[UNI AU]

[homosexuals]

CAMBOY UNI AU

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

Comments

[homosexuals]

[there it is - the thing he's been avoiding ever since his lapses in judgment when it came to tim laughlin started drawing further and further stretched out. this here is maybe the most dangerous thing he's ever done in his five years with georgetown. the kicker is it's also the most intoxicating - and what he feels for tim isn't anything a warm body and nameless somebody at a bar has even remotely come close to filling for him. but the idea of tim no longer being his direct student (a semantic, really, seeing as he'd still be a student and off limits by technicality) has weighed on him heavier and heavier with each passing flirtation, every bit of banter and even the way a few teachers have taken to playing delighted audience at how well they verbally spar with each other. sometimes that little office feels more welcoming and filled with all the warmth that tim emanates in a way that screams home, his expensive walk-up not even coming close.

what happens after graduation? it's a possibility he's refused to let himself consider out of fear and obligation - fear that his darling icarus won't get struck down by the sun, he'll shoot so far past it that he'll land somewhere in the stars, adored by everyone and everything he touches. obligation to some conduct a teacher should be exhibiting in not fucking his students - definitely current and probably not former. his tenure had been the most important thing on his radar before last december ground it all to a halt, and while hawk is fully capable of playing his cards right and keeping them close enough to the chest to hide it...it's still a risk no matter how he looks at it.

but that's not what he's looking at right now: tim, a study in the beautiful light of the golden hour, flushed from the heat or the wine or the feelings that this stolen moment has stirred in both of them. whatever happens after they leave the safety of this little table or set foot back on campus - this will have changed them, altered their bond and heightened their infatuation unquestionably. how the hell do you put back pandora's box?

on some level, hawk knew when he did this - spur of the moment or not - that there was no going back. the stakes would only keep raising; the rewards and things that would satisfy would only grow interminably.

it fucking scares him to think there is no mere sliver of his heart that is clutched between tim's hands - it's a significant chunk that same day he stepped past the threshold and hurriedly rushed to the back. the memory of it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile, head tipping back with a soft laugh.]

Didn't stay in the back for long though. Just as well, seeing as you're one of the only ones who could keep up with my lessons. Then and now.

[the empty wine glass is a welcome distraction, and hawk doesn't even think before he picks up the bottle with one hand, twisting it with his wrist to give tim another generous pour and otherwise forgetting that he probably has a low tolerance. it's coming with dinner, even if their appetizers are sitting largely ignored while his fingers lightly run along the underside of tim's palm for a moment in lieu of answer - committing to anything, really.]

We are. On a date.

Listen, Skippy I -

[god, whatever bullshit he was going to say utterly dies in this throat, expression equally and helplessly endeared to the way tim is so open and honest even with his feelings and the look on his face here. christ, how can he give that up? not even taste the forbidden fruit just once in its flesh? fuck.]

I do know that. And believe me, I think about it. All the time.

[he meets tim at a level gaze, eyes bright with a hunger that's not for the feast of seafood or italian spread out in front of them.]

Ever since Christmas - I've played the "what if" game. I don't regret the way it's happened now. Getting to know you like I have...you're right. It is more than just the classes and the office hours and the debates.

[there's an inexplicable lump in his throat he swallows hard around, shaking his head to break the trance momentarily and reach for his wine too.]

It's you I can't stop thinking about. It's you I wanna see at the end of a long day. It's you I wish I was coming home to, curled up in my bed.

I don't know what that means for us after the semester right now.

[it's a bit of a delayed realization that it could sound like a rejection, so hastily he leans in and adds in a lower voice:]

Listen - I'm not writing anything off between us. We'll figure it out - alright? But first we have to get you through summer exams.

[hawk softens again, knowing he shouldn’t - but lifting tim’s hand to graze his lips against the back of his knuckles softly.]

I just wanna do right by my boy.

[apologetics]

[ there's something that will haunt tim about the way hawk admits he's been thinking about him for months and months now. it makes him burn a little hot now as it is, makes something roil in his belly uncomfortably, but pleasantly. he is wanted and desired by a man he also wants and desires in a way he's never experienced before. ]

It could be that. One day. If - If you want.

[ tim waiting for him, curled up in his bed after a long day. for a brief moment he allows himself to imagine the life that they might have after he graduates. the apartment he only hazily remembers, warm strong arms, the scent of his aftershave... and the way hawkins fuller is looking at him now - soft and open. whatever happens, he wants to feel as loved as he does right now, for the rest of time.

it all seems like a fairy tale really, the impossible come true.

but there it is - i don't know what that means for us. of course. it's not a rejection, and tim tries to gently remind himself it's being practical, realistic. the reality of their situation is that they can't date like this in the open, they can't do anything more than this simply due to the nature of their meeting. ]

But - right, yes. Sorry, I guess... I've been told I have a way of coming on strong.

[ because timothy laughlin can do nothing in half measures, and even falling in love means he is head first, all in. if that's what this is, anyway. but it feels like something stronger than he's ever felt, and the mere idea that there's the possibility that whatever this is could end in them apart, or separate, or anything not what they're sharing now?

it feels impossible.

but there goes his hand, hawk's lips brushing the back of it and he can't help the soft little gasp that passes by his lips - it's quiet, almost more a soft breath than anything, but his eyes widen, his face burns miserably. ]

You are. You really, really are. I... I know this is all complicated. So complicated. But I'll fly through the exams and it's just one more year. I - I want to do right by you, too. But everything will be easier after graduation. But -

[ he gives hawk's hand a squeeze, eyes falling to where the lips fell against his skin, where it feels like it's utterly burning. ]

I don't have any expectations. I know that... we have to figure things out. If you want to. I just - I don't mind what it is, so long as I can see you.

[ in the future, he'll look back at this and be furious with himself. but for now? he can't help but get wrapped up in the slow, creeping heat of attraction, nerves, and the wine. the wine that hawk refilled.

he absently takes another sip. ]

I hope that's alright.

[homosexuals]

[none of this is right - all the secrets, the admissions that are spilling out of him as easily as the elegant pour of sweet red right into tim's glass. they should stay buried and locked away, something for him to fantasize over in moments of weakness (and loneliness) while he rides out the rest of his time until tenure on iron willpower and long distance one-night stands. and yet here sits timothy laughlin in front of him - maybe the most earnest, genuine man he's ever known with secrets buried just as deep and no less alluring for it. the boy that's managed to break through every rule, every barricade, every method of protection against his integrity and all his fears combined with a sweet smile and maybe the first person in the history of dc not to have an ulterior motive. there should be a cacophony of alarm bells ringing in his head, anything to tell him to cut this off before he gets in too deep.

