“Yeah,” Feldspar says without an ounce of hesitation in their voice. “Yeah, I want to see you.”

They pull apart Kent’s shirt even further and stop. There are little puckered…nibs, for lack of a better word, at the peak of Kent’s very strong-looking pectoral muscles.

“What are these?”

They touch one, first with their fingertips and then with their thumb when the skin starts to respond.