𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜 "𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔" 𝚣. 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homosexuals) wrote2023-12-22 11:36 pm
homosexuals) wrote2023-12-22 11:36 pm[UNI AU]
CAMBOY UNI AU
tell
me and i forget, teach me and i remember.
homosexuals) wrote2023-12-22 11:36 pm
no subject
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.
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[ 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.
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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?
no subject
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.
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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.
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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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
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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.
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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.
no subject
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. ]
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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?]
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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. ]
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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.]
no subject
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. ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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if this where anywhere else he might consider more - might consider dragging hawk's hand lower, encouraging him to touch and feel and grab and move him to the backseat and make this night something different altogether. but as they pull away, hawk nipping at his lips, tim finds himself breathless, nosing against the man and pressing little fluttering kisses against his lips ]
You've got no idea how long I've wanted you to do that.
[ he smiles, a little dopey and sweet for all the fire that is burning between them right now. his own jeans are impossibly tight, and what would it be like to grab the man's hand and drag it down where he can grab it, feel it, rut into it and get some more base relief. but no, instead he stays leaned up on the center, turned so that one knee is tucked under him. he's sure in the dim light it would be obvious to see how his jeans are straining now.
he tilts his head a little, letting his tongue swipe at the swell of hawk's bottom lip, a kittenish lick before turning his head and licking the pad of hawk's thumb once again, like they had in the restaurant. it's brief, the way his free hand grabs at hawk's wrist and tugs it free from his face. he lets his mouth trail to his palm, the tip of his tongue tracing the lifeline there once before he presses a kiss to it, then to his wrist.
then, and only then, does he lean back just slightly. the hand over hawk's heart loosens, presses flat to the broad chest there, petting slowly and smoothing out his shirt. ]
I want more. I... I want you. [ he only meets hawk's eyes when he finishes the statement, and he noses into his hand he's holding, dragging his palm to his cheek and holding it there. ]
But only when you... when you won't regret it. I don't want to break all of your rules. I... tonight has been wonderful. The best night of my life, because it was with you. I'm your boy, through and through, and even a boy's gotta protect his mister sometimes. Even if I don't want to.
[ the hand on his chest slides up, wandering to hawk's throat, his neck, letting his fingers lightly rest at the soft lobe of his ear, thumb pressing a soft little circle against it, pressed between it and a forefinger. he huffs a little sigh and leans in one last time and kiss him softly, lingering, all wanting and desperate but impossibly gentle. he keeps their noses brushed close, his lips over hawk's as he speaks, a near whisper: ]
Please tell me we can do this again one day.
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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.
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the validation there makes his blood sing with warmth and the fact that they have to end this is almost crushing. what would they be like, messy and tossed in the car, or what would the tension rise to if this car took him anywhere other than the georgetown campus dorms?
hawk's mouth trails along his cheek and jaw and tim arches toward him instinctively, sighing in a way that could only fall just short of a moan. hawk's mouth on him, his hands - the vision is everything he thought it would be when he laid in his dorm room on camera for this man. but he knows that can't be their reality - not right now. and he tells himself it's temporary, even though the reality of hawk rejecting him again after this, going back to strictly business, is very real. ]
I didn't want to take advantage.
[ funny, considering he's the one buzzing still with warmth from the wine, though he feels he has more clarity now than ever, even as hawk's lips find his forehead. his eyes flutter closed and he smiles, the gesture scrunching his nose as he nods softly and moves to sit back into his seat, pulling his seatbelt on.
it doesn't stop him from perching in the seat like he would were they in the privacy of hawk's office - heels coming up to catch the seat's edge, knees peeking up over the car door to the window. the car purrs to life when hawk starts it, and only when they're safely moving again does he reach for one of hawk's hands, delicately lacing their fingers and bringing their joined palms to rest over one of his knees.
it's not kissing, it's not the desperate touches and wanting, but a quiet little reminder that the tension on the air isn't all sexual and carnal. tim traces little patterns against the top of hawk's knuckles as the car moves on the road, the radio low in the background. ]
I like it when you call me Skippy, you know. [ he shrugs, grinning almost sheepishly over at him, leaning to prop his chin almost boyishly against their joined hands. ]
And good boy, of course. But Skippy, mostly. I don't have any inventive names for you, I'm sorry. Mister and sir - they're not very original, huh? [ and then, to add to the wry little mood hawk tries for? ]
I could call you Milton. Milty? Milt? Mr. M? [ he hums, knowing too well how this will go over. ]
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[there's a light tease to his words, the acknowledgment that once again in this evening the student is teaching the teacher - but as he puts his hands on the steering wheel and reluctantly turns on the engine, a purring hum as it rumbles to life - he turns to look at tim and nudge him with an elbow to earn his gaze back.]
I mean it. I care about you and your future.
[another pause has he reaches for the shifter, reversing smoothly and pulling away from the quaint little road that's been their private hideaway for the last few hours.]
