Title: BIRTHDAY BOY

Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movieverse)
Pairing: Donald and Timothy
Rating: NC-17 

Word Count: 6883
References/Spoilers: References to Donald's past
Disclosure: I wish they were mine. Alas, they are not, so I'm just taking them out for a spin with thanks to the men who created them and the actors who brought them to life.

Summary: Donald feels blue when he thinks no one remembers his birthday, and Timothy plots a memorable night for the man he loves. Sequel to "Sentimental Journey" in the One Night Series.

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BIRTHDAY BOY

by

Candy Apple

Timothy is very organized. He keeps everything in his Blackberry, including all the birthdays, anniversaries, and even death anniversaries for the people who mean anything to him. That last one got me. I'd never thought of keeping track of when somebody died, but he had a few close friends and relatives he sent notes to near the anniversary of a loved one's death. It wasn't exactly a mention of the death, but just a note saying he was thinking about them or with some little remembrance about the person who died.

Sometimes I'm in awe of everything he keeps track of, and how much he cares about so many people.

He wanted to know when my birthday was, and I told him. He didn't put it in his little handheld electronic ancestor-of-the-Blackberry he had when we met, and I found that kind of odd. I was a little hurt by it, truthfully, because I didn't seem to be as important as all those other people whose names and dates, and even the names of their dead relatives, made it into his little electronic marvel that he was forever tapping with a little midget plastic pen-thingy. My birthday was a week before his Aunt's and Uncle's wedding anniversary, so when I saw a reminder note on the fridge for their anniversary a couple days before my birthday, I sort of figured he'd forgotten me.

My family used to make a big deal out of birthdays. When we were little, there were always parties with about a gazillion kids running around, lots of cake, some kind of weird-ass clown or cheesy magician, and presents. Always a good present from Mom and Dad - like a bike or something big you wanted but wouldn't ordinarily get any other time - and a bunch of little stuff from the kids who came to the party.

Like so much about my family, I left my birthday behind when I came out, when everything blew up with Kyle and the Army. The last time anybody cared about my birthday was when Kyle figured out a way to stick a candle to a cookie and then sang happy birthday while he was on top of me and getting my pants off. He wasn't big on romance, but he had a sick sense of humor, which fit well with mine. Nobody had marked my birthday since then. I had mostly casual friends and acquaintances who didn't care enough to put me in their calendars, either.

I woke up that morning, half expecting Timmy to do something unusual - breakfast in bed, going in late so we had some extra...quality time together - something out of the ordinary. He didn't. He was flying around the room like a balloon someone let the air out of, because he'd overslept and he had a meeting at 8, and he fired off something at me about the alarm not going off and did I turn it off, and then asking me if I'd drive him to work because he'd never make it on the bus. I'm not sure he took a breath during that entire exhausting speech. So I hauled my ass out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and while yawning and scratching myself, found my keys and my wallet and trudged downstairs to get the car. I'd been on a stakeout until three, but considering all the times I fucked up Timmy's sleep with my schedule, I didn't have the heart to say no. Truthfully, if I could have handled the sleep deprivation, I'd have always driven him to work. He deserved the royal treatment.

So I took him to work and he thanked me and even though he was running late, he kissed me good bye and told me he loved me before getting out of the car and practically flying to the entrance of the building.

I went back home, kicked off my jeans and crawled back into bed. I could have gone back to sleep with either a really good Timmy back rub, or if he'd been there to fuck me senseless. As it was, I lay there and stewed over my birthday.

I thought about Kyle and his cookie, and then I cried for a while. I don't know why. By then, I usually didn't cry about it, even when I thought about it, but the last time anybody sang Happy Birthday to me, it was him, and we were writhing around on a cot in a tent in the middle of a war zone.

He didn't have a Blackberry or even a calendar he dared write it on, but he found it on some paperwork of mine and remembered it and found a half-stale chocolate chip cookie in our provisions somewhere, scared up a candle, dripped wax on the cookie and stuck the candle in it. If you'd known Kyle, you'd know how unique it was for him to fuck around with something like that.

I rolled on my back and looked at my wedding ring, twisting it back and forth a few times. I knew how much Timothy loved me. He put up with my schedule, took care of me when I was sick or when someone beat the shit out of me, and he lit up like Christmas whenever he saw me. Weighing that against my birthday made me feel even more pathetic for giving it a second thought. I had the best man in the world, and for some bizarre reason, he thought I was the best he could do - that I was the best there was out there.

