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CHAPTER NINE
When they returned to the house, Carlo remained subdue while Kemper preformed the closing rite. Carlo was mystified at the feelings that were brewing inside of him. He helped Kemper stub out the numerous candles that were burning and he rolled and tied up the white Berber for him.
"Are you feeling alright?" Kemper asked him as he shut the closet door.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just tired is all." Carlo reached over and traced the outline of Kemper's hair. "Don't worry. I think I'll just go to bed early and get some sleep, then I'll be brand new tomorrow." Carlo bent and kissed him before he could protest, their first kiss in the Bahamas, he lingered a minute before pulling away. As he gazed at the pair of moist, flushed lips he was withdrawing from, Carlo found it near impossible to resist the tug back to his mouth.
Carlo thought about Kemper's firm mouth up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, and despite himself his heart began pumping blood faster to his nether regions from the thought of Kemper's lips. He decided to take a shower to help clear his mind and hopefully cool off. He twisted the knobs, hearing the water burst out of the showerhead and strike the glass door. The steady stream once again became his sanctuary. The constant drumming of water over his head was the only refuge he had to drown Monique out at times. But already since the end of the ritual moments ago, he was experiencing her grip less and less.
Monique's influence was evident enough, though, to keep his emotions in utter chaos. He hadn't wanted to stop kissing Kemper. Carlo would rather be with him at this moment than by himself. And this evening, he looked so sensual, so tempting. When he found Kemper standing, nibbling on his full bottom lip, daydreaming, he didn't think it was possible for there to be a more handsome man than Kemper. He was convinced inside and out he would never meet anyone comelier or more perfect for him. Their time together had been short, but remarkably enough to invoke love into his heart.
Honestly, it was a feeling he thought he would never feel again. Carlo had long ago accepted Monique's drain on his life. He had expected it to last forever and was prepared to endure it. Taking his own life had crossed his mind once or twice before he had accepted his fate, but he had known Monique was not worthy of him ending his own life as an escape. Carlo was going to fight her until the very end to prove that her evil would never win against the good he knew was worth living for. Even if that meant dying with her grasp on him, but Carlo would never go to her, no matter what she did to him.
So, imagine his surprise when he had finally accepted living under this devastating circumstance, accepted that his life would always be cursed, to now not only be falling in love again, but to be doing so with Monique's vice grip on him.
So what was his problem? The dilemma was that Kemper was so wonderful Carlo didn't see how it was possible to bring this instability to his serene world; he was the last person who needed or deserved it. He admired Kemper deeply for his compassion towards him and his magical knowledge and ascendancy. And he wanted Kemper so excruciatingly, it was challenging to keep his hands to himself most of the time. Even under Monique's unwanted drag, he had felt Kemper's own draw powerfully.
He turned the steaming water off and reached for the towel hook. The drain from Monique was almost gone, only a muffled presence of her magic remained, but he couldn't be certain that this would be the end of it. Until he was positive that Monique was no longer a threat to them, he couldn't take advantage of Kemper. He couldn't make Kemper care for him more than he did, if he could help it. If he made love to Kemper, he would be taking a step that he could never take back. It would be a step over a cliff with nowhere to fall, but into Kemper.
Once Monique's sway started up again and Veronica had become settled, Carlo had been enormously tempted to return to London. To remove the chaotic element from Kemper's life before matters got any worse and he passed any anguish to him. But when he gazed into Kemper's emerald eyes, it was as if he had taken off on wings and went soaring through the sunrise.
How could he let go of that? How could he walk away from the most incredible feeling that he had ever experienced in his life? But that is also the reason that he should walk away, because he couldn't be trusted to leave before he put Kemper in real danger.
His reason to stay and to go was the same.
The horror of the last year, suffering from Monique's black sorcery, had been paused when Kemper protected him. He knew he was being purely selfish by staying. He was craving rest, so maybe he could stay long enough to recoup some strength and before anything dire occurred. The torture of whether to stay or to go was about to kill him!
