[ Hawk's tongue is a nice contrast from the sticky-sweet boozy taste coating his mouth, and he swallows around it, savoring the very welcome intrusion with a long, needy keening noise, rumbling against his tongue. His mouth chases after Hawk's when he pulls away, demanding another, and another. Short and sweet kisses, so sweet, like the last few weeks have been from morning to night. They've been together more often than they haven't and Tim only wants him more for it. It feels so blissfully normal, going out to see some friends, and coming back to Hawk waiting.
Is this how other couples feel, all the time? How can their hearts hold all that love at once? ]
I don't think it's the liquor, I think it's you.
[ Tim would want him just as badly sober, he's sure. He just wouldn't be so explicit about it, so demanding. He'd let Hawk run with his own ideas, which have never failed to thrill him and awaken yearnings in him which he hadn't even known existed. Going along with Hawk's desires have always, miraculously, mirrored his own. Tim doesn't think he could say no to anything, not with the way his body reacts to him as if it were made to, tenting in his pants right here where anyone could see then. ]
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Is this how other couples feel, all the time? How can their hearts hold all that love at once? ]
I don't think it's the liquor, I think it's you.
[ Tim would want him just as badly sober, he's sure. He just wouldn't be so explicit about it, so demanding. He'd let Hawk run with his own ideas, which have never failed to thrill him and awaken yearnings in him which he hadn't even known existed. Going along with Hawk's desires have always, miraculously, mirrored his own. Tim doesn't think he could say no to anything, not with the way his body reacts to him as if it were made to, tenting in his pants right here where anyone could see then. ]
Hurry.