(shit, it's too late for that now, isn't it?)

hawk has fallen hard and not even really fast - the slow tension churning since december through a whirlwind of coaxing, trust, and genuine pleasure getting to know his student on an impossibly deeper level. no one has captivated him like this with their values, their intrinsic way of being so goddamn good despite all the bad around them. despite hawk being easily lead astray, judgment clouded by an intimacy that transcends the physical - not that he'd pass up the opportunity on that given the obvious attraction that brought them here in the first place. so yeah, maybe his fantasies alternate between the "one day" tim talks about: thinking about him barefoot and padding through the kitchen in only hawk's button down, smiling into his shoulder every morning when he wakes up, gripping his thigh or holding his hand in the car on the way to a date just like this.

just like this, except without any rules and restraints. one day.]

Yeah, it's complicated.

[he nods in agreement, only for it to turn into a subtle shake of his head like it doesn't even fucking matter to him right now.]

I don't think I'm about to make it any less complicated by telling you this - but I don't think I can go a whole semester without seeing you anymore.

[he exhales like he's just breathed out a confession, and in a way he has - not coming on as strong as tim, but revealing just enough of his own desires that simply can't be ignored by virtue of their intensity now.]

It would be better for us both to wait for graduation, sure.

[hawk's eyes bore into tim's, head tilting and hand squeezing as if it might fully say what's between the lines. it would be better, but i can't wait anymore.]

But it is alright.

[his lips curve up into a slightly more mischievous smile, eyes twinkling as he raises his own almost drained glass in mock salute.]

You may not have expectations...but I have plenty.

[there's something low and promising in that, a heat under his own skin that he hopes tim feels too when his thumb shifts inward, slowly dragging up along the delicate veins and soft pulsepoint for a few electric moments.]

Think we might want to consider eating - at least one bit of hunger we can sate tonight.

[his free hand gestures to the otherwise ignored appetizers and menus that have yet to be collected. but his eyes don't leave that pretty flush on tim's skin, nor do they stop from dropping to his lips briefly and back up again.]

[apologetics]

I won't tell anyone.

[ it comes out before he can help himself, the wine making him a little hazy now that it has hit his otherwise empty stomach. he's encouraged by the press of a thumb against his wrist and tim's mouth runs dry, his heart pumps a little faster, and the want he feels is suddenly so stark and so real, it reminds him of the way they'd been leaned over one another weeks ago in hawk's office.

his fingers flex, sliding against hawk's palm to the cuff of his sleeve, catching under it. ]

I don't think I can go two weeks again like that without seeing you, honestly. But I'll wait - I'll do whatever you tell me.

[ because getting even this - the affection and what feels like honest attention - it makes tim bloom with heat, with desire, with hope. he's sharing dinner with a man who is caring, loving, kind, intelligent...

one day his future may just be more of this. or at a shared table in a condo, in an apartment, something that's theirs. or he'd like it to be. they can be more than just this delicate balance of teacher and student. graduation will come, tim will find some job, and then they will simply be two working professionals.

it's a beautiful dream.

his expression lights up, burns hot and pink, when hawk speaks. i have plenty. it makes him wonder just what the car ride home might be. will they hold hands like now? will his hands be allowed to roam, will he be able to sing to the radio or roll the windows down and keep a hand on the man's thigh?

right.

food. dinner. ]

O-oh. Right. Don't want the dinner to get cold.

[ and he regretfully pulls his hand from hawk's, letting his fingers drag over his skin until he pauses, finger tip to finger tip. but it's impossible to ignore the way hawk looks from his mouth and up, and the way that tim's do the same. what would he do if he leaned over now and kissed him. instead, he plucks at hawk's hand, drawing it up, leaning over just enough that he presses his lips against his knuckles once, and then, briefly? where no one may see the soft pass of his lips? the pad of his thumb.

he releases it then and grabs his wine glass, sipping from it before he starts in again on the appetizer.

it's a miracle he's even able to spit his order out when the waiter comes to take their entree orders and collect their menus, for even tim feels the heat of his boldness as he speaks. when she leaves, his eyes flicker back to hawk. ]

Thank you for bringing me here. With you.

[homosexuals]

[i'll do whatever you tell me sends a rush of blood where it absolutely shouldn't be going right now, and it's hard not to think of all those nights propped up at his desk doing exactly that with "skippy", watching him bend every which way and comply with each of his orders to simple perfection. the thought of doing some of those in person, no distance between them, where he might watch pleasure contort across every smooth angle of tim's face for his leisurely perusal...that's more intoxicating than any wine or malted liquor could ever inspire. it makes him think of the car ride too when he watches the pretty blush that seems reluctant to fade from tim's cheeks - it only hits him just now that he's been making generous pours when the boy is a self-confessed non-frequent drinker. and it means something more than just the endearing realization that he's probably getting tipsy off the energy between them and the wine and the rich italian food they're sharing - it means he trusts hawk to let himself get loose and honest and so goddamn earnest.

it's hard not to feel his chest tighten with abject affection at that. hard not to consider how difficult navigating the ride home is going to be when hawk is already reaching his limit of self-restraint at patience when all he wants to do is lean over and plant one on him, to taste how much better this wine is straight from rosy lips and breathe in the familiar scent of him that had lingered on his pillows and sheets, haunting him for weeks after tim left. god. it'll be in his car now, surely adding pep to his step when gets on campus after letting it linger in the mornings among coffee and a cigarette. it'll be there waiting for him in the parking lot, almost like he can pretend tim is at home doing just the same.

fuck. when did he let himself get into it this bad?]

Thank you for coming. With me.

[the moment dies down just a bit when tim finally pulls his hand back, and hawk thinks that'll be the end of it for now - until those soft lips mimic his earlier motion with a sweet kiss to his lips and then, impossibly, another lick of heat when they graze his thumb. he'd be stupefied if there was a kitten lick to accompany it, and thank fuck there isn't, because he's not sure he wouldn't immediately find himself at half mast. the surprise is evident in the way his brows shoot up for a moment, lips parting before he grins and recovers easily, turning and ordering his own meal with a smooth little interaction with the waiter.

the rest of the meal is rewarding in its own way - learning more about tim's aspirations as if they haven't covered it dozens of times already, yet still always revealing a glimmering pearl of something new that hawk wants to covet for himself. he opens up about his own time at georgetown nearly a decade ago, even an anecdote about craig shitfaced and doing the walk of shame across fraternity grounds to the star spangled banner on veterans day after a hookup gone wrong that made the rounds for weeks after.

the sun has long since set, the warmth now flickering across tim's honeyed gaze from the candles lit at their table and the romantic atmosphere only ticking up a notch. he finds himself sneaking glances as tim eats his meal here and there - to watch his lips wrap around a fork, to savor the flavor of something particularly rich, to offer a twinkling little glance of affection the few times he catches hawk do it.

it's a shame it has to come to an end. but hawk swirls the remnants of his final glass of wine, draining its contents in one elegant swallow before flagging down the waiter again.]