I dozed off on that thought and slept a few hours before going into work. Part of me kind of hoped Cora would know somehow, that she'd get me a cupcake or a donut or something with a candle in it. Maybe a funny card.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she needled, even though she knew I'd been out late the night before. I tossed my ratty piece of notepaper on the desk that had my stakeout hours on it for her to add to the client's bill. "Apparently you haven't had your coffee yet," she added, picking up the wrinkly paper and calling up the client's account on the computer. Years later, Kenny would revive her spreadsheet format to track our client billing. She was a marvel, and I wasn't to have another like her - well, not ever, because Kenny's great in his own ways, but he ain't Cora.

"Sorry, Cora. You're right, the caffeine level is low, and I had to get up to drive Timmy into work..." I yawned and poured coffee in the biggest mug we had. I drank some, and it almost curled my hair. My eyes must have bugged.

"I made it when I got in - it's probably a bit strong."

"Nah, actually, it's perfect. Just what I needed. Toxic enough to wake me up."

"No clients expected?" she asked, taking in my disheveled appearance. I was wearing jeans, a tank shirt, and another short-sleeved shirt hanging open over the top, my holster poorly concealed. It was supposed to be hot that day, and I didn't care what I looked like for the work I had ahead of me.

"Got a little undercover work to do. The suit's a dead giveaway."

"Ah," she replied, nodding, her fingers clicking rapidly over the keys. "This one's adding up," she said.

"Yeah, it'd be nice if it was going somewhere."

"The boyfriend isn't cheating?" she asked. I was tailing some rich guy's boy-toy boyfriend, but so far, he hadn't done anything wrong - at least not that I could see, photograph, or prove.

"I don't know. If he is, he's good at it."

"You'll get him. They always make that one mistake," she said.

"For somebody who never married, you sound pretty savvy about cheating spouses."

"Never married, not 'never dated,'" she replied, smiling. "I know a snake in the grass when I see one, and they always run into a mongoose sooner or later."

"I'm the mongoose?" I asked. She looked at me intensely a moment.

"I can see it," she said, going back to her work.

"Gee, thanks," I replied, chuckling. She had cheered me up a bit, though. My life was the best it had ever been since it fell apart. I had no reason to mope around. I had friends, even if there weren't a lot of them, and I had Timmy. What else did I need?

A birthday cake with my name on it.

It was childish, but there it was. I wanted the cake and a present because finally I had somebody. I could accept not getting that when I didn't have anybody, but now I did, and I wanted somebody to care that I was born on this day. That it was my day. How did this work that I was married to a great guy now, and still nobody gave a shit that it was my birthday? I didn't rate a "tappity-tap-tap" with Timmy's little plastic pen on his little overgrown calculator with all his appointments and important things in it?

"The coffee's not working," Cora said, standing, taking her purse out of the bottom desk drawer. "I'll be back," she said.

"I'm fine. You don't have to go get anything," I protested, though if she insisted, I wasn't going to fight her. I didn't have breakfast, and food sounded awfully good.

"It's almost lunch time, so I'll just bring us both back something. Burger King okay?" she asked.

"Anything hot that won't fight back is fine," I replied.

"Well, now there's a comment that could be taken a number of ways," she joked, heading out the door.

Cora brought me a double Whopper, a large order of fries, and a large chocolate milkshake. For someone who never had any kids, she sure had the knack of making an overgrown one feel better. She had a Whopper, fries, and a shake, too, only she had the normal person size, not the industrial size. We ate our lunch and went over a few billing questions on cases I was working. She told me about her last date with Fred, and said he'd asked her to go on a cruise with him.

"Are you going?" I asked, happy that my little matchmaking endeavor had worked so well for them. They were having a great time together.

"Well, I've thought pretty hard about it," she said. "I need to ask an inelegant question of him."

"Is he hoping to get some on this trip or is he booking two staterooms?"

"Well, that certainly skipped right over the awkwardness of putting it into words," she said, laughing.

"Hey, we're all adults here," I replied.

"He's been a perfect gentleman, so I'm assuming he's talking about booking two rooms, but he hasn't said anything specific about it."

"Did he book it yet?"

"Yes."

"Let's find out," I said through a mouthful, wiping my hands before grabbing the phone. "Who's his travel agent?"

