[ it’s electric, every drag of hawk’s wet fingers, the slow, hot friction of his hips. embry’s cock makes a valiant effort to perk up, hypersensitive and begging for the torturous relief to recover. he wants hawk like this — reduced to the humiliating messes that embry always finds himself in. he wants hawk keening into his palm as he fucks him, preferably shoved up against a wall, his body his to use and misuse. he’d gotten a very small taste of cracking him back when he’d mentioned tim laughlin, and another now with hawk in the throes of grief, but he switches faces so quickly that embry can’t pin him down as much as he dreams of doing just that.
his eyes sweep open when hawk’s fingers pry for entry, and his brain goes for defiance even as his lips part willingly, tongue cushioning hawk’s fingers. they taste like smoke and sex, his own semen still dampening his skin. his breath cascades across hawk’s knuckles, his chin lifting to get a better angle to suck obscenely, tongue curling around each finger. if hawk swapped it for his dick right now, he'd take it without complaint — much complaint, anyway — his desire a hard, glittering jewel within him just waiting to be plucked. his throat rumbles around a soft groan, turning his head slowly to slide hawk's fingers free from the clamp of his lips. ]
You're stalling. What’s wrong, afraid you’ll like it?
[ it’s gratingly romantic, in a way, every languish touch, like hawk wants to learn embry, commit him to memory. embry finds he wants to do the same, to trace hawk’s sharp lines and angles, to know who touched him before and how he likes to be touched best so that embry can win his favor — even while embry shares this moment with a ghost of a memory, a flash of green eyes and dark hair and a presence so overwhelming he shudders. he leans up to catch hawk’s lips, kissing him again with a desperate, needy edge, his hands roaming across the lean muscles of his shoulders and back, and — there. his fingertips snag on an old scar, maybe unfamiliar to most, but he knows immediately what it’s from. ]
Is this from the war?
[ between his hushed tone and the music filtering in from the other room, he could be back there now, stealing moments in an unfamiliar bed. back then he had to be so careful with ash, and nothing’s really changed if he thinks about it. this all feels tenuous with hawk, like with one misstep they could remember all the reasons they shouldn’t be here at all. ]
no subject
his eyes sweep open when hawk’s fingers pry for entry, and his brain goes for defiance even as his lips part willingly, tongue cushioning hawk’s fingers. they taste like smoke and sex, his own semen still dampening his skin. his breath cascades across hawk’s knuckles, his chin lifting to get a better angle to suck obscenely, tongue curling around each finger. if hawk swapped it for his dick right now, he'd take it without complaint — much complaint, anyway — his desire a hard, glittering jewel within him just waiting to be plucked. his throat rumbles around a soft groan, turning his head slowly to slide hawk's fingers free from the clamp of his lips. ]
You're stalling. What’s wrong, afraid you’ll like it?
[ it’s gratingly romantic, in a way, every languish touch, like hawk wants to learn embry, commit him to memory. embry finds he wants to do the same, to trace hawk’s sharp lines and angles, to know who touched him before and how he likes to be touched best so that embry can win his favor — even while embry shares this moment with a ghost of a memory, a flash of green eyes and dark hair and a presence so overwhelming he shudders. he leans up to catch hawk’s lips, kissing him again with a desperate, needy edge, his hands roaming across the lean muscles of his shoulders and back, and — there. his fingertips snag on an old scar, maybe unfamiliar to most, but he knows immediately what it’s from. ]
Is this from the war?
[ between his hushed tone and the music filtering in from the other room, he could be back there now, stealing moments in an unfamiliar bed. back then he had to be so careful with ash, and nothing’s really changed if he thinks about it. this all feels tenuous with hawk, like with one misstep they could remember all the reasons they shouldn’t be here at all. ]