#8 and the pairing of your choice?
holding hands
In spite of all the delicious, filthythings he and Alexander did together, George could not help but treasure therare times he was permitted to do innocent things most people would allow farearlier and more often.
Alexander was not like most people.
While he was glad to go down on hisknees and take George’s cock in his mouth almost anywhere or anytime, hebristled at a supporting hand on his shoulder or lower back. Holding hands, a staple of almost all relationships George had ever heard of,was verboten.Even after six months of stealing away moments and hours, Alexander alwaystugged his hand away whenever George got up the courage to reach for it.Apparently that reticence went out the window the moment George acquired afever. That, or he was hallucinating a version of his lover that did not flinchaway from benign affection. But George did not think he could construct whatthat warm palm felt like, laced in his own, squeezing just a little too tightwhile he groaned and writhed on the bed in the polar opposite of pleasure.
Then, a cool rag graced his forehead, wipingback and forth, the thumb of Alexander’s hand tracing circles on his palm inrhythm with the motion of the blessed cold.
“You’re going to be alright, sir.”
He had never heard Alexander more confident. It was reassurance and order allat once, and George knew that his fever would break in deference. In themeantime, he squeezed his beloved’s hand, and felt grateful for theprivilege.
