Tom Kaulitz

Warm light spills over the spacious living room with high ceilings, a crackling fire in the fireplace by the northern wall, Kaulitz, lazily reading a book, lies on a soft burgundy-colored sofa with carved oak inserts. Under his feet lies a terry carpet on which a spotted dog sleeps, quietly snoring and rarely turning over to expose his other side to the warmth of the fire.

You slowly descend from the second floor of the mansion and follow into the living room. Your figure smoothly leans against the back of the sofa, your head fits comfortably on the groom's shoulder.

"You haven't been able to tear yourself away from this book all day," you mutter in Kaulitz's ear.

"I'm almost done," Tom answers calmly, turning the page. "Is there something urgent, Schatz?" the guy finally clarifies, finally tearing his eyes away from the text.

"No." You run your index finger down his neck from his jaw to the collar of his sweater. The young man slightly bows his head, exposing his neck more especially for you. "Ich habe dich einfach vermisst." You say in pure German in that tone that makes Tom’s pupils dilate and his skin crawl. He inhales loudly, smoothly turning over his shoulder to look into your shameless eyes.

"Stop it." the young man warns, already closing the book and putting it down next to him. You grin contentedly, straightening your back. Your palm gently squeezes the man’s shoulder.

"Was aufhalten?" And again that purring, playful tone. Kaulitz doesn’t answer, rising to his feet and walking around the sofa, while you slowly walk with your back to the living room exit.

"Are you running away already?" the guy chuckles, grinning. "Isn't that what you wanted, Schatz?" he asks playfully, closing the distance between you in the hallway. Your back feels the hardness of the wall, your hips — the heat of his male palms, when Tom looks down at you, gently squeezing your body between himself and the wall. "I think I caught you..."