Unworthy Of Love (BXB)

42. News

I push the door open and the warm atmosphere of the apartment enwraps me, a sharp contrast to the cold December air that's been biting at my face outside. I kick my boots off and unwrap my scarf, then pause for a moment, breathing in the smells and listening to the clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen.

It's been almost half a year since we've started living together, but it still gives me a pause every time I come home. I wonder if Raven feels the same on the days he returns late and finds me there, going over my notes or preparing assignments. I wonder if finding someone waiting for him at home feels as heart-warming to him as it does to me.

I peek into the kitchen and find him by the counter, still dressed in his green and white uniform, stacking the plastic boxes with the food he brought from Bella Bueno. Working in a restaurant has come with an unexpected perk of leftover foods that the waiters of the evening shifts can take home. It certainly helps us to keep our food expenses at bay.

"Hi there," I say.

He glances up and clicks one of the plastic boxes shut.

"Go change," he says. "I got some news."

"Oh?"

He meets my inquiring gaze with a deadpan expression. He does look tired after his shift, but not sad or worried, so I guess the news aren't too bad.

"All right," I say. "You're not the only one who has news to share."

Satisfied with the curious look that appears on his face, I turn around and go to the bedroom to change.

He joins me there when I'm only half way through, with my shirt off, digging in the wardrobe in search for something warm. His hands wrap around my waist and his fingers start working deliberately on unbuckling my belt.

"Hey!" I try to catch his hands but they avoid me and dive down for my zipper. "Stop it!" I'm laughing in spite of myself, and then the laughter morphs into a low groan as his fingers find their way into my underwear. "Oh come on!" I lean on the wall with one hand and just let him work me up until he has me hard as a rock. When I turn around to face him, he looks at me innocently, despite one of his hands continuing its movements and the other gradually slipping into my pants to grope my buttocks.

"Missed me?" I mutter.

"Don't get any ideas." He rolls his eyes. "I missed your dick. What's your name again?"

"Huh?" I'm too distracted by now to handle conversations, let alone sarcasm. "Could you...would you... aah..." His head dives down, his lips tracing kisses down my chest and abdomen. I lean on the closed wardrobe door and look down at him kneeling by my feet. He looks up and gives me a mischievous grin, but his eyes gleam with desire; then he looks down again and his hot mouth replaces his hand around my cock. I stifle a moan and sink my fingers into his hair, feeling his back and force movements, trying to not force him, even though my whole being demands to go faster, harder, deeper.

I'm almost there, balancing on the edge, then he pulls away, the air suddenly cool on the skin where his mouth has just been.

"Hey!" I protest, but he ignores me, leaning back until he half lies on the carpet, his weight on his elbows.

"Come over here," he says. "I have plans for you."

So I join him on the carpet, and it seems he remembers my name, after all, because in just a few minutes he's repeating it like a chant, his hands rummaging about my back, his voice begging me not to stop, to keep going. I don't need much convincing, and it doesn't take long for us to reach the peak.

Later, we sit in the kitchen, my stomach grumbling so loudly that even he can hear it.

"Seriously," he says, propping his chin on his hand. "Don't you eat in between the lectures?"

"Saving place for the fresh stuff," I say through my mouthful of spaghetti. "It's only tasty when it's fresh."

"Bella Bueno is spoiling you."

"Both of us." I swallow and point my fork at him. "You wanted to share some news?"

"Yeah." He leans back in his chair and a content smile spreads on his face, despite his obvious attempts to suppress it. "Guess what? Conti has offered me an apprenticeship!"

I stare at him. "The head chief?"

"Yep!" He squeaks with excitement. "Him!"

I put my fork down. "Wow. But why?"

"Why?" He makes round eyes at me. "Because I'm good, that's why! I kept pissing them off, popping up in the kitchen and telling them what they did wrong. It was clear that they would either kick me out one day or take me in. So he called me in tonight, and he was like—come here, smartass, impress me. So I did."

"Impress him with your cooking skills?"

"What else?" He rolls his eyes. "Don't you go jealous on me here. Conti is as straight as they come."

"I was straight," I say, "before you came."

He waves me away. "Irrelevant, sweetheart. I won't let your jealousy intervene with my career."

An unbidden grin spreads on my face at the word 'career'. He's been so reluctant to make plans that it feels like a huge step, that he's planning something and getting excited about it.

"So," I say, "you're going to be a cook?"

"Possibly," he says. "Although I'm worried about the effect it could have on my waistline."

"You'll just need to do more sports."

"I'll just need to have more sex."

"You can count on me for that."

"There's a real friend." He tilts his head, smiling. "Aren't you glad? Surely you didn't expect me to be a waiter for the rest of my life? Not after all of those 'you can be so much more' speeches?"

"Of course, I'm glad. I just thought you'd go get a degree in something."

"One bachelor's degree will be enough between the two of us. You will work with kiddies and I'll open a couple of restaurants to make up for your pitiful teacher's income."

"You're planning way ahead," I say. "But I'm glad that you do."

"I know, right?" He reaches over the table and puts his hand on mine. "You wanted to tell me something, too?"

"Oh, nothing of such scale." I get up and gather the dishes to take them to the sink. "Just that I'm taking you someplace nice for Xmas next week."

"Cool," he says. "Where?"

"Let it be a surprise," I say, turning away.

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