The group was unraveling.
Hermes could feel it in the heat of their bodies, in the frantic way their breaths caught, in the trembling restraint that threatened to snap any moment. The pink smoke clung to them like a second skin, wrapping around their lungs, whispering to their nerves.
It was worse because of how they looked through the haze. Somner's lips gleamed faintly with the gloss he always wore, soft and inviting. Ymir's icy-blue eyes caught the light, sharp and unyielding, yet they sent a shiver down Hermes' spine every time they met his.
Aphrodite's pastel-pink hair curled against his slender neck so perfectly that Hermes' hands ached with the urge to brush it back. Raphael's body was like flawless marble, too perfect not to touch, like an ancient statue begging to be worshipped.
Even Magni looked sensual. His sheer size was overwhelming, his broad pecs straining his shirt. Hermes has always imagined what it would feel like to squeeze those man-boobs in his hands.