He lay in bed after drying off, fighting the urge to go to Kemper's room, going over and over all the possibilities and dangers of his decision. The principal risk in staying was putting Kemper in danger.
The second greatest threat being the fact that Carlo was falling in love with him.
That night when he went to bed, Kemper felt ambivalent about the spell. Carlo was in his own room; he had been staying in the yellow bedroom. Kemper still couldn't stop thinking about the fact that they had not made love, he seemed almost obsessed with it, but everything had been so crazy with the moving and enduring his ex-wife's malediction, he hoped it wasn't as unusual as his lascivious brain was making it. But Carlo wanting to go straight to bed, alone, tonight, the question of why they hadn't done anything more wouldn't go away.
Their first night in the house on Cat Island, a night when Kemper had of course been bone tired, Carlo had tucked him into bed. They had spoken in low, drowsy tones for a long while about any and everything, and Carlo had ended up sleeping in his room, spooning Kemper through the night.
He had to admit that through the conversation, looking at Carlo's muscular chest through his t-shirt and feeling the electricity that sizzled between their bodies lying only inches apart, he felt that he could have mustered up some strength for some foreplay and beyond. But Carlo had remained a perfect gentleman, letting him rest, knowing how tired he really was. He couldn't help but take pleasure in waking up in Carlo's sturdy arms and wished there would be more similar instances. He had been hoping that Carlo putting him to bed would have become a regular occurrence and soon he would never return to the yellow room having always stayed in his; no such luck, though.
But this would be yet another night of slipping into sleep, wishing Carlo's touch were on him and not having it, so it was time to alter his thinking or Kemper was going to end up frustrated and cranky as a troll before long. So, he decided to allow Carlo to persist in doing what he did best, being mannerly and a gentleman. And in doing this, he could allow himself to not rush into physical intimacy simply because his body was crying out for it.
They could go as slow as Carlo wanted to, because he now desired it to last forever. That feeling of new love-first love really. His heart pounding in his ears and his whole body trembling when they looked at each other, his stomach doing that roller coaster thing at the mere thought of him. And when Carlo touched him, fires burned in his imprints, and in other places as well. He never wanted that feeling to ever vanish between them. Besides, he liked the idea of a man courting him instead of wanting his "prize" right away.
Still, the dark lingering thought in the back of his mind questioned if the real reason they hadn't made love was that Carlo didn't reciprocate his feelings. Then why did Carlo stay, why didn't he leave if he didn't care for him? Or why did he kiss or caress him at all if Kemper didn't mean something to him?
A horrible thought of Carlo using him to help alleviate his summons from Monique streaked across his mind, but he tucked the thought away quickly, unwilling to believe it. It was his own self-esteem that made him doubt. Carlo would never use anyone or string them along; he stayed because of Kemper. He was almost certain of it.
Kemper went to bed early that night. The week had caught up with him and though he wanted Carlo, he tried to convince himself he wanted sleep more anyway.
It didn't work.
Soon he was reaching for the sleep aid massage oil, and with an oiled hand he squeezed his erection, arching his back up as the blood rushed to his cock head. He rounded the tip in his palm a few times and began alternating between stroking his hand along his rigid length to holding his hand still while pumping his hips up and down off the bed. His other hand moved to his sack, massaging, his finger drifting to scrape over his entrance.
He was whispering, "Carlo! Oh fuck! Yes, Carlo," his imagination taking him through the delicious things he wanted to do with, and to him. Kemper still didn't know his preference, but many of his fantasies involved sinking himself deep inside of Carlo. It may have been because the time spent with Justin, he hadn't been able to scratch that itch, but he was pretty sure it was because Carlo's round and pert ass was utterly fuckable.
Making it last as long as possible, he dowsed his hand and bare chest a few times with a stifled grunt and a hitch of breath. Using the tissues on the nightstand to clean up, he was relaxed and taking in the scent of sea buckthorn from the oil and his eyelids began to droop. Barely being able to cover himself with the supple jacquard comforter, sleep seized him in a warm, contented embrace.
