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“Hello and welcome back to the final chapter of today’s Taskmaster saga! We’re about to see our five comedians take the stage for a live task that promises to be a riot. But before we dive into that, we need to wrap up the current conundrum that’s been unfolding.“Alex, could you give us a quick reminder of the task?” Greg asks, glancing over at him.“Yes, they were each given £50 to buy you a gift, Greg. We have one person left,” Alex replies, gesturing toward you.All eyes are on you now. You can feel the heat of theirs, and the audience’s gaze, waiting in anticipation to see your gift. You smile sheepishly and stand up. “Er, I—I hope it fits. I didn’t have you to try sizing, obviously.” You scurry up and hand Greg an unmistakable black and pink shopping bag. You quickly sit back down, your face flushed as you stifle laughter.Greg rolls his eyes. “Ann Summers. For fuck’s… Did you know about this,” he asks incredulously, turning to Alex.He responds with a quick shake of his head, panic in his eyes. “No, she sent me a picture of this.” The screen flashes to show a bottle of Patron Silver, the logo covered with a custom Taskmaster sticker.Greg raises an eyebrow, looking mildly annoyed. “Based on the weight alone, I can tell you it’s not tequila.” As soon as he looks in the bag, his expression changes to one of shock, followed by uncontrollable laughter. He pulls out a black, lacy bodysuit, holding it up for everyone to see. The audience and panel roar with laughter as Greg tries, and fails, to regain his composure, his face turning bright red.“Oh god. Is this—are these crotchless,” he finally manages to ask between fits of laughter. The audience roars louder, their excitement building. Greg hides his face behind his cue cards trying, and still failing, to pull himself back into character. “You're going to have to do a lot of talking to get even one point out of this.”You bite your lip, trying to hold back your own laughter. “My mum desperately wants me to bring a partner home for Christmas, so I was kind of hoping she’d shut up about it if I did something like this. Sexy pants, the really nice ones that don’t fall apart after one shag, are expensive!” You lock eyes with Greg and nearly lose it. “But mostly I thought ‘I’ve got a free £50 and I’m going to buy myself a present. Fuck the task! Fuck Greg!’”The room erupts into laughter again. Greg shakes his head, fanning himself with his cards. “I can’t give you points for that,” he finally manages to choke out. “It's not a gift for me. You didn't complete the task. Jesus Christ… yeah, no points.”You laugh and shrug, graciously accepting your disqualification with a grin.
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18 months earlier
You had aimed to arrive at the party “fashionably late” and it seemed to have worked. Your plan was simple: slip in, say a quick hello to a few people, and then slip out. Being a newcomer to the comedy scene didn’t mean you had to hang around all night, especially since it had been years since you went to a party this late, and honestly, you were doing your best to keep from yawning.After grabbing a few snacks and a beer, you settle into what you deemed a decent spot between the kitchen and the living room. People would see you in passing, and you wouldn’t have to seek them out.“Trying to blend in, are we?”You glance over and jump with surprise to see an actual giant next to you.“Shit! I'm so sorry. Are you alright?” he asks.You nod, recovering from the shock. “Just took me by surprise. That's all.”“Greg,” he says, reaching out a hand, introducing himself.You shake it and smile. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m—”“—not used to being recognized,” he interrupts, grinning. “Not every day I get to meet an Edinburgh Best Newcomer nominee.”“Yeah right,” you scoff. “Isn’t that pretty much all you do these days?”He shrugs, seeming to concede. “Does it help that I’d seen you before Edinburgh?”You can feel your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh god.”Greg chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Don’t worry, I think you’re quite good. Reminded me of myself—quitting a day job for the excitement of something more risky.”You blink, a little taken back. “Oh, erm, thank you. I appreciate that.”“If you don’t mind me asking, what pushed you to make the change?”You take a sip of your beer, looking down. “Er, got off work a little early one afternoon. Thought I’d surprise my boyfriend and didn’t tell him I was on my way home. Surprised him big time. And his other girlfriend. Had a bit of an existential crisis. Didn’t love what I was doing either and decided to bin it all. Started from scratch.”“Shit. I'm sorry to hear that.”“Nah, don't worry about it. Best worst thing that could’ve happened to me.” You take a few more gulps of your beer. “Though I suppose I could’ve just done the normal thing and make the drastic, terrible decision of getting fringe, try to convince myself and everyone I like it for three years, let it grow out because it's too annoying to upkeep, and finally admit it looked horrible the whole time.”He laughs. “Speaking from experience?”You nod, and crack a smile. “Yeah, did that one about 15 years ago.”Greg laughs again, making you feel a little more at ease. “How’s the change been treating you? Really?”“It’s getting better. Probably helps that I’ve finally convinced my parents they don’t need to come to every gig.”“That’s nice. They’re supportive, then?”“They were definitely less than thrilled when I started, but yeah, they’ve come around. I think my dad is a bit jealous, actually. I think he wishes that he would’ve, at the very least, tried. Honestly, he’s the funniest person I know.”“My dad was the exact same.” He takes a sip from his own drink and shifts closer, leaning in slightly. “You know, it’s been fun and all, but I was thinking I might leave, actually.”Your face suddenly falls at the thought of being alone at the party again.“Care to join me?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “There’s a pub down the road. I saw it on my way here.”You blink, trying to process the sudden shift in plans. “Oh! Er, yeah! I’d like that!”He nods toward the exit, motioning you to follow. You trail behind Greg as he leads the way, half-expecting that someone he actually knows to pull him into a new conversation before you can leave, but nobody does.The night air is cool and refreshing after being at the party. You find yourself in a slow jog trying to keep up with him.He chuckles seeing you struggle to keep up with him and slows down. “Sorry.”“No, you’re fine,” you say, slowing down as well.The pub isn’t far, and soon you’re seated at a cosy table in the corner, a stark contrast to the lively party.“Anything in particular to drink?”“Any wheat beer if they have it. Otherwise, surprise me.”He smiles and nods. A few minutes later, he comes back with two pints.“So,” he begins, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed grin, “any more boyfriends helping you make life-changing decisions I should be aware of?”“Oh, god no. Just me and my questionable life choices. Like following a strange man, nearly twice my age, to a pub after I just met him at a party.”“Doesn't get much more questionable than that,” he laughs.“I really should stop doing it.”He looks momentarily caught off guard but then laughs. "Common occurrence?"You hesitate for a second but decide to proceed with oversharing. "Used to be back at uni," you admit, taking a drink of your beer, blushing a bit. "My best friend would say if someone made me laugh, bought me a drink, and walked me home, they’d get the honour of sneaking out of my room in the morning.""Fuck me, I've just got one step left," he grins.You laugh, nearly spitting out your beer. "Should I expect you to come up with an excuse to walk me home?"“Hardly need an excuse. It’s dark, it’s London—”“‘It’s dark, it’s London’?” You raise your eyebrow in surprise. "Is that the best you can do?"Greg leans in, adopting an exaggeratedly serious tone. “It’s a genuine concern for safety.”“And if I didn’t want to go home? What then?”“Then you’d have to come to mine,” he quips without missing a beat.You stare at him playfully, attempt to take another drink, but start laughing again before the glass meets your lips. “You’re coming on pretty strong.”“You’re no better though, giving me a step-by-step guide on how to get into bed with you, on a first date no less.”“A first date already? Is that what this is?”Greg watches you laugh, clearly enjoying how easy it is to get you to smile. He leans back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have to speed run these things. Might not have much time left, being ‘twice your age’ and all.”You try to suppress another laugh, covering your mouth. “Since you're on borrowed time, I guess I should make a decision on you walking me home before we finish our drinks."He straightens up, looking serious for the first time all night. “I don’t want to pressure you.”You smile and take another drink. “I’m not.”He relaxes again. “Good to know.”You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. “So, why did you really want to leave that party?”“Besides hating being out in public?”“Besides that,” you laugh.“I could’ve been there all night. Don’t like parties anymore, but I tolerate them. But you, trying to blend in and somehow failing at it, looked like you needed a reason to escape.”“I didn’t think I was that obvious,” you argue, learning back in your chair.“Painfully obvious.”“Then, thank you for saving me from standing there awkwardly all night.”“My pleasure.”You can’t help but smile as you finish off the last of your beer.Greg finishes his pint and sets it down on the table with a contented sigh. He looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the verdict? Going home alone tonight, or should I give you my newest excuse so I can make sure you get to your door?"“Go on, let’s hear it.”He opens his mouth, stops, smiles, and then starts again. “These drinks didn’t last nearly as long as I thought they were going to, or hoped they would, and making sure you get home safely gives me more time to talk to you.”You smile, feeling warm and fuzzy inside from how quickly he can go from joking to being sweet. “Alright. Let’s go.”—You round the corner with him and continue about halfway down the deserted road. You gesture toward a black door with your head. “This one’s me.”“Right,” he says with a sad smile. “It was lovely to meet you properly. And as I mentioned many times on our walk, I enjoyed spending the night with you.”“Me too. And thanks. Good night.”“Night.”You unlock the door, hesitating just for a second, then turn back around. “Greg! Wait!”He turns, surprised but smiling. “Yes?”“Er, can I borrow your phone for a second?”He pulls it out, unlocks it, and hands it over. “Locked out with a dead phone?”“No, you never gave me your number.” You pull up the dial screen and type in your number real quick, hit call, and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket before hanging up and handing it back. “I have yours, and you have mine.”“No excuses not to do this again.”“None.” You bite your lip, mulling one other thought over in your head. “Just one more thing.” You give a gentle tug on his shirt, getting him to lean down, and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I'll see you around. Good night.”His face lights up with a chuckle. “Good night, again.”
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Present day
You collapse on the sofa of your assigned dressing room, already dressed in your street clothes. You could leave at any moment, but it had been a long day of filming and you needed a minute to decompress. The idea of napping right here is tempting, but you resist, knowing the crew likes the set clear within the hour. You close your eyes, enjoying the peaceful moment.There's a familiar, hurried knock at the door.You sigh softly, already knowing who it is. “Yeah? Come in.”Greg slips through the door as quickly as he can, quietly shutting the door behind himself with all the stealth of a walrus. “Thought you might want this back.” He hands over Ann Summers bag, then sits down next to you pretending to be casual.You look at the bag and then him, suppressing a smile. “I was starting to think you were going to keep it.”Greg chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes you glance sideways at him. “I thought about it, but there's no point since it’s a bit too small. I don't really need Alex, or the crew, asking any more questions about it.”You lean on his shoulder and he wraps an arm around you. “I’m really sorry. I couldn’t help it. The morning I finally decided on what to give you, I hadn't seen you in almost two weeks and I was really missing you.”“If I had know ‘Fuck Greg’ was to be taken literally, it would have been five points,” he laughs.You close your eyes and smile to yourself, lightly dragging your fingers up and down his thigh. He groans softly, letting you know how much he’s enjoying it.Greg exhales slowly, trying to regain some of his composure. “What a fucking gift.”“I still think you’d look sexy in it,” you tease, stopping the gentle caresses and instead swing your legs over his, trapping him on the couch.“You should've asked for my size.” He smiles at you playfully. “Really though, crotchless?”“Wanted to make sure there was enough room not to crush your bits.” You both laugh again.Another knock on the door interrupts your laughter, and you shift away from Greg trying to look innocent. “Yeah?”Alex’s head pokes in cautiously. “Everything alright here? I thought I heard some suspiciously happy noises.”Greg's tone turns to mock seriousness. “I was just returning the selfish gift she bought for herself, and reprimanding her for pulling a stunt like that.”Alex glances back and forth between you two for a moment, not entirely convinced. “It didn't really sound much like that.”Greg rolls his eyes, and Alex raises an eyebrow, not willing to dig deeper today. “Er, they want everyone out in the next 20 minutes so they can start cleaning up. See you both tomorrow.” He leaves quickly.You lean back into Greg. “You think he's onto us?”“Oh definitely. He’s not an idiot. That right now was him telling us not to shag in the dressing room.”You smile and nuzzle your face into his side. “We should probably head out. I was trying to muster up the energy to leave when you came in.”“Is your flatmate still out of town?” Greg asks softly as he gets up.“Yeah, she's back next week,” you reply, standing up as well.Greg takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, knowing that as soon as both of you walk out into the corridor the flirting will stop until you're back in private. You look up at him, seeing the playful glint in his eyes, and let out a soft laugh. He keeps his voice low. “Mind if I come over? I wouldn't mind seeing you in that tonight,” he says, motioning toward the Ann Summers bag.“Oh, the thing I got zero points for?” you tease. “Too bad you give points with your head and not your dick.”Greg’s laughter fills the quiet dressing room as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Five points in my heart,” he murmurs affectionately. “Should we walk out together, or should I go first?”“We can walk out of the room together but we should probably leave the studio separately,” you suggest. “I don’t peg Alex as someone who would start rumours, but I don't want to stir anything up if anyone else is suspicious. Especially if everyone is waiting for us to hurry up before the cleaning crew comes through.”“Agreed. I’d like to keep you my secret a bit longer.” Greg’s fingers linger on yours for a moment before softly kissing your forehead. “Drive safe. See you in a bit,” he whispers.You both step out of the dressing room to the deserted corridor and head toward the main studio exit and to the car park. A few of the crew are standing around, having a quick smoke before heading home themselves. You do a light jog to your car and throw your stuff in the back seat, then turn around and glance at Greg’s car. He’s already driving off, playing his part perfectly, not giving you a second glance.
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You push open the door to your flat, tossing your keys on the entry table and your bags into your bedroom. You look around, analysing the cleanliness. Greg's place, in comparison, was a disaster. You wander into the kitchen, checking for clean wine glasses, then head to the bathroom for a quick shower.Wrapped in a towel, you go back to your bedroom. You stare at the Ann Summers bag sitting on your bed.
Oh, what the hell.
You pull out the lingerie, holding it up to the light. When you’d bought it, you thought it would be a good laugh, something fun to tease him with. It feels so small, so delicate, so slutty… so unlike you. But that’s what was fun about it, right? You slip it on, taking care to adjust it where it needs to be with a self-conscious laugh.The butterflies in your stomach flutter around as you look yourself over in the mirror, trying to fix your hair in an attempt to look more put together than you feel. After a moment, you decide to pull on a pair of tartan pyjama pants and an oversized T-shirt. You didn’t want to send him into cardiac arrest right at the door.You sit on the edge of your bed, your legs bouncing with anticipation. Your nerves didn’t make sense. Greg had been here dozens of times, and yet, tonight felt different.A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. When you open it, Greg stands there, cradling a few bottles of rosé. He grins down at you, his eyes soft as they meet yours.“Evening, darling,” he murmurs, stepping inside and quickly shutting the door behind him. He places the bottles on the table, then leans down to give you a long anticipated kiss.“I missed you,” you say, reaching for one of the bottles and heading toward the kitchen, adding a little extra sway to your hips, fully aware he’s watching your every move.His laughter is soft, trailing behind you. “Nice of you to dress up.”“You’re one to talk,” you quip, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Sexy suit on stage, and now you're in jeans and a hoodie.”As you pour two generous glasses of wine, you catch the amused glint in his eye. “How do you not have people lined up down the street just begging to take you out?”“How do you know I don't?” you ask playfully, handing him a glass.“And you're still choosing to be with me?”“Somehow,” you tease, but the flutter in your stomach betrays your light tone.The shift in your mood is subtle but present. You brush against him as you head toward the sofa, and he follows, sinking into it beside you. You curl up against him, leaning your head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you.“Can I ask you something?”He tightens his arm around you and pulls you closer. “Of course.”“What did you really think when you saw it?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intend.“I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am to have you. I don’t give a fuck if that sounds sappy because it's true.” He pauses, sensing your anxiety. “Are you alright?”You pull away just enough to be able to look at him properly. “Yeah. Just, erm, I’ve never worn one of these things before. I always thought it would be… fun? I don't know… Then the opportunity to tease you with it seemed too good to pass on. And now that the joke isn’t a joke anymore, I guess I feel a bit—”“Overwhelmed?” he offers, his hand gently cupping your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.“Yeah.”His thumb brushes across your cheek. “As much as I do want to see you in it, I don't want to be uncomfortable. I know you've got it on under there. I don't care what you wear—or don't wear. I’m not here for it.”“I do want to show you… I will. Just… maybe after a few more glasses of wine.” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, grateful for his understanding, then cuddle back up next to him.He chuckles, his fingers starting to run through your hair. “No rush. We’ve got all night, the morning… Forever as far as I’m concerned. Do it when you’re ready.”You relax into his chest, the warmth of his body comforting you as you sip your wine.“How is it?” he asks softly, breaking the comfortable silence.“Not bad. Cheapest thing in Tesco?”“Waitrose, I’ll have you know.”“Ooh fancy!” you giggle.“You may think it all tastes the same, but some of us can tell the difference.”“You’re allowed to buy the nice stuff you know.” You take another sip, then snuggle your face into the side of his chest. “I almost gave you that tequila instead.”“Seriously?”“Yeah, it's in the cupboard.”“What are we doing drinking this shit? Go get it,” he laughs.With a laugh, you get up and retrieve the bottle and two shot glasses. You pour two shots and hand him one before sitting back down beside him. You clink the glasses and knock them back, wincing at the familiar burn that runs down your throat.Smiling to yourself, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your fingers trace his beard as his hands settle on your waist, holding you steady. Greg’s eyes widen with desire as he pulls you closer, his breath warm against your cheek. You kiss him slow and deep. His grip tightens, kissing you back.He pulls back just a little, eyes closed and smiling, his forehead resting against yours. “Just when I think the teasing might stop.”“Have you met me?” You smirk, your fingers dancing through his hair.He chuckles softly, finally opening his eyes, one of his hands tracing up your back. “It’s one of the better things that’s ever happened to me.”You smile and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Give me another shot and, like, ten minutes and I’ll be ready to show you.”“Such a fucking lightweight,” he laughs, helping you off his lap.“You’re not complaining.” You slide off his lap and grab the bottle to pour another round. You hand him his shot and count down, shuttering again as it burns down your throat.Greg chuckles, pulling you back into his arms for another cuddle. His heart beats steadily below your ear adding to the warmth of the tequila spreading through you. You trace lazy patterns on his chest, the soft fabric of his hoodie under your fingers. His hand finds your hair again, his fingers running through it in slow, steady strokes.You close your eyes and nuzzle into his side, pressing a few soft kisses against it, then hug him just a little tighter.He kisses your forehead in return, his lips warm and gentle. There’s a brief, but noticeable pause as he shifts slightly to look at you more closely. He’s always been good at reading your mood, sensing the shift between playful and serious, almost annoyingly quick. “Anything else on your mind?”You sigh, gathering your thoughts for a moment before speaking. “I—we’ve had, what, the last week-and-a-half together? Every morning. Every night. During the day, even though I can't kiss you or anything like that at the studio, I get to be with you. It's the longest uninterrupted stretch we’ve had together.
“Don't get me wrong. I'm excited to start my tour finally, but I'm not ready to give up seeing you every day. I love this. I don’t want it to end.”“I know,” he says quietly, but firmly. “I'm excited for you… but I've gotten used to you being around all the time too.”“It sucks.”He laughs softly. “It does. Although I’m thrilled you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”“Not even close,” you whisper, breathing the familiar scent of him mixed with the faint trace of alcohol. “We'll be fine, right?”His hand pauses for just a fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but you catch the lull in his rhythm. You know he's been asking himself the same thing on repeat. You both were chronic overthinkers, taking turns of who worried and who comforted, even if you were both worried about the same thing.“Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I think we’ll be fine”“You promise?” you ask, your voice a little quieter and a little more vulnerable than you’d like.“I promise,” he replies, his fingers continuing their slow, soothing motions through your hair. The warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart seem to fill the room with a comforting rhythm to mostly quiet the thoughts spinning in your head.“We’re just… shifting it a bit,” he continues after a few seconds, his voice soft in the still room. “If anything, we’re going back to how it was. We’ll make it work.”You sigh loudly, knowing somewhere deep down that he's right. “I thought tequila was supposed to make you horny.”“I think wine causes crippling anxiety.”“Oh, well then we’re fucked,” you deadpan.His whole body shakes with laughter, and you hug him closer, burying your face into his chest, letting the laughter ease the tension. It feels good to let go, even if just for a moment.“We’ll be fine,” you finally agree, your laughter quieting as you settle back into him.“We’ll be fine,” he repeats, kissing your forehead again. His presence, his warmth, it all makes you feel safe—like no matter what, you’ll figure it out.You tilt your head up and give him a proper kiss, finally feeling content and comfortable. “I think I'm ready,” you whisper softly.Greg sits up a little straighter, his eyes widening with anticipation. “Seriously?” He looks as if he’s been called to duty.You laugh, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “Yeah. Er, give me a minute? I'll call you in.”“You’re not just going to do it right here?” He gives you a cheeky grin.You roll your eyes playfully. “No! I just… I want to make sure it looks perfect.”You rise from the sofa, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. Greg watches you disappear into the bedroom with all the excitement of a child about to meet Father Christmas for the first time.
