Date: Thu, 13 Jan 2005 01:44:15 -0500
From: Noni Y. Mouse <nonimouse440@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kiss of Life Chapter 12

It's been a VERY long time, and I apologize to all of you out there who got
into the story to have suffered a complete lapse in my production. I've
tried to offer a substantial amount of material for now, with an update
coming in the near future. I'm a bit rusty after having not done this for so
long, so please bear with me. I hope that you enjoy, and as always, comments
and questions and etcetera can be emailed to Nonimouse440@hotmail.com.
Thanks Guys!!
NM


Kiss of Life
Chapter 12



	From where he sat, Michael Dana could not see into his living room, however
he could certainly hear his... boyfriend... or something like it... rigorously
playing a game of tug of war with Jeff, his faithful pooch. As long as the
formerly one, and currently two men in his life were entertaining
themselves, (and consequently not breaking anything), Michael was happy
enough to give them space. In fact, he needed his own space- the events of
the last couple of days left him without much time to get to his job. He was
behind, but it was nothing that he couldn't handle; Michael prided himself
on being a fastidious worker and as a result was regarded highly in the eyes
of his boss. His boss, Stephen Crandle, a puffy, red-faced, short-tempered
ball of a man, while hating everyone else, loved Michael Dana. He was the
best editor he'd ever come across, and albeit that Stephen Crandle ran a
small town newspaper and a midsized publishing firm, it still earned Michael
a mark of honor in Crandle's eyes.
	Michael eyed the 30 pages of text that had been due the day before, and the
next stack of 150 plus pages that were due in the next 3 days time. It
wasn't much work- things were going slowly due to the economic crunch, but
the promise that things would pick up swam in the air. Michael pick up his
highlighter, (he liked to edit the old fashioned way), put on his glasses,
and bent to work. The sounds of the outside world slowly faded to a barely
noticeable hum, and he sank into the task at hand with ease. In this
setting, words were the only things that mattered; in this terrain he wasn't
lonely, he didn't have bills or headaches or... an unwelcome body guest. These
secondary concerns fell underway to fictional creations as of yet unviewed
by eyes other than his and the author's.
	Detective John Anderson and Jeff, getting tired of tug of war and romping
around the living room, collapsed in a heap and lay on the floor, paw over
leg, leg over paw, both with tongues hanging out of their mouths. John
stroked the warm, panting puppy, wishing it was Michael that was laying in
front of him, warm and panting and being stroked softly. The thought was
enough to cause his cock to pulse powerfully in his pants, and bloat to half
mast. Jeff felt the protrusion, and immediately leapt to his feet and
scamper away in search of less... bumpy... terrain to sleep on.
	John sighed after the retreating pup, and stretched himself out on the
floor. He figured that he might as well get a good nap in while Michael was
hard at work. He lay on his back, hands behind his head, and closed his
eyes, murmuring softly every so often. He found himself standing in a field
of golden grass, waist high, and in the distance the sun was setting in
yellow and red splendor. Two green trees framed the sun perfectly in the
distance, and set the grey white sky in contrast to the scene in front of
him. He was at peace- everything had a soft and divine feel to it. A warm
wind blew gently across his face, and he realized suddenly that he was
naked. The realization didn't alarm him- in fact, it seemed perfectly
natural. Yet as peaceful as the scene was, something was missing; something
compelled him to turn around, and as he did, spectral hands appeared on his
shoulders, and seemingly out of smoke, the naked body of Michael Dana
corporealized in front of him. And that too was not much of a surprise for
John Anderson; in fact, he smiled, and the feeling of belonging, of
incontrovertible rightness he felt within his chest, intensified, and
everything seemed natural and right with the world. Well, almost natural-
two short barks signaled the completion of the scene.
