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“Welcome to Liverpool, gentlemen. Florian, first question: how does it feel to be joining a club with such a distinguished legacy at such a pivotal time?”
Florian smiled; not the polite, rehearsed smile he’d been taught in PR training, but a real smile, one that had cameras flashing across the room like applause. “It’s an honor,” he says, voice smooth as ever, “an incredible honor. Liverpool is a club that demands the best, and that is the kind of challenge I want to face. I have spent my whole life preparing for a chance like this, and to be given it this early in my career is something I won’t take for granted.”
The reporters grin at the answer, their pens moving frantically as they jot down his words.
And yet, even with the commotion of the busy room, the German can’t help but glance over, eyes catching the way Jeremie’s fingers flexed against the table, how the younger player’s jaw clenched and unclenched, a tremor jolting through him as Flo answered.
To others, perhaps it would be missed, an unperceivable tic. But to Flo, it was a sign.
“Fantastic, thank you so much. And, of course, many are calling you the signing of the summer, Florian. How do you feel you are handling those sorts of expectations?”
The reporter’s impossibly Scouse voice is undeniably humorous to a foreign ear— ‘seinin of the summa’— and Florian suppresses a smirk.
He glances back to the side, back to Jeremie. The man’s eyes were still glued downward, darting from the microphone to his nameplate to the cords tangled beneath his feet.
“Pressure is part of the job,” the German shoots back with a shrug, “To be a footballer, you cannot just handle pressure, you have to use it. The passion of the fans, the chants, all of it, you use it to keep you going. It makes it all feel worth it, in the end, because you’re playing for something greater than yourself.” He spots Jeremie nodding slightly out of the corner of his eye, a strained, tight-lipped smile plastered on his face. For a man who was constantly grinning ear-to-ear, an eternal ball of energy, he doesn’t seem particularly overjoyed as the cameras pan over to him.
Florian recognizes it, that tension— he recognizes the way Jeremie’s shoulders tense up, his clenched fists folding in his lap to hide them from sight. If he could, if their chairs were closer and the cameras weren’t pointed on them, he’d reach over and give his arm a squeeze, shoot him a small smile.
But he can’t.
“Jeremie, joining a team of superstars like this Liverpool side have, how do you see yourself fitting in? Do you think joining alongside a talent like Florian Wirtz helps with that?”
Jeremie nods instinctively, clearing his throat before speaking into the microphone. “Uh, yeah,” he murmurs, “yeah, I mean, Liverpool’s such a great team, I think there are so many people I can learn from, y’know. And, of course, Florian and I, we compliment each other well. I think it’ll help having that bond going into the- the season, yeah.”
This time, Florian’s sure he’s not the only one in the room who picks up on the tremor in Jeremie’s voice, the hesitance in the words. The reporters’ pens begin to move once more.
“Yeah,” Florian adds, “I think Jeremie has such a unique talent, and brings a lot of quality to any team. His energy, his determination, it’s the kind of thing every team needs,”
Jeremie’s fists unclench just slightly, his eyes finally glancing over to where Florian sits. He manages a small smile, before looking over at the blank wall to his other side.
This would usually be about the time Jeremie would crack a joke or make a quip, break the ice a little, crack the tension— But he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares.
And, god, how Florian wants to reach over, to steady the man’s bouncing knee and muster up a smile that has him grinning like himself again. It would be so easy any other time, except now.
The press conference continued, but Florian’s focus remained partially on Jeremie, mentally cataloging his small tells: a shallow breath, a tightening jaw, a flicker of doubt across dark eyes. To him, it’s impossible to miss; to everyone else, it’s anything but.
Eventually, the press conference winds down, ending in a flurry of clicks and flashes and shouts of ‘one more, sorry, one more!’
It doesn’t take long for security to help the journalists file out of the room, down the hall, and out of sight— either side of the players, their press officers stay seated, gesturing for the pair to do the same. It’s routine, familiar— though Jeremie’s behavior still remains the opposite.
Once the energy of the room has gone, the voices faded and the flashing subsided, Jeremie is the first to stand. His hands are pressed deep in his pockets, his eyes darting to one of the remaining security guards before slipping out from behind the table and into the hall.
Florian exhales through his nose as he watches Jeremie leave, his body moving with the stiffness of a man trying not to break into a sprint.
He stands quickly, brushing an invisible crease from his club-issued jacket before slipping out the same door and peering into the hall.
Once outside, the German peers around at the walls. The hall stretches long, carrying an uncannily sterile aura, bright white lights reflecting off glossy floors. Jeremie walks ahead at a pace just shy of a jog, hands still buried in his pockets. When Flo spots him, he's halfway down the corridor already, shoulders hunched like he's trying to disappear into himself.
"Jeremie," Flo calls, voice even.
The man stops mid-step, turning only his head to look over his shoulder. His gaze lands on Flo, eyes entirely unreadable, before dropping to the floor.
Florian moves toward him, slowing as he approaches. Jeremie's face remains half-turned, eyes caught between looking at Florian and at the smooth tiled floor.
"You okay?" Flo murmurs, voice quieter now.
Jeremie exhales through his nose, shifting his weight from foot to foot before finally turning to face Flo fully. His jaw works silently for a second before he manages a chuckle— too forced, too light.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just.. you know. Big day. Tired." His words come out fast, like he's trying to convince himself more than anything else. Flo steps closer anyway, tilting his head just slightly.
"You sure?" He studies the younger man's face, unable to keep himself from spotting the tightness in Jeremie’s jaw.
