Many Happy Returns.

He awoke slowly; yawning as he stretched and rolled over, his arm snaking out automatically to gather his lover closer. His eyes flew open when instead of encountering the warm body he had anticipated he was met with the rustle and crunch of a brown-paper wrapped package.

Propping himself up on one elbow, and rubbing his hand roughly across his eyes to clear away the last vestiges of sleep, he examined the parcel. It was neatly tied together with string, the lumpy, odd-shaped contents having been carefully concealed beneath layers of painstakingly applied paper and a small tag hung from one end of the neatly tied bow.

‘Happy Birthday Ripper,’ was written in beautiful, flowing script and he lifted his head to search the room for the writer only to find himself utterly alone. He sat up and leaning against the headboard drew the parcel onto his lap to examine it further. After poking and prodding at it for a few minutes he slowly pulled the string; undoing the bow before turning the package over and uncovering the contents. Several layers of paper later he removed the last covering and stared in silent awe.

The dagger was only small but was precisely balanced and exquisitely crafted. The edge was honed to perfection, the soft, supple leather of the hilt rose from the beautiful gold cross hilt embossed with a fine, intricate filigree and embedded with tiny ruby chips. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips as his eyes devoured the magnificent weapon, his fingers tracing lovingly across its surface uncaring when he nicked his finger on the razor-sharp edge, christening the blade with his own blood as he continued his entranced devotion.

So caught up in his admiration was he that he failed to notice the door open. Ethan entered the tiny flat and placed the box on the table, the cake forgotten as he watched Rupert lovingly caress the dagger. Walking to the bed he knelt and captured his lover’s hand, and bringing it to his lips he kissed the blood that ran freely from the wound. His tongue reached out to trace the cut lightly before enclosing the digit in his mouth, his tongue swirling gently. He captured his love’s eyes and slid his mouth slowly back up the injured finger, placing a soft kiss to the end of the digit before asking huskily, “So I take it you like it?” The fire in his lover’s eyes and the hungry mouth that captured his, leaving him breathless and gasping were all the answer he required.