[really, how can they? hawk doesn't think it's possible, knowing everything between them is forever altered - an undercurrent of heat, the dangerous flirtation and blatant attraction utterly gaping and palpable between them. maybe a part of it always was, letting tim get as close as he has. ushering him in, tending to him in his time of need. would he have done that if it was a student that didn't perform as well? didn't have pretty brown doe eyes and long, nimble fingers tapping away with a face still undeniably handsome even as it scrunched in concentration? a student who hawk hadn't seen get himself off only by filthy words typed out on a screen, begging for release and guidance as easily as he might ask for clarification on an argument against dubai foreign policy.
this would all be a lot harder to justify if they didn't only have finals to get through. and then - on a technicality, he'll be relieved of his duties as tim's professor, instead reverting to a former acquaintance. if he was worth his salt, he'd be nothing but a reference for tim to use on his future burgeoning opportunity at a career in washington - because despite all the lines he's crossing by sitting in this very seat, watching tim suck at his thumb and groan around a fork of cake like a goddamn coquette - hawk wouldn't compromise him like that. and frankly, the sane part of him that still lives somewhere in his head wouldn't do it either.
but it's awfully hard to care when he watches that pretty pink tongue drag creamy white slow across his glistening lips, when his pulse jumps against that gentle press against his wrist. he relinquishes his grip on the fork with interest, tipping his head mildly as he wonders where tim is going with this. he's half expecting him to eat the rest in some other obscene measure, something that will have him utterly throbbing beneath his already rapidly tightening inseam - but instead tim goes and surprises him, utterly thoughtful despite this heated exchange. that's the skippy he knows - never too buried in his books to remember to be sweet, wine-drunk and heady with this anomaly between them, but still focused on offering hawk something too.
there's an affectionate warmth in his eyes, hawk glancing down through his lashes for a moment in consideration before he reaches out to grab tim's wrist in an expert mimic of the motion he'd just slipped past - fingers flexing against the bare skin and using it to pull the fork closer, opening his mouth and taking the bite of it without much pretense or fanfare. he's not the one to put on a show, to make it an indulgence the way tim can - but his gaze is heavy, deliberate in the way he fixes it on tim and maintains eye contact the entire time. there should be no question how deep the ocean of want that roils inside him is for timothy laughlin - it's bottomless, much in the same way it remains almost wholly unexplored.
he pulls back with an absent lick of his own lips, nodding in agreement and stroking lightly up tim's arm for a brief moment before pulling back.]
Pretty damn good. Shame the other one isn't on the menu.
[it doesn't have to be forever. we could - ]
Not yet, anyway.
[there's a conspiratorial grin, hawk extending his hand for the fork again.]
no subject
this would all be a lot harder to justify if they didn't only have finals to get through. and then - on a technicality, he'll be relieved of his duties as tim's professor, instead reverting to a former acquaintance. if he was worth his salt, he'd be nothing but a reference for tim to use on his future burgeoning opportunity at a career in washington - because despite all the lines he's crossing by sitting in this very seat, watching tim suck at his thumb and groan around a fork of cake like a goddamn coquette - hawk wouldn't compromise him like that. and frankly, the sane part of him that still lives somewhere in his head wouldn't do it either.
but it's awfully hard to care when he watches that pretty pink tongue drag creamy white slow across his glistening lips, when his pulse jumps against that gentle press against his wrist. he relinquishes his grip on the fork with interest, tipping his head mildly as he wonders where tim is going with this. he's half expecting him to eat the rest in some other obscene measure, something that will have him utterly throbbing beneath his already rapidly tightening inseam - but instead tim goes and surprises him, utterly thoughtful despite this heated exchange. that's the skippy he knows - never too buried in his books to remember to be sweet, wine-drunk and heady with this anomaly between them, but still focused on offering hawk something too.
there's an affectionate warmth in his eyes, hawk glancing down through his lashes for a moment in consideration before he reaches out to grab tim's wrist in an expert mimic of the motion he'd just slipped past - fingers flexing against the bare skin and using it to pull the fork closer, opening his mouth and taking the bite of it without much pretense or fanfare. he's not the one to put on a show, to make it an indulgence the way tim can - but his gaze is heavy, deliberate in the way he fixes it on tim and maintains eye contact the entire time. there should be no question how deep the ocean of want that roils inside him is for timothy laughlin - it's bottomless, much in the same way it remains almost wholly unexplored.
he pulls back with an absent lick of his own lips, nodding in agreement and stroking lightly up tim's arm for a brief moment before pulling back.]
Pretty damn good. Shame the other one isn't on the menu.
[it doesn't have to be forever. we could - ]
Not yet, anyway.
[there's a conspiratorial grin, hawk extending his hand for the fork again.]
You want some more?