homosexuals | [POLITICAL AIDE AU]

[POLITICAL AIDE AU]

AKA MATT BOMERCEPTION

a diplomat is a person who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you actually look forward to the trip.

[it's not funny - and hawk doesn't even crack a conspiratorial smile or nod absently at it, instead looking momentarily uncomfortable at the admission. not because he doesn't want to hear it, but because he can empathize on some level when it comes to using whatever means necessary in the name of diplomacy and democracy sometimes, even at the expense of one's soul and especially comfort levels. as if vivienne moore is even aware there's such a thing as morals when it comes to pimping out her children, though morgan isn't even a remote thought in hawk's head right now. but it does make hawk think about embry as a child for a brief, almost uncomfortable moment - and fuck if it doesn't just twist the knife that it also makes him think about the person he was before he got on his knees for a boy he thought he loved and changed the trajectory of his life forever when the door opened and his father disowned him. was he soft like that, once upon a time? sweet and bright-eyed, with optimism for the world instead of the cesspool of ulterior motives and sticky flypaper favors?

he wishes the cigarette wasn't dwindled down so he could snatch it back and take a deep inhale, though at least embry isn't looking at him right now to see the complicated emotions flickering on his face in a moment of exceedingly rare vulnerability. all of this is foreign to him - the tight, palpable tension between them and the way he's desperate for embry to get to the point of whatever this visit is, whatever they've unironically been speaking around.

and then he's up close, eye-to-eye and surely taking in every imperfection hawk has let seep out through lack of care. but he's still hawkins fuller - and that means he's got enough confidence to stand up straight, tip his chin with the tiniest of smirks and brush back a few errant curls that have flopped forward onto his forehead before letting his hand slip easily against embry's warm shoulder and take the position he's been tasked with.]

Far be it from me to disregard all your previous waltzing woes. I'm just the guy working for you - whatever you say, boss.

[there's a hint of his usual playfulness, still a little tired sounding even as he musters it up and lets his fingers flex lightly against embry's hand.

but a part of him can't resist - leaning in close in a motion that could just be closing the gap and preparing for the first three-count, instead murmuring near his ear.]

But isn't the man supposed to put his hand near the waist? Go on, then.

[he can play woman, sure, but somehow even in a state of severe fucked-up-ness he can still find it in him to seize the upper hand and take the metaphorical lead. but he's pulled back enough to watch every flicker across the contours of embry's face, drinking it in like a replacement for the scotch he's tried to drown himself with all night.

christ, he's too goddamn handsome for his own good.]

Edited 2024-02-24 06:00 (UTC)

[ he'd put up a bigger fight if not for the present circumstances, but it does rankle each time hawk does his hawkins fuller thing and snatches the persian rug out from beneath his feet. sometimes embry falls so naturally into places he doesn't mean to that the idea of fighting his own nature aggravates him, especially when he doesn't want to admit to any goddamn nature to begin with.

but his hand is in a perfect place for this: to slide easily into the unkempt curls he's been fixating on since he walked through the door. his knuckles first brush the line of hawk's jaw, the crescent of his cheek, relishing the rough burn of overgrowth, and then he's in his hair, coarser where it clearly hasn't seen a brush in days, and then softer the deeper he pushes in. it's like pressing against a crack to widen it for a rare peek inside. hawkins fuller, real man.

he still smells like his cologne, some spiced, woodsy scent, and scotch and smoke, and all of it feeds directly into embry's brain just like how strauss is assaulting him now. the temperature of the room increases by several degrees, maybe just from body heat, and embry wants, wildly, to pull away, even as he notches his hand at the top of hawk's ribcage and forcefully shoves their hips together. his cock twitches, and he ignores it. ]

That's better form. [ he leans back, his spine curving in a graceful arc. if hawk wants him to be the goddamn woman, he'll be the goddamn woman. no one's going to best him at the viennese waltz while johann fucking strauss is watching. ] Try to keep up. The last man I did this with kept stepping on my toes.

[it's not that he wants to insult embry's dignity or force him into some sort of role he'd really balk against - but ironically, there's a part of him that wants embry to stop pretending to be something he isn't. hawk won't judge him for it - falling to his knees for a man, begging for the sweet wash of bliss in a moment of heady sexuality, letting his body shift into an elegant line as he takes a different position. there's nothing inherently weak in any of it - if anything, it takes a hell of a lot of power and bravery to live an honest truth. it was one of the things he both loved and dreaded about tim, the way his own inevitable lifestyle and defense mechanisms accumulated over years of hiding and thinking at least three chess pieces ahead would never slot together with it.

thinking about it now, it doesn't seem to brush that rigidly against embry's. there's a certain flow they've established that works for them - both smart and well-versed in reading between the lines when it comes to ulterior motives and the agendas hidden in a place like dc. but it's always dangerous for him to think like this - about the future, about something more than just drunken escapades and the two of them pushed to their limits and forced to find some kind of solace in places they pretend not to want.

it's why he doesn't pull away, instead letting his eyes slip closed for a moment and tipping into the touch first against his skin and then into the mess of curls that have long since been freed of the heavy styling creme he used for the funeral. yes, he is human after all.

his gaze slips down to where their hips are practically pressed to each other, knowing full well that might get a few points off if they were in a real ballroom about to glide across it instead of his living room, reeking with scotch and smoke and the fragrant scent of a spruce candle he'd thought to try burning earlier just to look at the flame fluttering and try to feel something. he does now - particularly with only two thin layers between them of silk and woven cotton against his own cock.]