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You close the bedroom door behind you and quickly look around the room. Your bed still has a collection of bags and clothes on it. You toss them to the side in preparation.You pull off your T-shirt and pyjama pants, checking yourself in the mirror for any last-minute adjustments, though you know he wouldn’t even notice a wrinkle or two. “You have to promise not to laugh,” you shout to him through the bedroom door.“I would never!”You put on your dressing gown over it, tying it loosely at the waist, knowing he's not expecting yet another laying of teasing. “Okay, I guess you can come in,” you say, pulling the door open.He cocks his head, a hint of confusion on his face at first, but it quickly disappears, trusting you.You take his hand and guide him to sit on the bed. You stand in front of him between his legs. His hands instinctively reach for your hips, waiting for you to make the next move like he always does.You smile down at him, the butterflies in your stomach now having been replaced with pterodactyls. You place your hands on top of his, slightly fiddling with his fingers.“It’s, erm… It’s still your gift, right?” You try to keep your voice steady and guide his hands to the belt.He looks up, locking eyes with you, a smile forming across his face. His hands hover just above the knot in your belt. “Are you sure?” he asks softly.You nod, the pterodactyl wings beating harder than before. “Yeah, I'm sure.”Slowly, he begins to untie the knot, the soft fabric slipping in his fingers as he parts it. You shift your shoulders slightly, helping it off, feeling a cool rush of air as it falls to your feet.For a moment, there’s silence. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail. He’s indecisive with his hands, first reaching for yours but quickly letting go. They lightly brush over the lace, taught across your stomach. Finally, they move back to your hips, holding you tighter than before, as if letting go will cause you to fade away.“You look…” He pauses, clearly at a loss for words. “Fuck me,” he finally exhales quietly.You bite your lip and laugh. “I was kind of planning on it.”He chuckles, low and deep, then pulls you onto the bed. He straddles himself over you on all fours, one of his knees pressed between your legs. You reach up and hold his face, fingers lightly teasing his beard before he leans down for a kiss.One of his hands, more decisive now, caresses your inner thigh before pushing it open. He kisses you again, lustfully, before easing off. “I love you,” he whispers on your lips.“I love you too,” you manage to murmur before he kisses you again. Your hands move down his body, unbuckling his belt and giving his hardening cock a gentle rub. You hear him groan softly at your touch.He stands up, pulling his shirt off. You help him get his trousers and pants off, then continue to stroke him with your hand. You look up at him, grinning. You love the look he gets on his face when you touch him, the way he bites back his moan.He leans back down, his hand running down over your breast to your lace covered stomach, resting on your hip momentarily before caressing the inside of your thigh again. He kisses your collarbone, up your neck, and behind your ear.He runs his fingers along the outside of your pussy, taking his time to tease you just as much as you teased him earlier, then traces up and down your slit. His touch is light, but still enough to make you crave him.His thumb starts to circle your clit. You pull him a little closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck, kissing it between moans.One of his fingers pushes inside of you. You inhale sharply and swear. Sometimes you forgot just how big his hands—his fingers, were. It feels good. He always feels good. You tighten around him, his finger massaging you from inside.“You’re so fucking wet,” he purrs in your ear before kissing it.Your hand finds your clit, taking over for him, finding harmonious rhythm with his finger pumping in you. You start pushing your hips up, hot pressure starting to build low in your abdomen, desperate to keep his hand going. You surrender to him, your moans having turned to screams as he strokes your g-spot bringing you to a shattering orgasm. He continues as he watches you writhe, coming again and again all over his hand.Gasping for breath and shaking, you grab his wrist, signalling for him to pause.“Are you alright?” he asks cheekily.“Yeah. I just… erm, I need a second.” You lay there for a moment, taking the break to recover. Your fingers dance behind his ear at the top of his neck. He leans toward you, his eyes closed, and gives you a soft kiss. A sudden surge of boldness overcomes you as you see how easily he melts at your touch. “Lay down,” you direct.He grins, quick to follow your order.You crawl up toward the headboard, kneeling beside him. Gently, you hold his cheek and lean down to give him another kiss. Then, you remove his glasses and set them on the nightstand. You attempt to give him a sexy smile, but start to laugh as you straddle yourself over his face, inching your pussy closer to his mouth.He laughs as well, then kisses the inside of your thigh, his beard slighting tickling it, working his way in toward your lips. He switches to the other thigh, kissing and licking, getting closer and closer, finally sucking on your outer lips.His hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh, trying to pull you closer. He pushes his tongue inside of you, then licks slowly all the way to your clit, flicking it before repeating, lapping at your juices, trying to get as much as he can before it starts to leak over his face.“Yes,” you gasp. “Just like that. Oh, fuck… please, do not stop.”His chuckles send light vibrations through your pussy. You can feel another round of shockwaves building deep within, manifesting in sheer ecstasy. You cling to the headboard for dear life, your body twitching, with his mouth unrelenting on your clit.You shimmy away from his mouth, giving yourself another breather. You climb off and give him a kiss, the taste of your cum on his lips. “I want to ride you,” you whisper in his ear.“Please,” he begs, his voice deep and hushed.You plant a few kisses on his chest as you make your way down him. You mount him again, this time over his hips. You grind yourself over his now rock-hard cock, getting it wet from your cum. You slowly sink down on to his erection. You take a second to let your body adjust to him, smiling down at him enjoying the look of pleasure on his face.He reaches for your waist, holding you as you rock your hips against him, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. His fingers brush lightly across your throbbing clit. The touch is too much—you're too sensitive to keep playing with it—and you partially collapse on his chest, moaning.You move your hands to his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright as yet another orgasm ripples through you. He grabs onto your ass and starts slamming into you. You cry out again as he goes harder and faster. He starts getting louder, his rhythm slowing down, and his breathing heavy.He looks up at you, his eyes full of affection, chuckling softly and seemingly at a loss for words yet again.You push yourself back up slowly, feeling a little light-headed. “I love you.”“I love you too.”“Er, can you reach the loo roll? I forgot to pull it out of the drawer.”“Yeah,” he laughs, “I think I can reach.” He starts awkwardly swatting at the drawer knob, swearing under his breath as he stretches for it. He finally gets it open, and pulls out the roll to hand to you.“Thanks.” You tear a bit off and ease yourself off of him, wiping some of the fluid up, trying not to let it drip onto the sheets. He holds your arm steady as you get off the bed, making sure your legs aren’t too shaky to stand. “I’ll be right back,” you tell him before heading to the bathroom to finish cleaning up.Despite him having turned off the lights, you can see a wide grin on his face when you get back to the bedroom. You crawl into bed behind him, wrapping your arm around his chest, littering his back and shoulder with little kisses. “What’d you think?” you finally ask him.He laughs and kisses the back of your hand. “I fucking loved it. I know you were nervous, and you know I don’t really care what you have on, but I think it gave you some sort of conviction. You knew what you wanted and just used me how you liked, and I loved that.”You give him a light squeeze and kiss his back a few more times, but remain quiet, his observation resonating with you. You felt safe and comfortable with him, and tonight, maybe wearing the lingerie had made you feel a little more confident than usual.He turns to face you and gives you a warm kiss. “I love you.”You close your eyes and yawn. “I love you too.”“Are you ready for bed?”“Yeah. Teasing you for hours on end is exhausting.”He laughs and pulls you closer before adjusting the duvet so you’re both properly tucked in. “Good night.”“Good night.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You stir slowly, still wrapped in the warmth of your bed. The comforting weight of Greg’s arm draped over you makes you smile. He’s asleep beside you, his breathing steady and relaxed. You turn slightly, snuggling closer to him, pulling the duvet up over your shoulders. His body radiates warmth against yours. His arm tightens around you, pulling you in even closer.“Mmm,” Greg murmurs. “Morning.”You smile, your face pressed against his chest. “Morning. Did I wake you?”“Not at all,” he replies, eyes still closed.You close your eyes again and kiss his chest, breathing in the mix of his cologne and the faint scent of sweat. “Did you sleep okay? I only felt you get up once.”“Yeah, better than usual.” He laughs, tracing lazy circles on your back. "A miracle, really, considering I rarely sleep well, and sleeping next to you is like sharing a bed with an octopus. Your arms and legs everywhere.”You giggle and snuggle your face closer into his chest, kissing it again. “You love it though.”“I do. I miss you when you’re not there,” he admits, still drawing on your back. “Wouldn't it be nice to do this all the time?”You look up, catching his gaze. “You think we ever will? You know… tell people?”“God, I hope so,” he confesses. “I love our privacy, but I would like to hold your hand in public at some point.”You smile and give him a proper kiss. “Me too,” you whisper, finding his hand and weaving your fingers between his.“Just imagine—your mum would finally stop asking when you're bringing someone to Christmas.”You laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure my parents would love you showing up.”He rolls on to his stomach, eyes closed again. “They seemed to like me when I met them.”“Because they thought you were just a mate,” you laugh again. “I mean, they’d be polite. Ask how you are, invite you to tea… but they’d worry about why I didn’t tell them, and media, and—”“The age gap?”You sigh, moving to lie on top of his back. “You’re just a few years younger than them. They’d come around. It would just take a little time.”Greg chuckles softly. "Better they find out from us rather than from rumours."“Are there rumours about us?”“As far as I know, there aren’t.” He pauses for a second. “How would you want to tell people?”You drag your fingers up and down his upper arm, thinking for a moment. “I think it's got to happen slowly. We’d need to tell our families first. You're right about that. It’d be pretty shit if they found out from anyone except us. My parents and sisters, your mum and sister. A bit later, we’d tell friends. After that, then we can go public—Instagram official. I’ve always liked that selfie you say I ruined because I turned to kiss your cheek at the last second… Then we could go on holiday for a week or so. Turn off our phones and just enjoy each other away from a media storm.”“I actually like that.” He turns his head, a smile spreading across his face as he tries to catch a glimpse of you. “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”“Once or twice,” you admit, smiling.“Once or twice my ass,” he teases, his voice muffled by the pillow.You smile again, enjoying the calming, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing moving you up and down on his back. You give him a gentle kiss just behind his ear.“Oh, don’t you start with that,” he groans softly. “I actually have to leave at some point today.”“I know,” you mumble, rolling off of him ungracefully. “Want coffee before you go?”Greg stretches as he sits up and nods. “Yes, please.”You get up off the bed, only just now realising you’re still in the lingerie from last night. Quickly, you grab your dressing gown from the floor, and pull it on, trying to act casual before heading to the kitchen.You can hear Greg shuffling around in the bedroom, presumably getting dressed. You smile to yourself as you measure out coffee grounds and get the kettle going. He emerges from the bedroom, now dressed in usual clothes—jeans and a black T-shirt. He looks relaxed and content as he wanders into the kitchen, his hair slightly tousled from the night before. He wanders over and wraps his arms around you from behind.You close your eyes and lean your head back, enjoying the warmth of the hug and just how relaxed you feel being with him. The kettle clicks off, pulling you back to reality. Greg gives you a light squeeze before stepping back to make space for you to pour boiling water into your tea cup and into the french press. He kisses the top of your head a few times while waiting for the drinks to steep.When the drinks are ready, you pour his coffee and discard your tea bag, then sit at the tiny dining table with him.“At some point, we should probably do it,” he says before blowing across his coffee and taking a sip. “Start telling people.”While you yawn, a smile starts to form across your face. “You really want to?”“Of course I do.”“Me too.” You take a sip of your tea and smile again.“You’ve got it all worked out. It will hopefully make things a little less shit once we’re not together all the time. We just need to figure out the right time to start it.”You nod, having thought about that previously as well. “Maybe a few weeks after the series finishes airing. I don't think we'll get criticism about you being biassed toward me or thinking I was cast because of you, but it’s probably best to let commentary die down before we say anything publicly.”“Fuck, that’s nearly another year,” he sighs.“I know, but it makes the most sense. It lines up with the end of my tour too. We'll have time to just be together without interruptions.”“What happens when I want to kiss you at the wrap party tonight? After a few drinks, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist.”“We’ll sneak off,” you laugh.“And if someone catches us sneaking off?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.“I’m pretty sure everyone is going to be too busy getting shitfaced to notice if we’ve suddenly disappeared together.”“You’re probably right,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Still… last night I said I wanted to keep you my secret for longer, but it’s so fucking hard.”“I know you are,” you whisper, enjoying his slight chuckle reaction, before turning serious again. “But yes, it is hard! I don’t want to drag it out with our families or friends. We can tell them much sooner, and once they all know, then we can have some normalcy. Like, 90% of the time.”Greg takes another drink of coffee, nodding thoughtfully. “My mum has been asking when I'm going to come see her. We can go whenever, tell her then.” He takes another sip. “She'll love you.”You reach out and give his hand a squeeze. “My parents won’t be as bad as I said they’d be.”“You sure about that,” he asks half joking.“They’ll be happy as long as I’m happy.”He smiles, looking more relaxed. “Alright. My mum first, then your lot.”“I can't wait.” You give his hand another squeeze before letting go and finishing up your tea.“Me either.” He takes another drink of coffee, then glances at his watch. “I should head out soon. I need to swing by my flat and get changed before going to the studio.”You knew this moment was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. You give him a sad smile and get up from the table, giving him a quick kiss before heading to the sink.He finishes his coffee and follows you, resting his chin on top of your head for a moment. "Have you got any plans after I go?”“I need to get some writing done,” you reply, “but I’ll probably go on a run instead. Clear my head a bit before tonight. I’ll text my parents, too, and see if they’ll be around when we both have a day free. I should have enough time to squeeze it all in before I need to leave.”He chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you again. The feeling of his warmth and his heart beating gently above your cheek is bittersweet.After a long pause, Greg finally whispers, “I think it’s time.”You lean into him a little more, not quite ready for him to leave. "I guess it is," you whisper back, your voice barely audible.He reluctantly pulls away, but his hands linger for just a moment longer than necessary. "Are you going to be alright?""Yeah,” you nod with a half smile. “It's just a few hours. I'll be fine.""You'll let me know if you're not?""I promise."He pulls his hoodie on and grabs his keys and wallet from the entry table. "I’ll see you in a bit then.""See you in a bit," you repeat softly, watching him open the door and step into the deserted hallway. “I love you.”“I love you too,” he replies, giving you one last wistful kiss before leaving.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You stand in the doorway for a moment, listening to his footsteps fade down the stairwell. With a sigh, you close the door, resting against it. You look around the flat. It feels empty, cold, and quiet without him.You finally pull yourself away from the door and begin to clean the dishes, trying to distract yourself from the hollow feeling in your stomach. The wine glasses and shot glasses from last night clatter against the mugs from this morning as you rinse them out. You stare at them for a moment before setting them on the draining board, your mind drifting back to his words.
It's so fucking hard.
It wasn’t like either of you had decided not to tell anyone. It had started out by valuing the privacy of the little time you did have together, and then it evolved into accidentally not telling anyone for well over a year. It had been exciting at first, but now it was starting to wear thin. Saying goodbye was getting harder, especially knowing that the consistency of seeing each other while filming was about to end.You dry your hands and wander back to your bedroom, looking at your unmade bed. You crawl back into it, lying where he’d been, burying your face into his pillow.
God, I hope so.
You can picture it now: walking to the cafe around the corner from his flat, hand in hand. Kissing him without caring who sees. Actually going out for dinner rather than getting take-away, or picking something up and bringing it on the way to each other’s flats. Maybe not having ‘each other’s flats’...Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You grab it, half expecting a text from Greg, but it’s just an email from your agent, a reminder about the upcoming shows for this weekend. You sigh and toss the phone back onto the bed.Maybe going for that run would be a good idea. Clear your head, just like you’d told him.You get up and find some of your running clothes. Your phone buzzes again as you lace up your trainers. This time, it is Greg.
Just got home. Miss you. Can’t wait to see you later. x
You smile down at the screen, quickly typing your response.
Miss you too. I’m about to run. x
While you look for your earbuds on the entry table, your phone buzzes again.
Have fun. Let me know when you’re back. x
You smile again as you slip your phone into your pocket. You find your earbuds under an internet statement and push them into your ears, locking the door behind you as you leave.The cool air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, letting it wake you up better than the tea ever could’ve hoped. After last night and this morning, it's impossible not to think of him. How his arms feel around you, the sound of his laugh, how he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.You pick up your pace as you turn into a nearby park, now back to your usual mouthing along to the music, enjoying being outside in fresh air. This is what you meant when you said you needed to clear your head, but after a few minutes, your mind starts to wander again.You’re not naive. As soon as you make your public announcement, shit will hit the fan. Greg is rarely in the tabloids and you're not even worth a blip on their radar, but this will be a catalyst. They’ll question if you slept your way onto the show, dissect every interaction, and every article will highlight the two-decade age difference. The internet will insist that there must be some sort of abusive power imbalance, confusing the character of Taskmaster Greg with normal Greg. You know he worries about that too, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.That’s why the unplugged holiday made sense. Let your agents and PR teams deal with it while you get to enjoy yourselves. The public will get bored once they realise there’s nothing scandalous, right?
They'll be happy as long as I'm happy.
You’d never even introduced a partner to your parents. Mentioned them, yes, but never introduced. And now you were about to do both at the same time. Even with them, you preferred keeping that aspect of your life fairly private. There wasn't any particular reason for it other than your own apprehension. You knew what you’d told Greg was true—they'd be thrilled for you guys; however, your anxiety screamed otherwise.You will yourself to go faster as if you're trying to outrun your thoughts.Your foot slides from under you, and you skid across the ground. The music stops immediately as your earbuds are pulled out.“Ow! Fuck!”You sit there for a second, shocked, catching your breath amidst the searing pain. It’s certainly one way to pull yourself from the intrusive thoughts.You look down at your hands and legs, stinging from blood mixing with sweat, then look around and pop your earbuds back in, relieved no one was around to see you fall. You glance at your watch. Just under five kilometres wasn't bad. At least it didn't happen in the first five minutes. You get up slowly, testing your weight. You’ll be able to walk home, albeit with a limp.—Once home, you go to the kitchen, get a glass of water, and sit at the dining table. You pull out your phone.
I’m back. x
Your phone vibrates almost immediately.
Feeling better? x
You half laugh.
Lol. Nope. I completely wiped out. I'm a little sore and a bit scraped up, but I'll be fine after I shower. x
Your phone starts ringing, Greg's face on the screen.“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, a hint of panic in his voice.“I tripped. I’m okay—like I said, just a bit scraped up.”“Where?”“My palms, on one arm, both knees, and one of my shins. I can feel a little stinging on the side of my chin, but I don't think it's bleeding.”“Jesus Christ…”“I’m fine!”“Is there anything I can do?”“Actually—” you head into the bathroom and look through your first aid supplies. “Yeah, I'm out of plasters. Do you think you could sneak me some at the studio?”“Yeah, I can do.”“Thank you. I'm going to shower and I'll be heading out after. I’ll see you really soon. I love you.”“I love you too.”“Bye.”“Bye.”You sit down on the seat of the toilet, looking at your phone again.
I know I’ll see you guys this weekend, but I was thinking of coming home next week sometime. Will you guys be around? x
You set it down and start the water for the shower. You hear your phone buzz again.
