"No more than you can handle the heat, chilly pants." Poor Cillian Quinn looked like he was melting sometimes.

The touch is nice, gentle, even on the taunt skin. He hums, has to think over how to reply. Usually he doesn't like being asked about that scar. It's not some sore subject, it happened a long time ago, and it didn't unearth some deep hurt it was just... Well, some things were just downer topics. He didn't like talking about things that made people unhappy.

"Accident when I was younger." Is what he says, all he says. The water drips down and it's the only sound aside from their breathing. "You ever hear about that hurricane that almost destroyed Slateport? About... eighteen years ago now, I guess. I got it then."

Gavin laughs, sharp. "Touché."

Fingers brush feather-light along the edges of the scar as Tempest Quinn offers a hint toward its origin. Though the other won't see him shake his head, Gavin finds his voice soon after.

"I've only been in Hoenn since Blackwell brought me over." Dragged him over might be more accurate. "Couldn't tell one storm story from another. Almost destroyed Slateport, though? Arceus."

He bends his head to press his lips against it, then continues his gentle ministrations.

"Yeah." Cillian Quinn's touch makes something in his chest creak as it shifts. His shampoo is grabbed, a quick lather as he talks. "This was before it started getting blown up every few months. A 'once in a lifetime event'..."

Trailing off to rinse, he sighs as the water, predictably, starts to cool.

But where the touch made something shift, the kiss makes it snap.

The turn around is quick enough. Temp tries to crowd Gavin in, grabs for his chin to hold him in place to devour him. Kiss was too gentle a word for what he wanted. It's sudden and sharp and deep.

Tempest Quinn turns, sudden and sharp, catching him off guard.

The grip on his chin reaches some primal part of Gavin's brain, makes his muscles go weak. But it's a different kind of attack than the one he expects. The kiss is rough and hungry and met with no resistance, only a soft 'mmph' of surprise at the clash of tongue and teeth.

He's crowded, trapped, but the heat in his veins isn't anger.

His back hits the wall, one hand pressed against the shower door for balance while the other braces against Temp's chest.

It's only the sting of cold water that brings him back.

Back from bitten lips, back from trying to devour Cillian Quinn.

When he pulls back his eyes are soft but far away.

"You're too sweet to me, Gavvie." Thick, deep, graveled.

An almost chaste, last press on his lips before he sighs and flips the water off.

His mind is muddled by his sticky and warm feelings.

"Ah fuck... wanna borrow my clothes?"

Gavin looks dazed as Tempest Quinn pulls away. There's blood on his lips, the tang of copper on his tongue. His breaths are shallow pants and he can barely feel how cool the water's gotten from the heat that floods his skin.

It's only the distance in Temp's eyes that grounds him.

It reminds him of how Theo had looked before—

His only solace is the gentle press of the other's lips. It's gentle, chaste.

Gavin's mind is muddled, too, confused and anxious.

"Oh. Uh." And normally he'd make some joke about walking around the apartment naked but his wit's not as quick through scrambled thoughts. "Yeah, if you've got anything that fits."

The moment passes. The flood of nerves that always hits him from thinking about his scar is slowly being beaten down. It's not Cillian Quinn, not really. It's the terrible coiling in his gut as he thinks of the smell of blood and saltwater, the roaring of nature mixing with his sister's crying.

That part of him didn't feel like it deserved soft kisses.

"I got some old button ups."

Another part of him would normally be thrilled at the idea of Gavin wearing his clothes. For now, he steals another kiss before stepping out of the shower, back into the world, a towel around his shoulders to keep his hair from dripping on the floor.

Tempest Quinn kisses him again, soothing the buzzing in his brain.

He was reading too much into things, he thinks. This wasn't anything serious. It was a fling, with no real emotions behind it, so what reason would Temp have to get weird about it? Breath comes easier, after that.

Gavin rubs the towel against his hair before wrapping it around himself.

"Perfect."

"Nah, 'perfect' would be you butt ass naked on my couch."

Stepping out, he goes to pull on some loose sweatpants. They hang low on his hips, well loved. Another pair, slightly nicer but only just, is grabbed for Cillian Quinn. A tank-top for himself and an old button-up for Gavin, as promised.

"I'm gonna' let my dogs out. You cool with that?"

Given Temp's aversion to pokemon seeing him naked, the awkwardness might force him to keep his hands to himself. Might.

He makes his way to his living room, a plush couch having it's pillows moved to make room for two. A blanket is pulled from the back; it's clear that Temp sleeps here from time to time despite his bed being so close.

"Get all cozy."

Gavin would rest today if it killed him.

This time, he's quick enough to fire a cheeky smirk.

"That's still an option."

It swoops low in his stomach, the thought of being adored. Treasured, even if it's only for the cut of his muscles or the way his shower-damp hair falls across his forehead just so. Wanted.

They're of similar height so the sweatpants fit him about as well as their owner. The fit of the button-up is a little less precise and he leaves it open both for comfort and for the way Temp's gaze might wander his chest, a map of flesh marked with scars.

"Yeh, that's fine."

Gavin curls against the pillows, legs tucked up beneath him.

"Man, the body is willing but the flesh is weak."

He laughs and goes for his pokeballs. Two Lure balls flash- and a Smeargle and Riolu are soon on the couch with Cillian Quinn. The Riolu is familiar at least and he wastes no time in trying to get his pudgy body in Gavin's lap. Even if his vibes are kind of off, Temp trusts Gavin, so that means that Skipper trusts Gavin, too.

The Smeargle seems a bit more concerned, at first, before he also clamors on the couch and tries to lean against Gavin for pets.

Temp laughs before sitting down, beaten up cellphone in hand with an old menu. He grabs his TV remote and offers the other.

"You seen any of those 'Revengers' movies?"

"The flesh needs to step up its game."

But apart from a teasing grin, Gavin doesn't move from the comfortable position he finds on the couch. He's so tired that he can practically feel himself becoming one with the furniture, melting until he's a part of the ambiance.

The clutter and cozy vibe of Tempest Quinn's space is so different from his own bright, open spaces... but it's nice. It's easier to forget, like this.

Skipper pulls a fond smile and Gavin offers the Smeargle his hand to sniff before he rewards it the pets it clearly desires.

"This one got a name?"

At the mention of movies, he shakes his head.

"Not really a film guy, I mostly read books. What're they about?"

He thinks the name sounds vaguely familiar, like maybe he's seen movie posters or commercials or something.

Temp is absolutely ready to fire off some challenging remark about how Cillian Quinn couldnm't keep up, but he knows himself (and the other) well enough by now to know that won't end well. Or very good. Matter of perspective. Either way, he knows he doesn't need to get any suspicious liquids on his couch.

"Captain!" The Smeargle perks up at his name. He's too into the pats that Gavin is giving him to do much more than that, though. Skipper does adjust himself to sit between the two humans, happy to be involved.

"They're uh... like super hero movies, I think? People talk about them all the time at work. I guess they're all set in the same universe, and there's like a bunch of them, and then the heroes appear in each other's movies... but I don't know any of the plot."

He flipped on the TV, some movie channel already on. His lip twitched to keep from smiling when he saw what it was.

"Or we could watch this. Mob movie."