The moment stretches a bit, while Jude finds his discarded shirt and wipes himself an approximation of clean; stuffs himself back into his underwear and jeans but doesn't bother with closing them. Perfunctory motions, while he compartmentalizes his actions from his inability to properly think this out. Wipe off, put his dick away, slide to the floor. Figure how to think again, because that's his hand hovering at Bodhi's knee and he isn't sure what follows.

"Can I," he asks, despite that overall permission. The rest of the question is a finger trailing up Bodhi's inseam, lifting at the last curve to touch a tip to the waist of his pants. If Bodhi prefers, Jude won't do more to touch him than curve over and open his mouth.