The Demon And His Little Devil

orientation

"Wait wait wait wait."
I say shaking my head.
"I. Get to live... HERE!?"
I ask holding my bags, confused.

Miguel nods and bears his big white teeth in a smile.
My mouth is hanging open.
"What about you?"
I ask pointing to him.

He shrugs his huge shoulders.
"I live here too. I just have a different room."
He says.

We stand in silence as I process and take in everything.
I breathe a sigh and look around the room.
"So where is my room?"
I ask.

"Follow me."
He grabs my bags looking like briefcases in his hands instead of the giant suitcases they are.

I bite my lip unintentionally as my mind wanders to his fingers.
I freeze and mistake my head.
NO. WAY. YOU HATE THIS. NO.

I mentally scold myself until we get to the door.

We walk in and it's beautiful. It's like dark marble and the vibe seeps with dark academia.

Dark curtains and crystal chandeliers. Portraits of biblical accounts, black roses and white lillies.

I suck in a breath as I look at everything in awe freezing completely.

"You coming?"
I turn my head to see Miguel looking at me curiously.

"Y-yeah sorry."
I say walking after him.

I walk behind him as I see gold candelabra on the walls, and frames for pictures. Skulls and roses decorating walls.

"Here it is."
Miguel says motioning inside after opening the door.
I walk in and I'm floored. A dark room lit by red crystal wall lights, a king mattress with a dark mahogany frame and red bed drapes over the boarders.

"It's beautiful."
I say breathlessly.
"It's yours. You can change anything if you want too."
I look at him, confused.

"Change? What is there to change?"
I say with a smile.

I run my hand along the dark wood, noticing my boxes in the corner, only a little out of place.

He smiles.
Cute. Ah no!
"Im glad you like it."
He says, his eyes crinkling a dimples shooting on his cheek even with his obsidian skin.

"Do you want to get settled in or are you hungry?"

Before I could respond my stomach rumbles my response before i could even deny that I  was STARVING.

He chuckles.
"Follow me."
He says with a smirk.
I follow and we walk into a kitchen, this time white and pearlescent, giving a clean headache kind of feel.

"So? What do you want to eat?"
He asks standing at the pantry.

"Wait are you cooking?"
I ask slightly nervous but turned on in the "Oh my God this man his husband material kind of way."

He smirks.
"Why? does that suprise you?"
He asks coyly.

I quirk my eyebrow.
"Bitch 90% of men don't cook anymore what was I supposed to think?"
I say matter of factly when I knew I was at least a little wrong.

He rolls his eyes.
"I don't know. Give me the benefit of the doubt?"
He asks.
"Now, what are you hungry for?"

I shruged.
"I honestly don't know. The only thing I'm used to eating is boxed Mac n cheese."
I say bluntly.

He smiles.
"Alright, then we'll experiment."
He says. The double meaning shining through just a little.

I blush and hide my face in my hands.
I sit and wait as be places a bowl of gumbo in front of me.

"Now eat. And enjoy. Well talk about your work tomarow after breakfast."

He says as he scoops a bowl for himself.

We eat and when I walk to my room I find all my clothes in boxes. I pull out my commies pair of nightgowns which (unlike last time I saw them) look brand new and washed.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I slip them on as I shake my head, stopping myself from questioning.

I slip into my new bed and within 5 minutes I'm out like I'm in a coma.

"Now sit. And enjoy."