Page 44 of Cuddly Demon

Saint nods, taking another sip. "I can see why."

When the steaks cook, I plate Saint's and bring it to the table along with the Moretum.

Saint takes a bite of the steak, and his eyes light up. "Wow, this is amazing. You're quite the chef."

I feel a surge of pride at his compliment. "It's all in the technique. You've got to sear one side before flipping it. And use lots of butter."

Saint laughs. "Ah, I see. That's why it tastes so delicious." He takes a bite of the Moretum and grins. "I'm impressed."

I can't help but laugh at his reaction. "You're not so bad yourself, you know? For a boy who usually just eats French toast and burgers."

"Hey now," Saint protests, pointing his fork at me in mock outrage. "Those are perfectly acceptable meals."

"Maybe," I concede with a smile, taking another sip of wine. "But nothing beats a good steak and homemade cheese spread."

"You know what they say," I joke, reaching for my own glass of wine. "Everything tastes better with Moretum."

Saint scratches his temple. "Do they say that?"

"They did in Etruria back in the day," I tease.

He shakes his head, laughing. "Well, it definitely makes my dinner a lot more interesting."

I pour some more wine. "I've been thinking. I think we should get our own apartment, beautiful boy. Instead of living in the campus dorm."

Saint's eyes tick up. "Oh really? I think that'd be great. We could have a lot more fun and freedom living on our own."

"Exactly," I say with a smile. "Plus, it would give us the chance to practice our cooking skills. Maybe we could even try out some new recipes together."

Saint grins, taking another sip of wine. "I'm up for anything that involves food."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Of course you are. The way to a boy’s heart is through his stomach."

Saint laughs as he takes a bite of the steak. "If that's true, then consider me yours forever."

I continue, my voice light and playful. "Or we could switch it up. You do the cooking, I'll do the cleaning. What do you think?"

Saint pretends to consider it for a moment before answering with mock seriousness. "I don't know… you'd be getting off easy if you don't have to cook."

"I'm wiped out from hauling you to Sardinia and back. I need a break."

Saint pouts. "But who's going to make sure that my steaks are cooked the way I like? It takes a true master chef to get it right."

"You've got me there. Alright, it's a deal—I'll do the cooking, and you can take care of the cleaning."

"I like the sound of that," Saint says, taking another bite of his steak.

We keep eating, enjoying the food and the warmth of our companionship.

"Uh oh." I just realized something.

"What?"

"I guess if we're going to be living together, we'll have to get two TVs. I think you're sick of watching that drag queen competition show."

Saint snickers. "Yeah, that would be nice. Or maybe even get a bigger one so we can have movie nights together."

"Ooh, I like that idea," I say, taking a sip of wine. "I think we should also get a popcorn machine and some comfy chairs. We could turn our living room into a movie theater."