Well in that case -

[his eyes are sparkling in the dim light, fixed firmly on his new dance partner and enough of the pall of mourning lifted with the cascade of notes coming through the record player.]

I'm not paying for the scuffs on those. Just in case.

Kick off your shoes.

[normally he'd leave it unsaid - but his voice softens a little as he waits for embry to do it and push them back against the wall.]

Stay awhile.

[and then his own leg shifts out, bare, as he starts the easy mental count of one, two, three and carefully begins leading embry across the parquet wood of his floor. it's light and easier than he thought it would be, and he's a little stiff himself, but all things considered it could be worse.]

[ why the hell had he come here again? it was definitely not to end up waltzing in hawk's living room, his memories tossing him between the past and present, grief embalming them both. he almost feels like he's in prague again, now a lifetime ago, looking into ash's eyes and falling, falling, falling, blissfully unaware of the wreckage awaiting him in his future.

he obeys without thinking of disobeying, and that bothers him only after he's already moving in his socked feet across hawk's floor, quiet syllables rumbling through his head. stay awhile. no idea what that means, except that the door is far away now, and he's glad he came because hawk needed someone and doesn't seem to have anyone. not that embry is in a spectacular place to judge. ]

You're not bad. [ it's better than admitting that he's good, that embry feels the thrill of his lost enjoyment returning to him like a cresting wave. ] Better than —

[ ash. fuck, he almost said his name, panic needle-sharp in his throat. he swallows, blinking too-bright eyes as his gaze drops to hawk's mouth. ]

Better than I expected.

[ it isn't exertion that has his breath quickening, but something else that blossoms like a stain inside of him, a senseless want taking hold the longer he keeps himself in hawk's orbit. so what if he's already used up his one chance to fuck hawk? he doesn't need to do that again, although he wouldn't turn it down. but there are still things they haven't done, and it's probably because hawk has no desire to, but embry finds that he does, because for all their tumultuous ups and downs, ash had spoiled embry with his kisses and then ruined him by taking them away.

hawk is no better, pointing out that embry should be kissed, and then just. not. embry knows, logically, that hawk doesn't want him in that way. that the sheen in hawk's eyes is because of shock and mourning and scotch. that the music and their mingling breaths and the firm press of their bodies isn't helping a goddamn thing right now. he should untangle himself and walk away. he's under no obligation to listen to hawk anyway.

instead he leans in, his heart in his throat, and catches hawk's lips against his, timing it as they round an armchair, his fingertips crushing silk as his palm slides out to hawk's back. ]

[normally he'd quip that he's got to be a hell of a lot better than the old ladies pinching embry's ass of days past, or asking if he endured marriage proposals in the middle of cotillion or whatever the ultra wealthy were putting their kids through these days - but he finds himself too taken by the fluid grace that embry moves with, the way he manages to look so goddamn delectable even when there's something conflicted in his eyes about all of this. maybe he's reconsidering what he thought about hawk being bulletproof - maybe he's just humoring a man nearing a decade older than him and no less pathetic for it, is what he might think if he were still drinking from the long since abandoned tumbler and sitting here alone.

but he's not alone now. because embry came, and despite all the things that hawk knows make him too smart for his own good, grating at best and downright infuriating at worst - he's still here, unprompted. on some level that must mean he cares. this doesn't feel like a pity offering, and even if it were maybe for once he doesn't give a shit because it's good and it stirs at memories that have long been dormant under the surface. it doesn't feel like there's strings he can't have attached and a heart to break - it exists outside of all that, even if it's just for this one simple moment waltzing in his living room with the man he works for but never below.

this is all terribly intimate in a way that should make him send embry backing or run for his own door to go to a bar and find a stranger, take those suggestions 1-4 after all and give him a win. except all it does is make him draw in closer - unable to pull himself away from staring at those plush lips that are begging to be kissed by someone sweeter than him. maybe that's who he danced with once upon a time, because it couldn't have been all old ladies. whoever it is doesn't matter to hawk now, not as he hears the soft hitch of breath and watches that vulnerability peeking through, beautiful and ripe for the taking.

only this time there's no initiative on his part - instead it's embry who closes the gap, and it sets hawk into a sudden frenzy of motion. the hunger he feels is no longer for the chinese sitting long forgotten in his kitchen, instead more of those nimble fingers against his body where his own slide around embry's waist and draw him in impossibly closer. all that so he can tip him back in a final flourish of a dip - using it to deepen the kiss and let one palm shift up to cradle the back of his head and tease against the soft hair tickling the back of his neck.

fuck, how did he go this long without ever doing it before? he'd meant what he said, that embry ought to be kissed often - but a part of him knew this would be more addictive than all the alcohol and cigarettes in this condo combined. hawk groans against him, tongue slipping inside his mouth with a sensual curl against embry's, tasting the velvet warmth of him so he can commit it to memory.]