The Dutchman hesitates, then shrugs. "Yeah, man. I mean, it's just a press conference, right?"
He speaks like he's trying to sell it, but his fingers twitch inside his pockets, betraying him. Florian watches the restless energy in his posture, the way his weight continues to shift.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the German’s hand darts out.
"Stop biting your tongue," Florian murmurs, grabbing hold of Jeremie’s jaw.
The second Jeremie feels Florian's fingers on his skin, his body goes rigid. For a second, it's as if the world has paused around him, all the noise of the hallway vanishing. The contact is so brief, so light, but it sends a jolt straight through him. He inhales sharply, his breathing faltering. He can smell the cologne Flo must have put on this morning, the faint scent of decaf that still clings to his skin.
His eyes snap up to meet Flo's, startled and uncharacteristically unguarded. The taller man’s expression is steady, calm, but there's a heat in his gaze that makes Jeremie's pulse stutter.
It's odd, seeing Jeremie like this-- his laughter gone, the lighthearted humor that usually marked his presence entirely absent. Flo's thumb brushes lightly across ebony skin, and for a moment, the world falls away. It's just the two of them, in a far too bright hallway in Anfield, the silence now stretched taut.
Jeremie's heart pounds in his chest as Flo's touch sends sparks through him. His breath catches, and he finds himself leaning ever so slightly into the touch, his eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opens them again, Flo's gaze is still fixed on him, searching, as if trying to peer into his very soul.
"Flo," Jeremie manages to say, his words sounding rougher than usual. "I.."
Nothing. He's got nothing. Not a single word comes to Jeremie's mind, his usual easy confidence evaporated, leaving him feeling raw and exposed in a way he hasn't felt in years.
Finally, slowly, Florian releases his hold on Jeremie; and, within the blink of an eye, the older man stumbles back as though startled. Jeremie's breath shudders out of him as Florian pulls back, the sudden absence of contact like a physical blow. His skin still tingles where Florian had touched him, his lips parting as he stares up at the older man.
The Dutchman sucks in a shaky breath, gaze dropping to the tile floor with a shuddering exhale. "It's not-- I'm fine. It's just.. different. But I'll get used to it."
Florian's lips part slightly as he watches Jeremie struggle to regain his bearings. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out again, but something in the older man's rigid posture warns him not to. Instead, he tucks his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels before exhaling slowly.
"Different," he echoes, voice quiet in the sterile hallway. His eyes flick over Jeremie's face, noting the way his lips press together, the way his breathing is still uneven. "Different how?"
Jeremie rubs at the back of his neck again, continuing his subtle shifting of weight from one foot to the other.
He shrugs his shoulders, murmuring out a low, "I.. I dunno. I guess it's just.. kinda hard, being an afterthought. The bonus."
Florian's brow furrows, his head tilting slightly as he studies Jeremie. There's no anger in his words— just a quiet resignation that twists something deep in Florian's chest.
“Come here,” He murmurs, turning towards a small side door. He steps forward, pulling the door open and holding it there, letting Jeremie step inside before following behind.
It’s a small, though not tiny, storage room— good enough, Florian decides.
"You're not an afterthought," he finally says, voice firm. He moves closer to the Dutchman, but not enough to touch. Not yet. "Not to me."
Jeremie's eyes snap back to Flo's face, surprise flashing across his features. His usual quick wit falters, and he's at a loss for words. The words echo in his mind, settling into the hollow crevices inside him.
Flo's hand reaches out, hovering just above Jeremie's shoulder as if unsure whether to make contact. Jeremie's eyes track the movement, his breath catching in his throat.
And when he nods, it's so subtle that he himself almost misses it. Florian sees it, though, letting his hand rest on the smaller man's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Jeremie exhales shakily, shoulders lifting slightly with the movement. He looks away from Flo, gaze dropping to the floor again, but not pulling away. His fingers flex at his sides, curling and uncurling, the phantom heat of Flo's touch on his face still burning beneath his skin.
"I don't like it," he admits, his voice quieter now. "Being seen as.. secondary. It's not new. I've always been the guy they look past." He lets out a short, humorless chuckle, gesturing to the smaller-than-average stature his body possessed. "It just feels different this time, I guess. It's selfish."
"It's not." Florian counters, eyebrows still narrowed, "It's not selfish at all."
Jeremie sighs, reaching up and dragging his fingers through the slightly-grown stubble on his chin, lingering for a moment on the spot Florian had grabbed him. "I don't know," he breathes out, "It's just.. this was it. The biggest thing that's happened in my career. And I.. It's not really about the attention, I know that, but when the biggest thing in your life is the second most important thing in everyone else's month, it just.."
He trails off, but Florian understands— or, at least, he understands as best he can.
His jaw tightens. He hadn't expected this level of doubt from Jeremie, a man usually so self-assured. Because this— this unguarded vulnerability, the way his fingers keep twitching like he wants to do something but doesn't know what— it catches Florian off guard.
When the German speaks, he does so quietly. "You're here because you're talented,” he murmurs, though his voice remains firm, “Because you're good. And I don't think you're secondary at all."
Jeremie huffs out a breath, shaking his head slightly. "It's not about being good enough. I know I am. It's just.. fuck."
His words crack as he lets out a frustrated groan. His fingers curl into his training top, gripping the fabric as though grounding himself.
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Flo says, speaking steadily despite the storm swirling in Jeremie's eyes. His hand on Jeremie's shoulder squeezes gently, almost possessively. "Especially not to me."
