you returned to the hotel exhausted. You'd showered and changed into comfortable clothes while Timo lay sprawled across the bed watching some random documentary, he looked like he could fall asleep any second. Tempted as you were to climb into the bed with him, you decided to go out on the balcony.

The warm Mediterranean sun had barely started to dip below the horizon when you stepped out, the salty breeze lifting your hair as waves rolled lazily onto the beach below. The entire island seemed to glow in shades of gold and orange, and sometime later behind you, the sliding door opened quietly.

“Hey,” Timo said softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “You disappeared.”

You turned and smiled when you saw him. He was barefoot, wearing a loose white shirt that was half unbuttoned and a pair of navy swimming shorts, his dark hair still messy from your afternoon in the pool. In one hand, he held two glasses of sangria, and in the other, a plate with strawberries he had somehow convinced the hotel staff to bring up.

“I just wanted to watch the sunset,” you replied.

Timo walked over and handed you one of the glasses before wrapping an arm around your waist. “Good thing I know exactly where to find you.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The past few days had been perfect. No hockey. No interviews. No flights. Just the two of you exploring Mallorca together. Wandering through the streets of Palma hand in hand, swimming in hidden coves, trying every dessert you could find, and laughing so hard during your attempt at paddleboarding that both of you had fallen into the sea.

“Best vacation ever?” he asked.

You grinned. “Definitely.”

He smiled proudly. “Good answer. I planned this very carefully.”

“You planned us getting lost in Palma?”

“That part was unexpected,” he said as he held his hands up in defense.

“And you accidentally ordering enough tapas for eight people?”

Timo laughed, his entire face lighting up. “Okay, that wasn't my fault. The menu was in Spanish.”

“You ate enough for three people.”

“I’m an athlete. It's called fuel.” You burst out laughing, and he joined you, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Later that evening, after dinner by the marina, the two of you decided to walk along the beach. The sand was cool beneath your feet, and the moon reflected off the water in shimmering silver. There weren't many people around anymore, just the sound of the waves and the occasional distant music from one of the beachfront restaurants.

Timo reached for your hand automatically, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You know what my favourite part about this trip is?” he asked.

“The food?”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. You think so little of me?”

You giggled. “Fine. The beaches?”

“Nope.”

“The swimming?”

“Wrong again.”

You smiled. “Then tell me.”

He stopped walking and turned toward you. His eyes softened immediately, and suddenly his teasing expression disappeared.

“This,” he said quietly. “Just this. Us.”

Your smile faded into something softer.

“Timo…”

“I mean it,” he continued, brushing your hair behind your ear. “During the season, everything is crazy. I'm always thinking about games, practice, travel... and sometimes I hate how busy life gets. But being here with you? Waking up next to you every morning, eating breakfast together, seeing you get excited over every little thing…” He smiled. “I don't know. It reminds me what matters.”

Your eyes stung slightly.

“You make me happy,” he said simply. “Really happy.”

You wrapped your arms around him immediately, and he hugged you tightly, holding you against his chest.

“You make me happy too,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead and rested his cheek against your hair. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I'm not letting you go.”

“That's a little dramatic.”

“I'm Swiss. Romance is in my DNA.”

You snorted. “Pretty sure that's not true.”

“It absolutely is.” You laughed into his chest, and he smiled at the sound.

A few days later, the two of you rented a small boat and spent the afternoon exploring the coastline. Timo had insisted he could navigate without directions.

“Trust me,” he had said confidently. Forty-five minutes later, he stared at the map on his phone. “I have absolutely no idea where we are.”

“You got us lost at sea?”

“Technically we're still near land.”

“Technically?”

But neither of you cared. You spent hours swimming in crystal-clear water, sunbathing on the deck, and taking ridiculous pictures of each other. Timo had nearly dropped his phone trying to take a selfie with you and had blamed the seagull flying overhead.

The next evening had been circled on Timo's imaginary itinerary since the day you'd arrived. He'd booked a table at one of the nicest restaurants overlooking the marina, insisting that the two of you needed “one fancy date” before heading home.

“Real clothes are required,” he'd announced that morning while stealing pieces of fruit off your plate. “No oversized shirts. No flip-flops. We're being elegant tonight.”

You'd laughed. “You own three white shirts and two pairs of shorts.”

“And somehow I still look amazing.”

“Confidence is impressive.”

“It's a gift.”

