While James was worried about allowing that final nail to be hammered into his coffin, Fisher was worried that his own coffin was already sealed tight. He let himself be pushed back onto the bed, spread his legs so James could nestle between them, groaned softly as the man's hardness pressed against him. He knew that he was going to let James fuck him, and he was pretty sure he was going to love every second of it. What did that say about him? He really, truly, sincerely hoped that Mara had been right, that it was circumstantial. He didn't know what he'd do if this was how his life would be for the rest of his life.
Breaking the kiss to catch his breath, Fisher reached up to run his fingers in James' hair, cupping his face. "Okay," he whispered, breath brushing over the other man's lips. He raised his hips slightly, pushing himself against James' cock, emphasising his meaning.