The Romantic and the Philosopher

“What is Love?”

Deee-Lite

What is love?
I think I know what love is.
I think I know what love is.
I think I know? I think
What is love? What is love?

Mmm how do you say
Delicious, delovely
Delectable, devine?
How do you say?
Degorgeous? Dewith it?
Degroovy? Define?

Ooh lala lalalalala
Faux francaise
How do you say delicious?
How do you say delovely?
How do you say delectable?
How do you say devine?
How do you say degroovy?
Dewith it?
How do you say Deee-Lite?
We've been trying to find out
Is there really such a thing?

What Is Love? Lyrics as written by William Bryant Howard Jones. Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

Oscar followed Thomas into the elevator and stared into the polished steel door at his reflection. Thomas was a little over six feet, enough for him to notice when he stood next to him, being five nine himself. He looked at the dark unkempt hair, always in need of combing. Thomas was constantly pushing it back from his face or tucking strands behind an ear. He wanted to ask why he didn’t cut it, but he knew the reason. It was something unimportant to him. Even on their first date, Thomas showed up in a slightly wrinkled shirt and khakis, with his reading glasses perched on top of his head. He had been reading before heading over and in his rush to leave had pushed them up and forgotten about them. It made Oscar smile to think of it, the way Thomas went through his day oblivious to the things so important to others. He drove a 78 SAAB 99 Turbo in a dark red color, one Oscar thought would be pretty if only Thomas would wash it on occasion. The car seemed reliable and practical to a fault with its large hatch and sturdy construction.

Oscar worried their differences would eventually be their undoing. He looked at his reflection, thinking of how long it took him to get dressed. A perfectly pressed white shirt, with a banded collar. It had a slight formality to it when buttoned all the way up. It projected a certain seriousness that spoke to the importance he attached to their date. It was tucked into black jeans, the legs straight in a traditional cut. It made him feel good to be dressed up. To wear something that drew the attention of others, especially the men. He had felt it was always a chance to capture the eye of the one. He imagined it, his Prince Charming emerging from a crowd and sweeping him up.

The elevator rang out when it arrived on the sixth floor and once the door was slid back, Oscar followed Thomas down the corridor to apartment 624, the place Thomas called home, if he were to use such a term. There had been references to this apartment and residence, but Oscar was acutely aware not once did Thomas call it ‘home.’

As they moved quietly down the corridor, Oscar thought about their date, one spent at the French restaurant in Manor Park, then drinks at Stonehaven across the street. It was their seventh date in the last three weeks, and he wondered if they would settle into a routine of going out regularly, eventually making some commitment to each other, or would a boredom creep in, some realization they were not right for each other. It happened often enough. The initial attraction, the lure of a handsome man willing to go out, then the sex that followed, all making him burn with desire, until it didn’t. Until it diminished then just went out, leaving him cold about their dating.

Thomas, he realized, was an anomaly, a guy so very different from all his past dates. He had been at a gallery opening for a friend of a friend, strolling through the crowd after going to the bar. He was in no hurry for his friends were arguing over some nonsense he found tedious, so he moved through the crowd capturing snippets of conversation. He heard praise for the artworks, and critiques of a harsh nature. There were the usual political conversations of some current issue, and comments about some person whose life was falling apart or becoming something dreams are made of. Near one of the rolling-display walls, the one with one of the boldest pieces (two naked men lying in repose after sex) he came upon Thomas talking to two other men. He knew immediately Thomas was not in agreement with whatever was being put forth by the other two. He changed his path and angled closer to the three men.

“…you’re right, it was the prefect romance movie. Dull, dreary, lacking any sense of reality. I assume they broke up at least once then told the other they were the one when they got back together ten minutes before the credits,” Thomas had been saying to the other two. Oscar knew what Thomas spoke, finding most romantic movies tedious and superficial. He laughed, a bit too loud, capturing the attention of the three men.

“OH, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“But you agree?” Thomas had asked.

That had been it. Oscar had started to excuse himself and step away, but something about Thomas told him he was serious. That he really wanted to know what Oscar thought. Before long, Oscar found himself at the bar with Thomas talking about artist and their impressions of love and if once painted onto a canvas, it became something else. The next night was dinner at Aurelio’s then a night of sex at his apartment, it being the closer of the two to the restaurant.

