I can bring the rest in later when John has warmed up to the idea of me being here.
“Fine,” he grumbles when I get back in.
I’m standing in the entryway again. The staircase is right in front of the door, and to the right is the very unfinished living room.
“So, what’s your plan here?” I ask, wondering what his vision is.
“Restoring it,” he answers simply.
“What have you done so far?” I prompt, hoping it’ll get him to move this tour along. I really want to see the bedroom, and then maybe that can lead to John letting me see his dick again tonight. Maybe I can even touch it this time. My own dick twitches at the thought, and instead of word vomiting that info, I hold it back. For now. It’s difficult though; I’ve never been as obsessed with anyone else’s body the way I am with John’s. I’m not really used to holding myself back when I want something, but I think it’s kind of fun that he makes me work for it. Delayed gratification or whatever my mom’s always talking about.
“You’ll see,” John grumbles. “Leave your bags there for now.”
I do as he says, and he turns around, walking in the direction of the living room. This space is pretty outdated with scratched-up, dirty-looking hardwood floors. It almost looks like he might’ve ripped carpet up. There’s wallpaper, an old TV still in the corner, and a boxed-in fireplace with plywood in front of it.
It feels like I stepped back in time.
John doesn’t say anything as I look around and follow him into the next room, which is the kitchen, and next to it is the dining room. The kitchen has wood cabinets, white tile countertops, more wallpaper, and such old appliances that I’ve never even heard of the brand before.
“Don’t mess with the back door. The lock is broken,” John informs me.
I nod. “Are you planning to do all this work on your own?” I ask, wondering again how long this project is going to take.
“Yeah, mostly. Liam will help when I ask.”
“Have you asked yet?”
“No, I don’t want to bother him with all the wedding stuff. He’s offered, but…” He trails off.
“You don’t have to do it all yourself, you know? I can help. Well, you’ll have to teach me, but I can also pay people to help,”I offer. Partly because I selfishly don’t want to live in this outdated construction zone, and partly because I feel like John thinks he needs to be unnecessarily independent sometimes.
“I want to do it. It’s just me here… normally,” he grumbles. “This is how I want to spend my free time.”
“We like to spend our free time very differently, I see. This is good! We’re already learning things about each other,” I comment as I look to the dining room. It also doesn’t look like it’s been touched with its brighter wallpaper, wood wainscoting, and an old chandelier. “Have you finished anything yet?”
“Yeah, upstairs,” he says, then walks back toward the front door to head up to the second level, but not before he grabs my bags and carries them up without a word. I love it when he does things like that; small acts to show how much he does care about me.
There are three doors upstairs that veer off from the landing. Two of them are open and one is shut. John carries my bag into the room I assume is our bedroom, so I follow him in and take a look around.
“So, you fixed this one up already?” I clarify, because while it might be slightly more updated and is in much better condition than the rest of the house, it still has a seventies or eighties feel to it.
“Yep.”
“Did you want it to still look old? Are you going for vintage?”
Instead of answering what I feel like is a simple question, John glares at me and says, “Bathroom’s the door to your left.” Then he turns to leave me in the room.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” I call after him.
“To make us dinner,” he mutters.
“Oh my God, you cook? What are you making?”
He sighs, but I know he’s only attempting to cover up his affection. “Steak and potatoes.”
“Sounds amazing,” I say, following him. He only stops in the kitchen to grab the food then keeps walking outside.
“Wait, do you only have one steak?” I ask, trying to peer over his big shoulder.
