[ There's a strangled sound, muffled around Hawk's tongue, a low moan from the moment he breaches his hole. The sensation is familiar and cherished, the stretch of thick, strong fingers filling him up making him sigh with relief the first moment he can get a breath in, between the deep, brain-addling kisses. Tim's hands fist in his hair as he squirms, not from discomfort but from the craving for more, trying to rock back and fuck himself deeper on Hawk's fingers, but not quite getting there, pinned down by his weight as he is. ]
Good. [ Single words between pants, nodding back, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he sinks deeper into this space, the one only Hawk can put him in, where all things beyond the two of them slip from his mind. Whatever he ate at the party, whatever's made him cold, doesn't matter a bit once Hawk curls his fingers into that spot that makes him unravel, makes his mouth fall open with a cry that's almost a scream, in direct proportion to how badly Tim needs it. ] God. Hawk.
[ It's hard to tell the difference when he's like this, looming over him with his sweet words, his promises of heavenly bliss, rewarding Tim's devotion with what feels like all the love in the world. He doesn't have to say it for it to be known, it just is, inherent and obvious enough for him to believe in and hold as a steadying constant, through every unanswered prayer or broken promise. It doesn't scare him to hold Hawk up on such a holy pedestal, to relinquish himself to him, body and soul.
It used to, because it's never just sex, for Tim. When it's cheap and tawdry, it's a shameful reminder of his own shortcomings, his desperation and lack of self-control. With Hawk though, it means something, he's managed to unlearn the shame and turn it into something else, to make even the filthiest things he can think of seem sacred. ]
More. Daddy, please. Please fuck me.
[ Writhing beneath him, so desperate to push his fingers a little deeper that he's forgotten to take the cross from around his neck. ]
no subject
Good. [ Single words between pants, nodding back, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he sinks deeper into this space, the one only Hawk can put him in, where all things beyond the two of them slip from his mind. Whatever he ate at the party, whatever's made him cold, doesn't matter a bit once Hawk curls his fingers into that spot that makes him unravel, makes his mouth fall open with a cry that's almost a scream, in direct proportion to how badly Tim needs it. ] God. Hawk.
[ It's hard to tell the difference when he's like this, looming over him with his sweet words, his promises of heavenly bliss, rewarding Tim's devotion with what feels like all the love in the world. He doesn't have to say it for it to be known, it just is, inherent and obvious enough for him to believe in and hold as a steadying constant, through every unanswered prayer or broken promise. It doesn't scare him to hold Hawk up on such a holy pedestal, to relinquish himself to him, body and soul.
It used to, because it's never just sex, for Tim. When it's cheap and tawdry, it's a shameful reminder of his own shortcomings, his desperation and lack of self-control. With Hawk though, it means something, he's managed to unlearn the shame and turn it into something else, to make even the filthiest things he can think of seem sacred. ]
More. Daddy, please. Please fuck me.
[ Writhing beneath him, so desperate to push his fingers a little deeper that he's forgotten to take the cross from around his neck. ]