[attr="class","beck"]the barkeep returns, disappears. he reaches for his drink.

"tell me."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

There's a dark gleam of amusement in his eyes, beyond the pain.

"I want you to guess, first."

How well do you know me?

[attr="class","beck"]"hmm."

he ponders on it, lost in his thoughts for as long as he sips. he feels warm; from the liquor, most likely.

after a while, he settles on an answer.

"you want to survive."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn  

He considers the answer with a tilt of his head. It's not the one he'd been looking for, but neither is it an incorrect assessment. Gavin nods, accepting.

"It's more than that. I want to thrive."

There is more to him than a blind desire for survival.

[attr="class","beck"]he tilts his head, mirroring.

"how?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn  

Gavin shifts his gaze around the room, ensuring they are alone.

"How else?" He smirks. "Power."

Theo had been given a taste of that power during their excursion to Mt. Pyre, the strength he'd accrued in his rise through the ranks.

[attr="class","beck"]power.

he swallows, throat suddenly dry.

"then claim it."

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

When he had to be, Gavin was a man of near-infinite patience. There's little patience to him, now. Amber eyes burn dark as he keeps them locked with Theo's pale blue.

Theo seems nervous; it's thrilling.

"I intend to."

[attr="class","beck"]his grip tightens around the glass. he doesn't look away.

"when?"

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

He chases the thrill; it drowns out the grief, however temporary.

"Now."

But he's no longer talking about ambition.

"Follow."

He drains the rest of his glass in one, sparing no glance for the barkeep as he sets it down. When he turns away, he does not glance back to see if Theo will follow. He expects him to, and for reasons beyond conditioning.

He avoids anywhere familiar. The room is small, vacant, perhaps disused.

The door is locked; Gavin's amber eyes shine like a predator's in the dim light as he turns to his prey, gauging.

[attr="class","beck"]he does the same — downs the rest of his glass, then stands, and it's not conditoning that makes him follow.

the disused room looks like his own. he glances over to the fridge and wonders if it contains the same things as his. curiosity fades the moment he hears the door lock.

he turns, obedient.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn

When Theo does not question him, Gavin steps close without hesitation. His presence is intense, electric — a scarred palm wraps around Beckett's throat, possessing without restricting. Nails press into flesh and trace the curve of his jaw.

It's quiet, here; no sound but for shallow breath.

"Submit."

It's as much an offer as an order. Gavin meets Theo's gaze before leaning in. If not met with resistance, the kiss is rough, claiming, a promise of dominance. Yet there's something curious, as well, an exploration of boundaries untested.

[attr="class","beck"]as if frozen by a wordless command, he stays still against merlino's touch. it grazes his skin, tracing, exploring, and he's unable to do anything but be enthralled by it. it leaves him hungry, wanting more, and so when the order comes there's no hesitation in the way he submits.

he returns the kiss in full as his hands start to wander.

[attr="class","noodles"]Cillian Quinn