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18. TAYLOR
It was nice, spending time with Asher again. Things were different, of course, since we’d both been through different things. Asher managed to make things right at the Manor, and Gabriel had apologized, but I wasn’t quite ready to accept that just yet. He’d almost ruined the best thing I’d ever had.
There were benefits for Asher, almost semi-living with me for the time. I was able to coach him through studying for the exam. I didn’t know much about what was on that paper since it was unseen beforehand, but I was told it would include questions from all the different modules we’d been studying.
It had been a couple weeks from when I’d rescued Asher from himself in the Manor. He was ready for his tests, and I was almost no longer his teacher. But he still had to keep up appearances at the fraternity. I didn’t mind that much, since I was so used to living alone.
Today, however, was his final exam, marking the end of being his teacher. His fraternity was throwing a huge party, but he’d promised to come and see me before he went just so he could tell me how he thought the test went and I’d promised I’d make us a meal.
My culinary creativity was back, at least. I was no longer an idiot sandwich.
I’d made my own pasta and sauce, it was simple, but delicious, and paired it with a nice white wine. It felt quite adult of us, especially after most of our time was spent in play as him being small and kitten like while I was his dominant Master.
“You’re early,” I called out at the sound of the front door opening.
I listened to him kick his shoes off, and then rearrange them neatly.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, walking into the kitchen, he pulled his t-shirt up over his head. “It’s so hot in here.”
I was stirring the pasta sauce I’d made from fresh tomatoes, garlic, onion, and all the fresh herbs I could find at the wholefood store. “I’m almost done,” I said. “You want to set the table. I have a bottle of white wine too.”
“Babe, you know I can’t drink, I have to get back on my bike to the frat house,” he said, cuddling against my back. He wrapped his arms around me.
“Then I’ll drive you,” I said. “The wine is good. I made sure to pair it with the pasta.”
He slipped a hand down the front of my trousers. “It’s soft.”
“It’s resting,” I said quietly. “Shh, you don’t want to start something you can’t finish.” And I knew he wouldn’t be able to take all my pasta, sauce, and my meat as well. At least not in the allotted time he’d given me since he was a man in demand.
He let go and washed his hands before setting the table.
It was so nice to have him give this place life, even when he wasn’t here, he’d been here so much, he left part of himself around, and it stayed long after he was out of the apartment.
Plating the food and pouring the wine, I waited for him to get back from the bathroom.
In a nice blue shirt, he sat opposite me.
“You got dressed for me,” I noted. “I think you look perfect.”
“And I think you look delicious,” he said.
“Me or the food?”
He looked up from me and down to the food. “You said it’s fresh pasta, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then definitely the food,” he chuckled, slapping his lips together. “I’m kidding. I’m sure you’re delicious too, but it’s been so long since I’ve tasted you that I don’t quite remember.”
“This morning,” I reminded him. “Do you remember?”
“Oh yeah,” he continued to chuckle. “Well, good news is, I think it worked.”
His idea was swallowing my cum would’ve improved his brain performance. Only time would tell when the exam results came out whether or not that was true. “That’s good. You got a performance enhancer, and I got a great blow job.”
“You thought it was great?” he asked, lifting his glass of wine.
“It was the best I’d ever had,” I said, wondering how much more I could stroke his ego. “Cheers.” I lifted my glass to his.
As we ate and made prolonged eye contact, I was disappearing into the feeling he gave me. The look in his eyes, and the way he made me feel loved. It was enchanting. I didn’t want it to leave me, and I was scared that it would vanish at any moment.
“Next week, I’ll start moving my stuff in,” he said, scarfing down the food like someone was going to snatch it from his plate. “Is that ok?”
“Sure.” I’d already made space for him in the closet and the drawers. “If you need help with it, you know I can.”