"Sunrise Travel - a girl named Jodi. He keeps talking about how nice she is - I think he has an old-man crush on her."

"Okay," I said, flipping through the Yellow Pages and then dialing their number. "Jodi, this is Fred Ellerbee," I said, imitating his voice. Cora was grinning at that, watching me with interest.

"Good afternoon, Fred," Jodi gushed. "You sound a little congested - you're not getting a cold are you?"

"No, just the old sinuses acting up," I said. "Say, about that cruise, I can't find the confirmation paperwork you gave me. What kind of staterooms were those again?"

"You have two staterooms next to each other on the Promenade Deck. I can make you up another packet on the cruise."

"I'm sure it's around here someplace," I said. "I'll call you if I don't find it."

"They're lovely accommodations. I can't believe she won't say 'yes'."

Yes? Yes to what? A marriage proposal or just using one stateroom? Fuck.

"I sure hope you're right," I said, hoping she'd say something else. God love her, she did.

"Between that beautiful ring you showed me, and this trip? It's a shoe-in," she said. "It's so romantic - a moonlight proposal under the stars, overlooking the water. It sounds like a fairy tale, and I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"Thanks for all your help, Jodi. Talk to you soon," I said, hanging up.

"Well?" Cora prodded.

"Two rooms," I said. I could see her slump with relief. Older folks move slower in the hop into bed department that younger ones do - I guess, anyway - so apparently Fred not trying to get any without a bit more romancing was a good thing. I kept my mouth shut about the proposal and the ring.

"Good. Do you think I should go?"

"If you don't, I will. Sounds like he's got good accommodations," I said, and she laughed. "He's obviously still being a gentleman, and you'll probably have fun. I think you should go."

"But if something doesn't go well, we're stuck at sea together for several days."

"If it goes that far south, you can always fly home from one of the stops."

"I guess that's true, and there's no reason to think we won't have a great time. You're kind of a crook, you know?"

"A crook?"

"Just the old sinuses acting up?"

"You wanted to know, didn't you? Do you think I find everything out I need to know by dressing up in a suit and flashing my credentials?"

"Apparently you find out very little that way."

"Ouch. I was just getting over the mongoose analogy."

"What else did she tell you?" Cora persisted. Shit.

"Nothing. That was it."

"You're a terrible liar. She told you something else. I couldn't hear what it was, but I know she did a lot more talking than 'two staterooms'. Out with it."

"You'll have to throw me overboard and feed me to the fishes. I won't tell."

"Don't tempt me. Don, what else do you know?"

"It'll spoil it if I tell you."

"So there is something else!" she declared triumphantly.

"Cora, seriously, I get why you wanted to know about the reservations, and you know I care what happens to you, and I'd have to slug him in his wrinkly old jowls if he tried something unwelcome, but I'm not gonna spoil his plans since it sounds like he's still behaving himself."

"Wrinkly old jowls? I know he's not your age, but you make him sound like Senor Droopy."

"Figure of speech."

"Knowing what you know, you think I should go on the trip?"

"Yeah, I think you should."

"Well, then I'll need two weeks off in July."

"What am I gonna do here by myself for two weeks? You know what this place looked like when you started."

"It better not look like that when I get back," she said, shaking a finger at me.

********

I called the restaurant just to confirm that they had the right size table reserved, and I drove Cora insane calling her to check up that she'd gotten away from Don early, that no, he didn't suspect anything, and that she and Fred had taken the decorations to the restaurant. I called most of the guests again to confirm they were coming. On the job, I am considered detail-oriented and supremely organized. To friends I enlist to help me plan parties, I am considered a pain in the ass. I leave nothing to chance. I don't like chance. When it comes to parties and events, chance is not your friend.

The only wrinkle in my perfect plan was that, according to Cora, Don looked like "something that was called for and couldn't come." That was the same thing my mother always said about people who were dressed like slobs. Leave it to the love of my life who more often than not wore a suit and tie to work, to dress like a bum on the one day it mattered.

Well, I wasn't going to take him to his own party looking like he'd been dragged through a knothole, and I was a bit overdressed truth be told. So I'd just have to suggest we go out for dinner, and go home to change first. If I complained I was hot and miserable in my suit, he'd agree to it right away.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone rang, and his name was on the caller ID.

"Hello, handsome," I greeted, wondering if I looked sappy when I answered his calls, because to this day, I can't stifle a big grin when I see it's him.

