When Ichabod looked towards the bed, James realised how he'd sounded and blushed profusely, the vampire's words only contributing to his embarrassment. Yes, he should have realised that, he was an idiot at times! Still, those fingers touching his cheek were lovely and he felt like he was some sort of pathetic blushing dog as he stared at Ichabod with huge, whimpering eyes. It was startling to realise how smitten and compliant he truly was, evidenced by his next words.
"Yes, that's a lovely idea, wonderful!" he babbled, unable to ignore the pull of lust he felt when he met Ichabod's lash-shadowed gaze. He was a puppet. It was pitiful and thrilling at the same time, because he'd previously been the one dictating how his relationships - such as they were, 'interludes' was probably a better description - would go (or not, as the cases actually ended up being). This time, he'd let himself get caught up in something that he was completely out of his depth with and a tiny, rebellious part of him buried deep down inside was glad of it.
He walked out to the living room compliantly, aware of every place his body contacted Ichabod's (and every place he wanted it to contact it) and when they got near the couch he suddenly found the courage to speak. "I'd like to kiss you some more," he declared breathlessly, facing Ichabod hopefully and not daring to move until he got a response one way or the other. He'd agree to any course of action from here on out, he now realised, but he was also proud of himself for coming right out and saying what he wanted. Well, if asking permission and requesting Ichabod's co-operation was pro-active, anyway.