	Warm soft lips sought out his own, and John Anderson sighed in sleep and in
life; it was such a deep sigh that it brought Michael Dana out of his state
of intense concentration, and with unsteady footstep, (from feet long ago
having fallen asleep), and a most pressing urge to urinate, into the living
room to check on his stud of a houseguest. Michael found John Anderson
sprawled out on the floor, shirt raised well above his muscular tummy, mouth
framed in a small smile, hands underneath head, and erection quite evident.
In fact, his erection was so prominent that the head of it poked above the
waistband of his jeans, and a string of precum connected the head of his
cock with the small pool of the same in his bellybutton. Michael's breath
caught in his throat, the tingling in his feet suddenly forgotten, along
with his own heavy bladder, and he was reduced to staring intently at the
form prostrate in front of him.
	The gasp brought Detective John Anderson out of his own slumber, and upon
opening his eyes, he found himself staring deep into green eyes that shone
with desire and something else. He rose to his feet, and walked to wards the
trembling Michael Dana, cupped his face in his hands, and leaned in close.
	"I was waiting for you, but I fell asleep. It didn't matter though... you
were there too. You're everywhere, Michael... everywhere I would ever want to
be," the words whispered onto Michael's soft, cherry lips. Then, the oath
was sealed with a kiss- a deep kiss that pulled something up out of Michael,
something that was desperate and furious, something that was haunted and
perfumed, and Michael sizzled under its intensity. His body tensed, and he
kissed back, straining, searching, reaching, until there was nothing left in
him, and he went limp, kissing and being kissed with a healing fervor.
	John pulled away from the kiss, and held Michael away at arm's length; he
wanted to look into those green eyes, hoped to see reflected back at him
what he was feeling in his own heart. And indeed, something was in there
that looked like exactly what he wanted to see: devotion. However, there was
more than that shining in those eyes: fear. Before John could read any more,
Michael pulled away; he turned, head hanging low, and walked back to the
study, and closed the door. John, closed his eyes and clenched his fists;
he'd messed up somehow. He was going to set the situation right- he had to
go talk to Michael before he withdrew into himself even further. He walked
up to the door, and knocked softly. There was no answer, and she he twisted
the knob and tried to push open the door; it was locked.
	"Michael... please open this door. I want to talk to you... I want to
apologize... I did something wrong, I can tell. Please baby, let me fix it. I
want to make it right." He still received no answer. What John didn't know
was that Michael was on the other side of the door, leaning into the frame,
fighting the urge to rip the door open and throw himself into the embrace of
this man who held the promise of saving him from a life of absolute
solitude. How could he not want to run to him? How could he not... yet he
could not bring himself to open the door... literally and figuratively. The
closest he got was standing at the threshold, scared to open up, but
clinging... What Michael didn't know, was that John was not about to take no
for an answer- not when he felt as though he'd found his own answer there on
the other side of that door. In a mixture of anger, fear and desire, John
decided to break down the door.
	"Michael... I'm going to break down this door right now if you don't open it.
I don't intend to stand out alone, and I don't intend to go away. I want you
to deal with me, right now. If there's something I've done, please be fair
and give me a chance to fix it. If there's something you're afraid of,
please be fair and give me an opportunity to be trusted." Michael's breath
caught in his throat- and in disbelief, he felt his mouth opening, the words
spilling out that he never thought he'd utter to anyone else.
	"John... I AM afraid. I'm afraid of letting you in too close, of having you
find out certain... things... about me, and then leaving me. I don't want to be
abandoned, and so I won't let anyone in," and he changed his mind seconds
before uttering his vulnerability, "Please... just go..." He turned away from
the door, crushed that an opportunity had ended before it had even begun. In
his heart, heaviness set in and he steeled himself against the oncoming
loneliness. If he couldn't feel, then it wouldn't matter. If he couldn't
feel, then he couldn't cry and he wouldn't hurt and it wouldn't feel like he
was dying while his salvation was walking down the stairs and out of his
life. Instead, he heard the door shudder in its frame, and then splinter,
and finally cave in. Dust and wood splinters filled the air, and Detective
John Anderson's frame filled the doorway. His eyes were fiercely set, but
his stance was one of a calm, serene posture- he stared down at a very wide
eyed, open mouthed, shocked Michael Dana. John strode across the room, and
grabbed Michael by his triceps. He held Michael back at a distance, and then
pulled him into his chest, and wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him
tightly.
