[ah, if only tim knew. no - there were no women to be wooed, no one who he'd practiced such a motion on before. there's never been another besides kenneth, his sweet little knight who had been gone so early on in the battle after following him near immediately after his departure despite insistence otherwise. there's a start when he realizes this might be the first time kenny has felt truly far away, and frankly, a memory of happier times before bloodshed and battlefields made a real man out of him. there is a spark of something else here, something undeniable that he knows better than to comment on so soon even if he wishes to bring it to light and ask if counselor laughlin notices it too.
his fingers linger only for the briefest moment, not wishing to dirty his hair even if he imagines only sisyphus with his rock uphill must have a more difficult task than to pull away from those tempting tendrils of chestnut. hawk takes this stolen moment to bask in the simple pleasure of looking at tim up close - the strong shape of his nose, the slight crease between his brows, his lashes thick and dark behind the slim gold encasing his lenses. what might he look like without those? or with his hair up in a chignon like a fair maiden, wisps of curls falling delicately along his back? the palace is full of rich tapestries, stonework and arches and architecture that would impress someone with even less awareness than hawk - and yet the most enticing thing hawk has seen since he's set foot in here is tim himself.
the moment is all too short-lived when tim steps back and seemingly breaks the trance he'd found himself in, wondering if the other man felt it too up close. maybe he only pulled away from the sheer tension between them, the knowledge that any longer and they both might have done something foolish. or maybe hawk is letting the ideas his father had tried to beat out of him come to the surface, impossible to be broken when a pretty faced brunette is in his line of sight. it's tempting to reach for his hand once more, but if nothing else the way he's soiled at the moment stops him from imposing such filth on a well-dressed man who looks as though he could be a member of the very court hawk is meant to debut at later this week. hawk follows him as if connected by an invisible string, gaze never straying from tim's form even among the sumptuous surroundings that are far more appealing than even his family's abode.
it's hard not to imagine him lounging on a pillow under the sheer flutter of the drapes, stretched out with his head in a book or the papers he dutifully carries. are his chambers so luxurious? they ought to be, if this is the caliber of man he's to be learning from. hawk spares a moment to look up then at the opening in the ceiling, sunlight casting an angelic glow on tim as he kneels down to further ignite the heat of his baths as well as underneath his skin for the way hawk suddenly feels himself drawn to that wide sliver of a muscled thigh and toned legs that he wishes he could feel beneath his fingertips.]
Cinnamon.
[it's out of his mouth before he can stop it - thinking about what he had smelled on tim mere moments ago.]
Cinnamon - spices and musk and all things woodsy, if you might have those on hand.
[hawk saunters forward, bypassing the changing screen altogether and instead pulling off his filthy tunic in one swift motion. there's a mottled gash at the back of his left shoulder, oozing blood from the jagged lines of skin that he doesn't let himself wince at as he keeps moving forward towards the baths - and tim himself - with a determination and a twinkle in his eyes. his hands sling to the belt with his broadsword and smaller knife, his gloves tucked into a pocket and whiskey in a container up back. it's all dropped unceremoniously as hawk stands near the edge of the baths, dragging down leather and chainmail all at once across sweat and blood and firm muscle honed in more than just battle. he offers a wry tip of his head to tim before letting himself take a step into the water, naked as the day he was born without much care for decency or modesty.
what has he to hide, really?
a few more steps and he finds the built in ledge, resting his back against it with a low groan as his head tips back and warm water envelops his body and realizes he's been holding off the aches of the fights for some time now. this is - heavenly. or it would be even moreso if- ]
Come here, Counselor.
[one eye winks open, a hand raising lazily to pat at the ledge near his head.]
It's divine. You ought to feel it yourself, even if it's just to wet your toes while we speak.
no subject
his fingers linger only for the briefest moment, not wishing to dirty his hair even if he imagines only sisyphus with his rock uphill must have a more difficult task than to pull away from those tempting tendrils of chestnut. hawk takes this stolen moment to bask in the simple pleasure of looking at tim up close - the strong shape of his nose, the slight crease between his brows, his lashes thick and dark behind the slim gold encasing his lenses. what might he look like without those? or with his hair up in a chignon like a fair maiden, wisps of curls falling delicately along his back? the palace is full of rich tapestries, stonework and arches and architecture that would impress someone with even less awareness than hawk - and yet the most enticing thing hawk has seen since he's set foot in here is tim himself.
the moment is all too short-lived when tim steps back and seemingly breaks the trance he'd found himself in, wondering if the other man felt it too up close. maybe he only pulled away from the sheer tension between them, the knowledge that any longer and they both might have done something foolish. or maybe hawk is letting the ideas his father had tried to beat out of him come to the surface, impossible to be broken when a pretty faced brunette is in his line of sight. it's tempting to reach for his hand once more, but if nothing else the way he's soiled at the moment stops him from imposing such filth on a well-dressed man who looks as though he could be a member of the very court hawk is meant to debut at later this week. hawk follows him as if connected by an invisible string, gaze never straying from tim's form even among the sumptuous surroundings that are far more appealing than even his family's abode.
it's hard not to imagine him lounging on a pillow under the sheer flutter of the drapes, stretched out with his head in a book or the papers he dutifully carries. are his chambers so luxurious? they ought to be, if this is the caliber of man he's to be learning from. hawk spares a moment to look up then at the opening in the ceiling, sunlight casting an angelic glow on tim as he kneels down to further ignite the heat of his baths as well as underneath his skin for the way hawk suddenly feels himself drawn to that wide sliver of a muscled thigh and toned legs that he wishes he could feel beneath his fingertips.]
Cinnamon.
[it's out of his mouth before he can stop it - thinking about what he had smelled on tim mere moments ago.]
Cinnamon - spices and musk and all things woodsy, if you might have those on hand.
[hawk saunters forward, bypassing the changing screen altogether and instead pulling off his filthy tunic in one swift motion. there's a mottled gash at the back of his left shoulder, oozing blood from the jagged lines of skin that he doesn't let himself wince at as he keeps moving forward towards the baths - and tim himself - with a determination and a twinkle in his eyes. his hands sling to the belt with his broadsword and smaller knife, his gloves tucked into a pocket and whiskey in a container up back. it's all dropped unceremoniously as hawk stands near the edge of the baths, dragging down leather and chainmail all at once across sweat and blood and firm muscle honed in more than just battle. he offers a wry tip of his head to tim before letting himself take a step into the water, naked as the day he was born without much care for decency or modesty.
what has he to hide, really?
a few more steps and he finds the built in ledge, resting his back against it with a low groan as his head tips back and warm water envelops his body and realizes he's been holding off the aches of the fights for some time now. this is - heavenly. or it would be even moreso if- ]
Come here, Counselor.
[one eye winks open, a hand raising lazily to pat at the ledge near his head.]
It's divine. You ought to feel it yourself, even if it's just to wet your toes while we speak.