You know what else must be awfully distracting? Those goddamn shorts. Starting to look a little tight - and I know it's hot in that room of yours. You'd think Dean S. could shell out on a better wall unit for the students, huh?
[another little hint sprinkled in. if skippy doesn't get it now, he's either playing coy on purpose or he's keeping it extra safe, which hawk couldn't possibly blame him for. he's given an inch with the expectation of taking a mile - no way in hell he'd hop on a camera in this scenario, exquisite date or not. audio? probably not, even if his dick twitches at the idea of tim getting to hear the praise he deserves heaped onto him. speaking of which, he stubs out his cigarette into his ashtray and reaches down to palm himself slow and easy just the way tim is toying with the hem of his sweater.]
Take the sweater off and unbutton your shirt. Get comfortable - one less distraction for you.
I dunno about full attention - not yet, it looks like.
[a clear tease about the strain in his shorts that's still roomy enough based on his extensive experience watching tim's cock bloom to life under his coaxing words. it's not often hawk finds himself practically salivating at the idea of someone like that, let alone has the obscene desire to press his mouth against their crotch and suck them off. he hasn't thought about anything like that since -
nope. not gonna let that derail this little performance. especially since if he didn't know any better, it feels tailored specifically for him.]
Mm, I'm no expert. Sweet boy told me her story recently - something tragic, only I was too busy drinking him in and committing the moment to memory to remember all the details.
Oh, you look nice and flushed. Get moving on that sweater, and then I want you to lie down on your stomach with your homework.
But Skippy? Don't you dare think about humping the bed.
Not until I give you permission, anyway. But you gotta earn it.
no subject
[another little hint sprinkled in. if skippy doesn't get it now, he's either playing coy on purpose or he's keeping it extra safe, which hawk couldn't possibly blame him for. he's given an inch with the expectation of taking a mile - no way in hell he'd hop on a camera in this scenario, exquisite date or not. audio? probably not, even if his dick twitches at the idea of tim getting to hear the praise he deserves heaped onto him. speaking of which, he stubs out his cigarette into his ashtray and reaches down to palm himself slow and easy just the way tim is toying with the hem of his sweater.]
Take the sweater off and unbutton your shirt. Get comfortable - one less distraction for you.
I dunno about full attention - not yet, it looks like.
[a clear tease about the strain in his shorts that's still roomy enough based on his extensive experience watching tim's cock bloom to life under his coaxing words. it's not often hawk finds himself practically salivating at the idea of someone like that, let alone has the obscene desire to press his mouth against their crotch and suck them off. he hasn't thought about anything like that since -
nope. not gonna let that derail this little performance. especially since if he didn't know any better, it feels tailored specifically for him.]
Mm, I'm no expert. Sweet boy told me her story recently - something tragic, only I was too busy drinking him in and committing the moment to memory to remember all the details.
Oh, you look nice and flushed. Get moving on that sweater, and then I want you to lie down on your stomach with your homework.
But Skippy? Don't you dare think about humping the bed.
Not until I give you permission, anyway. But you gotta earn it.