It's not the first time he's been given that sort of unasked-for, faintly intimidating blanket permission. It probably only feels like a lot of responsibility because he's, well, himself, and to Jude it's... He won't think about it. Not when he could think about the perfectly inviting smile, the way his voice trips off those lips in that honey-rough voice.

Bodhi shifts again, weight onto his knees, holding himself up enough so he can move his hand between them without having to give up his grip on Jude's shoulder. Or go another moment without kissing him. It's a slow, lazy kiss, a little needy but leaving most of his attention for unbuttoning Jude's jeans. At least he can be sure the relief will be welcome.