This wasn't even particularly strange, all this considered. At least on a physical level. He'd had enough casual encounters that his body knew the drill and responded before his mind even caught up. His jacket was falling to the floor and he barely even noticed, pressing in Brendan and pushing him back toward the bed at the same time.

It didn't help that he found Brendan stupidly attractive. He wouldn't be able to put a pin in it, if asked, but something about the mess of curls that was always in his eyes, the slightly gangly limbs. Ten years ago, he would have probably hit on Brendan even while he was with Manabu, not particularly concerned about hurting any feelings.

And yet now, here, his trousers beginning to feel too tight as he ground himself against Brendan's body. He did care. Fuck, he cared so much, even know Manabu seemed like he was gone forever. He shouldn't feel guilty, he tried to tell himself. He wasn't trying to be Manabu. Wasn't even pretending to be. Brendan's hunger was fuel for his own, piling the hem of Brendan's shirt up, hands sliding over the skin beneath.

"Anything you want," he reiterated in a low voice - deeper than usual - the husky tones of lust slipping in.

"I can make you forget the rest of the damn universe, if that's what you want."