xqwrites fanfiction

When you’d talked to Taz about it, he’d been on you immediately.

“I’m still passionate about you,” he’d declared, and then he’d kissed you with such vehemence that you had to hold onto his forearms in order to not fall over.

After you’d pulled apart you’d been left a bit breathless, heart pumping, face heating.

“That was… intense,” you’d said with a breathy laugh.

Taz had just smiled down at you, face soft, eyes slightly glazed over.

“I’d really like to take that elsewhere,” he’d said - but then his phone had started ringing with a call he’d already been waiting for, and that had been the end of it.

You kind of observed the situation for a bit.

It wasn’t like you’d grown apart from each other, you very clearly hadn’t.

It was rather like you’d… developed something like a deep, basic trust in the fact that the other one would always be there, like you’d been woven into each other so thoroughly you didn’t need to check all the time if your connection was still strong enough to last.

You’d been looking forward to this evening for the whole month of planning it had taken you to make this get-together happen.

Your whole group of friends had gathered, finally checking in with each other again, laughing, sharing stories.

You felt nothing but blissfully happy.

After the bar you’d met in closed, one of your friends offered their place to crash. You couldn’t stop laughing for quite some time after your arrival - their place had been pure chaos, and there’d been nothing but lukewarm beer and bottled water to offer.

Your slightly snarky remark on how they were very clearly living their best life at the moment got you a sarcastic ‘ha ha’ from your friend as a response and bellowing laughter from Taz that shot straight to your heart first, and deep into your core second.

Your group ended up making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you sitting cross-legged on the sofa, Taz getting down onto the floor in front of you, leaning against the seat. He hummed when you softly scratched your fingernails over his neck from time to time, sometimes going up to the slightly longer hair on top of his head.

At some point one of your friends commented on how sweet the two of you were together, still dedicated to each other, soft for each other. It warmed your heart.

And it made you think of something you’d read a little while ago.

“So, I have a question for all of you,” you announced, and when everyone’s eyes were on you, you phrased it, “do you consider yourself someone who’s good at being in love, or as someone who’s good at love?”

“How’s that any different?”, someone asked.

“Well,” you said, “I just recently read something about how there is a big difference between the two of them.”

Taz first turned just his head, then his entire upper body to get a better look at you as you continued.

“Being good at being in love means being good at all the intense stuff in the beginning: the hot sex, the burning gazes, the never-ending conversations, the laughs, the fun, the anxiety you feel when you’re apart. The best sides of both people, you know, all the romantic stuff. But love starts when the excitement fades. Like, when the stress of life sets in and sex becomes a chore and you fight and cry and argue. When you show each other the worst parts of you, really. And that if you still wanted that person in your life, through all of those things, that’s when you know you’re good at love.”

It got quiet for a moment after that, each one of you thinking about those words and how it applied to them - or didn’t.

Taz caught you in an unreadable gaze. You felt yourself growing nervous about it, heart beating a bit faster, asking yourself what might be going on in his head right now.

Eventually the conversation moved on as one of your friends stated they weren’t good at either of those, telling you about the date they just recently ditched because they’d put a spoon they’d just licked back into a jar of peanut butter.

Later, when you got back into the quiet of your shared place, when you were standing at the sink, busy brushing your teeth while Taz was flossing his own, he brought the topic back up again.

“Do you think we stopped being in love with each other?”, he asked, brows slightly furrowed, meeting your gaze through the mirror.

“Wha-?”, you managed through a mouthful of toothpaste, “wha-ya meam?”

Taz obviously had no trouble understanding you - his response came immediately.

“What you said earlier,” he was sounding almost casual, “about being good at love or being in love. I feel like you’ve said that with something in mind, I guess? Like you felt like we weren’t in love anymore.”

You couldn’t help but smile about the effort it must’ve taken him to make it sound like he hadn’t chewed on that for the last few hours.

Very pointedly you finished brushing your teeth, even washed your face before you answered him - partly because you thought it cute how uncertain he’d grown, partly because you needed to sort out your mind first.

“I don’t think we’re not in love anymore,” you finally stated, leaning against the sink while drying your hands. “I’m still in love with you, if that’s what bothers you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Taz said, making sure you followed him back to the bedroom, “I meant it more like - being in love compared to love.”

“Huh,” was all you said to that.

And then you waited.

You wanted him to tell you what he thought about it before you revealed your opinion on it. He must’ve known you’d been sitting on that for a while now, considering you first brought it up literally weeks ago.

But it wasn’t until now, obviously, that Taz had given it too much thought. So you could totally justify letting him stew in it for a bit.

He stayed silent until you’d settled into bed, sheets pulled up, limbs beneath it tangled.

His face was intimidatingly close to yours, his eyes darting left to right and back again, maybe trying to decipher your thoughts.

“Maybe you were right,” he finally said, “when you said that things might’ve changed between us.”

There it was, the insight you’d been waiting for.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

“But not in a bad way, though. I mean, I do still love you. Maybe more than ever. And I love to love you.”

You felt your eyes get a bit wet at his words. He looked so soft, so sensitive, you just had to reach up to his face to swipe your thumb across his eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” you said gently, “And I do think we might be good at love. Not just at being in love.”

Taz thought about that for a moment, pulling you closer still in the process, then reached up to cup your face.

“Yeah, I could go with that,” he said against your lips, before he closed the last bit of distance and kissed you, so softly and so intensely at the same time that for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

When his lips started wandering down to your jaw and followed the line of it until they met your pulse point, the heat in your core you’d felt earlier this evening roared up again.

As if he’d felt it too, Taz pushed his knee between yours to give you some friction.

Quickly you felt as if you were scorching.

The way his hands started to move over your skin, so expertly, yet so exhilaratingly, made your breath quicken, and when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on your neck you couldn’t help your hips jolt forward.

A soft moan tumbled from your lips, followed by a significantly louder one when he actually bit into your shoulder, easing the tender spot with his tongue right after.

“Gosh, Taz,” you gasped, your nails scraping over his scalp, “I love it when you bite me.”

He pushed the covers away so he could move properly, rolling on top of you, grinding against you, breathing into your face.

“I know,” he then said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He made an attempt at biting into your chin, but you were quick to evade it and catch his lips into a searing kiss instead.

It didn’t take you long to feel like a boiling, squirming mess underneath his hands and lips. He knew exactly which buttons to push, which places to kiss, where to lick, nibble, suck.

Not long after, when you came on his fingers and mouth, you felt like your soul left your body for a second. The look on Taz’ face told you he planned on making you come again and again, until you were nothing else than a mess.

Maybe it was his revenge because you’d let him cook in his feelings.

Maybe he was just taking satisfaction in the fact that knowing you so well made him capable of that in the first place.

However, it turned out you were absolutely right with your prediction.

You stopped counting after the fourth orgasm he managed to carve out of you, and when he finally was done himself, your legs, your arms - your entire body was shaking.

Taz licked along your sweat-damp shoulder before he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I’m really glad this hasn’t changed,” he murmured, his breath fanning hot over your throat.

Still panting, you had a hard time speaking.

Instead, you let your trembling fingers run through his hair, eyes closing from the overall exhaustion. “Yeah, me too,” was all you were capable of saying, but you knew that in this moment, it was more than enough.

When he inched even closer, you quickly reached out and hooked your finger into the waistband of his briefs (aside from this he was naked, that cheeky fucker), pulled hard and then let it snap back against his skin.

Taz yelped and spun around, laughing despite the look of shock on his face.

“You’re evil!” he exclaimed before bending down and pressing an open-mouthed, very wet kiss onto your widely grinning lips.

When he tried to pull away, your hand rose up to his neck to keep him in place. You wanted to linger in this moment for just a little while longer.

There was a quick exchange of looks, a gentle stroke of your thumb on his jaw being enough of a gesture to soften his features.

The next time your lips met felt almost cautious, so delicate it made your breath stutter. With you still sitting, you knew Taz wasn’t actually comfortable bending down to you, but your thoughts got quickly erased by the soft push of his lips against yours, by the tender touch of his hands around your jaw, your neck, the back of your head.

Sometimes you forgot how nice it was just to be kissing him.

Right now, you wanted nothing more than to indulge in the exquisite way his mouth moved against yours, his soft humming when you angled your head a bit so you could deepen the kiss even more.

When you poked out your tongue to softly lick at his lower lip, Taz parted from you, a somewhat dreamy look on his face.

But instead of diving in again, he shot one last glance down to your kiss-stricken lips, before he straightened with a deep sigh.