Oscar followed Thomas into his apartment. They moved through the foyer, living and dining rooms, and down the hall to the master bedroom. Once by the bed, Thomas grabbed Oscar, pulling him close. They kissed then fumbled with the other’s clothing stripping off one garment then the next.

Once Oscar was down to his boxer-briefs, the crotch bulging with his aroused state, Thomas quickly pulled them down and with his help, freeing each leg. Thomas pushed him onto the bed and quickly moved over him. Hands grabbed him behind the knees, pushing upward and out, spreading him open. He grabbed at the blanket and moaned as he felt Thomas move to him. The initial touch, then the insistent push against his opening. Then the rake of Thomas’ cock up and down his ass, stroking his arousal until he was moaning.

“Thomas; don’t tease me,” Oscar uttered.

Cock pressed against his opening, then breached it. He stretched for the thick cock, took every inch as it sank into his hole.

“FUCK…Thomas…fuck me.”

Thomas moved over him, pushing his knees down into the mattress either side of his chest. He was folded in half and penetrated by every inch of Thomas’ cock. Holding himself up on hands and knees, Thomas began to fuck, to tug outward, then push back in, his pace increasing with every stroke. Soon the bed squeaked and rocked beneath them, then it banged against the wall.

Oscar found it ironic how stoic and unemotional Thomas could be at all other times, but during sex, with him on bottom taking his fuck, Thomas lost a lot of his stoicism. He groaned and moaned and responded to every touch. And nothing made him respond the most than having his nipples tormented while fucking. Oscar reached up and pinched both nipples, giving them the added torment of a twist. Thomas shuddered and thrust into his depths even harder.

Thomas fucked until his body glistened in the dim light. Oscar could feel the heat of it wherever it touched him. The contact was slick and wet and red hot. As cock piston in his hole, he raked hands down the hot skin of the chest and stomach. He felt the undulating movement as cock bore into his depths. It made his own body feel feverish and he gasped for breath.

Thomas rose on his knees, cock sticking straight out hard as rock and dripping.

“Roll over.”

Oscar smiled then flipped to his stomach. He buried his face into the mattress as cock bore into his depths. He cried out in a muffled tone while clutching at the bed. Thomas wasted no time in sinking all the way inside him, then moved over his prone body and resumed fucking. Hard, fast, hips bouncing off his ass. He took it, every thrust, and begged Thomas not to stop.

An arm around his neck, hot breath blowing against the side of his face, and the weight and heat of Thomas on his back boring cock into his depth. It was too arousing, to erotic. His own cock was so hard it hurt.

The bed rocked beneath them, and the arm tightened its hold, pulling his head up. He was breathing hard and felt like he was going to cum. Every push into his hole pressed his own cock into the mattress, and when Thomas ground hips against his ass, it ground his cock into the mattress.

Thomas shoved into his depths and kept hammering hips against his ass trying to push deeper. Then Thomas cried out as he jammed cock all the way inward and shuddered with release.

It was too much, and Oscar came, feeling his cock spurt wad after wad until the bed was wet beneath him.

Oscar lay against Thomas who was leaned against pillows stacked against the headboard. He watched Thomas rake a finger along his chest. The touch was warm and at times, when Thomas was just grazing the skin, ticklish.

“Thomas, what do you think of me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Do you think…maybe…”

“Don’t say the L-word.”

“What?”

“Love.”

“Why? Don’t you think that is important in a relationship?”

“There are a lot of things important, but love isn’t one of them. It’s a made-up emotion; not real.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

“Of course. Look, everything about our notion of love, the initial attraction, the interaction during sex, all of it, is just chemical reactions designed to get us to breed and keep the species alive.”

“But we can’t breed?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really.”

They fell silent, just Thomas trailing a finger over Oscar’s chest, circling nipples, and rubbing up the sternum. Oscar wasn’t sure why he did it, but he remembered something from his readings, a quote that he felt was appropriate.

“The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love,” Oscar whispered. “Pearl Bailey,” he added as to a reference.

Thomas pinched his right nipple making him cry out, then took him by the chin and turned his head to face him.

“Romantic love is an illusion. Most of us discover this truth at the end of a love affair or else…”

“Wait.”

Thomas kept silent waiting on Oscar to tell him why he interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean anything by it. I was quoting Thomas More.”

“But…”

“But nothing.”

“I’m not interested in being a lover. I’m interested in only being…”

“Do not quote Ram Dass.”

Oscar giggled, for he knew if anyone’s views would be irritating to Thomas, it would be him.

Thomas raked his fingers down Oscar’s chest, over the stomach and through the pubic hair until he was toying with the flaccid cock. It stirred, rolled over and grew thicker.

“Let’s go get in the shower,” Thomas whispered into Oscar’s ear.

Oscar smiled as the fingers closed around his hardening cock, stroking him. He lay still until Thomas had him rock hard, then pushed the hand away, crawled off the bed, and strolled into the bathroom without looking back. He knew Thomas would be right behind him.

Oscar checked himself in the mirror one more time. Hair combed neatly, vivid blue dress shirt neatly pressed and buttoned all the way up. Dark taupe pants that he knew were neatly creased up each leg and black sandals to give a casual look to his attire. He smiled at himself at the silliness of it, how he spent so much time getting dressed when he wouldn’t be surprised to see Thomas in a t-shirt and jeans. But it was important to him to show he cared, and this was one way he did so.

He took the elevator to the garage below, coming off on the level of reserved parking. It cost him nearly a hundred a month, but it was worth it for what sat in space 525. It had belonged to his grandfather, a car bought used for new it was too expensive, even in 1972.  His grandfather had cherished the car, his grandmother swearing more than her, and nothing was spared in its maintenance. Two years ago, his grandfather, now 71, asked each grandchild what they would do with the car if it were given to them. Phillip would sell it, Wendy would put it in storage to preserve it, Brian wanted to modify it, make it a restomod, and Janet said to give it to someone who wanted it. When his grandfather came to him, asking the question, Oscar had been shocked, not thinking in a million years his grandfather would give it up.

“You’re not serious,” Oscar had replied.

“What if I am? What would you do with it?”

Oscar remembered how they were in the garage, he at the front fender, once again running a finger down the curved form.

“I’d drive it. That is what it is was meant for in this world,” he had whispered in reply.

That Christmas, the keys were in a gift box to Oscar with the car hidden in a neighbor’s garage where it awaited him. He remembered how he rushed down the street, then up the neighbor’s drive where they sat on the small side porch waiting. They cheered him as he opened the garage door and when he saw the familiar 1968 Jaguar E-Type, they feel silent as he stood in awe holding back tears.  

Every time he approached the car, he remembered that day and how he felt. It shone in the dim light, it’s opalescent blue paint still looking shiny and new. He unlocked the car, lowered the top and eased down into the driver’s seat. The dark blue leather was beginning to show its age, but it was still soft and pliable and comfortable. The inline six rumbled to life and he let it idle until the engine was warmed up.

Oscar drove through the city enjoying the coolness in the air. It was nearing fall, the sun low in the western sky and the city was alive with people out for an early dinner, or heading to some function, or simply out for a drive or walk. He swung into the visitor’s parking lot for Thomas’s apartment building, pulling up to the sidewalk at the entrance. He had to wait a minute, as usual, for Thomas to make it down. Thomas came out and Oscar did a double take, surprised at his attire. He knew it was an important night, for Thomas’ closest friend was having their first gallery opening in Southend, but it still surprised him to see Thomas in a black dinner jacket, white shirt, and black pants.

“You look nice,” said Oscar as Thomas lowered himself into the Jaguar.

“As, do you,” Thomas replied, giving Oscar a mischievous smile.

The gallery had a short line at the door, people taking their time coming in for they were in conversation. Oscar walked alongside Thomas, passing them, and heading to the front door. He saw the looks, appraising or judging, wondering who Thomas was dragging into the gallery. He had been told by Stanley, Thomas’ friend, and the artist on display, that many were curious about the person who had Thomas in the ritual of dating, something none of them had seen before. He knew to Thomas’ close group of friends, and those out the group who knew them, he was an anomaly. Someone who had done the seemingly impossible. But to him, he had merely pursued dates with Thomas for he did enjoy his company, and he felt, despite Thomas’ rhetoric to the contrary, there was something between them.