	"In case you weren't listening to me, I said I'm not going anywhere. What's
going on, Michael? I want you. Don't you want me?" This was too much for
Michael, and he sobbed into John's chest- how DARE he? How DARE he push into
this space, this raw, bleeding wound that had never and would never heal?
How DARE John push this on him? How DARE he bring this demon out of him, to
be named and given power over him... power over him to be vulnerable...weak...
dependent...and he sighed/sobbed, and pushed himself away from John.
	"John how can you ask me that question? I want you so bad I feel sick with
it; sick and feverish with the intensity of how much I want you, loving me,
touching me, kissing me, fucking me till I can't scream anymore, and have to
just lay there and take whatever it is that you're giving to me. I want to
wake up with you, go to sleep with you, have you take my dog out for walks...
damnit, I know this sounds crazy, but I even want to raise your kids. I
barely know you, barely know anything about you, but damnit I want you. And
do you know what hurts the most, John? What hurts the most is that I can't
figure out if it's because of who you are, or because you're interested in
me. I don't know you John, and I'm already falling in love with you for the
little bit of intimacy you've given me. That's not fair to you, and it's not
fair to me, but I can't help being in this position because of what's
happened to me... because of what I am..." Michael paused. Here was the moment...
where would he go with this? What did he want to do? And in his secret
heart, a place of perpetual hope, he hatched an idea and gave birth to it,
and almost killed it all in one swoop.
	"John... please... ask me out on a date. A real date- come pick me up, and take
me out to dinner, and try to get to know me. I know how you feel, and
believe me, I feel very much the same way. But for my sake, please... take
this slow. Make me feel as normal as possible. I'll open up to you bit by
bit, but your heart is the key... please... open me" the last bit he whispered
as he rose to this tip toes to kiss John on the lips. "And please, promise
me you'll fix my door, babe. And while you're fixing it, you'd better be
shirtless. That's the penalty I'll charge you for trying to bust the place
up." John laughed, intrigued by many of the things that were said, but
moreso extremely excited and nervous at the prospect of having to work to
bond with Michael rather than relying on the intensity of both of their
feelings to carry them along. He was up for the challenge- but he had to
clear one thing first.
	"Michael... I want to ask a question. Please don't take this the wrong way-
please don't get scared by this question, and answer me honestly." Michael,
dread filling his soul, resolved himself to answer truthfully to whatever
question John would ask- no matter what, and especially IF it broached...
that... topic.
	"Ok, John. Please trust that I'll answer honestly."
	"I know you want to take this slow... but... can I call you my boyfriend...? I
mean, it's ok if you're uncomfortable with the idea, but I just want to...
you're going to laugh, but I want to claim you in some way. You think I'm
going to leave, and short of a ring, this is the best way I can think of
convincing you that I'm not going anywhere. Will you please be my
boyfriend?" Michael laughed, but shook his head.
	"I can't agree to that until you know me a bit better, but I will promise
you this: I'm not even going to look at another man in that way until you
and I have decided what we're going to do with ourselves. I will tell you
that I like you very much, Detective John Anderson, and I'm so attracted to
you that you leave me a bit speechless at times. I'd be honored to be your
boyfriend... when the time comes. Until then, I'm more than honored to be your
friend." John nodded, a small smile gracing his rugged, masculine face.
	"I can't say that I'm not a little disappointed, but I guess my
disappointment is my sadness that you feel that I'll run away from you when
you open up to me. Let me tell ya, unless you're a practicing member of the
KKK, or you're a hit-man out to kill nuns, we'll be fine." Michael smiled,
and moved to walk past John and into the kitchen. "Where are you going??"
