Ed Sheeran [SMUT]

Twenty two

 Twenty-two. The atomic number of titanium is 22. There are 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet, and 22 chapters of the revelation of John in the bible. There are 22 cards in a deck of tarot cards. It’s the number featured in the novel Catch-22, the name of a song by Jay-Z. But most importantly, it is the number of years that Ed will have come midnight.

            There are few things in life that I love more than Ed. I love the way he takes care of the people he loves. I love the way he holds his music so close to him, how he tattoos all of the memories of the places he’s been on his body. I love the minutes filled with his spontaneous laughter, mornings full of his cracked bones, slightly crooked teeth, pale and freckled skin. I see things that I love, that I want. And I want him just as he is, with his messy hair and bad morning breath, terrible eyesight, rough calloused fingertips. I love the sound of his tired voice, the way his body stretches and extends in the morning, pulling me into his torso, wrapping me up in him. I love the sound of him singing in the shower, the scent of his skin. I love the way he indulges in my not so vicious vices with me, how he whispers into my hair and neck late at night. I love how thankful he is, how humble he’s become, how he pours his entire self and soul into his music and tumbles through his fast dreams. I am utterly and wholeheartedly in love with him. And on his twenty-second birthday, he is very well deserving of all of my appreciation.

            I have him cornered in a small club, his back against the bar as I move towards him. I hand him a shot; cranberry juice, apple pucker, and jager. He raises an eyebrow at me and I look at my watch, and back to him. “Red headed slut?” he holds the glass up in front of his face, examining it’s content, “cheeky.”

            We’ve been here for hours, awaiting the stroke of midnight, with tons of his closest friends, drinking, enjoying the company, and dancing.

“You are officially twenty-two” I tell him, smiling, as we both down our respective shots. He slams his glass down on the table, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me towards him as he slams his lips onto mine. The taste of alcohol mixed with his salty skin makes my head spin. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, before pulling away from me, smiling.

“Where’s my present?” he asks, arching an eyebrow, licking his lips.

“You think that all you’re getting is birthday sex?” I chuckle at him, and shake my head, “oh no, you are twenty two. And you will receive a present for every year that you have been alive”

“Sexual favors?” he laughs, pulling my hips against his

“No” I tell him, “You will find twenty two gifts given by your closest friends between now and tomorrow evening before midnight. Birthday sex is the last gift, Ed.”

“Even though you’re denying me sex right now, I’m kind of incredibly in love with you” he smiles, planting a kiss on my forehead.     

“Well birthday boy, you’ve just had your first present” I nod to the shot glass, before looking at my watch,  “and XO should be here with number 2 any minute.”

Like clockwork I watch as that adorable giant makes his way towards Ed and I.

“I’m here to give you your second present” he tells Ed, not giving him any time to react before picking Ed up, throwing him over his shoulder, as I follow close behind. XO carries him out of the club, towards the back entrance of our hotel, to the pool.

“Seriously?” Ed asks, trying to look over his shoulder,

            “Happy Birthday Ed” he laughs, tossing Ed into the pool, clothes, shoes and all. Ed surfaces, laughing when he finally gets a breath of air.