Yes! Just dad and I. Is next Thursday good? Can't wait to see you! xxx
You smile to yourself and get ready to shower.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As you walk down the corridor towards your dressing room, you see Alex.“Er, you okay? It doesn’t seem like you're walking normally,” he observes, his eyes focusing on your slight limp.“Oh, yeah. Fell on a run,” you say, waving it off. “Er, you don’t have to tell me, but do you think it will hinder either live task tonight?”“Probably not.” He keeps staring for a little longer. “Do you need to be checked out by anyone?”“No, I’m fine. Really. Thanks, though.”He gives you an awkward smile and continues down the hall in the opposite direction.You walk into your dressing room and stop short, not expecting to see Greg already there. He’s leaning against the vanity, a box of plasters in one hand and a tube of Savlon in the other. His brow furrows as he looks you up and down, clearly concerned.“Sit down,” he says softly but still with some command. “Let me take a look.”You take a seat on the chair in front of the vanity, carefully rolling up your jeans, trying not to wince as you do.He first looks at the scrape on your chin and dabs a little of the Savlon cream on it. Then he kneels down and removes one of the slightly stuck, makeshift loo roll bandages from your leg. His expression hardens as he sees your raw, slightly oozing skin.“Christ,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes not leaving the mess that has become your legs. “This isn’t just ‘a bit scraped up.’”“It looks worse than it feels,” you try to downplay it, but his frown tells you he’s not buying it.“These aren’t going to work.” He tosses the box on to the couch beside him with a frustrated sigh. “Right, I’m getting medics in here.”“It’s not that bad!” you protest.“It’s worse than you’re letting on.” He pulls out his phone, presumably texting Alex to send someone.You let out a soft sigh and rub your upper arm, suddenly feeling much smaller than usual under his intense gaze. You glare at the floor, frustration bubbling up from within.“Are you seriously having a strop because I give a shit about you?”“No…”He tilts his head, that familiar ex-teacher stare daring you to continue.“I love that you faff over me. God knows, I need someone to,” you admit, glancing up at him. “I just… I’m annoyed. It's not your fault… maybe a little bit, but not really? I didn't want to come in here and have it become a big thing like it has. I just wanted some plasters and to tell you that I have a date for you to meet my parents.”His expression softens, a grin starting across his face. “You do? When?”“Not this Thursday, but the next.”His face lights up completely. “We should probably go see my mum in the next few days then?”You laugh, the frustration now dissipating. “Yeah, we should. I can’t wait!”“Neither can I.” He leans down to give you a quick kiss on the forehead, then looks back down at his phone. “Alex says someone is on their way. Do you want me to stay?”“Please?” you ask quietly, finally allowing yourself to be a little more vulnerable. You lean your head against him, his hand stroking your hair.Despite what you’d told him, it did hurt quite badly. There was no way the plasters would have ever stuck to what little skin you still had on your hands and legs, especially with the amount of draining.There’s a quiet knock at the door. Greg takes a step away and sits on the sofa, attempting to look casual.“Come in,” you call out.“Hello.” A man in his late thirties comes in, smiling politely. “Heard you had a fall earlier. Mind if I take a look?”“Er, yeah.” You turn your hands over showing him your palms and arm. The medic inspects them before turning his attention to your legs.“She also has a little on her chin,” Greg chimes in, his voice a little strained. He’s doing a terrible job at trying to play it cool.The medic gently turns your face upwards so he can get a better look at it. “Gravel rash. There's a little bit of lingering debris on both your legs. How’d you end up falling?” he asks, his tone friendly but professional.“I went for a run,” you explain, wincing as he starts cleaning the wound on your face. “Tripped. Nothing dramatic—ow!”The medic chuckles softly as starts putting a bandage on. “This might be noticeable on camera, but makeup should be able to cover most of it. It’s a watertight seal, so there won’t be issues taking makeup off after.”He starts working on your legs, making sure he gets the tiny bits of rock and toilet roll out while cleaning them up. You look away from it, your stomach starting to churn just a little, and toward Greg. You can tell it's taking every ounce of self restraint not to jump up and comfort you.After a few minutes, the medic finishes wrapping up the last bandage on your arm. “All set. Just keep an eye on it. If you don’t see any improvement in two weeks, see your GP.”“Will do. Thank you.”“Cheers! Have a good afternoon.”Once he leaves, Greg is immediately back by your side, wrapping his arms around you. “Better now?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair.You shrug. "I was kind of hoping for a cookie and a sticker."“Think you can settle for a kiss?” he chuckles, pulling you closer.“I guess that will have to do,” you laugh softly, your lips meeting his.The door opens again, and Greg quickly takes a step away, trying to look casual yet again, albeit annoyed.Alex pokes his head in, his gaze shifting between you two, once again choosing to ignore the subtext of whatever he's walked in on. “All sorted?”“Yeah,” Greg confirms, his voice a little higher than usual. “Thanks for sending him.”“Happy to hear it.” He smiles stiffly and closes the door behind him.“We should tell him after we're done with our families. Put him out of his misery,” you say, leaning your head against Greg as he comes back over.“I suppose so,” he laughs softly, back to stroking your hair. “You need to start getting ready. I'll see you out there.”You get off the chair and reach up, giving him one last quick kiss. “See you in a bit.”“Love you.” He grins at you before disappearing into the hallway.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The music is loud, the bass thumping through your chest as you step into the party. The room is dimly lit with lights strung overhead, giving the space an almost magical glow. You catch sight of familiar faces from the cast and crew members laughing together.“You're finally here!” one of your castmates shouts over the music as they run up to you. “We’ve been waiting for you so we can do shots!”You laugh and follow them, ignoring your slight limp, to the bar. Your other three castmates are there already and excitedly cheer as you two join them. A plastic shot glass is thrust into your hand, and before you know it, someone is shouting, “TO THE BEST FUCKING SERIES TASKMASTER HAS EVER HAD!”The room erupts with cheers and you throw back the shot. You cough, not entirely sure what it was but knowing it would have been better if it had been colder. Someone hands you another and starts a countdown. It’s smoother going down, but still burns in your throat.Your friend giggles and shoves another drink into your hand—a less intimidating cocktail this time. You take a sip, feeling the alcohol start to course through you. The music seems louder and the lights more vibrant. The pain from your earlier fall is starting to numb. You drift through the party, your castmates pulling you into various drinking games and conversations.Amid the haze of alcohol and laughter, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You discreetly check the message.
Meet you in the hall in 10? x
Your heart skips a beat. You glance around the room casually trying to find where Greg is at. Finally, you catch his eye and give him a smile, letting him know your answer.After a few minutes of drunken conversation, you stand up from the congregation of castmates and crew, everyone too tipsy and enthralled in their own conversations to notice you slinking away.Greg is already in the hall waiting next to the door. He towers over you, his eyes flickering with that familiar mix of affection and desire.Before you can say anything, his lips are on yours. It’s messy and desperate, fueled by the alcohol and the thrill of being in semi-public. His hands find your waist, his body pressing yours against the wall in the dim light.You break apart just enough to catch your breath. You’re both breathing heavily, your heart pounding in your chest.“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” you murmur, your hands tighten on his jacket, not wanting to let go.Greg chuckles, his voice low and rough. “I know.”You pull him back toward you, his lips pressing against yours again. His hand slips under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine, and you moan softly as it moves higher, the alcohol and his touch making everything feel more intense.“We should—” you gasp, trying to form a coherent thought as he kisses down your neck. “We should really find somewhere more private.”He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against you. “Good idea.”You giggle, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hallway. You find a door at the end of the hall and push it open, heading into the cool air outside. He points out an alleyway between two nearby buildings and leads you toward it.Once tucked away from the view of anyone who might decide to step outside, you both dissolve into laughter. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you close, and the laughter fades.He kisses you deeply, his hands roaming your body as you press against him. You lose yourself in him, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body. It’s just you and Greg, and the overwhelming need to be close to him.He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breathing heavy again. “We should probably get back before someone notices,” he says, though there’s no urgency in his voice.“Do we have to?” you murmur.He chuckles softly. “Yeah. I expect to see you at my flat tonight, though.”You grin, biting your lip. “You expect that?”“Someone needs to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble tomorrow, limping around with a hangover.”You laugh softly, your head resting on his chest, trying to make this tryst last a little bit longer.He presses one last, lingering kiss to your lips before stepping back, his hand finding yours as you both start to walk back toward the party. The walk is slow, your fingers intertwined, and even though you know you’ll have to let go before you go back inside, for now, you hold on tightly.“I’ll see you inside,” he says, his voice soft and warm, his hand brushing yours one last time before he slips back inside.You wait a moment before following, your heart still racing, and your lips tingling from his kisses.The party is still in full swing when you rejoin. Everyone is too drunk and distracted to notice your absence—except one.“There you are!” one of your castmates shouts, running over to you. “I was wondering where you disappeared to!”“Oh, I, erm, I was getting a bit warm. I popped outside for a bit to cool off.”“I was looking for you for like, twenty minutes!”You wince internally, knowing full well it was closer to that. “I don’t think I was gone that long,” you say, feigning ignorance.“Maybe it just felt like it,” they laugh, waving it off. “Come on!” They grab your hand and drag you back to the group.You find yourself being handed another drink, which you accept gratefully. Another one of your castmates wobbles over, their eyes unfocused and hazy from the night’s drinking.They grab your face with both hands, tilting it up, peering closely at you. “Fuck! What happened to you?” they shout over the music.You laugh, playing it off. “I told you earlier. I fell and scraped it. The medic said it would be fine.”“No, not that! It’s like a bruise or—or something.” They squint, trying with all their might to focus. “It’s nowhere near—near that plaster. It's more like on your—your neck.”Panic flares in your chest, realising what they’re seeing: a hickey. You quickly pull away from their grip and take a sip of your drink to hide your nerves, doing your best to keep your voice calm. “Oh, yeah. I think that was there earlier.”Your castmate, too drunk to care if it was or not, finishes off their drink. “It looks like—like it fucking hurts!”You shrug, desperate to move the focus off of it. “Yeah, a bit, I guess.”They blink, clearly trying to process your words through the fog of alcohol, and eventually, they just laugh along with you, too tipsy to question it any further.You let out a small sigh of relief as they turn away to grab another drink. You touch your neck briefly, feeling the slight sting of the hickey Greg left behind.The bass pounds through the floor as more people flood the dance floor, drinks in hand, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders.You take a sip of your drink and look around the room. You see Greg chatting with Cartwright and a few of the sound guys, his face a bit more rosy than usual. Your heart flutters as you think back to the hallway, his hands on you, the way he pressed you against the wall—your cheeks flush remembering it.Suddenly, a hand waves in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze. It’s another castmate, this one a little less drunk but still grinning widely. “Are you even listening to me? Come dance with us!”Before you can protest, they grab your hand, pulling you towards the dance floor. You stumble a little, the sudden jolt causes you to wince in pain just a bit, but you manage to regain your balance and the pain dissipates. The music surrounds you, and you let yourself get lost in the crowd, moving to the beat. The lights flash in time with the rhythm. The night becomes a blur of sound, movement, and laughter.—Eventually, the party starts winding down. People begin to filter out, some stumbling toward the exit, while others collapse into chairs, too tired or drunk to move. You excuse yourself from the dwindling crowd, slipping away once more.Your phone buzzes in your pocket again.
I'm waiting for you. x
As you step out into the cool night air, you take a deep breath, the chill sobering you slightly. The streets are quieter now, but you’re still able to flag down a cab. You pull out your phone and send him a message.
On my way. x
By the time you reach Greg’s flat, your heart is beating out of your chest. The ride up the lift seems to take longer than usual. Before you can knock on the door, it swings open and he pulls you inside. Immediately, his lips are on yours again, his hands on the small of your back.This one is slow, tender, very different from earlier at the party. His breath smells of liquor and toothpaste, but you don't mind at all. You deepen the kiss, your hand reaching around the back of his neck to pull him closer.He pulls away just slightly, chuckling, eyes still closed, and his nose gently rubbing against yours. “I got a pizza on the way back. Do you want some?” he asks, his voice just a little hoarse.You open your eyes and laugh, giving him another quick peck. “Fuck yeah. I’m starving.”You sit down on the couch and he brings over two plates of pizza, then sits next to you. You both eat in comfortable silence, both too hungry and too tired to talk much. As you finish, you set your plate aside, feeling pleasantly full, then cuddle up next to him.He sets his plate on top of yours and places his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready for bed?”You sit back up, stretch, and nod. He helps you up off the couch and you follow him to the bedroom, knowing the second your head hits the pillow, you’ll be out cold.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You're aware you're awake but keep your eyes closed, hoping that just maybe you'll fall back asleep. Once you realise it's not going to happen, you roll on your side reaching your arm to rest around Greg.Your arm lands on an empty bed.Frowning, you blink your eyes open. “Greg?”Silence.You sit up slowly. “Hello? Greg?”Still no answer. You look over at the nightstand, about to grab your phone, when you see a folded up note beside it. You reach for it, unfolding the paper to read his familiar, hurried handwriting.
Popped out to get a few things. I'll be back shortly.
xxx
You smile to yourself and fold the note back up, placing it back on the nightstand. You pull yourself up off the bed and wander into the living room, sore from yesterday. You settle onto the couch and pull a blanket over your legs, enjoying looking out at the sun over the city from his flat.Then it hits—a familiar, dull thud in your head. The result of overindulgence and peer pressure. You close your eyes and press a hand to your forehead. It’s not unbearable, but it’s there.You glance up toward the door as it opens. Greg comes through looking a little surprised you're out of bed.“Morning.” He smiles and heads towards the kitchen, setting the shopping down on the counter.“Morning.” You smile back and pull your legs up on the couch, effectively turning your body into a ball.“I wanted to make you breakfast and—”“All out of sausages?” you giggle.“Actually, yes,” he laughs and starts to unload the bags. “I decided to get us some takeaway instead. Full fry-up sound good to you?”“Yeah, should help get rid of this mini-hangover.”He rummages through another bag, then throws a small red box toward you.“It’s not that bad,” you say, catching it.“Hold on.” He grins smugly, looking as if he’s about to win an argument. “I remember having this same conversation yesterday.”“It’s different!”“It’s not fucking different!” he snorts, bringing over your breakfast and a cup of tea. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, did you know that? You didn’t think you needed help yesterday. You don’t think you need help now.”You roll your eyes while his back is turned, then pop two out and swallow them with some tea.“Don’t think I didn’t see that.” He comes back with his own breakfast, giving you a kiss on the forehead before sitting down.You chuckle and shove a fork-full of beans into your mouth.“So I was, er, I was thinking we could go see my mum tomorrow.”“Really?” you reply, your mouth full, then quickly swallow. “Yeah… wow. Have you said anything to her yet?”“Erm, not yet.” He grins and takes a bite of toast. “I wanted to make sure you were good with it first. But I'll text her later. She's usually around.”“Yeah… ” You stare at your plate for a second. “Is she going to be like ‘who the fuck is this?’”“No! I'll tell her I'm bringing someone,” he laughs before starting on a sausage. “She’ll absolutely adore you.”“You really think so?” you ask nervously, taking another sip of tea.“She will repeatedly tell me how you're too good for me and that she likes you more.”You laugh, his reassurance makes you feel a little better. “Every story I’ve heard about your mum, you're torturing her. Of course she's going to like me more!”“The old woman does it to herself!”“She deserves something for putting up with you.” You smirk, taking a bite of toast.“I’m a delightful son! Her favourite son!”“Her only son,” you laugh.Before Greg can respond, your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You pick it up to look. “Shit…”“What?” he asks, leaning closer.You hand him your phone, showing a text from Ed Gamble.
I was told by multiple people last night that if I didn’t have you on for episode 8, I’d be a failure of a podcast host. Curious to see what everyone means by that. Hope you're available 8-9 months from now :)
“Are you going to do it?” he chuckles, handing your phone back and starting on a second sausage.“I don't know.” You sigh loudly, rubbing your face, thinking.Obviously, this was about gifting Greg lingerie. Part of you thought it would be better to talk about it on your terms. You and Greg wouldn't even be public at that point; you could say anything about it. But you also weren't sure you wanted to talk about it at all. Despite it being filmed, and knowing it was going to be broadcast to millions of people, it still felt private. You were going to end up on the podcast at some point and doing an early episode would mean you wouldn't have to address it. If you were ever a guest after your relationship became public, you wouldn't have to talk about it either.“You should. I did it a couple times. It was fun.”“Then you could do it again,” you suggest, only half joking.He laughs again and gives your leg a squeeze. “Absolutely not.”You give him a pout and send Ed a quick text back.
Hey! It’s been a crazy couple weeks and my schedule is about to get crazier. Let me think about it. You’ll definitely know before 8-9 months from now lol.
He grins at you. “You’re going to end up doing it.”“You saying that just makes me want to do it less.”After finishing breakfast, you curl back up and lean onto him. He wraps an arm around you and gives you another forehead kiss.“Are you doing alright?” he asks sincerely.You give a quick nod. “Yeah, a bit more sore than I thought I'd be, but I suppose that will actually help,” you say, gesturing vaguely toward the Panadol box.His brow furrows. “Do you mind if I take a look? See if they need anything.”“Go ahead,” you say quietly, shifting to allow him to get up.He switches from the couch to the edge of the coffee table and lifts one of your legs into his lap. He rolls up the leg of your pyjama pants and carefully removes one of the bandages.“Still bad?” you ask, watching his grimace.“Looks pretty much the same as yesterday, but there is more bruising. It’s quite… oozy.” His voice trails off in clear discomfort.“It’s normal.”He looks up at you quite concerned. “Is it?”“Yes,” you laugh softly, trying to reassure him. “This isn't my first fall running.”His lips purse. “I'm not really sure if that makes me feel better.”“In over ten years and thousands of miles, I've only fallen four times. This one just happened to be a little worse than others.”He’s quiet for a moment, then reaches for your hand, careful not to disturb the scrapes. His thumb brushes over the back of it. “Alright, let’s get this cleaned up again.” He goes back to the kitchen, returning with some antiseptic and fresh bandages from his shopping earlier.You sit patiently, looking away, as he cleans it and bandages it back up. When he finishes, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”He smiles, though there is still concern in his eyes. “Mum is going to fuss all over you tomorrow if she knows about any of this. The slightest hint of a limp or wince and she’ll have you on the sofa wrapped in a blanket.”“I can’t wait to meet her.”“Just don’t gang up against me,” he mock warns.“No promises.”He shifts, rubbing a finger gently across your neck. “Christ, is that from yesterday too?”“Huh?” You touch your neck, just where his fingers had been, confused.“You’ve got a bruise there.”“Oh my god! I had forgotten about that! That's from last night,” you laugh.It takes him a moment to realise what you're talking about. “Oh, fuck!” he laughs. “I'm sorry about that.”You pull on his hand, getting him to come back to the couch. “I’ll owe you one.”“Oh no,” he groans playfully. “You’ll end up leaving one right before I have some sort of interview. Just my mum is going to see that, if she even notices.”“I have shows this weekend,” you say, giving him a teasing nudge.“No one in the audience is going to be able to see that.” He pulls you in, wrapping his arm around you again. “I wish I could go… First show of your first tour. Are you parents going?”“Yeah, just the first night.” You nestle against him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body, and let out a small sigh. “I wish you could come too, but I know you’re busy.”“You’re going to be brilliant.”You fall into silence, the weight of the upcoming days settling on you. You have just today and tomorrow with him, then you'll be gone for a few days. It shouldn't feel like a big deal, but somehow, it does. You replay the conversation from the other night in your head.“We’ll be fine,” you whisper, almost to yourself.“We’ll be fine,” he repeats softly, stroking your hair as he holds you close.
Fine.
Being away from each other on-and-off for the next nine months wasn't going to be easy. It wasn't always going to be good or great; sometimes the best you could hope for was the steadiness of fine.The anxiety starts to fade, your new found mantra providing some sort of grounding. The sun casts a bright glow through the windows, lighting up the flat you’ve started to consider a second home.Greg sighs. “I should probably let her know sooner than later.” He pulls out his phone, you reading the message as he types.
