Gobo watched Wembley, kneading his lap a little. The idea of it... it does sound nice, and he must've agreed last night if he'd done it, even without remembering. ...That might've made his confession a moment ago moot, but no point wondering over that now, they were past it and he knew Wembley was okay with everything.

So, without any pause and thus with his typical forwardness, he- albeit gently -took Wembley by the front of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss, this one full on and lingering.