[god, it takes every shred of willpower not to focus on the way tim looks with a flush of inebriation - to try and force himself to listen to his tragic tale, to learn something that isn't the way his eyes look like honey under a twinkling sky or his lips glisten enticingly with every word uttered. the only quiz he's interested in is the kind that requires a hands-on approach: the precise measurement of tim's body slotted against his own, the press of his hip and how it might feel if it were turned to fit precisely on top of his front in a tangle of limbs. he feels like a fucking teenager ready to lose himself - one wrong word or move away from just fucking snapping and dragging tim to the car, driving him somewhere quiet and otherwise forgotten except for poseidon and whoever else wanted to fucking see real beauty still walking the earth.
but tim's definitely tipsy enough to think twice - even if there wasn't the matter of finals next week and the end of another semester to contend with. even if he doesn't question the idea that tim wouldn't turn him down and that it's nowhere near the same as watching him stumble into his office after getting drugged by some creep - it wouldn't sit well with him to let their first time be something cramped and desperate that has room for error and regret. tim deserves more than that - to have that impossibly toned body laid out and worshipped from head to toe. the thought clouds over rational thought enough that he barely catches the last part - the compliment, the sweetness that's too genuine to be considered flattery he can brush off.
hawk laughs lightly, shaking his head in protest.]
Well, I was about to say maybe you need to get out more - but it's a little hard to go visit -
[he waves his hand with a twist of his wrist, as if to say he won't even bother trying to pronounce cassiopeia and embarrass himself.]
Everything I need to know is up here. I couldn't forget anything about a night like tonight.
[he taps at his temple, glancing down at tim's lips like a fucking pavlovian response when he has the audacity to mention them directly and torture hawk. he doesn't think his boy is sly enough to have done it intentionally, but it's enough to distract him from the witty response on the tip of his tongue as tim darts forward unexpectedly and presses an utterly sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of his mouth. and there comes the final lesson: how ridiculously soft his lips are, how the wine smells mingled with his breath as he drags away with the little brush of his nose.
he should ignore it - should just smile and escort him over to the car that's just up the street, in easy view. so fucking close and yet so far.
except, hawk does neither of those things. no, he takes a beat to look at the way tim's expression is torn between wonder at his own courage in the moment and the fear of having crossed a line they've both been skirting since december. instead, he presses both hands to tim's cheeks and cups them, trying to force his gaze up by the abruptness of it, to make sure he sees it coming and can try and stop him moments before he surges forward and seals his lips against him in a heated kiss that's well overdue. christ, how long has he been dreaming of this?]
no subject
but tim's definitely tipsy enough to think twice - even if there wasn't the matter of finals next week and the end of another semester to contend with. even if he doesn't question the idea that tim wouldn't turn him down and that it's nowhere near the same as watching him stumble into his office after getting drugged by some creep - it wouldn't sit well with him to let their first time be something cramped and desperate that has room for error and regret. tim deserves more than that - to have that impossibly toned body laid out and worshipped from head to toe. the thought clouds over rational thought enough that he barely catches the last part - the compliment, the sweetness that's too genuine to be considered flattery he can brush off.
hawk laughs lightly, shaking his head in protest.]
Well, I was about to say maybe you need to get out more - but it's a little hard to go visit -
[he waves his hand with a twist of his wrist, as if to say he won't even bother trying to pronounce cassiopeia and embarrass himself.]
Everything I need to know is up here. I couldn't forget anything about a night like tonight.
[he taps at his temple, glancing down at tim's lips like a fucking pavlovian response when he has the audacity to mention them directly and torture hawk. he doesn't think his boy is sly enough to have done it intentionally, but it's enough to distract him from the witty response on the tip of his tongue as tim darts forward unexpectedly and presses an utterly sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of his mouth. and there comes the final lesson: how ridiculously soft his lips are, how the wine smells mingled with his breath as he drags away with the little brush of his nose.
he should ignore it - should just smile and escort him over to the car that's just up the street, in easy view. so fucking close and yet so far.
except, hawk does neither of those things. no, he takes a beat to look at the way tim's expression is torn between wonder at his own courage in the moment and the fear of having crossed a line they've both been skirting since december. instead, he presses both hands to tim's cheeks and cups them, trying to force his gaze up by the abruptness of it, to make sure he sees it coming and can try and stop him moments before he surges forward and seals his lips against him in a heated kiss that's well overdue. christ, how long has he been dreaming of this?]