We'd be kicking ourselves if we didn't at least try dessert. Could you bring the menu when you've got a sec? Thanks, boss.

[it's an excuse to drag this out a little longer, and an utterly transparent one at that. if anything he looks a tiny bit sheepish when he shrugs at tim.]

This is going to beat anything in my snack drawer, by the way.

[an idea strikes him, and once it takes niggling hold at the root of his thoughts, there is no avoiding it. there's an amused glint in his eye, and he leans forward conspiratorially.]

How about we split something? Thoughts on strawberry cassata cake?

[apologetics]

[ tim could never say no to a man like hawkins fuller, especially not now. even though they're not touching and instead spend the next while eating and talking, it's easy to lose track of time. the sun outside dies down to dark, the stars start peeking out in the dusk, and their conversation keeps him engaged to the point he doesn't even fully acknowledge the food he's eating.

he's sure it's a delicious meal - hawk wouldn't go for anything less - and yet he finds himself dazzled by the man across from him. he looks earnestly into the ice blue of his eyes, memorizes the way he smiles or the way he says his name. he learns about the man's time at georgetown, his younger days, craig. and in turn tim tells hawk about his journey to georgetown, some of his own wild little stints with friends thus far, but there aren't many stories like that. it all turns to the future instead.

he's just finished taking another sip of his (what, second?) glass of wine when the evening begins to wind down. this is the part with the checks, goodbyes, the drive back. everything he's dreading. ]

Dessert?

[ he huffs a little and dumbly reaches for his glass of milk, mostly drained and a replacement brought out when the waiter brings with him the dessert menu. more time purchased by way of cake and sweets. tim's smile brightens a little and he leans forward on the table with both elbows, chin perched atop the back of one wrist, hands folded to one side. ]

I don't know - the snack drawer has been pretty incredible. It's like the lady at the front desk knows me or something like that.

[ there's a playful wrinkle of his nose, and it's evident in the way he says it he knows exactly who stocks that snack drawer now. he scoots forward a little in his seat when hawk leans in, his own brows raising over the dark rims of his glasses. his face flushes again. ]

I don't know what that is, but I like strawberries. And I like you well enough so I guess we can split it.

[ there's a little smile, a shrug of a shoulder. the waiter comes back with the menus and confidently tim shakes his head, holding a polite hand up. ]

Sorry, I think we've already decided. Seems someone knows the menu well here. [ he grins. ] Strawberry cassata cake - just one, please. Two forks, though, if you don't mind? Thank you.

[ and there's a nod of understanding from the waiter and he's off again. tim's heart couldn't feel fuller. ]

This has been really wonderful, Hawk.

[homosexuals]

[yeah, the food hasn't exactly been the highlight he's focusing on here either, even if it is the top notch meal he'd brought time here to celebrate over. christ, he's even forgotten that's what they were here for in the first place - celebrating his win over craig, because it's all too easy to just melt into what he wishes this was at its core. what it is, even if they have to pretend it's not. to focus instead on everything else - every facet of tim's face in a new light - the way he chews as thoughtfully as his face shifts before spitting out some of the most complicated labor law policies, the excitement in his eyes that seems to only grow brighter with each sip of wine, the heavenly glow on his skin and the beautiful flush on his cheeks that deepens with the nighttime warmth of the atmosphere - it's even more rewarding than the steak that's sizzled to perfection placed before him, or the own flutter of warmth he feels in his chest with each additional sip of wine.

it's why he wants to draw it out just a little longer. that, and to avoid the insurmountable desire to just fucking kiss the boy - and the thought of being in close quarters after such an intimate few hours is almost too much to bear. he's already caved and done the most irresponsible possible thing multiple times: meeting skippy after christmas, letting a drugged tim crash at his home, and now - a dinner date with his top student before he's even out of his class. there's just one last line that he cannot and will not be able to justify by any means, trying steadfastly to refuse its persistent gnawing at the base of his skull where he imagines his baser instincts all lie screaming at him to let go. but then again, what would he know? he's a polisci teacher, not in biology. maybe all the bloodflow really is controlled by his dick, which is also a very possible thing.

his legs shift under the table again when tim leans in, pointed toes of his oxfords knocking against his date's with intention and a grin that plays like he's sheepishly been caught.]

Was wondering when you'd figure that out. It didn't start that way, but you're as regular a fixture in there as my favorite chair so it only seemed right.

[after he'd managed to turn tim's despair around after christmas and figured out how far he was going to save pennies for lunch, that's when it started, even if he'll probably never admit it.

he nods when the waiter takes tim's order, smiling in acknowledgment and thanks. his heart feels caught in his chest - tight with such affection and simultaneously pounding in knowing what he wants to do next.]

Yeah, it has.

[he shouldn't say it, but he finds he can't look that sweet face in the eye and leave it unsaid.]

Best date I've ever been on, actually.

[and tim will know well by now - anything hawk says doesn't come from just being kind or for the sake of it. his brows lift, chin tipping up as their thick cake layered with strawberries and cream arrives and is placed between them both.]

Ah. Here we go - I think you're gonna love this.

[hawk snags both the forks at first before tim can, not wanting to lose either the opportunity or his nerve before the moment is well and truly gone. his gaze grows a little harder, more focused as he slowly sticks the fork through the slightly chilled piece, twisting up a decadent dollop of cream and berries in one before lifting it not towards his own mouth, but extending it very clearly for tim to lean in and take himself.]

Try it for me - open up.

[a beat, voice lowering into something low and stretched out.]

Like a good boy.

[apologetics]

The best I've been on. I mean it.

[ he's been on a few dates here and there - once with a girl from church his mother tried to pair him with. second, with a girl from bible school. one other girl in college because he truly thought maybe he could figure himself out without the church involved. but figuring himself out meant a boy with a pretty face named arthur, and that night the timbre of his prayers changed.

it's no different now - sitting across from hawk in the dim light of the restaurant, feeling hazy and warm from the wine. he's had far, far too much at this point, he knows that much. there's no turning back now, but he would drink another bottle if it meant prolonging this little date.

the cake arrives, though, perfectly prompt to his great dismay, but hawk swipes the forks and he blinks up at him, surprised and wide-eyed. he almost opens his mouth to protest, but then -

ah. ]

It looks delicious, sir.

[ tim's mouth has suddenly run dry, his face heating a little more and he leans his chin heavily on his folded hands, watching as hawk cuts the slice, scoops some of the cream, and a slice of fresh strawberry. it moves across the table in slow motion and tim feels as though he stands on the precipice of something - something that should he leap toward and across, there will be no true return. ]

Only for you, mister.

