When James' hand grabbed his own, Fisher was prepared to stop. He knew that he had gone too far, that what he'd told Ita would happen was exactly what had happened. He's fucked it all up and now he was gonna regret it. He looked up at James, waiting for instruction. Waiting to be yelled at, waiting for him to get up and leave.
Instead, James let go of his hand. And then raised his hips. All the breath inside Fisher suddenly left him. As he slowly removed the last piece of clothing, Fisher's eyes drank deep the sight before them. Intoxicating. He gently dropped the boxers beside the bed, his eyes never leaving James' form. "Wow," he breathed. He'd seen it before that night at the beach, but it was nothing like this. It had never been so close. The thought of what came next, the mere thought of it, left Fisher shakier than a month and a half of withdrawal ever had. He couldn't control his heartbeat, couldn't swallow the lump in his throat.
He placed a hand on either of James' hips, his fingertips caressing the skin there gently. As he lowered himself closer, he thought of asking James if he was really sure of this. There was nothing worse than doing something you're unsure of, and nothing more hurtful than realizing you've been party to someone's huge mistake. But when he looked up at James' face, and saw the hesitation, the worry, he noticed there was something else there, too. It took a little while to realize that something was need. Lustful need.
Smiling a little, Fisher laid his torso onto James' thighs, his hands slipping beneath his taut ass. Tentatively, Fisher licked James' cock from hilt to tip, teasing. When he received no stopsign, he took the whole of the member in, moaning.