“You have work to do,“ his voice sounded as if saying these words required some effort, “so I better get dressed and head out before we forget about that entirely.“

Pouting, you reached for him when he retreated, but he wouldn’t stop. Instead, he kept walking backwards, blowing you a kiss.

To hell with those goddamn responsibilities. All you wanted to do was to get up and follow him, continuing where you left off.

But Taz was right, you had a deadline coming up and still plenty of open tasks.

As your gaze wandered over to your laptop, your body slumped, your mood sinking along with your posture. Halfhearted, you clicked onto an icon on the screen, and just when the program started loading, there was a movement you noticed from the corner of your eyes.

You turned your face towards it just in time to get hit with something black and soft.

No, he didn’t.

He absolutely fucking didn’t.

But his almost mean giggle, together with his buttass-naked form standing in the doorway towards your shared bedroom left no room for doubt.

You got up from your seat before you knew it, throwing his briefs back at him full force. When you missed him by a mile, he threw his head back in bellowing laughter, nearly failing to prepare himself for the tackle you attempted to land against his body.

„You’re the absolute worst,“ you exclaimed, betrayed by your own amusement, already bending down to his discarded underwear with the intention of getting back at him, one way or another.

Knowing you, Taz suspected your motives, and in the following, rather short scuffle you accidentally drove your elbow into his stomach with a bit more force than you’d supposed to.

While Taz gasped for breath and you tried to assure him of how sorry you were, your phone started to buzz.

„Thank god for that call,“ Taz panted, „two more of these and you would’ve knocked me out.“

You were already on your way over to the kitchen counter to take the call. „It was an accident!“ you yelled back over your shoulder.

When you answered the phone, you turned around to see if you had to reckon with another attack.

But Taz seemed calm now, maybe content with his fate.

He bent down to pick up his underwear, winked at you, smug grin on his face when he noticed you were watching him, and then disappeared from your sight, most likely to give you the space for your call and to pick up his task of grocery shopping he’d announced earlier that day to take care of.

As you finally focused on your work again, you also felt relief that you were able to laugh with him again.

You’d been through a few tough weeks - a pretty stressful time at your job, Taz being absent due to his own, a fight with a close friend of yours - life in general had constantly drawn energy from you.

When Taz had finally come back home, he hadn’t found you in the same state he’d left you.

“Babe, I’m home!”, Taz had yelled, dropping his bag to the ground before taking his shoes off.

You’d heard him, had heard his keys jingle before he’d put the right one into the lock. It had been quiet inside the apartment, the windows had been closed.

It was just that you hadn’t been able to answer him, being cuddled up in the bed, blanket pulled up high to your chin. The mere thought of getting up in order to give him a proper greeting had exhausted you.

“Love-y? You there?”

You’d waited as Taz’ feet had carried him through the dimly lit apartment. The blinds had been nearly down, very unlikely for you, blocking the light of the early evening.

When he’d rounded the corner and had seen you lying in bed, peeking at him from between the sheets, a pitying smile had spread on his face.

“Hey Babes,” he’d all but cooed, “still not feeling better?”

“Worse,” you’d mumbled, watching him round the bed before coming to a seat at the far edge from you. “Got my period just last night, tormenting headache too. It’s awful.”

Taz had tutted, then he’d leaned over to bring his face closer to yours.

“I’ll take care of you, love.”

And that he’d done.

He’d made some tea, had cooked a simple meal from what was left in the fridge and then had watched you eat, slowly and deliberately, as if you still hadn’t been sure if you’d really wanted all of this.

He’d asked if you wanted to take something against the pain, then had brought you the exact right pill, had taken care of a refill for your almost empty water bottle.

After you’d put your cutlery down, he’d tucked you in again, had kissed your forehead before he’d made himself useful cleaning up the mess that had piled up during the last few days.

You’d firmly pushed the nagging feeling of guilt that had threatened to overwhelm you aside. It was quite rare for you to be taken out like that, but right now the exhaustion from it all had weighed down on you so badly that you hadn’t felt like you’d had any other choice than giving in, letting Taz take over.

Which you’d kind of gladly done.

Eased by his presence alone.

Later, long after the sun had set, after Taz had put on a movie you hadn’t really cared to watch, you’d slipped your hand under his shirt and up to his chest in order to feel his heartbeat under your palm.

His skin was warm, the pounding of his heart slow and steady, soothing.

Taz had leant over to you and had pressed a kiss against the top of your head.

“Thought you were asleep already,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “feeling a bit better?”

“I always do when you’re around,” you’d said, but your voice had not even slightly sounded like that.

Taz luckily hadn’t commented on it. He’d simply laid his hand on top of yours, still pressed against his warm skin, and had tucked your head under his chin.

Eventually you’d fallen asleep like that, feeling warm and loved and cared for despite it all.

It had taken some time for you to really feel better, you’d spent it quietly in the serenity of your shared place. You called in sick at work and Taz had postponed his calls or, if he couldn’t, had left the apartment for a walk around the block in order to take them.

And then, finally, on a cloudy morning a few days after his arrival, you’d silently gotten up while he was still doing his morning workout, and had gone into the bathroom to take a shower.

When he’d followed you in a few minutes later, you’d immediately wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Thank you,” you’d said, barely audible over the running shower.

“Babes,” was all he’d answered, voice heavy with dedication.

You’d stayed like that for long enough to get your fingertips all wrinkled.

It was Taz’s idea to go for a drink after your dancing class was finished. Maybe he’d planned it all along.

Either way, you ended up sitting in a somewhat quiet corner of a bar, a cool drink in hand, listening to Taz go on about his latest work trip.

It was only when he stopped mid-sentence to look at you somewhat suspicious that you realized you’d been staring at him.

“Like what you see?”, he asked, smile growing wide and smug.

“Always do.”

Taz made an uncertain noise, and you couldn’t tell if he really blushed at your words, or if it only was the dim lights that made it look like it.

“I love you, you know that?”, you then said, unbothered by the intensity your gaze must’ve carried, “still and as much as ever.”

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

So it wasn’t just the light. Good.

“And I wanted to thank you again for bearing with me,” you finally got to the point that still kind of bothered you, “I’ve been miserable, and you’ve been there.”

At that, Taz got up from his seat to squat down beside yours. He took your hand, looked you dead in the eyes and said, “Love, I’d never leave. Even if you’d be nothing but miserable. I’m in love with you, and I’ll stay.”

The sincerity with which he’d spoken pierced straight through your heart. You tried hard to fight back the tears that instantly built up, and failed.

“Oh my god”, you somehow managed, firmly wiping away whatever spilled down onto your cheeks, “please don’t make me cry in public.”

With his eyes never leaving yours he took one of your hands and pressed a firm kiss onto your knuckles, before he sat down on his chair again and took a sip of his drink.

He then shot you a wink that tore a teary laugh out of you and took up his story again, giving you the space to steady yourself.

Later that night, when he deliberately made love to you (you somehow hated calling it that, but fucking would’ve been too explicit a term for the softness and intimacy of it), you couldn’t imagine him not being part of your life ever again.

But, you thought as you felt his breath against your neck and heard his small gasps and moans, it was far more likely that you’d never ever get rid of him, even if you tried.

It was only when one of Taz‘s friends mentioned something about him not being a dinner person that you were thrown off.

“What do you mean?”, you’d asked, not fully paying attention because you were, in fact, prepping dinner at that moment.

“I mean that before,” they’d made a gesture towards you and then Taz who was lounging outside, “he didn’t really eat dinner, that’s all.”

You’d paused with what you were doing to look at them fully, brows already furrowed. “How can someone possibly survive without eating dinner?”, you’d asked incredulously. “Dinner is everything.”

But they’d just shrugged, amused nonetheless. “To some people.”

A disbelieving laugh had found its way out of your throat. “Okay, you’re not getting any tonight,” you’d then said, pointing at them with the knife in your hand.

And that had been the moment when Taz came inside, looking gorgeous, grinning widely, padding over to you barefoot. You’d paused with whatever you’d been doing in order to be able to follow him with your eyes.

“Who’s not getting any tonight?”, he’d loudly interfered, “I hope I’m still getting some, love!” His smile and wink and the following loud smack onto your butt had made you blush like a schoolgirl.

Sometimes it was hard to choose if you wanted to kiss him or if you preferred punching him, hard. Occasionally, you’d opted for both.

In a rather pathetic attempt to regain some of your composure, you’d tried to explain the situation. But Taz had cut you off by pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss onto your upper lip and what felt like half your nose.