[ tim's voice drops, a little playful, his doe-eyes heavy lidded and cheeks flushed. he looks everything the long-lashed temptress he does when on camera, lips poised into an innocent little pout that reeks of innocent curiosity. his hands drop to the table and he presses up a little, scooting out of his chair enough to lean in. there's no one too close on their side of the restaurant so he decides to milk it, opening plush lips but first extending his tongue, letting it catch the underside of the fork.

it's slow, the way he curls his tongue and lips around the helping of the cake, and it's no accident he lets some smudge at the corner of his mouth. he tips his head back enough to take the bite from the fork itself, to savor the flavor and close his eyes in a low, pleased hum.

he leaves the frosting at the corner, and remains leaned in, lifted just slightly over the dessert between them. the wine makes him bold, brave. but not enough to cross enemy lines just yet. ]

It's so good. How did you know I like strawberries and cream so much? I must have been a very good boy to earn this.

[homosexuals]

[it occurs to him that he really ought to ask how many dates tim has been on - not for ego's sake (well - maybe a little bit for ego's sake) - but to gauge what that really means. sometimes it's still hard to reconcile the boy on camera who he'd assumed must have men falling for him left and right, dying to spend even just five minutes of time with him in whatever method was allowed. that assumption had extended into the daydreams about real life too - did he have a boyfriend? single? dating around? surely he had his pick of anyone he wanted. but then there's the tim he knows and remembers the slurred words of in the hospital that day, affirming there really wasn't anyone here for him. no friends, certainly no boyfriend, and not even classmates who might think twice other than to copy notes when they'd ditched.

it seems utterly unfathomable to him that it would be that way - that the light he sees in tim that is overwhelmingly vibrant and beautiful and unique would be otherwise unobserved by almost everyone around him. of course there are other teachers who admire his contributions - but they won't remember him the way hawk does, moreso a passing fascination and a novelty that a student is willing to put in so much extra work. that someone is actually thoughtful in their answers, not on auto-pilot to get a great and get out of the class. it's why no one's gone the extra mile to nurture him, to reach in and shape the rough edges of the diamond that's inside into something glittering and spectacular, ready to dazzle the world.

(that's why he knows his own time is limited - because someday everyone else will catch up. they'll see tim for all the kindness and warmth and intelligence he possesses, and they will elevate him to the pedestal he should occupy. they'll adore him, and hawk will be the one fading into the background, irrelevant - just a stepping stone along the way.)

but there's little time to linger on the way his chest twinges with something painful at that idea, instead lining up the first bite of dessert and offering it oh so politely to his date, just like a gentleman should. none of this was going to be chaste, per se - but hawk immediately realizes there's a very solid chance he's completely underestimated tim's ability to set his entire chest ablaze, dick twitching with want as he watches the show unfold. and it really is something of a show - not the finessed, choreographed kind of thing he remembers from earlier streams, but the moment just getting the better of tim and letting him dive headfirst into it, the only way he knows how. he watches him scoot in eagerly, eyes falling half-lidded between a coquettish little declaration that this is all for hawk - his mister, and then he pushes himself up with his back arched the way he might to show off that pretty pink hole hawk knows lies beneath. sticks out his tongue, gleaming under the dim lighting as it wraps around the underside of the fork.

there's no way that cream left at the corner of his mouth is anything but intentional - made to drive him slowly into temptation with no deliverance from the evil of it. fuck, hawk wants to grip him by the collar and drag him in, taste the strawberries and cream from the inside of his mouth and no other way. lick him clean, savor every inch of that velvety warmth and cherish the precise flavor of timothy laughlin. make him moan around it, moreso than he already is over the silvery tines of the fork.

tim should know he has hawkins fuller wrapped around a finger in that moment, rooted to his seat, utterly riveted by what's on display for him. what ultimately, he just can't touch. well - not completely.]

Yeah, fucking delicious.

[he hasn't had a single bite, but that's not what he's talking about anyway. but he leans in anyway, thumb brushing against the corner of tim's mouth where that little peak of white lingers. it's tempting to bring it to his own mouth, but instead he drags it along the seam of tim's lips, waiting for him to open his mouth and suck it inward.]

You've been real good. You want some more?

[apologetics]

[ it's the wine making him bold, making him feel the fire under his skin and embrace it instead of being sheepish and shy about it. there's nothing to stop him now from trying for more with hawk, except that it is indeed hawkins fuller on the other side of the table. the invisible lines are drawn between them, but there's a hunger in the man's eyes that tim knows means those lines might bend a little here and there.

it's different still from the boy on the camera, though. he's less lewd, less showy, less pushy, but there's a heat in his own eyes, heavy-lidded, dark lashes fanning against his cheeks at the compliment. ]

It is delicious.

[ he nearly opens his mouth to speak again, but hawk's thumb swipes at the cream, and there's so little hesitance in the way his mouth opens against the pad of his thumb, the way he doesn't just press a kitten lick like might be expected, but instead the way he sucks his thumb in to the first knuckle even, swirling his tongue around the sweet confection there against his skin before tipping his head back with a soft pop.

tim's eyes stay locked on hawk's the whole time, even as he grins, hums a low little teasing sound, all to lead up to that soft, little kitten lick against his thumbprint. just a tiny little chase for something more.

they're tucked into the back, and hawk's broad shoulders no doubt hide most of this from view anyway, tim shifts his weight a little, hips a little better on display over the arch of his back as he waits. ]

Please, sir. [ his heart pounds, the wine makes his blood simmer, and it's easy to forget the rest of the room. he will let hawkins fuller feed him this sweet cake until he chooses he's tired of it. what will it mean when this ends? when the cake has run out and they have to return to the life they had before this? ]

I want anything you're willing to give me, mister.

[homosexuals]

[it is different from the boy on the camera. better, because this isn't a performance - and it's just for his eyes only. christ, he's fucking stunning this close up. the dark swathe of his lashes against the tops of his rosy cheeks, enlarged by the thick magnification of his lenses. the way he looks loose and pliant and utterly at ease in his own skin for once - not pretending to be something or someone he isn't. hawk knows this is the real tim, the boy he's come to adore over hours in his office for his wit and his naive optimism, his full commitment to the greater good and the betterment of the world. god knows he's made hawk's life a hell of a lot better by mere existence, and certainly by sitting across from him like this and going on the first real date he's been on since maybe his early 20s.

but that mouth, oh jesus - it sends a searing pulse of want straight down to his groin, eyes widening briefly before narrowing in a simmer of self-control. his lips tug to one side in a pleased smirk, thumb flexing lightly in tim's mouth as he feels the soft wetness swirling around the digit. it lasts simultaneously mere seconds and yet time stands still - hawk trying to memorize the little flash of pink retreating, the way his mouth looks held open as he tilts back and releases it like he's doing something else instead. fuck, it shouldn't be this easy to make him feel hot under the collar, a pulsing throb rushing down to his dick. what hawk wouldn't give to drag him by his shirt across the table and taste the cream straight from his mouth, to swirl his own tongue against tim's.

fuck. he can't. this is playing with fire - and he forces himself to steady his breath and keep his shit together. the cold rush of reality is that tim is probably tipsy by now, and anything more than this would make him no better than the man at that pizza parlor months ago. please sir is an unfair testament to his iron will in this moment, that he doesn't do something stupid like nudge his oxford up tim's calf or worse.

still. it's hard not to be endeared much as he is utterly turned on in the moment. hawk's smirk softens into something fond, hand cupping his cheek briefly as he stabs another bite onto his fork and offers it over again.]

