‘Is this not your permanent residence?’ I can’t imagine ever wanting to not live here.
‘No, not really. I have a place in Germany– smaller than this– and I often stay with my parents when I’m over there. I don’t really think of any of them as home.’
NowthatI could relate to. I don’t even have my own place in the States. I always stay with my parents when I’m back in Tennessee, which makes me feel like a child.
‘Well, if you ever need a house-sitter, just let me know!’ I’m only half kidding, because I would happily stay here forever.
‘You’re welcome here anytime, man. I’m probably not here enough. I have someone who comes and cleans it every week when I’m away, and who keeps an eye on the place.’ He fiddles with the edge of the comforter on the bed as I pop my case down on the rug and unzip it.
‘I have to go and film a couple of brand videos and then record this podcast, but I’ll be done like five-ish, so dinner for six?’
‘Sounds good. Thanks again.’
‘Make yourself at home. Gym’s to the left and the home cinema the other side.’ He pulls the door halfway shut behind him and heads down the corridor to what I’m assuming is his bedroom.
I take a second to flop down on the massive bed, the amethyst-coloured comforter like a cloud beneath my back. I desperately need some sleep after last night’s craziness, this morning’s hangover and then the abortive early morning run, but in the back of my mind I know I should be working on my PhD thesis. The deadline is slowly creeping up on me and as work gets more and more busy, I can’t afford to drop the ball.
Ten minutes. I’ll just lie here for ten minutes and then I’ll get up and maybe make use of the gym and settle in for some writing.
I wake up an hour later, legs draped half off the bed and my mouth dry, but at least I feel more human.
I run for thirty minutes on the treadmill and even try out some of his fancy weights machines, before showering in the biggest bathroom I’ve ever seen classed as anen suite. I change into a comfy pair of sweatpants and an RBF quarter zip. Grabbing my laptop, I head out into the lounge in search of a comfy place to sit and type, but the second I settle down in a chunky armchair I’m distracted.
My eyes should be trained on my laptop screen, focusing on the aerodynamics study I’ve been doing, but how am I meant to think about anything when there is such amasterpiece on the wall? His naked form is practically taunting me from above the mantel, every curve of muscle begging for me to drool over it. I keep forcing my attention back onto writing my paragraph, but my traitorous eyes slide up to the paragon of perfection on the wall. I admire the way the light kisses his brown skin, the dips and hollows where the shadows form, the way he exudes strength and vitality. But I’m most caught up in the beauty of his features and the teasing look in his eyes. It’s like he knows he’s being watched and he likes it, because he’s the one in control of how I’m responding.
Indeed, my own body cannot help responding. My cock twitches and thickens in my sweatpants. I feel sparks racing up and down my spine and heat pools in my belly. I have to adjust myself to get comfortable again because my cock is springing up, hard now and aching for him to let the helmet fall so I can see the full length of him in all his glory. My hand creeps towards my groin because I’m starting to feel the need for release and?—
Christ, I can’t do this.
Slamming my laptop shut, I tuck it back into its sleeve and gather up my papers. I don’t like to work in bed, but anything is better than this. I pass the home cinema on the way down the corridor and slip in there instead. The plush velvet sofa hugs my body as I throw myself down and stretch out my legs across the thick cushions. This will do.
It’s been a while since I’ve had enough free time to actually lose myself in the research, but I soon get lost in the words, my hands flying across my keyboard as I flesh out the argument of my thesis, every point supported by data and references. It reminds me of everything I love so much about academia and how much my brain still burns with a need to learn.
I’m not sure how many hours pass; I don’t even really notice the way my ass goes numb from sitting for too long without a break. It’s worth it to see my screen full of my own words and ideas.
‘There you are.’ I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of Johannes’s voice coming from the doorway. Then I make the mistake of peering over my shoulder to see what he wants, only to find him shirtless and in a pair of shorts slung so low on his hips that it should be illegal.
To add to the crime, his skin is coated in a sheen of glistening sweat.
I should not have agreed to stay here.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just finished up a workout and thought I’d get started on dinner but couldn’t find you.’ He’s using a towel to dry his smooth, slick head but doesn’t seem bothered about the damp stretches across the full compass of his abs and I have to mentally tell myself to look away and meet his eyes, to not make this awkward.
‘It’s fine, sorry, I made myself at home in here. This sofa is insanely comfy. I got so many words written.’ Softly, I close my laptop and tuck it up under my arm as I push up off the sofa.
‘Don’t be silly, I told you to make yourself at home. I’m glad you got a lot done. I’m going to make beef and black bean tacos for dinner. That okay?’
Is that okay? A man who can cook, too? Yes please.
No. This is not ayes pleasekind of moment. We are colleagues. We work together. I’m not interested. And he can’t be. There’s no way. I mean, look at him!
‘Caleb?’ A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as my eyes track back up to his face again.Busted.
‘Yep, sounds good. Do I have time for a shower?’ A very cold shower.
‘Sure. Food’ll be ready in twenty.’
Plenty of time for me to get myself together– maybe get myself off so I don’t spend dinner ogling him.