“Oh my god,” you’d gasped, wiping his spit off of your face with your bare forearm, your other hand smacking against his stomach. “That’s disgusting.“

His grin had gotten impossibly wider, and you’d known just from looking at him that he’d been about to say something even more mortifying.

Unfortunately, you’d been proven right.

Leaning in, without bothering to properly lower his voice, Taz had spoken against the shell of your ear. “And there I was thinking you liked my mouth on you.“

In an instant, his friend had spun around, pretending to retch.

“Very charming,“ you’d mumbled, face burning red-hot, not clarifying if you’d meant your friend or your boyfriend - or both of them.

After pecking a kiss onto your brick-red cheek, Taz had made for the fridge and you’d continued prepping food.

But after you’d (kind of) stomached the teasing, your mind inevitably had gone back to that remark his friend had made about Taz not being a dinner person.

Weird.

When you had started seeing each other, the both of you had done nothing but eat dinner together, at least as far as you could remember.

Sometimes you’d gone out to grab something, other times Taz had cooked, or you’d been prepping it together.

But that had mostly, almost always been - dinner.

But if his friend had been telling the truth (and why wouldn’t they), Taz had gone severely out of his way in order to, what, spend time with you?

Not that unlikely, considering everything you’d worked through up to that point, but definitely worth investigating.

On that evening you hadn’t gotten the chance of asking Taz about it, and after that, it slipped your mind.

The next time you thought about it was a few days later, when he mentioned that he needed to adjust his nutrition in order to maintain his physique.

You’d been busy checking mails on your phone, but after his statement you looked at him for a moment, taking in his side profile while he was focused on the screen of his laptop. By your standards his way of eating already was pretty strict, but on the other hand you had no pressure of looking a certain way, let alone your job depending on it.

You admired his dedication and hard work, had even profited from it in a way by being motivated to put more effort into your fitness and health as well.

But there were times, especially when he was preparing for filming, where his exertion moved into dimensions that you weren’t capable or even willing to reach as well.

Obviously, there were two possibilities of tackling this topic.

One of them, the decent and more grown-up way, would’ve led to a practical conversation about the how‘s and why‘s.

So, naturally, you opted for the other one, seizing the opportunity of exploring this whole dinner thing his friend had brought to your attention.

So you put your phone down, turned to him and asked rather sheepishly, “You already got an idea on what to change? Like, just eating less or… starting to skip dinner again?”

Taz looked up from what he was doing to shoot you a puzzled look. “What?”

When you got up from your spot at his side and stepped up next to him, his arm wrapped around your waist like second nature.

His fingertips slid under the hem of your shirt and this simple touch alone made it hard for you to stay focused on the task at hand. You had to pause for a moment to just look at him, taking in his soft features, the affection and the curiosity visible on his face.

Eventually, you spread your lips into a playful smile.

“I meant like back when we weren’t together yet. I’ve just recently learned that you didn’t use to eat dinner back then,” you hung on and leaned in to nudge him with your nose, “but now you somehow do.”

“Ah, that,” he said, now smiling too.

“You mind telling me?”

He made an uncertain noise, which led to you making an attempt of sliding onto his lap in order to put a bit more pressure into what seemed to turn into an interrogation.

He half helped you with it but once one of your legs was lying across his, he held you in place with a firm grip at your thigh. His other hand, the one that had been caressing the delicate skin on your lower back, slipped down over your butt.

Obviously unwilling to let you have the upper hand, he let his fingers slide towards your core whilst his smile got more smug with every centimeter his fingertips wandered forward.

“As if you needed any more knowledge of how much you’ve charmed me,” his voice was low and teasing, same as his fingers which were wandering over your clothed core, “as if you weren’t already -,” he finally found your clit that was already pulsing with need, and pressed his fingertips down on it hard, “- bratty enough without knowing that too.”

He watched you squirm as he continued to coax some kind of reply out of you, bodily or verbal. It was impossible for you to think straight. Not when he was looking at you, let alone touching you like that.

“I really didn’t think of - ah! - turning this into -,” you tried to make a comeback but failed when his pressing changed into an urgent rubbing.

You already felt like you were on fire.

“‘Course you didn’t,” he said, pulling you closer without ever letting up, “but you still can’t resist, can you?”

“N-no,” you all but gasped.

Taz granted you one last lazy flick of his fingers and then stood up, effortlessly picking you up in the process.

Okay, you’d never again allow yourself questioning his choice in sculpting himself.

A little bit later, after he’d given your body some time to adjust to him and eventually started moving, he seemed ambitious to push you over the edge through the rolling of his hips and his voice alone.

“I love the way you feel on me,” he all but breathed against your throat, humming when he felt your grasp on his shoulders tighten as he hit your sweet spot with an exceptional precise thrust, “sweet love of mine, getting all soft for me.”

It didn’t take you very long to reach your peak, and it was intense and breathtaking, leaving your limbs tingling and your head dizzy.

Taz looked like he was very pleased with himself.

“You should be aware,” you told him a tad later while scratching your fingernails up and down the back of his head, making him purr in response, “that you can’t fuck yourself out of every unpleasant conversation.”

He lowered his head and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, kissing you there, nibbling on your delicate skin. “Yeah, I know.”

The way he almost sounded defeated had you giggling.

Then his pecking turned into sucking, and you knew you’d be left with a pretty fine bruise you’d have a hard time covering.

But, still in post-orgasmic bliss, you decided that this would be the problem of your future self.

Finally, Taz lifted his head again, looking down at you, feigning innocence. “My life would be so much easier if I could solve anything that way. But I can’t do that with anybody, can I?“ He paused briefly, kissed you onto the tip of your nose. “Only works with you.”

Smug bastard. As if he needed to be any more confident.

But, to be fair, that dancing thing really had worked out for you.

The first time you accompanied him to a salsa class, you hadn’t even been dating yet. You’d been chatting about your plans for the evening in your friend group chat, and when you’d revealed that you hadn’t been up to anything on a Friday night and simultaneously Taz had written that he planned on going to a dancing class, one of your friends had encouraged you to join him in order to save you from an evening more suited to a middle aged cat lady - their words, not yours.

So Taz had sent you the location, and even if you’d been nervous as hell because you hadn’t been dancing since you’d been in middle school, you’d gone and had ended up having one of the most pleasant evenings in quite some time.

It’d been a while later when you’d stumbled upon the podcast talk he’d had with a friend, speaking about his dating process (or something like that). He’d said that he found going out and dancing with someone told him a lot about the person he was with, and them tagging along spontaneously was some kind of green flag for him.

After watching that clip you’d looked up from your phone to outright stare at Taz who’d been sprawled on the couch right next to you sitting cross-legged, for a moment unable to wrap your head around that it couldn’t have been all that unlikely that he’d already decided back then, with you being completely oblivious, that it could possibly be a good idea to deepen your at-that-point quite superficial, purely platonic relationship.

You’d just had to ask him.

So you did.

Taz had literally wheezed at you when you’d elaborated your suspicion. And then he’d pulled on your legs so forcefully you’d fallen onto your back, with him being on top of you just half a second later.

“You’re funny,” he’d laughed, pulling down the straps of the top you’d worn to gain access to your breasts as if he’d just waited for the next best opportunity to do exactly that.

You’d moaned when he’d sucked on your left nipple first, then moving over to your right, and when you’d had to almost forcefully pull him up to remind him that he hadn’t given you an answer yet, he’d shrugged and smiled so sheepishly you would’ve been falling for him at this exact moment if you hadn’t already been head over heels.

“Honestly, I thought of that the very first time I’d laid eyes on you,” he’d told you, never shy of using big words in order to describe the most mundane things.

First laying eyes on you had simply meant this: that one night your mutual friend had plied you with tequila and then dragged you to a club where you’d ended up screaming into Taz’ ear, trying to explain to him what different kinds of volcanoes you knew of.

Good times, really.

But it had been pointless to try and continue that conversation. Taz had been very eager to get a taste of every part of your body he could possibly reach, and you clearly didn’t have enough willpower (or any kind of motivation whatsoever) to stop him from doing exactly that.

The dancing though became a thing the two of you equally enjoyed, and you got better at it up to a point where you got confident enough to dance with other people besides Taz.

You liked having his eyes on you when you paired up with a random man of random age, and when he went on dancing with a stranger, too, your cunt clenched in anticipation of what you knew would be awaiting you once you and him got to gather a private moment.

Generally speaking, many things you and Taz did together somehow led to spicing up your sex life. A little too many one could say, and in your circle of friends there definitely were some people who’d already said that out loud, thereby making your face burn hot and giving Taz one more subject to pester you about.

