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“How would you define… Us?”
Richard looked at Taron in surprise. That was something he had never really considered, even if they had been dancing around the subject for months. Taron had moved from Elton and David’s manor straight to Richard’s three bedroom flat. They had separate bedrooms, but seemed to always migrate to each other’s beds during the course of the night. They cuddled on the couch whilst watching the telly after dinner. They kissed tentatively, sweetly, passionately, often enough that Richard began to crave it more than cigarettes.
But define it? He had never thought it was needed. He liked what they were. He liked what they were doing. He liked the direction they were headed, even if there was no clear word for it within his mind.
Taron looked at him, worrying his bottom lip, looking very much like he regretted even asking the question. Richard ran his thumb across his lips, a soft smile on his face. “How would I define ‘us’? I don’t think we truly live up to a definition, love, and I don’t think we ever will.”
“Oh,” Taron replied, frowning.
Richard shook his head. “I know what you are thinking right now, and you are wrong, my love. I admire your mind, your soul, your beauty, and your strength. To me, you are my end game. Perhaps I should have been more clear about my intentions before now, but… I want to marry you one day, T. I want you to be my husband, my one and only. I don’t have a definition for us because I know what I want us to be, but I don’t know if you are ready just…”
Taron interrupted him with a kiss. “That’s all I need to know, Dickie. I… I love you.”
Richard frowned when Taron flinched, as though waiting for Richard to run, yet again. Richard wrapped his arm around him, holding him close, and kissed the top of his head. “And I love you, my joy, my heart, my everything.”