Jim always ran hot. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe it was a flaw in the robotics. Sometimes it was near unbearable. When Namor dragged him the nearest available semblance of privacy and kissed him, he felt like he was trying to woo a boiling kettle. They drowned beds in sweat, Namor's Atlantean biology beginning to signal its distress, reacting to the heat like fever.
Once Namor flinched away. Jim gasped out an apology; Namor rolled his eyes and covered the android's flushed face with a patched burlap pillow. Most of the time, both of them put a concerted effort into meeting at their human middle, so both of them could cope.
One day, it rained, and while the others were huddled in tents for shelter, Namor took Jim out into a secluded corner of woods and shoved him against a tree while he was still irritated and confused. They ended up losing each other in a cloud of steam.