He knew from the salty scent that he was on the beach before he opened his eyes. The scenery was usual. The water was sparkling with an unnatural radiance and his mysterious companions, too far away to see visibly, stood down the strand on either side of him.
He began scanning the area around him for any detail that may be able to help him, as he had done a million times before, when the man's head curved toward him. He couldn't discern his features, but Kemper kept his eyes locked on him in suspense of any statement that he might utter, any answers that he may bring him.
Suddenly, his entire body twisted and the man began coming towards him. A small number of steps and he became plainly discernible.
Kemper gasped. He was thankful his dream kept him immobile, because he thought he might have fallen square on his ass.
It was Carlo.
"It's over now." He gazed out towards the luminous sea, but at what, he couldn't tell. Kemper, as always, was only a spectator in this dream. He strived to inquire as to why Carlo was there and what was he speaking of, but he couldn't.
Opening his eyes suddenly, waking from his dream, he saw absolute darkness. Believing that he had once again tugged the covers over his head, he attempted to brush them away, but his arms wouldn't move.
"What the hell's going on?" his mouth tried to say, but his mouth and vocal chords weren't working either. Fright hurriedly swept over him, unsure of what was happening. The blackness began consuming him, becoming unyielding and tighter, seeking to squelch the breath in his lungs.
He tried to struggle, but no movement occurred and Kemper felt the drain of energy the stronger attempt he made to fight. "Action, take action," kept darting through his mind. He had never been physically attacked in a magical manner, so he didn't think to study any counter- spells, a very unintelligent reasoning he realized now. The most powerful thing he could think of was white light. He trusted it to protect and purify. Having more difficulty than he had ever had, he focused on surrounding himself with commanding white light.
He could only conjure up a pinpoint of safelight, but it was enough. He regained use of his throat and vocal chords again and he released an earsplitting roar.
The split second that Carlo heard the resounding shout, he was out of bed. He sprinted to Kemper's room, throwing the door wide open just in time to spot a black shadow with dreadful red eyes, slither up the wall and vanish.
Kemper was back in his bed again and the darkness had released him. Carlo was there at his side, staring at him with fear and concern.
Carlo watched Kemper's utterly colorless face, and there was a shaken expression set there, his eyes shimmering with terror as he coughed and sputtered for breath as he clutched him by the shoulders.
Veronica rushed, as much as pain would allow her, to the location of the terrifying shouts to find Kemper in Carlo's arms. She hurried to his side seeing the look on his face. "What happened? Are you alright?"
Seeing that Veronica was distressed, Kemper shook himself out of his shock. "I'm fine, I'm okay, don't worry," he answered still out of breath.
"Well, what the hell happened? You were screaming like you were being killed! I may have broken my stitches running in here."
"You don't have any stitches, just broken ribs and a bump on the head," Kemper told her.
"That's not the point. I could have." Kemper couldn't resist chuckling at her, but no one joined him.
"He was attacked," Carlo finally answered.
"Attacked, by who? How did they get in?" Veronica was starting to panic.
"Come on, I'll explain everything to you," Kemper said beginning to rise from the bed.
After a few cigarettes and watching the dawn while sitting out on his bedroom balcony, Kemper told Veronica everything about Carlo's ex-wife and the magic charms they had carried out. Kemper hadn't yet told Veronica that he was practicing magic on regular basis. She had been there when Madame Charity had enlightened Kemper of his magical aptitude, but he hadn't confirmed to Veronica that he had believed the revelation.
Veronica had a clue, though. She had always known that Kemper had the ability to make things happen, and that there was something exceptional about him.
"So you see, it is probably Carlo's obsessed ex-wife aiming to terrify me for helping him," Kemper said not sounding the least bit afraid of what had occurred.
"I don't like it, Kemper. I don't like it all. It sounds extremely dangerous." Veronica stood and started pacing the length of the balcony.
