(no subject)

[peki]

Erika was waiting by the elevator when he swaggered in. She was smiling, and no matter how composed she’d been throughout the day, Tom could see the relief in her eyes now that everything had gone as planned. Her face was relaxed now, soft with tiredness and satisfaction.

“We’ll be okay from here, Michael,” Tom told the bodyguard. “Good night.”

The man waited until the elevator had arrived with a cheery ‘bing’ before he took his leave. Tom and Erika went up to the top floor, where the band had rented out half the available space. The two of them shared a suite, which Tom had only briefly seen that morning before they’d left for rehearsals. He couldn’t wait to get acquainted with the bed now.

The hotel was swank. Even the carpet on the hallway floor was plush and thick; the soles of his sneakers sank deeply into it. Erika wobbled on her high heels, clutching at his arm, and Tom took mercy on her and picked her up, carrying her swiftly down the hall towards their room.

“Oh,” she gasped, “how romantic.”

“You’ll be asleep within five minutes of hitting the mattress,” he prophesied. “Not enough time for romance.”

“I’m not that drunk!” she protested. “I just need to get these shoes off.”

“What is it with you girls and awful shoes?” he asked, amused.

“They looked good, didn’t they?” Tom had to agree that they had. She smiled. “See! And you can give me a foot rub, then I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

“Who am I, your slave?”

“Only if you want to be,” she laughed, and leaned in to kiss him deeply.

Tom staggered and almost dropped her on the carpeted floor. He swayed unsteadily for a few moments until he caught himself and took the remaining few steps to their room. Her lips never leaving his, Erika fished the key card from her ridiculously small handbag and unlocked the door. Tom carried her inside, kicked the door shut with his heel and let them both fall forward onto the large bed.

Erika hit the mattress with a small squeak. Trapped beneath him, she giggled breathlessly when Tom began to kiss a line down her neck, into the vee at the front of her dress. “We have a message.” She pointed at the small, red blinking lamp on the hotel phone.

“It can wait.” He pushed aside her dress with his nose, deeply inhaling the scent of perfume and slightly sweaty girl. He loved the way she smelled. He could never get enough of it.

“What if it’s important?” Her breath hitched when he nudged one nipple with his tongue through the satin fabric. Tom blew at the small, damp spot and felt the tip of her breast tighten and poke at the dress.

“Nothing’s more important than this.” His lips closed around the pert nipple and sucked.

She made a whining noise. “I really should get…that…message.”

Huffing, he drew back and propped himself up on his hands and knees above her. He switched on the bedside lamp, then reached for the phone and put in on speaker, punching in the numbers to retrieve the message from the room’s answering machine. The phone beeped, and then the voice of Erika’s friend Nele spoke up, effectively killing Tom’s arousal. “Oh, great, my best friend!” he muttered.

“Shh.” Erika laid a finger against his lips.

“Sweetie!” her roommate burst out. “I saw you on TV, you looked great! Tell Tom to stop slouching, he looked like an idiot next to you.” She cackled evilly. Now that she and Tom had gotten to know each other, and she’d been able to observe, up close, that Tom treated her friend well, she’d actually turned out to be a decent person - smart, sharp-tongued, and fiercely loyal to Erika. Tom appreciated all of this, even if Nele still took a fair amount of pleasure from needling him every chance she got.

Nele drew a deep, noisy breath. “And I have news for you, girl! Oh, I wish I could see your face! But I can’t wait until you get home, you have to hear this now. You got a letter in the mail today! From the HFBK.”

“Oh my god!” Erika’s hands flew to cover her face. The art school in Hamburg, HFBK, was a well-respected institution; she’d been afraid of a rejection letter ever since she’d put in her application earlier that year. Of course a letter had to arrive while they were away. Tom felt excitement bubble up inside like it usually did just before he went on stage. There was no mistaking Nele’s tone.

“You got in!” Nele squealed. “Congratulations, girl! I knew you’d make it! I’m so happy for you!”

Erika started. She looked up at Tom, wide-eyed with shock. “What?”

“I can’t wait until you get home! Call me tomorrow! Bye!” The call ended.

Tom smiled down at his girlfriend proudly. He cradled her face in his palms and kissed her slack mouth. “Congratulations.”

“Did I really just hear that?” she asked. “Did Nele just say I got in?” The surprise seemed to have sobered her up. Her voice was high with disbelief.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised about this, Cinnamon Buns,” Tom said smugly. “I told you, didn’t I.”

