[it occurs to him that he really ought to ask how many dates tim has been on - not for ego's sake (well - maybe a little bit for ego's sake) - but to gauge what that really means. sometimes it's still hard to reconcile the boy on camera who he'd assumed must have men falling for him left and right, dying to spend even just five minutes of time with him in whatever method was allowed. that assumption had extended into the daydreams about real life too - did he have a boyfriend? single? dating around? surely he had his pick of anyone he wanted. but then there's the tim he knows and remembers the slurred words of in the hospital that day, affirming there really wasn't anyone here for him. no friends, certainly no boyfriend, and not even classmates who might think twice other than to copy notes when they'd ditched.
it seems utterly unfathomable to him that it would be that way - that the light he sees in tim that is overwhelmingly vibrant and beautiful and unique would be otherwise unobserved by almost everyone around him. of course there are other teachers who admire his contributions - but they won't remember him the way hawk does, moreso a passing fascination and a novelty that a student is willing to put in so much extra work. that someone is actually thoughtful in their answers, not on auto-pilot to get a great and get out of the class. it's why no one's gone the extra mile to nurture him, to reach in and shape the rough edges of the diamond that's inside into something glittering and spectacular, ready to dazzle the world.
(that's why he knows his own time is limited - because someday everyone else will catch up. they'll see tim for all the kindness and warmth and intelligence he possesses, and they will elevate him to the pedestal he should occupy. they'll adore him, and hawk will be the one fading into the background, irrelevant - just a stepping stone along the way.)
but there's little time to linger on the way his chest twinges with something painful at that idea, instead lining up the first bite of dessert and offering it oh so politely to his date, just like a gentleman should. none of this was going to be chaste, per se - but hawk immediately realizes there's a very solid chance he's completely underestimated tim's ability to set his entire chest ablaze, dick twitching with want as he watches the show unfold. and it really is something of a show - not the finessed, choreographed kind of thing he remembers from earlier streams, but the moment just getting the better of tim and letting him dive headfirst into it, the only way he knows how. he watches him scoot in eagerly, eyes falling half-lidded between a coquettish little declaration that this is all for hawk - his mister, and then he pushes himself up with his back arched the way he might to show off that pretty pink hole hawk knows lies beneath. sticks out his tongue, gleaming under the dim lighting as it wraps around the underside of the fork.
there's no way that cream left at the corner of his mouth is anything but intentional - made to drive him slowly into temptation with no deliverance from the evil of it. fuck, hawk wants to grip him by the collar and drag him in, taste the strawberries and cream from the inside of his mouth and no other way. lick him clean, savor every inch of that velvety warmth and cherish the precise flavor of timothy laughlin. make him moan around it, moreso than he already is over the silvery tines of the fork.
tim should know he has hawkins fuller wrapped around a finger in that moment, rooted to his seat, utterly riveted by what's on display for him. what ultimately, he just can't touch. well - not completely.]
Yeah, fucking delicious.
[he hasn't had a single bite, but that's not what he's talking about anyway. but he leans in anyway, thumb brushing against the corner of tim's mouth where that little peak of white lingers. it's tempting to bring it to his own mouth, but instead he drags it along the seam of tim's lips, waiting for him to open his mouth and suck it inward.]
no subject
it seems utterly unfathomable to him that it would be that way - that the light he sees in tim that is overwhelmingly vibrant and beautiful and unique would be otherwise unobserved by almost everyone around him. of course there are other teachers who admire his contributions - but they won't remember him the way hawk does, moreso a passing fascination and a novelty that a student is willing to put in so much extra work. that someone is actually thoughtful in their answers, not on auto-pilot to get a great and get out of the class. it's why no one's gone the extra mile to nurture him, to reach in and shape the rough edges of the diamond that's inside into something glittering and spectacular, ready to dazzle the world.
(that's why he knows his own time is limited - because someday everyone else will catch up. they'll see tim for all the kindness and warmth and intelligence he possesses, and they will elevate him to the pedestal he should occupy. they'll adore him, and hawk will be the one fading into the background, irrelevant - just a stepping stone along the way.)
but there's little time to linger on the way his chest twinges with something painful at that idea, instead lining up the first bite of dessert and offering it oh so politely to his date, just like a gentleman should. none of this was going to be chaste, per se - but hawk immediately realizes there's a very solid chance he's completely underestimated tim's ability to set his entire chest ablaze, dick twitching with want as he watches the show unfold. and it really is something of a show - not the finessed, choreographed kind of thing he remembers from earlier streams, but the moment just getting the better of tim and letting him dive headfirst into it, the only way he knows how. he watches him scoot in eagerly, eyes falling half-lidded between a coquettish little declaration that this is all for hawk - his mister, and then he pushes himself up with his back arched the way he might to show off that pretty pink hole hawk knows lies beneath. sticks out his tongue, gleaming under the dim lighting as it wraps around the underside of the fork.
there's no way that cream left at the corner of his mouth is anything but intentional - made to drive him slowly into temptation with no deliverance from the evil of it. fuck, hawk wants to grip him by the collar and drag him in, taste the strawberries and cream from the inside of his mouth and no other way. lick him clean, savor every inch of that velvety warmth and cherish the precise flavor of timothy laughlin. make him moan around it, moreso than he already is over the silvery tines of the fork.
tim should know he has hawkins fuller wrapped around a finger in that moment, rooted to his seat, utterly riveted by what's on display for him. what ultimately, he just can't touch. well - not completely.]
Yeah, fucking delicious.
[he hasn't had a single bite, but that's not what he's talking about anyway. but he leans in anyway, thumb brushing against the corner of tim's mouth where that little peak of white lingers. it's tempting to bring it to his own mouth, but instead he drags it along the seam of tim's lips, waiting for him to open his mouth and suck it inward.]
You've been real good. You want some more?