John asked, worried that he'd pushed Michael away again.
	"To get you a broom and a dustpan- you're going to have to clean this mess
you've made, Johnny boy- and remember, no shirts allowed!" Michael
disappeared out of the room, and John, laughing, began to unbutton his
shirt.
















The First Date

	It was a Tuesday evening when the doorbell rang, and Michael Dana, still
trying to button the sleeves on his shirt, hopped his one un-socked foot to
the door, and opened it. Standing there was Detective John Anderson, clothed
in a very tight tan colored tee shirt and nice fitting, but by no means
testicle-hugging, black pants. He looked so good, in fact, that Michael,
trying to stay off of his one socked foot while buttoning his shirtsleeves,
promptly put his socked foot down, which of course slipped right out from
under him, and he fell over onto his butt and ended up looking right into
John Anderson's crotch. Perfect first date moment- at least it began with an
amicable laugh.
	"Not quite ready to go, are you Michael?" John laughed. Michael got up from
the floor, scowling at the devilishly handsome John Anderson. The scowl
didn't last for long, and was replaced with a smile at the insistence of a
kiss from the beautiful lips of his savior angel.
	"Just about- come in and have a seat." Mike stepped away from the door, and
John followed. An excited Jeff the puppy... well, not so much of a puppy,
really... ventured into the living room and greeted his second favorite human
in the world. A bit of crotch sniffing, a bit of palm licking, and
everything was right with the world again for Jeff. He found a nice spot on
the couch next to John, and settled down with his head in the man's lap. Of
course, Jeff was NOT supposed to habitat the couch- it was strictly
VERBOTEN, (uhm... forbidden, for those non-Germanic people out there). His
hopes were, however, that his "second favorite person in the whole wide
world" would be a contending force with his "most favorite person in the
whole wide world." His hopes however, changed quickly from wanting to stay
on the couch, to wanting to stay indoors at all.
	"Mutt, get your BUTT off that couch!" a loud voice called out from the
bedroom. Jeff paid it no attention- he still was betting that his "second
most favorite person in the whole wide world" would still be a buffer.
	"I'm counting to three, dog- if I hit three and you're still on that couch,
you can spend a few hours on the deck. One... two... two and a half... two and
three quarters... three." Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a panicked
dog, realizing that the gig was up, made a mad scramble off of the couch and
tried to make it to the nearest inconvenient space. He almost made it before
two strong arms gripped his midsection, and plucked him into the air. He
turned in bewilderment, and woofed his sense of betrayal. Et tú, John
Anderson? Et tú?? John Anderson held the downcast dog in the air, and turned
back to Mike.
	"And what to do with this one?" he asked, amused at the disobedience that
had played itself out before him. Mike walked over to the trembling dog, and
looked him square in the eye- his eyes were focused on John Andserson, and
Mike couldn't help but to laugh out loud at the situation.
	"Yup, he's on my side, mutt, and don't you forget it! You can let him down-
I'm sure he's got the point now, John." John's smile turned into a grin.
	"You sure? I mean, I could hang him upside down for you, shake the change
out of his pockets, and then send him on his way." Mike shook his head and
walked away from the pair.
	"Whatever you think is necessary hon. By the time the social service agency
gets here, I'll have his things packed and have all of our mail forwarded to
our new address... in prison." John laughed out loud, put the dog down, and
rubbed him behind the ears. Jeff gave John one soulful, hurt look over his
shoulder, and started to snuff away. John looked behind him to make sure
that Mike wasn't around, and being that the coast was clear, slipped a treat
out of his pocket and into the pooch's field of vision. Jeff stopped, nose
quivering, tail slowly wagging and looked up with hope at his new friend's
face. John snorted, held the treat out for the dog and waited. Jeff grabbed
for the treat, and made a bee-line for the backroom. "Maybe there's hope for
this one yet," he thought to himself.
