I had just started my monthly deep clean when he woke up and wandered into the living room.
Nico dropped onto the sofa and propped his foot on the table I'd just wiped down.
He wiggled his toes. I didn't have to finish. How was I supposed to argue with that.
He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, tucking his arms behind his head with a long exhale.
I went back to the kitchen, wiped down the counters, scrubbed the stovetop, cleared the grease around the back burners. Cleaned the sink, dried it.
"Did you do the microwave?"
When I got the vacuum out he reached for the remote and turned the volume all the way up. I vacuumed the whole apartment over the noise of whatever he was watching, running it along the baseboards, into the corners, under the dining chairs.
Then I filled the bucket and started on the floors.
The kitchen went fast. The hallway too. By the time I got to the living room he still hadn't moved, foot propped exactly where it had been all morning. I crouched down to get under the sofa. He shifted just enough to make me think he was going to lift his leg; then didn't. I had to work around him. His foot hovered near my face while I mopped the stretch between the sofa and the table and he said nothing, just watched the TV like I wasn't there.
"You're such a good boyfriend. What did you prepare for lunch?"
"Seriously Nico? I've been cleaning"
"Fine, I'll order something. Bathroom could use a proper scrub while you're at it."
I took the bucket to the bathroom. Scrubbed the toilet and got the tiles on my knees. Wiped the mirror down, the taps.
"Don't forget under the mat."
"I know you know. I'm just saying."
As I was finishing the bathroom the doorbell rang.
"That's the food, baby. Already paid, just let them in."
I opened the door still in my cleaning gloves, took the bags from the delivery guy and brought them over to the coffee table. Nico glanced at me and reached up, wiping something off my face.
"You had dirt right there."
He patted my head and went back to unpacking the food, and settling into the couch.
He glanced around the apartment slowly, the way he does when he's looking for something to say.
"You get the trash? Kitchen and bathroom both?"
I didn't answer. Just pulled the bags, tied them, took them out, came back in.
"Now you're done. Come here then."
I got on my knees in front of him. He didn't look away from the TV.
His foot was warm from being propped up all morning. I brought it to my face and held it there, taking in the faint salt-musk smell. I pressed my mouth to his sole, dragging my lips slow along the arch.
I worked my way up to his toes. Took the first one into my mouth and sucked slow, then the next until I had all five in. I ran my tongue along them, between them, tasting sweat and skin. I cleaned every one.
He tapped my cheek with his other foot.
I did the same on his other foot, making sure I don't miss a spot.
He glanced down and pressed one foot against my face, resting the other on top of my head. Then went back to watch TV.
After a while he muted the TV.
He reached down and pulled me up by the wrist onto the couch and into his lap. He kissed me once, slow, with his hand at the back of my neck. Then he flipped me over.
He got my shorts down and fucked me slowly, his hand pressed flat between my shoulder blades, keeping me down.
He gripped my hip with his free hand, steadying me, controlling the pace. When I moved he pushed me back down.
He kept that pace the whole time. Slow and steady.
"Good boy. Cleaned the whole place and still ended up on your knees."
When he finished he stayed there for a moment. Then he patted my head.
We showered together. He washed my hair without being asked, fingers slow at my scalp, both of us quiet. Afterward we lay in bed, his arm across my chest, my face turned into his shoulder.
"That'll be the pizza, baby."
I lifted my head and looked at him.
He smiled without opening his eyes.
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