Jeremie's breath stutters. He looks up sharply at that, meeting Flo's gaze with an expression caught between disbelief and something softer, more hopeful. His throat works as he swallows hard.
Flo watches as Jeremie's Adam's apple bobs, watches the way his pupils dilate slightly when he speaks again. "That's not.."
Of course, he can't finish that sentence— he's never been a good liar, after all.
Because Jeremie was desperate to prove himself. To teammates, to fans, to coaches— it's why he'd found humor: everyone liked the guy in the locker room cracking jokes, everyone wanted to be friends with the guy who never took anything seriously. It was easy.
But this was different. It wasn't about being likable or popular or even being a good player— this was about something deeper, something more primal. The need to be seen. To be wanted.
Florian sees it all on his face— the longing, the vulnerability, the hesitation that wars with the need to be believed. And something in him shifts, some primal instinct stirring to life. He moves closer, crowding Jeremie against the wall. One hand braces beside his head, caging him in, while the other grips his chin, tilting his face up.
Jeremie's breath comes faster now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares up at Flo. His lips part slightly, and for a moment, neither of them speak.
"You are important," Flo murmurs, rough and low. "To this club. To me."
That last word comes in a voice at least two octaves lower than those spoken before it, the rumble of Florian’s voice prompting shockwaves to shoot off in Jeremie’s chest.
The words sink into Jeremie's skin like warm water, flowing through him, melting the ice that had begun to settle in his chest. He inhales shakily, fingers twitching at his sides before finally, finally. lifting to rest against Florian's waist. His touch is light, uncertain, but he doesn't pull away.
Florian's thumb brushes over Jeremie's cheekbone again, this time slower, more deliberate. The Dutchman's skin is warm beneath his fingers, his breath coming in shallow pants that Florian can feel against his palm.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Flo murmurs. Jeremie's lips part, but no sound comes out. His fingers curl slightly against the other man’s shirt, gripping just enough to anchor himself in place. His pulse hammers in his throat, right where the German’s thumb still strokes so gently.
Flo doesn't move, doesn't push, just waits. And the patience in that— in the absolute certainty with which he watches Jeremie, the way his breathing remains steady even as his pupils dilate— does something dangerous to the Dutchman’s self-control. He should pull away. Should say something light, something dismissive. Should retreat behind the mask he'd perfected years ago.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he leans up, shifts his weight forward, and crashes his lips over Florian's.
The kiss is desperate, hungry— all the words Jeremie doesn't know how to say poured into one frantic action. His hands fist in Flo's shirt, dragging him closer, and Florian responds immediately, one arm wrapping around Jeremie's waist to pull him flush against himself. The groan that vibrates through Flo's chest is muffled against Jeremie's mouth, his fingers digging into the curve of his back, arching his body further toward the German's chest.
For a second, all that exists is the press of lips, the scrape of teeth, the desperate slide of tongues. Jeremie's mind blanks, his body alive with sensation, with need.
But then reality floods back in. The sterile hallway, the risk of discovery, the sheer audacity of what he's just done.
And Jeremie tears himself away, breath coming in short gasps, lips still tingling. Florian's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, his grip tightening for a second before relaxing. His lips part slightly, still swollen from the kiss.
Jeremie swallows hard, his throat dry. His fingers flex at his sides, twitching with the urge to pull Flo back in.
"Shit," he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I— this-- I shouldn't-- I'm sorry. I'm--" He can't get a sentence out, his mind a mess of broken thoughts, frantic regrets, and adrenaline.
Florian exhales sharply through his nose, his grip loosening on Jeremie's back but not releasing him entirely. His thumb brushes along Jeremie's hip almost absentmindedly, like he's not quite ready to let go. His other hand remains pressed against the wall beside the Dutchman’s head, caging him in without effort. His breathing is just as ragged as Jeremie's, his face flushed beneath his tan skin.
"That doesn't sound like someone who regrets anything," he murmurs, rough and low.
Jeremie makes a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a whimper and a groan. His hands lift slightly before pressing back against Flo's chest, not pushing away but not pulling closer either. "Fuck," Jeremie mutters again, shaking his head slightly. His fingers curl into the fabric of the German’s shirt, bunching it slightly. "You don't understand."
Florian tilts his head, his dark eyes searching Jeremie's face with unsettling intensity. "Then explain it to me."
Jeremie exhales shakily, his pulse still thrumming visibly in his throat. He hesitates, weighing his words carefully before speaking. "I'm not.. I don't.." He swallows hard. "I can't afford to be reckless. Not here. Not now."
Flo's face remains unchanged, but his fingers twitch against Jeremie's hip. "That's the only reason?"
The Dutchman shakes his head, slipping free of Florian's grasp and stumbling sideways. "No— you don't understand. You can't. You're fucking untouchable, Flo, you're the hundred-fifty-million pound star— you can do anything. I'm not. I can't. If I fuck this up, I.. I'm.." He swallows, hard, forcing back the tears pricking at his eyes.
Florian's features soften, but his jaw tightens. He steps closer, closing the space Jeremie just created between them. "So that's it?" he says, quieter now. "You think you're disposable?"
Jeremie flinches at the words, his throat working around the lump forming there. He hates how easily Flo can see through him, how he never lets him hide behind jokes or bravado. It's terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
"Not— not disposable," he finally manages, his words strained. "But.. replaceable." He rubs at his temple, exhaling sharply. "If I get too emotional, too needy, too anything— people think I'm weak. And if I'm weak, I'm useless, and if I’m useless, I get replaced." His fingers curl into fists at his sides. "That's what I'm saying, Flo. I can't afford to be seen as someone who needs to be held together."