By the time evening rolled around, Timo was already dressed and waiting impatiently in the room, adjusting the sleeves of his baby blue-coloured linen shirt while checking his watch.

“Baby?” he called. “We're gonna lose our reservation.”

“One minute!”

“I'm serious.”

You smiled to yourself in the bathroom mirror, smoothing down your dress one last time before stepping out. Timo looked up and froze completely. His mouth actually fell open, which made you stop and smile nervously.

“What?” But he didn’t reply, he just stared. “Timo?”

Still nothing.

He blinked, then blinked again, and somehow managed, “Oh my God.”

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“Baby…” he whispered, looking completely overwhelmed. “No. That's not fair.”

“What?”

He shook his head slowly, taking a few steps toward you. “How do you look like that?”

You giggled. “Like what?”

“Like…” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed softly to himself. “I don't even know. You look unbelievable.”

His eyes travelled over you before meeting yours again, and he looked genuinely offended. “We have to leave?”

You laughed harder. “Yes, Timo.”

“I don't want to,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close.

“We have a reservation.”

“We can cancel.”

“No.”

“Tough crowd.” He buried his face in your neck dramatically. “Baby, you look way too pretty. This is cruel.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “You're ridiculous.”

“No, I'm serious.” He looked at you with the softest smile. “You're beautiful.” His voice had gone quiet and sincere. “So beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed immediately. “Timo…”

“I'm gonna spend this entire dinner staring at you.” He grinned.

“You already stare at me.”

“Because I have eyes.”

Eventually, you managed to drag him out of the room, though he spent the elevator ride holding your hand and occasionally shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe you were real.

Dinner itself was perfect. The marina sparkled with lights, the warm evening breeze drifted through the restaurant, and the two of you laughed over glasses of wine while sharing appetizers. Except Timo kept getting distracted. Every time you smiled, he smiled. Every time you fixed your hair, he stared. Every time you laughed, his expression softened completely. At one point, you caught him looking at you instead of his food.

“Timo.”

“What?” he said as he snapped out of the thought in his head.

“Eat,” you said and nudged his plate.

“I am.”

“No, you're staring.”

He smiled shamelessly. “I'm multitasking.”

“You're impossible.”

“And you're beautiful,” he complimented you again.

“You've said that six times.”

“I know.”

By the time the main course arrived, you could practically see his attention span disappearing. He was still listening to you, still laughing and talking, but there was something mischievous in his eyes. You finished your meal and reached for the dessert menu, only for it to disappear.

You blinked. “Timo?”

He smiled innocently. “What?”

“The menu.”

“I know.”

“I was reading that,” you said as you tried to take the menu back from his hands.

“We don't need it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We don't?”

“Nope.”

“But dessert—”

“We can have dessert at the hotel.” The wink he gave you made you laugh so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

“Timo!”

“What?” he asked with a grin.

“You're terrible.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “I'm efficient.”

“That's one word for it.”

He reached for your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Come on, Schatz. We've got a beautiful room, and I really don't feel like sharing you with half the restaurant anymore.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You are ridiculous.”

“And hopelessly in love with you.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Besides,” he said with a playful smile, “I don’t think we tested that bed well enough.”

You stared at him. “We what?”

He grinned proudly. “Baby, after seeing you tonight, I knew there was no way I was sitting through a full dinner at the restaurant.”

You couldn't stop laughing as he paid the bill, looking entirely too smug with himself. And as he wrapped an arm around your waist the second you stepped outside, pulling you close and kissing your temple, you realized that maybe the best part of Mallorca wasn't the beaches or the sunsets. It was him.

During the taxi ride back to the hotel, Timo couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Du bisch unglaublich schön,” (You are incredibly beautiful) he said as he started kissing your neck. And you knew what was happening. Timo would lose his ability to form sentences in English when he was turned on. Judging by the tent that was growing in his black dress pants, he would take you in this taxi if he could.

“Baby, wait till we get to the hotel, please. The driver is not going to be happy if you continue this,” you whispered into his ear.

“Mir isch de Fahrer grad völlig egal. Ich will eifach di jetzt,” (I don't care about the driver right now. I just want you now) he said simply as he continued kissing your neck and jaw, making his way to your lips.

In that moment, you decided to share your Swiss German progress, “Ich weiss, Liebi.” (I know, love) Well aware of what that did to Timo. “But please, control yourself.” You lean away from his touch, not wanting to give the driver a show he didn’t pay for.

