And then I stop, pulling back to let his cock fall from my mouth.
He gasps, cursing me under his breath. “Bloody hell. Fuck. Why’d you stop?”
“Not yet,” I say, standing to remove my clothing. Darius pushes onto his elbows to watch me and I make a show of stroking my length before walking around the bed and opening the side drawer to retrieve a tube of lube. “We have all night.”
By the time the sun comes up, bathing my room in a golden glow, Darius and I are both covered in sweat and cum. I took him apart for hours, before his commanding side came out and I was treated to the bossy version of my boyfriend. The one who tied my hands together with my belt and fucked me as hard as our injuries would allow. It was perfect. Better than perfect. My body aches, but for the first time in three days, it’s for the best reason.
“I need coffee,” Darius mumbles from where he’s plastered to my side, his face buried in the curve of my neck. “And a shower.”
Kissing the top of his head, I lift the duvet then slide out of the bed. “I’ll make it,” I offer, but he’s quick to climb out after me, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He stands, completely naked, at the side of my bed, and I forget I was going to the kitchen for a moment as I roam my eyes over his beautiful body. Drinking in every inch of him.
“This is how I want to wake up, every day,” I say, when he catches me staring at him. “I don’t know how productive my mornings will be, but who cares?”
Darius chuckles, stepping towards me to wrap his arms around my waist.
“We’re going to need to live together then.”
I look down at him and steal a quick kiss, for no other reason than I can. I will never tire of this. Of him. Of us.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I reply.
Darius’s eyes widen, but his lips have curved into a smile that has his dimples popping on his cheeks.
“Okay. Yes.”
With an arm around his waist, I guide us to the kitchen, lifting Darius so he’s seated on the countertop. He presses play on the smart speaker – Dermot Kennedy’s voice filling the otherwise quiet flat. Moving around the kitchen, I make two mugs of coffee and slices of toast, then move to stand between his spread legs.
I feed Darius bites of toast slathered in the Nutella that I keep here just for him. He moans at the first bite, laughing at the way I steal a kiss while he chews. And then, with my eyes locked on his, for the first time in years, I eat my own slice of chocolate-covered toast. There’s a flash of discomfort in my gut as Alister's voice pops into my head, but I breathe through it, working with the tools my therapist and I have been working on to associate food, especially sweet foods, with positive experiences. Like eating Nutella toast with the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.
The man who gives me the safety I lost a long time ago.
I think that’s why I’ve always enjoyed watching him eat – because he’s safe and I trust him. Since the day I met Darius, I’ve found comfort in his presence.
“You have a little here,” he says, bringing the spoon to my lips and slathering the chocolate spread over them. He smirks as he leans in and licks it up, his hand sneakily tickling my nipple.
“We’re never going to get anything done,” I mumble into his mouth.
“Don’t care.” He kisses me harder, tilting his head to the side and I swallow down his sweet, chocolate flavoured moans. From somewhere in the flat, I’m aware of my phone alarm going off. Groaning, I pull away from Darius and his intoxicating kisses. “You have to work today, don’t you?”
“Afraid so.”
Stepping out of his hold, I move to the sink and wash our dishes, before I find my phone and shut off the alarm. Darius has slid off the counter and settled on the sofa, a fleece blanketaround his shoulders and a newspaper on his lap. It’s open to a crossword I started earlier in the week.
“What are you going to do today?”
He plays with the edges of the newspaper.
“Figure out the rest of my life.” Finding a work polo and pair of shorts in my laundry basket, I pull them on as he continues. “I wasn’t lying when I told my father I didn’t care about the money. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t rely on it. I have for years.”
I settle on the arm of the sofa, my feet next to his hip.
“I’ll support you for as long as you need me to. You can come live here, or we can find someplace else.”
“Thank you, Ollie. You have no idea how much that means to me – how much everything you do for me means to me. But I want to find a job. Not only for the money – though that is a big part – but because I feel like this is the new chapter in our story. I want to come home from a long day at work and moan about rush hour trains, and colleagues who steal my yogurts. And I want to be excited when Friday rolls around and we can lie in bed all day Saturday. And I want to know that while my father built his life on lies, I built mine on trust, and loyalty…and good.”
“You are so fucking good, angel,” I say, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide to do. From here on out, it’s just the two of us, my love.”
“I like the sound of that. Now, go, don’t be late for work.”