[ he thought it might be over quickly, that hawk would entertain him for a moment and then put him back in his place. instead, the gravity of the room shifts, his mouth opening to a satin tongue as he hangs suspended in the cradle of hawk's arms. he knows hawk can feel his erection pressing against him through the flimsy fabric of his robe, desperation oiling his movements — he's clawing at hawk's back, his hand clenched damply in his, all of his previous elegance replaced by a rabid want.

it's a struggle to come back up when all he wants is to be horizontal now, but he swings upright only to stagger into hawk, mouths clashing, finally unknotting the front of his robe to allow it to hang open. his hands roam across bare skin, pressing his fingertips into all the lean, hard angles of his body, tracing the sharp cut of his hips and the rough trail leading between his legs.

abruptly, his mind catches up to him like a steel trap snapping shut. he pulls back like hawk's touch physically hurts, pink-cheeked and panting, the distant look in his eyes slowly focusing back onto the objects in the room. the record player. the armchair. the ashtray. hawk. he licks his lips, swallowing. christ, he is not okay.

stay awhile. like hell he will. ]

I've gotta — [ what? find a bottle of gin? jump in front of a goddamn bus? the record's still playing, and it feels like someone's tugging the bow of a violin directly across his nerve endings. ] I'll see you Monday.

[drunk or not, this is more than alright. it's not the first encounter they've had, and hawk certainly hopes it won't be the last. this tenuous thing between them has always hinged on embry's uncertainty - the pouty insistence that it would never happen again on account of hawk when hawk's actions have been fairly clear that he's open to breaking rules, or rather, letting embry be the one to push him to do it. like this kiss - much too personal for him to have offered during the hungry, biting rush of their first absent fuck, pure escapism and physicality between two strangers in a lonely night. the first time at lyonesse wasn't right either, proving a point and getting embry off to chase away whatever internal demons he seemed to be fighting a losing battle against until hawk pressed up against him and made a valiant effort to do it for him.

this is new territory for them both, and even in the midst of his grief-addled state hawk knows it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. much as he tried otherwise, he actually likes embry even on his worst days, and god knows he's more than his type from an aesthetic standpoint. hawk wasn't wrong about embry needing to be kissed and kissed often either, and his hands move around his waist once they're upright to start the slow traipse back towards his bedroom. there's a growing desperation to all of this he's seized by - whether it's a sudden will to make the most of this in light of what's happened around him in the last two days or just the fact that embry cared enough to come make this visit and draw him out of that shadowy well of despair, he doesn't know. he's not sure he cares either, and he's more than tempted to heft embry up into strong arms -

until he pulls away, looking like a fucking startled deer in the headlights. hawk's expecting an apology, maybe hesitation at the timing of it all - but that's not it at all.

his brows furrow briefly, except he can't muster the sharp judgment he'd normally push embry towards the right answer with in his current state. instead he just looks a little wounded, the wide sliver of his chest under the robe now hanging open rising and falling in a soft heave as he tries to catch his breath and understand what the hell this is.

why's he running? it's just him. it's not like this - means anything to embry.

does it?]

That's it?

[it comes out with less sardonicism than he'd like, sounding somehow small and a little distant instead. that doesn't suit him at all, so he steps in and reaches gently for one of embry's wrists, fingers curling around it with a light squeeze and a soft stroke of his thumb inward.]

You want to go, then I can't stop you.

But tell me why.

[why you don't want this now.]

And if you don't want to, then I'll just see you tomorrow anyway.

Edited (sleeby typo sry) 2024-02-25 16:39 (UTC)

[ he feels caught, trapped, and he knows it shows on his face, in the wild slant of his gaze, the skittish cadence of his heart. he's back at ash's feet, something vital threatening to implode inside of him as he tries to pull answers out that embry can't give. that's just the problem, isn't it? embry can't fucking give anything, because if someone cracked him open and had a look, they'd just find a tattered fucking minefield of dissolution and emptiness. a familiar spark of anger ignites within him, that he's here again, in a place where he wants and wants and wants, and he has to be the one to look hawk in the eye and say no.

it's a cosmic fucking joke, all his faithless years catching up to him yet again as some shitty deity in the sky points and laughs and shits directly on his head.

he's still desperately thinking of something to say, still repeating the same mantra from when ash had asked him to marry him both times — please don't make me do this — still trying to remember how to breathe in the face of hawkins fuller looking like a man down in front of him when hawk touches him again, his thumb stroking the erratic thrum of his pulse. embry feels the floor drop out from beneath his feet, but none of the other benefits, like disappearing from the fucking room. ]

Don't fucking ask me what you already know.