Back to that surprise activity he had talked you into: you ended up on the passenger seat of a car, letting him drive you to a mysterious place, absolutely unwilling to give you the slightest hint of what might be awaiting you.

So you resigned yourself to your fate, looking out of the window first, falling asleep during the drive next.

You woke up when the car came to a stop.

“Where are we?”, you asked still half asleep, before even being able to process what you were seeing.

In fact, you were at an airfield.

When the realization hit you, you felt all color drain from your face. The first thing that came to your mind was betrayal. You’d trusted him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The glare you shot into his direction only led to Taz grinning impossibly wider. He looked so pleased with himself you had to strongly fight against the urge of just punching him.

“You can’t be serious about that.”

Taz just shrugged. “But I am.” He lent into your direction to take a closer look at your horrified expression. “You promised.”

A humorless laugh broke free from your throat, sounding somewhat desperate. You felt unwilling to realize what you’d maneuvered yourself into. What Taz was about to maneuver you into.

But a part of you, maybe that part he had counted on in the first place, felt excited for what was to come.

Sure, you were about to face death, but then again - you’d most probably make it out alive to tell the tale.

You took a deep, just a tiny tidbit shaky breath and fought your racing heart back down your throat. “Okay, so… how does this work now?”

And then you listened to Taz explain how he got in touch with a guy who was qualified to do tandem jumps from an absolutely tiny plane and you nearly shit yourself at the idea of doing that.

This was a bad idea. You weren’t even comfortable with flying in a proper airplane, if you were being absolutely honest.

And Taz knew that.

There had been several times when he’d held your clammy hands, had popped a gum into your mouth when you’d gotten so nervous you’d been unable to fumble it out of the package on your own.

And now he wanted you to get into a fucking propeller airplane that would rise up to 4000 meters above the ground, and then jump out of it, tied to a complete stranger, trusting them with your life.

He must’ve gone crazy.

But then again, he’d done that hundreds of times. And you’d done nothing but hang on his lips in absolute awe when he’d talked about it. From a distance, you’d found it fascinating.

By looking into Taz‘ expectant face you realized that by planning this, he must’ve had that in mind - the enthrallment you’d shown (and felt) whenever he’d told you or let you participate in one of those insane things he did as some sort of way of passing the time.

The soft smile he offered you while observing various emotions run over your features did it for you.

You wouldn’t let yourself back out.

You wouldn’t allow your fear to get the best of you.

You would power through (and then most likely never be doing that again).

So you did.

Screaming as if your life depended on it, being afraid and thrilled and, at some point, even fucking turned on by the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Maybe you really had a problem.

After you’d landed, got out of the gear and nearly fainted due to your circulatory system taking liberties, you couldn’t stop talking.

About how crazy it was that you’d actually done that, that you’d let Taz talk you into something so absolutely stupid and risky and stimulating - and upon hearing that he almost pulled over the car you were already sitting in again, heading back into the city.

“Wait a second,” he said, already giggling, “did you really get horny whilst doing that?”

“Horny, really,” you all but snorted, slapping playfully against his arm. “But yes, in fact I did,” you then admitted, feeling your face heat up.

Taz shot you a look that went straight to your core. “Elaborate,” he challenged.

Under his intense gaze you felt like you were about to melt into the seat. “I don’t know,” you managed, “I just thought that I had never felt so alive and so close to death at the same time, and somehow that… ignited something.”

“Something,” Taz echoed, failing to fully keep the amusement from his voice.

“Uh-huh.”

He shot you a quick look before focusing on the traffic again.

“You think,” he then asked, not being able to suppress that smug smirk you loved so much from his face, “there’s any chance that fire’ll still be… burning when we get back?”

At that you laughed. “Even if it weren’t, I’m pretty damn sure you wouldn’t be having much trouble kindling that again.”

And you were right about that. He hadn’t.

“You really done already?”, Taz asked after licking one last wide stripe across your core.

You were still trying to catch your breath again, body twitching with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, forearm laid over your eyes, laughing pantingly at his antics.

“Come on, Love, we’ve only been here for -,” he threw a quick glance onto the clock sitting on the bedside table, “- for two hours. We’ve yet to make up for the missed time.”

And with that he pushed himself up, made you roll onto your side so he could slide behind you, reaching around you to pinch your nipples.

“You can take another one, can’t you?,” he urged.

Still not being able to voice your thoughts again properly, you huffed out another breathless laugh when you felt him rubbing his once again half-hardened cock against your butt. “I can manage at least two more,” he told you, overly confident, grinning so widely and smugly you made an attempt at shoving his face out of your line of sight.

He ditched you smoothly, somehow totally unaffected by your previous activities, and pressed a wet and messy kiss onto your cheek.

“You in?”, he asked only half-joking, then basically lifting your upper leg for you and stretching your hips open, “come on, Love, you have to at least agree or disagree somehow, even when you’re still at a loss of words.”

He stilled for a moment, eyes locking with yours. Then he raised his eyebrows, slowly tilting his head to one side.

“I missed you,” was all you said, and all you needed to say really.

“I missed you, too,” Taz responded, “so damn much.”

And then he set your foot onto his hip so he’d be able to reach down and massage your clit, spreading the mess the two of you had already made even more.

“I think it’d be best if I fucked you senseless one last time -,” he stated, his fingers working expertly on you, drawing a sweet moan out of your throat, “- and then we’ll order something to eat.”

You let him manhandle you into position so he could push inside you from behind, making you claw into his forearm as he continued to circle your sensitive bud.

Eventually you ended up ordering sushi.

Being with Taz for the most part meant living on the edge - on the edge of intensity, intimacy, but also longing, missing and yearning.

Blissful weeks of all-consuming presence alternated with agonizing weeks of absence, a full schedule on his part, responsibilities on yours which led to sometimes not even being able to properly catch up during a simple phone call.

You’d talked about that when filming was coming up again, demanding him to intensify his training, to track his nutrition in a way that made it impossible for you to keep up.

And you’d started fighting, too.

There’d been an evening when you dreaded having given up your apartment because Taz was so dedicated and focused on his tasks, you felt like there was no room left for you to just exist comfortably.

There’d been a morning when even before the sun had fully risen your shared apartment had been flooded with people Taz worked with at the moment.

He’d snapped at you one time, harshly, for clicking the keys on your keyboard too loudly for his liking whilst he’d tried to focus.

And you’d snapped at him several times when you got annoyed by the place his physical stuff took up, be it inside the fridge or out on the balcony or even in your closet.

“Lucky you,” he’d bitten back once, only days away from his departure, “that I’m leaving soon, leaving you to blissful peace and quiet.”

“I hate peace and quiet!”, you’d shouted, the only purpose of it being to disagree with him.

You’d stared at each other for a brief moment, infuriated by so many different things at once it’d been impossible to tell them apart.

And then he’d moved to crush his body against yours, pressing you so very tightly into him that you’d almost became a part of him.

“You’ll come visit, yeah?”, he’d asked, face pressed against the top of your head firmly, “we’ll make it work, alright?”

You did make it work, somehow, mysteriously not losing all too much of your affection for each other, if not even gaining some more.

And when he finally got a break from his responsibilities again and you got to spend a long-awaited vacation with him at last, everything felt serene - right?

“There’d been this girl,” Taz said one evening, swirling the ice cubes inside of his glass.

You instantly raised your brows at him. Your heart felt like it’d missed a beat.

“Girl,” you deadpanned, lacking any emotion in your voice.

“Woman,” he corrected himself.

The look he shot in your direction had your guts freezing over.

“Don’t ruin my peace and quiet,” you managed, already feeling your heart pounding fearfully in your throat.

“You don’t wanna know?”

You nearly burst into tears at that.

“I need to know, I guess. I’m not sure yet if I really want to.”

Taz gave away a smile that made your heart squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Love,” he said, reaching over to you as you lay on your sun lounger.

You considered not reciprocating, momentarily too caught up in the fear of what he might tell you next, but then you ended up bending your knee so he could reach for your thigh to press it. You could use the comfort this simple touch offered.

He then told you about said woman - they’d met at work, spent some time together, had gone out for a dance, a drink, dinner. Always with people around, harmless, innocent.

You even remembered him mentioning her when you’d caught up on the phone, as a side note of what he really wanted to tell you about.

But as he elaborated, you got the impression that back then, he might have downplayed her presence a bit - more than a bit, urged a nagging voice inside your head.

It all ended the way these stories always did. Eventually she’d made a move and he’d somehow ended up kissing her back before his mind clocked in again.

He’d then declared himself, telling her about you and that he’d had no intentions of developing this further.