Here, have some more.

You make it look good.

[his gaze drops to the way tim is perched up against the table, swallowing thickly and glancing over his shoulder briefly before turning back and lowering his voice anyway.]

Better than what's on this plate, that's for damn sure.

[apologetics]

[ how can they go back to civil conversations divided by desks and chairs now, mediated by essays and projects and academia. he wants nothing more than to slide his chair round the side of the table and take up space beside the man, press into his side and breathe in his aftershave again, to let him taste just how delicious the dessert indeed is.

it's filthy, thinking this way. it's nearly filthy what he's doing, leaning over and accepting each healthy forkful. he shouldn't be so obscene in public, shouldn't show this much interest in general, but the wine has made him bold, and the romance of the night even bolder.

so he leans to take the next bite, as slow and sensuous as the one before, but just as he closes his mouth around only half the bite (resulting in icing of course spreading upon his lips), he reaches to catch hawk's wrist as his head pulls away, thumb pressing into his pulsepoint like before as his free hand pries the fork away.

licking his lips, tim turns the fork instead toward hawk - the half bite left on the tines, icing smudged and waiting. ]

But you haven't even tried it. You should. I'll share, sir.

[ he offers the fork out himself to hawk, just as the man had done for him, and tim's cheeks burn with the thought of his own audacity here - the courage he'd never had with any other date before. it doesn't help that the heat has traveled down his chest and has made his cock throb with want in a way he's not experienced.

he wants hawk to want him. and while his coquettish behavior should be punishable by some, he can't help himself. he likes being this boy for hawk, and likes exploring just what this sort of affection can be like when they're far from campus.

it's silly, that a date like this gives him some kind of hope. he's seen movies, tv shows - dates like this end in sex, end in goodbyes, end in shame. but leaning over the table, fork extended, tim's earnestness is genuine and hopeful. ]

I promise you'll love it. What's on the plate, and off.

[homosexuals]

[really, how can they? hawk doesn't think it's possible, knowing everything between them is forever altered - an undercurrent of heat, the dangerous flirtation and blatant attraction utterly gaping and palpable between them. maybe a part of it always was, letting tim get as close as he has. ushering him in, tending to him in his time of need. would he have done that if it was a student that didn't perform as well? didn't have pretty brown doe eyes and long, nimble fingers tapping away with a face still undeniably handsome even as it scrunched in concentration? a student who hawk hadn't seen get himself off only by filthy words typed out on a screen, begging for release and guidance as easily as he might ask for clarification on an argument against dubai foreign policy.

this would all be a lot harder to justify if they didn't only have finals to get through. and then - on a technicality, he'll be relieved of his duties as tim's professor, instead reverting to a former acquaintance. if he was worth his salt, he'd be nothing but a reference for tim to use on his future burgeoning opportunity at a career in washington - because despite all the lines he's crossing by sitting in this very seat, watching tim suck at his thumb and groan around a fork of cake like a goddamn coquette - hawk wouldn't compromise him like that. and frankly, the sane part of him that still lives somewhere in his head wouldn't do it either.

but it's awfully hard to care when he watches that pretty pink tongue drag creamy white slow across his glistening lips, when his pulse jumps against that gentle press against his wrist. he relinquishes his grip on the fork with interest, tipping his head mildly as he wonders where tim is going with this. he's half expecting him to eat the rest in some other obscene measure, something that will have him utterly throbbing beneath his already rapidly tightening inseam - but instead tim goes and surprises him, utterly thoughtful despite this heated exchange. that's the skippy he knows - never too buried in his books to remember to be sweet, wine-drunk and heady with this anomaly between them, but still focused on offering hawk something too.

there's an affectionate warmth in his eyes, hawk glancing down through his lashes for a moment in consideration before he reaches out to grab tim's wrist in an expert mimic of the motion he'd just slipped past - fingers flexing against the bare skin and using it to pull the fork closer, opening his mouth and taking the bite of it without much pretense or fanfare. he's not the one to put on a show, to make it an indulgence the way tim can - but his gaze is heavy, deliberate in the way he fixes it on tim and maintains eye contact the entire time. there should be no question how deep the ocean of want that roils inside him is for timothy laughlin - it's bottomless, much in the same way it remains almost wholly unexplored.

he pulls back with an absent lick of his own lips, nodding in agreement and stroking lightly up tim's arm for a brief moment before pulling back.]

Pretty damn good. Shame the other one isn't on the menu.

[it doesn't have to be forever. we could - ]

Not yet, anyway.

[there's a conspiratorial grin, hawk extending his hand for the fork again.]

You want some more?

[apologetics]

[ hawk's eyes burn through him and even though that broad palm wraps around his hand, thumb pressing at his pulse and sliding along his skin with an expert ease, tim finds himself unable to blink as he meets the man's gaze. it takes the air out of his lungs, makes the blood warm and move faster beneath his skin, makes the fly of his jeans grow a hair more taut and he's sure he could burst into flames here.

hawk eats the cake with little show, but it's the tension between them, the connection of electricity unseen between the flutter of their lashes. when hawk speaks, he lets out the breath he hadn't meant to hold, finds himself absolutely shaken by how fixed he'd been in that moment, trapped in the quick sand of want and need and heady desire, bottomless and vast - laid out cleanly on a silver-tined fork. ]

Not yet.

[ not yet, hawk says and suddenly the world shifts somehow. it'd stared with no, never, can't to this. to not yet, not now, maybe, one day. the crevasse that lies between them is vast, yes, but not daunting. hawkins fuller wants him, desires timothy laughlin - not skippy. that alone is a fucking prize tonight. ]

You should have some first.

[ and in a little hint of cheeky defiance, he reaches to set the used fork across the small dessert plate before hawk, leaning enough that when he slides back, he lets his fingers trail over his forearm again, to his wrist, to tangle idly with his fingers like before.

cheeky, bold, wanting in a way he shouldn't, but at the very least he knows he can have this. and with his free hand he takes up the clean fork, stabs a bite from the remainder of the cake and pops it to his lips, all the while his fingers trace a tiny little pattern against his palm.

the honeyed brown of his own eyes raises then behind the thick rims of his glasses and he hums, thoughtful, nose scrunching in at the corners, eyes crinkling. ]

We'll have to look for cassiopeia later, when we leave. It's dark out - clear. We should be able to see her in the sky if we look hard enough on the drive back. It's said she holds the brightest star in the night sky.

