Ah! If loud noises weren’t for spooking horses, Renly might have clapped and hooted, taken a page from Robert’s eccentricities and celebrated having it up the English’s bum! Proverbial bum, that is, when every cock under his roof that night really wanted a physical display of verbal fantasy so calm as an animal whisperer he remained, respectfully dropping nearby tea towel into his lap to settle Jon’s more delicate, feminine nerves.
This was the conversation sowed in mind’s garden since that red letter day back in June: polyamory vs. monogamy.
Early Monday morning phone call between best mates had pruned their friendship of weed and flower as new boyfriend saw fit. No more snogging, no more lad’s date nights, definitely no more nudie porno parties, too many thorns hidden amongst the roses so those got uprooted, too. Nothing left in the flowerbed the might potentially injure budding relationship.
With the landscape forever changed, Renly and Robert had learned to live in Mr. McGreggor’s new garden, but weeds always grew back given time and opportunity. The moment to discuss said changes and explore purpose behind their necessity had never been right before; one couldn’t rush a harvest. More of that patience and best of British luck Robert was always tugging his ginger curls over. They’d needed rain and tilling and rest, a chance for roots to grow deep in the sunshine before the courage to bloom grew strong enough.
“If you are ready, Jon, we can certainly have that discussion.”
A nod all the necessary encouragement, Renly began. “Be mother and pour me a cup of tea. This might take a while.”