“Yes, but… How would you… I mean, this is just…” She shook her head. “I saw what the other applicants had in their portfolios. I never thought… I’m just not…”

“Yes, you are,” Tom smiled. “You’re brilliant. It’s about time everyone else realized that too.”

Slowly, her expression of shock gave way to one of delight. “I’m going to art school?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“I’m going to paint and draw and sculpt full time?” Suddenly, her face lit up with joy. “Oh my god! My father is going to freak out!”

Tom laughed. “Probably, yeah.” Erika’s mother was an indulgent woman who had been easily captured by Tom’s charm, but he and Erika’s father still hadn’t warmed to each other, although the two men had come to a grudging truce after Tom had promised he’d never spray paint any of the man’s property again. The thought of what he’d say to his daughter taking up the dubious career of an artist made Tom smile. Erika was happy; that was all he needed to know.

“I’m so proud of you,” he told her. He rubbed at the warm, pink spots that had risen to each of her cheeks with his thumbs.

Her eyelashes fluttered. She leaned into his touch like a happy kitten. “I couldn’t have done it without your pep talk.”

Smiling, he put his arms around her and drew her close. He wasn’t a great optimist, but he had an eye for art, and he was nothing if not persistent. Between him and Bill, Tom had always had to be the tempering force to the storm of Bill’s enthusiasm that would’ve swept them both away, more than once, if not for Tom thinking things through. But with Erika, he could be the one to encourage her tentative daydreams; she was a realist, like he, and her modest idea of opening a small art gallery someday excited them both.

“I would’ve told you if I’d thought you had no chance,” he said. “I’d never spare you, baby, you know that.”

“Yes, but… You’re not a sixty-year-old art professor. Who knows what they like.”

“They liked you.” He kissed the crown of her golden head. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Oh, you.” She beamed. “Wow. Wow. I just… I can’t even. This is amazing.”

“It is,” he agreed, swooping back down to resume where they’d left off. “Calls for celebration, don’t you think?”

“Hmm,” Erika made. She wriggled under him deliciously. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting this dress off.”

Tom was all for that. He let her roll him over to his back and watched as she got up and began to unbuckle the thin straps on her shoes, loosened the knot at the back of her neck. She twisted sinuously, this way and that. “Can you unzip me?”

He wasn’t at all opposed to getting in on the action. Smiling, he stepped behind her and slowly pulled down her zipper while she picked the pins out of her hair. It fell down to cover the smooth, bare skin of her back and his hands underneath it. Tom pushed aside the black fabric and ran his hands over her shoulders, enjoying the feel of her warm skin and silky hair.

“Maybe I should get a haircut when I start classes. Something really short and artsy, so I look the part--”

“No!” Tom burst out before he could stop himself. “I mean, it’s your hair, you can do whatever you want, but…” He trailed off when he saw her smirk. “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you.”

She laughed. “Just a little bit.”

“Fucking tease.” He swept her hair aside to bare one shoulder. Her skin tasted just as good as it felt when he kissed her, tongue sneaking out to trace the quick, excited pulse in her neck. “You want to make me insane, don’t you? You always did.” His hands came around her body, pulling the dress away from her chest. It fell down to pool around her feet, revealing long legs, her round little ass in a black thong, and the smooth, tan skin of her gently curving tummy. He cupped her breasts in his palms; they really were the perfect size to fit into his hands. “The first time I ever went over to your house, you didn’t wear a bra,” he reminisced fondly.

“Of course I didn’t,” she giggled. Another thing he’d learned about her in their time together was that she actively disliked bras, or any sort of restrictive underwear, really. As an old fan of baggy clothes, Tom thought that was a sign of a smart person.

“You wanted me to look.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. And it worked, didn’t it?” She arched into his touch. “Who knows, if I’d worn a bra, maybe we wouldn’t find ourselves here now.”

He chuckled. “Your tits are nice, baby, but they’re not the only things I like about you.”

“Hear hear,” she said dryly. “What else do you like about me then? My hair, my boobs…?”

“All the rest. And everything I can’t touch, too,” he told her gruffly.

“Well.” She smiled. “I think I’ll keep the long hair. I can still be an artist without the quirky haircut.”

Tom put his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I knew you’d get in. I knew.”

“You’re biased,” she laughed. “Half of my works are inspired by you. One of the professors asked me if I was a Tokio Hotel fan.”

