Besides this? [ embry gestures to the bruising along his cheekbone, and raises his brow in lieu of responding to the rest of hawk's inquiry, ignoring it the best he can. ] I'm okay.
[ trying to get a read on hawkins fuller is like trying to read his fortune in the goddamn clouds. embry has made his living on deconstructing motivation, emotion, character, but if he put hawk in a script, he'd be fucked. or — he just needs more time. more time watching him, talking to him, observing all his ticks and movements, like the brief flash of unsteadiness he spies that embry chalks up to the grisly state of his trailer, or the way he transforms into all business the second embry asks for help undressing.
he wants to know more, and he tells himself it's not because of any other reason but to stay on top. because hawk can't fuck him if embry fucks him first. ]
Sure. I'll just be a minute.
[ and with the image of hawk's perfectly shaped ass disappearing behind a closed door, his victory is secured. embry leans over, peering through a crack in the blinds to see hawk descending the steps, his fingers swiping across his phone while his other hand carefully cradles the box. the timing couldn't be better.
he dives back into his closet, opening up the vanity drawer affixed to the wall and goes through his collection of watches, opening up boxes until he finds the one that morgan gifted him exactly seven birthdays ago, the one with the broken face that he keeps out of sheer sentiment. stashed beneath the velvety flap is a baggie of ketamine, which he takes a generous snort of before wiping off the vanity, hurriedly changing his clothes, and then stuffing the bag into the pocket of his jeans. the high hits him within minutes, his tension chased away by airy lightness, his muscles relaxing, the tightness in his brows easing.
he leaves his dirtied costume on the rumpled bed, but pauses to retrieve hawk's handkerchief, briefly lifting it to his nose for a deep inhale, blood and all. the metallic scent mingles with hawk's cologne, and he's suddenly annoyed that he'd gotten his way, because in another scenario hawk would have undressed him and something else might have happened.
maybe that's just the ket talking. embry opens the door, grabbing a pair of sunglasses to drop over his eyes as he descends the steps, bouncing up beside hawk and waving his phone. ]
Vivienne wants me checked out by her doctors. [ he shrugs, reaching out to slip the box from hawk's hand to his, though he handles it much less carefully than hawk had been. ] She Facetimed me inside and saw my face. I told her it's not a big deal but she's not happy. I'll see you later, okay? Car's waiting for me.
no subject
[ trying to get a read on hawkins fuller is like trying to read his fortune in the goddamn clouds. embry has made his living on deconstructing motivation, emotion, character, but if he put hawk in a script, he'd be fucked. or — he just needs more time. more time watching him, talking to him, observing all his ticks and movements, like the brief flash of unsteadiness he spies that embry chalks up to the grisly state of his trailer, or the way he transforms into all business the second embry asks for help undressing.
he wants to know more, and he tells himself it's not because of any other reason but to stay on top. because hawk can't fuck him if embry fucks him first. ]
Sure. I'll just be a minute.
[ and with the image of hawk's perfectly shaped ass disappearing behind a closed door, his victory is secured. embry leans over, peering through a crack in the blinds to see hawk descending the steps, his fingers swiping across his phone while his other hand carefully cradles the box. the timing couldn't be better.
he dives back into his closet, opening up the vanity drawer affixed to the wall and goes through his collection of watches, opening up boxes until he finds the one that morgan gifted him exactly seven birthdays ago, the one with the broken face that he keeps out of sheer sentiment. stashed beneath the velvety flap is a baggie of ketamine, which he takes a generous snort of before wiping off the vanity, hurriedly changing his clothes, and then stuffing the bag into the pocket of his jeans. the high hits him within minutes, his tension chased away by airy lightness, his muscles relaxing, the tightness in his brows easing.
he leaves his dirtied costume on the rumpled bed, but pauses to retrieve hawk's handkerchief, briefly lifting it to his nose for a deep inhale, blood and all. the metallic scent mingles with hawk's cologne, and he's suddenly annoyed that he'd gotten his way, because in another scenario hawk would have undressed him and something else might have happened.
maybe that's just the ket talking. embry opens the door, grabbing a pair of sunglasses to drop over his eyes as he descends the steps, bouncing up beside hawk and waving his phone. ]
Vivienne wants me checked out by her doctors. [ he shrugs, reaching out to slip the box from hawk's hand to his, though he handles it much less carefully than hawk had been. ] She Facetimed me inside and saw my face. I told her it's not a big deal but she's not happy. I'll see you later, okay? Car's waiting for me.