the Secret Life of Damien Carmichael

16. the Eleventh Hour (part III)

At a quarter to three,  Oliver still hadn't fallen asleep yet. His mind was still reeling from all that he had experienced over the last two weeks, and he couldn't seem to quiet it no matter how hard he tried.

For his part, Damien was curled comfortably across his chest, his arm wrapped across Oliver's shoulder while his head lay just above his heart and his leg was tossed over Oliver's, holding him close as though he didn't want to let him go. It was comforting, Oliver thought, in a strange way to have Damien beside him and to know that he was free. They had opened the windows of the clubhouse, letting in a cool, comfortable breeze. Sucking in a deep breath, Oliver buried his nose in Damien's hair, holding onto the other boy tight.

He didn't want to go to sleep just yet, for he couldn't help but fear that when he awoke, he would once more be trapped in that tiny little cell.

*

The sun crept over the horizon several hours later, filling the clubhouse's living room with a bright warm orange glow. Damien squinted against the bright sunlight that filtered in through the blinds and looked over at Oliver who was sleeping peacefully beneath him. He smiled, sighing happily. It was finally over, he thought. Oliver was out. Resting his head on Oliver's shoulder, Damien closed his eyes. He was still exhausted from the past few days and he didn't want to worry about anything else for now. His classes could wait, he decided. If nothing else, he deserved some alone time with his boyfriend, and no one or nothing was going to stop that.

Damien wasn't certain when he had fallen asleep again, only that he awoke a little while later, to gentle kisses on his forehead. Damien smiled, blinking carefully against the still too bright sun, "Good morning," he said.

"Morning," Oliver replied with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"Best sleep I've had in ages," Damien replied with a stretch. "You?"

"Some nightmares," Oliver admitted. "But it was so amazing to wake up with you in my arms," he sighed, smiling despite himself. Damien couldn't help but blush at that. "Meanwhile," Oliver said getting to his feet. "I'd kill for a shower."

Damien tried not to think too hard on that, or the fact that as Oliver stretched, his shirt had ridden up, revealing a large swath of bronze skin, covered in a thicket of dark black hair. Damien swallowed. Blinking, he shook his head and looked up into Oliver's eyes to find him grinning, he'd been caught. 

"You should definitely take one then. We're not far from the boy's locker room," Damien said.

Oliver grinned, pulling off his t-shirt, "Care to join me?"

Damien's eyes widened, he had tried desperately not to stare at Oliver's toned, perfect chest, but he could hardly help himself. "I-I don't think that's a good idea," Damien stammered.

Oliver smiled, and nodded, "Suit yourself," he turned, making his way towards the door of the clubhouse, and slipped out leaving Damien alone with his thoughts, and the image of Oliver half-naked burned into his mind. He groaned, falling back on the pull out couch they had slept on and stared up at the ceiling. It was covered in dust and cobwebs.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket, Damien nearly jumped, pulling it out quickly to find a message from Carrie:

Gonna sneak you breakfast shortly. Hope you didn't stay up too late celebrating your boyfriend's return.

Damien groaned, he wondered if she'd be terribly disappointed to hear that thus far they hadn't done much beyond kissing, not for a lack of wanting to on Damien's part. Gods did he want to, only he was terrified. He had never been with anyone before, what did that even entail? He wondered. He knew about sex, albeit someone obliquely, he had certainly written it enough times, but writing it and experiencing it were two very different things. What did it look like between him and Oliver?