I'll be over tomorrow around noon. I'm bringing someone. x
“It's done,” he says, locking his phone and tossing it to the side.“We're really going to do this.” You weave fingers between his and give his hand a light squeeze.He looks down at you, his smile calm and reassuring. “We are. It's exciting, isn't it?”“It is,” you say softly, lifting his hand to give it a kiss.The two of you sit there, wrapped in each other, enjoying the quiet peace of your last day in complete secrecy.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Greg opens the door of his mum's house, gesturing for you to step inside. “Mum? Are you here?” he calls out, stepping in behind you and shutting the door.Somewhere toward the back of the house, you hear her voice, a mix of warmth and urgency. “Oh good, you're finally here! I have so many things I need help with around the garden. Thank goodness you brought someone with you.” She appears in the front hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lights up when she sees Greg, and then her gaze shifts to you.“Mum—” Greg begins, but she’s already walking toward you.“I don't know how he roped you into helping with this mess—”“Mum, she's my girlfriend.”She stops immediately, her eyes widening in surprise. “Your girlfriend?” she echoes, the surprise quickly turning to a warm smile. “You could’ve given me some warning, Gregory!”He rolls his eyes, a smile starting to creep on his face.You step forward, smiling nervously. “It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Davies,” you say, extending your hand.“Pauline, dear. Just Pauline,” she corrects, taking your hand warmly. Her eyes dart to the bandages wrapped around it, and her expression turns to concern. “Oh, what happened to you?”“I tripped the other day.” You look down at your hand with a sheepish smile. “I’m fine. He made sure I got patched up afterwards.”Pauline clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You hardly look fine. I can't have you working out in the garden in that condition! I'll get you a cuppa and we can have a chat while he's outside.”“I'm not chopping wood today, old woman,” he protests, but there’s no bite in his tone.Pauline waves him off, grinning. “Then you make the tea, and I'll get her sorted on the settee.”Greg huffs, shaking his head in mock defeat, and disappears into the kitchen. You laugh to yourself, enjoying their playful banter. You were doubtful that the similar dynamic you had with your parents would showcase next week when you told them, but still had some hope.You look around the cosy living room as you settle onto the well-worn sofa. The walls are lined with family photos in mismatched frames.Pauline sits on a plush chair across from you, leaning forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief as you’ve often seen in Greg’s. “It’s been a year and a bit, hasn't it?”You blink, a bit surprised by her observation. “Yeah, it has… How did you know?”She smiles. “When he phones, he tends to share what’s bothering him. In the last year or so, he hasn’t. He’s been happier. Calmer.” Her smile softens, and she lets out a quiet sigh. “That’s all I want for him.”Your chest tightens, and you look down at your lap, feeling both touched and a little overwhelmed by her words.She notices and tilts her head slightly. “Are you alright, dear?”You look back up at her, offering a small nod. “It’s… erm, it's nice to finally tell someone.”Before she can respond, Greg reappears balancing three mugs of tea. “It’s too quiet in here. I can feel you two plotting,” he remarks, eyebrows raised. He sets the mugs down on the coffee table before sinking down next to you, his arm draped over your shoulder.“We’re just talking about how you hid her from me for too long,” Pauline laughs, a teasing glint in her eye.Greg chuckles, giving you a gentle squeeze. “I wasn’t hiding her. We were just waiting for the right moment.”You sip your tea, feeling a weight off your chest, as they catch-up, and answering Pauline’s questions about yourself. The more you talk, the more at ease you feel. The more ready you feel to start telling everyone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
One week later
“Hello, love!” your mum calls out warmly, stepping out the front door. Despite the light rain, her arms are outstretched, ready for a hug. You dad follows close behind, both of them beaming with excitement to see you.“Hi Mum! Dad!” You wrap your arms around your mum.“How are your scrapes?” she asks, pulling back just a little.“Much better,” you say with a grin. “Just itching now.”“Good! That means they're healing.” She says with a satisfied nod before stepping aside so your dad can give you a hug.When your dad pulls away, your mum pats your cheek, eyes sparkling. “I know I keep saying it, but you’ve been absolutely glowing these days!”“Thanks mum! I—” You pause as both their gazes drift past you, landing on Greg, who is making his way over from the car.“Oh, I didn't know Greg was coming. Lovely to see you again,” she calls to him, smiling politely and giving him a small wave before lowering her voice. “Sorry, why's he here?”You feel pterodactyls return to your stomach. “Er, yeah. About that… Please don't freak out!” You take a deep breath, your words catching in your throat. “Greg is, er… he’s…”“Are you two together?” she cuts in, her eyes flicking between the two of you.Greg steps beside you, his hand slipping into yours. The warmth of his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand reassuringly. “Yes,” you confirm softly.Your mum’s expression falters for a brief second, but she quickly recovers. “Erm, right. Why don't we go inside? Get out of the rain.”You all move inside, your mum leading the way. She heads straight to the kitchen to make tea. Your dad follows her in as you and Greg go to the living room and sit down on the sofa. He squeezes your hand again, offering silent comfort. The wait feels agonising as you listen to the clinking of cups and the murmur of your parents’ voices.Finally, they join you, your mum setting two cups of tea on the coffee table, then settling into her usual chair. You dad hands her a cup before sitting in his spot, his eyes focused on your intertwined hands.“Sorry,” your mum begins, her voice steady again. “You might have mentioned it when we met previously, but how did you two meet?”You glance up at Greg, who gives you an encouraging nod. “We met at a party, about a year and a half ago. I didn’t really want to be there. He could tell and invited me to a pub, and… we hit it off.”Your mum’s eyebrow raises slightly. "You've been together for that long and didn't tell us?""To be fair, we didn't tell anyone,” you say gently. “We only told Greg's mum last week. We just…" You look down at your hand in Greg's and smile a little. "We were enjoying the privacy.”Your mum’s gaze softens, but there’s still a flicker of hurt. “I can understand keeping things private, but for that long? I mean, you could’ve told us when we met last year!”“I know,” you say firmly. “But I’m not going to apologise for it. We're adults. We're not asking for permission.” Greg gives your hand another gentle squeeze and you take a deep breath. “I really didn’t think it was going to take this long to tell you guys. It's not like I didn't want to. We’ve been so busy, and we just didn't see each other a whole lot. We needed to focus on ourselves and make sure we were absolutely ready before we started telling people.”Your dad, who has been quiet and stoic until now, finally breaks his gaze away from your and Greg’s hands. “Are you happy?” he asks, his voice gentle, but serious.You smile and nod. “I’ve never been happier.”Your mum’s face softens completely now, her eyes glistening. She gets up and comes over to give you a tight hug. “Oh, love! I should’ve known something was up! Like I said—you’re glowing!”You quickly wipe an anxious tear away and wrap your arms around her, feeling a surge of relief. “Thanks, Mum.”She lets go, returning to her chair, and your dad rises to give you a hug as well. Afterward, he turns to Greg, offering his hand. “Good to see you again, Greg.”Greg stands and shakes his hand, smiling. “Good to see you too.”Once everyone’s reseated, your mum takes a sip of her tea before asking, “So, what changed?”“We’ve had a lot more time together recently. Filming for Taskmaster kept us in the same place for a couple weeks.”“And with her away touring we decided we didn't want the time we did get together to be spent hiding,” Greg adds before taking a sip of his tea.Your mum chuckles, leaning back in her chair. “Now that it’s all in the open, I hope we’ll be seeing a bit more of you? It’s too bad not everyone is here, but we’ll have to have you over properly once our other girls are around.”Greg grins. “I’d like that.”“And now, what's next?” your mum asks, her voice now more curious.“Now that you guys and Greg’s family know, we’ll start telling some of our friends,” you explain. “We’re not planning on going public until after the series airs, though.”“Which will be when?” your dad asks.“Probably another eight or nine months,” you reply.Your dad leans forward, a concerned look on his face. “That’s quite a while from now. What about after that?” he asks. “Someone is going to want an interview at some point. I get the sense neither of you want to do that.”“We'll get a lot of requests,” Greg admits. “We’ll have to get our agents and PR teams involved and have them put out a blanket statement saying we're not going to talk about our relationship.”“Will that work?” your dad presses.“If you decide that you’re not going to discuss your private life, then it’s really easy to just leave it at that.” He sighs heavily. “But people will say things that aren't true, and even if it bothers us, we can't address it. That’s where it gets difficult.”“But, you know how it is,” you jump in, trying to curb some of their worries. “Nothing is really in the news for more than a few days anymore. We’re planning on going somewhere when we officially announce. Phones off. No computers. Just wait for the noise to quiet down and spend some time together.”“Have you thought about where you might go?” your mum asks, her face brightening at the mention of a holiday.You shake your head. “Not yet, but we have plenty of time to decide.”“The first holiday your mum and I took together was up to the Lake District,” your dad suggests.You look up at Greg. “That's not a bad idea. It would be nice and quiet.”Greg nods, smiling. “Definitely worth considering.”Your mum’s eyes sparkle. “It’s beautiful up there! I hope you go! No faffing about with airports, either.”You laugh, the warmth of their approval finally setting in as you snuggle a little closer to Greg, feeling more at ease.A moment later, your mum leans forward, eyes on the empty mugs. “Greg, are you done with your tea?”“Yes, thank you,” he says, setting his mug on the table.Your mum looks at you expectantly. “Love, can you help me with the washing up?”“Yeah.” You gather the mugs and follow her to the kitchen. You know she wants a quick, private chat.She keeps her voice low as she fills the sink with water. “I know you're happy and that's the most important thing.”“But?” you ask, sensing the hesitation.“But… he’s the same age as your dad and me. Does that worry you at all?”“It did at first, and if I was, like, seven years younger it would be weird,” you admit. “But, after the second or third date, I didn’t even think about it anymore. It’s such a non-factor for us.”“I had to ask,” she says gently, handing you a mug to dry. “I wouldn't feel right if I didn’t.”“I know, Mum. I appreciate it.”She hands you another mug and smiles. “It’s clear how much he cares for you. I'm surprised you kept it a secret this long. I'm surprised I didn't notice it last time we met him.”“It's one of the hardest things I've ever done. People know we're friends, but that means we’ve had to be careful. We’re constantly censoring ourselves.”Your mum nods, seeming to understand just how difficult it has been. "We're always here for you, and Greg too. Just no more year-long secrets, okay?”You laugh quietly, trying not to draw attention from your dad and Greg. “Will do.”“Should we get back to them?”“Yeah, don't want them to get too suspicious.”Back in the living room, your dad and Greg are in hysterics over something. Greg catches your eye and beams. You slip back onto the sofa next to him, nestling under his arm, the tension from earlier having finally melted away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two weeks later
The pub feels oddly quiet for this time of night, but it's ideal. You and Greg arrive first, grabbing a corner table with a good view of the entrance. He heads to the bar while you take a seat, tapping your fingers on the wood of the table, fidgeting with a mix of excitement and nerves. Greg returns with three pints, setting them on the table. Under the table, he rests his hand on your thigh and gives it a light squeeze—his way of telling you to relax.“Are you ready to do this?” he murmurs.The warmth of his touch steadies you and you nod.The pub door swings open, and in walks Alex, scanning the room before spotting you both. His face breaks into a smile and he raises a hand. Greg waves him over with a casual grin, and within moments, Alex is sliding into the seat across from you."It's good to see you both," he says, smiling, then taking a drink from his pint. There’s a different aura about him outside the Taskmaster set. He’s more relaxed, less awkward."Yeah, you too," you say, lifting the pint to your lips."Rachel and the boys alright?" Greg asks, making polite small talk."Rachel's great. Half term is coming up so the boys are pretty excited. We’ll go camping for few a days.” He takes another sip from his beer and looks at you. “I’ve heard you’re getting great reviews for your show. I’m trying to figure out when I can actually come see it.”Your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Oh, thank you! Er, just let me know when and I’ll sort the tickets. It’s not like I’m sold out or anything,” you laugh, trying to brush off the praise.Alex directs his attention back to Greg. "Have you gone yet? I know you two have gotten to be pretty good... friends."“I have,” he chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. “How long have you known?”Alex's eyes widen, looking around for potential eavesdroppers before lowering his voice. “Oh, erm… maybe a month? I had suspicions when you were always in her dressing room after wrapping for the day. And there were the few times I walked in and it very much felt like you two had just been doing something you didn’t want to get caught doing. The Ann Summers thing really confirmed it, though. She did a good job trying to sell it like it wasn’t actually for you, but you seemed a little too eager to get it back to her that night.”“Fuck,” Greg laughs. “The Andys were there when I was trying to convince you to let me take the bag back to her. They know too, don’t they?”Alex nods, taking another swig from his pint. "Devonshire thought you guys were going to say something at the wrap party.”Greg rubs his face, thinking. “I'll find some time to let them know. We still want to keep it pretty quiet.”“Not doing a big announcement?”“Not any time soon. We don't want to overshadow anything,” you say, shifting slightly in your seat. “We’ll make a statement a little after the series finishes. We’d like to keep it low-key after as well.”Alex nods again, seeming to understand. “How long has this been going on, then?”“About 18 months,” Greg answers, glancing at you with a soft smile.“Really? Wow! I would’ve guessed maybe six. Who else knows?"“You’re the first outside of our families.”Alex grins, clearly pleased but trying to play it cool. “Well, I’m honoured. Not sure why I’m ahead of anyone in the order, but I’ll take it.”You laugh, shooting him a teasing smile “Well, you had already walked in on us—what, twice?”“Three times, actually,” Alex corrects, “but yes, it was… a bit obvious.”Greg snorts, reaching for his pint. “You’re lucky you didn’t see more.”Alex almost spits his drink out, his face turning red as he coughs into his sleeve. “More? What do you mean, more?”Greg smirks, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Dodged a bullet, mate. Trust me.”“Wait! Alex, when was the third time?” you ask, trying to think back to when it could’ve been.“There was one point, erm… at the wrap party,” Alex starts, the awkwardness starting to come back through. “I was about to go outside, but you guys were giggling and heading that way, so I just left it. Seemed safer.”Eager to change the subject, Alex stands up and says, “Next round’s on me.”As he heads to the bar, you turn to Greg, leaning in close. “I can’t believe there was a third time.”Greg shrugs with a chuckle. “We knew we were pushing our luck. I’m glad it was him instead of anyone else.”Alex returns with three fresh pints before you can say anything else. He plops down in his seat, sliding two of them towards you and Greg. “Can we pretend we weren’t talking about me interrupting you two?”“Of course, mate,” Greg laughs, taking a drink.“Thanks,” Alex says, taking a deep breath, visibly relieved. “How did you keep so quiet about this for so long?”Greg grins. “We just didn’t go out. At least, not to places like this.”You nod in agreement. “No pubs or public places—especially not just the two of us. For events we’d both be at, we had to plan it so we wouldn’t arrive or leave together.”Alex grimaces. “That sounds genuinely awful.”“Absolute shit, but worth it,” Greg adds, a smile spreading across his face as he looks at you.“But it felt like it was time to start telling people. I mean, we didn’t want to hide forever.” You grin. “Someone besides you was bound to start seeing the cracks in the ‘just friends’ façade soon.”Alex takes a long sip, then smiles warmly. “You two seem… happy. Really happy.”You feel your cheeks warm at his words. “We are,” you admit softly, sharing a quick glance with Greg. “It’s been good—really good.”Greg nods, his thumb tracing a soothing circle on your leg. “Yeah. Best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”You laugh softly, trying to bring some playfulness back to the conversation. “Well, we’re glad you’re not horrified.”Alex laughs before stifling it with another drink. “Only horrified by the thought of what I could’ve seen. Not at you two.”“Enough about us,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “How have you been?”Alex leans back in his chair, still trying to shake off the playful embarrassment from earlier. “Oh, er, busy as always,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Been helping in the editing bay, been working on getting a new cast finalised.”“You never slow down, do you?”“Sounds like you need the camping trip more than the boys do,” Greg laughs, finishing off his second pint.“I really do,” Alex admits. “It will be nice to get away for a while. Shut everything off.”“It always is.” Under the table, you find Greg’s hand and weave your fingers between his, giving it a squeeze. “Do you have a place you usually go?” you ask.“Yeah, there’s this little place down in Cornwall. It’s almost completely deserted this time of year.”“Is that a good thing?” you laugh.“Oh, it’s perfect,” he insists. “We practically have the whole site to ourselves. It's right on the sea. Last year, Rachel told the boys they could try surfing in a year. I've got my fingers crossed they've forgotten."As you listen to Alex, your mind starts to drift, playful thoughts stealing your focus. You imagine yourself and Greg in a similar setting—lazy holiday mornings curled up together, away from the world, exploring little market towns hand in hand, not giving a shit about who might see or what they’d think. You scooch a little closer to Greg, not making anything too obvious to the other pub goers, excited to see what your life together could bring.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Six weeks later
You unlock the door and step into Greg’s flat. It’s warm inside and feels wonderful in comparison to the cool night.
He smiles and stands up from the sofa, coming over to you. “I didn't expect you until after midnight,” he says, his voice a low rumble as he leans down to give you a kiss.
“I pretty much ran out as soon as my show ended,” you say with a grin, dropping your bag and pulling off your jacket. “I didn’t stop on the way, either.” You flop down on his couch and stretch out. “I was too excited to see you.”
He joins you, settling beside you as he gently guides your head into his lap, his fingers lightly brushing your hair. “You look absolutely knackered.”
You laugh softly, closing your eyes and nestling into the warmth of his lap. “So do you.”
“I just got up from a nap,” he laughs.
You crack one eye open. “It's almost eleven!”
He chuckles, shifting slightly so he can keep running his fingers through your hair. “I've got a script deadline! I thought if I rested and tried writing with you here, you might be able to help and it would stop me from going completely mad.”
You grin, knowing where this is going. “Do you really think I can stop you from ripping the front off your sock drawer again?”
He lets out a deep laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Not likely. You’d probably help me.” He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I’ve been meaning to ask you some stuff.”
Your heart skips a beat at his sudden shift in tone. “Go on,” you say, keeping your voice steady despite the slight anxiety creeping in.
“Nothing too serious,” he assures quickly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I just… er… I'd love for you to come to my mum's for Christmas. My sister and her family will be there, too.”
You open your eyes and your face lights up. “Really? I'd love to!”
His smile widens, the excitement in his eyes unmistakable. “Yeah, I'll let Mum know. She hasn't stopped asking me how you are since you met her—wants to know when we’re both coming around again.”
You grin, warmth flooding through you. “My mum’s been the same. Do you want to tag along for Boxing Day?”
“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation.
“Just be aware you'll be committing to all our weird little games like the Soup Lottery.”
Greg arches an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What the fuck is is that?”
“I didn't tell you about this last year?” You blink in surprise.
“My memory is shit, but I think I'd remember something called ‘The Soup Lottery.’”
“It’s White Elephant except my dad buys all the presents. There’s no limit on how many times something can be stolen except you can't steal it back. And most importantly, every present is a tin of soup.”
“Jesus Christ…” He looks at you, stunned for a beat, before bursting into laughter. “Getting to know your family really explains so much about you.”
“You’re not going to chicken out?” you grin, already knowing his answer.
“Of course not,” he says, grinning. “Christ, what have I signed up for?”
“The best Christmas ever!” you laugh, snuggling back into him a little more. “You said you had a couple of things to ask me, though. What else?”
“Er, right… Do you want to go to Spain?”
You sit up, a little confused by the proposition but also excited. “Spain? Yes, of course! When?”
“In a few months. We can stay at the house I’ve got there—no one in the village gives a shit who I am.”
The idea sends a ripple of excitement through you. “We could go on a real date… like normal people.”
Greg’s smile softens as he reaches for your hand again, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of it. “We can.”
You throw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He laughs softly as he wraps his arms around you in return. You can feel the warmth of his body against his, and it brings a sense of comfort and familiarity that you hadn’t realised you’d been missing these last ten days.
“I missed you so much,” you murmur against his neck, your voice thick with exhaustion and relief. The exhaustion from doing ten shows back-to-back. The exhaustion from driving nearly ninety minutes to get here. The sheer relief of finally being back with him. It's all starting to break through to your surface.
“I missed you too,” he says quietly, his hand sliding up your back in soothing strokes. “You were gone for too long.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” he says gently, his voice calming and warm.
You yawn, laying your head back in his lap, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper. “Logically, I know that. But I was the one who was away.”
Greg’s hand moves to brush a stray hair from your face. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“I love you,” you mumble, barely able to keep your eyes open.
“I love you too.”
You smile up at him, eyes now closed. “So… Spain?”
