Seven Twenty-Eight

36.

"Why don't we sleep in my room?"

She turned around slowly, her eyes heavy as she looked at him through the dim lighting.

"You probably shouldn't be in here anyway," He said quietly, holding his hand out to her.

She reluctantly took his hand, letting him guide her through the eerie hall, worming themselves around the markers and caution tape that was scattered around.

She fell back onto his bed, gazing up at the desk chair turned out with a blank expression.

"Jackson taught you well, didn't he?"

Keeping her body still, she reached her hand up, feeling Oliver's blazer open around her, and stretched her fingers out to the unobtainable seat. A chill rushed up her bare torso and her arm fell limp, following with a heavy sigh as she turned to curl herself into the blankets.

"Do you want to change?" His voice startled her, and she poked her head out to look at him.

He was angelic, as he usually appeared. A soft light from the chandelier that hung over the foyer emitting behind his back, and the moon shining on his front. His hands moved slow, crawling down his chest in a tired weight as he unbuttoned his stained shirt.

Elisa stared at him for a moment in awe, the expression on her face comparable to one that stared at their deepest passion. After the fact, she dragged herself up, nudging the blankets away from her blindly. Her heart pounded. It wasn't even an idea that he could hear it too— It was a fact.

Her hands landed on his, halting him in place before they dragged down to complete the task herself.

He stared down at her with a tired smile, gently brushing his fingers through her hair in a calming manner. "What are you doing?" He asked in a small voice, ignoring the tangles that the dried blood fused.

Her fingers dragged up his chest, feathering across to his shoulder, pushing the button up back. "It isn't our birthday anymore," She whispered.

He nodded, taking his hands away from her to let the shirt fall to the ground behind him. "It isn't," He agreed, keeping his hands to himself.

"It wasn't the best either," She frowned, tilting her head up to look at him.

He stepped closer when she put her hand on his waist, inviting him in. "It wasn't the worst, I don't think," He replied, "Sam's okay."

Elisa hummed softly, dragging her hand against his smooth skin. "Can today be better?" She asked, letting her frown falter back to a calm expression.

"Yeah, baby," He told her, smiling weakly, "It can."

"Can I make it better?"

"How's that?"

Unresponsive, she moved her hand around to his back, pulling him even closer— As close as she could manage.

His body tensed slightly when her lips touched him, his ribs meeting her closer when he sucked in a sharp breath.

"I want you," She mumbled against him, tilting her head to expand her journey.

Oliver licked his lips, reaching his hand out grip the footboard. "You're tired," He told her, shaking his head.

"Mnmm," She hummed, swiftly moving to stand on her knees. Her face almost leveled with his, she tilted her head down, laying gentle kisses against his collarbone and shoulder.

"Baby," He breathed out, tilting his head back.

"Hmm?" She hummed, making his skin crawl.

"I-I-" He stammered, putting his other hand on her waist. He huffed when she moved against him, gliding her lips across his collarbone, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck."