Only Andrew Kirke would make it sound like an angry bear was hovering over him when Jack removed his trousers. If Jack didn't know him so well, he might have been embarassed. Or offended. But he did know Andrew well, and so he was neither of those things.
That was his Andy. Always the worrywart.
"Oh baby, we're not ending," Jack said, sliding back up the bed so he could cup Andrew's face in his hand and grin down at him. "We're just beginning." As if anything would get in the way of their friendship. Nothing would, he would never let it. This was just the next step.