"Well, it is to some extent, but I can handle myself, as I proved this morning. I mean, I'm still alive and well. No harm done. And it's not fair to Carlo; it's not fair to anyone. You would help if you could, right?"
"Yes, yes I would. I know you're right, I just don't like it."
"She's right, Kemper. I cannot have you doing all this for me, especially if Monique is going to start coming after you. I don't want anything to happen to you...that would kill me." He couldn't help but hope that the flicker in Carlo's eyes was more than concern.
"Look, I'm fine. Nothing is going to happen to me! The summoning curse she had on you has disappeared, correct?"
"Well yes, but..." Carlo attempted to object.
"No. It's going to be okay," he interrupted him from disputing. "You two please stop worrying! I'll do some studying, I'll write some spells to protect us and this house better. I was naive to think they weren't needed. I can handle it." For now, he thought.
"You don't have to do everything on your own, Kemp. You're allowed to ask for help. Now, unless anyone has anything else to say, and Kemper's okay, I'm going to go see if Angela has finished breakfast yet." She gave Kemper a peck on the cheek then went inside.
"I don't think you should be alone at night anymore. I'm going to start sleeping in your room. On the couch, of course." Carlo was sincerely distressed; Kemper could see the anxiety in his eyes.
"Whatever you think is best." He yearned to tell him that he didn't have to sleep on the sofa, that he was welcome in bed, but he didn't want to push it. It would happen in its own time and he didn't want to spoil that.
They went inside to see Veronica already indulging on the scrumptious breakfast that Angela had prepared. They sat down and joined her, eating cheese omelets with homemade hash browns. In the middle of the table was a dish of fresh cherries, Kemper's favorite.
"We should spend the day relaxing and having fun. Angela, can we have mimosas with breakfast?" Veronica was more requesting permission than asking her to prepare them.
"That's a fine idea. Sorry I didn't think of it myself." Angela opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of champagne.
After lingering around the breakfast table, Kemper recommended they go for a dip in the pool. Veronica soaked in the hot tub while he and Carlo swam. He was elated that Veronica was willing to come out of her bedroom for so long. Kemper and Carlo stayed in the shallow end chatting with her as she simmered in the whirlpool.
"I'm getting chilly, I think I'll jump in there with you." Kemper hopped over the low wall and joined Veronica.
"I am going to get some laps in and then I'll join you." Carlo swam off.
"You were in a dream I had last night," Veronica told Kemper.
"Really, what happened?" Kemper asked interestedly. Because of his own experience with dreams he had an innate curiosity of others dreams.
"Well, you were more or less in it. I dreamt that I was painting a picture that you were in. You were standing on the beach at night, looking out over the ocean. The bizarre part is, I had painted the water an iridescent chartreuse, like it was lit up or something. It's not normally something that I would paint, but I think I might try it. What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Veronica wrinkled her forehead at him.
Kemper didn't know how to tell his best friend, to whom he told everything, about a decade long reoccurring dream that he had somehow failed to ever mention before.
"It's just that...well you see..." Kemper struggled.
"Spit it out! What is it?"
"The thing is, I've been having a dream where I stand on the beach and the water is glowing, well, forever."
"Yeah, that's it! It's glowing. Wait, what do you mean forever?" she asked taking in what he had said.
"Since I was thirteen. Sometimes night after night and sometimes I won't dream it for months, but it is always the same dream."
Her jaw dropped, "You've never told me about any reoccurring dream. That's a long time to be having the same god damn dream and not tell me about it!" Kemper could tell that Veronica was more upset that she hadn't been told about this dream in the more than a decade that he had been having it, then the fact that Kemper had been experiencing the same dream over and over.
"I know. I guess I didn't tell you because it turned into a personal mission to figure out what it meant. Are you mad?" Kemper skimmed his hand over the bubbling water.