	"Well Mr. Anderson, are we ready for our first date?" Mike seductively
whispered into the detective's ear. One of his hands wrapped around the
man's inner thigh, while the other hand caressed a nipple. Detective John
Anderson swooned slightly, and growled deep in his throat. This was what he
wanted- oh God, it was what he wanted so badly. He leaned back into his
almost-boyfriend, and sighed contentedly as Mike licked and nibbled at his
neck. The arm that was teasing the nipple slid its way around John's waist,
and squeezed. Mike sighed into John's ear, and whispered, "I really
appreciate this... right now, whatever this is. We don't have to name it, it
may not mean anything in the long run, but I needed this...closeness... right
now. Thank you."
	"Michael... this is just what I needed too... thank you too, sweetheart. Thank
you." The two men withdrew, and without another word, got coats together and
left the house. Mike didn't even protest when John reached for his hand, and
held it at first tight, almost with urgency, then gently. They walked out to
John's Volvo, and John, being a gracious gentleman, held the door open for
Mike and waited for him to get in. After both men were situated in the car,
John reached over for Mike's hand, and clasped it as he drove along.
	They drove to a small, candle-lit place that was complete with private
rooms and live musicians, both of which were reserved for the Anderson-Dana
party. When Mike heard that, he felt a bit warm inside, and outwardly he
flushed and smiled. Anderson-Dana... had a bit of a ring to it... or would
Dana-Anderson sound better? Something to think about...
	At their table, a man with a violin stood unobtrusively in a corner, and
played quietly to compliment the meal. A bottle of wine and several laughs
later, the two men left the restaurant, full and giddy with each other's
insights, humor and good company. It was quickly decided that a walk would
do well to burn off a bit of the alcohol before the return home was
attempted, and so the two set off on a bit of a hike to catch the evening
breeze and to be with each other. Mike reached out for John's hand, and John
gladly took it; they walked hand in hand up the quiet street; a dense
blanket of fog enveloped the entirety of the town causing street lamps to
glow with a muffled corona of warbled light. Underneath the 4th lamp that
they passed like this, Mike surprised himself and John, but pulling John's
body into his own, and reaching up a bit to deliver a sweet kiss to his
lips. John's lips tasted sweet, with a hint of the wine they'd shared at
dinner, and his tongue was so warm and inviting. John groaned under the
attention, as his cock shot to rock hardness in his slacks. His pants,
remember by no means tight, left little room for his expanded member, and
the ache was too much to bear; he pulled away.
	"Honey, I've got no room to maneuver down there- we're gonna have to settle
for holding hands unless you want to buy me a new pair of pants after I bust
through these ones" he whispered huskily into Mike's ear. Mike purred and
wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck. His own erection was painfully
trapped in a very inconvenient position within his own pants, but he paid it
little mind. It was John's cock he was more interested in at the moment.
Thinking that thought out loud brought him back to reality and to his
situation... just when he'd almost forgotten for once, and felt completely
normal. Whatever went through his mind at that moment, John felt the change
in Mike's body language; he stiffened, and the hardened bulge he felt
against his thigh deflated almost simultaneously. Had he said something? He
wasn't sure, but he didn't want Michael to misinterpret what he'd meant.
	"Honey, what I mean is, this" and he brought one of Mike's hands down to
his crotch, and pressed it against his cramped penis, "You're doing this to
me, and as much as I like it, it kinda hurts to tell you the truth." He
chuckled, thinking that he'd settled the issue, but the look in Mike's eyes
told him that whatever the hurt was had not completely gone away. Mike's
mouth however, tried to cover up for what his eyes so plainly spoke to the
world.
	"Yeah well that's what you get for wearing briefs!" Mike laughed. John rose
one eyebrow, and leaned in so that his forehead was touching Mike's and they
were looking eye to eye.
