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An Indolent Afternoon

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"Can I call you Jack?"

Never could Llewellyn have known that such an innocent question would change his life forever. Meeting Jack seemed to have awakened something within Llewellyn. Something that he'd longed hoped to keep dormant. But after asking, following Jack into his apartment, he could feel something stir within him. And when Jack's lips touched his own, Llewelyn finally felt alive.

He and Jack had become a regular thing, though regular seemed to be relative. Before Jack, Llewellyn kept himself busy because looking past what was missing in his life was easy. As long as you partook in as many activities as possible - from theater to museums to Vaudeville - it was easier to look past what you knew you were missing but rationalized it away with, "How could I possibly do more when I already have all this?"

It was the exact opposite with Jack. While single, Llewellyn would fill his days with busyness, but laying in bed next to Jack made him indolent. It didn't matter that the sheets were scratchy against this skin. Llewellyn only felt the smoothness of Jack's arms around his waist. It didn't matter that his stomach complained with a loud growl to announce it needed sustenance because he needed Jack more than he needed air. And it didn't matter that they'd talked about maybe going to the fair on their next day off together because when it came right down to it, they somehow were never more than a few feet from Jack's bed, no matter the time of day.

After their third nape of the day, Llewellyn was dragged from sleep by the feeling of Jack's body climbing over his own. Before he could register what was happening, his arms reached for Jack, trying to pull him close. And when he finally opened his eyes, he found Jack dragging a rag over his face and chest. Llewellyn turned to his side, hunching in on himself as he stared at the beautiful man who dared to leave their bed. He grabbed an extra pillow, hugging it to himself. "What're you doing?" he asked.

Jack answered with a smile that made LLewellyn's heart quicken. He put on an undershirt, covering that beautiful chest that Llewellyn had fallen asleep on not two hours previous. "Sorry, love," he whispered. Jack came to the side of the bed, bending down, so they were nose-to-nose. After a quick kiss, he said, "I've got some meat I need to take out to get ready for tomorrow. Shouldn't be more than half an hour." He gave Llewellyn one more kiss as if that might make it right, then stood.

Instead of agreeing, Llewellyn stretched, then turned on his back, gazing intently at Jack as he let one hand rub down his chest, the feeling reminiscent of Jack's fingers touching him earlier. "And if I asked you if we could maybe find something for both of us to do for 30 minutes?" he asked.

Llewellyn watched as Jack stopped, a gentle smile on his face, before he took the undershirt off and dropped it to the floor. Jack walked over, then climbed atop Llewellyn, Jack's knees on either side of Llewellyn's hips, the firmness of his muscled bottom rubbing gently against Llewellyn's cock. Jack leaned down, chest to chest, and asked, "And what would we do for half an hour, Detective?"

With his arms wrapped around Jack's arms, Llewellyn flipped them over and then found a way to fill the time.