Oh I couldn't possibly put them out any more. I'm sure these excursions are the highlight of their week.
[it's not meant to be judgmental, because god knows these men are trained and have seen much worse than a cocky kid half their age getting his dick sucked dry in some 50 shades enthusiast's wet dream. but the longer he can keep him from doing something stupid, the better - not just because this isn't exactly how he pictured spending his evening, but because hawk is old school even for his in between age and genuinely doesn't trust the likes of a place built on trading secrets. doesn't matter how secure their vault is - anyone can be bought. servers can be hacked. hard evidence can be infiltrated and stolen.
but right now he's focused on the likelihood that embry knows how to hold his liquor in the same way all pretty rich boys learn to do by fourteen, sixteen so they don't embarrass mommy and daddy at the estate during family holidays. but maybe tonight's an exception - making it more and more palpably clear this is drinking to forget, drinking to lose himself in something. drinking in a way that's surely going to end with hawk dragging or carrying him out of here, and fuck if that doesn't bring back some uninvited memories about a boy gulping scotch just to try and understand why hawk liked it so much, sitting in a joint not that much hazier than this looking for affection in all the wrong places. christ, they're nothing alike, and yet he still feels haunted by it all the same.
hawk steals back the cigarette while embry has his little tantrum, sucking down the rest of it and giving him a few seconds to storm off and confirm he does in fact want to be chased before he stubs it out into good baccarat crystal and rises in one fluid motion. the hallway beckons with just enough light to illuminate every misdeed happening inside the doorless rooms. men and women stretched out on the beds, on the floor, some on their knees - is that the ambassador from finland? huh. but embry's lithe figure is impossible to ignore even as he's plastered himself against a blonde in some shitty wig, looking like the kind of dreamed-up fantasy that any good old american boy would fall prey to.
of course he followed. not least of all because it's his fucking job and he considers himself still on the clock, but because maybe he's tired of watching embry run. so he steps inside too, setting his drink on top of an ornate dresser that must contain a multitude of sin in its drawers with a clink and folding his arms in casual observation.]
Didn't know you were much for blondes. [hawk tosses a mock-sympathetic look to the woman in question when she looks up in mild surprise at the visitor, shaking his head slightly.] No offense, I'm sure you're a doll.
[the only available seating is across the room, and he's waiting to gauge embry's reaction before making any additional moves inside and wondering if he's lost the plot himself here. call it a hunch, but fucking this faceless girl doesn't seem like it's going to get him what he's looking for. nothing in here probably is, and maybe it's the traitorous twitch of his own dick or the memory of what embry looks like splayed out for the taking - but hawk would like to think maybe he'd at least get a little closer than this.]
no subject
[it's not meant to be judgmental, because god knows these men are trained and have seen much worse than a cocky kid half their age getting his dick sucked dry in some 50 shades enthusiast's wet dream. but the longer he can keep him from doing something stupid, the better - not just because this isn't exactly how he pictured spending his evening, but because hawk is old school even for his in between age and genuinely doesn't trust the likes of a place built on trading secrets. doesn't matter how secure their vault is - anyone can be bought. servers can be hacked. hard evidence can be infiltrated and stolen.
but right now he's focused on the likelihood that embry knows how to hold his liquor in the same way all pretty rich boys learn to do by fourteen, sixteen so they don't embarrass mommy and daddy at the estate during family holidays. but maybe tonight's an exception - making it more and more palpably clear this is drinking to forget, drinking to lose himself in something. drinking in a way that's surely going to end with hawk dragging or carrying him out of here, and fuck if that doesn't bring back some uninvited memories about a boy gulping scotch just to try and understand why hawk liked it so much, sitting in a joint not that much hazier than this looking for affection in all the wrong places. christ, they're nothing alike, and yet he still feels haunted by it all the same.
hawk steals back the cigarette while embry has his little tantrum, sucking down the rest of it and giving him a few seconds to storm off and confirm he does in fact want to be chased before he stubs it out into good baccarat crystal and rises in one fluid motion. the hallway beckons with just enough light to illuminate every misdeed happening inside the doorless rooms. men and women stretched out on the beds, on the floor, some on their knees - is that the ambassador from finland? huh. but embry's lithe figure is impossible to ignore even as he's plastered himself against a blonde in some shitty wig, looking like the kind of dreamed-up fantasy that any good old american boy would fall prey to.
of course he followed. not least of all because it's his fucking job and he considers himself still on the clock, but because maybe he's tired of watching embry run. so he steps inside too, setting his drink on top of an ornate dresser that must contain a multitude of sin in its drawers with a clink and folding his arms in casual observation.]
Didn't know you were much for blondes. [hawk tosses a mock-sympathetic look to the woman in question when she looks up in mild surprise at the visitor, shaking his head slightly.] No offense, I'm sure you're a doll.
[the only available seating is across the room, and he's waiting to gauge embry's reaction before making any additional moves inside and wondering if he's lost the plot himself here. call it a hunch, but fucking this faceless girl doesn't seem like it's going to get him what he's looking for. nothing in here probably is, and maybe it's the traitorous twitch of his own dick or the memory of what embry looks like splayed out for the taking - but hawk would like to think maybe he'd at least get a little closer than this.]