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No. 4 Contemplation

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"The question is though, can you handle my offer?"

He really should take some time to think this over. He should have known that 'this', Reese with that purpose written on his face, would go outside of the ordinary. But Reese truly was a piece of art; the scars marring his skin only heightened the attraction. Harold pressed his palm a little harder against Reese's back.

He had wanted, so badly, for so long, and now there was this 'offer', this 'challenge' presented. Perhaps it had been a bad idea from the beginning, to enlist Reese, he hadn't been the most stable of men at that time. But here had been something which made Harold contact him anyway. Call it a hunch, a gut feeling, that there was more under the scruffy clothes and the red-rimmed booze eyes. And he had been right. The man that had revealed himself from under the ragged shell, he was spectacular.

'The offer'. There was nothing clear about it, nothing outlined. Harold wasn't all that pleased with an offer without rules. But when had anything involving John ever followed the rules?

Harold slid his fingers across the broad back in front of him, tracing the old scars and the new scratches. They irritated him, the scratches. Had John gone with that woman just to get a rise out of him? Harold would honestly not be surprised. John might sound cool and laid back, with his whiskey rasping voice, but that was only a facade, sometimes the facade slipped a little and showed a completely different being. Harold had seen that being a few times and every time the slight tingle of almost-fear had drizzled down his spine. Just like it had when Reese walked across the floor.

He could feel muscles move under his hand when Reese shifted a little. All that controlled power, offered up. Who was he, Harold, to take on such a challenge?

"Can you handle my offer?" Harold tasted the words, tried them. Could he? Would he? What did John want? What was embedded in the offer, that was the first question to ask.
Harold contemplated the naked man in front of him for a second longer. The decision really wasn't difficult. "John," he said, "John."