Roommates With Benefits [BL]

Chapter 153: Property of Damien Lockwood

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With a heavy sigh, I pushed open the dorm door, still feeling the pleasant exhaustion from my long shift at Joy’s Café mixed with the deep ache that reminded me of every moment spent wrapped up in Damien the night before.

The hickeys on my neck felt like bright signals under my collar, and I could still hear Maya’s delighted gasp and Joey’s laughter ringing in my head. People had definitely noticed. Friends had caught on too.

I spent half the day awkwardly tugging at the scarf and trying to avoid those knowing looks, all while the soreness in my lower body made every step almost comical. By the time I stepped inside, I was a mix of embarrassment, fatigue, and strangely warm memories.

Yeah, I wasn’t bouncing back from this anytime soon. Historians would probably write about it.

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‎"I’m home," I called out, kicking off my shoes.

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‎"In the kitchen."

The delicious smell of something cooking wafted towards me, pulling me into the kitchen, where Damien was stirring a pan with an easy confidence.

He looked effortlessly attractive in a simple black t-shirt that hugged his shoulders and some loose sweatpants, his hair still a bit tousled from the day.

Seeing him there, cooking dinner like we were a settled couple, only heightened the whirl of emotions inside me.

I dropped my bag with a bit more force than necessary and glared at him, crossing my arms. "There you are you menace!"

The smile appeared right away. "Welcome home, sunshine."

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‎I crossed my arms. "No."

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‎His eyebrows shot up. "...No?"

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‎"No welcoming me home, no smiles. Don’t act like nothing happened."

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‎He blinked, then a slow, knowing smile replaced the quick one, the kind he had ready for moments he anticipated. "So something happened at work."

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‎"You know exactly what happened."

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‎"I genuinely have no clue what you mean."

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‎"I spent my whole shift looking like a piece of modern art," I shot back. "Someone’s been busy."

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‎That made him laugh. Not a polite one but a real, warm laugh that he couldn’t help.

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‎My eye twitched. "Oh, you think that’s funny."

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‎"I’m trying not to."

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‎"You’re doing a horrible job. I had to go to work like this...covered in your little artwork. Maya spotted them right away, and then she announced it to the whole café like it was breaking news. Customers were staring, Damien. Staring! Joey hugged me and called me his grown-up kid. Honestly, I wanted to disappear."

Damien turned around slowly, that trademark smug smirk spreading across his face as his gaze lingered pointedly on my neck.

Instead of looking sorry, he seemed downright pleased with himself.

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‎"This is your fault."

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‎"My fault?"

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‎"You could have warned me." I pointed at him like I was lodging a formal complaint. "In civilized society, there’s a protocol for these things. A basic consideration. A heads-up saying, hey, maybe wear that turtle neck shirt today—"

‎

‎"I forgot."

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‎"You forgot."

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‎"I was distracted."

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‎"By what?"

‎

‎He stepped closer, the humor slipping away, replaced by something more serious.

His warm hands settled on my waist, drawing me against his solid chest, and I felt my resolve start to waver. "You."

‎He reached out, gently touching the vscarf I’d wrapped around my neck for the entire walk home, the one Maya had handed over from the staff room, ready for this exact moment.

"Well thanks a lot, asshole." I let out a huge sigh, all the weight of the day behind it. "Maya blamed you straight away, didn’t even hesitate or consider anyone else."

‎

‎"Smart woman. I’ve always liked her."

His fingers were careful, like he was handling something mildly ridiculous but completely endearing.

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‎"You kept it on the whole way home?"

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‎"I wasn’t about to risk another episode of strange looks."

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‎"You don’t need it now." His hands moved to the end of the scarf before I could protest, pulling it off with the casual confidence of someone who knew this was happening. The cool air of the apartment hit my neck.

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‎I instinctively raised my hand to cover it.

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‎"Don’t look."

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‎"I’ve already seen it, I made those."

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‎"I...It’s embarrassing."

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‎"I disagree." His eyes traveled to my neck with a specific look, the kind someone gives to something they put there without any regret. "Looks like someone very special came home to me."

I flushed and looked away to hide the red that was my cheeks (my face cheeks that is, although my ass cheeks were red too)

"I couldn’t help marking what’s mine," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate as he leaned down to press soft, lingering kisses along the trail of hickeys on my neck.

Each gentle kiss sent sparks racing across my skin, soothing and reigniting the memory of how they got there in the first place.

"I want them all to see..."

His breath was warm, and he took his time tracing the sensitive spots, his tenderness contrasting sharply with the possessiveness behind them.

"That you’re mine now."

I shivered despite myself, my hands resting on his chest, but I didn’t push him away.

Instead, a wave of newfound confidence washed over me, maybe it was the way he held me like I was something precious, or perhaps I was just tired of pretending I didn’t want this. I gently pushed him back until his hips hit the edge of the kitchen counter, crowding into his space as I captured his mouth in a heated kiss.

Damien made a surprised but happy sound against my lips, his arms tightening around me as he kissed me back with growing intensity.

Our mouths moved together in a slow, deepening rhythm that soon became more urgent. I could taste a hint of whatever sauce he had been stirring on his tongue, and it grounded me even as my hands roamed eagerly over his chest.

His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, tracing warm paths along my lower back and then further down, cupping my backside with just the right amount of pressure to make me gasp into the kiss.

The soreness flared up again, mixing with a fresh wave of heat pooling low in my belly. I pressed closer, rolling my hips against him experimentally, feeling the evidence of his desire pressing back.

Our breaths mingled heavily between kisses, turning ragged as hands grew bolder, mine tangled in his hair, his slipping beneath my waistband to tease the sensitive skin there.

Fuck...this man, would be the death of me.

I just know it!

The kitchen began to fade around us, thick with tension and shared desire, until the sharp sizzle of something catching on the stove broke through the haze.

I pulled back with a breathless laugh, my lips tingling and cheeks flushed.

"The food, Damien! It’s burning!" I scolded, though there was no real anger in my voice as I turned to switch off the stove, saving what looked like a decent stir-fry just in time.

The pan hissed in protest, but the moment felt interrupted, leaving us both grinning like fools in the kitchen.

Damien chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Worth it," he whispered against my ear, pressing one last kiss to one of the hickeys.

We plated our dinner together, the playful energy still lingering as we carried our plates to the small table.

I filled him in on the full extent of my café humiliation, how Maya had demanded all the juicy details and Joey had danced around me like I’d just graduated from being single.

Damien laughed proudly, his warm sound filling the space between us.

"Good. Let them know. You look incredible with my marks on you." He speared a piece of vegetables and chicken onto his fork and held it out to me with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I blushed before my pride could get the best of me and tell him to piss off, leaned forward anyway, accepting the bite from him, it felt surprisingly intimate and domestic.

Later, after we cleaned up and settled into bed, Damien pulled me close once more. I nestled against his chest, my head tucked under his chin as his arms wrapped around me securely.

The soreness had faded to a comforting throb, and the warmth of his body chased away any lingering embarrassment from the day.

He whispered softly into my hair, "You look good with my marks on you, sunshine. Really good."

"Yeah whatever man..." But I smiled against his skin, a small, content curve of my lips that I didn’t hide.

The day had been a whirlwind of flustered explanations and teasing from my friends, but ending it like this—safe and wanted in Damien’s arms—felt like the only way it could’ve gone. I came home angry about the hickeys, but now, I fell asleep in his arms, wondering how I ever lived without them.