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“Okay.” He nodded. He wanted to say something... to mention last night. To apologise.
Albie gave him a smile. “Damper?”
“Right. Yes.” He rushed to get it started and they stood next to each other, moved around each other in the small kitchen, but Albie never once touched him. Never pressed him against the shelf or lifted his chin to kiss him. Never even looked to consider it.
And Percy had never wanted it more.
He ached for it. His skin remembered how it felt to be caressed. His lips recalled the press of Albie’s mouth, his hands, his arousal...
Even when they sat at the table. Albie’s knee never once bumped his. And when they set off with rabbit traps and a rifle, and later that night at supper time and when they did more reading, sitting close and almost touching.
Albie never did.
He never mentioned it, and he never instigated it.
And the next day.
And the day after that.
And the days that followed.
Percy thought he might catch fire if Albie didn’t touch him soon, and he didn’t have the bravery to touch him first.
I’ll wait for your permission.
That’s what Albie had said.
Which meant Percy was going to have to say something. Do something.
And even though he often felt the heat of Albie’s gaze lingering, it wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t enough.
Percy needed more.
For almost a week, he burned for it, until he couldn’t stand it a moment longer.
It was before supper, and he and Albie were getting dinner ready while Des and Robert finished up with the horses. It’s now or never, Percy thought.
Say something.
Say it now.
“Albie,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.
Albie looked at him, waiting. “Yes?”
His breath left him in a rush, and his heart was squeezing painfully. He felt lightheaded, and for the life of him, he didn’t know how Albie had said all those forthright things to him without dying.
Albie was concerned now. He put the tray down. “What is it?”
Percy felt the need to laugh, which was bordering on hysteria, surely. “Uh. Before,” he said, breathless. “You said you wouldn’t pursue anything with me without my permission, so if you still want that, this is me saying you have it. My permission, that is. I don’t know what this feeling means, but it’s been seven days since you touched me and I feel I might go mad if you don’t soon.”
Albie’s smile was slow spreading. “Your permission, huh?”
Percy nodded. “Yes. If you want it. You have it. Not that you ever really needed it. You always had it. But I was scared, and truthfully, I still am, but the alternative is a fate worse than death. I kept waiting for you to knock on my door in the middle of the night, and I would fall asleep disappointed when you didn’t, and?—”
Albie did that thing where he put a fingertip to Percy’s chin and lifted his face. That very thing that made Percy’s heart stop and his knees weak.
