Jude is happy to simmer under Bodhi for the rest of the night, if that's what Bodhi wants. The thrill is more than physical; it's having the decision given away, trusting Bodhi to please himself and not try for too much, not set off any of the sensitive points Jude just doesn't believe himself to have.

Then Bodhi frames his face in both hands, fingers lined with jaws, the others just-pressing to his throat, and Jude groans. He squirms with a roll of his hips, testing the weight, the grip.

If Bodhi just held him down forever Jude would take it, enjoy it. His thumb stops circling and just barely presses down, but his fingers lift, refusing to squeeze Bodhi's hip for all that arousal is tightening him up, making him want to clutch and move.