“And what did you say?” he asked curiously.

“I told him the drawings were of my boyfriend.”

“Still not a fan then?” he teased. Erika had been along to several concerts; she’d even spent one of them among all the fans in the pit at her own stubborn insistence to ‘get the authentic experience’. Michael the bodyguard had almost suffered a nervous breakdown trying to keep track of her, and she’d complained about the bruises afterwards and declared she was never doing that again, but sometimes Tom caught her humming the melodies of their songs while she painted. Overall though, he was glad that she remained unimpressed with the music industry. It was a cutthroat business; although, Tom thought, things had significantly improved now that they were their own bosses.

“I’m your fan,” she smiled. “But that guy on stage is just one side of you. I like the rest at least as much.” She snuggled back into his embrace. “Did you say something about celebrating?”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah.”

“Well, get to it then,” she commanded.

Tom didn’t have to be told twice. He spun her around in his arms and kissed her deeply, walking her backwards while she pulled his t-shirts over his head. Her legs hit the bed, and she lay back on it, sighing with pleasure when he crawled up along her body, pressing kisses to every square centimeter of bare skin before him.

“We’ll celebrate now,” he promised between kisses. “And tomorrow, we’ll all go out together.”

“That’d be nice.” Erika sighed happily. “I could live without the fame, but I really like hanging out with the band. And Janina.”

Tom interrupted his worshipful exploration of her breasts long enough to look up at her. “We belong together,” he agreed. “The four of us - well, the six of us now - we’re family.”

“Seven,” Erika corrected.

“What’s that?”

She smirked. “There’s going to be one more. In about six and a half months.”

Tom went very still above her. “What?”

She laughed. “Relax, it’s Janina. Not me!”

“What? Janina is pregnant?” he gulped.

“Yes.” She beamed. “She’s so happy too. They’ll make great parents.”

Tom gaped. “Does Georg know?”

“Of course! What, did you think she told me before her child’s father?” Erika said. “But don’t say anything yet, I think they’d like to keep it quiet for a little while longer.”

Slowly, Tom began to smile. Georg had always talked about wanting a family someday, and he’d been planning to marry Janina and settle down pretty much since the first day the two had been together. Now it actually looked like all that would work out. It was pretty amazing. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Erika smiled. “Pretty much.”

“Why did I have a feeling this would happen someday?” Georg as a father…it had been a running joke for a long time, but underneath the teasing, Tom had always sensed that Georg didn’t dismiss the idea as readily as he claimed.

Erika kissed the corner of his mouth, drawing him down to rest atop her, chest to chest. “Because you’re more sensitive than you care to admit.”

He huffed softly. “It’s not hard to see how much they love each other. It’s pretty ridiculous, actually.”

“You still think so?”

“Of course. It’s Georg. Everything he does is ridiculous.” Tom cracked a fond smile. “And I’m sure he says the same thing about us, so.”

She laughed quietly. They lay in silence for a while, holding on to each other, while Tom mulled over thoughts of the future. The band would have to stay a little closer to home when Georg had a child, but that could be arranged. They’d have to figure out a more flexible schedule, there’d be new priorities, but that was okay. In the end, the band had always been about family; it was the most important thing of all. Expanding that family was only a new challenge that they’d meet, together.

He stroked Erika’s bare shoulder gently with his fingertips. “Do you ever…” He cleared his throat. He’d gotten better at tackling the difficult subjects, but sometimes, it was still hard. It was a good thing Erika liked it when he didn’t mince words. “I always used to say I didn’t want kids.”

She shifted a little, pushing him back so she could look at him. “But?”

“I’m not sure.” He watched her face carefully. “How do you feel about it?”

“It’s not something we have to decide now,” she smiled. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Tom’s brow furrowed. “I was just wondering. Have you thought about… You know, could you imagine… You and me, I mean, us…”

Her smile turned impish. “Honestly? Yes, I have thought about it. But I’m not even sure we get a say, because Bill has already decided I have to have your babies.”

“What,” Tom said, “what.”

She giggled. “He said something like, he’s not going to have kids so you have to pass on his DNA for him.”

“He didn’t.” Actually, that sounded a lot like Bill’s crazy planning. Tom stared at her, mortified. “Sorry about that.“

She shushed him. “Don’t be silly, it was nice. I mean, who could resist one of his schemes? He has the best imagination, he paints a picture with his words…I could see it when he talked about it.” Tom looked at her doubtfully, and she laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Relax. I’m twenty. Ask me about it again in five to ten years.”