"Hey, honey. I'm leaving the office. You want me to swing by and get you? My air conditioning is kind of working, and it's pretty hot to wait out in the sun for the bus."

God, how I love him. How he always cares about me, how he'd do anything for me. No wonder I smile when he calls me.

"I'd rather ride with you anyway," I said, and I meant it. I'd ride a broken down donkey through rush hour traffic to be with him.

"You about wrapped up for the day? I can be there in fifteen."

"That's perfect. I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat out tonight."

"I'm in my old clothes, so it can't be too fancy."

"Can we go home first and change? I'd like to ditch this suit."

"If you ditch that suit, we might not leave the apartment again."

"See you in a bit," I replied, laughing.

Don picked me up and we went back to the apartment and changed into casual clothes that were nice enough for dinner out. He'd been out and about in some places without air conditioning, so he showered before putting on a pair of khakis and a designer shirt I knew he was wearing to humor me. I'd picked it out for him when I was clothes shopping myself - a habit I got into because it let me build his wardrobe a bit without looking like I was...well...building his wardrobe. It was a nice cotton shirt with short sleeves, and a blend of khaki, soft green and brown tones. It looked great on him, even though he'd have never chosen it himself. I followed his lead, going with an old reliable pair of Dockers and blue shirt. Most of our guests would be in casual or business casual, so we'd be fine.

"Where do you wanna go?" Don asked, fastening his watch. He looked nice, and he smelled so good with that little spritz or two of cologne he'd added.

"How about Chen's?" I suggested. Since there's already a table for twelve set there...

"Sounds good. We haven't been there in a while." He sounded upbeat, but at the same time, there was something a little off about him. And then it occurred to me maybe I'd played this game of surprising him a little too long. Could he really think I forgot his birthday? Did he even remember it himself?

I wrapped my arms around him from behind while he was standing at the dresser, kissing his clean, sweet-smelling neck, nosing his hair where it was still a little damp at the back. He was grinning now, leaning back into me. I cuddled him and kissed him and nibbled at his cute little ear.

"I love you, Donald Strachey," I said, pressing my cheek against his as we looked at our reflection in the mirror. "I love you so very much," I added, and he looked a little emotional for a moment, and then he turned in my arms and we kissed for a long time. Long enough I almost forgot the party and threw him on the bed and had my way with him. But plans were plans. "Let's get dinner and then - "

"Have dessert at home?" he suggested.

Well, we were going to have cake there, but I wasn't about to derail his flirty pun, or reveal my plan now.

"Something like that," I replied, laughing, releasing him.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Mei greeted us cheerily like she always did, but she led us past our favorite booth, which was available, and kept going toward the back room, where they accommodated private parties like ours. Before Don had time to put all the pieces together, we were in the room, decorated with balloons and streamers, and our guests shouted a robust "SURPRISE!" that actually startled him enough he took a step back.

Standing around the table were Cora and Fred, our neighbors, Frank and Kevin, Manuel and Miguel, my boss, Sean Donovan - who never could turn down a good party where beer might be flowing, Eleanor Carrington, and my mother. I knew that one would floor him, but when I talked to her about throwing Don a surprise party for his birthday, she asked if she could come. She adored him from the moment he called her to arrange the blizzard Hummer caravan of Callahans to our wedding.

I watched Don, who looked stunned, then smiled a little hesitantly, and then turned and left the room.

"Excuse me," I said, following a few seconds behind him. He'd darted into the men's room, and I couldn't get the door open.

"Here," Mei said as she reappeared with a key.

"Thanks."

I unlocked the door and opened it a little, then stepped inside when I saw Don just leaning on one of the sinks there, his shoulders shaking.

"Donald?" I moved closer, and he swiped at his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll be out in a minute."

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not stupid. I love you, and if it matters to you, it's not stupid," I said, touching his shoulder.

"I thought you forgot because you never put it in your electronic calendar thing."

It shouldn't surprise me that my husband, the private investigator, would notice a detail like that, and then extrapolate something totally ass backwards from it.

"Donald, darling, I don't have to put anything about you, or us, on a calendar, or a reminder note. Baby, everything about you is in here," I said, touching my chest. "I put things in my calendar so I don't forget them, that's true. But you know what's not in there? Your birthday, our anniversary, my mom's birthday, my dad's birthday, and my grandmother's birthday. I don't need to put them anywhere to remember them. I suppose it didn't occur to me to put them on a calendar because remembering them is like remembering to breathe. You don't need a reminder. I've been looking forward to your birthday since we got together."