Florian's hands twitch at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for Jeremie again. He watches him with an intensity that burns, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"Is that what you think this is?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. "Me holding you together?"
Jeremie's breath hitches. He glances away for a second, unable to meet Flo's gaze head-on. When he does, he speaks with hesitant whispers. "Aren't you?"
Florian exhales through his nose, frustrated. He moves forward, a hand coming up to cradle Jeremie's jaw and tilt his face back up.
"Jeremie," he says, voice rough with something restrained. "You don't need me to hold you together. You've never needed that."
Jeremie's breath catches, his pulse jumping under Flo's thumb. He should pull away. He should shut this down before it becomes something he can't control. But Flo's words sink into him like heat, wrapping around something raw and vulnerable in his chest.
"Then what is this?" he asks quietly, not daring to move.
Florian studies him for a long moment, his thumb moving gently along Jeremie's cheekbone. "Does it matter?" he asks finally, his words quiet but rough. "You're important to me. That doesn't change."
Jeremie's breath catches, his heart thundering in his chest. He searches Flo's face, but finds nothing more than a quiet, steady intensity that makes his skin tingle. He swallows hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before finally, hesitantly, moving to rest on Flo's waist.
"I don't know what to do with that," he admits, his words barely above a whisper.
Florian's hand slides from Jeremie's jaw to the back of his neck, a gentle, lingering pressure. "Then don't do anything," Flo murmurs. "Just.. let it be what it is."
Jeremie's breath hitches again. He can feel the warmth of aFlo’s hand at the nape of his neck, the strength in those fingers.
He should retreat. He should shut this, all of this, down before it spirals beyond his control.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he lets out a shaky breath and moves closer, resting his forehead against Flo's shoulder.
Florian doesn't hesitate. His arms wrap around Jeremie immediately, pulling him close, holding him steady. He rests his cheek against the top of Jeremie's head, exhaling a soft sound that might almost be relief.
It's a protective embrace, sure, but not an overbearing one. It isn't condescending or suffocating, but instead a silent promise. Of belief. Of respect.
And, to a man so long guarded by a shield of laughter and nonchalance, it is unbearably uncomfortable.
Jeremie exhales shakily against Flo's shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He should push away. Should say something flippant to diffuse the moment. Instead, he stays there, his breathing uneven, his heart hammering against his ribs. And he lets himself be uncomfortable.
Florian holds him without urgency, one hand smoothing up and down his back in slow, steady strokes. It's so gentle, so measured, that Jeremie can’t help it when he feels his throat begin to tighten.
"You're shaking," Flo murmurs, his words rough but calm.
Jeremie swallows hard. "Just.. a lot to process."
Jeremie stiffens, the question landing like a gut punch. His lips part slightly, but no words come out immediately. His eyes flicker between Flo's and the wall over the German's shoulder, searching for an answer he doesn't know how to give.
"You think I don't see it?" Flo continues, voice softer now. "How you laugh when you're uncomfortable? How you make yourself the joke first before anyone else can?"
Jeremie's fingers tighten in Flo's shirt, his breath coming faster. "I don't—"
"You do," Flo interrupts, his eyes locked onto Jeremie's. "It's not about me, is it? It's about you. You don't believe that anyone would care enough to fight for you."
Jeremie's throat tightens. He can't look away from Florian's gaze, can't find the words to deny it. Because deep down, in a place he doesn't acknowledge often, he knows Flo is right. And it terrifies him.
"I don't—" He swallows hard, voice strained. "I don't know how to do this." And then, an octave lower, "I want you to kiss me."
Florian inhales sharply, the sound catching in his throat. His dark eyes flicker with something hot and dark as they trace Jeremie's face— lips parted, pupils blown wide, skin flushed from emotion and proximity. For a moment, he doesn't move, as if he's weighing something unspoken.
Then his hand slides from Jeremie's waist to his jaw, fingers curling gently but firmly. He tilts Jeremie's face up just slightly, and his thumb brushes over the sensitive skin below his lower lip.
"You don't get to say things like that and then walk away," he murmurs, his words rough.
Jeremie's breath hitches, his heart a wild thing in his chest, thundering so loud he's sure Flo must hear it.
He doesn't answer, can't answer, can barely even breathe. His fingers twist in Flo's shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer.
Florian doesn't need more encouragement. His free hand slides around Jeremie's back, pulling him flush against his body as his head dips. The moment their lips meet, the world narrows to this, to them— to the press of Florian's mouth against his, the heat of his body surrounding him, the way his breath hitches against Jeremie's mouth before he deepens the embrace even more.
Jeremie lets out a soft sound that's half-moan, half-whimper. He surrenders to the kiss, to Flo, in a way he's never allowed himself before. His fingers release their death grip on Flo's shirt to slide up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his touch.
Florian groans, the sound vibrating against Jeremie's lips as he backs him against the nearest wall. Jeremie gasps as his shoulders hit the surface, his body arching instinctively toward Flo even as his mind reels.
The taller man doesn't hesitate; his hands slide down Jeremie's back, fingers splaying over the planes of his muscles as he pulls him even closer. Jeremie's breath comes in ragged pants, his pulse hammering so violently he's sure Flo can feel it where his fingers press against the small of his back.
"More," he whispers, voice wrecked and unsteady.
