Barma sits up with him, reaching for him, wrapping himself around him slowly and moving to trace fingers along the nape of Jack's neck. He leans in, so he can whisper in his ear.
"What are you afraid is going to happen? That we'll blunder? We've had countless blunders before, my darling. Knees in sides and lubricant spilled all over the floor, sheets tangled gracelessly around ankles and wobbly miscommunications. I remember each one of them with utter fondness."
His arms tighten around him.
"Let us do wrong. We'll laugh about it tomorrow. But don't be afraid. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what you'd like to do."
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Barma sits up with him, reaching for him, wrapping himself around him slowly and moving to trace fingers along the nape of Jack's neck. He leans in, so he can whisper in his ear.
"What are you afraid is going to happen? That we'll blunder? We've had countless blunders before, my darling. Knees in sides and lubricant spilled all over the floor, sheets tangled gracelessly around ankles and wobbly miscommunications. I remember each one of them with utter fondness."
His arms tighten around him.
"Let us do wrong. We'll laugh about it tomorrow. But don't be afraid. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what you'd like to do."