[ because he should say no. he should leave. hawk just lost someone, and throwing himself into his arms is the last thing he needs. when ash had lost jenny embry had sworn his fealty to him in every way imaginable, because he thought it was he'd needed, or at least he'd told himself that at the time, but really, embry had been so fucking lonely for seven years that he would have done anything to be back in his arms. anything but give ash what he'd really needed, and he still can't, and now look where they are.

he can see it all again with hawk, down to the fucking waltz.

the stroke of hawk's thumb lances fire against his skin, unimaginable heat. he should hold his ground, pull away from hawk's hold, do the right thing for once, but he stays where he is, because he can't help but feel like anything he does tonight will twist the knife further, just in a different direction. it's like being in carpathia all over again, his sister burning in a church and a bunch of kids dying on a boat and trying to minimize the damage to both. ]

You can stop me. [ take what you're owed is what he would say if ash were before him. it's what he wants to say now. ] I'm the one that came to you. And I said you're on leave until Monday.

[christ, maybe he does need another tumbler of scotch. shit, maybe even a double. it was a whirlwind like this with tim too once upon a time - moments of tenderness that suddenly turned into something ugly, exposing all the cracks and inherent flaws of their coupling with the visceral gut punch of reality. how did they get from waltzing across his living room to kissing like it was the very air needed in their lungs to embry with one foot or the door before the music stopped and the needle even slid off the record. the fear in his eyes is nothing but a fucking mystery to hawk - hawk who assumes embry has just backed himself into a corner and doesn't know how to get out of it.

maybe he's misread the entire situation and there was nothing there at all, just a convenience when it was needed and things have gotten too goddamn real now. maybe hawk's the one who backed himself into a corner and doesn't even realize it, pushing him too far to a point he didn't even realize was crossing a line. ash is the farthest thing from his mind right now in this state, instead taking a rare moment to look inward and take the blame for something he'd easily right off or see through.

don't fucking ask me what you already know, he says, and for a moment hawk's brows pinch in irritation that he doesn't fucking know - maybe he doesn't know anything anymore because that's how he feels in this moment.]

I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.

[how tragically ironic they're both being plagued by the ghosts of lost love and don't even know it - hawk feeling a pang of déjà vu even as the words come out of his mouth, remembering when he'd offered it to tim who just wanted to know him. only tim wanted more that hawk couldn't give him, here...maybe embry needs less. maybe he doesn't want anything at all.

then why the fuck did he come here in the first place? is what the rational side of his brain supplies. push him.]

And I certainly don't want you somewhere you don't wanna be.

[if he were in the proper spirits, he might offer a shitty ultimatum - get back over here and i'll take leave until monday. he's not a good man and he's not sure it's enough to start trying, but today he just can't put the puzzle pieces together on his own. his eyes can't hide it though - something desperate to understand, to culminate this back and forth at an inopportune time because nothing they've done has been anything less than fucking messy and wrong and maybe that's alright after all. his thumb shifts over the delicate inside of his wrist once more, along the veins and brushing up past the cut of his sleeve.

stay.]

You've got no obligation to me, Embry.

[ he wishes the music would stop. the needle is barely halfway across the record, picking at old wounds that still haven't healed even after years of recovery time — or maybe there's never been any recovery time at all, because he's never spent any substantial amount of time apart from ash. in any case, this is not the time to assess his battered emotional health, not when hawk is staring at him like he wants to throw him in his car and dump him somewhere to have him committed. ]

I want to.

[ the admittance comes in a hoarse rasp. christ, he wants, and he doesn't know if it's the edge of loneliness or if he's just attracted to grief. maybe he's just drawn to how familiar all of this is, slotting hawk into a place he shouldn't be.

he shivers at the slow brush of hawk's thumb, his eyes falling shut as he practically stifles a moan at those words. no obligation. it's the worst thing he could say, because it's absolution from his sins. it's permission to not give a damn about what's right or wrong. it feeds into his worst impulses and darkest desires, his carnal fucking lust for hawk to ravage him and for embry not to give a fuck how it makes either of them feel afterwards.

someone just died. he tries to keep repeating that, but hawk is so close, and so nearly naked, and if he just kisses him again, he can pretend just for now that he isn't alone, that he still has a little piece of ash's love.

fuck, it's wrong — and embry does it anyway, drawing hawk in with both hands cradling his cheeks until their mouths are pressed together once more. they'd taken steps toward hawk's bedroom before stopping, and now he pushes them toward the door with urgency. ]

I don't care where. [ breathless, between biting kisses, one hand slipping the fabric of hawk's robe down his shoulder. ] Fuck me or I'm gonna fuck you.

[well, at least he won't have to worry about a guilty conscience - dragging embry into something he doesn't want or god forbid is just doing out of sympathy. hawkins fuller has yet to have or receive a pity fuck in his life and he's certainly not about to start now. but the look on his face makes it seem like he's been winded just to have to admit it, the three little words breathy and quiet even as his body sings with the barest brush of contact along his pulse, the veins with hot blood pulsing south at the way embry positively needs it if this is all anything to go by. hawk doesn't say anything right away, wondering if embry might suddenly change his mind and try to run once more. only this time if he does - hawk won't let him, at least, not now that he knows what the fuck he actually wants.

