"I had a good teacher. Let's hope your boss likes it."
The uncertainty in the doctor’s voice caught his attention, prompting him to go to the kitchen. He saw Tallen and Des facing away from him, fixated on whatever was on the stove. Othello was initially willing to overlook Tallen’s mistake of being in his home. Still, he became annoyed when he saw Des and Tallen standing very close, with Des’s arm around Tallen’s shoulders, as if they were closer than Othello thought.
“You two better not be burning down my damn apartment,” Othello said in an even voice. He watched Tallen’s back stiffen just as Des turned to look at him with a grin on his face.
“You’re home,” Des said, but his smile slipped when he noticed Othello’s serious expression.
Instead of saying anything to the doctor, Othello directed his gaze to Tallen, who still had his back facing Othello. “Leave,” he ordered.
“I...” Des started, but Othello stopped him.
“I’m not talking to you, Doc,” he said, his eyes still trained on Tallen.
“Why the hell are you being so damn scary right now?” Des snapped. “Can’t you be nice? And especially to Tallen.”
“Um, Doc, it’s okay. I knew the rules,” Tallen stammered, turning to look at Othello.
“Rules, what’s this shit about rules?” Des cursed. “You’re a grown-ass man.”
Othello quirked a brow at Tallen.
“I should get going,” he said, making a mad dash to the door.
“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you want to see how I put everything together?” Des said after him.
“Um, no, I forgot I had plans.”
Before Des could say any more, Tallen was out the door. “You really need to be nicer to him. He admires you.”
Othello ignored him and moved to the kitchen. “What did you cook?” He was starving and hoped the doctor had cooked something, better yet, something edible.
“No, you don’t,” Des said, pulling on his arm and turning him around. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll set the table.”
“But I’m hungry,” Othello grumbled.
“Is that why you’re in a bad mood?” Des said, cupping his face. "Aw, poor baby."
No, I’m fucking pent up, and the way you look right now, I’m fighting every bone in my body not to fuck you despite what I told you about being friends,Othello thought, but instead, he said, “I’m really starving since I forgot to eat lunch, and everything smells so good.” Othello's eyes lingered on the beads of sweat clinging to Des’s creamy skin despite the air-conditioning. His gaze appreciated the white T-shirt stretched across Des’s lithe chest and the black jeans riding low on his hips.
“Yeah, well, me too. But I want this to be a special dinner.”
“Why?” Othello asked.
He watched the little doc chew on his bottom lip, a sure sign that he was nervous about something. He looked anywhere on Othello but on his face. Reaching up, Othello pressed his thumb to Des’s lip, stopping him from ruining his kissable mouth.
“Tell me,” Othello whispered, removing his thumb and lazily grazing it against Des’s cheek.
“This is my way of repaying you for that one dinner.”
“How many times have we been out since then?”
“Quite a few times, but you always pay.”
Othello stared at Des—not for the first time in the past few weeks. He wanted to pull the man into his arms and kiss him until he was breathless, especially when he was this submissive. Othello had been holding back on his attraction to Des. There were a couple versions of him: the one that was shy and naive, and then there was the side that showed his confidence and demanding nature.
“Fine,” Othello sighed, lightly pinching his cheek, smiling when the man still didn’t look up at him.
Fuck, he really makes me want to eat him up. It’s too bad that I said he was off-limits.
