[i'll do whatever you tell me sends a rush of blood where it absolutely shouldn't be going right now, and it's hard not to think of all those nights propped up at his desk doing exactly that with "skippy", watching him bend every which way and comply with each of his orders to simple perfection. the thought of doing some of those in person, no distance between them, where he might watch pleasure contort across every smooth angle of tim's face for his leisurely perusal...that's more intoxicating than any wine or malted liquor could ever inspire. it makes him think of the car ride too when he watches the pretty blush that seems reluctant to fade from tim's cheeks - it only hits him just now that he's been making generous pours when the boy is a self-confessed non-frequent drinker. and it means something more than just the endearing realization that he's probably getting tipsy off the energy between them and the wine and the rich italian food they're sharing - it means he trusts hawk to let himself get loose and honest and so goddamn earnest.
it's hard not to feel his chest tighten with abject affection at that. hard not to consider how difficult navigating the ride home is going to be when hawk is already reaching his limit of self-restraint at patience when all he wants to do is lean over and plant one on him, to taste how much better this wine is straight from rosy lips and breathe in the familiar scent of him that had lingered on his pillows and sheets, haunting him for weeks after tim left. god. it'll be in his car now, surely adding pep to his step when gets on campus after letting it linger in the mornings among coffee and a cigarette. it'll be there waiting for him in the parking lot, almost like he can pretend tim is at home doing just the same.
fuck. when did he let himself get into it this bad?]
Thank you for coming. With me.
[the moment dies down just a bit when tim finally pulls his hand back, and hawk thinks that'll be the end of it for now - until those soft lips mimic his earlier motion with a sweet kiss to his lips and then, impossibly, another lick of heat when they graze his thumb. he'd be stupefied if there was a kitten lick to accompany it, and thank fuck there isn't, because he's not sure he wouldn't immediately find himself at half mast. the surprise is evident in the way his brows shoot up for a moment, lips parting before he grins and recovers easily, turning and ordering his own meal with a smooth little interaction with the waiter.
the rest of the meal is rewarding in its own way - learning more about tim's aspirations as if they haven't covered it dozens of times already, yet still always revealing a glimmering pearl of something new that hawk wants to covet for himself. he opens up about his own time at georgetown nearly a decade ago, even an anecdote about craig shitfaced and doing the walk of shame across fraternity grounds to the star spangled banner on veterans day after a hookup gone wrong that made the rounds for weeks after.
the sun has long since set, the warmth now flickering across tim's honeyed gaze from the candles lit at their table and the romantic atmosphere only ticking up a notch. he finds himself sneaking glances as tim eats his meal here and there - to watch his lips wrap around a fork, to savor the flavor of something particularly rich, to offer a twinkling little glance of affection the few times he catches hawk do it.
it's a shame it has to come to an end. but hawk swirls the remnants of his final glass of wine, draining its contents in one elegant swallow before flagging down the waiter again.]
We'd be kicking ourselves if we didn't at least try dessert. Could you bring the menu when you've got a sec? Thanks, boss.
[it's an excuse to drag this out a little longer, and an utterly transparent one at that. if anything he looks a tiny bit sheepish when he shrugs at tim.]
This is going to beat anything in my snack drawer, by the way.
[an idea strikes him, and once it takes niggling hold at the root of his thoughts, there is no avoiding it. there's an amused glint in his eye, and he leans forward conspiratorially.]
How about we split something? Thoughts on strawberry cassata cake?
no subject
it's hard not to feel his chest tighten with abject affection at that. hard not to consider how difficult navigating the ride home is going to be when hawk is already reaching his limit of self-restraint at patience when all he wants to do is lean over and plant one on him, to taste how much better this wine is straight from rosy lips and breathe in the familiar scent of him that had lingered on his pillows and sheets, haunting him for weeks after tim left. god. it'll be in his car now, surely adding pep to his step when gets on campus after letting it linger in the mornings among coffee and a cigarette. it'll be there waiting for him in the parking lot, almost like he can pretend tim is at home doing just the same.
fuck. when did he let himself get into it this bad?]
Thank you for coming. With me.
[the moment dies down just a bit when tim finally pulls his hand back, and hawk thinks that'll be the end of it for now - until those soft lips mimic his earlier motion with a sweet kiss to his lips and then, impossibly, another lick of heat when they graze his thumb. he'd be stupefied if there was a kitten lick to accompany it, and thank fuck there isn't, because he's not sure he wouldn't immediately find himself at half mast. the surprise is evident in the way his brows shoot up for a moment, lips parting before he grins and recovers easily, turning and ordering his own meal with a smooth little interaction with the waiter.
the rest of the meal is rewarding in its own way - learning more about tim's aspirations as if they haven't covered it dozens of times already, yet still always revealing a glimmering pearl of something new that hawk wants to covet for himself. he opens up about his own time at georgetown nearly a decade ago, even an anecdote about craig shitfaced and doing the walk of shame across fraternity grounds to the star spangled banner on veterans day after a hookup gone wrong that made the rounds for weeks after.
the sun has long since set, the warmth now flickering across tim's honeyed gaze from the candles lit at their table and the romantic atmosphere only ticking up a notch. he finds himself sneaking glances as tim eats his meal here and there - to watch his lips wrap around a fork, to savor the flavor of something particularly rich, to offer a twinkling little glance of affection the few times he catches hawk do it.
it's a shame it has to come to an end. but hawk swirls the remnants of his final glass of wine, draining its contents in one elegant swallow before flagging down the waiter again.]
We'd be kicking ourselves if we didn't at least try dessert. Could you bring the menu when you've got a sec? Thanks, boss.
[it's an excuse to drag this out a little longer, and an utterly transparent one at that. if anything he looks a tiny bit sheepish when he shrugs at tim.]
This is going to beat anything in my snack drawer, by the way.
[an idea strikes him, and once it takes niggling hold at the root of his thoughts, there is no avoiding it. there's an amused glint in his eye, and he leans forward conspiratorially.]
How about we split something? Thoughts on strawberry cassata cake?