There's a momentary kick up in Koby's heartrate at being kissed in public, in the daylight, with most of the other house guests around them. It's not that he assumes Quentin would want to hide this, except -- except there's a level of pride to it, a level of soft, sweet casual affection that Koby's not used to experiencing so visibly. Kiss him in the dark, in the secluded safety of their rooms, in the heated press of Otherworld, that all makes sense.

But kissing him here, pressed up against the side of the pool, warm and wet and close, smiling against his mouth like nothing's strange, nothing's new, is -- more than Koby had let himself hope for. More than he'd thought to ask, from Quentin, from anyone. It's like being chosen, being seen, and it makes something old and scarred-over in his chest ache a bit, makes the bracelet bracketing his wrist feel too tight, suddenly. Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe it can be simple, this time.

It certainly feels like it, with the pulse of the music and the light splash of the too-clean water and the warmth of Quentin's hand finding the dip of his waist. "I'll think about it, next time I jump in." Koby smiles, tugs at a long, loose curl, then chases after that kiss until he's splashed. Then he gasps, mock offended. "How dare you. Insubordination and mutiny." And he splashes Quentin right back, a little flick of water, grinning so wide it's impossible to maintain the facade of being offended.