Guess I can check you off my Christmas list. But we both know I'd be the one sliding down your chimney.
[he's not a regular subscriber in the sense of a monthly reoccurring charge - because that's a commitment he's not about to tie himself down with, but there's bound to be a big tip for tim come christmas morning. and if he had it his way? that'd mean more than one thing. is he even old enough to know the lyrics to santa baby? hawk doubts he's that much older, but christmas traditions with an old fashioned family and a man who never left the fucked up ideals of the 50s and 60s will do that to a person.
his father is absolutely the last thing he wants to think of while he's halfway to pulling his cock out though, so instead he drinks in that breathy little noise, the giggle that sounds downright infectious and has the corners of his lips tugging upward like a fool, like skippy could see him and know it's reciprocated just by the sheer authenticity of it. that's what can't be replicated - the obvious eagerness to please, the genuine emotion behind all of it, the time and care and devotion skippy offers up willingly, not at all like simpering influencers who will say whatever god damn thing to rake in money or manipulate someone into putting their heart and soul into an empty vessel. not that he'd be stupid enough to do it in the first place, but skippy doesn't know he makes hawk think twice.
fuck, just look at him. no questions asked, no worry, no hesitation even if it's more intimate than they've ever been before with this new revelation. and what a reveal it is - even if he's only got his fingers to do this with for now when it'd be so much better served around something else. maybe it's the light, but skippy looks like a full body blusher too, and the idea that it's making him just as hot as hawk has his hand slipping under the waistband and palming himself hard and fast with a low growl that's drowned out by the noise of slickness and skippy's soft moans.]
Perfect - yeah, just like that.
[is it good? it's fucking glorious, is what, enough that hawk lets himself full wrap a hand around the thickness of his shaft, pumping slowly and setting up a rhythm he'll be able to maintain for awhile. the shows only just begun, after all. his responses come a little slower - one handed typing is a little awkward when he's got bigger things to focus on.]
Mouth like that and it's like you were born for my cock, Skippy. Is that what you want? To take me all the way down until you're drooling around me? Or maybe you're feeling a little empty down there, under all that mess you made. Let's have a look. Take it off.
no subject
[he's not a regular subscriber in the sense of a monthly reoccurring charge - because that's a commitment he's not about to tie himself down with, but there's bound to be a big tip for tim come christmas morning. and if he had it his way? that'd mean more than one thing. is he even old enough to know the lyrics to santa baby? hawk doubts he's that much older, but christmas traditions with an old fashioned family and a man who never left the fucked up ideals of the 50s and 60s will do that to a person.
his father is absolutely the last thing he wants to think of while he's halfway to pulling his cock out though, so instead he drinks in that breathy little noise, the giggle that sounds downright infectious and has the corners of his lips tugging upward like a fool, like skippy could see him and know it's reciprocated just by the sheer authenticity of it. that's what can't be replicated - the obvious eagerness to please, the genuine emotion behind all of it, the time and care and devotion skippy offers up willingly, not at all like simpering influencers who will say whatever god damn thing to rake in money or manipulate someone into putting their heart and soul into an empty vessel. not that he'd be stupid enough to do it in the first place, but skippy doesn't know he makes hawk think twice.
fuck, just look at him. no questions asked, no worry, no hesitation even if it's more intimate than they've ever been before with this new revelation. and what a reveal it is - even if he's only got his fingers to do this with for now when it'd be so much better served around something else. maybe it's the light, but skippy looks like a full body blusher too, and the idea that it's making him just as hot as hawk has his hand slipping under the waistband and palming himself hard and fast with a low growl that's drowned out by the noise of slickness and skippy's soft moans.]
Perfect - yeah, just like that.
[is it good? it's fucking glorious, is what, enough that hawk lets himself full wrap a hand around the thickness of his shaft, pumping slowly and setting up a rhythm he'll be able to maintain for awhile. the shows only just begun, after all. his responses come a little slower - one handed typing is a little awkward when he's got bigger things to focus on.]
Mouth like that and it's like you were born for my cock, Skippy.
Is that what you want? To take me all the way down until you're drooling around me?
Or maybe you're feeling a little empty down there, under all that mess you made.
Let's have a look. Take it off.
[as an afterthought:]
And keep sucking.