Florian's answer is immediate, his mouth moving against Jeremie's with new intensity. His teeth graze Jeremie's lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, tasting him like he's been starved for it. Jeremie moans openly now, his hands clutching at Flo's shoulders as his body presses into him. He can feel every hard line of Florian's body, the way his muscles tense and release with each movement, the way his breath comes faster against Jeremie's skin.
One of Flo's hands moves higher, fingers threading through Jeremie's hair to angle his head back, giving him better access. The other slides lower, gripping his hip possessively as he pushes him more firmly against the wall, before scooping his palm beneath the curve of his ass.
Jeremie's entire body lights up at the touch, his hips rolling instinctively against Flo's. He breaks the kiss with a gasp, head tipping back to expose the column of his throat. Flo doesn't waste a moment, his lips trailing hot kisses and soft bites down the sensitive skin.
Jeremie whimpers, his fingers digging into Flo's shoulders as he struggles to process the onslaught of new sensations. His body trembles, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, by Flo's touch, by the grip holding him steady, the only thing keeping him from melting into the floor.
The room spins for a moment as Flo's mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot just below Jeremie's ear. His hips buck against Flo's instinctively, and he's rewarded with a low, rough sound of approval that goes straight to his groin.
"Flo," he gasps, voice hoarse and unsteady. Flo pulls back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes dark with lust and something deeper, more complex. He brushes a gentle thumb across Jeremie's lower lip, which is swollen from their kisses.
"Stop," Flo says, voice husky with need, "Don't think. Just be." Jeremie exhales shakily, his pulse roaring in his ears. For a moment, he thinks he might actually be crying— his vision blurs, his throat tightens, his fingers twitch against Flo's shoulders. But it's not grief. It's too hot, too full, too overwhelming— too much.
Florian watches the emotions cross Jeremie's face— confusion, desire, fear, hope— until, finally, with a shuddering breath, he surrenders to the moment. His hands slide up Flo's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulls him down for another kiss.
This one is slower, deeper, but no less consuming. Flo moves his mouth against Jeremie's with practiced ease, his hands sliding up to frame the Dutchman's face as he savors the taste of him.
Jeremie makes a needy sound in the back of his throat, his body arching toward Flo's even as his hands pull the German in closer. He forces himself to push past his whirling mind, to take hold of the man in front of him and kiss him to hell and back, to be in control for at least a moment.
Flo allows it, lets Jeremie set the pace for a heartbeat or two before sliding his hands down to grip his waist. The Dutchman turns them effortlessly, pressing Jeremie's back against the wall and pinning him there with his body. The sudden loss of control sends a thrill through Florian’s body, his breath coming in short gasps as he meets Jeremie’s gaze.
"Your turn," Flo murmurs against his lips. "Your rules now."
Jeremie's fingers tighten in Flo's shirt as he hesitates, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, panic flutters in his stomach—not at Flo, but at the responsibility, the vulnerability of making the next move.
"Your shirt," he whispers, voice rough and unsteady. "Take it off."
A slow, approving smile spreads across Flo's face. Without hesitation, he pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion, baring his muscular torso. Jeremie's gaze roams hungrily over every inch of exposed skin, his fingers itching to touch.
"Fuck," he breathes, his hands tracing the contours of Flo's chest and shoulders. Flo shivers beneath his touch, his breathing growing heavier as Jeremie explores him. His hands skim lower, tracing the hard ridges of Flo's abdomen before hooking his fingers into the waistband of his shorts. He tugs gently, silently requesting access. The German’s eyes darken as he lets Jeremie pull him closer, his erection already straining against the fabric of his underwear.
"Fuck," Jeremie whispers, again, a word he's sure he's muttered a thousand times in the past few minutes at this point, his voicr thick with need. He can feel Flo's hardness pressing against him, can see the way his muscles tense as he waits for Jeremie to take what he wants.
Flo's hands move to the wall beside Jeremie's head, caging him in as he ducks his head to capture Jeremie's mouth in a searing kiss.
Jeremie moans into the kiss, his body arching instinctively toward Flo as his hands slide lower, dipping beneath the waistband of the slender man’s shorts. His fingers brush over the heated skin of his hips, then lower, until they close around the thick length of Flo's cock. The German gasps against his mouth, his hips jerking forward at the contact.
"Jer," he breathes, his voice strained and raw. Jeremie swallows the sound with another kiss, his fingers tightening slightly as he strokes him. Flo's breathing falters, his forehead dropping to rest against Jeremie's shoulder as his body tenses with pleasure. "So good. You're.. so fucking good."
Jeremie smirks, the expression far more familiar to Florian's eyes— a look of mischief, of a sort of malice he’s not yet sure whether he should fear or desire.
"Wait," Jeremie says, pulling back just enough to look at Flo's face. He's breathing heavily, pupils blown wide with arousal and lips still damp. There's something vulnerable in the way he looks at Florian, something that sends a jolt straight to his chest. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you really want me."
Florian exhales sharply, his hands tightening against the wall as he presses his forehead against Jeremie's. His breath ghosts across Jeremie's face, warm and uneven. "You know I do," he murmurs. "For so fucking long.”
With that, Jeremie slowly sinks to his knees, the glimmering sheen of the tile prompting him to murmur a silent thanks to the cleaning staff.
Jeremje doesn't miss how the man before him's breath stutters, his eyes wide as the Dutchman swiftly pulls his boxers and shorts down to his knees and grins up at him through thick eyelashes.
"What? Scared?" He teases, that familiar confident lilt returning to his voice in full force.
