Smooth hands slid beneath Kant's jacket, warming his sides through the fabric. He barely had time to process it before his sweater was tugged loose.
Gabriel was everywhere—the press of his body, the warmth of his breath, the taste of him lingering between every kiss.
Their lips slid together, and Kant almost mistook the sensation for the ground sliding from under his feet. The only thing that kept him in place were the fingers teasing up his ribs.
Everything was too much yet not enough at the same time.
Gabriel pressed closer, his thigh nudging between Kant's just enough to make his breath hitch. The realization sent a sharp, startling kind of awareness through Kant.
If it went any further, they would start undressing in the middle of the bridge.
"Gabriel..." Kant mumbled, but lost his train of thought again when hot lips moved along his jaw, trailing lower. His brain was an unreliable station. Too many lost trains.