He moved through the crowd at Thomas’ side, falling into one conversation after the next, or just listening to someone poke fun at him at his expense. The man who seemed to capture Thomas’ heart, if he had one, some joked. Thomas never let on anyone was getting under his skin, but about ten o’clock, the gallery full of people, he led Oscar to the front and out onto the sidewalk.

“I’ve had enough. Let’s go back to my place,” said Thomas, leading Oscar toward the parking deck where the Jaguar waited.

Thomas was unusually frisky, roughly stripping Oscar as soon as they got into his apartment. Even with curtains wide open, he didn’t stop until Oscar was naked in the middle of his living room. He went to his knees and engulfed the hardening cock, took all of it, nose pressed into Oscar’s abdomen.

Oscar felt the deviant nature of their sex. He stood naked, exposed, his cock in Thomas’ mouth. Thomas was still dressed, even wearing his jacket, as he sucked. Head moving back and forth, having to go further and further as Oscar grew rock hard and elongated to his full length, Thomas stirred Oscar’s arousal. He made him feel his sex with heart racing and every breath seemingly not enough.

“Thomas,” Oscar uttered, but it was too late. He came, hard, shuddering and jerking as his cock filled Thomas’ mouth. He felt the swallowing around his cock, then the tongue working around it as it dribbled out the last of his load. He pushed Thomas off it and helped him to stand. He worked the jacket off, draping it over the back of the sofa. Then he unbuttoned the shirt, carefully, taking his time working each button free. The shirt fell open and he kissed the indention just below the neck, then moved his lips up the long neck, along the jaw back to the mouth. As they kissed, he slipped the shirt from the shoulders and down the arms. Blindly, he tossed it over the back of the sofa next to the jacket. Reaching down between them he groped Thomas, felt the hardening cock, manipulating it until it strained against its confinement. He worked the belt loose, undid the pants and pushed them down until they fell freely around the ankles. He went down on his knees, kissing the chest, then stomach along the waistband of the boxers. He tugged them down, working them over the growing erection and down the long legs. He kissed the exposed cock, then took it between his lips and pushed forward until his nose was pressed into Thomas’ abdomen.

Oscar sucked Thomas until the cock filled his mouth. He rose to his feet and guided Thomas back until the armchair hit the back of Thomas’ legs, and he pushed him to sit. He forgot about the open curtains, for he was focused on only one thing. He moved over Thomas, straddling his thighs and pushed his cock against him. He raked it up and down Thomas’ chest until leaking, then he reached back and held Thomas up, feeling the thick cock fill his hand, and he eased down on it. Slowly, he let his weight carry him down with the cock stretching him open, stretching him to take every inch that slid through his tightness until he was seated on it. He rode Thomas with a slow pace, moving up and down in a manner that allowed them to feel every inch that tugged at his tight opening, tugging, and pulling on it with his movement. His own cock dragged up and down Thomas’ torso until it left a slick trail and stimulated him until he could hold back no longer. He moved faster, rougher, up and down. He leaned back so he had greater movement with his hips, moving them upward, then back down, working Thomas’ cock inside of his hole. He moaned at the feel of the thick cock boring into his depths. He shivered when it banged his insides in a manner that made him see stars. And he increased his pace at times just to feel the way it piston inside his hole.

Thomas took Oscar’s cock and stroked him as he moved up and down. It made him shiver and cry out. A thumb raked over the leaking head. There was a tug on his tightening sac. A slow stroke down, hand squeezing as it moved. Then the hand moving fast, almost a blur, and Oscar slammed his ass down on Thomas’ cock, roughly, over and over.

“Do it, Oscar. Come for me,” Thomas uttered as he shoved upward.

Oscar rocked with the thrust upward. It felt like Thomas had managed to get deeper inside him. He sank down, all the way, grinding his ass on Thomas’ lap, then he came. He jerked and shuddered with each ejaculation. He felt the hot cum land on his stomach as he kept moving his ass. Up and back down, feeling his hole spasm around Thomas’ cock.

“Fuck,” Thomas exclaimed.

Hands came to Oscar’s thighs and pushed him down, all the way, as Thomas pushed upward. He felt the way Thomas jerked and shook beneath. Opening his eyes, he saw. Thomas with head back, mouth open, shuddered with his own release.