I care about what it means for both of us, you know that - right?
[his focus is on the road until he sees tim shifting, glancing over at a stoplight and smiling privately to himself at the boy's inability to do anything but curl up and crunch himself into small spaces - more than making up for it in the way his wit and charm and knowledge and personality eventually widen it. yeah, hawk could watch him do that all day. it's hard not to get lost to the daydream of it with lights whirring past in pretty streaked blurs of color, distracted enough by the differing scenery that he doesn't notice tim reaching for his hand until he feels it warmly enveloping his own, strong and soft despite the rough parts like callouses on his fingers from gripping his pens and doing the garden work his parents put on him in the summer. there's a light squeeze against tim's knee, affectionate more than untoward before he lets his hand rest and strokes a thumb along the side of his wrist.]
Yeah? It's what drew me to you, you know. Never told you this, but there was a show on the radio when I was a kid. Well - Mom listened to it sometimes, when Dad wasn't around. I'd sneak it in the mornings before school. Can't remember the name, but I remember Skippy.
Practically an angel, just like you.
[another soft squeeze as tim draws it upward, hawk tipping his head to offer a lingering quirk of his lips upward.]
It suits you.
[but it drops just as quickly in mock disgust, hawk shaking his head.]
Dunno what I was thinking. "Call me Uncle Milty?" It's a wonder you didn't log off on me the second I got you in one of those chats.
[there's a pause, hawk flexing his fingers again and letting his voice drop even as he keeps his line of sight straight forward, watching them navigate onto the exit back to dc.]
But I'll be your man. Like the sound of that.
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maybe. one day.
tim squeezes the hand there softly, his head tilting so that it's his cheek that presses against their joined hands on his knee. he smiles a little, almost boyish and sheepish in the way that he flushes. ]
You will? I mean - [ a little embarrassed huff, then: ] I'm glad. That you'll be my man. I don't think I'd want any other man, anyway.
[ but there's the name - skippy - and tim just listens to the story of hawk's parents, the show, the sound. he can imagine that it must be a fond memory indeed, if the way hawk speaks is anything to go by. he's not blind to the implication that the show was only listened to when his father wasn't around - that's something tim knows very well. they have more in common in seems than even he had realized. ]
But I'm no angel. I think I'm fine with just being your boy - that's heavenly on its own, I think. I know that maybe things will be different - that there's a lot we both have to be careful of, of course. But I know you care. I know that better than anyone, I think.
[ he shrugs a little and leans back, keeping their hands tangled atop his knee, desperate for the touch and the connection. he dips his head one final time to press his lips against hawk's knuckles before his head tips back and his eyes drift over to the man in the dark of the car.
how is it he's handsome even here? ]
It's why I forgive you for the Uncle Milty line. I like Hawk, Hawkins, my man better. This night? This night has been beyond perfect.
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[that's exactly what an angel would say - , he almost argues back, because in the passing lights that streak across tim's face as quaint suburbia transitions once more into city highway - he looks an awful lot like one. there's something so youthful and innocent about him despite what hawk has been a rapt audience participant for, and there's a part of him that still can't believe someone so perfectly dichotomous exists within his reach, let alone wants to be firmly held within its grasp. it's going to be torture waiting for more, but everything about tim makes it worthwhile.
one hand rests firmly on the wheel, the sky darkening above them as evening gives way to the outright cover of night, but hawk steals glances at how sweet his student looks curled up in his seat, catlike almost in the way he thinks he might drift away at any moment into the warm embrace of an evening doze in the passenger seat. there's something juvenile about the way all of this feels - thrilling rather than immature, even if deep down hawk knows it's reckless for both of them now that they've heightened their a connection to a level that might be easier to spot. might be harder to tamp down when they're spending time across from each other in his office, or passing the halls with intention in their gaze that's visibly magnetic to anyone within its range.
hawk hums when those lips brush against the tops of his knuckles, wishing they were somewhere else now that his own tingle with the phantom sensation of their kisses already much too far behind them.]
See, overlooking that might be your most angelic act yet.
[he's teasing, of course. but his fingers squeeze again, eyes fixed on the road so tim can't see the way sincerity and an emotion of vulnerability wells up that he's loathe to let be so easily read. still. he should know this:]
Best date I've ever been on. We'll get to more of them, one day - but I've got plenty of expectations for us.
[of course the drive has to come to an end eventually, hawk pulling into a parking lot that's further in campus, behind the sciences building and more secluded under the darkness and a few broken lights. there's a quick scan, ensuring no prying eyes before he turns to tim, unable to hide the longing and affection this time. his fingers untangle, lifting to shift tim's chin towards him and curve along his jaw.]
Thank you, Skippy. This won't be the last of us - I promise.
[there's a pause, hawk tentatively sucking in a breath.]
Would you let me kiss you goodnight?
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