"Love is love," Thierry said, reaching a damp hand up to stroke over Barclay's cheek, "You never know it happen until it does. Just 'cause I am an admirer of 'de female form, don't mean 'dat my heart can't get tugged in the direction of something else. 'sides, those eyes of yours . . . could be happy to get lost in them for a long time."
He wanted to kiss Barclay again. Let those kisses roam over the boy's skin. It was a strange thought, but Thierry never discounted what love could do. Love was strange and . . .that's what this was, right? Love? It felt something like what it should be. Because this wasn't just Thierry looking at Barclay with lust. This felt like something much more. And that would ultimately keep him from taking the first step in removing clothing.