[of course he's lying. that's the sad reality he won't let himself dwell on, the epitome that neatly summarizes the whole of his life - a carefully crafted lie to make things "easier". these days though, he's wondering exactly who it's supposed to be easier for - because it certainly doesn't feel like it's for him.
this chat box might just be the most honest space he has - and if he were to get a little drunker and a little more morose, there's a slew of ideas to unpack around it, like the fact that he tests out certain endearments and sometimes lets himself pretend the boy on the other end is his and his alone. someone to come home to, someone that dangerously has merged with a pretty face and thick black spectacles over pretty brown eyes and floppy brunette hair. it wouldn't be the first student that's caught his eye in a severe lack of professionalism, but it is the one he's let himself get carried away with in the safety of black against white and the unending blink of a cursor.]
To you? Never.
[that much is true. for now. but his attention is drawn elsewhere when thumbs hook against the soft fabric of his worn shirt and tug it up, inch by inch of toned flesh that ratchets up his pulse and has his cock stirring against his palm with ease.]
That'll do. Sounds like you're a little feisty tonight. Something got you riled up?
[hawk watches the way the dim light shifts over his hips - like a fucking aircraft martial directing his gaze straight to it, making him imagine what the sweat and hot skin would taste like under his tongue.]
You know what's next. Show me what you've got under there tonight - pants off.
[boxers? tighty whities? a jock strap? nothing at all? it's always a delightful surprise - and it's all but guaranteed to make hawk's mouth water.]
no subject
this chat box might just be the most honest space he has - and if he were to get a little drunker and a little more morose, there's a slew of ideas to unpack around it, like the fact that he tests out certain endearments and sometimes lets himself pretend the boy on the other end is his and his alone. someone to come home to, someone that dangerously has merged with a pretty face and thick black spectacles over pretty brown eyes and floppy brunette hair. it wouldn't be the first student that's caught his eye in a severe lack of professionalism, but it is the one he's let himself get carried away with in the safety of black against white and the unending blink of a cursor.]
To you? Never.
[that much is true. for now. but his attention is drawn elsewhere when thumbs hook against the soft fabric of his worn shirt and tug it up, inch by inch of toned flesh that ratchets up his pulse and has his cock stirring against his palm with ease.]
That'll do.
Sounds like you're a little feisty tonight. Something got you riled up?
[hawk watches the way the dim light shifts over his hips - like a fucking aircraft martial directing his gaze straight to it, making him imagine what the sweat and hot skin would taste like under his tongue.]
You know what's next. Show me what you've got under there tonight - pants off.
[boxers? tighty whities? a jock strap? nothing at all? it's always a delightful surprise - and it's all but guaranteed to make hawk's mouth water.]