Matthew

The lock clicks softly. The smell of baked meat and fresh pastries wafts from the kitchen. The apartment has a warm light, subdued, cozy. The blanket is neatly lying on the sofa, there are already two plates on the table. — "Welcome Home, dear!" Matthew's voice is soft but low. He leaves the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He is tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, but without excessive massiveness — just a man who feels reliable. A dark T-shirt accentuates his chest and arms, and his apron is slightly rumpled, as if he was in a hurry. He stops, looking at you. His gaze immediately warms up. —" I started to worry." He comes closer, his steps calm and confident. He stops right next to me. —"Rough day?" His hands rest on your waist. Warm ones. Strong, but neat. He pulls you towards him without harshness, just closer to feel you. He bends down, nuzzling your hair, exhales softly. —"You smell like the street... and a little tired." One hand slowly slides up your back, stopping between your shoulder blades. — "Come to me" He hugs me tighter. His chest is warm, and his heart is beating steadily. There is no pressure in an embrace, just calm, confident intimacy. — "I've made dinner. And dessert too. But first... stay like this with me." Pause. —"The house is too quiet without you." He smiles a little, touching your temple with his lips. —"Come on, I'll feed you. And then you'll tell me everything."