His Darkness (bxb)

chapter twenty-four

honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes

i feel like a person for a moment of my life

but you don't know what hell you put me through

to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

to feel your weight in arms i've never used

it's the god that heroin prays to

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It's not everyday that I'm up and out of bed before Oliver is, but today isn't just any day - it's his twenty-third birthday. I set the the tray of food I made on the bedside table and crawl over to Oliver's sleeping figure.

"Wake up, birthday boy," I whisper as I gently pepper kisses over his forehead, cheeks and nose. His eyes slowly open to reveal his mesmerising green orbs. "Happy birthday," I breathe before his arms come up from under the covers and he pulls me in for a kiss. His lips are slow and gentle against mine, pulling me impossibly close. I get on all fours, hovering over Oliver, to be more comfortable.

I break away from Oliver's lips to kiss down his jaw and neck, an action he expresses his approval of by pulling on my hair slightly. I grin when I feel something poking my thigh and know just what to do about it. However, before my hand can reach its destination, Oliver switches from pulling on my hair to pushing my head further and further down until I know what he's asking of me. I look up at him with innocent eyes as I pull down his pyjama pants and boxers in one go.

Oliver is nowhere near gentle. He has a firm grip on the back of my head, controlling my every movement. His hips buck up to meet my mouth, causing me to gag and want to pull back, but he holds me down until it's hard to breathe. It's his soft groans and heavy breathing that keep me going until he releases into my mouth. His hands leave my hair and I swallow and pull away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Good boy," Oliver praises and it's the first thing he's said all morning. I'm about to bend down for a kiss when his grip on my throat stops me.

"What?" I breathe, my voice slightly hoarse.

"After you brush your teeth," he reminds me. I nod and get off of him as he sits up in bed. I hand him the breakfast tray with the croissant sandwich and hot chocolate that I prepared. "This looks amazing, Noah. Thank you," he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, but it's not where I want it. "Do you want to share it?" he asks.

"I just had breakfast," I smirk as I make my way to the bathroom. "I'm going to pack some last minute things before we leave."

There's only one thought plaguing my mind as I pack our bags for our trip to Toronto: dear God, please don't let me mess anything up this weekend.

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The drive to Toronto is long, but quite entertaining. We listen to a playlist I made for a while before introducing Oliver to the Very Really Good podcast, which he isn't a big fan of so we listen to an audiobook the rest of the way. When we stop at a gas station, I volunteer to go in and grab some snacks for us, but I settle on feeding them to Oliver as he drives instead of enjoying them myself.

I don't get a chance to eat till noon when Oliver and I stop at a diner on our way to the hotel. It's fairly crowded, but we manage to find a seat near the window.

"Do you want to do the talking or do I do it?" Oliver asks.

"You can go ahead. I just want the spaghetti with chicken," I say as I close my menu and set it aside. Oliver nods as he keeps flipping through his.