There’d been a time when life had been spontaneous, before the constraints of fame and popularity, the tight schedules and careful planning that came with great success. A plan was a lifeline in times of turmoil, something to cling to when everything around him fell into chaos, the only way to maintain control over his life that was so often governed by outside demands. Over the years, the meticulous preparation of each new day had gone so far as to extend to the clothes Tom wore, each piece carefully matched to the next. Parting ways with Universal, they had regained some of their freedom, and slowly, slowly, Tom was beginning to breathe more easily again.

There was no reason for anxious guessing at the future now, no threats to ward off and no obstacles to overcome that needed careful strategizing. Life was good, and the most successful moves, at the beginning of it all, had always been spontaneous, sheer strokes of good fortune and genius. He could trust his luck, Tom thought as he looked into the smiling eyes of the woman he loved. For once, he’d sit back, wait, and let life surprise him.

It felt like an adventure.

His breath escaped on a long sigh of relief. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Yeah, doesn’t it?” She pressed a kiss to his lips, to his chin, to his jaw that was slightly scratchy with stubble. Her nose nudged up his chin, and he allowed her access to his neck, which she teased with quick, soft little kisses too.

“Hmm,” Tom made, and then his cell phone went off with the high, obnoxious ringtone that Tom had assigned to only one person. He rolled off his girlfriend to dig through the pockets of his jeans, which had slipped even lower down his hips than usual with Erika groping him.

She curled up against his side, nuzzling his neck as Tom picked up the phone. At the beginning of their relationship, she’d been a little surprised when Tom would answer it while they were in bed together, but somewhere along the way she’d realized that he was far more relaxed, and actually more focused during their time together, if he knew he could talk to his brother whenever he felt like it. Tom was glad he’d never had to explain, or been forced to choose. Erika had simply observed, and then fit herself smoothly into the pattern of the twins’ dynamic. Now, she was far too used to it to feel disturbed by Bill’s calls, or his occasional barging in.

Tom smiled. “Hey.”

“Just wanted to say goodnight,” Bill said without preamble. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tom said. “Did you make it back all right?” He always asked, and Bill always told him to go fuck himself, but that wouldn’t make Tom stop worrying about his little brother. He tried to divide his time equally between his girlfriend and his twin, but when he wasn’t with Bill, the least he could do was check on him.

“Of course, Tom.” Bill sounded distracted. “Wow, did you see how many porn channels they have here? Straight, gay, solo, orgies…”

Tom quickly shifted the phone to the other ear so Erika wouldn’t hear as much of the conversation, but the giggle that was muffled against his neck told him there was no hiding things from her anymore; and she knew them both well enough by now to not be shocked by anything. “We’re otherwise occupied.”

“Lucky,” Bill sighed. “I wish I had a hot piece of ass in my bed too. Someone exactly like Erika. Boy-Erika. Erik?”

“Aw, thanks,” Erika cooed.

“You can’t have her.” Tom knew there was no need to point it out especially, but he still liked asserting his claim. “But I’ve got some news you’ll like.”

“What’s that?” Bill sounded distracted.

“Georg’s going to be a father,” Tom said breathlessly into the receiver.

Now he had his twin’s full attention. “Are you kidding?”

Tom laughed. “Do I sound like I’m kidding? Erika just told me, Janina’s pregnant.”

“No!” Bill gasped. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Erika confirmed it again for them both. “And please, guys, let’s keep it quiet for a while, okay?”

“Wow. Wow. That’s crazy. It’s…typically Georg, isn’t it?” Bill laughed. “Someone so clumsy should never be trusted with birth control.”

Tom thought happily of all the daddy jokes in the making, and the funny suggestions for baby names he’d make at the breakfast table. He grinned. “And the day gets better yet.”

“How could it get better?”

Tom stroked his girlfriend’s soft blonde head. “Erika is going to art school.”

He should’ve imparted that piece of news more cautiously; Bill’s squeal was deafening. “What? When? Oh my god, that’s great! I’m so happy for you!” He yelled the last bit extra loudly so as to make sure Erika would hear him. Grimacing, Tom held the phone at arm’s length and put it on speaker, although that was hardly necessary; Bill would make himself heard, no matter what.

“Nele left a message,” Erika explained, smiling. “The letter arrived today.”

“Congratulations!” Bill squeaked. “Oh, you guys! Today’s the best day! I’m so happy! I’ll let you get back to the celebratory sex now.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tom said.

