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Told you I'm on my way. heading down to the second floor now, I'll be 10 mojites

minutes.

Gonna meet you halfway. Then it's only five.

[and what happens when it's five minutes and he sees tim stumbling down the hall, determination even in his sluggishly uncoordinated movements? hawk can't help the way he pauses from across the way, lips stretching into a grin and eyes sparkling brightly with an affection that's plain as day. there's no one in the halls right now, so there's no need for him to check over his shoulder as he quickens his pace and meets tim halfway. everyone's still at the party he'd skipped, tucked into bed, or maybe dancing away the night and their sins downstairs in underworld.

as for him? he's unbearably fond as he takes in a drunk and needy tim, not even asking before he bends to swoop him up into his arms and lean in for a hungry kiss.]

Hi, Skippy. Your escort's here.

[ Tim doesn't pause for a second when he sees Hawk from the other end of the long hall, his feet fly in front of him as if he hasn't got a choice in the matter, drawn in like a magnet. He doesn't look behind him, or around, or listen for voices or footsteps of anyone who might see them. Only forward, only Hawk. That's all that matters.

He lets Hawk pick him up with a big, drunken laugh, and leans right in to meet him. It's a little sloppy, tastes like tequila and ambiguously blue-flavored margarita mix, but he's eager, wrapping his arms around Hawk's shoulders without missing a beat, hand snaking up the side of his head to pinch playfully at his earlobe. His hands are cold, which is a side effect of the party drinks he hasn't clocked as such, since talking to Hawk has done wonders to rewarm the blood pumping through him, heat up the core of him with fantasies of letting him come inside him over and over and over. ]

Hi. [ Purred against his mouth, refusing to pull too far away, and chasing Hawk's mouth if he tries. ] You're gonna carry me home?

[there's a low groan of satisfaction against tim's lips, hawk resisting the urge to shiver when those tricky fingers tickle at his ear. they are surprisingly cold, a contrast the the usual warmth he's gotten accustomed to over the last few weeks of bliss basically living and bedding down with tim. even with everything he knows, there's something contagious about the amount of devotion in his every action. it makes hawk want to do more than just satisfy him - it makes him want to be a better man to deserve it in the first place.

his tongue snakes out to lick into tim's mouth, tasting the last traces of something fruity and salty with that tang of tequila. there's another long peck to his lips before he pulls away with an agreeable hum.]

Yep. The whole way.

[uttered between another press of his lips, and he starts the walk over half blind and blocked by the beaming face of his lover.]

You know - [another kiss peppered against the corner of his mouth - ]

Someday I'd like to test if it's all liquor that makes you frisky or just a few.

[ 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. ]

Hurry.

Oh, you think? I think - [another kiss, hawk licking into his mouth briefly with a hum, accidentally nudging sideways towards the wall and nearly cutting his elbow against some column with a precious heirloom.]

I think I could get drunk on you like this too.

[he's grinning as he pulls back slightly, gaze dropping to where there's a bulge of interest developing before his eyes. his grip adjusts underneath tim's knees, clutching him that much tighter to his chest so he can try and have some semblance of better steering down the hall. god knows what the house or giles will do if he dumps over some priceless antique bumping over too it because he's desperate to be on or in tim right this instant.]

Greedy, are we? I like that, yeah.

[thank christ he had the foresight to leave the door unlocked, bumping up against it to turn the handle and kick it open. he barely waits to nudge it closed before he's moving like a man on a mission, depositing tim on the bed none too gently and kicking off his shoes, shrugging out of his shirt and immediately caging tim on the bed to lean down and kiss him hard. his hips shift forward in a hungry grind, hands dropping to start tugging at his belt and prying his fly open.]

Get your shirt off. Hurry.

Yeah.

[ It's greedy. But he gets to be greedy, because Hawk is his and he is Hawk's, they've agreed, and they're together. Tim's wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, it's so much better than he could have hoped for. Overwhelming in its normalcy, coming home to someone who loves him. Just like everyone else.

He laughs as his back hits the bed with a little bounce, tipsy enough to be playful despite the roiling heat building in his gut by the second. On instinct, his ankles wrap around Hawk's legs, trying to draw him closer still as they kiss, Tim groaning into it, long and needy. His hand is just wrapping around to the back of Hawk's neck when he makes his demand, and he pulls it back obediently, moving instead to the buttons on his bright yellow shirt while his lover, his man, works off his pants.

After the shirt is shrugged off, and the tank beneath it pulled over his head, he lifts his hips to make Hawk's job easier, and watches him, leaning back on his elbows with his head tilted to one side. ]

Thank you, Daddy.

[there will never be a day when hawk tires of unwrapping tim the way he does now - the slow reveal of carved muscle that's deceptively hidden under some of his previously poorer-fitting suits and oversized attire. it feels like a secret that belongs to him alone (or at least, that's what he wants to believe and will continue to tell himself - nevermind luci or anyone else hawk has stupidly allowed him to run to. tim's hips hitch upwards oh so helpfully and hawk tugs off his pants, both legs at once before tossing them in a heap off the side of the bed. no time for playing coy, for ordering him to fold them. there's an urgency that reminds him of rehoboth beach as he leans down to groan against another heated kiss - it's only been a few hours, but he remembers the hunger and the aching desire that had been all consuming when they'd finally made their way into that hotel room and devoured one another.

and then tim drops a little surprise at him, hawk's eyes flying open as he pulls back with a light smirk at the affectionate and new moniker. like hell if that didn't make his dick throb.]

Trying that on for size, huh?

