[ how can they go back to civil conversations divided by desks and chairs now, mediated by essays and projects and academia. he wants nothing more than to slide his chair round the side of the table and take up space beside the man, press into his side and breathe in his aftershave again, to let him taste just how delicious the dessert indeed is.
it's filthy, thinking this way. it's nearly filthy what he's doing, leaning over and accepting each healthy forkful. he shouldn't be so obscene in public, shouldn't show this much interest in general, but the wine has made him bold, and the romance of the night even bolder.
so he leans to take the next bite, as slow and sensuous as the one before, but just as he closes his mouth around only half the bite (resulting in icing of course spreading upon his lips), he reaches to catch hawk's wrist as his head pulls away, thumb pressing into his pulsepoint like before as his free hand pries the fork away.
licking his lips, tim turns the fork instead toward hawk - the half bite left on the tines, icing smudged and waiting. ]
But you haven't even tried it. You should. I'll share, sir.
[ he offers the fork out himself to hawk, just as the man had done for him, and tim's cheeks burn with the thought of his own audacity here - the courage he'd never had with any other date before. it doesn't help that the heat has traveled down his chest and has made his cock throb with want in a way he's not experienced.
he wants hawk to want him. and while his coquettish behavior should be punishable by some, he can't help himself. he likes being this boy for hawk, and likes exploring just what this sort of affection can be like when they're far from campus.
it's silly, that a date like this gives him some kind of hope. he's seen movies, tv shows - dates like this end in sex, end in goodbyes, end in shame. but leaning over the table, fork extended, tim's earnestness is genuine and hopeful. ]
I promise you'll love it. What's on the plate, and off.
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it's filthy, thinking this way. it's nearly filthy what he's doing, leaning over and accepting each healthy forkful. he shouldn't be so obscene in public, shouldn't show this much interest in general, but the wine has made him bold, and the romance of the night even bolder.
so he leans to take the next bite, as slow and sensuous as the one before, but just as he closes his mouth around only half the bite (resulting in icing of course spreading upon his lips), he reaches to catch hawk's wrist as his head pulls away, thumb pressing into his pulsepoint like before as his free hand pries the fork away.
licking his lips, tim turns the fork instead toward hawk - the half bite left on the tines, icing smudged and waiting. ]
But you haven't even tried it. You should. I'll share, sir.
[ he offers the fork out himself to hawk, just as the man had done for him, and tim's cheeks burn with the thought of his own audacity here - the courage he'd never had with any other date before. it doesn't help that the heat has traveled down his chest and has made his cock throb with want in a way he's not experienced.
he wants hawk to want him. and while his coquettish behavior should be punishable by some, he can't help himself. he likes being this boy for hawk, and likes exploring just what this sort of affection can be like when they're far from campus.
it's silly, that a date like this gives him some kind of hope. he's seen movies, tv shows - dates like this end in sex, end in goodbyes, end in shame. but leaning over the table, fork extended, tim's earnestness is genuine and hopeful. ]
I promise you'll love it. What's on the plate, and off.