He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking we should go for a while, but the timing’s always been shit. Your tour has a break, and I don’t have any filming for a bit. Thought it’d be nice to have some time together before all the pre-series interviews kick off. And it’ll be just after our two-year anniversary.”
You yawn again, smiling sleepily. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
He laughs, brushing his thumb gently over the back of your hand again. “You’re sure you don’t want to get some sleep?”
You let out a tired laugh, snuggling deeper into him. Your exhaustion is growing, but the warmth of his body, the sound of his voice, the feeling of being home—it all makes you want to stay awake a little bit longer. “I haven’t seen you in days—I’m not wasting a minute of it.” You shift slightly on his lap and mumble, “Will you just… talk to me?”
Greg tilts his head to look down at you, amusement softening his expression. “About what?”
“Anything,” you murmur, your eyes still closed. “I just want to hear your voice.”
He chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Well, I woke up at some ungodly hour this morning, stared at my computer for about three hours trying to convince myself to get some work done.”
You laugh softly and shift, trying to find a more comfortable position in his lap.
“Then I went for a walk thinking some fresh air might help but really, I just ended up at that bakery down the street. Got one of those sausage rolls you love.”
“Rude,” you tease, your voice still sleepy but laced with a grin.
“I know,” he says, feigning guilt. “But I saved you half.”
You peek an eye open, sceptical. “Did you really?”
“No, I ate it,” he admits with a laugh.
With a playful huff, you raise your middle finger at him, the lazy gesture earning another chuckle from him. He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. His lips brush your knuckles, sending a pleasant warmth through you.
“After that, I came back, sat down, and actually managed to write a few decent pages before I felt like smashing up the toaster.”
“Look at you, being productive,” you say, sarcastically. “And here I thought you spent the whole day napping.”
“That was the reward for not smashing the toaster,” he laughs then shifts slightly so he can look down at you. “But enough about that. How was your show?”
You shrug, yawning. “It went well, I think. The crowd was great, but I was so focused on getting out of there that I barely remember the second half.”
Greg smiles warmly, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You always say that. I’m sure you were brilliant.”
“I hope so,” you mumble, already feeling the exhaustion creeping back in despite your efforts to stay awake.
He watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he strokes your hair. “You should get some rest,” he says gently.
You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed as you nestle deeper into his lap. “No,” you mumble, the hint of a stubborn smile tugging at your lips. “Keep talking.”
He chuckles quietly, but obliges. “Alright, well… After I actually wrote something, I realised I didn't have anything for breakfast tomorrow, so I popped out to the shop and ran into that lady from the third floor.”
“The one who definitely has a crush on you?” you ask with a sleepy giggle.
“Yeah, her,” Greg says, sounding mildly annoyed by you mentioning that. “She cornered me for a solid five minutes to tell me about how she switched cat food brands. And I'm just nodding along being polite, wanting her to shut up. After I escaped, I finally got the shopping, came home, took my nap, and waited impatiently for you to get here.”
You open your eyes for just a moment, meeting his gaze. “I drove as fast as I could,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” he replies, his hand brushing through your hair again, the touch soothing and gentle. “I’m glad you’re here.”
You smile sleepily, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “Me too.”
“Go to sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
You mumble something incoherent, too tired to argue anymore. As you begin to drift off, you hear Greg’s voice, soft and soothing, continuing to tell you stories of his day. His words become a soothing hum in the background, the last thing you hear as you finally give in to the sleep that’s been pulling at you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In the quiet haze of the early morning, you feel the mattress shift slightly under you, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. You blink your eyes open for just a moment trying to discern the time, but the room is still dark, just the faint glow from the early sun barely pressing through the curtains.
His fingers trace gentle lines along your thigh, and you instinctively scoot back, nestling into the familiar warmth of his body. You’ve missed this—the early morning cuddles, the way he fits against you like he was made for it, his warmth pressing into you from shoulder to knee.
You let your eyes close again, surrendering to the steady comfort of his touch. The rise and fall of his chest against your back lulls you, each soft breath a gentle, rhythmic brush against the nape of your neck.
His hand is still slow, now tracing over your stomach. It drifts lower, unintentionally. Your body has a visceral reaction; an aching moan as your legs clamp around his hand.
You can feel his chest rumble with laughter, and your legs relax a little, freeing his hand. It moves back up to your stomach, then higher, his thumb deliberately giving extra attention to your nipple. It starts to harden at his touch.
You groan again, nearly pleading with him.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper, directly in your ear.
You can imagine the grin on his face. “No…” You turn to face him and press a kiss against his lips.
He pushes your shirt up and kisses down your neck, stopping at your breasts. His palm lightly brushes across both your nipples before he pushes your breasts together, lifting them up and giving them a firm squeeze.
He leans back down, kissing your chest. His tongue flicks across your nipple before starting to suck on it. His hand sinking between your legs, a finger stroking your slit through your pants.
You push your hips closer to his hand, but he continues to be slow and deliberate.
“Greg…” you plead quietly, just above his ear. “Please…”
He laughs, his chest shaking against you. He slides his hand down the front of your pants and starts to circle your clit with the same slow, teasing pace as before. His mouth is still on your breast, giving it a light bite causing you to swear under your breath, continuing to squirm from the thrill of his touch.
You pull your pants off, desperate for more of him as he keeps sucking and kissing at your breasts. His finger moves lower, teasing again before entering you. He pauses for just a moment before rubbing you from the inside, giving you a chance to adjust.
Your hand meets your clit, matching his cadence. As the pressure starts to build, your body starts to feel hotter. You grip Greg as closely as you can with your free arm, pushing your face into his shoulder, softening the noise as you cry out, the orgasm rippling through you.
He moves up on his knees, just below you. You peek your eyes open, watching the smile on his face as he teases his cock against your clit, making your body twitch. Finally, he pushes into you, leaning down, brushing his lips against yours. You frantically start to rub your clit more, eager to come again.
He starts slow, but quickly starts to pick up his pace and find a rhythm. You close your eyes again, smiling, enjoying how much you love to be with him. Your entire body relaxes as you moan out again as you finish riding out the waves of pleasure.
You hook your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper into you. You drag your fingers up and down his thighs as he slides in and out of you, his tempo slowing and becoming more erratic as few quiet grunts escape his lips.
He leans back down, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You caress his slightly sweaty face, your fingers drawing down his temples to his beard, giving it a slight tickle. He laughs and pulls himself out before giving you one last quick peck.
—
When you return from the bathroom, you slip back into bed beside him, resting your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your cheek. His arms curl around you, and you pull the duvet snugly over both of you, nestling in closer.
“I don’t even remember coming to bed last night,” you murmur.
His hand moving up to stroke your hair as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I carried you in. You woke up just after I laid you down. You took off your jeans and bra, then angrily threw them across the room. Then you flopped right back down,” he laughs. “What do you remember from last night, then?”
“Just that I was tired. I vaguely remember making holiday plans… and you asked if I wanted to go to Spain with you,” you say, kissing his chest a few times. “After that, not much.”
He chuckles softly, his fingers still in your hair. “You were definitely out of it.”
“Do you have plans for today,” you ask softly, tilting your head up to get a better look at him.
“No, I tried to do as much as I could yesterday so I’d have the time with you,” he replies, a touch of seriousness in his voice. “I missed you more than I expected. Ten days felt like forever.”
“I missed you too. I’ve been having a great time, but nothing compares to this.” You pause, wanting to think for a few seconds before saying anything else, but the words start to come out of your mouth anyway. “I’m going to end up being away for a month.”
His fingers pause mid-stroke, and you can feel a shift in his mood. He lifts his head slightly to look down at you, concern on his face. “A month? When?”
You sigh and hold him tighter. “It’s when I’m up north, and then I go to Ireland right after. We've got about five months until then, but with the way everything is arranged, it doesn’t make much sense to keep coming back here every few days just to go right back.”
The early morning light casts a soft glow on his face, highlighting his furrowed brow. “That’s a long fucking time to be away,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “Ten days without you was hard…” His voice trails off, and you can sense the weight of his emotions. He rests his head against the headboard, exhaling loudly. “A fucking month.”
You pull away and sit up, facing him. “Are you mad?”
“What? No! In a bit of shock… but of course I'm not mad.” He reaches for your hand, his thumb rubbing the back of it. “I'm so fucking proud of you. I know it doesn't make sense for you to keep going back-and-forth. You’d be even more tired than you were last night.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be! You’ve been working really hard for this. It’s ages away. A month is a long time, but we'll figure something out.”
“Sometimes it… sometimes it feels like I’m choosing this over you,” you say quietly.
His gaze softens, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You’re not choosing, darling. I understand, and I’ll be here. It’s just… I want to make the most of the time we have now that you’re finally here.”
“Me too.” You shift and settle fully against him, lying on his chest, feeling his hand drift down to rest gently on your back. “I wish we could stay like this all day.”
“Who says we can't?” he murmurs, his laugh vibrating against you as his hands tighten around your waist, holding you close.
Smiling, you press a few kisses to his jaw, then let them trail softly down his neck, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath your lips.
One of his hands glides up you back. “I don’t think I have it in me to go again so soon,” his chuckle mixed with a groan.
You giggle, looking up at him cheekily. “I’m not doing anything!”
He raises his eyebrow, smirking. “Oh bullshit.”
You grin and kiss his collarbone before sliding back up. “Okay, maybe I was testing you just a little.”
His hand wraps around your waist again, pulling you closer. “You should’ve told me if you weren’t done.”
“I was!” you laugh. “But… I don’t know! I wouldn’t say no to round two later.”
He laughs softly and tilts your chin up so your eyes meet, then leans in. The kiss starts softly, but deepens as his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Time seems to slip away as you melt against him, forgetting everything except the warmth of being together.
Finally, you pull back slightly, your eyes closed and your nose rubbing gently against his. “God, I missed that,” you whisper, your breath mingling with his.
“Then let’s do it again,” he whispers back before kissing you again. You feel the laughter bubbling up as his lips tease yours, the kiss shifting into something more playful and lighthearted than before. Your stomach growls loudly, disrupting the moment.
“I didn’t even get a chance to ask last night—did you eat before getting here?” he asks, a touch of seriousness returning.
You shake your head. “No… I was too excited to see you.”
“I should’ve known. I should’ve had something ready for you. When was your last proper meal?”
You roll off him and shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “Er… breakfast yesterday, I think."
He sits up abruptly, rubbing a hand over his tousled hair, then swings his legs off the bed with a groan. “Jesus Christ… You think? How do you not know?”
You sit up too, watching him as he pulls on a pair of grey joggers that hang low on his hips. “Come on, you know how it is on tour. I barely think about eating when I’m running around like that.”
His brow lifts, and he looks at you pointedly. “I’m having words with your tour manager. I’ll tell him he’s not allowed to let you out of his sight till he’s seen you eat.”
“Is that a threat?” you laugh.
“Absolutely,” he smirks, tossing a t-shirt over his head. “I’ll take him out for a pint and make him promise me.”
“You can't bribe everyone you meet with a pint.”
“Why not? It worked on you,” he laughs, heading towards the door.
You pull on a jumper and some pyjama pants before following him to the kitchen and sitting down at the table.
“You’re lucky I braved third-floor-cat-lady for this stuff,” he says, pulling out a rasher of bacon and a few eggs from the fridge. “I got that granary bread you really like.”
You smile at him and lay your head down on your arms. “Thank you.”
“Someone’s got to look after you,” he says, cracking an egg into a frying pan. When he put the effort in, he was a decent cook.
“When's the last time you ran?” he asks suddenly, tossing a glance over his shoulder.
“Honestly?” You sigh, thinking back. “Weeks ago. I just haven’t had the time.”
He nods thoughtfully, flipping the bacon. “I know you need a lazy day, but tomorrow you should get a quick one in. You always seem in a good mood when you do—not that you aren't right now! But, it might help you get back into some routine of remembering to eat so I don’t have to worry so much.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you watch him. “You’re going to no matter what I do.”
He smirks. “You could make it a little easier on me.”
You roll your eyes, smiling. “I’ll try… but you’ve got to take care of yourself too. Okay? You’ve got some shitty habits.”
He laughs, not denying it. “I know. I’m trying to quit again… We’ll get there together.”
After breakfast, you both drift back to the bedroom, retreating under the duvet. His fingers trail through your hair, his hand moving with a gentle rhythm that lulls you into a sweet sense of peace.
“I’m glad we have this time together,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
You smile, eyes closing as you whisper, “Me too. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Me either,” he says quietly, holding you a little tighter as if he, too, wants to savour the warmth of this morning forever.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Four weeks later
You stand by the kitchen counter, watching the clock on the wall tick toward midnight. The living room has buzzed with laughter for hours with no signs of slowing down.You hold a glass of champagne in your hand, swirling it absentmindedly as your gaze drifts over to where Greg is standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by a group of friends. His smile is wide and easy, his laugh infectious, and you catch yourself smiling without meaning to.While both of you would usually prefer to stay at home, wrapped up together, tonight felt like an exception. There had been too many quiet nights hiding from everyone. Your friends were finally in on the secret and it was time to celebrate that in semi-public for the first time.Greg catches you looking at him and grins, excusing himself from the group and coming over. His hands wrap around your waist and he leans down giving you a quick kiss. “God, I don't think I'll ever get over being able to do that,” he laughs.“What? This?” you tease, tugging him down for another, longer, but just as playful kiss.Greg chuckles against your lips as you pull him closer. "Yeah, this," he whispers on your lips, his thumb lightly brushing your side. “I can do this whenever I want now.”Your fingers linger on the back of his neck, holding him close. “Almost,” you murmur with a smile.His eyes light up as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead before taking a small step back to look you in the eye. “Almost,” he repeats. “A few more months and then I don’t have to give a fuck who sees.”You feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought. "I know," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t wait!”“God, get a room!” someone jokes, passing by with a freshly filled champagne flute.You grin and bury your face into his chest just enough to hide your blushing, the teasing laughter fading into the background. He laughs, pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head again. You feel a little giddy, like it’s still all new, even though it’s been nearly two years.“Maybe we should step outside, just for a moment,” he chuckles.You nod in agreement, reaching for his hand. The two of you head toward the back door, pushing through the chatter and laughter. Greg leads you toward a corner of the garden, where the light from the house barely reaches, just the dim glow of fairy lights above. He pulls you in close again, wrapping his arms around you as you press your cheek against his chest.“I’m so glad everyone here knows, but this feels more… more like us, I guess,” you say, your voice slightly muffled by his jacket.“Yeah, I know.” His hand runs through your hair. “I’m still a bit used to having you all to myself.”You nod again, planting a few kisses against his chest. “It feels strange, doesn’t it? We’ve spent so much time hiding away and in just a week we’ve had two family get togethers and now a New Years party.”“I did not expect your Nan to be that excited about spicy parsnip soup. I thought she was going to break my arm when I unwrapped it,” he laughs, his breath visible in the cool air. “You could’ve warned me that Soup Lottery gets vicious.”“It's competitive! Not vicious!” You grin and lean into him just a little more, laughing as well. “She really liked you, you know?”“Did she?” he asks, sounding a bit surprised.“Of course she did! I told you months ago—they just want me to be happy. They all see how much you love me, and that’s good enough for them.” He smiles and holds you a little tighter. “Sian told me that the girls were baffled that I have a girlfriend who is ‘actually cool.’”“Aw, that’s sweet,” you laugh. “It’s going to be such a heartbreak for them when they realise the only person less cool than me is their uncle.”“Oi, fuck off,” he chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss on the forehead. “Those girls adore me.”“I loved watching you joke around with them. It was fun seeing you… with kids.” You tuck your hands under his shirt against his sides.“Fuck!” he yelps, startled. “Your hands are freezing!”“Sorry.” You start to pull them away, but he tugs them back and shifts slightly, trying to adjust to keep your hands warm with minimal detriment to himself.You close your eyes, leaning into him, breathing in his scent and listening to his heartbeat. There's a moment of peaceful silence between you two, but something within you feels the need to break it. “I used to think I was so independent, you know? Like, I didn’t care if I met their family, or if they met mine. I didn’t miss people when they weren’t around, and they didn’t really seem to miss me… and then I met you.”His arms tighten around you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Me being needy is finally a good thing."“It is,” you agree, laughing softly. “I like that you’re a bit needy. It’s nice to feel wanted.”“Of course you’re wanted.” His voice is low and sincere. “Why wouldn’t you be?”“I don’t know,” you half laugh. “You’re the first person I’ve dated that really made me feel that way. It’s just…” Your voice trails off, not really wanting to rehash your previous relationships, especially when what you have with him feels so perfect.He doesn't push you to finish your thought. Instead, he simply holds you tighter, his lips brushing the top of your head.“Can you believe it’s almost been two years?” you ask him, now changing the subject.“Not really,” he laughs, taking your hands off his waist, fiddling with your fingers. “I couldn't have imagined this when I walked you home from that pub. I spent the rest of that night convincing myself that if I ever heard from you again, it wouldn’t last more than a week. I certainly didn’t expect to wake up the next morning to a text asking if I got home alright.”You look up at him, stifling a laugh. “Well, it was dark and London.”He chuckles softly, his fingers gently tracing circles over your knuckles. “You were the first person to ever ask me that after a date.”“Really? It's just polite.”“You were, though,” he says softly. “It threw me off at first because most people don’t really give a shit, or they think they can’t say anything for a few days. I'm too old for those games. But you… you actually seemed to care.”“I did care.” You look up at him, smiling. “I still care.”He laughs, pulling you a tiny bit closer. “I still had some doubt—that you’d just be a fling… that someone else more interesting and better looking than me would grab your interest and you’d forget about me…”You kiss his chest, holding him against you. “I could never forget you.”As he brushes a strand of hair off your face, smiling down at you, cheers erupt from inside the house and fireworks start exploding on the horizon.“Must be midnight,” you murmur.He leans down, his lips on yours. The kiss is soft, but then it deepens, and the world around you disappears. You taste the champagne on him, feeling the warmth of his body holding you against him before slowly pulling away.“I love you,” he says quietly, pressing his forehead against yours.“I love you too,” you reply, a grin tugging at your lips. Without thinking, you give him another quick peck. “Happy New Year.”“Happy New Year, darling.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Seven weeks later
The car winds up the narrow road, crawling through the sharp turns up into the hills. The sun-bleached houses seem to glow orange in the afternoon sun. You glance over at Greg, his face scrunched up in discomfort. You’ve had your hand resting on his knee most of the drive. He pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car, stretching stiffly before hobbling over to unlock the door.“Are you okay? Is your back hurting?” you ask, following him.He nods, grimacing. “How the fuck is someone like me suppose to sit in that small of a space for hours?”“Go lay down for a bit. Stretch out.”He looks down at you and reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze. “I'm sorry.”“For what?” you laugh.He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I feel like I’m ruining the trip and we just got here.”“You’re not ruining anything!” You give him a gentle hug. “Seriously, go lay down. I'll bring stuff in from the car.”He shakes his head. “No, I can bring—”“Bed. Now,” you demand.He smiles weakly. “Alight, you win. Some things you're too stubborn to fight on.” He lets go of you reluctantly, stretching a bit more before trudging to the main bedroom.As he disappears down the hall, you take a moment to take a look around his holiday house. The sun filters in through the windows giving it the perfect, inviting, late afternoon glow that London could never produce. You step outside to unload the car. You weren't sure where his fuss about getting the suitcases was coming from. For a week away, they weren’t exactly heavy.You carry both bags to the bedroom, setting them next to the wardrobe, then sit on the bed next to him, lightly rubbing his shoulder. He’s lying on his stomach, his eyes closed. He slightly angles his body toward you as you settle in.You watch his face for a moment, noticing the faint lines of stress around his eyes, the way his lips twitch every now and then, as if he's trying to mask his discomfort. "Tell me if I'm pushing too hard," you say softly, pressing your hands into the muscles of his upper back."I'll let you know," he mumbles, his voice strained.You start with gentle pressure, working your way down his spine, trying to find the knots that have built up over the years. His shoulders are tense, and there's a tightness between his shoulder blades that feels like it's been there for ages.You press into it slowly, applying just enough force to start easing it out, but ease up as he exhales sharply. “Sorry! Was that too much?” you ask him.He shakes his head barely. “No. Hurts in a good way.”You continue your hands down his spine, working out from it, pressing and holding on muscles with too much tension.“I should have you do this more often,” he murmurs.“You never ask,” you tease, leaning in to press your thumbs into a particularly tight knot near his lower back.“Yeah, but I wouldn't have nearly as many problems with it if I wasn't bending down to kiss you all the time.”You laugh, your fingers still pressing into his muscles. “Oh, boo-fucking-hoo! My calves are sore from being on my tiptoes all the time.”“Are you sure it’s not from running?” he jokes, still sounding tense. “I still have to bend down no matter how tall you try and make yourself.”You roll your eyes and smile, pressing into a particular tight knot in his lower back making him groan. “Still good?”“Yeah,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth.You pause for a moment, gauging his reaction. His scrunched face slowly starts to relax, and you continue working your thumb into it. He lets out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders sinking further into the bed.The room is quiet except for the sound of his breathing and the faint hum of the Spanish countryside. You work in silence for a few minutes, making sure not to push him too hard, but enough to relieve the built up tension.You run your hands up his back, just rubbing his shoulders with light pressure now. “If you want to rest for a bit, I can wake you in an hour.”His eyes snap open for a moment. "No, stay. Lay with me. Please?”You smile to yourself and oblige, kicking your shoes off and cuddling up next to him. Your hand continues to run up and down his back lightly providing a soothing rhythm. “Doing better?”He turns his head a little and gives you a kiss on the nose, but he doesn't say anything. As the minutes pass, you can feel him starting to tense up again, and a heavy silence settles between you.“Are you alright?” you ask him quietly.He takes a deep breath that sounds like it's filled with disappointment; your stomach turns to knots hearing it. “I was planning on coming to Glasgow so we’d see each other during that month you’ll be away… but reshoots ended up being scheduled for that week and the next. Then I was going to come to your last show, but something came up that weekend too.”You shift closer to him, your hand running up and down his back, soothing him in silence. The last few months had been really tough, and it didn't feel like it was going to ease up anytime soon.“It feels like we can't catch a fucking break.” His voice is angry now, not at you, but the situation.“What would you call this? Right now?” you ask, trying to get him to focus on the present.He grunts softly, but doesn't respond. His body tenses again under your touch, his anger bubbling under the surface as he works to process everything. The quiet stretches on and for a moment. He shifts again and sighs deeply. He’s been like this before—quiet, restless, tangled up in disappointment. It's hard to watch, even after all this time, how much he internalises things out of his control.“Greg…” you say softly, tracing his shoulders with your hand. “We're here. Together. This is what matters right now. Not something that isn’t happening for a few more weeks.”His silence continues, but he reaches an arm out, wrapping it around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his anger starting to fade. You sink into him, feeling the warmth of his body next to you.“I love you,” he whispers finally. He's said it hundreds of times before, but this feels different; it's raw and vulnerable.“I love you too,” you say softly, but firmly. “I'm right here.”His arm tightens around you a little more and his breathing starts to steady as you lay together in the fading afternoon light."I'm sorry," he whispers again.“You don’t need to apologise.” You rub your hand back down his back and give him a kiss on the forehead. "Tell me: what you're most excited about. What do you want to show me the most while we’re here?”He shifts slightly, his fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns on your side where your shirt has ridden up just a bit. He's quiet, thinking, but it's not like the silence that was punctuated with frustration."No one cares who I am here. I can hold your hand when we walk into town. I can kiss you in front of the old guy who lives at the bottom of the street— he fucking hates me for some reason. I’ll gladly ruin his day showing him how happy you make me." He takes a deep breath, continuing to work on steadying his breathing. "There's a terraced tapas bar... No one eats early here, but we can go before sunset while they're quiet and have the moment to ourselves.”You nuzzle your face as close as you can to him and take a deep breath. It finally feels as if he's letting himself relax.“Let’s stay here tonight,” he says quietly. “We’ll go to tapas later this week. Just… stay here with me right now.”“Of course.” Your hand leaves his back and traces his jaw. “I’m a bit tired anyway. It’s been a long day.”His hand rests lightly on top of yours, guiding it gently towards his lips so he can kiss your palm. The silence in the room no longer feels heavy, but comforting, with the wind rustling the olive trees outside. His hand continues to hold yours, his thumb tracing circles on the back of it.“Are you doing better?” you ask after a few more minutes of quiet, your voice just above a whisper.“Yeah,” he replies softly. “I just needed to get out of my head for a bit.”You reach up and give him a gentle kiss, acknowledging his effort to be more in the moment. His arm around you tightens briefly before relaxing again, as if he's finally starting to believe that, right now, there’s nothing he needs to worry about.“Not to ruin this, but maybe we should think about getting something for dinner. Just… eat in tonight.”He chuckles and presses another kiss to your hand. “Yeah. Quick trip into town then straight back here. We can get some snacks and stuff for breakfast too. And wine. A fuck-ton of wine.”You nod, laughing, and sit up slowly, resting on the edge of the bed to put your shoes back on. Greg comes over and stands in front of you, holding his hand out to pull you up off the bed. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to you. You look up at him, smiling. “I'm glad we're here.”He looks down at you, taking a deep breath and smiling as well. “Me too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two days later
“How long does it take to get ready?” Greg calls out, his tone impatient, but teasing.