Erika laughed. “No, no! You can come over for a nightcap if you’d like?”

Tom looked at her, appalled. He was happy that she liked Bill as much as Bill adored her - really, he was - but that didn’t mean she had to invite Bill over when things were just getting cozy.

“Hmm,” Bill hummed thoughtfully. “Is Tom making the grumpy puppy face?”

She glanced at Tom and giggled. “Yes.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Bill laughed. “We’ll drink to your career tomorrow morning, okay? I’ll order some bubbly.”

“Sounds good,” Erika agreed.

“Don’t overdo it with the porn now,” Tom said.

“Look who’s talking. Sweet dreams, you guys. I love you! Don’t get pregnant! Tom, call me when you wake up?”

“First thing,” Tom agreed. “Night.” He hung up, satisfied to know that Bill had returned safely, and was about to indulge in some late night fun, too. He put the phone on silent and set it aside. “He’s going to get so into this,” he prophesied. He could already see Bill pick out tiny Baby Dior clothes for Listing Junior to poop into.

“Maybe we should find him a distraction,” Erika suggested. “You know, I have this friend - he’s in my class - really nice guy. Tall, attractive, polite… He likes architecture, interior design… Oh, and in his spare time, he makes those kinky-looking steampunk things. Always wears those clothes too, you know, the brocade waistcoats and gloves and aviator goggles…” She trailed off meaningfully. “D’you think Bill would let me set him up?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Have you thought about this long?”

“A while,” she admitted impishly. “I’ve been watching them both, and I think they’d be so perfect! What do you think?”

Tom pondered the idea. He and Bill still spent almost as much time together as they had before the addition of Erika to their family; they had each other, and they always would, and now Bill had Erika to love and adore, too, but Tom still knew that his twin wished for a partner, someone he could connect with like Tom had with Erika. Sometimes, when they were all watching movies together, Tom would look up from the blonde head that was tucked under his chin, and he’d see Bill watch the two of them with wide eyes full of longing, unable to hide away his envy. He deserved every bit of the same happiness that Tom had found. There was only a small problem.

“You can’t set Bill up,” he told Erika. “That’d go against his idea of spontaneous love at first sight.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “But if I made it happen somehow, so it looked like coincidence… You’d be okay with it, right?”

“Of course. I want him to have someone, too. Just,” Tom sighed softly, “it’s got to be someone we can trust, okay? And don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out, Bill’s hard to please.”

“Oh? But he likes you,” she teased, and was rewarded with a tickle attack that had Tom ending up on top of her, pressing her into the mattress with his weight. “Okay, okay, stop, I’ll be good,” she giggled. Playfully, she nipped at his chin. “And don’t worry, Robert is darling. He’d never go blabbing to the press, he’s not that kind of person. I trust him.”

She trusted the guy, and Tom trusted her. He made up his mind on the spot. “All right. You can try.”

Pleased, Erika smiled. “I think they’ll really hit it off.”

“You know, before I ever even met you, Bill said the same about me and you.” Tom grinned at the memory. “Funny how that works.”

“Aw, really? How did he know?”

“I don’t know,” Tom shrugged. “He’s good at that sort of thing. Perceptive.”

“He’s such a sweetheart,” she said fondly. “I’m so glad you come as a package deal. I always wanted an older brother.”

Tom had to kiss her then; he didn’t have the words to tell her what he felt.

“Hmm,” she purred when they broke apart for air.

“You’re amazing,” he said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if things hadn’t, you know. Worked out this way.”

She touched his face gently with her fingertips. “Aren’t you lucky.”

“Yes,” Tom said in all seriousness.

She grinned. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” He pressed a long, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, sucking her skin between his teeth just long enough to leave a faint mark.

She arched up into him. “I don’t know, I’m feeling pretty lucky too.”

“Hmm. Hang on.” Tom drew back from her, and she let out a low noise of protest.

“Where are you going?” she pouted when he climbed out of bed again.

“I just remembered. I have something for you.” Tom rifled through the pockets of his hoodie, which she’d dropped on the floor when they stumbled in. He took the opportunity to put it on a hanger in the wardrobe, then returned to the bed with the small package he’d found in his pocket. He’d wrapped it himself; it had taken five attempts to get the ribbon to lie straight and flat. Tom was proud of his efforts. The bow’s shade of blue matched the wrapping paper exactly.