You pulled your leg out of his reach and spread a thin blanket over your now burning skin.

For a long moment you stared into the distance, silently, thoughts racing.

This couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel like it, of that you were sure. Everything had been just fine, mere minutes ago. And now? Right now you felt like you were caught in a nightmare.

It took a while for your brain to catch up with what you’d just heard. And the entire time Taz looked at you, watched you, waited for you to react in some way, any way.

When you next spoke, your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, indifferent.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been spending time with that woman for literal weeks,” you tried hard and failed to ban the angry quiver from your words, “and only thought of telling her that you’re taken right after she approached you?”

You snickered meanly.

“It’s not that bad, Love,” you mimicked his earlier words. “Not that bad, yeah, right.”

And only then, after vocally venting your anger, you felt able to look at Taz again, eyes burning, heart aching.

“You’re right, it’s bad,” he agreed quietly, holding your fervent gaze with some kind of self-punishing firmness. “But I’ve talked about you before that. A lot, I swear.”

“But that didn’t stop her, huh?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“And it didn’t stop you.”

“No,” he said again, voice almost breaking now.

You averted your eyes, wishing you could bring yourself to just start crying, washing yourself clean of that ill-natured wrath that threatened to swallow you whole.

“When did that happen?”, you finally managed to ask, heart still racing, thoughts roaring again.

“Last week,” his voice got quiet, “right before we wrapped.”

A dry laugh fought its way out of your throat.

“Well,” you wrung out, and those tears you’d longingly awaited finally came, “at least you haven’t kept it from me for ages.”

And then you cried, bitterly, pushing Taz away when he sank down onto his knees besides your lounger, trying to pull you into a hug.

You couldn’t bear him touching you right now. Just like your heart, now your entire body hurt, too. It almost felt like it was burning from all the anger you felt, all the ache.

You let him watch you cry, ugly and painful, and when you felt a bit more like yourself again, you reached out for his hands, grabbing onto him in despair.

“You promised,” you reminded him, voice weak and hoarse, “you promised to never let anything come between us.”

He had held his composure for so long, but at that, something in him broke. His eyes welled up, and you could hear how he had to fight against his closing throat when he rasped, “I know. I fucked up.”

He turned his head to wipe away his tears on his shoulder, as if he didn’t dare to let go of your still-clutching hands.

“I fucked up, and I really truly want to fix it again.”

You stared at him, partly wanting to choke him for those words. But as they sank in, you noticed that right beneath your anger, you were afraid. Dreadfully fearful that this might turn out to be the beginning of the end.

And you didn’t want it to end.

You couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Taz, of growing apart, of seeing your love die.

“Yeah,” you said after thinking for a moment, “I guess I want you to fix it, too.”

That tore a teary, relieved laugh out of him, and he dropped his head onto your still connected hands.

You sat like that for a little while, both of you lost in your thoughts. And when the wind took up, you silently gathered your belongings and went back to the flat you’d rented, prepped some dinner and ate without speaking very much.

Late at night, long after you went to bed and turned off the lights, his hands searched for you under the sheets.

You let him attach himself to you, let him hold you and kiss all the places his lips could reach without letting you go.

And even though your heart still ached and your whole body felt sore, you melted into his touch, longing for him to heal you, to mend what had been broken, to restore and finally make you feel whole again, and loved and cared for.

You spent a few slow and quiet days before Taz’ restlessness took over and led to him booking himself into a diving course and you lying on the beach for hours, reading and only interrupting that with an occasional swim.

All your interactions, your touches and conversations, even the sex you eventually picked up again after a few days of avoidance, felt tender, delicate, deliberate, as if both of you silently agreed on taking it slowly to not rip open wounds that had just started healing.

And when it was time to eventually change locations, to move to a livelier spot where you’d arranged to meet up with some friends and spend a less relaxed couple of days, you found that that was fine, too, and that you were able to slowly pick up the scattered pieces of your life with Taz again.

You extended your holiday as long as you could, both of you not wanting to let go just yet, but ultimately the postponing had to come to an end.

And when the door to your shared apartment finally closed behind you, you felt pressed down by a sudden heaviness, abruptly feeling so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to unpack your bags.

Luckily, Taz took care of that task, giving you the chance to slip into bed early, feeling the urge to investigate that crushing burden of feelings and at the same time wanting to evade exactly that.

Sleep came to you before you could decide what you wanted to do with yourself, and when Taz eventually cuddled up beside you, you turned into him, pressing your face to the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent.

“It’s hard,” you brought yourself to say after a while of being held and stroked and caressed.

Taz sighed. “I know, Love. I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of your head, your forehead, your right eyebrow. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for putting you through that. You deserved better. You deserve better.”

“Yeah, I did.”

But then you maneuvered yourself even closer, sheets rustling and limbs tangling until you couldn’t move a single part of your body without him noticing.

“As of right now, though,” you said after settling in, softly against his lips, “I deserve exactly this.”

And when you kissed, soft and exploring at first, you came to the conclusion that it clearly would take some more time to really overcome what had happened, but you were confident that eventually, you’d make it.

Because you loved each other, nonetheless. Because you cared, because you wanted it to work. Because even though you were stupidly in love, it obviously didn’t include being immune to doing stupid things.

When you realized, your first instinct had been to pack up all your stuff and bolt immediately. You’d clearly been overstaying your welcome, taking advantage of his hospitality.

But when you’d mentioned it, all Taz did was laugh.

“Remember when I told you that I liked having you around?” You did. “Well, I meant that.”

“But don’t you think we should start spending some time apart again?”, you’d asked, busying your nervous hands by rummaging through his fridge.

“Why would we?”, he’d responded, mouth half full of a huge bite of a banana. He chewed up, reached for a tablespoon of hazelnut butter, and before shoving that, followed by the rest of the banana into his mouth, he said, “I’d miss you like crazy if you left.”

So you’d dropped it, for obvious reasons.

One of them being that you somehow got turned on by watching him stuff food into his mouth.

He’d still been chewing when you’d let the door of the fridge fall shut and had closed the distance between you with two quick steps, already reaching out to cup his crotch with your hand.

The look on Taz‘s face had been priceless. His mouth had been so full that he hadn‘t been able to say anything properly and his brows had climbed so high on his forehead you‘d wondered if they were physically able to reach his hairline.

Nonetheless you’d started massaging his cock through his pants, and when you‘d felt him twitch under your touch, the smile on your face had edged on getting a little mean.

„I bet you would,“ you’d picked up on his words, increasing the pressure you‘d been applying on him, „it‘d be a shame if I weren’t around all the time anymore.“

And then you‘d slipped your hand into his pants to take him into your hand.

Whatever it’d been that had stopped Taz from pestering you for teasing him, you’d been grateful for it. You’d just kept working on him, watching him fall apart piece by piece, and the next time your eyes had locked in, you’d held his gaze whilst you‘d sunk down onto your knees in front of him.

„Oh my - fuck,“ had been all he’d been able to say before a deep groan had forced its way out of his throat.

Yeah, you’d bet he’d miss you like crazy if you stopped being around.

It was just a few days later, when you were meeting up with some friends at a beach bar, when the subject was brought up again. This time it was by a friend of yours asking if you’d already given up your apartment and completely moved in with Taz.

You felt your face heat up without really knowing why (although you knew perfectly well why), searching for Taz’ gaze in the crowd. It didn’t look like he’d heard, gesturing to another friend, seemingly engrossed in conversation.

“I haven’t,” you stated in a somewhat unsure voice, clearing your throat, feeling the urge to clarify, “I haven’t moved in with him.”

Your friend raised their brows in surprise. “You didn’t? I could swear someone told me that -,” and then they trailed off and laughed uncomfortably and instantly changed the subject to something more innocuous.

The awkwardness of that conversation made it hard for you to continue having a good time. You danced with Taz, watched him dance with another woman after that, holding onto your drink, brewing in your uncertainty.

What was going on with you? Why was it bothering you so much? Taz had made it more than clear that he didn’t mind you staying at his place. He not only didn’t mind it, he liked having you around, liked seeing your stuff next to his, even seemed to indulge making room for your clothes in his closet.

So what was the issue?

Well, you were, obviously.

When you’d finally said your goodbyes, after you’d let Taz wrap his arm around your shoulder at an attempt to keep you somewhat warm during the walk back to his place, he asked you outright what was going on in your mind.

For a second you considered brushing it off, not wanting to bring it up again and making yourself feel bad about your insecurities once more. But then you remembered the last time you tried to do exactly that, leading to lots of tears from both of you, so you told yourself to pull it together and just say it out loud.

