"...Oh!"

Well, that's a very different situation entirely. Of course his nerves bat about in his stomach like a great seething horde of butterflies with tiny knives strapped to their wings, but...

"You're sure?"

"Not overly well, I must say," Ossie gently teases back, not wanting to be outdone. A hand snakes up to cup the back of Giles' head, his immaculately maintained nails pressing gently into his scalp. In the earlier days of their relationship, he would've balked at the very idea of this. At hurting Giles purposefully. But he's learned the joy that can come from being the happy recipient- of allowing Giles to do things for him. This is... the same, in reverse, really. The prospect of seeing welts on Giles' skin...

"Carry your darling up to the bedroom?"

Ossie half-cackles, reaching his arms around either side of Giles' neck to help hold himself up.

"My handsome man- oh I bet that brilliant mind of yours is just racing with ideas, isn't it? My darling boy. If I bite your ear, do you think you'll make it up the stairs?"

That's all the permission he needs; Ossie bites into Giles' earlobe like a starved man at a feast. Not hard enough to draw blood yet, he still needs to gauge Giles' limits, but by the Wyrd he's fantasized about this for so long that he can scarcely contain himself.