The suds kept washing over the side of the tub as Oscar and Thomas shifted and moved within the warm water. Oscar finally settled between Thomas’ legs and laid back against him. The heat relaxed their muscles and made them feel drowsy. Thomas pushed Oscar’s hair back, letting his fingers comb though it.

“You don’t really think love is just an illusion, do you?” whispered Oscar, worried about bringing it up again.

“I wouldn’t say an illusion, more like a false emotion.”

“What? How can you say that? Haven’t you ever loved someone? What about your mother or father?”

“That is different. An emotion tied to my initial dependency on them and later, a cherishment of the things they taught me, nothing more important than to question everything and think for myself.”

“What about someone you dated?”

“Still being single and dating you should tell you none in the past, well, never quite measured up.”

“But did they make you feel something?”

“Yes, of course. Lust, attraction, but never so far as to go to the attachment stage.”

“You make it sound so clinical.”

“In a way it is. It is our evolutionary development that pushes us to have sex, and therefore to reproduce, keeping the species alive. Nothing else matters when it comes to life.”

“But lust isn’t some clinical thing. It’s an emotional state that…”

“But it is when you understand it. The release of testosterone or estrogen, that drives the response to someone we want to have sex.”

“But it is more than that, it’s…” Oscar stammered, unsure what to say.

“Lust is more than just the release of hormones, but that is not love, nor is the next stage. Attraction which becomes like a reward behavior. The release of dopamine that makes one feel exhilarated and consumed by their desire toward the person they have gotten past the initial lust.”

“Clinical!” Oscar responds as he takes Thomas by the hand and guides it to his cock. “Is this clinical?”

Thomas chuckles, then toys with Oscar until he hardens.

“If you were to relate this notion of love to anything it would have to be attachment,” said Thomas as he holds up Oscar’s hard cock, the head and a couple of inches visible, and he begins to stroke it.

Oscar is soon so aroused he can’t hold back. He wants Thomas. He wants his sex. He moves up and around and straddles Thomas, pushing soap slick cock up his chest.

“Is this getting your hormones stirring?” Oscar whispered in a taunting tone.

“Yes,”

Oscar got on his knees and reached back. He took Thomas in hand and eased down until he felt the wide flared head at his opening, and he kept moving down, stretching open again and taking every inch. Suds sloshed out of the tub as Oscar moved up and down. He moved on Thomas with a steady rhythm until he heard the soft groan, then hands taking him under each arm and lifted him up.

On the floor, suds and soapy water splashed out around them, Oscar lay on his back and took Thomas’ fuck. Every thrust. With hands holding his legs spread apart he felt his exposure. The total nakedness of his body, spread out for Thomas’ pleasure. And Thomas took his pleasure, with hips smacking against his ass as cock bore into his depths.

Thomas fucked until exhausted, and he fucked some more. He fucked until muscles burned and he was heaving for breath. And below him, Oscar took every thrust.

Oscar stroked his own cock, his hand a blur as Thomas hammered his insides. He threw his head back and cried out, then sprayed his chest and stomach with cum. The hands tightened on his legs, pushed them further down as Thomas jammed cock into his depths. Then Thomas cried out and filled Oscar with his second load.

Thomas collapsed on Oscar, and they lay on the wet floor for a long time.

“Just hormones?” Oscar whispered and the two of them giggled, then laughed.

Oscar looked at the calendar in his email system to see what appointments he had coming up in the next week. He noted the meeting on Tuesday afternoon, then the two on Thursday, one at ten and the other at three. He hoped the three o’clock meeting didn’t last for hours as it sometimes did. He hated long meetings, and none more than those that made a long day even longer. Then he realized the date on Friday. It was an anniversary of sorts; one Thomas probably didn’t think twice about. Six months since their first date. He smiled at how they had dates with greater frequency, and of late, spent more nights together than apart. He would have been at Thomas’ this morning if not for his need to finish a report for a staff meeting.

He created an email to Thomas.

See you tonight. I should get off work by six. You still want to go to Alessandro’s for dinner?

Love, O

He hit send, closed his laptop, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for work.

Alessandro’s was busy, but not crowded. The level of conversation a white noise and didn’t drown out the soft electronic music that gave the restaurant a more urban vibe. There were drinks at the bar, then dinner at their favorite table, the small two-top at the side window facing the small courtyard garden with its fountain, large oak tree for shade during the day, and a few tables that gave it connection to the restaurant.