“I got asked if I had moved in with you,” you told him, “since some of our friends apparently seem to be under the impression that I did.”

Taz laughed und pulled you a bit closer, his lips brushing your temple. “Can’t blame them, can you?”, he joked.

You made an uncertain noise. “Guess not.”

“That bothers you?”

“Kind of,” you admitted.

Without warning, Taz came to a full stop, causing you to stumble. “Okay then,” he said, “so, what do we do about that?”

And when you just huh’d, he continued, “do we just go on with our lives, or do you plan on leaving? Or -,” he raised his finger and tapped it against his forehead, “- do you want me to throw you out tonight? I could do that.”

“Stop messing with me,” you pleaded, pulling a wry face.

He softened at that, a warm smile spreading. “Babe, could you please stop worrying about that? We can do whatever you want to do, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He took one of your hands and brought it up to his mouth to press a kiss against your palm.

“I’d personally pack up all of your stuff and bring it over to my place, if that’s what you want. I’d even come live with you at yours.”

At that you snorted. “You’d miss the view,” you said, which made him nod in approval.

“I would, yeah. But I’d be with you.”

When you thought back to it, it seemed a bit crazy that back then, when all of this had started, you’d been really worried about the possible absence of Taz’ commitment. And right now, he turned out to be so involved with you that you felt ridiculous about ever doubting him.

Sure, he’d still be traveling, he’d be changing places if he needed to, but he talked you into coming with him whenever he could, keeping you as close as possible. You were thankful for him, and for your job that allowed you to work from wherever you needed to, meaning the compromises were minimal.

So when the day came where you finally felt ready to give up your place, the feeling spreading inside of you was equal parts relief and amazement at how satisfied you felt with that decision.

On the first evening after you’d ultimately, officially moved in with him, Taz cooked a nice dinner for the two of you, opened a bottle of wine and pulled you onto his lap after you’d finished eating.

“I’m really glad we ended up the way we did,” he said quietly, leaning forward to breathe against your neck.

You giggled at the tickle his closeness triggered. “Was kind of inevitable, don’t you think?”

“Mmmh,” he hummed, then let his teeth graze over your sensitive skin, “simply couldn’t get enough of you after I finally managed to get a taste.”

You turned to him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?” you asked, “we started sleeping with each other on what, our third date?”

“We did,” he admitted, now grinning somewhat embarrassingly, “but it took literal months for me to muster up the courage to invite you over.”

“Now you’re making fun of me,” you laughed, swatting his chest, unable to fight the blush creeping up your face, “you’re like the most explicit person I know.”

Taz bellowed out a laugh. “Explicit?”, and then he started laughing so hard that you had to kiss him in order to shut him up.

“Don’t you ever dare leave,” he told you quietly after you finally pulled apart.

Your heart felt so full in that moment, it threatened to bring you to tears. Your voice almost gave out on you, when you answered, “I won’t, promise.”

“I don’t worry about it being fun or not,” you’d stated, flipping a page you’d barely read, “I just don’t think I want to be part of… that.”

Taz had stopped his act in order to cross the room and let himself fall onto the sofa beside you.

“What do you mean by that?”, he’d asked, although you’d been absolutely certain that he’d known perfectly well.

So you’d closed your book and put it aside firmly, before fully turning to him.

“I really don’t think that it’d be a very good idea if I were to make an appearance on the stuff you load up onto the internet,” you’d said, looking at him sternly.

Taz had wrinkled his nose. “The stuff?” he’d mimicked, feigning offense, “what do you think I’m doing there?”

“Stuff?” you’d shot back, making him laugh.

And after that he’d started playing dirty, at least according to your moral compass.

“Don’t you think,” he’d asked whilst he’d been buried deep inside you, rolling his hips against yours and by that making you see stars, “that it’d be somewhat cute if we soft launched that way?” and then he’d bent down to suck on your left nipple so hard that you’d lifted your back off of the mattress.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Taz!” you’d groaned in equal parts lust and agony, “just let it slip already!”

Following your order a bit too literally, he’d slipped out of you, that fucker. You’d groaned again, this time solely out of agony.

So eventually you’d agreed to join the group going out, agreed upon filming them, but you’d made him promise (pinky-promise!) that you’d be spared of an appearance - for the time being, was what Taz hadn’t said, but you’d very clearly heard it.

You became something of a running gag - the always silent camera person, never responding, never seen, not even a glimpse, no reflection, nothing.

You made sure of that, accompanying Taz when he sat down to cut the material, trusting him with everything but keeping his promise of not showing anything of you.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want people to know about you in general. You’d openly told him that, since you didn’t want to keep anything from him - and honestly weren’t able to for very long, even if you tried.

“I want people to know about us,” you’d said, looking him dead in the eye whilst you’d grabbed onto his face, “all the people that matter know about us.”

Taz, who’d been in the middle of cutting fruit when the topic came up, had stood there awkwardly, holding half a banana in one hand and a knife in the other.

“People know,” you’d pressed.

After a moment of silent staring you’d both burst into laughter about the strange situation.

“Alright, calm down,” had been all Taz had added at that point.

But as it was with disagreements like that, you talked about it again and again, until finally the truth behind it all revealed itself.

It was late, and you were tired. The two of you were lying in bed, you close to dozing off, Taz scrolling through stuff on his phone (you weren’t allowed to openly call it stuff anymore, and when you did, you risked being teased and pestered and then kissed and being bitten and licked at, which honestly wasn’t that bad at all).

You’d cuddled up beside him, your head lying on his chest, one leg slung upon his. You were warm and comfortable and content, and when he started talking, you got a bit mad at him for disturbing your peace.

“You know,” he said, putting his phone aside and threading his fingers into your hair to massage your scalp, “I keep thinking about how you’re still avoiding being known as the person by my side.”

“Taz, don’t be unfair,” you rasped, voice hoarse from being almost asleep, “I love being at your side and I love people knowing that.”

He tried to make you lift your head so he could look at you properly. “Then why don’t you show yourself in the videos I’m posting?”

“Because -,” you said, brushing off the last bits of sleepiness whilst propping yourself up into your elbows, “- by saying people I mean real people, and not a bunch of strangers on the internet.”

“They’re not just a bunch.”

“That’s kind of part of the problem.”

For a moment you just looked at each other silently, taking each other in, thinking about what’s been said.

Finally, Taz spoke again.

“What is it you’re afraid of?” he asked, and his voice was so soft when he said it it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“Everything,” you admitted, and when he just tutted, you started crying for real.

And just like that, all the banter, the back and forth, the teasing and disagreeing of the last days and weeks melted away, was washed away by the tears you finally allowed to fall.

Taz held you for a long while, shushing, softly wiping at your cheeks, breathing kisses into your hair. He didn’t press, knew he didn’t need to, because he knew you well enough to have fathomed already that after a while you’d expose yourself, trusting him to not take advantage of what you were about to reveal.

It took some time until you were finally able to speak again.

“Honestly,” you said, voice still a bit wobbly, “for the most part I’m afraid of what people might say about me being with you.”

You suppressed a sob and forced yourself to carry on.

“But what scares me beyond belief is that you might -,” you sniffled, new tears already rolling down your face, “- that you might end up realizing that you’re way out of my league when you’re getting flooded with comments stating exactly that.”

There it was, out and said and lying there - the ugly truth.

You’d imagined feeling kind of relieved once you’d finally managed to say it out loud, but right now you just felt empty, and bare, and raw.

Taz pulled you into him again, once again soothing you, stroking your hair, whispering sweet nothings into the night.

At some point you must’ve been falling asleep, because the next time you came to some kind of consciousness, you were lying on your stomach, feeling the weight of Taz’ sleeping body half across yours, his warm breath fanning over your neck rhythmically.

When you woke the next morning, Taz was already up. You could hear him in the next room, moving, training most likely.

You rolled onto your back and rubbed your sleep-stricken face. Your eyes and cheeks still felt a bit sore from crying last night, and so did your heart.

It’s not like you’d never cried in front of Taz before - you were a human being with emotions, you cried from time to time when you were sad or angry, and sometimes even when you were happy.

But something about this, something about lying out your inner fears in front of him for him to see, felt scary and risky. Most likely these were just your insecurities raising their multiple heads, but you still felt like an open wound, sore and seeping and not ready yet to close again.

With more force than needed, you flipped back the covers, got up and padded over to the bathroom to take a shower. You wouldn’t let yourself brood on that any longer.

