Brent had his hand pressed against Sergei's chest, molding the deliciously firm and squishy pec under his hand. He used it for support, and for his own self interests.
The man wasn't like Kellen, Rhys or Brent. He didn't work out for the sake of working out. All of the muscle he had was from using his abilities and doing things the hands on way.
God Brent wanted to crawl into his skin.
Their lips were locked, that sweet little metal bead on Sergei's tongue rubbing against Brent's tongue and driving Brent even more insane. He'd already cum twice but it wasn't enough. He didn't think it would ever be enough when it came to this man.
Sergei's hands were up under Brent's shirt already, his hands shaping Brent's back with his hands. Reverent, worshiping his body. Brent had never felt so seen in his life.