Florian exhales a short laugh, though it's shaky and strained. His fingers twitch where they're still braced into fists, knuckles white with the effort of holding himself back. "Of you?" He shakes his head, though the way his chest rises and falls tells a different story. "Always."
Jeremie grins, his hands sliding up Florian's thighs as he moves closer. "Good answer," he murmurs before leaning in. The first touch of his tongue sends a shudder through the German’s body, his hips jerking forward instinctively. Jeremie hums in approval, the vibration traveling through Flo's cock as he swirls his tongue around the head.
"Fuck!" Florian hisses through clenched teeth, his fingers finally unfurling from their tight grip to fist in Jeremie's hair, hands pinned between the wall and the Dutchman's head, protecting him from bashing it backward into the drywall— at least, that's what Flo tells himself.
Jeremie sucks gently at first, tasting and teasing with soft licks and light pressure before taking Flo deeper. The taller man’s entire body tenses, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to keep himself still. His fingers tighten almost imperceptibly in Jeremie's hair, not pulling, just holding on. Jeremie's hands slide around to grip Flo's thighs, both for balance and to pull him closer as he increases his pace.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Florian chants under his breath, his hips twitching as pleasure coils tight in his gut. He's acutely aware of the intensity of it all— of Jeremie's mouth, his hands, the way his throat flexes around him.
Jeremie can feel Flo's body trembling, can taste the salt of his skin, the musk of arousal intensifying with every second. He pulls back just enough to lick a stripe up the underside of Flo's cock, his tongue pressing against the thick vein before swirling around the head. Flo makes a choked sound, his fingers tightening in Jeremie's hair as his head falls back with a long, deep groan.
"Jeremie," he breathes, his words raw and broken. The Dutchman meets his gaze, dark with hunger and something softer underneath— and that finally undoes him.
Florian's grip in Jeremie's hair tightens almost imperceptibly as he moves back, pulling him off his cock with a wet pop. His chest heaves, muscles straining as he looks down at Jeremie on his knees. The Dutchman's lips are swollen, his pupils nearly swallowing the blue of his irises, and he watches Flo with a look that's equal parts smug satisfaction and raw need.
"You're going to kill me," Flo murmurs, voice rough with desire. His fingers release their grip in Jeremie's hair to stroke his cheek instead, thumb brushing over his bottom lip, which is stuck out in a slight pout.
"Why'd you stop?" Jeremie murmurs, a rasp to his voice that has Florian's cock twitching.
The German exhales sharply, his fingers stilling against Jeremie's face as he shakes his head. "Because I'm not done with you yet," he says, voice rough, "not nearly done."
He reaches down, gripping Jeremie's shoulders and pulling him to his feet in one smooth motion. Jeremie goes willingly, his body pressing flush against Flo's the moment he's upright. The difference in their heights makes Florian have to dip his head slightly, but he doesn't hesitate as he captures Jeremie's mouth in a searing kiss.
Florian's hands slide down Jeremie's back, gripping his ass and lifting him effortlessly. The Dutchman’s legs wrap around Flo's waist instinctively as he's hoisted up, his back pressed against the wall. The friction of their bodies together sends sharp sparks of pleasure through Jeremie's nerves, his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his pants.
"Fuck," he breathes against Flo's mouth, his hips rolling instinctively, seeking more contact. "Big man been in the gym, eh?"
"Shut up," Flo mutters against his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Jeremie gasps, his fingers tightening in Flo's hair as he arches into the touch.
"Make me," he challenges, speaking quietly but with a smirk in his tone. Flo pulls back just enough to meet his gaze, his own eyes dark with intent. His hands tighten on Jeremie's ass, holding him securely against the wall as he grinds his hips forward deliberately. The thick heat of his erection presses against Jeremie's, drawing a strangled sound from his throat.
"Don't fucking challenge me," the German murmurs, "I knew you had a mouth on you, but god.." His words trail off as he nips at Jeremie's bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently before releasing it with a pop. The Dutchman's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his fingers digging into Flo's shoulders as his hips cant forward, seeking more friction.
"Fuck, Flo," he whines, the sound breaking halfway through his words. "Need to come so bad." His cock throbs in his pants, the pressure almost unbearable, the heat of Flo's body surrounding him making it worse, making him dizzy with want.
Florian's lips curl into a slow, wicked smile at the words, his hands sliding up to grip the waistband of Jeremie's pants. With one smooth motion, he yanks them down, freeing Jeremie's cock. The Dutchman hisses as the cool air hits his heated skin, his cock twitching at the sudden exposure. Florian's gaze drops to it, darkening as he watches the way it bobs slightly with the motion of his breathing.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice rough. His thumb brushes over the leaking tip, a snicker slipping past his lips. Jeremie's breath catches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Florian smirks at the sight, at the way his slightly too-large shirt hangs loose around Jeremie's hips, exposing the hard length jutting out between them. His fingers wrap around Jeremie's cock, giving him a firm stroke from base to tip. Jeremie's head thunks back against the wall, a broken moan escaping him as his fingers scramble for purchase against Flo's shoulders.
"F-Fuck," he gasps, his hips stuttering as Florian's grip tightens slightly, thumb pressing into the sensitive spot just beneath the head. "Y-you're gonna make me—"
"Not yet," Flo interrupts, though he increases the pace of his strokes, his other hand still gripping Jeremie's ass to keep him pinned.
The Dutchman’s eyes snap open at the words, locking onto Flo's gaze with a desperation that contrasts sharply with the cocky smirk on his face. "You bastard," he breathes, his hips rolling desperately into Flo's hand. "I need to come, please, I need to come so fucking badly."
