[the other thing that isn't quick or easy: this. the realization that's bubbled up and come to an outright boil - that he can ignore no longer. something has changed this summer, and with only a few weeks ahead of them, hawk has accepted that it means whatever moral technicalities he was gripping tight to are about to be relinquished. a clean slate. or maybe he's just...trying to give tim the right inspiration. kind words and encouragement can only go so far, and it's not that he's running out of them per se, but all of this is unchartered territory. so maybe that extra push he needs is back and buried where he'd left it all those months ago - the reassurance that hawk has always believed in him, has known all along what he's capable of when he puts his mind to it. that's his boy, his skippy, even if he wouldn't dare call him as much within these walls.
(the idea that that somehow is what's the step too far and not...this, is probably laughable.)
but if tim means to hook him by way of every movement, it's working. there's no missing the ripple of his throat over the bob of his adam's apple, the swallow, the perfect way his back curves like a flower seeking the sunlight before it flourishes, perched perfect and poised for the taking. and christ, those eyes - how they manage to say everything they're both thinking without a single word beneath those pretty, fluttering lashes drawing him down once more to bitten lips. and no, it doesn't escape his gaze that the pretty pink nipples he knows are extraordinarily sensitive have perked up beneath the light colour of his shirt.
fuck. what he wouldn't give to yank him back, make him beg for a kiss and put him on his knees to make the only marks on his body given to him by hawk, claiming his ownership on his boy once and for all. how he's lasted this long is a goddamn miracle. how he'll keep lasting after this is pure insanity when those legs bump innocently against his, when tim restates who he belongs to, who he's going to do this for.]
Good boy. That's what I wanted to hear.
[and foolishly, he expects that to break the tension - to bring them back into the reality of their situation like they have time and time again. but this time another one of those invisible boundaries has been wholly eroded, and tim stands with a courage that he's not sure would have been there after christmas or even before the beginning of this summer semester. he really is that perfect picture of innocence standing there - knobby knees pressed together, hands held at his back like he's waiting to be allowed use of them, for another command to breathe life and purpose into him all over again. to make him proud, like he isn't already every time he sets foot through this door or opens his mouth.
hawk lets an easy smirk pull to one side of his lips, still unbelievably blatant in the way he drinks tim in from head to toe again and doesn't budge from where he's casually splayed against the edge of the desk.]
Yeah. Go on.
[there's no move to reach for it himself.]
Stay right where you are and take it.
[which would require tim to lean in impossibly and inappropriately close, fish for it behind him on the surface of his desk. but hawk's hands remain at his side, brows lifting in an easy dare. but he's selfish, wanting even the barest hint of tim's body against his own and knowing he still can't fully take it. this will have to be enough, and the piercing blue of his eyes has a wavering edge to it - the hope that tim understands enough not to ask any questions and just take what they can for now.]
no subject
[the other thing that isn't quick or easy: this. the realization that's bubbled up and come to an outright boil - that he can ignore no longer. something has changed this summer, and with only a few weeks ahead of them, hawk has accepted that it means whatever moral technicalities he was gripping tight to are about to be relinquished. a clean slate. or maybe he's just...trying to give tim the right inspiration. kind words and encouragement can only go so far, and it's not that he's running out of them per se, but all of this is unchartered territory. so maybe that extra push he needs is back and buried where he'd left it all those months ago - the reassurance that hawk has always believed in him, has known all along what he's capable of when he puts his mind to it. that's his boy, his skippy, even if he wouldn't dare call him as much within these walls.
(the idea that that somehow is what's the step too far and not...this, is probably laughable.)
but if tim means to hook him by way of every movement, it's working. there's no missing the ripple of his throat over the bob of his adam's apple, the swallow, the perfect way his back curves like a flower seeking the sunlight before it flourishes, perched perfect and poised for the taking. and christ, those eyes - how they manage to say everything they're both thinking without a single word beneath those pretty, fluttering lashes drawing him down once more to bitten lips. and no, it doesn't escape his gaze that the pretty pink nipples he knows are extraordinarily sensitive have perked up beneath the light colour of his shirt.
fuck. what he wouldn't give to yank him back, make him beg for a kiss and put him on his knees to make the only marks on his body given to him by hawk, claiming his ownership on his boy once and for all. how he's lasted this long is a goddamn miracle. how he'll keep lasting after this is pure insanity when those legs bump innocently against his, when tim restates who he belongs to, who he's going to do this for.]
Good boy. That's what I wanted to hear.
[and foolishly, he expects that to break the tension - to bring them back into the reality of their situation like they have time and time again. but this time another one of those invisible boundaries has been wholly eroded, and tim stands with a courage that he's not sure would have been there after christmas or even before the beginning of this summer semester. he really is that perfect picture of innocence standing there - knobby knees pressed together, hands held at his back like he's waiting to be allowed use of them, for another command to breathe life and purpose into him all over again. to make him proud, like he isn't already every time he sets foot through this door or opens his mouth.
hawk lets an easy smirk pull to one side of his lips, still unbelievably blatant in the way he drinks tim in from head to toe again and doesn't budge from where he's casually splayed against the edge of the desk.]
Yeah. Go on.
[there's no move to reach for it himself.]
Stay right where you are and take it.
[which would require tim to lean in impossibly and inappropriately close, fish for it behind him on the surface of his desk. but hawk's hands remain at his side, brows lifting in an easy dare. but he's selfish, wanting even the barest hint of tim's body against his own and knowing he still can't fully take it. this will have to be enough, and the piercing blue of his eyes has a wavering edge to it - the hope that tim understands enough not to ask any questions and just take what they can for now.]