"No, well maybe a tiny bit hurt, but that's because we've always told each other everything. I understand you keeping this to yourself, though." Kemper saw a slightly flattened expression on her face, but it soon changed to a look of curiosity. "So, is that always it, you standing on the beach looking at glowing water?" Her interest was piqued now, especially since she had discovered her own dream reflected Kemper's.
"Pretty much. Except there's a man and a woman, who I can't really see very well, standing down the beach, but that's about it." Kemper momentarily paused as last night's rerun came rushing back to him. The attack had made him completely forget all about the most startling alteration of all. "I did have the dream last night, though, and I saw the man's face for the first time ever!" Kemper paused, glancing around before continuing. "Ronnie, it was Carlo!" Kemper was surprised at how good it felt to have someone to discuss this with.
"Carlo? The Carlo swimming over there in the pool right now? The Carlo that you met barely a week ago? But you've been having this dream for twelve years. Now that's eerie!" Her eyes went wide. "Do you think you somehow subconsciously put Carlo in your dream because you like him so much?"
"I don't know, maybe. It's never worked like that before. I mean if it did I would have been putting Justin in it years ago," Kemper deduced matter-of-factly.
"True," she muttered seemingly trying to wrap her brain around this unusual conundrum.
"Don't rack your brains too much. I've been determined to discover what it means for years and years, and what has felt like forever and I'm still clueless." Veronica looked up realizing that was what she had been doing. "So you can tell I really like Carlo?"
"I'm not blind you know." Veronica looked back down at the bubbling surface. "Listen, I'm sorry that I haven't been a very good friend to you lately. We should've already been talking about how much you're in love with Carlo ages ago if I'd come out of my room."
"Hold on a minute. First of all, you do not need to apologize for anything. You were in an accident, you're going through a divorce, and you just moved half way across the country. You may be as unsociable as you want to be."
"Your screaming brought me out of it really fast," she interjected.
Kemper kept talking as though she hadn't spoken, "And second of all, I am not in love with Carlo," he spoke the last few words in a whisper, watching Carlo's laps out of the corner of his eye.
"Liar!" Veronica looked him directly in the eye.
"Ronnie I can't be in love with him because I'm not entirely sure how he feels." Kemper lowered his voice again, "We haven't even sleep together yet."
"You're lying."
"Stop calling me a liar! That's twice in one minute." Kemper splashed water at her for emphasis.
"I'm sorry, but it's hard to believe that you two haven't had a tangle in the sheets yet."
"Well believe it. There was a little something in New Orleans, once, but nope." Kemper couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"It has to be all of this stuff with his ex-wife; all the strain she's put on him. Maybe he, you know, can't." Veronica made her erect finger droop and fall over into the water trying to make it obvious what she was attempting to say without saying it.
"Oh, he can. I at least know that much," he flashed back to some key moments.
"Well, I don't know then. But I know he likes you. I'm around enough to tell that. And look at everything he's done for you, for us. He wouldn't have done that for some man that he didn't care about."
"I'm sure he cares about me, but how much?"
Veronica, not knowing what to say and thought it best to have a change of subject for both their sakes, asked about Kemper's dream again. "Do you know who the woman is? In your dream, I mean."
"No, I've really never seen their faces, well until last night and I just saw Carlo's, not the woman's."
"I wonder what that means?" Veronica sunk beneath the ripples, only her head remaining above the water level.
"Actually, I think it's a coven, a magic circle I'm presumed to be a part of and have been a part of for at least one past life that I know of. And now, I'm starting to think that Carlo is part of it. Is this freaking you out?" He didn't want to overload her with too much of the paranormal at once. He'd had little time to think over his dream since the attack, but this was the conclusion that he had drawn.
"So, you're really a male witch, huh?" Veronica was smiling.
"Looks like it. Don't worry, I'll only turn you into a toad if you really piss me off." She laughed at him knowing she had nothing to fear from Kemper, he would never abuse his power.
"What do you think it means that I dreamt painting your dream?"