"I feel like a jerk. I thought you forgot me and you planned all this, and all I did was take you out for dinner and get you some flowers for your birthday."

"And you wrote me a beautiful card, honey. Money was really tight right then, tighter than now. You did the best you could, and it was wonderful and it came from your heart."

He put his arms around me and held on, and I hugged him close.

"It's been a long time since anybody gave me a party," he said against my shoulder. I stroked his hair and patted his back.

"Then it's high time you had one, isn't it?"

"I guess I should get back out there, huh?"

"Well, at least put in an appearance," I quipped, kissing his cheek. "Donald, I will never forget anything about you, ever." As he stepped back, I took his hand and kissed it, then held it against my heart. "You write me reminder notes on my heart." He looked into my eyes for a long moment, and his fingers flexed a little on the front of my shirt.

"What's your mother doing here? I mean, it's great, but all the way from Virginia?"

"She said she owed you one after getting her through the blizzard for the wedding."

"She's quite a lady."

"And you're quite a man, and the best husband I could ask for. I love you, honey. Happy Birthday," I said, kissing him gently.

"I'm sorry I doubted you...it's just been so long since anybody..." He let the thought trail off, because his eyes were filling up again.

"Mei probably put in the orders for our appetizers. We should get out there," I said. He laughed and nodded, hugging me again before we went out to join our guests.

Dinner was delicious, with all of us passing platters of food around. We had a great time, laughing and visiting and trying a variety of different dishes. After dinner, Mei brought in the cake I'd had made, a chocolate and yellow marble cake with white frosting and "Happy Birthday Donald" emblazoned on it in blue. He laughed at the magnifying glass and Sherlock Holmes hat on the cake, made out of frosting.

With the candles burning, I urged him, "Make a wish, honey."

He looked at me a moment, with one of those sweet smiles of his, and then he took my hand.

"I don't know what I'd wish for," he said, looking into my eyes. "I have everything." Then he kissed my hand, and the love in his eyes made my knees literally feel weak.

"A better car," Miguel suggested. We all laughed.

"More clients," Cora added.

"To bench press as much as Frank," Kevin added, and Don finally held up his hands to stop them.

"You guys make the wishes, and I'll just take care of blowing out the candles," he joked, and then he did blow them out. And then he kissed me. It wasn't anything that would embarrass me in front of my mother - just a nice, sweet, kiss on the mouth you'd give the person you love, just because.

The guests all brought gifts, and I loved watching Donald dig into his stash. Though he was making sure he made the appropriate fuss or expressions of appreciation for them, he has a love and a joy for opening presents that's just too genuine to feign.

My boss got him a Sherlock Holmes hat, which he got a laugh out of, especially since it looked like the one on his cake. It's still on a shelf somewhere in his office. Manuel and Miguel got him something he quickly stashed back in the box and laughed about, turning a nice shade of red. Needless to say, I couldn't wait to get home and see whatever it was. He'd just smiled and said it was something we could both enjoy, but not at the dinner table. Frank and Kevin gave him some kind of gloves to use for weight lifting, which he seemed to really like.

Frank got him a subscription to Popular Mechanics. Cora got him a nice, expensive-looking gold pen with his name engraved on it. She said he'd look more professional that way than digging some old Bic pen with the cap half chewed up out of his pocket to take notes while he met with clients and questioned witnesses. The two of them ragged on each other like an old married couple, and I know Don still misses her presence around his office, and still talks about her sometimes.

I had a present for him at home, but the one I gave him at the party was the receipt for a week's rental on a cottage with some beach frontage for the Fourth of July holiday. We could spend a week basically wearing almost nothing, sitting on the beach, swimming, or...whatever. He loved it and planted a big sloppy kiss on me.

My mother gave him a framed picture of himself, Manuel, and Miguel standing by the Hummers at a gas station, men and vehicles encrusted with snow. Apparently, he hadn't seen fit to tell me about the leg of the journey where he'd failed to notice the low fuel light until Manuel had to drive behind him, nudging his Hummer along front bumper to back bumper until they rolled into the gas station. It didn't even surprise me that my mother was hanging out the window of the gasless Hummer with a big grin on her face, waving at the camera. To this day, it remains one of her favorite life adventures.

