The much-procrastinated sequel to my short, Without Asking. You won't 
understand the implications of this wee bit if you haven't read that 
one. This is for those good souls who crave resolution. Herein lies a 
balm for your itch. Or, of course, the beginning of a whole new trauma. 
Who's to say? <eg>

Tacit Permission
By Fortuita James

"Do you know how much I love it when you touch me?"

Blair's hands pressed in a little harder. All of a sudden, Jim rolled, 
taking Blair with him. His hands hovered over Blair's tight flesh, but 
refrained from contact.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

The younger man made an abortive move upwards, seducing both with 
expression and every lithe twist of his form. "Touch me."

Jim's hand settled for an instant, before retreating to that hair's 
breadth away. "How much do you want it?"

Blair bucked up, wild-eyed and impatient. "Everything..." he gasped, 
"With everything, love." His capable fingers worked magic, seducing 
with every incremental movement. "Now," he urged, "Now!"

Relenting, unable to do otherwise, Jim delivered the few final pleasures 
it took to send Blair tumbling over the edge.

With a muzzy smile as bonne nuit, Blair began to drift into sleep. Jim 
chose his moment carefully, and leaned close to whisper in his ear.

"That's how much I want you to touch me, lover. With my everything, all 
the time."

The barest flicker of an eyelid was his only acknowledgment, but it was 
enough. He had been heard.

		_________________________________


Jim was tired. He was more than that; he was dead-down-to-the-ground, 
falling-over, couldn't-even-open-a-can-for-supper shagged. But it wasn't 
a good thing. Oh, no. It wouldn't put him to sleep any faster, because 
with the fatigue came the inevitable tension headache. He just wanted to 
sit in a dark room, alone. Perhaps he could focus on being miserable, then 
stoic, and then miserable again.

His partner moved towards him in the dark, his position as clear to Jim as 
it always was. Jim smiled slightly. The possibility of company in his dark 
and silence seemed suddenly more attractive. Blair could, when he chose, be 
as soothing as warm milk on a cold winter evening.

Soothing was not the word to describe him now. Seductive might be the 
polite way to put it. Horny and determined was probably closer to the mark. 
He dove right in and touched Jim in what could only be described as a very 
intimate manner. Jim took one look at that excited, half-scared and dearly 
familiar face in the dark and responded.

This was good. Blair was touching Jim and touching himself. There was a 
definition and certainty he had been lacking. Feeling warmed by the touch, 
by those fingers that were always welcome on his body, Jim relaxed and eased 
into the embrace. Blair obviously felt more than a slight desire, and Jim was 
moved to reciprocate. 

He coaxed eager flesh, nipped with his mouth, bared well-known and well-loved 
skin. After due loving, Blair quivered and came. Not a word had been spoken 
between them.

Jim's head was still throbbing, but he pulled his amour in tight beside him 
and hoped it would go away.

THE END