[ good boy said out loud and warm against his near makes tim moan unexpectedly, his head tipping back as his bites his lip to prevent the sound from getting too loud. it's nothing of the played at, wanton sounds he makes for the tippers in his chats, and even more raw than those hawk coaxed out of him in their private sessions.

he nods his head a little, eyes fluttering as the man's broad hand guides his own over his hardening cock. ]

Yes, sir.

[ hawk's weight at his back and side, the tip of their cheeks to touching is enough to make him begin to flush, his face burning hot, the color creeping down his neck past the collar of his sweater. the squeeze of their joined hands around the tip of his cock makes him hum quiet and needy. the muscles of his thighs jump visibly, resisting the urge to thrust into the press of their hands. ]

Yes, professor. I want to do well - I'll do whatever you tell me to do, professor. I want to be your good boy.

[ tim's voice has turned into a wavering, airy little thing - not the practiced purr of the student on the other side of the screen but the genuine stripping back of walls, the raw nerve of his desire exposed. ]

Please, professor.

[ he doesn't know what he's asking for, his mind blank and bursting with stars at the touches. ]