She also gave him a nice card for "Son on his Birthday" and there was a check inside that she told him to use to get something nice for his office. My mother has such finesse; she knew money was tight for him with the business, but she managed to give him something and make it sound like she thought it would go for a fancy picture for his waiting area instead of a couple months' rent. While he laughed at the photo and appreciated the check, I could see it was the card that choked him up. It's always meant so much to him to call her "Mom", and to know she loved him and included him like one of her own.

"I still can't believe you flew all the way here just for my birthday," he said, tucking the card in the box with the framed picture.

"If you could drive all the way to Virginia in a blizzard to get me to your wedding, I think I can handle sipping a cocktail on an airplane in air conditioned comfort to be here tonight. Besides, that's what we Callahans do for the important family occasions," she added, squeezing his hand.

I wasn't sure how this motley conglomeration of guests would mix, but they'd all been at our wedding. My mother and Eleanor were chattering away happily, Cora and Fred always seemed at ease with any crowd, and very much at ease with each other, and the little banquet room in the back of Chen's was filled with good conversation and laughter.

********

I couldn't believe the party I'd walked into at Chen's. I'd never had a surprise party in my life. I knew about my birthday parties as a kid, so I'd never been blindsided by a room full of people shouting "surprise" and having people who loved me sneaking around and planning and scheming just to pull off surprising me. When I was supposed to wish for something to blow out the candles, for the first time in my life, I couldn't think of anything. I wasn't making that up or trying to flatter Timmy or anyone else.

I had the most amazing man in the world in love with me, married to me, and I had friends, and now I had family again. Family who cared enough to fly there from another state just to wish me happy birthday. A few hours earlier, I'd been fighting a major case of the blues because I thought Timmy forgot my birthday and no one cared. As I drove us home, I was on top of the world. And I was looking forward to playing around with the flavored body paints Manuel and Miguel gave me. A chocolate covered Timothy was about the best birthday present I could think of.

"Can I look in the box?" Timmy asked, and I had to laugh. I knew it was killing him to know what it was we could both enjoy, but I couldn't show around the table.

"Go for it," I said, smiling as he fished the box out of the back seat and opened it.

"Oh, my God," he said, chuckling. "Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and white chocolate. And there's even a little paintbrush included."

"Might be fun," I said, hoping he thought so, too.

"Yes, but not tonight," he said, carefully packaging the goodies back up again.

"You have something else in mind?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I have something in mind for you," he said. "I just don't want to get sticky stuff all over everything. Well, at least, sticky stuff that isn't a naturally occurring result of certain activities I have in mind for us."

"Take it easy, honey. I'm driving."

"Tell me, is it hard to drive with a hard-on?" Timmy asked, and I nearly went off the road. He can go from elegant and refined to down and dirty at a speed that occasionally gives me whiplash.

"It's uncomfortable," I replied, shaking my head, laughing.

"I bet it is." Timmy looked smug, and I couldn't wait to see what that meant for me when we got home.

I pulled into the parking lot behind our building, and we were in a nice dark spot. Typically, it wouldn't have been a desirable spot, since it was just out of the range of the sparse lighting our complex provided. There also were no security cameras. I was looking for a different apartment for us because of those issues. There had been a couple break-ins in the apartments, and more than one tenant had their cars broken into. I wasn't urgent about it since there wasn't much for anyone to get out of my car, and Timmy typically took the bus and walked along a well-lit route on sidewalks visible from well-traveled streets and then let himself in the complex's front door, which was well-lit.

I was the one usually skulking around the dark parking lot, but since I'm armed and not really all that afraid of a garden variety petty thief, I wasn't losing sleep over it. On my birthday, I gave thanks to every entity that was listening that we were parked in the dark. Timmy unzipped me and went down on me right there. My refined, cultured, elegant partner took me out of my pants and sucked me in my car.

God, it felt so good and the raw spontaneity of it made me come way faster than I wanted to. My head was back on the headrest, and I was gasping and shouting and Timmy was drinking me down, his hand in my pants, playing with my balls. I sprawled there in the seat, totally sated and blown away. Timmy straightened in his seat. Good God, he actually wiped a drop of my come off his mouth with his finger, and licked it off his finger. If I could have come again, I would have. Then he kissed me with a passion, command, and possessiveness that left me even weaker and less able to get out of the car.

"Happy Birthday, baby. Now I'm going to take you upstairs and fuck you into next year," he whispered hotly against my ear.