[homosexuals]

[it's strange to think he's done such a good job burying his desires - because he'll never forget how exposed he felt in broad daylight among christmas festivities and otherwise innocent bystanders amid that coffee shop months ago. like the whole place must have had eyes in the back of their head, that he was on full display with a neon sign spelling out that hawkins fuller was here to fuck a boy he's paid for the company. putting a face to the name and having that name turn out to be tim? of course he'd doubled back, pretended it wasn't real. his first line of defense had been to deny, deny, deny - but the further along it went, the more he knew he'd never be able to keep it that way forever. especially not if it meant watching him wilt away, though he's not so arrogant to think it's his attention alone that brought tim back like a flower moved out of the shadows and back into the sun, ready to bloom once more.

how could he do anything but want? it's practically eletric between them - and it has been ever since he set foot into hawk's classroom, christ.

so maybe it's clouding his judgment from never, can't, no to maybe, one day, soon. because he's been living in this fog the whole time, and having tim in front of him now, wide-eyed and flushed with admiration? it's clearing it up real quick for him.

hawk lets his fingers twine around tim's again, thumb brushing across his knuckles as he watches him pick up the fork and take his own bite this time. he gestures for him with a come hither motion to do it again, to turn it his way so he can open his mouth and have another to savor. it is pretty damn good, after all, and while it's sweet enough that he doubts he'll be able to take a stab at finishing the whole thing - he wants to draw this out as long as he can. before they have to get into close quarters with tim so warm and enticing for an hour and some change. before they have to head back to campus and pretend it's business as usual between them, that this hasn't changed everything for him, left him with a burning fire in his groin and his very soul that wants to consume the pretty thing sitting across from him looking utterly enamored.

but - it's the mention of cassiopeia that has him quirking his brows for a moment before his face smooths out and he tosses his head back and actually laughs. it's a genuine thing, easy and open and when he leans forward again with a little shake from side to side before looking at tim, there's equal measures of fondness and amusement in his eyes.]

You know - the first time you mentioned that, I had no idea what the fuck it was. Went along with it because, well - I was a little preoccupied, and I wasn't about to stop things to ask.

[it's maybe the first time he's acknowledged the reality of those sessions ever since shutting it down. admitting and making the connection between the two halves of their existence - now forever merged.]

You'll have to point her out to me. Not sure she can outshine you, though.

[apologetics]

[ tim knows that he shouldn't be eager to devour the sweet confection between them, but he can't help himself. his diet at school isn't the best, and the meal he's been given tonight on so many levels has been more wonderful and rich than anything he's had in years. he takes his own bite, then offers hawk another, nose wrinkling cutely at the little come hither motion.

it's easy to think that this is what their relationship could be - soft and warm and wanting from all directions. hawk's fingers around his, words against his ear, mouth on his knuckles, and they're done. but the acknowledgement of their meeting is a lot, heavy and real between them - the first time you mentioned that. tim curls their fingers together and sets his fork down. yes, there is some cake left, of course, but he won't eat all of it.

even if he wants to. ]

You can ask, you know. I know it's stupid, but I always felt like I could say whatever I wanted with you. During those sessions. Like your intelligence could match or best mine. Interrupt, next time.

[ he shrugs one shoulder, almost sheepish. ]

I think I'd find it hot, anyway. The instructor being instructed, and all. But no, I can't outshine you. That's what I meant.

[ he smiles a little, earnest and honest, before nudging the fork back in hawk's direction. tim keeps his hand in hawk's even as the server comes to inquire about the check, brings them the bill to close out their night. the fact that it has to end at all is enough to make him want to wither and cling and beg for a few minutes more, but he doesn't.

he watches as hawk elegantly signs his name, even as the server brings a little nondescript to-go box to take the remainder of the cake (hawk insisted, of course). but it's the weight of the man's arm around his back that gets him when they rise. the wine seems to hit him a little more as he stands, but it's a pleasant, humming sort of buzz that warms him from head to toe.

he follows hawk out into the cool, night air and sighs a little, keeping one of his own arms at hawk's back, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. what is it to touch this man - to be even in his presence like this and be wanted so much but be so out of reach? what would he do, if he tip-toed up and kissed him here in front of the flashing lights of the restaurant's signs? he won't. but the thought is there when he tips his head up, letting his chin plop on hawk's shoulder for a moment so that he can talk a little quieter and stop him just short of the car. ]

If you look up, you can see her, you know. [ he grins a little, boyish and sweet, turning his body at an angle to hawk's, chest to his side as he reaches his free hand and points to one bright star in a cluster of five, forming a faint little w in the sky, blinking brightly down at them. ]

She was said to have unrivaled beauty. But don't read into the myth too much. She's up there as a punishment, really, they say. But I just think that it's beautiful that she has the brightest star in all of the sky, anyway.

[homosexuals]

[this is the part he's been dreading all night - signing off on that bill like it's closing the door on this frankly fucking magical evening. it means going back to pretending like he wasn't just feeding strawberries and cream to this bright boy, watching him lick it off his lips and imagining what they might look like somewhere else. it means polite and professional and strictly political - at least, where anyone might see them. because what else will tim have to come visit him for once he's done with this course? maybe there are other idiots in the department like lonigan he'll be in the vicinity for, but spending hours with hawkins fuller - that'll be a thing of the past.

which is why it's exceedingly tempting to think about what happens when tim is no longer his student. it's too close a technicality - one he never would have even considered months before, no matter how sweet the scrunch of his nose when he laughed, or how entrancing the way his lips wrapped around pencils in clear evidence of an oral fixation. timothy laughlin would have just been his star pupil - someone he was attracted to in both mind and body - but he wonders if the sex, physical or not, is what really tipped this over the edge. it's hard to say - and seems especially unlikely given the way hawk eagerly slips up behind him as a clearly wine-tipsy, maybe even drunk tim rises to slightly shaky feet and he can't help but slide his hand to the small of his back and guide him like a lover would to the front door.

and once they're out in that perfect summer breeze - he lets it lift to wrap around his shoulders and keep him close as they walk side by side down the sidewalk and up the block to his car.

what might it be like, years from now? will he and tim be more than a fleeting infatuation and do this every other night? or will they be too gone on each other to do more than race home to get into bed with each other and stay there until hunger reminds them takeout is the only thing still open at such an obscene hour? or...worse, will they simply fade apart and peter out like everything else in hawk's life? it's hard not to consider it - to be reminded again no matter how much he tries to think around it, that tim is the one that's going to have options. his dreams are going to catapult him skyward, higher maybe even than the smattering of stars in a brilliant array spread out above them.

it'd be punishment for hawk, no one else. maybe he deserves it.]