has embry wanted it all this time? cloudy as his judgment and overall assessment of things is at the moment, hawk thought he'd made it fairly clear that he wasn't about to kick him out of bed if it happened again. so maybe a few handjobs and banter that would get either of them in the papers facing an eeoc violation isn't the clearest form of communication - but still. they aren't like the tim's and ash's of the world taking things at face value. for the first time since embry has set foot into this apartment and perceived his weakness, his sadness, his feelings - hawk actually cracks a smile. fleeting, brief, but enough to bring back a little bit of light to his eyes if embry can catch it.

before launching at hawk and resuming the best fucking part of this visit, anyway, and he responds in turn - not wasting any time with small talk or mincing words as he hungrily meets embry's mouth and even lets himself nip on that plush bottom lip to feel it thicken under his perfect teeth. his hands busy themselves peeling off his jacket, letting it catch at the bend of embry's elbow so he can briefly pull away and do what he's wanted to since embry walked in the goddamn door - slide down to his hips and then below the pert curve of his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around hawk's waist so he can lift him up in an easy heft.]

'Atta boy.

[his head tips back, curls following suit and robe halfway hanging off his chest as he carries embry back through the living room and the rounded gallery - into the sanctuary of his bedroom. it's warmer than the rest of the house, both more and less curated in different ways. but he's hoping there's not much time for sightseeing when he unceremoniously drops embry onto the bed and resumes yanking at his expensive designer jacket with little care for what dry cleaning will have to happen in the future that he'll inevitably be tasked with.]

Get rid of this shit.

[said breathily as hawk climbs on top of him, caging his body in and dipping to kiss hot along his jaw while he pulls off the tie and yanks open buttons to give himself better access.]

[ he's caught, his fate sealed even if he doesn't know who's the bigger sacrifice here. hawk might come to his senses later and realize that having embry moore means having nothing at all, worth no more than the lingering shadows of a snuffed candle. it's dirty pleasure to sustain him in the moment, to get him through a hard night, but embry isn't the one anyone stays for. not once they realize that the chase isn't worth the return.

but hawk hasn't realized that yet, evidenced by the eager drag of his mouth as embry's spine sinks into the bed. he's still rotating along hawk's axis, happy to be whatever he wants if it means getting what he wants, which is every part of hawk pressed directly against every part of him.

he has principles against following orders, but undressing aligns with his own wants, so he strips between desperate kisses and panting breaths, his clothes tossed to the floor piece by piece. he pulls at hawk's robe too, already mostly off his body, but he's mesmerized by the shimmering silk sliding off his tense, muscled frame. the fabric pools around embry's bare legs, tenting over his erection. embry crushes a handful of silk in his fist, his eyes fluttering with dark anticipation and unbridled lust, and, while staring directly at hawk, jacks his cock with silk as smooth as water. ]

Hope you don't mind.

[ embry lets out a breathless chuckle, tapering off into a moan as his hand drags upwards, the plummy silk wrinkled and beginning to stain from his leaking cock. there's a spark of defiance in his eyes now, like even if hawk does mind, embry wouldn't necessarily care. he wants hawk's attention on him, whether it's good or bad or even knowing it's not something he should be pursuing at all, not when hawk is hurt and embry keeps hearing ash in the strains of music still coming from the other room. he was battered before he even walked in here, has been since the moment he realized ash was about to be ripped away from him again, and now that he suddenly has a chance to feel alive once more, he's too selfish to give this up, too.

hawk's robe is a crushed mess in his hand, his hips rocking against the ball of silk, soft and messy and visceral at once, and he could come just like this if he wasn't so keen on hawk fucking him. ]

[this feels different than the other times they've come remotely close. the intimacy of the waltz, the kiss - the lack of real authority behind hawk's demands. and sure, some of it is because part of his brain is still addled with grief, grateful to have something else to launch his focus into that's both pleasurable and will exhaust him enough to actually get some goddamn sleep by the time he's done with it, not to mention getting him to put down bottles of alcohol for an extended duration. but another part of it is because he does want this - has wanted it for awhile. embry in a proper bed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and lips bitten cherry red because hawk has him face-to-face for a change.

(the helpful, still witty part of his mind supplies that he can finally prove himself to be a face man once and for all, god bless america.)

his grip shifts to get embry naked as fast as humanly possible, palms greedily cupping along his immaculate abdomen and the supple flesh of his ass, trailing down to toned thighs and hooking both hands under his knees so he can spread them apart and get a good view at his pretty pink cock already hard and practically dripping with need. fuck, he's gorgeous, and hawk sucks in an audible breath, burying himself against the juncture of embry's neck and shoulder to inhale the scent of sweat and cologne, nipping at his jugular like a hint of the way he's tempted to mark him up.

at least, until he feels his robe pull off entirely, catching on something part of the way down.

oh. well doesn't that just zing straight down to his own dick, twitching with want. his nostrils flare around a breath, eyes boring straight into embry's as his hand reaches down and nudges the other man's away, wrapping around silk and the sensitive flesh beneath and sliding it in a slow, deliberate motion to drive him as wild as hawk feels right now devouring it. the pace picks up slightly with a low, appreciative hum, hawk leaning down to steal another filthy kiss before he answers.]

Not at all. You gonna leave me another present, huh?