	"Now who said I was wearing briefs? Who said I was wearing underwear at
all, smartass?" John growled, to which Mike gasped and turned bright red.
The implications were embarrassing, humorous and frightening all at the same
time. John took a moment to see the reactions flitting across Mike's face,
and then burst out laughing. "Yeah, you're right- my damned fault for
wearing briefs!" Mike laughed along and they began to walk again. Mike
turned to John.
	"So, I hope that you've enjoyed yourself this evening, John. I've had a
really good time- better than I have in a very long time," Mike said. John
turned to face Mike, stopping their walk again.
	"I've had a wonderful time with you tonight, Michael. I expected that I
would, and you haven't disappointed. In fact, I don't think that there's
anything you could do that would seriously disappoint me. Anything at all,"
he said a second time to drive the point home. He knew that Michael was
keeping a secret from him, and whatever it was left a heavy burden on his
shoulders. So much so that he pulled away from intimacy every time it was
about to happen. He knew that he'd just have to give Mike time, but in the
interim, he wanted Mike to know that he'd made a decision, no matter what:
Mike was his and that was simply that.
	Mike looked into John's eyes, and could see that he meant what he said... or
at least, he thought he meant what he said. If he knew the truth, would he
still want to be here? Holding hands? Kissing him? Thinking about his naked
body and wanting to press his hard cock into his body? Inwardly he sighed,
but outwardly he smiled. One day at a time, he reminded himself. One day at
a time.
	The two began to walk back to the car, sober and each lost in thought, but
happy to be in the others' company. As John drove Mike back to his
apartment, the though echoed through Mike's head again- one day at a time.
It would have to be so, and today was the first day in a long time that he
felt as if he could count on a tomorrow being there at all.
	When John walked Mike up to his door, he stopped Mike from opening it. He
looked into Mike's eyes, tears springing up in his own, and without a word
he took Mike's keys, and opened the door himself. He stepped in through the
threshold, and turned back to look at Mike.
	"I'm a bit too tired to drive back home tonight. Can I please stay here
with you?" Mike's eyes opened wide, and he gasped a bit- this was too much...
or was it?
	"You're more than welcome to stay, John" he said nervously. John began to
look at him funny, and he got even more nervous. "What? What is it? Is my
fly open?" he looked down, pawing at his crotch with an energy that was not
required.
	"If I'm going to stay here, I'd like it if you stayed with me too..." Mike
looked quizzically at John, "That means coming inside, Michael." Mike
started and realized that he was still standing outside and that John
Anderson was actually inside of his apartment without him. He laughed, and
came inside and closed the door behind them. He was nervous, and walked
around the house, turning on lights and looking for Jeff and doing odds and
ends. He turned beet red when he realized that John was still standing in
the doorway and watching him. He stood still as John began to move towards
him, a deer caught in headlights, and when John finally stood before him,
Mike began to tremble. John first caressed one shoulder and then the other,
and looked down into Mike's eyes. "I don't want to do anything more than
hold you all night long. I don't want to go places you don't want to go- and
to tell you the truth, we'll probably both be pretty tempted... and tented,
heh." That horrible joke snapped Mike out of his daze, and he began to
breathe again. He smiled, and let himself be touched. For one night, for one
night he could allow himself to be held. He could allow this moment to be
tender and complete, or he could taint the moment with his pessimism about
his circumstance. He decided to let everything go, and to experience the
purity of the moment- but with firmly established boundaries.
	"Ok here is how this is going to work: I'm going to wear pajama bottoms and
you're going to wear pajama bottoms. Don't put your hand down my pants- as
tempted... and tented... as I get, I won't do the same to you. Just ... I want
this as much as you do, but please... respect me... not until I'm ready, ok? Let
me make the first move if it happens, ok?" John broke into a huge grin.
	"Of course!" and it was settled. Laughing and moving together, they walked
to the bedroom, and began to get undressed on opposite sides of the bed.
