He'd have to be blind not to notice how attractive Poe was. At the time, when he'd met him, he had Manabu on the brain and so barely made note of it. Now he was keenly aware of exactly how unfairly attractive Poe was, and his body got the memo before his mind did, pulling soft, gasping sounds out of him when Poe ground against him. He wasn't sure which of them was harder. Somehow sex always seemed heightened when it was with someone who cared - something he didn't get to test out with Manabu, which he now regretted constantly.

Brendan's brain shut down for a second when Poe's hands slid over his bare skin. It was so good to have someone quiet all the noise in his head, all the mental torment he couldn't shut off. He shuddered against Poe, swallowing and nodding at the suggestion. God, yes, take the entire world out of the equation, blow every thought from his head, make him feel something, anything at all.

He kissed Poe again in a fog of want and need and murmured, "I want you to fuck me." It went unspoken that Manabu was a bottom. Brendan couldn't take being on top and having any thoughts of him mid-sex, that might really drive him over the edge into the kind of brokenness that resulted in an intervention or testing out if the Porter really could revive the dead. He took one of Poe's hands and brought it to his nipple, ready to let Poe take the lead and ruin him for other men. "'m clean, you don't need a condom, just... please, Poe." His shoulders slumped, and he rested his forehead against Poe's shoulder weakly. "Please."