[tim's final is the first one he grades out the gate - which is becoming more and more of a habit. but there's a sense of triumph to know that he's made it throughout the last year and some change without breaking his rule: and now they're both free of it. on a technicality, sure, but all those things they'd had to keep reserved for fantasies and the future could be a reality now. to say hawk thinks feverishly about that night across candlelight and under the stars, filled with so much of what could be before he'd succumbed to his baser instincts and cracked under the desire to taste and feel and have tim - that doesn't even seem to come close to what it really is. everything he's forced himself to bury since december has come to a boil, barely contained under the surface. his dreams are both blissfully and torturously plagued by the feeling of tim's succulent lips - replaying the way they felt against his mouth and his body was firm and solid and everything he'd love to pull apart underneath sure hands.
it's no surprise he's had to spend many a morning jacking off or under a cold shower - greeting the day with morning wood and an empty bed that he's practically counting down to having filled. eventually. soon.
the semester draws to close with neither a bang nor a whimper, and hawk feels somewhat of a sinking in his gut when he realizes tim hasn't burst through his door or found some other way to reach out for their - dare he say it, happily ever after. maybe he's got cold feet. maybe he's realized the amount of obligations it's still going to take to make this a reality for another semester, until graduation and even beyond. but the answer comes in the form of an email from tim himself, hawk's blood rushing straight to his ears as he clicks to open it knowing nothing his boy is too smart to send anything untoward with their school emails still attached.
the good news: he'll still be seeing a lot of tim next semester.
the bad news: it won't be exactly the sort of tim he was hoping to get to finally see.
not that he's complaining, and there's something to be said for edging himself for another semester in close quarters entirely with his prized student. there was a certain melancholy that hadn't settled in at the knowledge that his classroom would be a little quieter, a whole lot less intelligent when it started up again in the fall. but this? this all but ensures his own stimulation and energy when it comes to teaching will be fulfilled - quite literally, his cup might runneth over. a full syllabus customized to the advanced level and precision a student like tim needs, and it'll look fucking spectacular on his resume to boot when it comes time to argue his case for an internship in dc.
still. it's the equivalent of balls that are bordering on the kind of crisp blue only found in the arctic. christ.
of course hawk accepts, polite and complimentary with only a few minor adjustments to his proposal. but it's the footnote that catches his eye, and after the last few days of coy back and forth, no real direction - it feels like he's a man in the desert with the promise of water and an oasis dead ahead. no mirage, no need to hide it anymore. two can play at this game, after all. not that he's going to compromise everything he's worked at so far, nor is he going to give tim the satisfaction of letting it be obvious right away. he knows he's being baited, and a part of him is immediately twitching behind his fly at the thought of tim dangling his own power over hawk here, drawing him in like a moth to the pretty flame.
the account he'd used to send the money for tim's summer class is still active, even if it's been idle ever since. but he logs in thinking about the hint of "work" and wonders what he's been missing. maybe he can just pay for an old one, or a few photos to keep as a personal spank bank through the next fifteen weeks.
instead, he gets something so blatant it makes his mouth run dry: tim, ever the perfect little student in a uniform that looks ripped from the pages of some rigid boarding school or private catholic institution. it hugs him in all the right places, youthful despite the obvious work put into his muscles that hawk has only had the briefest hint of lately. fuck. he looks good. he'd look even better if his face were in the picture - he can just picture the pout, the way he'd tongue the eraser or put the pencil over pursed lips.
before he can even think about it, closes out of all his actual work for the day, leaving only the browser with tim's livestream open. he thinks about it for a moment, bypassing the rest of the chat and sending over the amount for a private session. if he's gonna do this - he might as well go big since he's already home.]
no subject
it's no surprise he's had to spend many a morning jacking off or under a cold shower - greeting the day with morning wood and an empty bed that he's practically counting down to having filled. eventually. soon.
the semester draws to close with neither a bang nor a whimper, and hawk feels somewhat of a sinking in his gut when he realizes tim hasn't burst through his door or found some other way to reach out for their - dare he say it, happily ever after. maybe he's got cold feet. maybe he's realized the amount of obligations it's still going to take to make this a reality for another semester, until graduation and even beyond. but the answer comes in the form of an email from tim himself, hawk's blood rushing straight to his ears as he clicks to open it knowing nothing his boy is too smart to send anything untoward with their school emails still attached.
the good news: he'll still be seeing a lot of tim next semester.
the bad news: it won't be exactly the sort of tim he was hoping to get to finally see.
not that he's complaining, and there's something to be said for edging himself for another semester in close quarters entirely with his prized student. there was a certain melancholy that hadn't settled in at the knowledge that his classroom would be a little quieter, a whole lot less intelligent when it started up again in the fall. but this? this all but ensures his own stimulation and energy when it comes to teaching will be fulfilled - quite literally, his cup might runneth over. a full syllabus customized to the advanced level and precision a student like tim needs, and it'll look fucking spectacular on his resume to boot when it comes time to argue his case for an internship in dc.
still. it's the equivalent of balls that are bordering on the kind of crisp blue only found in the arctic. christ.
of course hawk accepts, polite and complimentary with only a few minor adjustments to his proposal. but it's the footnote that catches his eye, and after the last few days of coy back and forth, no real direction - it feels like he's a man in the desert with the promise of water and an oasis dead ahead. no mirage, no need to hide it anymore. two can play at this game, after all. not that he's going to compromise everything he's worked at so far, nor is he going to give tim the satisfaction of letting it be obvious right away. he knows he's being baited, and a part of him is immediately twitching behind his fly at the thought of tim dangling his own power over hawk here, drawing him in like a moth to the pretty flame.
the account he'd used to send the money for tim's summer class is still active, even if it's been idle ever since. but he logs in thinking about the hint of "work" and wonders what he's been missing. maybe he can just pay for an old one, or a few photos to keep as a personal spank bank through the next fifteen weeks.
instead, he gets something so blatant it makes his mouth run dry: tim, ever the perfect little student in a uniform that looks ripped from the pages of some rigid boarding school or private catholic institution. it hugs him in all the right places, youthful despite the obvious work put into his muscles that hawk has only had the briefest hint of lately. fuck. he looks good. he'd look even better if his face were in the picture - he can just picture the pout, the way he'd tongue the eraser or put the pencil over pursed lips.
before he can even think about it, closes out of all his actual work for the day, leaving only the browser with tim's livestream open. he thinks about it for a moment, bypassing the rest of the chat and sending over the amount for a private session. if he's gonna do this - he might as well go big since he's already home.]
Math's not my forte, but I think I can help.
You wanna play hot for teacher?