You hadn’t been in there for very long, still adjusting to the temperature by standing motionless and letting the warm water rain down onto your body, when out of the corner of your eyes you saw Taz coming in.

He silently undressed himself and slipped into the already steamy shower without saying a word.

In an instant, he was on you. He pulled you into a tight hug, pressed the whole length of his body against yours and his lips onto the top of your head.

You stood like that for a while, in quiet, the only sound being the constant splashing of water.

And only when you started to move, making an attempt to look into his face, Taz bent down, picked you up and pressed you into the cool wall of the shower.

You slung your legs around his hips like muscle memory, grabbed onto his neck and let him hold you, let him stare at you, his gaze searing hot and so intense it made you blush.

“You know I love you,” he finally said, voice raspy and loaded with emotion, “I love you so damn fucking much. And I wouldn’t allow anything to come between us. I wouldn’t allow. You got me. I’m yours.”

You’d cried so much last night one would’ve thought there were no more tears left inside of you, but his words, the sincerity he’d spoken with, made you break again.

You sobbed, and he silenced you by crashing his lips onto yours in a searing kiss.

When you parted again, both of you breathless, you noticed Taz was crying, too. You reached up to wipe under his eyes, gently, and moved forward to kiss him again, softer this time, tenderly.

“I know you love me, Babe. You make me feel loved and cared for every goddamn day,” breathing another kiss onto the corner of his mouth, you whispered, “and I love you just as much.”

Your eyes met again, his gaze flicking from left to right and back again, taking all of your emotions in. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he adjusted his grip onto your thighs, hooking your knee onto the crook of his arm. Then his lips crashed onto yours again whilst he simultaneously reached down to line up his hardened cock against your entrance, pushing into you in one swift motion.

Your loud moan echoed from the bathroom tiles. Taz bottomed out, and you could feel that his heart was pounding just like your own. He pressed you against the wall even harder, barely moving, thrusting against and into you as if he was afraid you might slip from him if he let loose for just a bit.

As if his gestures alone weren’t ensuring enough, he declared in a silent, rough voice, “I won’t let you go. I won’t let you get taken from me. I-“

A small sob robbed him from the ability to elaborate further, so instead he finally started moving inside you, kissing you just as delicately as he was pushing into you, suddenly lacking all force, as if it had been washed out of him along with his tears.

It didn’t take you long to tumble over the edge, swiftly followed by Taz who’d buried his face into the crook of your neck somewhere along the act. When he let down your legs, you needed him to hold you upright until they stopped tingling.

You laughed a bit at the awkwardness of it, and then you continued showering as if it had been a pretty normal quiet morning, shampooing each others hair, rubbing each others backs.

And you felt like healing a bit, not so sore and wounded anymore, content with what you shared with him and he with you.

At last, it had been somewhat inevitable. Of course you ended up making an appearance in one of his videos. How couldn’t you, after all of that?

You were filming whilst he was joking around with some friends, and when he jabbed at you, teasing you for something you’d said earlier that day, you raised your hand in front of the camera, flipping him off, stating, “fuck off, bud.”

And he, beaming all over his face, reciprocated the gesture, saying, “you fuck off, Love.”

Now, that was a soft launch of your liking.

One of the things he managed to carve out of you was the ability to clearly express your wants and needs. It’s not like you’d been a particularly shy person, but when it came to intimacy, you’d never really learned how to voice your desires.

That inevitably led to often being frustrated after you’d slept with someone, which ultimately resulted in you somehow avoiding proximity altogether.

Taz came around that quicker than you liked.

Over those first meetings, when your kisses grew from soft and delicate to hungry and intense, he quickly noticed that you had a hard time opening up and admitting what you liked.

So he started teasing you about it, constantly demanding reassurance while his hands and lips moved from one sensitive part of your body to another.

He took a bit too much pleasure in annoying you up to the point where you snapped at him, only to act all innocent after.

“I only just want to do it right, Love,” he’d asserted, unable to fight the grin around his lips, “I’m very eager to please you.”

Between gritted teeth, you’d pressed out, “you’re insufferable,” before patting away his fingers that had started twisting one of your nipples. “Alright, I fold. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you -,” Taz had then said, a smug look on his face, leaning down to mouth at the breast he started teasing before, “- to tell me -,” he’d proceeded, now with his teeth gracing your delicate skin, “- exactly -,” he’d all but bitten you, so harshly you’d sharply sucked in your breath, “- what you want me to do,” he’d then closed, softly licking at your sore skin, gently kissing the ache away.

You were done for.

Right now you were standing behind him in his bathroom, him sitting on a stool whilst you helped him redo the bleach in his hair, both of you in your underwear.

Through the mirror he watched closely as your fingers moved across his scalp, massaging the dye into his roots, seemingly listening to you going on about your encounters with one of your mutual friends.

When you noticed him watching you, you stilled.

“You even paying attention?” you asked teasingly, swatting the back of your gloved hand against his naked shoulder.

“‘Course,” he answered, voice a bit rough from being quiet so long.

“For someone earning his living with acting, you’re a pretty bad liar.”

“Well,” he said, then smacking his lips but never elaborating further, which made you laugh.

As you rounded him to wash the spare dye from the gloves, you bumped your hip against him and stated, “I guess we’re done here.”

“Are we?” he asked, voice raising over the sound of the running tap.

Your eyes met through the mirror, the suggestiveness strong in your shared gaze. Your core clenched just from the intense look in his face.

You bit your lower lip and fought hard not to show how full of anticipation you were. After spending the better half of the day in bed, you at least wanted to try and have a somehow average afternoon.

So you broke eye contact and focused on cleaning the gloves, then taking them off very deliberately.

“I should wrap up your head whilst the dye develops,” you told him, very intentionally ignoring that he was trying to pry a whole other response out of you.

His grin got impossibly wider, and when he leaned forward and made an attempt at biting into the flesh of your ass, you squealed.

“Stop biting!” you shrieked, turning off the tap a bit too harshly whilst you tried to stay away from his teeth.

Taz’ next moves where so quick and predatory you couldn’t help but gasp. He grabbed you by the hips and twirled you around, pressing you against the countertop whilst coming to a stand, caging you between his body and the hard surface behind you.

“Make me,” he rumbled before catching your lips in a rather toothy kiss.

You had to be careful to not get hair dye all over you as you were responding to his approach, grasping where it was safe - his neck, his chest, his shoulders.

“Please, stop,” you breathed when the kiss broke and his lips began to wander down to your jaw, “you’re getting dye all over me.”

Taz paused, looking up at you. “I might,” he said as if he couldn’t care less.

“I don’t want you to,” you told him, your breathing already accelerated. This man had a little too much power over you, you thought.

“Then I won’t,” he simply stated, and thereafter retreated from you so quickly that a noise of complaint tore from your throat.

“What?” he giggled, “you undecided now?”

“You better not leave me like that.”

His smile grew gentle as he leaned back in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’d never.”

You waited patiently whilst the dye worked, and then you helped him rinse and shampoo his hair. Your touches were guarded, even though your glances weren’t. And when he finally lowered the towel after drying off his head and his eyes locked into yours again, you had already lifted your bum onto the countertop.

Your stare felt so heated that you were certain it’d be able to set something aflame. Taz dropped the towel, not sparing it another look. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, all the tension that had built between you since you started your task eventually about to snap. Your anticipation was almost unbearable.

And when he finally spoke, his rumbling voice shot straight to your core.

“Tell me.”

You had quite a bit of trouble speaking around your pounding heart.

“Come closer,” you told him, giving yourself a moment to muster up the courage for what was to come next.

He obliged, coming to a stop mere centimeters from you, close enough so you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“I want-,” you started, noticing you needed to clear your throat before you were able to continue, “- I want to feel your mouth on me”, you managed, and when you saw the hungry look on his face, you were flooded by sudden boldness. “I want you to devour me.”

“Will do,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Do you want me to fuck you after?” he then offered, almost generously, before he started trailing kisses down your neck.

A soft moan escaped your lips as soon as he reached your collarbone. His hands were already roaming up your thighs, fingers hooking into the hem of your slip.

“No,” you struggled to get out over your quickening breath.

Taz stilled, looking up at you, obviously curious.

You had a hard time keeping control of yourself. All of this felt staggering and at the same time so arousing you were damn sure it’d only take a little nudge for you to completely break down.

“I -,” you wrung out, feeling so heated and so overwhelmed by his touches and his looks and his everything, “- I want you to come in your pants.”

A surprised huff escaped him, paired with a twitch of his eyebrows.

“That’s a new one,” he then mused, already carrying on with the task at hand - making you lose your goddamn mind, “you’re pretty demanding today.”