Here, Mike's curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but to
stare at John Anderson as he began to take off his shirt. This man was so
sculpted- compared to his own toned physique, John Anderson was a walking
Adonis. A slight cough brought him out of his daze, and he looked up to see
a smiling John Anderson staring at him. A hot blush crept up his cheeks. "I
was just wondering if I was going to get those pajama bottoms- mine seem to
be unavailable at the moment..." he grinned. Mike shook his head, smiling, and
bent down to rummage through his drawer for an extra pair. John took the
opportunity to check out Mike's taut ass- the view caused an instantaneous
reaction down below, and his cock was rock hard, yet again during the
evening, and he could feel previous sticky and wet spots in his briefs that
told the story of dick lubrication gone to waste. He groaned, and tried to
not shift around too much- he felt that the slighted move would make him
cum.
	Mike stood up and turned back to John. It was impossible not to notice
his... condition, and Mike couldn't help it- he burst out laughing. John
growled and held out his hand impatiently for the pajama pants. Mike handed
them over, still chuckling, and John quickly divested himself of his pants
and then his underpants, and stood before Mike, now not laughing at all,
bare-naked. John was gorgeous- so gorgeous and hard and rosy and golden and...
before he knew it, Mike's cock shot to full attention; he hadn't been this
close to a naked man since... well, he didn't want to think about when.  But
the sight of John in front of him, so naturally... the dark hair on his chest
that contrasted with his golden skin, tapering down into a treasure trail
that led into a neatly maintained brown bush, and finally into an engorged
and very red at least 8 inch erect penis. It bobbed slightly, and a drip of
precum appeared at the slit before John bent at the waist and stepped into
his pajama pants. He pulled them up, barely containing the monster that lay
throbbing beneath its thin cotton surface, but Mike was already done for.
His balls tightened, and he groaned as the world seemed to fade to gray-
intense waves of pleasure were shuddering through his sensitive cock head,
and he knew that if he even moved, the slightest amount of pressure would
push his excitement over the edge, and he'd cum all over himself.
	Mike began to breathe deeply, and John finally looked up and realized that
something was wrong/
	"Are you okay, babe?" he came over to the other side of the bed fairly
quickly, but Mike, bent over double and bracing himself on the bed, raised a
hand of warning.
	"I'm fine, just... uhm... you know... excited... and stuff" he mumbled. John wasn't
too sure that he knew what that meant, but he was sure that Mike was fine.
	"I'm going to go do bathroom stuff before bed. I'll let you get dressed"
and with that, Mike was alone in the room. He stood slowly after a half a
minute, and took off his shirt- his skin was so sensitive and warm; every
movement sent ripples of pleasure down his back, and goosebumps traveling up
his arms. He got himself undressed as quickly as he could, and then into his
pagama bottoms. As he was done, John stepped out of the bathroom. "Your turn
darling." Mike stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. The room
unmistakably smelled of semen. He almost laughed out loud, but instead, he
smirked, hauled out his own 7 inch penis and jerked himself quickly into a
gushing orgasm. He stifled the groan, and shot his load into the sink in
front of him, coating the porcelin with his jizz. He sighed in relief, and
shuddered once more; then turned on the faucet to wash it all away.
	A few moments later, Mike stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the
seeming giant that lay there underneath his sheets. John looked up at him, a
smile of anticipation on his face. Mike turned off the bathroom lights, and
crawled into bed with his man. Mike lay on his side, with John snuggled up
behind him. John kissed Mike on the back of the neck, and pressed his warm
body into Mike's. They both sighed, and soon, drifted off to sleep. They
were even aware when Jeff, still fearing retribution and having hid himself
away all evening, climbed into the room, and snuggle at the foot of the bed
on John's side... also known as his spot. Day by day implied there was a
morning after to look forward to, and Mike, even though enjoying the moment
and the peace, couldn't wait to see what the sunlight would bring.