This time, Chuck woke first. He eased himself out of the tangle of arms and turned on his side, letting his gaze slide over John's body. His hands automatically began to caress John, gentle fingertips gliding over the body. He loved stroking John. He sure did love sex, but maybe he was a cuddle-queen, too. He so enjoyed this man -- his body, his mind, his soul. He'd never had so much plain simple fun with someone, teasing him, laughing with him. This man, whom he'd known for such a short time, made him happy. He leaned forward and softly kissed John on the lips. John's eyes fluttered. He looked up into Chuck's face and reached for him. They kissed -- a gently kiss, a loving kiss, one that hinted at the passion they had both just enjoyed, and yet, it hinted a so much more.
Silently they stretched, got up and went to shower together. They didn't need to talk just yet, they just wanted to enjoy the closeness. They washed each other's bodies, hands slowly caressing, cleaning, loving. They dried each other gently with big, fluffy towels, wrapped them around each other and drifted towards the family room. While the rest of the house was filled with antiques and art, this room was homey -- a couch and love seat, a TV, books, books and more books, and an antique Japanese coffee table. There were windows all around the room letting in the light and opening the view onto a backyard which had been carefully groomed. It was a light, airy and comfortable room. They sat on the couch and gazed out the windows, quiet, just enjoying the closeness, cuddling, stroking. John stirred, "Do you want some wine? Something else?"
"Wine would be good, white perhaps?"
"OK." John went into the kitchen and poured two glasses, taking the white out of the fridge. "Here you are." He handed one glass to Chuck, and then cuddled back up carefully, holding his own glass out until he could settle in, and then sipping. Quiet reigned.
"I don't usually do this," said John.
"This?"
"You know, go out with someone and then end up in bed with him. In fact, it's been years. I kind of keep to myself in terms of my private life. It's just too complicated."
"Complicated?"
John looked at Chuck and grinned. "Hey, I do this for a living, too, you know. Don't get all therapeutic on me!" Chuck grinned back. "I've just been so private for so long that I'm not sure I know how to really relax and enjoy a relationship."
"Sounds like you've been pretty closeted. It also sounds like you're wondering about what to do now, where this relationship is going. That's kind of hopeful to me."
"Yes." John turned and sat up, looking Chuck in the eyes. "I like you -- a lot. I did from the first moment I saw you at the altar rail. It's been a long time since that happened, and I think I'm ready to begin exploring a relationship. But, I'm scared, too."
Chuck put down his glass, took John's and took John's hands into his. "I like you, too. It was also right from that first moment. Right now I don't know where this is going. I'm new to town. I don't know anybody, yet. But I really like you. Can we take this slowly and see where it goes? I know that I want to."
"Yes. Slowly sounds best, but I do want to see where it goes." John leaned into Chuck and kissed him. Then he turned around and nestled into Chuck's arms. Chuck rested his chin on top of John's head, smelling his hair, letting the scent of John fill him with its earthiness, its lightness. His arms drew John in, and he let his hand play idly with John's nipple, stroking down the belly and then back up again. He was content, at peace -- and he really liked that.
"You know, at some point we're going to need to eat again. It's almost supper time. Do you want to eat in or out? I can cook, you know."
Chuck laughed. "Somehow I was already pretty sure of that. I noticed the kitchen. Everything is in its place, the pots are hanging from the ceiling and I saw that they were copper. The knives are carefully arranged in a knife block. Yep, I was pretty sure you could cook. But, do you feel like going to all that trouble, or should we just go out?"
"How about I make us some omelets? That's quick, easy and I do make a nice omelet."
"OK."
"Right, you set the table. Come into the kitchen and I'll show you where everything is." John got up quickly. His towel caught and pulled off, he stood there naked and reached for the towel.
"Hey, no fair," said Chuck, "If you try cooking like that I won't be able to keep my mind on setting the table."
"Neither will I. I'll keep trying to protect myself from the stove. Let's go get dressed, or at least partially dressed and then come back. Give me my towel back."
"Nope." Chuck lunged up after John and John ran down the hall to the bedroom, laughing. "I'll get you yet."
They reached the bedroom, laughing. Chuck cornered John and kissed him, running his hands along his back, cupping his ass cheeks gently in his hands and squeezing. After kissing for a while, they disentangled themselves, got dressed and then went back to the kitchen.
Once back in the kitchen, John quickly took charge, showing Chuck where the plates, cutlery and glasses were kept. Chuck set the small kitchen table, found paper napkins, folded and placed them. He took the wine out of the fridge and placed it on the table, too.
Meanwhile, John took out eggs, milk, mushrooms, green onions and cheese. He quickly sliced the mushrooms and onions and left them on the cutting board. He shredded the cheese and put it on the board, too. Then he took out a pan and put it on the stove. He added butter and turned on the flame. As the pan heated up, he cracked the eggs and whipped them up with some milk. When the butter had turned a delicate nutty brown, he slipped the eggs into the pan, added the mushrooms, green onions and cheese, grated some fresh pepper and sea salt, and added a few herbes de provence. It was going to be a good omelet. As the eggs set, he quickly slipped some bread into the toaster and then turned back to the eggs. He gently lifted the omelet to check the underside, letting some of the froth slip under. After waiting a few seconds, he expertly rolled out the omelet onto a serving plate, reached over for the bread as it popped out of the toaster, buttered it, sliced it and placed the slices on the plate. There was no wasted motion; he knew what he was doing in the kitchen. It seemed to take only a few moments and there he was, placing the fresh omelet dish, still slightly runny, oozing cheese onto the table in front of Chuck. Chuck had already poured two fresh glasses of wine.
"A votre santé," Chuck said as he lifted his glass to the newly seated John. "Salud," replied John. And they set to, biting into the omelet, savoring each mouthful of nutty cheese, earthy mushrooms and gentle bite of onion, crunching on the buttery toast and washing everything down with sips of crisp white wine. "This is really good," enthused Chuck, "You really do know how to cook, don't you." John was delighted with Chuck's obvious appreciation. "Yes, I love to cook and I've taken courses over the years to learn how to do it well. It's a hobby and I like to be good at my hobbies."
They quickly finished their meal, put the dishes away (thank God for dishwashers!) and went back to the family room. John clicked on the TV and they cuddled together on the couch, just like any other couple, content in being close to each other, not needing to say too much. They watched some mindless show on the TV, just letting it fill the air, but their minds were on each other, on this new relationship, on just enjoying the moment.
"Are you going to stay the night?"
"Yes. I'd like that. But I have to teach in the morning, so I need to leave early to get home and change. Is that OK?"
"Yes."
They watched the sunset turn everything a deep, dark purple, orange, flashes of dark blue and then night enveloped them in a comfortable darkness, with only the TV flickering. John reached over and turned it off; it was an interruption now. He leaned back into Chuck's arms, reveling in the feeling of closeness, of safety and let himself drift. Chuck leaned over and whispered, "Let's go to bed. I want to make love to you, I want to love you." John felt a stirring against his ass; something strong and hard was pushing into him. He felt his own stirring, a new need rising in himself. He reached up and pulled Chuck's head down, turned and kissed him again, demanding, rough, passion rising. "Yes. Let's go to bed. Now."
And they did.