“Well, Babe, that’s on you, I guess.”

“Mmmh,” he hummed accordingly as he squatted before you, pressing his cheek against the inside of your thigh, “and I love everything about it.”

You were utterly, completely gone for.

He had spontaneously invited you over for dinner, cooked just for the two of you, served you another two drinks and then called you a cab to ensure you’d get home safely.

After that, he reached out to you more often, asking if you wanted to tag along when there was a hangout going on, but also inviting you over when he was on his own, a bit tired after a long day spent in the ocean, or after filming stuff for his social media, when everything got quiet and he felt like he was in need of some calm company.

At first you thought there wasn’t much behind it (and suffocated every doubt in that immediately), but after you caught him watching you with an almost intimidating intensity while you were doing something absolutely random, you couldn’t bring yourself to not wonder about the possibility of this leading somewhere.

So the next time he’d invited you over, you’d all but bluntly asked him about his intentions.

“Well, I enjoy your company,” he’d told you almost casually whilst digging for ice in the freezer to put in your drink.

“Obviously,” you’d said, catching his gaze when he’d set your glass down in front of you, the material already fogged up with condensed water.

He’d smirked, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m really trying to be smooth and all that,” he’d then said, “and you’re being a bit bold.”

“That startled you?”

“No.” He’d chuckled, his gaze roaming for a moment before his eyes had locked in with yours again. “I like that about you.”

That’d been your turn to blush. You’d felt the hotness crawl up your cheeks, suddenly incapable of holding his gaze any longer, taking a sip of your drink to give yourself the opportunity of regaining some of your composure.

“What?” Taz had laughed, “now you’re getting all shy? Not used to someone else being upfront?”

You’d looked up at him again, pursing your lips, amusement written all over your features, your heart pounding in your throat.

And when his eyes had flicked to your lips, just for a brief second, and he’d leaned over the counter between you, you’d met him halfway, had felt his breath fanning over your face, then finally your lips touching oh so softly, and that had been it.

You wouldn’t necessarily say that you were in love. Or that he was, either.

Although you hoped he was, a little bit. You had your suspicions he was getting there. Which didn’t bother you at all.

So, when he opened the door to his apartment this evening to let you in, thankfully wearing a shirt (this time), kissing your cheek as a greeting, asking about your day whilst hollering back into the kitchen to continue prepping the meal, you had a pretty hard time forcing these butterflies back into the pit of your stomach.

Yeah, not in love. As if.

You sat down on the balcony and ate together, and when you made the mistake to look at him not giving a shit about the mess that he made with his food, eating with focus, enjoying every bite, you couldn’t help these goddamn butterflies from coiling up and shooting down, straight into your core.

You were fucked.

Well, not literally - at least not yet.

But somewhere between that soft first kiss and this exact moment right now, when his eyes flicked up and he met your gaze and you could watch his amusement grow just by recognizing the look on your face, knowing exactly what was going on in your head right now, you must’ve lost your goddamn mind. Or your sanity.

Your decency, that much was certain.

You could watch him growing smug in slow motion.

“Oh, fuck you,” you deadpanned, wiping your mouth.

All he did was raise his eyebrows, silently asking ‘fuck me, or fuck you instead?’. You put your napkin down, grabbing your glass of cool water instead.

“Cheeky,” you murmured, your eyes set firmly onto the horizon.

His mouth was still half full, when he responded, “you like that about me.”

“I do,” you conceded, a smile you couldn’t suppress spreading on your face.

“But,” you then said, suddenly flooded by a strange courage, forcing yourself to a more serious look on your face, accentuating your words by setting down your glass a bit too harshly, “I’m a bit concerned about where this is headed.”

Taz took his time chewing up, wiping his fingers and mouth, taking a sip of his water first, before he said, brows slightly furrowed, “to the bedroom, I guess.”

You sighed. “Don’t act oblivious, please.”

“I’m not,” he chuckled, smirking again, “I’m just a bit… evasive.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah? Why that?”

Taz hummed, clearly attempting to gain some time, thinking about his response. You watched him patiently as he reached for his water again, as he licked his lips.

“I guess,” he then said, slowly, almost cautiously, “this is headed wherever we want it to.”

Your heart was in your throat now, pounding there so urgently that you had a hard time thinking clearly. You waited, longed for him to say more, to somehow clarify what he wanted this thing between you to be, but he just looked at you, smiling softly, then looked away out over the ocean in front of his balcony.

You couldn’t help but wonder about how quickly this evening turned from having a good time with someone you liked into an existential crisis.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the sun set, neither of you making an attempt at revealing your thoughts and feelings yet. A part of you longed for clearness, for him committing himself, but you had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t do you the favor.

Maybe for the same reason you yourself were hesitating. Being with him as in spending time with him, even getting intimate with him, felt easy, almost like second nature.

A touch here, a kiss there, wandering lips, roaming hands. You’d indulged in this, particularly noncommittally, having a good time without allowing your thoughts to wander too far.

But as the days and eventually weeks had gone by and your excitement over meeting him again had grown so big, so inevitably, you simply couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about this too much anymore.

Finally, after you felt you’ve had enough of that brewing, you turned to him again. He mirrored you almost instantly, turning his entire body to face you, as if he’d been waiting for you to just take the first step.

“I -,” you started, already losing your courage over that one syllable.

“You -?”, Taz asked, not in a teasing way, just… awaiting.

You felt yourself growing frustrated, over his patience and calmness, but mostly about your sudden shyness.

“Why do I have to declare myself first?”, you asked, growing slightly upset.

You were met with a laugh breaking free from his throat, instantly making your face burn hot.

“Babe”, Taz said softly, reaching over the table between you for your hand. “I’d like you to declare yourself first, because I -,” with his free hand he pointed to his chest, “- have been nothing but unsubtle about my intentions with you.”

Now it was your time to laugh, half frustrated still, half amused by his antics. “You think so?”

“Yeah, well…,” he trailed off, tilting his head from one side to the other.

“I don’t know about that.”

He sighed, acting a bit annoyed by your hesitation, but remained silent after. He watched you squirm under his gaze, then your attempt to pull your hand from his grip. And when you growled in frustration, he offered you an encouraging smile, which only led to you feeling infuriated.

Why is this so hard?, you internally screamed at yourself, don’t make this so hard, it isn’t!

But somehow, it was.

Because you knew Taz, you knew how he was, you knew that he gained deep satisfaction out of being noncommittal and ambivalent and adventurous, and you didn’t want this thing between you to turn out to be another adventure for him when you had already lost yourself in it a bit.

“Oh, fuck me,” you snapped, the hand that wasn’t still held by him wiping over your face. “I might be in love with you, okay? And I might be scared because of that. And right now, I’m really frustrated, because I should’ve just let you fuck me rather than starting this conversation and letting you fuck with me instead.”

The silence that followed your outburst felt deafening. Tears pricked in your eyes, tears of fear and frustration and anger. You finally pulled your hand from his, got up so quickly that your chair scraped over the floor and harshly rubbed your hands over your eyes in a desperate attempt of getting rid of your emotions.

This was humiliating. You were going to leave, right fucking now.

When you felt Taz grabbing your wrist, you all but whipped around to glare at him.

His face looked calm, with no trace of his former amusement. His fingers brushed over your skin, up to your elbow at first, then down again until his fingers intertwined with yours.

When he finally started speaking, particularly calm, your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly that you had a hard time understanding his words.

“I am very much trying,” he said, his eyes piercing into yours, “to not be fucking with you.”

He took a deep breath. “Fucking you, yeah, that I like.” You all but snorted, unamused and eased at the same time by his attempt of lightening the mood.

“And maybe I was acting a bit too casual. I’m sorry that I left you hanging. That I -,” he pointed his tongue out to wet his lips, “- left you under the impression that I was just in for a fling.”

“A fling,” you parroted, fighting a grin.

“You’re unbearable.”

“I’m not the one using the term ‘a fling’,” you shot back, air-quoting the last words.

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“Yeah, that much is clear.”

You looked at each other for a short moment before bursting into laughter that felt like alleviation.

Still laughing, Taz pulled you into him, hugging you so tightly that he ended up pressing the air from your lungs. With your ear squeezed against his chest, you could hear his amusement, his delight, rumbling in his chest.

“I might be in love with you, too,” he eventually said, quietly and a bit muffled, his face pressed against the crown of your head.

And after hearing you sigh in relief and feeling you melting into this hug a bit more, he added with his voice loaded with smugness, “and I still might want to fuck you tonight.”