Rocks. He'd been so certain there was a point where it couldn't get any weirder, when he knew everything about his lover, at least the important stuff for the moment. He'd chattered so excitedly and so fast on the way back to Oreburgh the senior gym leader hadn't quite been able to take it all in, his head still spinning as the other fumbled with the keys to the imposing front door. And once he had, things had taken a sharp turn downhill again.
The trainer gapes for a moment, closes his mouth and rubs his hair back, turns to Roark, re-locking the door.
"...Hey uh, might be a bit too forward of me-" Shit, as someone that had buried his entire dick in Roark's ass, that sounded dumb.
"What's with all the rocks?" The man straightens, dusts off his pants.
"Oh ah..." his cheeks colour, he drops his head slightly, rubs the back of his neck nervously, Volkner wonders offhandedly if he ever felt anything besides nervous.
"They're just...collections. I um...like rocks. I think they look nice arranged like that." An eyebrow raises, the blonde skulks a little closer.
"In a tower? A big pile?" Roark coughs.
"L-leave off, all right?" he huffs, moves past him down the long, rock dotted hallway.
"It's just a hobby." Volkner makes an amused noise, follows him.
"I don't know if collecting garden variety rocks counts as a hobby, princess." Roark appears to ignore the comment as well as the petname, striding into the kitchen.
"How do you take your coffee?" he mutters at the bench. Volkner circles it, leans his elbows and tilts his head in the man's direction.
"Coffee? You're honestly making me coffee? That's how we're gonna start this?" he teases, gives him a playful jab that Roark swipes away.
"Ah-um...yes-don't look at me please-"
"Oh. Right." Volkner whistles, gazes off in the opposite direction, reciting.
"I take it black." Roark can't help smirking.
"Hardcore."
So they drank coffee huddled together on the couch, watching a horrible soap opera. Not really what Volkner had in mind, but Roark looked content. He supposed that was all that mattered. Besides, he had broad shoulders. Quickly deciding that taking his coffee was a horrible idea, he places it off to the side to let it get cold, sighs heavily. Roark shifts slightly, lets out a breathy laugh.
"Tickles..." he mutters to himself. Volkner's face softens as he watches the other gym leader gazing intently at the TV, or at least as long as he can until Roark starts squirming. God, these soap operas were so bad. How did he watch this stuff? Increasingly bored, Volkner slides his arms slowly down behind Roark's back, around his waist. The man's eyes flicker to his, cough once, lean back into the couch. Taking this as as much of an invitation he was going to get, he leans in until his lips meet the other's neck, a shuddering gasp runs up Roark's body, Volkner hums comfortingly, purses his lips and begins to kiss up his neck to his jaw.
"Ah...Volkner I'm-"
"Trying to watch your show? Go on. Am I bothering you?" Roark chews on his lower lip, in a cute way that makes Volkner want to lean over and suck it, but he waits for the answer.
"Um...no...no, it's okay." his hips shift a little closer, Volkner knows he has the okay.
"Good." he murmurs.
"Close your eyes then." Roark purses his lips.
"Do I have t-"
"Unless you don't want to." Roark swallows.
"Okay, fine."
"You talk like I'm the one who makes you do it." the blonde laughs, nips his ear.
"Shuttup." Volkner manages to get a smooch or two out of Roark's lips before he starts to open his eyes, more interested in the soap opera than whatever Volkner wanted to do, so he leaves off, chances a sip of the cold coffee, scrunches up his face and sets it aside again, leans unapologetically on Roark's chest, on cue the other starts to stroke his hair.
"This was the lamest date ever." he murmurs, eyes half closed, not meaning a lick of it.
"You're welcome, babe." Roark replies. Volkner is silent for a second.
"...Don't ever call me that in public."