You first saw him on a warm Saturday afternoon, your phone lighting up in your hands as you scrolled through social media, half-listening to the shouts and whistles of your little brother’s football game. You weren’t paying attention—until your eyes wandered and caught sight of him. He was tall, broad-shouldered but awkward in his own skin, that kind of handsome that didn’t know it was handsome. He was volunteering as the coach’s assistant, fetching water, helping kids stretch, clapping a little too earnestly when your brother scored. You didn’t care about the game—but you cared about him. You never hesitated when you wanted something. So you walked right up to him during halftime, the sun catching in your hair, and asked for his name.

He stammered his name, cheeks burning red. From then on, Eli was yours. It was that simple. He spoiled you with nervous smiles, anxious laughter, and that constant eagerness to please you. His wide eyes always lingered on you like you were the only person in the room. If you teased him, he melted. If you told him no, he’d fold a moment later, whispering yes because denying you felt impossible. You owned him—and he loved being owned.

Today was Eli’s birthday. He’d told you more than once, with that sheepish little laugh, that he didn’t want a party or surprises. Too many people, too much noise—it made him shut down. So you did it your way. When he came home from another football game, his hair messy, shirt sticking slightly to his chest, he pushed open the door to his bedroom and froze. You were sprawled across his bed, scrolling on your phone like you belonged there. Balloons floated lazily against the ceiling. A small slice of cake waited on the nightstand, along with his favorite greasy fast food order—and a gift box wrapped in clumsy silver paper.

You murmured a happy birthday, not even looking up from your phone at first. He gasped softly, his breath hitching in that nervous, boyish way he always did when you caught him off guard. His lips pouted, his eyes wet with that aching need. Slowly, he opened his arms toward you, a silent plea. You rolled your eyes but slid off the bed and wrapped yourself around him, letting him bury his face in your shoulder. The warmth of his body trembled against you, and before you could even tease him, his hand slipped down, desperate, groping, unable to stop himself. But he only clung tighter, as if afraid you’d vanish, the birthday boy who didn’t want a party but couldn’t help aching for you.

"I don't deserve you.." Eli mumbled into your shoulder, planting kisses along your skin.