Erika smiled when he dropped it in her lap. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” Tom said simply.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Getting into art school. Just a little something to remember this day.”

“How’d you know we’d find out tonight?” she asked, surprised.

“I didn’t,” Tom admitted. “I’ve been carrying that around for three weeks.”

Her eyes were soft. “Oh, Tom--”

He kneeled on the foot of the bed, watching her impatiently. “Open it.”

She shook it lightly, and something rattled a little, inside. “What is it?”

He laughed. “Open it!”

She peeled off the ribbon and paper, taking her time, savoring it. Inside was a nondescript little box. She opened it and laughed. “Thank you, this is just what I needed.” She pulled out the electric pencil sharpener.

“Those are awesome,” Tom grinned. Bill had spent a whole evening sharpening every pencil they owned when Tom had first brought the thing home.

“Uh-hu.” She popped the lid, and something fell out. “Oh, there’s more?” She picked up the small blue velvet pouch with the discreet designer’s label. Her cheeks blossomed with heat. “You shouldn’t have--”

“Open it,” he told her for the third time.

Erika looked at him for a long moment, then opened the pouch. She gasped. The pair of perfect South Sea pearls that fell into her palm was teardrop shaped and shimmered in the dim light. She held up one of the earrings, and he saw that her fingers were trembling. “Oh…”

“Because you liked the Vermeer so much,” he said, suddenly feeling unsure if he’d picked the right thing. He fidgeted at the foot of the bed. “You know, when we were in The Hague.”

Tom had taken her along when the band passed through the city on a wonderfully chaotic, secret club tour, which they’d booked under the glitzy name of Billy Future And The Titillating Trio. The audiences they had surprised with their appearance would never usually have attended a Tokio Hotel concert, and even though Tom still thought that was silly, the little trick had paid off in sales numbers as well as its sheer amusement factor. Once again, they’d been just a band in a rickety tour bus, and the four of them had had a blast on their little road trip through Europe, the girls joining them for a few dates along the way. On a rare day off, Erika had dragged him to see the Dutch Masters at the Royal Picture Gallery in spite of his token protest, and while Tom didn’t care much for 17th century art, watching her face light up as they strolled through the gallery had been well worth the flashback to his school days.

Now, though, she was sitting in silence, the pearl earrings clutched in her palm, and he saw tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. His face fell. “Baby, no.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, I’m so happy.” She wiped at her eyes. “So happy I want to cry.”

“Don’t.” Bill did the same thing sometimes and Tom hated it; but he hated it even more when it was Erika, and he couldn’t gauge, as easily as he could with Bill, how she really felt.

“They’re beautiful,” she sobbed. “And they’re even better for what they’ll remind me of.” She scampered across the bed, and then Tom found himself with an armful of warm, happy girl who was kissing him like there was no tomorrow. “Thank you,” she gasped. “I know you didn’t even like those paintings.”

Tom really hadn’t - they were all skulls and stag beetles to him - but the one portrait that she’d admired so much had stayed with him. It was only fitting that they’d celebrate her future as an artist with a gift that was inspired by a piece of artwork; a piece which was intricately linked with the happy memory of that day they’d spent together at the museum. He smiled. “Try on the earrings.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Tom watched her bounce in front of the mirror, clad only in her skimpy thong, hardly able to contain her excitement. “They’re perfect! And I’m going to art school.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, it’s too much. I feel like I’m going to explode!”

“Come to bed, I’ll help you work off some of that energy,” he coaxed.

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, looking back at him with a smirk. The soft yellow light reflected off the gleaming surface of her pearls. “Hmm.” She hooked her thumbs under the strings of the thong at her hips and peeled the tiny panties off, excruciatingly slowly. “Show me what you got?”

Tom toed off his sneakers and socks, then wiggled out of his jeans and boxers obediently and shoved them over the edge of the bed with his foot. Naked, he lay back against the pillows with his arms folded behind his head and watched Erika watch him, a lusty expression on her face.

“They’ll have us do nudes in art school,” she smirked. “Will you be my model?”

“You should be able to draw from memory by now,” he remarked dryly.

She licked her lips, blatantly staring at his naked body. “Aw, I don’t know. It’s been a few days, my mind’s all fuzzy on the details.”

