[that tim might know about his type, he means. it's a hell of a lot more than that - and in fact it is the brown haired, glasses-wearing, freckled boy with the penchant for government and us politics standing in front of him. what is he even trying to bring up by even toeing the line with the forbidden thread that haunted their second semester together? it's the thing he'd tried to bury deep down and cut off, even if some nights it felt like losing the closest thing he had to any semblance of consistency in his life outside of his profession. all this because of a sliver of skin, a flutter of lashes, carefree looking good on tim - is he really that easy to fall prey to thinking with the head between his legs and not on his shoulders?
no. it's more than that now, because it's not just the way tim looks that appeals to him. there are plenty of nameless, slender yet well-muscled pretty brunettes he's fucked since breaking off their digital tryst, and yet somehow even buried balls deep and grunting his way through a grueling fuck they don't even come close to touching their early sessions - before and after his discovery. but the awareness hits him square in the chest now, enough to knock him over with the sweet summer breeze rifling through tim's floppy strands glinting in the sunshine - those meaningless fucks don't come close to moments like this either. since when did he care about flirtatious banter, mind and body? conversations that creep more and more past the things laid out on the syllabus or just because and still rooted in the core of their working relationship? practically courting him outside of campus - coffee, lunch, scenery - christ.
maybe it's his way of saying an extended goodbye - the needle edging closer and closer to the realization that all this time is coming to an end. tim won't be his student past these last few weeks, suspended in no man's land without the pressure weighing on hawk's shoulders of a regular semester or tim's financial woes dragging him down into desperation just to survive. why shouldn't they enjoy it? they've earned it, and frankly...even if he'll never say it, he's going to miss tim's presence in more than just his class. there will be little reason for him to spend so much time in the polisci building or curled up in frankly mind-boggling positions of alleged comfort in the worn leather chair across from his real desk. maybe he'll get someone else as interested and engaged next semester, sure, but they won't be tim laughlin.
and they certainly won't roll with the double entendre, thinking so nimble and neutral in a way that would stand up against even the most rehearsed of politicians, certainly. they won't look quite so innocent while making hawk's mind whirl down deeper and deeper into a channel of dark desire, itching to pull tim by the arm into an empty classroom, or an abandoned janitor's closet and push him into one of those positions and demand him to yield, to submit to hawk and be his boy. that would be winning this game. and tim gains an upper hand in the delay it takes him to respond back, staring intently with little given away in his expression besides the intensity in his gaze that he wishes might pin him in place and convey everything he's locked away since december.]
Taking them well isn't quite as easy - you've gotten good enough to barely break a sweat.
[he steps in closer, shoulders lifted and raising to his full height even though tim matches him there too.]
Seeing you on top, putting that flexibility to use would give me plenty of joy. Bragging rights, too.
So I don't want you to stop, and I have no plans to either.
[his hand reaches past tim, covering over the hand on the doorknob as an excuse to slot practically against him and murmur low in his ear.]
Not even if you beg me.
[and then he's pulling open the door, shifting back with a pleasant smile like none of this ever happened, like their conversation has been wholly class related. all track of time has been lost, and maybe there's a room full of confused students waiting for him and maybe it's empty. he can't give a damn. especially not when tim gives him eyes like that, like he's waiting for something too that has nothing to do with an assignment or reviewing their assigned reading. hawk has an idea.]
Get inside. Your mouth is going to tell everyone else to stay in their seats while I take my time. Think you can handle that?
no subject
[that tim might know about his type, he means. it's a hell of a lot more than that - and in fact it is the brown haired, glasses-wearing, freckled boy with the penchant for government and us politics standing in front of him. what is he even trying to bring up by even toeing the line with the forbidden thread that haunted their second semester together? it's the thing he'd tried to bury deep down and cut off, even if some nights it felt like losing the closest thing he had to any semblance of consistency in his life outside of his profession. all this because of a sliver of skin, a flutter of lashes, carefree looking good on tim - is he really that easy to fall prey to thinking with the head between his legs and not on his shoulders?
no. it's more than that now, because it's not just the way tim looks that appeals to him. there are plenty of nameless, slender yet well-muscled pretty brunettes he's fucked since breaking off their digital tryst, and yet somehow even buried balls deep and grunting his way through a grueling fuck they don't even come close to touching their early sessions - before and after his discovery. but the awareness hits him square in the chest now, enough to knock him over with the sweet summer breeze rifling through tim's floppy strands glinting in the sunshine - those meaningless fucks don't come close to moments like this either. since when did he care about flirtatious banter, mind and body? conversations that creep more and more past the things laid out on the syllabus or just because and still rooted in the core of their working relationship? practically courting him outside of campus - coffee, lunch, scenery - christ.
maybe it's his way of saying an extended goodbye - the needle edging closer and closer to the realization that all this time is coming to an end. tim won't be his student past these last few weeks, suspended in no man's land without the pressure weighing on hawk's shoulders of a regular semester or tim's financial woes dragging him down into desperation just to survive. why shouldn't they enjoy it? they've earned it, and frankly...even if he'll never say it, he's going to miss tim's presence in more than just his class. there will be little reason for him to spend so much time in the polisci building or curled up in frankly mind-boggling positions of alleged comfort in the worn leather chair across from his real desk. maybe he'll get someone else as interested and engaged next semester, sure, but they won't be tim laughlin.
and they certainly won't roll with the double entendre, thinking so nimble and neutral in a way that would stand up against even the most rehearsed of politicians, certainly. they won't look quite so innocent while making hawk's mind whirl down deeper and deeper into a channel of dark desire, itching to pull tim by the arm into an empty classroom, or an abandoned janitor's closet and push him into one of those positions and demand him to yield, to submit to hawk and be his boy. that would be winning this game. and tim gains an upper hand in the delay it takes him to respond back, staring intently with little given away in his expression besides the intensity in his gaze that he wishes might pin him in place and convey everything he's locked away since december.]
Taking them well isn't quite as easy - you've gotten good enough to barely break a sweat.
[he steps in closer, shoulders lifted and raising to his full height even though tim matches him there too.]
Seeing you on top, putting that flexibility to use would give me plenty of joy. Bragging rights, too.
So I don't want you to stop, and I have no plans to either.
[his hand reaches past tim, covering over the hand on the doorknob as an excuse to slot practically against him and murmur low in his ear.]
Not even if you beg me.
[and then he's pulling open the door, shifting back with a pleasant smile like none of this ever happened, like their conversation has been wholly class related. all track of time has been lost, and maybe there's a room full of confused students waiting for him and maybe it's empty. he can't give a damn. especially not when tim gives him eyes like that, like he's waiting for something too that has nothing to do with an assignment or reviewing their assigned reading. hawk has an idea.]
Get inside. Your mouth is going to tell everyone else to stay in their seats while I take my time. Think you can handle that?