“You sound so hot when you speak my language, Schatz.” And he leaned forward again, chasing your lips before finally planting his lips on yours. You tried your hardest not to moan. Finally, the driver stopped, Timo paid him, and you walked to the elevator with Timo’s hand on your ass. He was not letting go of you anymore.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he pressed you against the wall. His hand was behind your head so you wouldn’t bump into it. His lips found yours immediately.

“Don’t tease me with Swiss German, baby. You know what that does to me,” he said in between kisses. Soon the doors opened on your floor, he grabbed your hand before dragging you to your room. “You can only use it when we are alone.”

When you entered the room, Timo dragged you in front of the mirror while he stood behind you. “I want you to look at yourself. You are so beautiful, Liebi.” His hand slowly made its way from your wrist to your upper arm and to the knot in your neck. He untied the knot, and your dress immediately fell to the floor. You weren’t wearing a bra, so this action made you stand in front of the mirror in just your thong. “Verdammt, du bisch so sexy,” (Fuck, you’re so sexy) he whispered before he started kissing your shoulders, making his way to your neck, making you shiver.

His fingers trailed along your side down to your thong before slipping his hand in. “Look at yourself, you are so beautiful, and you’re all mine.” He made eye contact through the mirror, and your legs nearly gave in. He noticed and wrapped his other arm around your stomach, holding you up. “Don’t give up now, Schatz. We haven’t even started yet.”

His hand dipped deeper into your underwear, his fingers slipping between your lips, quickly finding your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder as you let out a moan. His fingers circled your clit for a while before he went down further and slipped a finger inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered. You could feel his dick getting hard against your ass. With the arm that was around your stomach, his hand went up to cup one of your boobs and started kneading it, while he used the fingers on his other hand to pump in and out of your pussy. “Du bisch so nass.” (You’re so wet)

He picked up the pace, and before you could even announce that you were about to cum, his fingers slipped out. Your head shot up and your eyes opened, making indirect eye contact through the mirror again.

“Why did you stop?” you whine, still clenching around nothing.

“Ich will di jetzt under mir haa. Ich will dir i d'Auge luege, wenn du chunsch,” (I want you underneath me, now. I want to look into your eyes when you cum) he whispered as he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Quickly he rid himself of his clothes and his underwear. He climbed on top of you and started kissing your lips, his hands on either side of you face to support himself. He kissed you with such hunger that you almost came from how desperate he was. When he broke the kiss, his lips trailed down to your neck, making his way to your breasts. Taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking and kissing it slowly.

“Baby, chum scho. Ich bruuche di,” (Baby, come on. I need you) you moaned. Then he used one of his hands to pump himself before lining his dick up with your entrance. He penetrated you with ease, his head shot up to look you in the eyes. Eye contact had always been important to him, he could read your face so easily.

“Fuck, du bisch so sexy,” he repeated. He was going slow at first, but he could feel you clenching around him, so he quickly picked up the pace. He was now pounding into you so hard that the bed was shaking. You both moaned loudly, and his lips found yours as he kept pounding. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Is all he kept saying as you only moaned. You couldn’t find any words, you were completely overwhelmed by the feeling of having him so deep inside you.

Finally, you found some words, “Fuck, T. I am so close!” you almost screamed, the action making you close your eyes.

“Mach dini Auge uf, Schatz,” (Open your eyes, darling), he said as he could feel that you were about to cum. “Lueg mi aa,” (Look at me) he demanded, grabbing your cheeks into his hand, forcing you to open your eyes. The action made you cum almost instantly. He kept on thrusting into you as he came as well. Then he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing deeply. Neither of you were in a rush to move, and he stayed inside you until he was no longer hard. However, sliding his dick out almost made him hard again.

“Best vacation ever,” he said, finally finding English words again as he flopped down beside you. That comment made you laugh.

By your final night in Mallorca, the two of you sat together on the beach wrapped in a blanket. The stars stretched endlessly above you, and your head rested in his lap while his fingers absentmindedly played with your hair.

“I don't want to leave tomorrow,” you admitted.

“Me neither.”

You looked up at him. “Can we just stay here forever?”

He smiled. “As tempting as that sounds, I think the Devils might notice I'm missing.”

“Eventually.”

“Probably after a week.”

You laughed, and he looked down at you with such tenderness that it made your chest ache.

“We'll come back,” he promised softly. “Maybe next summer. Same beach, same sunset.”

You smiled.

“Promise?”

Timo bent down and kissed you gently, smiling against your lips.