I see her. She's nice and bright, but she's got nothing on you.

[hawk nudges tim's hip lightly in a tease, still not making any moves to guide them back towards the car. a little longer and he can pretend this is how it'll be.]

Why'd she end up being punished anyway? What was it you said - instructing the instructor?

Go on, Professor Laughlin.

[hawk turns, grin stretching his lips and pressing against the shell of his hear. it's audible in the teasing tone, the way he sounds near almost childish giggling.]

Hawkins Z. Fuller - present for class. I'm listening. But I hope there's no quiz later.

[apologetics]

[ it must be the wine that has him so easily charmed by everything hawkins fuller says to him, and yet even the simplest joke about a star, bright and high in the sky, turned compliment makes him snort a little laugh, blushing heavy and hot in the cool summer air.

he sways a tiny bit with the bump of a hip, letting his fingers grip against hawk's side where his arm has come to rest, slung low round his back and broad palm on his side. he's warm, sturdy, and the lips against the shell of his ear send heat white-hot and whip-fast shooting down down down south making the black, slender jeans feel all the tighter at their seams. but hawk sounds delighted, giddy even and something about that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest.

when he turns his head to speak to hawk, he realizes how close they are, nose bumping the man's, but it doesn't stop him from speaking as they walk. ]

It's really not romantic. I've been told I'm a terrible liar, or I'd just make something up that was much more interesting. But the tale's told that she boasted about her beauty - that she was even more beautiful than the Nereids. Poseidon was furious with this, and it's said he made her sacrifice her daughter to the sea and he sent her to sit in the throne she felt she deserved, but in the sky. Upside down, so no one could ever truly behold her beauty.

[ he huffs a little, sheepish, shrugging one shoulder as he finishes the tale, glancing away from hawk and up the street. two blocks more to the car, and then the dream will shatter beneath their feet. the pavement turned to glass, the carriage into pumpkins, and all the magic will wash away.

he tilts his head back up then to hawk, nose crinkled, brow pinched in thought. ]

And maybe I shine bright, but I don't think there's anyone on this whole Earth so beautiful as you. It's probably better she's way up there - there would be no competition.

I hope you took excellent notes, Mr. Fuller. I can't promise there won't be a quiz later - divulging that to you would go against my code of conduct. Lips sealed, alright?

[ and it's so brief, so faint and light, the way he boyishly lets his lips catch the corner of hawk's mouth after his own nose bumps against hawk's cheek, the way it's fleeting and shy like a doe spooked at the coming of dawn, and tim tilts his head a little surprised by his own boldness but a youthful, burning pride in it, too. his eyes are turned again on the sidewalk. ]

[homosexuals]

[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?]

[apologetics]

[ the mythologies of the world and the stars high above their heads suddenly mean nothing to timothy laughlin, who stands beneath them tucked into the warmth of hawkins fuller's side. this day, from start to finish, has been something he will never truly be able to remove from his memory, to take off of his heart, even he tried. the shy kiss to his lips would be enough, he's sure, to have hawk moving him toward the car, ushering them away to school to put a close on whatever this is.

tim knows better than to think he can get away with it, than to think that toeing across the line that the man has clearly drawn for him is a good idea. he'll blame it on the wine later which, true, he's feeling, but not enough to cloud his judgement. it gives him a hint of courage and that's all a boy like timothy laughlin needs.

the sound he makes when hawk's hands leave his shoulders and cradle his face, forcing his gaze up to the searing blue he's been memorizing all night, all the air leaves his chest. he thinks, at first, he's about to be scolded - told firmly that he must adhere to the limitations set for them even as far back as december, and yet -

his body acts on its own when the man's lips seal over his and his free hand comes instinctively to hawk's chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. he leans up into the kiss, hard and wanting, gasping a sound of surprised against the pressure as his eyes slip closed and his mouth parts, easy and pliable and so desperately wanting of this.

what must he taste like - all strawberry cream and wine and heady spice? will time stop passing for them in this moment where his stomach both flips giddily and churns with desperate need?

it's not fully conscious the way he closes the space between their bodies - nothing lewd or untoward, just removing air and any sign of interruption in a desperate bit for closeness. should hawk let him deepen the kiss, he will - and lick hot into his mouth on a quiet little hum even as his hand leaves hawk's chest to slide up against his shoulder and hold him a little tighter. ]

One more. Please?

[ it's a mumbled little bid, a pouting sort of demand, as he parts briefly for a breath and kisses him again, with no hesitation this time, no question as to where they are or who might see because in this brief moment. it doesn't matter, anyway - there's nothing but he and hawk here, and the stars above them. anyone else will see two lovers in the dim lamplight and move on by. ]

[homosexuals]

[nothing else matters right now. not any of the passerby, not the fact that the drive is probably going to be shorter on the way in with traffic dying down, and certainly not anything other than the taste of tim's lips and the way his hands feel against his chest nor the radiating warmth from how close he's standing. christ, how long has he been dreaming of this? it's undeniably dangerous to let himself know what he tastes like with strawberries and cream and sweet red and know how his breath feels this close, or to let his hand slide and grip firm at the back of his neck where he can tip it back and both control the deepness of it and give tim some leeway to set just how much more he'd like. the groan that slips out of him doesn't even register as his own when he lets his tongue slip inside, twining against tim's with a hunger that no steak or dessert could ever fill.

the first thing he ought to do when he pulls back is cease all contact, step back like tim might scald him as if he'd left his hand too long on a hot iron. he should apologize for the overstep, tell him to forget it just like he did in december.

but they're not the same people they were last december, are they? too much has passed between them - and certainly, tonight is a step forward that he doesn't want to take back. so hawk lets his grip shift again lightly to tim's cheeks, eyes opening slowly as if he might keep the dream of this moment a little longer. tim's a vision up close - hazy in the tilt of his head, impossibly sweet the way he asks as if he's merely wanting another forkful of cake. there's something that tugs at his chest with it, how endeared he is - fucking gone, really, because the thought of saying no doesn't even cross his mind again.]

Mhm. Another one, only because you asked so sweet.

[there's a soft tug of his lips into a smile before he leans forward again, trying to keep it a gentle press of his mouth so he isn't tempted to stand here all night and memorize the smell, taste, and feel of him. to count down the days until he can feel it even closer and at their own leisure.

shit. of course he knows it won't be enough right now.]