[he's got every intention to fuck embry, but there's something appealing about watching him fall apart first - get loose and boneless and fucking beautiful under him with bliss. his hand picks up speed, twisting the soft fabric around the damp spot he can already feel under a thumb. his free hand grips at embry's waist hard enough to bruise, encouraging him to keep grinding up into it, to let himself get needy while hawk's got him right where he wants him.]

Edited 2024-02-28 06:38 (UTC)

[ he fights against his pleasure just because now hawk is delivering it, trying to clench his muscles tight in obstinate rebellion, but it's been too long and it's too good surrounded by soft silk and the heady, earthy scent that's uniquely hawk. embry has been in a lot of strange beds before — although less, in his years with ash and even in the broken aftermath that followed — and it's easy to fall back into this when they're both so willing to go to a place where thinking is secondary and forgetting is everything. the only thing that matters is the bruising press of hawk's fingers, the torturous grind of silk. embry's breath spins out of him like thread, a flush staining his cheeks. ]

Shit.

[ his hips jerk into the warm press of silk, and then he's soaking it with a shudder, coming embarrassingly fast as if he's never had sex in his life. the truth is he hasn't had actual sex in months now — staunchly not counting whatever happened at lyonesse — not since ash proposed and embry saw his life flash before his eyes and felt his heart go leaden in his chest. he hasn't been himself, returning to the familiar husk that he transforms to when he's detached from ash's side. it's not that he doesn't want it, but that he can't imagine anyone else's dark hair and piercing eyes and kingly jaw but ash's, and even when he thinks he can try to close his eyes and pretend, he just ends up scraped out and hollow before he can even begin.

and then there's hawk. hawk, who's always around, with his own set of dark hair and piercing eyes, and this aura of fucking mystery that embry can't quite crack. he's a distraction, but a welcome one, because embry is tired of drowning in his own sadness. for once hawk might be sadder than he is, and embry is horribly, spitefully glad for it, if only for a split second before guilt lances him and he remembers what a shitty fucking human being he is. he buries the sound that keens out of him just beneath hawk's ear, fisting his hair in dark curls and pulling him down, half for fear that hawk might see the truth on his face. ]

Changed my mind. I want to fuck you, with your face in the sheets, until your ass is raw. [ he sounds almost tender as he says it, hazy from his orgasm, his panting breaths warm against hawk's stubbled jaw. he rolls his hips into hawk's, the damp silk crushed between them, shivering at the sensation. ] I want to come all over you and make you clean yourself up.

Edited 2024-02-29 03:48 (UTC)

[embry looks so fucking good like that - laid out for hawk to debauch at his leisure. part of him almost thinks about dragging it out, making him beg for it and edging him until tears prick the corners of those astounding baby blues. but maybe he's feeling some measure of tender too, that or just hollowed out enough to want to be filled with someone sort of satisfaction or feeling besides numbness that he just lets it happen with murmured words of encouragement. his wrist twists at the tip on every jerk, hand pressed tight enough around the silk that there's no way every inch of him isn't getting the sensation of slippery decadence enveloping his cock.]

Yeah, yeah, come on - that's it. Let it all out for me, oh yeah.

[there's a slightly mocking chuckle that slips out in between it all, watching embry's hips writhing for more and knowing it hasn't been long at all to have drawn this out of him. maybe hawk doesn't know he's gone without - god knows he hasn't entirely, though it's not like he's got much free time these days - but he knows how long it's been since his hand was in a similar position and they did this together, which is surprisingly more than he thought it might take. maybe he should be offended it took senator smith dying to bring them back together like this, but that would mean admitting to something he's not sure exists between them at all.

it really is a shame when embry pulls him down and makes him miss whatever his face beautifully contorts into, blunt crescents of his nails scraping against his scalp lightly as his fingers tug at soft curls as eagerly as hawk watches the eggplant silk darken with a growing wet spot. he pulls it off, absently wondering if he's going to save it as is or take it to the dry cleaners with no explanation and a fist full of extra bills for discretion and extra treatment. frankly, the former is more appealing than he'd like to admit, and hawk nearly shivers at the delicious noise embry stifles against his skin while considering the option of it. all that before his lips find another spot on his neck, laving his tongue across it before nipping lightly with a low noise of approval.

he pulls back ever so slightly, if only because he wants to get a good look at the mess he made without a barrier now even if it was one that was expensive and elegant - fingers trailing across the glistening remnants of his orgasm and lifting to his own mouth to lick it away like an expensive hors d'oeuvre. he'd do it again if everything didn't grind to a halt with embry's sudden interest in switching it up, and hawk pulls back further with something unreadable in his expression, gauging if this is just a joke to him or if he's really serious.]

That's supposed to be my line.

[his hand trails absently up the line of one of embry's thighs, across his waist and up toned abs to tweak at one pretty pink nipple before reaching to cup his jaw with an equal amount of surprising softness to match what he hears in the younger man's voice. it'd be a lie to say he wasn't seriously considering it - even if only for a fleeting moment. even if embry is only the second man to be invited into this bed, and even if he'd be the second to take him apart from the inside out like that. but embry's not the only one with a detachment he's trying to maintain, a heart that's hardened unwillingly.

so he does what he always does, even if the smirk doesn't wholly reach his eyes this once.]

