Hey now, yours aren't exactly roses. *props himself up on his elbows and watches him, even giving a helpful wiggle to get the jeans off-- needless to say, he's interested in the proceedings*
"No splat. I plan on keeping you." he replies. "Don't move," he went over to the easel, took out a big pad of paper, debated on charcoal or paint. Finally he held up a charcoal pencil and a paintbrush,
Hey there, golden.
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"I have something for you!"
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Yeah? Is it edible?
*eyebrow waggle, because food is the last thing on his mind... ok, well, it's not the first thing on his mind, at any rate*
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"No, no! Not yet. Let go," he giggles, squirming from his grasp.
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You're terrible cruel, Jack. Strippin' me of my clothes and dignity and not even a pucker-up to show for it.
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"you will have plenty, later." he says, flinging the boots off, wrinking his nose. "Your feet, they stink," he says, working now at the pants.
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"LAy this way," he says, trying to position him.
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Aren't you gonna get naked too, Jack? Not as much fun on my own.
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"Rest your chin here, like this," he says, moving him so his arm is bent, resting and his face resting on that.
"good," he says, backing up.
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"What do you prefer, friend?"
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