[it's obvious - just like the way it's obvious hawk desperately wants more, more, more from his boy, his own trousers practically a vice trapping him down where he wishes he might guide tim's hand to feel even more tangible proof of how much he's wanted, or christ, even take that hand at his nape and slowly help him lower to feel the way plush lips feel hot around his mouth as he sinks down on his cock. it makes his kisses that much hungrier, lips nipping in between panted breaths and noises that are much too intimate for a mere makeout. all of this holds an intensity hawk doesn't think he's ever been struck by - not even kenny, back when it was young love and felt like his whole world. there's something utterly contradictory in the way that being with tim feels both utterly grounded and as if he might float away at any moment with the whelm of desire and being desired by someone so genuine and rooted in his emotions.
there's a hard exhale against his mouth as tim pulls away, hawk pressing another open-mouthed kiss against the corner of his mouth before glancing over at him and letting the reality of his choice fully sink in. his heart feels as if it pounds all the way up to his ears, a dull roar of white noise rushing as he watching tim's tongue slip out to lick at his thumb and kiss lightly against his palm, his wrist. it's so tender it almost makes his heart wrench at the innocence of it, undercut only by the dull throb between his legs that he wishes he could alleviate the pressure off of and relieve for tim too, because a quick glance down confirms it's mutual. hawk hums with encouragement, leaning in to nuzzle against tim's cheek with his nose and let his lips trail absent, feathery kisses against his skin wherever they may land.]
Shit. I want you too, Christ almighty.
[he nearly dives forward to take his mouth in another kiss, if only to keep himself from saying anything that he can't walk back, and from making another mistake in escalating the tension and the sheer desperation he feels of need. but tim's palm is warm and firm and guides him back rather than closer - distance widening in a way that pulls him out of his own haze that's a different kind of drunkness than the wine flushing tim's cheeks.
ah. fuck.
how can he do anything but laugh and shake his head lightly?]
Jesus. You're right. Much as I'd like to, I'm not breaking that one rule. I can't, and you're a good boy for reminding me.
[there's a shiver when tim's fingers trace against his earlobe, further igniting the roiling burst of heat that feels like it's under his skin. he's surprisingly sensitive there, something to hold onto for another time. another night when they can do this properly - without guilt, without worrying tim might change his mind from too much wine, and without being crammed into his car miles away from a warm bed.
hawk lets both hands rest against his cheek again, smiling softly with a wistful gratitude in his eyes - because he's supposed to be the more sensible adult here, and instead tim is the one saving him from making a mistake that could fuck them both up irreparably. he leans forward - not for another kiss to his lips, but a soft promise planted against his forehead for enough of a moment that he can commit it to memory, to instill a vow.]
One day, yeah. We will, Skip - promise.
[hawk wants to imagine it could be every day, really. it's torture to pull away, but he does it and tries to let it feel authentic to let wryness work its way back into his tone as he straightens out tim's collar, patting him on the shoulder and shifting back into his seat.]
no subject
there's a hard exhale against his mouth as tim pulls away, hawk pressing another open-mouthed kiss against the corner of his mouth before glancing over at him and letting the reality of his choice fully sink in. his heart feels as if it pounds all the way up to his ears, a dull roar of white noise rushing as he watching tim's tongue slip out to lick at his thumb and kiss lightly against his palm, his wrist. it's so tender it almost makes his heart wrench at the innocence of it, undercut only by the dull throb between his legs that he wishes he could alleviate the pressure off of and relieve for tim too, because a quick glance down confirms it's mutual. hawk hums with encouragement, leaning in to nuzzle against tim's cheek with his nose and let his lips trail absent, feathery kisses against his skin wherever they may land.]
Shit. I want you too, Christ almighty.
[he nearly dives forward to take his mouth in another kiss, if only to keep himself from saying anything that he can't walk back, and from making another mistake in escalating the tension and the sheer desperation he feels of need. but tim's palm is warm and firm and guides him back rather than closer - distance widening in a way that pulls him out of his own haze that's a different kind of drunkness than the wine flushing tim's cheeks.
ah. fuck.
how can he do anything but laugh and shake his head lightly?]
Jesus. You're right. Much as I'd like to, I'm not breaking that one rule. I can't, and you're a good boy for reminding me.
[there's a shiver when tim's fingers trace against his earlobe, further igniting the roiling burst of heat that feels like it's under his skin. he's surprisingly sensitive there, something to hold onto for another time. another night when they can do this properly - without guilt, without worrying tim might change his mind from too much wine, and without being crammed into his car miles away from a warm bed.
hawk lets both hands rest against his cheek again, smiling softly with a wistful gratitude in his eyes - because he's supposed to be the more sensible adult here, and instead tim is the one saving him from making a mistake that could fuck them both up irreparably. he leans forward - not for another kiss to his lips, but a soft promise planted against his forehead for enough of a moment that he can commit it to memory, to instill a vow.]
One day, yeah. We will, Skip - promise.
[hawk wants to imagine it could be every day, really. it's torture to pull away, but he does it and tries to let it feel authentic to let wryness work its way back into his tone as he straightens out tim's collar, patting him on the shoulder and shifting back into his seat.]
Let's get back to campus.