"That, I don't know. There's no way it's a coincidence. I'll have to think about it." Kemper had to keep himself from plunging into thought on that subject immediately. "Are you ready to get out of this thing?" he asked splashing the water in the steaming tub.
"Yeah, let's go. Carlo we're getting out," Veronica shouted at him.
After drying off and dressing they convened in the purple room, which had a sitting area comprised of a diverse assortment of many shapes and sizes of lilac, lavender, and violet colored pillows. Veronica put on some music while they got comfy and passed around a miniature glass pipe swirled with yellow, blue, and white. Kemper sat with his leg around Carlo as he lay down. Carlo had his hand positioned on his knee, rubbing Kemper's leg with his thumb methodically.
"Ahh, now that helps my sore ribs," Veronica exclaimed with a mouth overflowing of smoke. "So, how are the two of you doing?" she asked once they had cashed the first bowl. "Any evil vibes coming at you now?" She loaded another bowl in the pipe.
"Nope, I feel fine," Carlo, answered. "What about you?" he turned to Kemper.
"Me too. In fact, I'm surprised. I assumed she would be trying something heinous; must be too soon. Maybe she's busy plotting." Kemper wiggled his fingers trying to imply that he was trembling.
"Don't joke like that, it's not amusing. And don't forget that she did attempt a heinous act; do you recall this morning's events?" Carlo asked him.
"Actually, I did forget. Damn short-term memory loss!" He held up the pipe then lit it again, still not being scared of Monique.
"Something must have gone wrong with the ceremony." Carlo more thought aloud than spoke the last statement.
"Why, because of this morning?" Kemper inquired.
"Yes. I thought she was supposed to go on with her life without me."
"I think it worked rather adequately, actually. Just maybe not completely. Your ex hasn't done anything to affect us mentally. There's no mind games, no efforts to summon you Carlo, and no intellectual drain. So see, our spell did succeed. Generally, burdening someone with a binding pisses them off pretty good, but we did ours with such love that I hoped it would have been more influential than binding, and she would go on with her life. Of course, I didn't count on her calling spirits to come assault me. Hopefully, she'll just leave you alone." Kemper looked at Carlo.
"Well, I don't care for her messing with you. This Monique better chill out or I might have to take up this witchcraft stuff and show her who's boss," Veronica proposed.
"I'm livid because she's involved you in this. She should have kept her aim pointed at me," Carlo stated with what a speck of anger in his voice. Kemper had never seen his temper flare.
"Don't fret about it, you guys. It's all going to be fine, I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die. I'll even stick a damn needle in my eye if I'm wrong about this. Besides, I refuse to sit back while she tortures you, Carlo!" Kemper tried to set their minds at ease for the one- hundredth time that day.
"I want to trust you, Kemp, but I just want to go on record as saying be wary of playing games with this chick. She sounds evil to the core and you can't trust evil. And with that..." She stood and stretched. "Well gang, I'm using this high and undertaking some painting. This is the greatest I've felt in a while. I'll be in the studio if anyone needs me."
Veronica left and Carlo pulled Kemper down alongside him to where he was lying down. "I'm so glad you're okay. You're so brave, do you know that?" He gazed into his jade eyes, through him to his soul, it seemed.
He leaned over and put his lips on Kemper's, kissing him delicately. Kemper wrapped his arms around him, exalting in Carlo's body heat, his smoky taste, his smell of pepper and bergamot. Carlo then kissed him more deeply, but kept the caress unhurried, though intense. He kissed Carlo back as intensely, following his lead, magnifying its effects into a kiss that began loosing the fires that he was famous for igniting in Kemper.
Rolling halfway on top of Kemper, Carlo wrapped his arms around him firmly and held him close as he deepened the kiss even further, crushing his lips against his. Kemper put his fingers in his wavy hair and wrapped one of his legs around Carlo's, feeling his rock-hard erection against him, endeavoring to have power over his craving for him. A craving that was quickly turning into necessity.
