"I'd prefer nude over naked." Kieron gave John Paul a soft smile. "Maybe we should just have nudist day, today." That cracked them both up. "Seriously, you have to get away from out there, for a bit, you know, its really nothing more than that."
John Paul felt at a lull in bed with him. It was so much more calm than he expected, and it made it that much more fascinating to reach a threshold of pleasure that he thought would stop his heart.
And he wanted more.
He loved Kieron's olive complexion. Not that he'd asked how he'd inherited it or the like. "I suppose they call us the dark Irish, now don't they?" Kieron commented once, and it had somehow stuck as sort of a pet name for him.
Of course, Kieron had taken John Paul in and had not left any part of him untouched. He knew how to turn John Paul into putty in his hands. This elated and sadden John Paul all the same time. How had he ever lived without Kieron? How was he ever to face the world, again, without running back into Kieron's arms?
"I wish I hated you," John Paul said in tears, but he pressed himself against Kieron, instantly felt differently, entirely, especially when in the end Kieron could start the titillating rapture all over again with one stroke.
Had they been in bed all day? Finally, John Paul fell asleep. When he awoke it was late afternoon and he felt a bit under dressed. Kieron had on clothes. He didn't.
"Here's something of my brother's." Kieron laid out a sweater and jeans for him. "You'll look swell in blue briefs, as well." He smiled.
John Paul wasn't even sure he could get up. His body slight throbbed.
"Come on, shower," Kieron prodded. "What you need is a good walk. Then we'll eat. The Miltons have asked us to dinner."
"The Miltons?" John Paul wasn't sure he could do this. Dinner with strangers? Strangers who think he's somebody else.
"I'm famished. She's made a tasty shepherd's pie. And Jerry's homemade ale is splendid."
John Paul nodded. He didn't know what to say. What was he suppose to do now?