I think the lady doth protest. Or at least, project.

[that doesn't stop him from returning the slow grind, skin against heated and hard skin with a low groan.]

Maybe I want to see you this time.

[his finger tugs up from that immaculate jaw, grazing across plush lips and pulling at the bottom one until he feels the wetness of saliva before pushing inward and seeing if embry will take it or bite down petulantly.]

[ 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. ]

Edited 2024-03-02 13:31 (UTC)

[it shouldn't be funny - but maybe they're just destined to be haunted by the ghosts of former lovers, gone in the immediate sense, but never the lingering remnants that could be triggered by any sense at the most inopportune of moments. hawk is already as vulnerable as it gets, half considering embry's sudden insistence to be the one to actually take control for a change without even knowing what it meant the last time hawk gave it to someone. and he damn sure doesn't know he's the only other person short of the surgeons and today's dead man himself to trace the ugly gash on his shoulderblade, fingertips trailing the ridged edges with a softness that he probably doesn't deserve - and he didn't back then with the way he ultimately abandoned tim, or the doctors that treated him like glass for months after the fact - fuck.

he wishes he had a cigarette. instead, he dips down to shut embry up for a minute with another kiss and try to gain composure from the moment of silence that's lasted a beat too long and the spasm that surely washed across his face, too hard to miss this intimately close with embry underneath him. he pulls back, voice low and rough and hating that it seems like he's still stalling and ignoring the other question.]

Yeah.

[his saliva-coated fingers bypass the rest of embry's immaculate form underneath him, only so he can ghost across his barely dried cock and cup around his balls, teasing at the tempting part between his thighs without any real inclination to breech him just yet. maybe he wants to see how much a fight he'll put up for what he supposedly wants, or so hawk doesn't have to feel guilty denying someone else one thing they've asked for quite so plainly in his bed. can't you just take me to dinner? tim had asked him with an earnestness he'll never forget.]

I was a sergeant. Velletri - I know I told you that before at least. Me and four of my men were ambushed by a squad of Carpathian bastards weeks before we were supposed to get shipped home.

[hawk's jaw tightens hard, eyes narrowing to avoid growing misty even as he knows his cheek is clenched and he must look painfully obvious in blaming himself for all of it.]

I took as much of it as I could up front - all the big guns - doctors told me it was lucky it tore right through.

[it's funny too, how years have passed and the smell of gunpowder and smoke and blood never really feels like it's fully left his nostrils.]

Two of my best...they weren't so lucky. Probably still pieces of 'em scattered on the Cisterna Campoleone, Christ.

[he shakes his head, desperately wishing he could wrap his lips around a filter right now. and sure, the story could stop there, but he's a fucking runaway train now and why not just finish it off and let embry know what he's walked into? give him a chance to walk out while he can.]

Senator Smith got the best surgeons for me without a word - I had maybe a dozen operations or so. Little cabin up in Delaware to recover, but we both know it's never just about letting a body rest.

[there's the ptsd, the self-loathing, the night terrors - the general way he'd felt unfit to come back to polite society for some time. but he shrugs it off, glancing up at embry and utterly deadpanning:]

Sexy, right?

[ he gets it. he gets it more than anyone, because once ash had gotten his head on straight, after he'd held him down by the scruff of his neck and punished him for treating his life like cannon fodder, for getting himself shot and nearly killed, embry had started to see everything differently. he'd seen the good that he could do in those little villages. he'd seen what risks were worth taking and which ones came from the hollow place in his chest urging him to end it all. ash had filled him up, changed him, made him believe in something.

he realizes abruptly that what embry has felt without him, twisting endlessly in the wind, is what hawk feels right now with senator smith suddenly gone from this world. he doesn't know what it's like to care for a father figure, because he doesn't remember his own father, and is ambivalent at best toward morgan's. but he knows what it's like to hurt, and to need someone, and for them to be gone.

hawk's wayward fingers pull a ragged breath out of him, and embry decides that whatever hawk needs tonight is what he'll give. after jenny died, ash had demanded almost more than embry thought he had in him, nearly to the point that he'd considered, briefly, that they might need a safe word after all. he doesn't have any real evidence that hawk could be the same, but he does know that he can't leave him alone, and more importantly, he doesn't want to. ]

Yeah. Real sexy.

[ but he says it in a way that says a dozen other things, like i understand, and i still have nightmares, too, and i'm sorry. he knows hawk knows whatever's on his record better than embry himself, the skirmish he'd been caught in, the bullets he'd taken, how ash had carried him on his back to safety and made all the major american news outlets in doing so. he just doesn't know what happened in the darkness of the carpathian woods that night, and embry intends to keep it that way.

he answers the rest with a hand on hawk's jaw, his fingers running along the rough growth of stubble before drawing him into a kiss, deep and insistent, pressing his tongue into hawk's mouth as if he can touch every single part of him. ]

Changed my mind again. [ he whispers into hawk's mouth, pressing his hips up into hawk's hand. ] Take everything you need. I'm good for it.