Florian smirks, his thumb brushing over the sensitive tip of Jeremie's cock. "What if I don't want you to yet?" he asks, his words rough and low.
Jeremie whines, his fingers digging into Flo's shoulders as he tries to hold back, his hips twitching erratically. "Flo, please, I can't, I need to—"
"Shh." Florian leans in, capturing Jeremie's lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing the next desperate plea. His strokes remain steady, firm but not relentless, drawing out every twitch and tremble of Jeremie's body. The Dutchman clings to him, his entire body wound tight like a coiled spring, muscles taut with the effort of holding back. His mouth opens under Flo's, his tongue meeting his in desperate, hungry kisses.
"I'm gonna come," he finally chokes out, pulling back from the kiss. "Flo, I can't, I can't, I need to come, please." His cock twitches in Flo's hand, the head flushed a dark red as he feels the orgasm approaching, his muscles quivering with the impossible strain of holding back.
Florian's grip tightens just slightly, his thumb pressing harder. "Go on then," he finally murmurs, his words rough with lust. Jeremie's head falls back with a broken moan as he finally lets go, his orgasm crashing over him in waves. His hips buck erratically, his cock pulsing in Flo's hand as he comes with a choked cry.
Florian's grip doesn't relent, stroking through Jeremie's release as the Dutchman trembles violently against him. His other hand stays firm on Jeremie's ass, keeping him flush against the wall as he rides out his peak.
"Fuck, fuck," he whimpers, his forehead dropping to rest against Flo's collarbone. "God, you're evil." His body feels like liquid, every nerve ending hypersensitive as Flo continues those slow, firm strokes through the last remnants of his orgasm.
Eventually, Jeremie's legs unwind from Flo's waist as he gradually regains control of his body. His head is still bowed, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he clings to the taller man's frame for support. Flo sets him down gently, still holding him close as he presses a soft kiss to his temple. Jeremie's body is barely as strong as jell-o, so the German hooks his arms beneath the man's shoulders to keep him upright.
Florian's hands slide down Jeremie's back, his touch gentle as the Dutchman slowly regains his bearings. Jeremie's breathing is still uneven, his skin flushed and slick with sweat. He leans heavily against Flo, his head resting against the German's shoulder as he slowly comes back to himself.
"Feel better?" Flo murmurs after a short while, speaking quietly, the words rumbling in his chest.
Jeremie hums noncommittally, eyes straying lower. "Yeah. You didn't.." He trails off, gesturing to Florian's half-hard cock.
Flo catches Jeremie's wandering hand, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to his palm. "I didn't," he says, voice rough with suppressed need. "Not yet."
Jeremie's eyebrows draw together in confusion and frustration. "Why not?" he asks, the sound muffled against Flo's chest.
"Because I want to take my time with you," Flo murmurs, his fingers threading through Jeremie's locced hair, "worship every inch of you," his free hand drifts down Jeremie's back again, coming to rest at the base of his spine, a smirk on his lips, “make you feel so good you forget your own name."
Jeremie shivers at the words, his spent cock giving a valiant twitch in response. He nuzzles into Flo's chest, pressing a kiss to the warm skin there. "Mmm. You're dangerous like this."
Flo chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Good," he says, the word dark and promising.
He's about to say something more when Jeremie steps back, once more sinking to his knees. "Absolutely not— no," Florian huffs, "Jer, you're exhausted, you—“
His protests die on his tongue as Jeremie sits back on his knees, smirking. "Fuck my mouth, then. Doesn't need any work from me, no?"
Florian's breathing stutters as Jeremie looks up at him through his lashes, lips still glistening faintly from where Flo had kissed him. His cock gives another, more pronounced twitch at the look in the Dutchman's face, his entire body tensing as his self-control wavers. Jeremie's smirk widens as he watches Flo's reaction, his half-hard cock beginning to rise again.
Florian's gaze darkens as he watches Jeremie on his knees before him. His breath is shallow, his cock now fully hard again as he stares down at the Dutchman with something raw and intense in his face. Jeremie's lips part slightly as he looks up at him, his tongue darting out to wet them unconsciously. The movement draws a low groan from Florian's throat before he can stop it.
"You're really trying to kill me," he murmurs, but there's no real protest in his words. His hands come up to cradle Jeremie's face, tilting his head back gently as he feeds his cock between his lips, groaning at how Jeremie's warm, wet mouth feels as he envelops him.
Jeremie hums in response, his hands coming up to grip Flo's thighs for balance as he takes him in. Flo's grip on his hair tightens slightly, guiding him as he starts to move, thrusting shallowly into Jeremie's mouth. Jeremie's gaze flicks up to meet Flo's, his tongue swirling around the thick shaft as he sucks. The German’s head falls back with a guttural moan, his hips rolling into the movement.
Florian’s fingers twist in Jeremie's hair, his breathing ragged as the Dutchman works him over with his mouth. His hips jerk slightly, unable to stop himself from fucking into that sweet heat. Jeremie moans around his cock, the vibration sending sparks up Florian's spine. His other hand comes up to grip the edge of the wall for support as Jeremie's tongue presses against the underside of his shaft, his grip on the Dutchman's hair tightening reflexively.
It doesn't take long for any semblance of hesitance or grace to die as Flo's thrusts grow more erratic, his control slipping as pleasure builds.