You laugh as you take a final look in the mirror. “I'm almost done,” you shout back through the bedroom door.
“You said that twenty minutes ago!” he replies mockingly.
“This time I'm serious!” You open the door, flashing a cheeky grin, finally ready for dinner.
He exhales softly, his eyes sweeping over you. “Look at you! You look beautiful.” He takes your hand and twirls you gently, allowing you to show off. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.”
“Believe it or not, I don't live in t-shirts, jeans, and trainers,” you laugh, pulling lightly on his shirt, getting him to lean down for a kiss.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d dressed up for a date. You and Greg had stopped going out after the first few once you realised whatever was happening was actually going somewhere. Even those few dates had just been hanging out casually at pubs with no reason to dress up besides drawing attention.
“Hey, before we leave, I need to show you something.” You take a step back and lift the hem of your dress.
His eyes widen and a grin spreads across his face. “Fuck me…”
Underneath is the black lace bodysuit from months ago. He grabs your hips, pulling you against him again, then he reaches behind, giving your bum a squeeze.
“Hey!” you laugh, grinning up at him.
“I thought you might’ve forgotten about that.”
“Of course I haven’t!” you scoff, laughing. “Do you want to know the best part about showing you this now?”
His hands dance around your body, excitedly, almost like they don't know where to go next, the grin still on his face. “What's that?” he asks in a sing-songy way.
“We're going to be at dinner for hours. You're going to have to wait,” you laugh, repeating his tune. You pull him back down, your lips against his ear. “I'm going to be so fucking wet when we get back here.”
“Oh, fuck you,” he groans, his hands now gripping you tighter, pulling you close as he stands back up straight.
You laugh, pressing your body into his. “So, are we going?”
He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, a grin forming across his face again. “Yeah, come on.”
You leave the house, hands intertwined and your other hand clutched to his forearm possessively. You were going to enjoy every second of claiming him as your own while you were here with the peace and quiet of the Spanish countryside.
As you walk down the narrow cobbled streets toward the centre of the village, the air is cool and the sun is just on the cusp of going down. You can hear the faint chatter of locals as the village begins to wake up for the evening.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Greg sneaking glances at you, his eyes darting between your face, your dress, your legs, and occasionally your chest. It’s cute how much he’s trying to stay focused on getting into town, but he’s failing spectacularly.
“Enjoying the view?” you ask casually with a smirk.
Greg’s cheeks flush the instant you speak, his hand tightening around yours. “Fuck you,” he laughs.
“You’re very distracted for someone just walking to dinner,” you tease, the warmth of his hand making you feel more playful.
“You're very distracting,” he shoots back.
“It's a sundress and cardigan! How is that distracting?”
He laughs again, shaking his head. “That’s not the distracting part.”
“Then what is?” you ask, feigning ignorance.
“I'm not dignifying that with an answer.” He looks down at you and gives your hand another squeeze, trying not to break. “You damn well know what is.”
Grinning, you tug lightly at the hem of your dress again. “This?”
Before anything shows, he stops in his tracks, turning to face you. “Don’t you fucking dare.” His fingers tighten around your wrists, keeping them still, but you can see the twitch of his lips trying to hold back a grin. “How am I supposed to make it through dinner with you… doing all of this?”
You lean closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’d be more worried about how you’re going to make it
to
dinner.”
Before he can respond, you pull him down for a kiss, soft and lingering, just enough to keep him on his toes.
As you pull away, he glances down at you. His face is a mix of exasperation and desire. He’s trying so hard to stay composed and it's not working in the least. He clears his throat and lets go of your wrists. “We should, er… we should keep moving, yeah?”
You laugh at his attempt, but nod and slide your fingers between his again. You did want to see the sunset on the terrace. You continue down the cobblestone street, Greg’s hand wrapped warmly around yours. You can feel his eyes wandering over you, but you just smile to yourself this time rather than saying anything.
The terrace is nearly empty as you arrive at the restaurant. You dash over to the balustrade, excited to look out at the sun dipping behind the mountains, painting everything in a fiery orange glow.
Greg steps up beside you and rests his hand lightly on your waist, his fingers toying with the hem of your cardigan. His eyes sweep over you again with less restraint than earlier, then out at the sunset.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs.
You lean your head against his side, basking in the perfect moment with him. “Yeah, it really is.”
His hand shifts down toward your hip, his thumb making small circles over the soft fabric of your dress, almost in an attempt to keep himself grounded. You glance up at him, studying his face in the quickly fading sunlight. For just the moment, you want a pause in teasing him.
He looks back down at you, making eye contact. “What?” he asks, curiously, a smile creeping across his face.
“Just… you.” You reach up, your fingers grazing against his beard. “I feel like I don’t tell you enough—how handsome you are…”
“The sunset is deceiving you,” he says, trying to downplay your compliment.
“You’re always saying you’re not, but you are. You are to me.” Your fingers trail down from his jaw to his chest, your voice growing more tender. “I love your smile, and how easy you laugh, I love how your eyes crinkle when you do either. I love the way you smell like home. I love how you're always so excited to see me. I love how you make me feel safe…”
He stares at you for a few seconds, his cheeks starting to turn pink again. “I love you too,” he finally whispers. He squeezes your hip and takes a deep breath. “You don't have to list everything out for me to know.”
You nuzzle your head back against his side. “I know, but I still want you to hear it, so you don't forget.”
“I won't,” he chuckles, giving you a squeeze. “Should we find a seat?”
You take Greg’s hand again, giving him a sly smile, and guide him to a small corner table near the edge of the terrace. He pulls out a chair for you as you sit, his eyes lingering on your for just a beat longer than he would normally before he takes a seat adjacent to you. It’s like he’s trying to figure out if you’ve returned to your teasing mood.
“How’s your Spanish?” he asks, noticing a server approaching.
“Absolute shit. I took French,” you admit quietly so the server can’t hear. “Can you order for me?”
He stifles a laugh at your blunt honesty. “Yeah, I can do.”
“Hola, buenas tardes,” the server says, setting down two menus. “¿Puedo traerte algo de beber?”
“Queremos dos tintos de verano, por favor,” he replies smoothly.
“Vuelvo enseguida.” The server nods and heads toward the bar.
You scoot your chair just a little closer to Greg’s, letting your knee brush against his. He glared at you out of the corner of his eye.
When the server returns, they set two glasses in front of you—red wine fizzing just a little bit, garnished with slices of orange. “¿Quieres hacer tu pedido ahora?”
“Erm, sí,” Greg responds, his voice steady and more focused than he has been all night. “Queremos patatas bravas, croquetas de jamón y queso, y tabla de queso de cabra, por favor.”
“Bueno. ¿Puedo traerle algo más?”
“No gracias.” Greg hands the menus back with a polite smile, and the server departs again.
You shrug your cardigan off and drape it over the back of the chair, noticing the way his gaze follows your movement. It quickly shifts from your chest to your face. He looks frustrated in the most loving way possible.
“Oh god,” he groans quietly. “I think it
is
the dress now.”
“Is it?” you ask playfully. You look down at it briefly, brushing your hand across your chest, pretending to adjust the neckline.
“Fuck you,” he laughs again, shaking his head.
You lean forward just a little, placing your hand on the inside of Greg’s thigh. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, but it hitches just a little bit. You keep your hand there, letting your fingers trace the outline of his leg slowly, purposefully, watching him try to keep his focus.
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze looking back down to your hand on his trousers. “Christ,” he murmurs. “Why do you put me through this?”
You giggle and give his leg a little squeeze before letting your fingers drift closer to his knee. “Because I love you. And it’s fun.”
He lets out a quiet groan, his jaw tightening as he takes a long sip of his drink. “You’re going to regret doing all of this.”
“Do you promise?” you tease, not taking him seriously.
But then he gives you a look that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice drops, low and deliberate. “Oh, I promise. The second we’re out of here, you’re mine. All fucking night."
The air between you shifts, the playful banter melting into something far more intense. His words stay in the air. You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to steady yourself, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away.
“You think I’ll regret it?” you ask softly, knowing full well that he can see right through you.
His lips curve just slightly, but there's no humour in it. “
You
—in my hands, under me.” His eyes burn into yours, your skin tingling, and it takes you just a second to realise you’re holding your breath.
You swallow hard, now being the one who is trying to keep their cool. He rarely teases back like this, but this is different than anytime before. You’ve only teased him in the seclusion of your flats. The playfulness is gone. There’s fire in his eyes. Neither of you move for a moment.
He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving your face, daring you to make the next move. Before you can say anything the server comes out with the food.
“¿Puedo traerle algo más?” they ask, not oblivious, but definitely ignoring the tension at the table.
Greg shifts his gaze to them, his tone polite but short. “La cuenta, por favor.”
As soon as the server leaves, Greg leans back in his chair, biting into a croqueta, his eyes scanning your face, looking for your next move. “I’m not playing your game.” The contrast of his relaxed position and his voice makes your stomach tighten. “But if you
really
want me to, you’d better be ready.”
You take a bite of patatas bravas, holding his stare. “I think you’re already playing."
“Is that so?” His voice has shifted again, almost daring you to continue.
You reach for your glass, swirling the wine slowly as you let the silence stretch. You bring the glass to your lips and take a slow sip. When you set it down, your fingers trace it lazily, not breaking eye contact. “Of course you are.” You slide your hand back under the table, brushing it along his leg once more, no longer with the same playful intent.
He stiffens under your touch, his breath catching again before he lets out a quiet groan. “Stop that.”
You pull your hand away, but your playful smile says everything. “You sure?”
“Stop it,” he repeats, his voice hoarse and his restraint thinning. “Or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
Your heart is pounding. You know you’ve pushed him to the edge and you’re not sure if you want to step back so you can enjoy dinner, or if you want to push him over. You lean in, keeping your voice hushed, just for him. “I like seeing how much I can make you want me.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Under the table, your foot slides along his calf, slow and deliberate. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, the muscles tight in his jaw as he suppresses a groan. His hands grip his glass a little too tightly, his knuckles starting to turn white.
“I want you plenty,” he says after a long pause. His voice is low and gravelly, sending another wave of heat through you.
You pick up a croqueta and casually pop it into your mouth, still pretending to play it cool, but your pulse is racing.
His eyes narrow and the muscles in his neck flex as he slowly exhales. He leans in slightly, his gaze fixed firmly on you. “Why are you really doing this?”
Something in him has shifted. He’s no longer on the edge of losing control—he’s stepped into it, and now it feels like he’s leading the game.
“Greg…” you breathe, but the words catch in your throat.
His voice drops lower, deliberate and daring. “You want me to take control, don’t you?” His question lands heavy. “I can see it in your eyes.”
You swallow hard, your throat feeling a bit dry. Your natural instinct is to argue and play coy; that’s what the game
should
be… but you do want him to take control. You stay quiet, reaching for your wine again and taking another drink, trying to allow yourself some more time to think about how you want to respond.
“You wanted to see how far you could push me before I snapped.”
“Have you snapped?” you ask, aiming for nonchalance. “You seem calm to me.”
“Don’t mistake this for calm, darling.”
The server returns, but Greg doesn’t speak as he hands his card over, his attention entirely focused on the subtle ways you’re reacting to him, the way you’re trying to steady your breath.
His eyes lock back on to yours as the server walks away. “You still haven’t answered me,” he says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. “Do you want me to take control? Yes or no.”
“Yes.” The word slips out of your mouth almost involuntarily.
The briefest flash of satisfaction shows in his eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting a smile. The moment stretches on and neither of you rush to break it. He takes his time, leaning back in his chair, as if savoring the confession you’ve just made.
You shift in your seat, feeling your cheeks flush again. It’s a bit thrilling how much control he seems to have already by doing nothing more than look at you.
“I think we should leave,” he says finally, his voice low and firm.
You blink, caught a little off guard by him finally speaking again. Another wave of temptation to tease him a little longer washes over you, but you let it pass. “Right now?” you ask, trying to play it cool but feeling a little breathless. “We’ve barely eaten.”
He stands up slowly, not waiting. “Now,” he confirms, his tone still firm.
You follow him out of the restaurant, the cobblestone streets becoming livelier as the evening continues.
He stops in front of a small alley, glancing at you for a moment before pulling you down it. “I’m not waiting any longer, not after that,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.
There’s no protest. His hand tightens around yours as he leads you further in. Suddenly, he stops, pushing you against the clay and concrete wall.
His hands find your waist, his grip firm as he draws you closer. The alleyway is quiet, distant from the hum of the village. His gaze holds yours, intense, unwavering.
“Are you absolutely sure?” His voice is hushed, filled with desire and impatience.
“Yes,” you whisper, your voice somehow steady despite your heart feeling like it's going to beat out of your chest.
His lips press against yours, his teeth slighting knocking into yours, but neither of you care, having been desperate for this moment for a while. His hands move over your body with an urgency that makes your skin tingle.
He slides a hand under your skirt, his knee wedged between your legs to push them open. His fingers part your lips and they brush just over your clit. Your body jerks just a little and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. The sound only seems to fuel his hunger for you. His flinger slides slowly up and down your slit, pressing ever so slightly.
“Fuck…” He draws out the word slowly on your mouth. “You’re so wet right now.”
You let out a soft whimper, spreading your legs a little wider for him, desperate for him to keep touching you.
He pushes his finger inside, then pulls it out, dragging it along your slit again before circling your clit. “I don't think you’ve
ever
been wetter.”
He pushes his finger back inside of you. You can hear what he means from him curling it further into you and back out. His thumb flicks across your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. The heat is rising within you, legs shaking, squeezing around his finger, face pressed into his chest, and then he stops.
“What the fuck?” You open your eyes, looking at him with frustration. “I was so close!”
He brings his wet finger up from under your dress, teasing it against your lips. He looks down at you, smiling a naughty grin. “I'll tell you when you can come.”
You narrow your eyes and let out a frustrated huff. He was already making good on his promise of having you regret teasing him. Maybe you could throw him off… make him change his mind. You kiss his finger, still pressed against your lips. You take it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, licking your juices off.
His hand shifts, pulling it out of your mouth and gripping your jaw, tilting it upwards forcing you to look at him. It doesn’t hurt, but it takes you by surprise.
“Don't,” he warns. He kisses you again, softer this time but still just as commanding. “We’re going back to the house. Now.”
He holds your hand tightly and leads you back out onto the main road. You can tell he’s keen to get back, but he's slowed his pace down enough not to draw too much attention from the villagers. The cool night air blows against your skin, but you barely notice; you’re too distracted by what just happened in the alley. God, just thinking about it was making you hot again.
You don’t even realise you’re back at the house until Greg pauses, pulling out the key and unlocking the door. He pushes it open, gesturing for you to step inside. The second the door closes and he locks it behind him, his lips are back on yours.
His hands move quickly, searching for the zipper at the back of your dress. When he finds it and slides it down, you feel the fabric loosen and let it slip off your shoulders, letting it fall to your feet. He steps back, taking in the sight of you, the lace taut on your skin.
In an instant, his hands are on you again, gripping you firmly as he lifts you off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, your arms looping around his neck to hold on. He moves through the house to the bedroom.
