Sheets tangled around your legs, rumpled from the night before. The smell of sex and sweat hangs in the air, lingering as a product of what happened between you two. You take a slow look around his room, the details of his career with the SAS are here and there but nothing in your face.

You slowly get up from the bed and change into a pair of his sweats and one of his shirts. You leave the bedroom and follow the noise that leads to the kitchen. You see him there, making you breakfast and coffee just how you like.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty. I made you something to eat.” His accent is dulcet and slight raspy from the morning.

“We can’t do this anymore.” Five words make him pause. Five words make him look over his shoulder at you standing there on the edge of the kitchen.

“I mean it, we can’t do this anymore.” Your voice echoes with a slight hitch, becoming a question of whether or not this situation should continue.

Friends with benefits; friends who fucked.

“No.” He responds with a clear and concise decision. He takes a firm stance on this relationship that was more physical. And he can’t deny that he wants you, that he had wanted you for a long time.

He wants you. He wants you so fucking bad it hurts.

You stare in silence, your eyes sweeping over him. For the last 4 months you’d been sleeping together; you’d have sex whenever the mood struck you and there was little else.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

Gaz saw it differently, he knew there was more and he wanted more.

“-come have something to eat. Let’s talk, sweetheart.” His lips graze yours as he looks you over with heat burning in his eyes. “I made your favourite.”

Desire; lust and need. He was addicted to you, he craved you.