Carlo kissed his way to his ear lobe and nibbled on it the way he had done to him that night in London. The nibbling formed a tingling feeling in the small of Kemper's back. He removed his hands out of Carlo's hair, afraid he would began pulling his locks, and slid them underneath his shirt where he couldn't help but skim his short fingernails across the skin of his muscular back. He arched his back and Kemper let out a small groan.
Kemper, never being able to keep his ardor in check like Carlo, he couldn't resist the urge to continue the trajectory of his hands lower, under Carlo's waistband, filling his hands with the flesh of his bottom. Bucking his hips, Kemper nestled him in firmly against his thickening phallus. All that it took was the slightest movement from Carlo, and Kemper was rocking against him.
Soon they were writhing against each other, their hardons sliding over each other through the intoxicating friction of their clothes. Carlo slipped his tongue back in his mouth, meshing their lips together. When Carlo slipped his hands underneath Kemper, grabbing his ass, each of them pulling each other closer leaving no space between them, Kemper was groaning repeatedly. And when Carlo stopped kissing him so that he could catch his breath, Kemper suggested, "Let's take our clothes off."
Suddenly Carlo released his earlobe and sat back a little and said, "Let's stop Kemper."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Frankly, yes there is. The difficulty being, I can't keep myself under control when we're this close."
"Who said that you had to be controlled with me?" He slithered his fingers along his crack and stroked his skin. Carlo positively quivered and Kemper took that as a signal for more. Stroking a finger further, he teased Carlo's hole. Carlo ground his hips into him and his hole puckered and unpuckered reflexively. Kemper rubbed and circled and tapped as Carlo shuddered.
Then Carlo was sitting up and pulling away. "I do. It has to be more extraordinary, perfect with you, Kemper. You're unlike anyone else in the world and that is what our first time should be like, unmatched. We will know when it's right." He looked at him with an engaging smile. "Do you appreciate what I mean?"
"I guess." He let his arms collapse to the pillows and made an effort not to pout. "Well, in that case I'm going to go out to the beach."
He got up and started stalking out of the room. "Kemper, please don't leave mad," he pleaded to his retreating back.
"Mad?! I'm frustrated! In fact, no Carlo, I don't 'appreciate' what you mean! What is not perfect about this?" Kemper swept his arm the room. "We should be celebrating! You're free! We're here in this beautiful, comfortable place. And as I recall, I don't remember you wanting an 'extraordinary, perfect' experience when we were about to go at each other in London. You're not being honest and I'm not sure why. Maybe we really don't know each other that well. I keep forgetting that we just met. I'll try to remember that from now on.
"One thing I do know is that you've been through a lot; I get it. I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. But until you're ready to be honest, or figure out what you want, just maybe...maybe you should... Stop being a prick tease!"
"Kemper..." He didn't stop, but walked out the door shutting it behind him with a sharp snap.
He quickly went into his bedroom and changed into a navy swimsuit and all but ran down the stairs. Jogging down the beach, he dove into the warm water, feeling unsure of the torrent wind of emotions that were swirling in him.
Having to put a cap on the sexual energy brimming out of him seemed impossible right now. Jesus, their chemistry was intense! He wanted Carlo so desperately, more than he had ever wanted anyone in his entire life, even more than Justin. And considering how he had constantly desired to be with Justin, he wanted Carlo ten times more.
Being with Carlo, being around him, or even thinking about him, he felt like he was lit up inside. And the thing was, he had stopped thinking of himself completely. Kemper thought only of helping him. He admired Carlo's kindness and wanted to protect him, to make certain nothing ever harmed him again. It physically hurt to pull away from him, longing to become closer to him, sentimentally and in the flesh.
For now, he did know that he needed to stay away from Carlo. The fact that he has insisted on staying in Kemper's room was going to make it tricky. He would have to find some way to avoid a sensual good night kiss from him.
Kemper swam and swam, striving to tire himself out. When he eventually stopped his strokes, he was further down the shore than he expected. Swimming to the white sandy beach, he decided to walk back to the house.