When he reaches the bed, he tosses you onto it effortlessly. You look up at him, your heart pounding again, momentarily stunned how easily he handled you.
He stands at the edge of the bed, towering over you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on you. You shift slightly, leaning back on your elbows, your breath uneven as you wait to see what he does next.
His hands move to the top button of his shirt, undoing it slowly. You watch him, your anticipation building as his fingers slide to the next button. But then he stops.
“While I get ready, I want to watch you play with yourself. Do not come.” His words are slow and measured.
He’s full of surprises tonight, but you oblige. You shift on the bed getting into a more comfortable position, spreading your legs to give him the best view. Your fingers lightly stroke your labia, then rest at the top by your clit for a second before starting to rub.
You look up at Greg, who is taking his sweet time undressing while enjoying your show. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and lets it fall on the floor. As his hands move to his belt buckle, you slip two fingers into your pussy.
He exhales loudly, watching you pump your fingers in and out, edging yourself closer to the orgasm he wants you to delay. Once he’s finally undressed, he lays down next to you and places his hand over yours, stopping you from getting any closer. He places your hand on his cock, guiding it up and down before letting go.
You keep your hand wrapped around it, slowly stroking it. A quiet moan escapes his lips which encourages you a little more. You shift to your side and tighten your grip on him just a little, going a little faster and your thumb massaging the tip. As his breathing starts to get louder and quicker, you slow back down, making sure he doesn't get too comfortable. With your other hand, you cup his balls. He swears quietly, and in a swift motion moves so he's over you, pinning one of your wrists by your head.
“There's only one place I'm coming tonight,” he growls, “and it's inside of you.”
He slides his cock against you, getting it nice and wet, and teasing you at the same time. Your moans get louder each time it presses into your clit, begging for him.
He finally slides deep inside of you, your wetness giving little resistance. He reaches for your other hand and brings it up to his lips, gently kissing the back of it a few times, then pushing it down against the bed, pinning you beneath him. He pushes himself harder and deeper into you with every thrust.
“Look at me,” he demands.
You open your eyes, directing them up at him. He takes a moment, staring at you, as if silently asking you to trust him. He releases one of your wrists, placing his hand below your chest. His hand moves higher, over your breast, stopping on your throat. The pressure is light enough that you're able to breath easily, but still enough to remind you that he's in control.
“Please, Greg!” you plead. He's driving you crazy with how he's taken over.
He grins down at you, his pace getting faster, but he doesn't say anything.
“Please let me come!” You feel like you're about to boil over. You cannot hold off any longer.
He leans down to kiss you. “Come for me,” he purrs against your lips.
You stiffen your hips, your now free hand frantically rubbing your clit, and your body trembling with pleasure as he continues to slam into you. It’s like an explosion after all the teasing, after not letting you come. Your brain feels like television static and it sounds like there is screaming in the distance. Finally, your body goes limp, unable to take anymore.
He starts to slow down, his grip on you getting just a bit tighter, and his face red and sweaty. He grunts along with his final few thrusts.
He releases your neck and wrist as he leans down to kiss you. There’s a tenderness that isn’t usually there. He rolls off you, reaching for some tissues on the nightstand, but then pauses, glancing at the state of the sheets with a sigh. Instead, he settles next to you, taking your hand in his, this time simply holding it.
“That—that wasn't too much, was it?” His voice is quieter now, hesitant. It’s the first time all night he’s sounded unsure of himself.
“No.” Your voice is a bit raspy, and your head is still too fuzzy to say very much, but you give his hand a weak squeeze hoping it’s enough.
“Good.” He exhales, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. He doesn’t press further, letting the silence settle between you.
You both lie there for a moment, listening to each other's breathing. His thumb brushes over your knuckles rhythmically, whether to comfort you or himself, you’re not entirely sure. You blink a few times, trying to clear the remaining haze in your mind, then work on trying to sit up. Your whole body feels like jelly.
“Careful,” he murmurs, sitting up quickly and extending an arm to steady you.
You hold on to him and lean in to give him a slow kiss. When you pull away, you give him a soft smile, then drag your legs over the side of the bed quickly testing your weight on them.
“I’m going to, erm, to rinse off, yeah?” you say, glancing over your shoulder.
He nods, standing up and looking at the wreckage of the bed. “Yeah… I’ll get this sorted.”
You linger for a moment, watching him. His expression is thoughtful, his movements careful as he begins pulling at the corner of the sheets. Your head is starting to feel clearer and you wonder what’s going on in his.
But instead of asking, you turn towards the door, shuffling toward the bathroom, feeling his eyes follow you the entire way.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The moonlight spills softly through the bedroom window, casting a silver glow on the empty, clean bed. You frown, expecting Greg to have been there waiting for you like he always is. You pick up his discarded check shirt off the floor, the one he’d worn at dinner, and pull it on. You can still smell the faint traces of his cologne and it makes your heart flutter.You leave the bedroom and walk barefoot down the hall to the main room, seeing the door to the patio slid open. You can see Greg sitting with his back to the door, holding a glass of wine. You step outside, the cool breeze making you shiver. “Greg?”He doesn’t immediately turn around at the sound of your voice, still focused on the night sky. He looks lost in thought, like the quiet after a storm. The soft sound of your steps on the pavement make him glance over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up as he sees you.“Christ, you can even make one of my shirts look good,” he says softly, a smile forming on his lips.You smile and roll your eyes, continuing towards him. “You look better in it than I do.”“Yeah, right,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head, but then his smile quickly fades. “Are you doing all right?”You pause behind him, your fingers grazing his shoulder. “I’m great.” You lean down and give him a kiss on the top of the head. “Are you? I thought you’d be in bed.”He shrugs, not quite meeting your eyes. “I needed a minute. To think.” He swirls his wine, but he seems unaware he’s doing it.“Was it that bad?” you laugh, sitting down in the chair beside him, your bare knee brushing against his pant leg. “You were fantastic tonight.”He stops swirling the glass, chuckling again before taking a sip. “Opposed to usual, when I’m shit?”“No!” you laugh again. “You're never shit! You always make me feel amazing.” You reach for his hand and give it a light squeeze. “What's going on?”He exhales loudly. “We’re pretty relaxed, you know? No one is ever really in charge. We just do whatever feels right in the moment usually.” He hesitates more and scrunches up his face, thinking. “It just… made me feel a bit weird after.”You tilt your head, curious. “Weird how?”“I don’t know.” He swirls his wine again, searching for the answer. “I just had a flood of thoughts after.” He takes a slow breath. “I wasn’t really expecting to enjoy being more… forceful,” he admits. “I have fake authority all the time, and it goes to my head and you knock me down a peg… but this was different. I liked having that control. I liked having it over you. Watching you be submissive.”You can tell he’s still hesitating, wanting to say something else. You wait patiently, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb, giving him the space to collect his thoughts.“It could have all gone wrong so quickly. I mean, it could’ve been a lot rougher, but… you’re tiny next to me.” He sets the wine down, turning slightly to look at you. His eyes are full of worry. “It’s hard to think about enjoying something that could hurt you.”You lean forward and give him a kiss on the forehead as reassurance. “Remember how a few hours ago I told you I love how you make me feel safe, and you were all like ‘you don't have to list everything you love about me’, and I was like ‘I say it so you don't forget’, and then you said ‘I won't forget’? This is why I say it out loud.” You give him a playful nudge and he smiles. “For fuck's sake,” you continue, laughing softly, “you were so worried about accidently crushing me the first time we slept together, you insisted on a safe word."“Yeah, well… it had been a while at that point,” he laughs, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I’m in my head again, aren’t I?”“A bit, but at least you're in the moment this time,” you giggle, squeezing his hand again. “You’re allowed to have complicated feelings over it. I think it's quite sweet that you're thinking all this through. I’m adding it to the list of reasons why I love you.”“I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, smiling.“Yeah, you are,” you tease, grinning as you climb onto his lap. Settling in, you drape your arms around his shoulders and snuggle closer. “You’re warm,” you whisper against his neck as the breeze picks up.He wraps his arms around you as you settle onto his lap, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. “You wouldn’t be so cold if you had put on trousers.”“And have you miss out on me wearing nothing but your shirt?”He groans softly, the sound in his chest rumbling against you. “I can’t take anymore of your teasing tonight.” He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back through the thin fabric of his shirt.You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, listening to the world around you quiet down. Eventually, though, the chill starts settling in a little more and you know it’s time to go back inside. Greg gently lifts you off his lap, his warm hands lingering on your waist. You take his hand, helping him to his feet, and you both make your way back through the patio doors and into the house.Once back in the bedroom, you take off Greg’s shirt, tossing it to the side with the rest of the dirty laundry. He smiles at the sight of you, always slightly in awe. You climb into the bed, your body sinking into the softness of it, yawning after a long evening. He crawls in next to you, pulling the duvet over you both.He rolls on his side, facing you, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. You rest your head on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat providing its familiar comfort. His fingers gently trace along your spine, slow and steady.“I love you,” he whispers.You close your eyes and press a kiss to his chest. “I love you, too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Three Weeks Later
“It’s not going to fit!” Your frustration is starting to flare.
“It will. You just need to relax,” Greg says, his voice annoyingly calm.
“This is my last night with you for a month. I'm not exactly feeling relaxed.”
“Here, let me…” He tips the suitcase over letting everything fall out into a chaotic heap, then starts refolding your clothes.
“How the fuck is that going to magically make it all fit?” you huff, flopping on the ground at the end of your bed.
“It's not fitting because you're stressed out about it not being able to fit. Suitcases can sense irritation.” He grins down at you, trying to lighten your mood, but you stare daggers at him.
Your glare is more out of habit than genuine annoyance. You lean on his leg while he folds one of your shirts. He chuckles softly as you settle against him, feeling the weight of the stress lift just a bit.
“Are you excited?” he asks, laying the neatly folded shirt in your suitcase and picking up another.
“Yeah…” you say with a heavy sigh.
He raises an eyebrow, pausing his folding for a moment and looking down at you. “You don’t sound like it.”
You shift slightly to get more comfortable against his leg. “I am. Just… it's hard to be excited right now.”
“It’s a long time,” he says softly, resuming his folding. “We’ll both be so busy, it will go by fast.” He places a pair of jeans into your suitcase. “But then you have a week off, and then you only have two shows a week until it finishes out.”
“Yeah…” You turn your head and kiss his knee through his trousers, feeling a little lighter about that prospect.
His smile softens, taking another pause in folding and looking down at you, running his fingers through your hair. “I hate to admit it, but I am a bit excited about someone not pulling the duvet off me in the middle of the night."
“First of all, how dare you,” you laugh, leaning back to look at him with fake indignation. “Second, I can’t wait to sleep diagonally. You’re a bed hog!”
“It’s impossible for me
not
to be! I can’t help it!” He squeezes your shoulder, close to your neck, causing you to scrunch up from the unexpected tickle. “You love it though because it means you get to lay all over me… fucking octopus.”
The corners of your mouth twitch up, starting to smile. “Yeah, you're always so warm,” you say after a beat, your fingers now tracing the inside of his leg.
He chuckles quietly, his hand back in your hair, but before he can say anything there's a knock at your bedroom door and your flatmate's head pokes through the door.
"Er... can we have a quick word?" she asks nervously, her eyes darting between you and Greg.
"Oh, erm, yeah." You get up off the floor and head towards the door.
"Nah, he’s fine," she says, shaking her head, getting you to stay put. "Sorry, I know you're busy so I’ll keep it short... Er, I'm moving out in a couple weeks. Gonna start a new job in Manchester. It's nearer me dad, better pay.”
“That’s fantastic! Congrats!” You smile brightly at her although the news catches you off guard. “I bet he’s excited.”
“Yeah, he’s chuffed.” You can see her nervousness is starting to fade as she starts to smile. “I thought I’d let you know before you head off. Didn’t want you to get back and wonder where the hell I was.”
“I appreciate it,” you say, nodding. “Have you found a place up there yet?”
“Gonna stay with me dad for a bit, probably until the lease is over here. Give you some time to find someone, or somewhere else.” Her eyes glance over at Greg briefly, who gives her a quick smile, clearly sensing that she’s trying to avoid causing you too much additional stress, especially right now.
You take a deep breath and give her a reassuring smile. “Thanks. That’s really helpful. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” Your mind races for a moment, trying to figure out just how you’ll manage finding a new flatmate with your busy schedule, but you push the thought aside for now. “I’d take you out for celebratory drinks tonight, but, er… I’ve got to finish packing.”
“Buy me one next time you're in Manchester, yeah?” She smiles, looking over at Greg who is back to folding one of your shirts with an exaggerated look of concentration. “I’ve got to get some stuff sorted tonight anyway.”
“Deal,” you laugh. “If I don’t see you before I leave, take care and good luck with the new job!” you say, reaching out to give her a quick hug.
“Cheers!” She steps back into the hall and disappears down it.
You sit back down on the bed next to Greg, leaning your head against his shoulder, and let out a slow breath. He places another folded shirt into your suitcase and wraps his arm around you.
“You alright?” he asks softly.
You snuggle into him just a little closer. “I guess I knew we'd eventually not live together—not that I’m here that often—but it will be weird. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for her. She's been saying for the last few years how much she wants to move back closer to home.” You sigh and close your eyes for a moment. “Feels like shitty timing.”
His arm tightens around you pulling you closer. “When's your lease up?”
“A month-and-a-half after the tour ends.” You look down at your hands, scraping non-existent dirt from your fingernails. “But then we'll be in the Lake District, then a few weeks later I’ll be in Edinburgh.”
He rubs your arm reassuringly, and uses his other hand to hold yours, getting you to stop picking at your nails. “People are always looking for a place to stay in London.”
You nod, trying to let his reassurance calm you, but it's not really working.
“For the next month, don’t even think about finding a new flatmate. Better yet, not until after your tour finishes, yeah?” He gives your hand a squeeze. “You’ve got enough going on.”
You lean into him, squeezing his hand back. You stay quiet for a moment, letting everything on your mind roll around. “I don’t know if I
can
not think about it,” you murmur. “I have a hard enough time shutting my brain off normally.”
His thumb traces circles over your knuckles. “I know,” he says softly, “but for now, just let it go. You can’t do anything about the flat while you’re away.”
“It’s not just that, though.”
He leans in and kisses the top of your head, then exhales slowly, as if he’s trying to keep himself grounded in all of this just for you. “I’m going to miss you too.”
You tilt your head slightly, the warmth of his breath on the top of your head is comforting. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know. I don’t want you to go either.” His hand strokes your hair gently. “But you’re going to have a brilliant time. I’m jealous of everyone who gets to see you perform.”
“You’re sweet,” you laugh quietly, snuggling closer to him. “Honestly, I thought you were going to be way more of a wreck than me over this.”
“I think the world can only handle one of us outwardly falling apart at a time. It’s your turn,” he teases, kissing your head again. “Not much left to pack. Should we finish?”
You take a deep breath and sit up a little, pulling away from him slightly and stretching. “Yeah. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can do a month's worth of duvet-stealing in one night.”
He chuckles, his hand warm against your back, clearly relieved to see you lightening up a bit. He grabs a jumper from next to the suitcase and starts to fold it. The two of you work in thoughtful silence for a moment while finishing up. After he puts the last shirt in, you zip the suitcase and move it to the door near the bedroom door.
“I told you it would all fit,” he says, stretching himself out on the bed and pulling you down next to him.
“You did.” You smile weakly and give him a soft kiss.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“No,” you answer honestly, resting your head on his chest. “But I’ll live. You’re right—it will go by quickly.”
You shift under the duvet, yanking it violently to cover yourself, leaving only a sliver for him. His laugh rumbles through his chest as you snuggle closer.
“I think you missed a bit,” he chuckles, tugging the blanket back over himself.
“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly, ignoring his antics.
His hand moves through your hair again, stroking it a few times, and then pulling you closer. “I know, darling.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two weeks later
You glance at your watch:
3:07am.
How cruel it was to be awake at this hour. In just a few hours, your alarm would be dragging you out of bed, and you hadn’t slept at all yet.
You wanted to blame all the hotel stays and takeout for causing your bad sleep over the last few weeks, but you knew they weren't to blame. Not really.
You hadn't properly talked to Greg in over a week. He was busy filming and his breaks hadn't aligned with yours very well. Sporadic texts and voice notes were filling the void, but it wasn’t enough. Missing him was the biggest cause of your most recent bout with insomnia.
You let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, and roll over and pick up your phone, as if looking at a bright screen at this hour was going to magically make it all better instead of definitely making it worse.
Missed Call - Greg Davies
3:03am
It takes a second for you to realise that was only minutes ago. You hold your breath as you call, listening to the rings, hoping that he picks up.
“Hey.” His voice is soft, warm, and a little sleepy. “What are you still doing awake?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you laugh quietly, a wave of giddiness hitting you. “I can't sleep.”
“Me either.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m alright.”
“Alright people don't call their girlfriends at three in the morning.”
You can hear him laugh a little on the other end. “I miss you. I thought if I called and got your voicemail, hearing your voice might make me feel better.”
“Did it help?”
“No,” he admits. “Being away from you… I don't know. It was fine, and then a couple days ago it just hit me how much I missed having you around.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, your throat tightening “I keep thinking I’ll get used to it, but I don't.”
“I was hoping it’d get easier too,” Greg says, his voice laced with fatigue. “I come home and I’m excited to see you, and then I'm met with disappointment.”
“I know what you mean… I keep telling myself it's okay to sleep in the middle of the bed, but I never do. I always end up on my side. And every morning I look over at the empty spot next to me. I don’t like it.”
“The bed feels empty without my octopus wrapped around me,” he replies, the longing in his tone making your chest ache. “I was supposed to be there with you this week.”
“I know… maybe that's what's making tonight so hard.” You sigh heavily, knowing he was thinking the same thing. “How are the reshoots going?”
“Eh, not bad,” he replies, but there's no energy behind his words. “I think everyone can tell I haven't been feeling myself.”
“Maybe tomorrow will be better,” you try to reassure him.
“Yeah… maybe.” His exhale crackles softly through the line. “You had a day off, right? What did you end up doing?”
“Yeah. Off today, show tomorrow. I didn’t do much… Ran the Strathclyde Uni and Necropolis Loop to kind of decompress a little. Went to Kelvingrove for a bit.” You hesitate, the admission catching in your throat. “It would’ve been more fun with you.”
There’s a beat of silence—not uncomfortable, but filled with all the things you’re not saying out loud. You close your eyes, the sound of his breathing on the other end soothing you for a moment.
“Two more weeks and I’ll be back.” You swallow hard. “It’s not that long. Not really.”
He sighs, and you can picture him running a hand through his hair, frustrated by the distance. "I know.” His voice is quieter now. "But then it will be back to this all over again.”
The weight of his words smack you in the chest. Hard. But he’s right. It’s never a one-time stretch of distance—it’s always a cycle that neither of you could avoid.
“But I get it,” he says, his tone tender now. “This... it’s been massive for you. And I’m so proud of you.”
Tears fill your eyes, and you pull the duvet tighter around yourself, wishing it was his arms instead. “I love you,” you say, voice thick with emotion.
“I love you too,” he replies. “So much.”
“I wish you were here,” you admit after a moment, barely audible.
“I’d love nothing more,” he says softly, the longing in his voice evident.
Another pause stretches between you, this one longer than the last. You can feel him holding something back.
“Greg?”
“Yeah?”
You bite your lip, hesitating to ask. “What’s really going on? Why can’t you sleep?”
“You know I'm shit at sleeping without you here.”
“Greg.” Your voice is more firm now, pressing for the truth.
He sighs again, deeper this time, as if he’s been caught. “I’ve just been in my head a bit,” he finally admits, his voice low and raw. “Thinking about every worst-case scenario.”
“You can’t let those thoughts take over,” you say gently, trying to reassure him.
“Easier said than done.” There's a struggle in his voice, the way he’s trying to grapple with his thoughts without worrying you too much. “I—I keep imagining what it would be like if… if things don’t work out. If we get too busy and just drift apart.”
The thought sends a cold shock through you. “Do—do you feel like we are?” you ask, your heart racing.
“No.” He answers immediately but it's followed by a hesitant pause. “I don't. It's so easy to spiral, especially when you're not here. I can't help it.”
