[UNI AU]

[homosexuals]

CAMBOY UNI AU

tell me and i forget, teach me and i remember.

Comments

[homosexuals]

[what should he do? he should tell hawk this is too far. he should ask him to stop, coax him into remembering all the reasons why he's held off so long in the first place. he should sit up straighter and pull away from the heat of hawk's hands, collect his things, unlock the door and not come back until their tie has officially been severed. and he absolutely should not let hawk hear the real timothy laughlin in the hitch of his breath, the deep note of want in his voice that isn't the skippy he's been spending hours during the nights listening to and pretending would be a decent substitute for hearing it in the flesh. now that he's heard the real thing, how could he ever go back to anything else? how could he stop himself from wanting more? for a moment, even though he's clearly thinking with one head over another (and it certainly isn't the one on his shoulders) - the idea that none of it fucking matters anyway for badly he wants tim and would give this office, this salary and this opportunity up for more clouds him wholeheartedly.

there's a heavy inhale as hawk lets his nose drag almost imperceptibly along tim's hair, smelling the mixture of his shampoo and the unmistakeable bite of fall air against it. his hand tightens over tim's wrist, slipping down to splay across the back of his palm and form over where he has it clutching at the bulge under his unzipped fly with a light squeeze and uttering an absently mindless grunt for the weight of it he isn't directly touching, enticing him almost agonizingly.]

Don't you dare turn around, you hear? You stay where you are, you look at your paper and you keep looking over - the parts that aren't perfect.

[there's a harsh breath against the shell of his ear, hawk's fingers tightening at the back of the chair as his lips brush like butterfly flutters against the skin with the last vestiges of his restraint. his tone is low, gruff - so close to losing control. heady with the obvious want that tim must know, the kind that weakens him for how close to snapping altogether he is.]

You want a good grade...take yourself out. [hawk waits for him to comply, practically salivating at the way he wishes he could see every inch of the body he's studied in an extremely subpar approximation of 4d.]

I'm not grading on what you've written. I'm grading on your concentration tonight. I'm grading on how well you take my orders, you got that, Skippy?

[his own face angles, tipping in to nose along his jaw and up his cheek bone with the side of his nose.]

Yes or no. Tell me, right now.

[tell me you want this. tell me it's okay.]

[apologetics]

I won't turn around.

[ the heat of hawk at his back, the weight of him there makes his skin alight with fire. makes his whole body come to life in a new way that leaves him stricken and wanting in a way he's never felt before. the cameras can't do anything on this - the internet sessions and the voice calls - nothing can hold a candle to it. hawk's lips ghost his skin and he sighs, his hips shifting just so.

he squeezes himself beneath his jeans, lets out a little, quiet moan when he feels hawk's hand palm over his, squeeze in tandem. what would it be to feel his hand directly? to have hawk devour him here just as he's told he would do night after night after night. but just like their sessions he does as he's told - ever the obedient boy, but even more so for this man that has completely captured him. he slowly moves his fingers, draws out the aching line of his prick past the underwear, the zipper, the denim. the cool air makes him hiss softly. ]

Like this, sir?

[ but god another order, another clarification, and the sweet drag of hawk's nose along his jaw, his cheek - he wants to be kissed so bad. remembers how it feels to have his arms around him, to taste hawk on his tongue, to sit across his lap and want. ]

Yes. Yes, I understand. Yes, please. I -

[ he bites his lip hard, trying to contain himself, trying to be the picture perfect boy. he doesn't want to be cast away now. not for the paper. not for saying the wrong thing again, not for his body, any of it. ]

Yes, Hawk.

[homosexuals]

[seeing him like this and refusing to touch - at least anything other than indirectly - is like a fucking gutpunch. hawk hasn't gotten on his knees for anyone since he was a little less than tim's age, and he's never wanted to until this moment. not until the pretty pink flare of his cock gets exposed to the warm light of his office, thick and mouth-wateringly perfect. it's not like he hasn't seen it before, but he hasn't seen the precise shade or the shape of it intimately enough to really make him ache. his own pulses in an angry throb of want under his trousers, behind his boxers that have tightened past uncomfortable even as he resolutely tries to ignore it in favor of acting this out on tim and tim alone.]

Yeah. Just like that.

[hawk wants to kiss him equally badly, but he won't give in to it much like he won't give in to his own needs right now. instead, he shifts his hand across tim's to guide it in a loose grip around the base of his pretty cock, lifting his fingers in the approximation of a light stroke to the tip and back down again.]

Good boy.

[it's whispered against him, rough and ragged despite the initial ease of his pace.]

It's yes, sir or yes, professor right now - understood?

[there's a low hum, hawk pressing his chin against tim's shoulder and letting his cheek tip against tim's too - soft skin against one another so he can get a better view at what he's making his student do for him in unspoken commands.]

You get what I give you, if you want to do well. And - don't even think about finishing until it's time.

[another light stroke, hawk shifting tim's fingers in a twist of his palm up at the tip in a lazy moment of indulgence.]

[apologetics]

[ good boy said out loud and warm against his near makes tim moan unexpectedly, his head tipping back as his bites his lip to prevent the sound from getting too loud. it's nothing of the played at, wanton sounds he makes for the tippers in his chats, and even more raw than those hawk coaxed out of him in their private sessions.

he nods his head a little, eyes fluttering as the man's broad hand guides his own over his hardening cock. ]

Yes, sir.

[ hawk's weight at his back and side, the tip of their cheeks to touching is enough to make him begin to flush, his face burning hot, the color creeping down his neck past the collar of his sweater. the squeeze of their joined hands around the tip of his cock makes him hum quiet and needy. the muscles of his thighs jump visibly, resisting the urge to thrust into the press of their hands. ]

Yes, professor. I want to do well - I'll do whatever you tell me to do, professor. I want to be your good boy.

[ tim's voice has turned into a wavering, airy little thing - not the practiced purr of the student on the other side of the screen but the genuine stripping back of walls, the raw nerve of his desire exposed. ]

Please, professor.

[ he doesn't know what he's asking for, his mind blank and bursting with stars at the touches. ]