For the Empire - Inganno

Chapter 13

"Almost there," I say more to myself, grunting as I tug JP along with me at the top of the stairs.

"Joe...Joey thinks he's Dr. Oprah, but... don't want you to get hurt..." JP mumbles.

"What the hell are you talking about, John Paul?" I'm beyond irritated at this point. I turn the handle on his bedroom door, then kick it open, and I flip the lights on with my elbow and pull him towards his bed.

There's soft music playing from his stereo system; he must have been in here before he went to the kitchen. His room is usually clean but is somewhat messy today, with clothes lying on the floor and papers are scattered on his desk or scrunched up; littered around the wastebasket.

"I like when you say my name," He says as I turn him to face me. I hug his waist as I maneuver him to the edge of his bed and sit him down.

I take a deep breath, standing in front of him, with my hands on my hips, winded from the exertion it took to get him up here.

"I always say your name; you're not making any sense, JP." I lean over the bed to pull back the covers.

"Okay, lift your arms, please." 

He lifts them, but he drops them right back down. "Keep them up, JP. I need to pull your shirt over your head." I lift his shirt up and over only to have him get stuck.

Shit, I forgot to unbutton the top of his shirt. He struggles to straighten his arms, making it worse to remove his shirt. "Char?" He flaps his hands since he can't move his arms. "It's dark in here..."

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Hang on, let me try to unbutton it." Fighting hard not to laugh, I lean over him and reach above his head to get to the button; the shirt is too tight around his face to get to the buttons from underneath.

"Mmm, you smell so good." He sighs as I lean into him; his voice muffled with the shirt around his face.

I finally manage to unbutton the shirt and pull it up the rest of the way. My eyes scan over the tattoos in the body; each one has a meaning behind it for him.

I take a seat next to him and lift my hand to touch the one on his left shoulder. It was the first one he got at sixteen years old.

I had gone with him and his dad, Tony, when he had it done. It's an image of angel wings, with the date his mom passed away and the words I'm always with you, written under it. It was the last thing she said to him.

His tan skin feels hot under my cool fingers, and I notice the shudder that goes through him as I move my fingers over his tattoo lightly, goosebumps forming on his shoulder. I look up at him and see that he's watching me with sad eyes.

I lift my other hand to cup his face.

He leans into my hand and closes his eyes. My heart hurts to see him so sad; I wish I knew what's making him so sad tonight.

I move to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head as I'm about to touch his face and presses his lips on mine into a searing kiss.

I gasp in surprise, and he takes that as an opening to slide his tongue inside my mouth. His tongue caresses mine and explores my mouth so sensually and slow. My eyes close as I focus on the feeling of his lips on mine. The kiss is slow yet it makes my pulse race.

Oh my, I've never been kissed like this before; his lips are so soft yet firm as they move against mine. 

I'm surprised there's a flavor to his lips; it's sweet yet warm and there's a hint of alcohol on his tongue, but it's not overpowering.  I surprise myself when I return his kiss and tentatively slip my tongue between his lips and stroke his tongue with mine, unsure if I'm even doing it right.