“Time to get reacquainted then.” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

This was the first night they’d be able to spend together in a week. There had been band rehearsals, for which they’d come to Oberhausen a few days ahead of the show, while Erika had been occupied at home with term papers and trying to smooth things over with her parents, who were not happy about their daughter attending something as frivolous as a Comets afterparty. There had been increasingly intimate phone calls, but no time for actual closeness save for a quickie in the ridiculously tiny shower stall at her flat five days ago, and Tom was more than ready for a night of lovemaking.

When she came to him, he enfolded her in his arms, her naked body rubbing up against his, skin to skin from chest to toes. Erika breathed deeply, calmly with pleasure. “I missed you.”

It was hard to be without her now that he’d gotten used to having her around always. The band still travelled a lot, and she led a busy life between school, her friends and family and her art, but they’d become good at making time for each other, making their time together count. There had been long stretches of work and touring and band time, but at the end of almost every day, Tom found himself at Erika’s doorstep, eager to share her bed and her too-small room where he knocked his head on the ceiling, and the smaller and larger worries of their lives, which they discussed in hushed tones while they cuddled under her pink coverlet, basking in the afterglow of yet another joyful reunion. It was impossible not to like this life, for all Tom had made fun of Georg when he’d chosen it.

He smiled. “I missed you. I missed this.” His hands were busy feeling her up. He squeezed one breast gently in his large palm and was rewarded with a low moan. “I missed your creaky bed and the paint stains on my clothes and the way you steal the duvet at night--”

“I only steal it back,” she laughed. “And my bed never creaked until you started sleeping in it.”

“I don’t think it’s the sleeping that’s the problem, Cinnamon Buns.”

“Probably not.”

“Complaining?”

“I wasn’t. You were.”

“I wasn’t complaining.” He kissed her smiling mouth, licking at her full, pink lower lip until she allowed him entry. Their tongues tangled sweetly, a promise of all that was to come. “Wanna see if we can make this bed make noise?”

“Show-off,” she giggled. “Other people are trying to sleep, you know.”

“Fine. Did you see the bathroom?” His lips moved over the warm skin of her shoulder, and she shivered under his touch. “There’s a hot tub.”

“I still have bruises from the faucet at my place,” she told him. “No more sex in the bathroom! At least for this week.”

He chuckled. “It was worth a few bruises though, no?”

“A few bruises!” She pulled away indignantly. When she brushed her hair over her shoulder to show off her back, he saw the bruises left and right of her spine, large and purple. “You never even kissed them better.”

“I’m sorry.” Guiltily, he stroked a hand down her back. “Do they still hurt?”

His serious tone made her drop the act at once. She stopped pouting and smiled at him. “No, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be more careful with you tonight,” he promised.

She looked back at him through the long blonde strands of her hair, and suddenly, he could feel the air crackling around them again. Slowly, slowly, she lowered herself so she was on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass at him. Her voice was low and husky. “And what if I don’t want you to be careful?”

There was only one way to respond. He leaned over her and pressed a long, warm kiss to each bruise. Then, without warning, he plunged two fingers inside her from behind. She spat out a curse, pushing back at him with her hands braced firmly against the headboard of the bed. She was hot and slick already with a week’s pent-up desire and the euphoria of their first night out in public, and when he drew back his hand, she hissed like an angry cat, frantic and needy all of a sudden. “Don’t stop!”

Tom watched her for a few moments: the long, smooth line of her spine, the hair that hung over her shoulders like liquid gold, the glowing, pink skin and perfect, gentle slopes of her curves. He touched himself leisurely, her wetness on his fingers easing the strokes of his hand along his shaft. “Have I ever just stopped?” he asked, amused. “Do you think I could?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“So shut up and let me take care of you, okay?”

Erika turned her head; her eyes smoldered with blue fire, hotter than hot. “Your brand of romance is incomparable.”

“You love it.” He kept stroking himself as he reached out to touch her again. The moan he drew out of her while he worked her open was louder than the first, and he twisted his fingers inside her to find that perfect spot that made her back arch and her legs tremble underneath her. There was nothing like the sight of her like this: spread out before him, quivering with a desire that he alone could arouse, impatient and just a little wild as she pushed herself back on his fingers. For a moment, he let her have what she craved, let her control the rhythm and watched her chase her pleasure like she was riding the waves of the storm-tossed seas, her hips rolling and swaying, the current sweeping him up and along.

He nudged her legs apart to kneel between them. “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, yes,” and then she didn’t say anything anymore; she breathed quickly, harshly, with anticipation, and Tom could feel goosebumps rising all over her skin as he grabbed at her hips. He fit himself at her entrance and slid inside her smoothly, so attuned to her little moans and sighs by now that he didn’t have to ask what she wanted.