[apologetics]

[ the way his body fits against hawk's feels divine - like he was meant to fold into his chest and kiss him like this. he can remember, hazily, how it had felt when the man had carried him from campus to the hospital and back - how he just slotted against him like he was meant to be there. it feels like that now, pressed up to him and kissing him, the heavy weight of hawk's hand at his neck.

although he's just about as tall as hawk is, he feels himself needing to tip-toe up for the way he could melt right now, nudging into their fiery kiss with a yearning reach for more, more, more. but it will always feel like this - passing moments together from this instance on. it will drive him mad.

tim grins up at hawk, letting their noses brush together softly as hawk comes in for the next kiss graciously granted. it's soft, a simple, gentle press of his mouth and it's pathetic how he sighs into it, the hand at hawk's shoulder sliding so that his arm hooks round his neck and keeps him close. it was meant to be a simple little kiss, he's sure, but tim parts his lips and instead of the fierce, hungry thing from a few moments earlier, it's slow - a soft and languid twine of his tongue past soft lips, so that when he does pull back for air, he's flushed hot and left awed by him. ]

Please don't make me let go of you right now.

[ he wants to stay close, wants to hold him like this could be their forever, even as he tilts his head and presses his mouth against the corner of hawk's lips again, nosing at his cheek when his lips press one final kiss to his jawline. ]

Does this have to end?

[ there's the wine talking a little, voice whispered between them as tim all but asks the question against hawk's mouth, his eyes flitting to look up at hawk under dark lashes. he worries the corner of his own mouth between his teeth after he asks the question, heart pounding in his chest. his fingers have slid into the hair at his nape, the blunt of his nails soft against his scalp. ]

[homosexuals]

[it's funny how time can stand still and speed up so much in the span of a mere minute. tim presses up against him onto his toes, seeking it out in a physical manifestation that none of this is quite enough. and now that he's gone and broken one of his own cardinal rules - hawk suspects it never will be again, not when there's a soft nuzzle of tim's nose against his own, a butterfly kiss on top of the chaste one he's trying to place here so they can part and try not to think more on it. but it's a foolish endeavor from the start - hawk knowing when tim sighs into it that simply letting go isn't an option. it didn't work in december, and it sure as hell won't work now - now that he knows how tim feels pressed against his body so willingly.

fuck. it's not a filthy kiss this time, even if it wasn't the first, but there is a slow build to it, the kind of hunger and passion that's barely masked even though hawk's desperately trying to contain the bulk of it behind one of his already cracked facades. his lips pull back even if his body refuses to let go of tim right now - pressing his forehead against the other man's and exhales sharply against his lips with a slight shake of his head.]

Couldn't even if I wanted to.

[and that's the fucking truth. it's a heavy, vulnerable thing to admit - but the thought of letting tim down when he looks up through heavy lidded doe-eyes makes it all but impossible to stop. hawk inhales for a moment, holding it in and thinking about all the merits of willpower and his career on the line before making the decision in a split second. one hand falls to slip between tim's with a soft squeeze against his palm, and he pulls away to glance both ways before tugging him towards the car in the short distance.]

C'mere.

[i can't let this end either, he wants to say. but instead he practically drags tim back to the car, opening his door and letting him slide in before coming round the driver's side with measured intention and shutting his own. there's a pause, considering that he could shove his key in and start the ignition - get on the road before he does anything stupid. instead, he turns at the waist, both hands reaching for tim's cheeks again as he drags him in with all the ferocity he's been holding back behind the added privacy of dim street lights and darkened windows. there's a hunger in the way he groans against his lips, like he might devour tim whole if he were afforded the opportunity the way his jaw works and his tongue slips inside that plush mouth.]

[apologetics]

[ there's no denying the way his heart sinks when hawk pulls away finally even after the languorous kiss. of course they can't stand in the street kissing like lovesick fools all night - reality has to come knocking and as hawk pulls away, tim knows that their night is coming to an end. he squeezes the man's hand as they part, blinking up at him a little dazed still. ]

Right. Okay.

[ he tries to take a deep breath, to steady the wild rhythm of his heart as the man tugs him along the half block to the car. it feels hurried in a way that tim can't clock, and he settles into the passenger side feeling as though the world is spinning around him. his lips still burn, his chest warm, and already he misses how safe he'd felt pressed against hawkins fuller in the middle of the lamplight.

he tracks hawk's movement, watches him as he gets in and out of habit reaches for his own seatbelt once hawk's door closes. right. it has to end. reality is here and they will leave the lovey haze of this date (this reward, he reminds himself), and return to whence they came. so there's little to prepare him for the way hawk reaches for him, grabs at him and kisses him with a fervor that makes tim groan loudly into the kiss.

he uses once hand to brace himself on the center console but the other reaches blindly for hawk, fingers fisting in his shirt and pulling him even closer. tim leans much the same way he had at the dinner table, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further and let his tongue match hawk's, sliding and yearning and seeking as though tim is nothing more than a man drowning.

the noise that tumbles into the kiss is akin to something hawk has undoubtedly heard on one of their private video sessions. a moan, almost musical in the way it rumbles between their lips and the noise of their shared kiss, coupled with the tightening of fingers in hawk's shirt, knuckles pressed hard into the muscle above his heart. ]

[homosexuals]

[there's no reason to linger on the way tim sounds so disappointed by the revelation, the knowledge that this has to come to its inevitable conclusion. that they'll be forced to go back to the boundary that's been broken all the same - separated by desks and dissertations even if the time spent together has a new thrum of heat and an added layer or familiarity they can never share on georgetown campus. hawk has to let himself push forward, to just get to the car before his resolve breaks and he considers the fantasy of what they can't have just yet.

it takes a moment to steel himself in the car too, to pretend he doesn't see the way tim is almost pouting with disappointment and reaching to secure himself when they have precious little space to begin with. it's why he all but launches himself over the middle console, encouraging tim to twist and lean forward for something that much more ardent. hawk can't remember the last time he kissed someone, let alone made out with them at his own leisure. it doesn't usually come up unless it's a precursor to getting them face down and fucked out.

but tim makes him want to take his time, to explore the velvety insides of his mouth and let their tongues twist and slide against each other with a need that borders on desperation. one arm drops to snake around tim's shoulders best as he can from this angle, the other hand slipping to let his fingers press hard around tim's jaw and keep directing him into kiss after heated kiss. anything to feel the vibrations of his groans, to let those keening noises find their way into his own mouth and possess them forever.

now his restraint teeters on the dangerous reality of keeping his hands above the waist, even if his own inseam is uncomfortably tight and he'd like to see if tim's mirrors it. he recognizes those tempting little tidbits smattered between kisses - and he wants to know if the rest of them would materialize from stimulation torn straight from the transcripts of their late night chats that feel like a fucking age ago.

hawk nips hungrily at his lips in quick succession, pulling away and breathing hard against his mouth.]

Christ, Skippy - could keep at this all night. You've got no idea how long I've been wanting to do that.

[they can't, but he doesn't feel the need to vocalize it when he could just dive back in and kiss him again.]