"Fuck," I gasped.

"That's what I said," he replied.

I stumbled along behind him, behaving myself until the elevator doors closed. Then I pinned him against the wall and kissed him back, grabbing him and giving him a squeeze that made him moan into our kisses. We barely contained ourselves to get from the elevator to our apartment, locking the door behind us and getting back down to business against the door. I wanted to return the favor, suck his brains out through his cock, but he dragged me toward the bedroom, us pulling at each other's clothes all the way.

Then he pulled back the bedspread, and revealed that the bed was made up with red satin sheets. Satin. Naked Timothy on satin sheets.

He took me in his arms, amidst the passion and the disheveled clothing and the wild pawing we'd been doing, and he just held me a few moments. He kissed me, then he smiled at me and finished undressing me and urged me to lie down on the bed. The satin felt amazing against my skin, and I couldn't take my eyes off my beautiful partner taking the last of his clothes off.

He kissed my feet and my legs, working his way up my body, driving me nuts. I've always had a thing for silk and satin, and the feeling of it on my back and my ass paired with the feeling of Timmy's lips and tongue working their way up my legs and teasing my thighs had me almost fully hard again. He nudged my legs where he wanted them, my feet flat on the mattress, my knees bent, all the important parts hanging out and accessible. He was licking me behind my balls, fingering me, then sucking on my balls until I thought I'd come right then. There was something so fucking erotic about him lingering there with his face between my legs, nuzzling, licking me, sticking his tongue in there and wiggling it around before sticking a slippery finger in me and greasing me up for the main event.

What a birthday present.

My arms were up over my head, and I was hanging onto the headboard, keeping my legs up so he could reach whatever he wanted. Once he entered me, I wrapped my legs around him while he pumped in and out of me, making me scream and beg and shout dirty words. He wouldn't let me touch myself; I was going to come from him giving it to me good, no hands allowed. That made me so hot I thought I'd come just from the proprietary way he was taking charge of my body and doing what he saw fit with it.

He wasn't sucking on my tits, or touching me anywhere else. He was just fucking me into next year, like he'd promised, focusing all my attention on that point where our bodies were joined, where my prostate was taking such shockwaves that I couldn't decide if I wanted it to stop or go faster. And he was grinning at me. It was a slightly evil, and completely raunchy, expression. He had me right where he wanted me, squirming and screaming and taking it, begging for more. I heard myself muttering something like "harder" or "fuck me" and even I wondered how I could be asking for more when I felt like I was gonna explode now.

Shit. He pulled out of me and urged me to roll over, and I did. God help me, to get him back in me, I would have put on a tutu and danced Swan Lake. So now I was sticking my ass up in the air, shameless and so hot for him I thought I'd explode, and he was back in me, riding me at a different angle, making me grip those satin sheets as his hot body pressed down on me and he was starting to grunt and moan and gasp along with me. His balls slapped against my ass loud enough that I heard it as well as felt it.

And then I lost it. I was coming, screaming, shouting, shaking, wiggling my ass all over the place, loving that he grabbed my hips and even then was having his say in my movements. After I'd come and was sprawled on the bed like a wet noodle, except for my knees still being under me because he wasn't done yet, he made his last thrusts, letting out a cry that was louder and more primal than anything I'd heard out of him before.

I had the presence of mind to move enough so I was flat on the bed before Timmy landed on me in a sweaty heap. He kissed me and cuddled me and said a bunch of love words to me. I was too spent to move, so I just lay there an enjoyed it. If this was being fucked to death, it was good with me, and I was prepared to die happy.

We shifted around so he was spooned up behind me, holding me. He was stroking my side and my hip and my thigh, telling me how beautiful I was and how good it was. I think I mumbled some things back to him about how good it felt and how much I loved him.

"I love you, birthday boy," he whispered in my ear when I was almost asleep surrounded by satin sheets and warm, naked Timothy. I chuckled, and so did he. He rubbed my belly and kissed my shoulder, and I couldn't remember a better birthday in my entire life.

"I love you, too, beautiful," I mumbled through a yawn, leaning into him, feeling thoroughly claimed, utterly adored, and like my birthday was the most important day in the world. What really mattered was that I knew I was the most important thing in Timmy's world - even more important than all the stuff in his little electronic calendar.

Like I said, when I've got my Timothy, what else do I need to wish for?