Pleasure rippled through him with the first deep thrust. He let his head fall back on his shoulders, his eyes screwed shut, mouth working soundlessly with the blissful relief of finally being with her again. It had been too long; only a few days, and yet an eternity. There was no such thing with her as too much, too close; this, right here, was only just enough to take the edge off the need, but never satisfy it completely. She was his curse and his blessing, the fever in his blood and its only cure. She was his everything; his Erika.

He shoved his hips forward forcefully and felt her meet his thrust with one of her own. She tossed her head, and her hair slithered over her back as if it had a life of its own. Unable to resist, he wrapped the long strands around one fist, tugging a little until she made an angry noise and clenched around him hard, throwing off his measured rhythm. All air left his lungs at once; he jerked forward, clumsy and uncoordinated, before he managed to regain control of himself. “Fuck!” He smacked her ass lightly, and she twisted around to look at him, triumph in her eyes.

She was his, but he was hers, too. The truth had never been anything less than that, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her on that stormy autumn day, when she’d drawn him in, moth to the flame, to never let go again. It was simple, but that didn’t mean it had been easy to understand. Right then, as they gazed into each other’s eyes, it was nothing less than the meaning of life; his life, their life together.

No words were needed to express what he felt. He could show her with each gentle caress of the bruises on her back, each soft kiss that he breathed over her skin, leaning over her to bring them closer. She rose up to meet him, fingers curling around the edge of the headboard to push back against his hard body. Tom wrapped one arm around her hip, keeping her steady, his palm pressing down gently on her lower belly, as his thrusts became quicker, rougher. He dipped one finger down between her soft, slick folds to stroke her in time with the rhythm of his thrusts, and felt her convulse around him erratically. She cried out, and he grabbed at her hips to hold her for him as he pushed inside her hard a few more times before the pull of her orgasm triggered his own.

Her knees gave out under her. She collapsed face-first into the soft cloud of the duvet, giggling and breathless, a sweaty, undignified heap of slender limbs. Tom pulled out of her wetly and slumped forward, next to her. He stroked her back gently until their harsh breathing had calmed with the soothing motion.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said into the comfortable quiet.

“I’m glad I’m here too.” She roused herself enough to lean in for a sweet, sloppy kiss. “My bed feels lonely now without you in it.”

“We’re going back into the studio soon.” The new singles they’d released had only been the beginning. It was time to prove to the world what Tokio Hotel could do. “I’ll be home all the time.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Then I can finally teach you to make a proper tomato sauce.”

“My pasta sauce is great,” Tom protested.

“The only thing that’s great about it is watching you make it.”

She was probably the only person who could get away with saying that. Tom grinned at the irreverence. There were few people he could trust to be honest with him; she was one, and he was glad there was nothing between them now that was not the whole truth.

Smiling beatifically at him, she stretched slowly, her small fists punching the air like she’d just won a major competition and he was her prize. “I didn’t bring any pyjamas. Can I borrow some of your clothes?”

“You don’t need pyjamas,” he leered.

“It gets cold at night when you steal the duvet.”

Smiling, Tom put his arms around her and held her close. “You know you can have anything you want from me, baby.”

“I don’t know what else I could possibly want,” she smiled. “I have everything now.”

“Everything?” he asked softly.

Erika nodded. “I’m happy.” She tugged at a lone dreadlock that had come loose from his ponytail. “How about you?”

He caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her warm palm. “Same,” he said simply.

Laughing, she climbed out of bed and made her way over to the bathroom, picking up their discarded clothes as she went. She flipped the light switch, and with the lamps, the radio came on in the bathroom. It played a slow song of heartache and longing, of raw need and its ultimate consummation, a song that had been at the top of the German charts for weeks now. It was the melody that had come to Tom on a sleepless night almost a year ago, as he lay in bed and thought with impossible longing of the one he loved, the one he could never have. The one that stood before him now, playing almost shyly with her hair, and smiled at him so gently.

“They’re playing my song.”

Heat rose to his cheeks. “They are.”

“It’s a sign.” A smirk stole over her face. “Wanna come check out the hot tub after all?” She beckoned him towards her, and Tom went to her readily, meeting her lips to the slowly-building crescendo of the love song he’d written for her. It had been their beginning; now, the future lay ahead of them.

Tom could hardly wait.