After a dessert of tiramisu, they made their way back to the old SAAB in the parking lot to head back to Thomas’ apartment.

“You want to do anything special on Friday?” asked Oscar, fishing around to see if Thomas had any idea, it would be six months since their first date.

“No, why?”

Oscar laughed and patted Thomas’ hand that rested on the gear shift. “No reason.”

Thomas maneuvered through a left turn and back to speed, smoothly shifting through the gears.

“You’re making a big deal of the fact we’ve been dating six months?” asked Thomas.

“So, you do remember.”

“It’s just a construct of time.”

“Yes, some man-made idiocy to track the space-time continuum.”

“Smartass.”

Oscar laughed again. “So, we’ll just have dinner at my place and fuck our brains out?”’

“Now you’re talking.”

“Yeah, let’s get those hormones raging and try to breed.”

“I’m not planning on waiting until Friday,” Thomas uttered without looking at Oscar.

Oscar stood by the bed, with arms pinned behind him by his shirt wrapped around the wrists. Thomas was pressing against his body. Hot flesh against hot flesh. Lips touching lips, then trailing down the jaw, around the neck to the base of the ear, then a gently tug on the lobe.

“Fuck…Thomas…” Oscar uttered as he pushed his hardening cock against Thomas’ abdomen. He felt a push against his own stomach.

Thomas spun Oscar around, pulled the shirt off his arms, tossing it to the floor. He pushed him on the bed and climbed on top. An arm around the neck, and using his legs, pinned Oscar’s legs together between them. He pushed his cock against the firm ass, pumping his hips until Oscar moaned and pushed up.

“This is my lust. I want to fuck you,” Thomas taunted as he held tight grinding his cock down between Oscar’s ass cheeks.

“Do it…do it, Thomas, please,” Oscar whispered breathlessly. “Fuck me.”

Thomas lifted his hips and felt Oscar take his cock guiding it to its target. He pushed down until he felt the squeeze on the head. Oscar groaned and Thomas could feel the shuddering body beneath him as he pushed deeper into Oscar’s hole.

Thomas pushed until he was buried in Oscar’s hole, then he began to fuck. A tug outward, then the push inward, over, and over, his pace increasing until the bed squeaked and rocked beneath them. He pulled out, getting on his knees.

“Roll over.”

Oscar rolled to his back and held his legs up and apart. He opened himself to Thomas letting him see everything. His own leaking erection and his stretched opening. He waited impatiently for Thomas to penetrate him again.

“Fuck me, Thomas. Fuck my ass,” Oscar uttered.

Thomas responded, putting his cock to the spread ass, aligned it with the opening and shoved inward until pressed against it. He moved over Oscar and resumed fucking. Hips rising until cock nearly slipped free, then plunging back in, all the way.

Oscar took it, as he had for months. Every inch. Every thrust into his hole. He took it and begged for more. He clung to the body above him and moved his ass to increase his own pleasure as Thomas sank into his depths.

Thomas shoved inward and kept jamming hips against upturned ass as he cried out. Oscar knew he was coming. He felt it, and he could see it in the face hovering over him. Suddenly, Thomas was between his legs sucking his cock. He shivered as the hot slick mouth took him. He clutched at the bed when Thomas licked the head and bore into the slit. Then he shuddered with release as Thomas held every inch buried in his mouth and throat.

Thomas in a robe and Oscar in a pair of gym shorts, they sat on the balcony looking at the lights of downtown to the west. Oscar looked at Thomas and how the robe had fallen open revealing the body beneath, even the flaccid cock.

“I love you, you know,” Oscar whispered.

“I know.”

“Do you love me?”

“I want to be with you. I miss you when you’re not here. I think of you, sexually and as a person. I want you in my life. I can see myself growing old with you, content with my life’s choices. Is that love, I don’t know,” said Thomas.

Oscar smiled, knowing the philosopher would never admit he loved him, but he also knew by every measure that Thomas did love him. He wondered if Thomas would surprise him on Friday. Maybe flowers and a romantic dinner. Or maybe he should buy the flowers. He smiled at Thomas as he wondered what kind to get.

“What’s so funny?” asked Thomas.

“Just my hormones raging,” Oscar replied, grinning at Thomas.