His eyebrows shoot up, and he reaches for the door.Yes!Success.
* * * *
Chapter 14
Simon
I make tea.I have no idea why.Because Boris tells me to?I drink tea if I have a sore throat, but rarely otherwise.
He's watching my every move."When do you need to pick Ira up?"
"Fuck, I need to call the school and cancel the after-school curriculum."I fumble with my phone.Hopefully, they won't charge me for this week if I can get hold of them now before he starts for the day.I have some vague memory of the guidelines saying there is a fifteen-day notice period, but it's worth a try.
I walk into the living room to make the call, leaving Boris in the kitchen.The woman I speak to isn't unkind in any way; she sounds sympathetic when I tell her about having lost my job, but, sadly, I was right about those fifteen days.She informs me Ira is allowed to participate during the notice period, but I decline.I know he'd prefer to come home when the school ends for the day.
When I enter the kitchen, Boris is chopping an onion.
"What are you doing?"
"Preparing food.Will Ira want a snack when he comes home?"
I stare, and when I don't reply, he drops the knife and walks toward me.My heart leaps to my throat.There is something predatory about the way he moves.I take a small step back, which has him raising an eyebrow, but he neither slows down nor speeds up.
"Eh...Boris?"I don't know why my voice shakes.
"Yes?"He reaches out and grabs my arm.The next second, he has me in his arms, and I find it hard to breathe.
"Come on, honey.Have some tea, relax for a bit.I'll take care of you."He nuzzles me before guiding me onto a chair.I don't know why I let him, but I do.
Once I'm seated, he places his hands on my shoulders and kneads my sore muscles.I groan.He says nothing and keeps massaging me.I want to melt into a puddle, want to hand myself over to his care, but...Jesus, I'm eleven years older than he is.He shouldn't need to take care of me.
"Ira?Will he want a snack when he gets home?"
I nod.
"Like a sandwich, or what do you normally make him?"
I moan as he finds a sore muscle reaching in under my shoulder blade."He...eh...normally eats at school.Sandwiches."
He hums."So I'll bake some bread."
My head flies up."Bake?"
"You don't have any bread, or have you hidden it away somewhere strange?"
Fuck.I always shop on Tuesdays, but maybe I should run to the store now."I can go shopping."
"No.You're to relax.I'll bake."
"Boris, you can't--" He kisses my neck, making goosebumps spread over my arms.
"I can, and I will.It's much better for him than the store-bought crap anyway."
"Chicken fajitas for dinner."He motions at a pack of chicken breasts he's plucked from the freezer."And bread for the afternoon snack."
"I...eh...don't have any tortillas."
He raises that annoying eyebrow again."I said I'll bake."