You let his words hang in the air for a moment. “I don't want to lose you. Ever,” you say, your voice steady even as your stomach churns at the thought of losing him. “We’re so close. I’ve got two months left on tour, then we'll get some real quality, uninterrupted time, and we’ll be able to do things together out in public soon. These next two weeks are the hardest bit.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice almost a whisper.
“Just two more weeks for now,” you say again to him.
“What—what if we…” he pauses again, as if he's thinking whether he should continue his thought, or not. “What if it all just falls to sh—”
“It’s not,” you say firmly, cutting him off. “It's not going to fall to shit. I won't let it.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. We’ll be fine.”
We’ll be fine
.
The same thing Greg had told you all those months ago. You had said it to yourself over and over since then every time you started feeling anxious.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine.” The weight of the conversation lingers in the air, but the warmth of Greg’s voice offers a surge of comfort.
You take a deep breath, determined to steer the conversation into a more uplifting direction. "Er, you know that horrible selfie you took of us? The one I said we should use for our announcement?”
There’s a beat before he answers, his tone wary. “Yes…”
"I—erm… I know it's a bit old-fashioned, but I keep a copy of it in my pocket when I'm on stage. I know it’s ridiculous—”
His voice cuts in. "You do?"
"Yeah." You can feel a blush creeping up. “I guess… I don’t know… It makes it feel like you’re closer. I love that picture of us.”
“God, that’s not ridiculous at all,” he says, his voice softening further.
You smile, a rush of warmth flooding through you. “It’s just… it helps, you know? I keep it in my bag and just switch it to my pocket before I go out… I thought if you knew, it might help you not feel as worried."
“You should've started with that,” he laughs softly. “It’s very sweet.”
“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a lightness return to the conversation. “And now that you know, you have to keep that in mind whenever you’re feeling all spirally.”
“I promise I will,” he yawns, the sound warming your heart.
“Do you want to go to bed?”
“I do, but… can we keep the call going?” he asks, a renewed sense of calm in his voice. “I feel better than I have in days, but I'm not sure I'm ready to hang up.”
“I wasn't sure if I was ready either,” you giggle quietly. “I’ve missed your voice.”
“I’ve missed yours too. This was much better than listening to a recording of you.” He yawns again. “You've got a long day tomorrow, darling. Get some rest.”
“You too,” you whisper, your eyes getting heavier. “Good night.”
“Good night. I love you,” he says softly.
“I love you too.”
You plug your phone back in and set it on the nightstand. You nestle back into your pillow, your eyes finally heavy. It doesn't take long for you to hear Greg’s breathing even out into a slow, peaceful lullaby that comforts you to sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two weeks later
You stand outside the door to Greg's flat. The last four weeks had been the toughest of the tour so far, possibly of your entire relationship. The last week had been a little easier than the first few, finding more time to talk with him late in the night.
Everything within you is willing your hand to make a move toward the handle, and yet, you feel frozen. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and your stomach churning with nerves from not seeing him for so long.
Just fucking do it.
Your hand finally makes a move, turning the handle and slowly pushing the door open. You step inside, and then close it behind you quickly. Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Greg?” you manage to squeak out.
He pokes his head around the corner from the kitchen and runs over, the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face. He wraps you in his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground. “You're here!”
He sets you down gently, still holding onto your waist as if afraid to let go. “Christ, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs.
“I missed you too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your head buried in his chest.
His hand touches just under your chin, tilting it up so he can take a look at you. Your eyes meet, and he leans down slowly, giving you a soft kiss.
You pull him closer, not wanting it to end. You can feel his laughter vibrating on your lips, and it makes you smile. You pull away slowly, rubbing your nose against his.
“A month of hotels and takeaway looks good on you,” he teases.
“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, pulling him in for another kiss. “I did stop at my flat first. I wanted something to wear that hasn’t been in the rotation for the last month. I washed my hair properly for the first time in over a week. No doubt that has to help."
He rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. “I love how your hair smells. I didn’t realise how much I would miss it.”
“I didn't think I'd miss your pinchy stubble, but here we are.”
He pulls you closer, then starts playfully rubbing his beard on your cheeks. “Is this enough for you?” he laughs.
“What the fuck?” you giggle, pretending to try and escape.
“Do you still miss it?” he laughs again before giving you a quick peck on the lips.
“A little less than before,” you joke as he loosens his grip on you. “Are you cooking?”
“Yeah, I thought you'd like a homemade meal after being gone so long. Spag bol seemed simple enough. Brown the mince, heat up some sauce, boil pasta, put garlic bread in the oven.”
“Oh my god! Garlic bread? You’re the best!”
He pushes your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a second longer. “Are you hungry? I’ve only browned the mince,” he chuckles, “but I can use the kettle so the water boils faster.”
“Well, maybe,” you say, sliding your hands up his chest, “you can hold off on that for a bit?”
He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping across his face.
You lean in closer and pull him down, your lips brushing against yours, igniting a familiar spark between you. “It’s been so long since I’ve just… been with you.”
Greg’s expression shifts, the playful glint in his eyes deepening as he pulls you closer. “Well, when you put it that way…” His voice drops to a teasing whisper, and he leans down, kissing you again, this time more passionately.
You reach for his hand, sliding your fingers between his and leading him towards the couch. You flop down on it next to him and curl up, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling against him. You take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of his cologne and his freshly laundered shirt.
He lets out a contented sigh, his arm draping around you and pulling you closer. For a moment, you both just sit there in near disbelief that the past month is finally over; that you’re actually here with each other. Then you crawl up on to him, straddling his lap.
You place your hand on his cheek, your fingers lightly in his beard. His eyes lock with yours, full of warmth, and there’s a calmness about him you haven’t seen in a few months. His lips twitch into a smile as your thumb brushes against his stubbled cheek.
Without breaking eye contact, he gently places his hands on your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles through your shirt. The warmth of his hands on your waist makes your skin tingle. Your heart flutters with every subtle touch, every lingering brush of his fingers.
His gaze softens, his lips parting slightly as if he's about to say something. But instead of words, he tilts his head just enough to close the space between you, brushing his lips against yours again. This time, it’s slower, deliberate, as if he's savouring the moment.
You pull away, your forehead resting gently against his. “I’m so glad to be back, even if it's just for a week.”
He chuckles softly, his fingers gently running down your spine, making you shiver slightly. “I’m glad you're back too. I don't care if it’s for a week or for a lifetime. I just want to be with you.”
You lean in to kiss him again, slower, savouring the feel of his lips against yours. The pressure of his hands on your waist tightens ever so slightly, pulling you even closer. Your chest presses against his, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart under your hand.
Your hands slide down from his chest, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you deepen the kiss further. Greg’s hands travel lower, pulling you closer, your body now pressed against his in a way that sends a heat rushing through you. You can feel him getting harder beneath you.
“Should we move?” you ask between kisses.
“No,” he replies breathlessly. “We’re fine here.”
You nod, leaning in to kiss him deeply again. Your hands work at loosening his belt. You get off his lap and sink to your knees in front of him, assisting him in getting his trousers and pants down. His cock springs up almost immediately and you lean in to kiss the base of it.
Greg brings his hand to your cheek, directing you to look at him. “You don't have to—”
“What if I want to?”
“I'm not going to last as long as I’d like if you do.”
You kiss the inside of his thigh, then look up at him. “Just let me know when you're close and I'll stop.”
“Yeah… yeah, okay,” he whispers, nodding in agreement.
You wrap your hand around it gently, stroking up and down slowly. You lean in, kissing the base again a few times, then back to kissing the inside of his legs. He breathes out sharply and you can feel him harden, his cock twitching in your hand. You drag your wet tongue up to the tip along the bulging vein on the underside.
You press your lips to the tip, kissing it more, then letting your tongue swirl around it. Finally, you swallow around it, allowing him as deep into your throat as he can go. You cup his balls, putting just the lightest amount of pressure on them exactly how he likes it. Your other hand continues to help stroke him as you bob up and down, your tongue gliding all over his cock.
You glance up at him, pausing just for the briefest moment to flash a cheeky smile, then continue at a steady pace. He laces his fingers in your hair, guiding you gently, groaning with pleasure.
“Oh, fuck, okay…” he rasps after a few minutes. “If you don't stop, I'll come.”
You stop almost immediately, and look up at him grinning again. You start getting back up and lean in to kiss him softly. He chuckles against your lips, his hand weakly stroking down your cheek.
You pull back, stand the rest of the way up, and take a step back to look at him resting there like it's taken every bit of his energy not to come in your mouth. You lock eyes with him and start to undress slowly, allowing him to catch his breath and lose it again all at the same time.
You come back over to him, straddling his lap while on your knees. One of his hands wraps around your waist helping you keep your balance. His other hand caresses your breast, this thumb grazing over your nipple causing your skin to tingle. He kisses your neck and upper chest, his teeth scraping lightly against your collar bone, then kisses across your breast flicking his tongue across your nipple.
He moves his hand down your side lightly, stopping when he gets to your hip. He places it between your legs, letting it slowly graze against your lips. A quiet moan escapes as you bite on your lip. His finger circles your clit a few times before he pushes it into you. You place one of your hands on his shoulder to help keep you upright, and start to rub your clit with your other hand.
Within a few moments, you can feel the heat starting to rise within you. You can feel your thighs starting to squeeze around his hand involuntarily. His hand grips your waist tighter, desperate to keep you upright. The pressure finally releases, becoming euphoria and your body relaxes into him a little more.
“Oh God, fuck,” you pant. “That was entirely worth the wait.”
He laughs then licks his wet finger, getting all your juices off of it. “Do you need a minute, or are you ready to come again for me?”
“I'm ready,” you giggle, giving him a kiss.
He chuckles and kisses you back. His hand slides between your legs again, this time guiding his cock deep inside of you. Both his hands find your waist this time, and he gives you time to adjust to him. You start off slow, rocking your hips against him, pinching your nipples.
“You feel so good.”
“You do too,” he purrs, nipping at your ear.
You laugh softly, now grinding against him faster. You lean forward and kiss him, biting on his lip and moaning against it. His hands move lower, gripping on to your ass, helping you ride him harder and faster. You slide your hand back between your legs rubbing your swollen clit. The hot fiery waves of another orgasm ripple through you and your moans turn louder.
You can feel his fingers digging into you tighter, probably leaving marks on your skin. His body tenses up as everything slows down. He kisses you again, softer this time, then reaches over towards the end table grabbing a few tissues. “Er, here.”
“Thanks,” you say quietly, taking them and cleaning up between your legs. You get off of him and pick your clothes up off the floor before leaning towards him to give him another kiss. “I love you.”
He locks eyes with you, smiling and brushing his hand through your slightly messy hair. “I love you too. We’ll get cleaned up and I'll restart making dinner, yeah?”
You nod and smile before heading down the hall to the bathroom.
When you return, Greg is working over the stove. You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, planting a few kisses on his back. He chuckles, turning his head to glance at you over his shoulder. It's clear to see how much he’s enjoying the attention.
You press your cheek to his back, feeling the warmth radiating through him as you hold him closer. “How much longer?”
“The water is just barely boiling. Maybe fifteen minutes total. Are you hungry?”
“A little. I just wondered if we had time for a few non-sexy couch cuddles.”
He laughs again, adjusting one of the knobs. “Yeah, once the pasta is in. Although probably not that exact spot on the couch. I don't think I got you enough tissues.”
You smile against his shirt, suppressing your laughter. “I’ll get a towel. It can stay there until it’s dried.” You give him a squeeze and head towards the linen closet. You spread the towel out on the couch, then curl yourself up, waiting for him to finish up.
After a few more minutes, he comes over and sits down next to you, handing you a glass of wine. His hand is back in your hair, stroking through it. You take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of his cologne again, but he smells better than before now that it’s mixed with some sweat and the scent of sex. You lean into him, sipping your wine slowly.
“You’re awfully quiet now,” he observes. “Are you doing alright?”
You smile up at him, tracing a finger along his shirt. “Yeah, just… happy,” you say, feeling perfectly content for the first time in a while.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Two weeks later
You wake up to the familiar chime of your phone alarm. You reach over, feeling for it on the nightstand and turn it off, then turn to look at the other side of the bed. Luckily for you, it didn't wake Greg up.
You take a deep breath, mentally preparing to pull yourself out of bed earlier than you’d typically like. You get up and slink to the bathroom, then go to the kitchen.
You place fresh grounds in the coffee maker and start it, then flip on the kettle. You open the fridge and stare at the contents for a second, willing your sleepy brain to remember what you need. Finally, you pull out eggs, bacon, sausage, and some mushrooms.
You set the ingredients down on the counter and start heating up a few pans. You rinse the mushrooms and chop them, then add them to one of the hot pans with a pat of butter. The bacon sizzles as it's added to another pan and starts filling the air with the slight smokey smell.
“Morning.”
The familiar voice startles you. You look up from the stove and see Greg, standing there in just his pants, leaning against a cabinet and smiling.
“Oi! Get out of here!” you laugh, dashing over and trying to push him back towards the bedroom. “You're ruining your surprise!”
“What surprise?” he asks, feigning ignorance.
“Exactly! Go back to bed!”
He grins. “I will if you give me a kiss.”
“I’ll give you a kiss if you promise to pretend to be asleep when I come back in the room.”
He pauses, pretending to think for a few seconds. “Deal.”
You get up on your tiptoes as he leans down, giving him a quick kiss. You pull away, giving him a playful push towards the bedroom. “Now, go!” you say, trying to act serious but failing.
He laughs, and still grinning, turns towards the room. “I’ll be waiting,” he calls out, his voice muffled by the door shutting behind him.
You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you turn back to the stove. The bacon is ready to flip, and the mushrooms are just starting to caramelise. You add the sausages to another hot pan and cover them so they don’t pop all over the place. Once the bacon is crispy, you crack two eggs into the pan, letting them fry up in the grease.
The kettle clicks off, and you pour the water into a mug with a bag of your favorite tea in it, letting it steep while you start plating up his food. When the coffee finishes brewing, you pour it into his favorite mug—the largest one he owns. Everything gets placed on a tray along with a few napkins, the salt and pepper pots, a fork and knife, and your tea. With it all ready, you take a deep breath and carry the tray to the bedroom. He, kindly, left the door open a crack so you wouldn’t have to bother with the handle.
“Happy birthday!”
He rolls over, smiling and rubbing his eyes, pretending to have just woken up. “Oh! This is a nice surprise! Thank you!”
You set the tray down on the bed beside him and sit next to it, crossing your legs. He stretches, his smile growing wider as he looks at the spread you’ve prepared for him. He hands you your tea, then leans over to give you a kiss.
You smile against his lips, letting it linger for a moment before pulling away. “You’re welcome,” you say softly, giving him a playful nudge as he reaches for a sausage. “Even though you almost ruined it,” you laugh.
“I almost always wake up with your legs wrapped around me when you’re here.” He takes a bite and follows it up with a sip of coffee. “How was I supposed to know the one time you’re not, you’re sneaking off to make me breakfast?”
You roll your eyes playfully and scootch a little closer to him. “You could’ve smelled it.”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after finishing a slice of bacon. “Do you want to come with me today? We don't have to hide from anyone backstage.”
You sigh with a hint of disappointment. “I’d love to but I’ve got to go to my flat and take pictures so I can start trying to find someone to move in. I figured while I was there I’d record with Ed. It gives the editor more than a few days to work on the episode.”
Greg nods, the smile fading a little as he reaches for another piece of bacon, though he doesn’t seem upset—just a bit resigned. “Sounds busy,” he says, his voice soft and thoughtful.
You smile at him sympathetically, your fingers brushing against his leg. “It’s just stuff that has to be done,” you say softly. “But I've got to do a few other things for parts two, three, and four of your birthday, too.”
He raises an eyebrow, a grin reappearing. “There’s more?”
“Yeah, I mean… it’s not going to be extravagant, so don't get your hopes up too much,” you laugh. “Some of it's time sensitive or I would've done it yesterday.”
“I'm sure whatever it is will be great.” He leans over to give you another kiss.
After Greg finishes his breakfast, you start washing up while he showers and gets ready to leave. After the dishes, you start packing up your backpack with your laptop and various needed cables.
He comes out of the bedroom and wraps an arm around you from behind. “You sure you can't come tonight?”
You take a deep breath, breathing him in. “I think Ed would have a conniption if I canceled an hour before. Especially if I’m ditching him for you.”
He laughs softly and kisses the top of your head. “He would.”
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.” He lets go of you, then leans down to give you a kiss. “I should head out. I’ll see you tonight.”
You let it linger just a little longer than normal. “Hurry home, okay?”
“I will,” he promises. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
—
The record with Ed ended up going much longer than you had anticipated and you felt a bit bad for the editor having to cut it down so much. Then you had procrastinated cleaning up and taking pictures of your flat by going on a long run through the nearby park. On your way back, you stopped at the chemist to pick up the present you’d ordered.
By the time you returned to Greg’s, it was later than you’d planned. You drop a few shopping bags down on the counter and begin unpacking them. You pull out a box from one of the bags and open it, take out a small cake and place it on the dining table. From another one of the bags, you pull out his present and a birthday card. You quickly sign the card and place the present inside before shoving it in the envelope and placing it next to the cake.
You glance at the clock on the wall and do some mental maths before taking your backpack over to the couch, sitting down, and pulling out your laptop. He would probably be home in the next 45 minutes, maybe an hour, so you needed to order dinner now. You pull up the site of his favourite curry place and order your usuals, but you add an extra order of Peshwari naan as a treat.
You close your laptop, set it to the side, and take a deep breath, enjoying a moment of peace in your semi-chaotic day. It's nice to sit still and not have to think about anything for a bit. You feel yourself starting to nod off when there's a knock.
Your eyes pop open and you rush over to the door to open it.
“Hi, I have a pre-paid Kennington Tandoori delivery for—”
“Yeah, that’s here. Thank you!” You grab the bag of the delivery person and close the door as they head back down the hall.
You set the delivery bag on the kitchen counter and look at your phone. Greg would hopefully be home in the next five or ten minutes. He hadn’t texted saying he was on his way home, not that he usually did, but now you were wishing you had asked him to. But he also hadn’t said he’d be late and it was much more common for him to let you know that.
You open the cabinet and pull out two plates and two wine glasses, then open a drawer and get out forks and knives. You open the bag and start pulling the food out, then hesitate for a second. You didn’t want to plate up dinner and have it go cold waiting for him.
Fuck it. Stop overthinking it.
You continue pulling containers out of the bag when you hear the door open. “Hey, you here?” Greg’s voice rings out.
“In the kitchen,” you call out to him.
“I’m a bit envious of someone in the building. They were getting a late night curry—” He stops when he comes around the corner and starts to grin when he sees you got the delivery.
You go over and pull him down for a kiss. “I told you I had more surprises for you.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he asks, running his hand through your hair, then reaching for your hand and leading you back towards the counter to help finish plating up dinner.
You smile while scraping the last of your curry out on top of your rice. “I wanted to make sure you’d have a good day.” You carry the naan, poppadoms, and chutneys to the table while he carries the plates.
His eyes light up as he spots the cake on the table. “You got me a cake?”
“It's the Victoria sponge with strawberry jam you keep saying you want to get, but then never do,” you laugh, going back to the counter to pour wine. “There's a card too.”
“Do you mind if I open it now?” he asks excitedly.
“Go ahead!” You come back to the table and sit down across from him.
He continues to grin while he opens the envelope and pulls out a generic looking birthday card, but it gets bigger when he sees what’s inside. “This is the same as the one you keep in your pocket on stage?”
“Yeah! Well, your own copy of it.” You reach out to hold his hand and give it a squeeze. “I know you think that picture of us is the worst one we have because it's a bit blurry and neither of us are looking at the camera despite it being a selfie.”
“No, I do love this picture. It’s incredibly silly.” He locks eyes with you. His face is soft, full of love. “Thank you, for all of this today.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to spend more of the day with you.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t be. This has been brilliant!” He gives your hand a quick squeeze, then let's go so you both can start eating. “Tomorrow when you're up in the balcony watching the record, you and I will be the only ones in the whole studio that know that our picture is in my pocket.”
You smile, your heart fluttering. “I'm glad you like it.”
“I love it, darling. I love you.”
“I love you too.”