[fuck. how is he meant to listen to anything coming out of tim's mouth right now when the pointed studs of those perfect nipples are poking against his shirt obscenely? the only thing he can think about is wrapping his lips around them and sucking until tim is sobbing with need, begging him for more. insisting he's a good boy and he'll do whatever hawk asks of him.
it's distracting enough that he even misses the way some of the heat between them chills over, the sudden apprehension tim might have at being restricted from seeing hawk. truth be told, it's the highlight of his day too in all ways - better when it's in the privacy afforded to them by a closed door. but that's the exact same thing that's become a liability right now, a dangerous temptation to do something he can't take back. hawk doesn't know if he can trust himself not to bend tim laughlin over his desk and take and take and take what the boy so desperately has wanted to give all along. this conversation is already the riskiest thing he's had in years - somehow worse than their snowy encounter - literal and physical. and yet there's no move to shut it down, continuing instead to indulge all of this. to give him an order, to watch him obey.
cruelty isn't what he's after. it'll be a challenge, sure - time aware from the carefully crafted cadence they've so easily slipped into this summer. tim stays longer, finds more ridiculous ways to cram himself into the seat across from hawk, and they pass the time together. hours added onto 90 minutes a day, three times a week. what would the combined tally of minutes or even seconds look like? maybe he's an idiot for never having realized just how much this would affect him too - the lack of a constant presence and a vibrance that's unmistakably brightened his days. days that are lonelier than he'd like to admit. yeah, he sees marcus once in awhile. dinner with dean smith, avoiding the topic of lucy in every way that's concrete and matters. his mother for lunch, every other month if he's lucky. but beyond that? tim is the most stable thing that's taken root in his life in a very, very long time.
but it's better this way. it'll give the boy something to strive for, make it all the more convincing to craig. and it'll give hawk enough time not to let his dick convince himself into any headaches and problems he can't reverse before it's too late.
the thing is - he's not wholly unreasonable, either. when he's able to drag his gaze back up from the tight body perched in front of him and back up to tim's face, he realizes there is a falter in the fervor he'd missed earlier - only proving his own point. jesus.]
B- at the very least.
[c+ seems a little too easy.]
Of course you can do it. I know you can - and you will.
[the way he exposes his neck just a little more, it draws hawk forward again like he's pulled on a string. wishing he could taste the salty sweat there, leave his mark and let everyone know this is his boy. and then the bruise - it almost makes him want to reach out and press his finger into it, to watch the color fade temporarily into his skin before it floods back with the vivid rush of blood at the surface into red-edged purple. but touching feels like breaking some invisible barrier, the slippery slope that will lead them both into temptation, with no deliverance from that evil enticement of the flesh.]
Can't imagine being upset about that.
The only thing I'm upset about is not being able to hear it myself. Watch it in the flesh.
[his jaw flickers, tilting tipping to the side and watching something come to life in tim's eyes - beautiful, bright, bold.)]
I'd like to know how many times you can say them in one day, if I'm being honest. Not very godly of me though, is it?
[amusement shimmers, the faint lines around his eyes crinkling with a warmth that offsets ice blue.]
[(there is sudden thing that strikes him like a bolt to the chest - could he imagine giving any of this up, even if that reward was claimed? that's what he'd have to do, isn't it?)]
no subject
it's distracting enough that he even misses the way some of the heat between them chills over, the sudden apprehension tim might have at being restricted from seeing hawk. truth be told, it's the highlight of his day too in all ways - better when it's in the privacy afforded to them by a closed door. but that's the exact same thing that's become a liability right now, a dangerous temptation to do something he can't take back. hawk doesn't know if he can trust himself not to bend tim laughlin over his desk and take and take and take what the boy so desperately has wanted to give all along. this conversation is already the riskiest thing he's had in years - somehow worse than their snowy encounter - literal and physical. and yet there's no move to shut it down, continuing instead to indulge all of this. to give him an order, to watch him obey.
cruelty isn't what he's after. it'll be a challenge, sure - time aware from the carefully crafted cadence they've so easily slipped into this summer. tim stays longer, finds more ridiculous ways to cram himself into the seat across from hawk, and they pass the time together. hours added onto 90 minutes a day, three times a week. what would the combined tally of minutes or even seconds look like? maybe he's an idiot for never having realized just how much this would affect him too - the lack of a constant presence and a vibrance that's unmistakably brightened his days. days that are lonelier than he'd like to admit. yeah, he sees marcus once in awhile. dinner with dean smith, avoiding the topic of lucy in every way that's concrete and matters. his mother for lunch, every other month if he's lucky. but beyond that? tim is the most stable thing that's taken root in his life in a very, very long time.
but it's better this way. it'll give the boy something to strive for, make it all the more convincing to craig. and it'll give hawk enough time not to let his dick convince himself into any headaches and problems he can't reverse before it's too late.
the thing is - he's not wholly unreasonable, either. when he's able to drag his gaze back up from the tight body perched in front of him and back up to tim's face, he realizes there is a falter in the fervor he'd missed earlier - only proving his own point. jesus.]
B- at the very least.
[c+ seems a little too easy.]
Of course you can do it. I know you can - and you will.
[the way he exposes his neck just a little more, it draws hawk forward again like he's pulled on a string. wishing he could taste the salty sweat there, leave his mark and let everyone know this is his boy. and then the bruise - it almost makes him want to reach out and press his finger into it, to watch the color fade temporarily into his skin before it floods back with the vivid rush of blood at the surface into red-edged purple. but touching feels like breaking some invisible barrier, the slippery slope that will lead them both into temptation, with no deliverance from that evil enticement of the flesh.]
Can't imagine being upset about that.
The only thing I'm upset about is not being able to hear it myself. Watch it in the flesh.
[his jaw flickers, tilting tipping to the side and watching something come to life in tim's eyes - beautiful, bright, bold.)]
I'd like to know how many times you can say them in one day, if I'm being honest. Not very godly of me though, is it?
[amusement shimmers, the faint lines around his eyes crinkling with a warmth that offsets ice blue.]
I guess there's only one question left.
[he pauses, voice pitching low again, letting something husky deepen the consonants.]
What does my boy want for his reward?
[(there is sudden thing that strikes him like a bolt to the chest - could he imagine giving any of this up, even if that reward was claimed? that's what he'd have to do, isn't it?)]