[the real secret he's kept locked up tighter than goddamn fort knox? is that hawkins fuller has a surprisingly soft center - like some fucking milk chocolate meltaway. it's only by his own efforts that everyone knows he's a ruthless bastard who plays the dc game with the best of them - he's just learned the art of a pleasant smile and a handshake while he holds the knife behind his back to stab them when it counts. he knows when to cash in his favors, play it close to the chest, and offer a helping hand so he doesn't come across like a total tool. but he's no stranger to getting his hands dirty for the sake of the greater good, and it's not as fucking noble or heroic as the movies and even tim tried to make it seem once upon a time. tim, who he only barely confessed his closeness to senator smith to - tim who saw through the ugly parts and spent nights cradled in his arms, peppered with kisses and affection no one else would recognize.

there's a man in there somewhere that he would have been, if it weren't for his father and kenny and the world they live in. in some ways, senator smith had cemented that too - the notion that real love does nothing but bring pain to the people you care about. vulnerabilities of any kind are a risk that are too fucking high to pay.

which is why it's a terrible idea to let himself go down this route with embry. to have already broken one of his cardinal rules - kissing him like the air in his lungs was a natural resource that only passed through embry's plush lips. confiding war stories in him that not even his mandated government therapist ever knew the full scope of. but something about all of embry's sharp edges and hidden layers makes hawk want to unravel them piece by piece - even if he knows they're likely wrapped up in ash and greer. normally pretty faces and tragic pasts would make him run clear the opposite direction, but for every amount embry bristles at his sometimes overbearing professional responsibilities that aren't entirely for the sake of the job, there is something alluring that makes hawk want to get closer.

like right now, when he arches up against the hardness hawk's had ever since embry stripped out of his suit and kisses him with a heat that's contagious - that has hawk pressing down against him, fingers feather light up his rib cage while his free hand cups at the nape of his neck to deepen it. god, he could do this all night. nearly as addicting as the numbness that comes from the bottom of a bottle of scotch these last few days - better, if he's honest with himself.]

Yeah?

[it comes out in an amused rasp that's only half-authentic, a little smirk that doesn't fully reach his eyes. this is so different than their first go around - all rough, sloppy and without a care for anything beyond pleasure pricked with an edge of pain. but this? it's intimate. hawk already knows he wants to do this the right way, slow and measured where they can both fall apart and feel raw both mentally and physically when it's all said and done. it's why he reaches over to his nightstand, fumbling with something in the top shelf before his fingers come back glistening.]

Might wear you out, you know.

[he trails his clean hand down embry's front until he reaches one of his thighs, pressing it upwards to spread his legs a little further. there's a pause, like he wants to say something - and he does, maybe, if he wasn't so goddamn wounded and fucked up and trying to hold it together. instead he dips down again for another hungry kiss, nipping at embry's lips and making his way down along his jawline the moment two slick fingers press against the tight furl of his hole and start to push in. it's not soft, but it's more than he did for him the last time, that's for damn sure. hawk hums, low and almost amused at how tight he feels as he laves his tongue along embry's jugular in lieu of something lewd.]

[ this is something new, a side of hawk he hasn't been privy to until this point, and he's drawn in like hawk's gouged a hook in him. he hasn't had this kind of tender fragility in god knows how long. embry hasn't had anything, ruined like bruised fruit left out in the sun too long. this probably isn't the time to tell hawk he hasn't had sex since ash asked him to marry him and he choked out a lie about why he couldn't. there's never going to be a good time for that.

but it is a good time for this — for him to spread his legs wider and take hawk's fingers with a low grunt, his pulse fluttering against the hot press of hawk's tongue at his throat. he bears down until he feels the base of hawk's knuckles, savoring the sudden burn and eager to be stretched out for his cock. if hawk doesn't fuck him — christ. embry might actually have to fire him. ]

It takes more than you think to wear me out.

[ but hawk is talented. the second he starts curling his fingers, embry sees sparks, his spine arching off the mattress as hawk plays him like a goddamn instrument until his body sings and embry is gasping for breath. his cock weeps between them, and embry sneaks a hand out to squeeze at the base, staving off his pleasure so he doesn't come again as embarrassingly quick as before. blindly, he curls his fingers around a fistful of hawk's dark hair, pulling him down for a hot, messy kiss, his hand letting go of his own cock to seek out hawk's, wrapping a firm hand around his length for a hard stroke.

it’s fascinating to look at him like this, to see hawkins fuller with lust painted across his agonizingly handsome face. embry traces the line of one dark brow, then swipes his thumb gently at the shadows beneath his red-rimmed eye, as if he can erase the evidence of his grief. the best he can do is kiss him again, his hand lazily jacking his cock to draw this out, to chase away everything they’re trying to forget — ash, the senator, the mistake they’re making.

hawk’s fingers brush up against something that has embry shuddering into the kiss, keening out a curse as he very nearly gives up his attempts not to come, cruelly abusing the sensitive slit of hawk’s cock in retaliation with a grind of his thumb. ]

Shit. Fuck me, Hawk. [ the kiss breaks as he turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. ] Come on. Please.

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[POLITICAL AIDE AU]

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