Florian's hips stutter as his orgasm builds, his thrusts becoming more uncontrolled. Jeremie takes him deeper still, his nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of Flo's cock as he swallows him completely.
"Fuck, yeah, take it, take it--" Florian grits out, his words rough and ragged as Jeremie's throat convulses around him. His fingers tighten in the Dutchman's hair, guiding him as he pistons his hips forward, fucking into that welcoming heat with desperate urgency.
And there's something about it, something about the tears gathered at the corners of Jeremie's eyes, about the way he gazes up at him through those thick lashes with absolute trust despite the discomfort— something that makes Florian's control just.. snap.
A strangled groan rips from his throat as he spills down Jeremie's throat, his hips jerking erratically as he comes. He drinks him down with evident effort, his throat working around Flo's pulsing cock as he swallows again and again. His hands remain firm on Florian's hips, steadying himself as well as the German.
Florian's entire body trembles as his orgasm rips through him, his grip on Jeremie's hair almost painfully tight for a moment before he forces himself to loosen it. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his cock twitching weakly in Jeremie's mouth as the last pulses of his release ebb away. Jeremie pulls back slowly, his tongue flicking out to catch the last drops as he gazes up at Flo through heavy-lidded eyes.
Flo's legs feel like jelly as he stares down at Jeremie, his chest heaving. His hand stills in Jeremie's hair, his thumb brushing over the Dutchman's temple almost absently, before he crumples to his knees alongside the older man's sweat-sheened body.
Florian's arms come around Jeremie, pulling him into a tight embrace as he nuzzles into the crook of the Dutchman's neck. Jeremie hums in satisfaction, relaxing into the hold with a contented sigh. His arms wrap around Flo in return, his hands rubbing soothing circles on the German's back.
"Missed you," he murmurs against Flo's chest. The words come out softer than he intends, the admission slipping out unbidden.
Florian tightens his grip instinctively at the words, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of Jeremie's neck. "Missed you too," he admits quietly, his breath still uneven from the force of his climax.
Flo's fingers drift through Jeremie's locs as he nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck, breathing in the musk of sex and sweat and the faint citrus from the Dutchman's shampoo. Jeremie shifts slightly, turning his face to press a kiss to Flo's temple in return, his breath stirring the hair there. They stay like that for a long moment, simply holding each other in the quiet aftermath of their coupling, bodies cooling gradually as the last remnants of their shared passion fade. Flo's hands trace slow patterns along Jeremie's back, his touch light and almost absentminded, as if committing the shape of the Dutchman to memory.
"I never even got to see your ass," Florian murmurs, an edge of disappointment to his humorous tone.
Jeremie lets out a soft laugh, pressing another kiss to Flo's shoulder. "Next time," he promises, the words rumbling quietly against Florian's skin. He shifts slightly, rolling onto his side so he can look up at Flo, propping his head on one hand. His other arm remains around Flo's waist, holding him close.
Flo smiles down at him, his fingers tracing along Jeremie's cheekbone. "Yeah," he agrees softly, his thumb brushing over Jeremie's lower lip. "Next time." His gaze darkens slightly as he studies the Dutchman's face, his fingers drifting down to rest at the base of Jeremie's throat, feeling the pulse flutter beneath his fingertips.
The silence between them stretches, comfortable and heavy in equal measure.
"You've got this look on your face," Jeremie murmurs after a while. "Like you're thinking about something important." He studies Flo's face intently.
Flo's lips curve into a small smile, his fingers stilling against Jeremie's skin. "Just enjoying this," he says quietly. "Enjoying you. And maybe thinking about how much I want to eat you out over my kitchen table."
Jeremie practically chokes on air at the words, his face flushing darkly. He coughs, blinking rapidly as he recovers, but he can't stop the way his cock twitches at the mental image. His fingers tighten briefly on Flo's hip before he forces himself to relax.
"Raincheck," he murmurs, and Florian grins wickedly. Jeremie rolls his eyes, slowly starting to pull himself to his feet.
"We should probably get cleaned up," he murmurs, "preferably before the Anfield cleaning staff comes through. Doubt that'd be a great first impression."
Florian chuckles as he rises with less grace than usual, his limbs still loose and languid from the aftereffects of his orgasm. He steps into Jeremie, crowding him slightly as he leans down to capture the Dutchman's lips in a slow, deep kiss. Jeremie hums into it, his hands coming up to grip Flo's shoulders as he kisses him back with equal intensity. There's something softer in the way their mouths move together now, a tenderness that wasn't there during the frantic moments of before.
When they finally part, both breathing just a little harder, Flo rests his forehead against Jeremie's. "That was.." he starts, shaking his head slightly. "That was really good."
Jeremie smirks. "C'mon," he murmurs, "I'll drive you back to mine."
Florian, leaning down to pick up his shorts, can hardly manage to suppress a wide, toothy grin. "Making me the passenger princess already?"
"You fucking wish," Jeremie snorts, tossing a sweaty sock across the room at the German.
Florian dodges with a laugh, catching the sock midair and tossing it back effortlessly. The grin stays on his face as he pulls his shorts on, his movements slow and deliberate, showing off the lean lines of his torso before he finally pulls the fabric up over his hips. He watches Jeremie do the same, admiring the way the Dutchman's muscles shift as he moves.
"Alright," Jeremie huffs, "We've got training tomorrow— you can look, but no touching. I'm worn out enough."
Florian winks, pulling on his shirt with exaggerated slowness just to see Jeremie's eye twitch. The Dutchman grabs his keys and jerks his head toward the door.
"C'mon, princess."