[hawk sits back on his haunches, working at his own fly with a renewed vigor to work himself out and not even bother taking off his own pants. the tip is reddened and already leaking with the telltale shininess of precum as hawk circles his own shaft and presents it towards tim with darkened eyes and a gruffness in the low timbre of his voice.]

This what my boy wants? Tell Daddy.

[ There’s a brief moment of unsure anticipation, curious what Hawk will think of him trying something that he’d learned, at least in part, from someone else. Not in whole though, the groundwork had been laid from the very first night, in that tiny illegal sublet and that bed that could barely contain the two of them, when Tim became his boy and never stopped, not even for a second. It’s just an acknowledgement, and a loving one, that it goes both ways, Hawk so eager to take care of him, protect him in a way that earns his obedience.

Daddy earns him a smirk, and Tim sends one back. Of course he likes it. Tim doesn’t go for terms of endearment nearly as much, since Hawk sounds as beautiful to him as anything else could, but this one, he’s earned. ]

Yeah, I want that.

[ His breath hitches in his throat as he confesses, his voice high and airy with his desperation as he scoots down on the bed, legs spread, so he can get nearer. He's hardly been touched, but still he trembles as if he's hanging over the edge. Or is it a shiver? Now that the touch is gone, Tim's skin feels cold again, even though the blood underneath it simmers. The opposing sensations border on uncomfortable, but Hawk will take care of him, he'll keep him warm from the inside and out, fill him with hot, wet seed until he's bursting. Just the thought of it makes him whimper. ]

I want you, need you. Please.

[ No one else will do. No one else knows exactly what he needs, no one else would see him as he is now, all pathetic pleading and wanton lust and love him even more for it. Only Hawk. ]

[if hawk knew this stemmed from someone else, maybe he'd have more objections. or maybe not, considering it stirs something deep in the recesses of his mind the same way calling tim his good boy must do the same - it's just fitting, and it sounds mighty pretty coming out of his mouth with that dick-drunk look on his face that makes hawk want to bend him in half and own him. which is, in essence, what he's about to do anyway. something about the way tim is mildly intoxicated and utterly genuine in everything he utters and displays in the moment makes hawk want to meet him most of the way for a change, emboldened by the bliss they've shared long enough to settle into a real rhythm these days.

besides, how could he say no to such avid devotion?

he braces both hands on the pillow, framing either side of tim's head to lean down for another slow and sensual kiss that does nothing to deter his own urgency, eventually letting one wander to his side of the bed and the top drawer where he's tossed the lube.]

It's all yours, baby. Don't worry - I gotcha. Told you I'd fill you to the brim, and I intend to keep that promise, you hear me?

[there's a nip to tim's bottom lip, enough to distract as he warms up some of the lube against his fingers and reaches down to press his middle and pointer finger against the tight little rim between his cheeks. who said he can't rile him up a little first - fill him with his fingers before his cock and his cum? if there's one thing he'll never get tired of, it's getting to watch tim fall apart without needing to stifle his moans or bite down on his cries, as intoxicating as any of the tequila coursing through his bloodstream right now.]

Christ, I'll never get over how tight you are, Skippy. It's all mine, yeah?

[ He matches the languid, intimate pacing despite his craving for more, letting Hawk form a shield over him that warms him up bit by bit. It's always so easy to do, let himself be led by him, put complete faith in the fact that he'll be taken care of. There's been bumps in the road, but he's never left Tim wanting when it comes to this. What his body needs, Hawk will provide, and he's getting better at the heart and soul, too. It's some kind of heaven, being in this room with him. ]

I hear you. You'll do it, you will.

[ Soft babbling into the kiss, against Hawk's lips in as he tries to pull him closer still, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, back arching just to feel the warmth of Hawk’s chest on his. It feels like he's bursting already, like he can't control himself despite his desire to be good and do what he's told, his body greedy enough to move on its own. Fingers tangle through Daddy's hair, over the shell of his ear, anything just to have or taste a little more, Tim's kissing frantic like being inside might not be enough, like he needs to absorb him. The slick fingers prodding against his hole are welcomed with a sweet, needy little moan, a relaxing of the muscle that's become an automatic response. A ritual as cherished and familiar as any in the church. ]

It's all yours. All of me.

[ Repeated back, like the call and response of a prayer. Amen. ]

[he'd said the same thing weeks ago, and it already feels like a lifetime: yeah alright, i'm yours. because it was true ever since they'd locked eyes across the bar at mccarthy's election night, every meeting after only solidifying the space in hawk's heart that could only be filled by the shape of tim laughlin. maybe it's too much for him to outright say it like that, to let his feelings simply exist in the space and expression the way they're meant to. but this is the part he can always and unquestionably fully give himself to: bringing tim to a higher place of bliss and ecstasy and take greedily of his body and his boy all for himself. at a base level it's sex, yeah, of course it is. but when he thinks of eddie koeffler and all the men he's fucked before in short bursts at clandestine locations with no intention of ever seeing them again - it doesn't even come fucking close to what they have here behind closed doors.

and maybe jesuit high school never did it for him and he doesn't believe in god, but he can believe an angel walks among them in the form of tim laughlin. knows it's real when he offers himself like a sacrificial lamb when he gets on his knees or stretches onto his back and gives up everything he has freely to hawk. it makes him want to possess it from the inside out, to claim him like he did with the cufflinks and the words spilling out of his lips back in rehoboth beach: i belong to hawkins fuller. no matter what happens to them here - there will be a part of it that's always true, and it scares the hell out of hawk to think that their souls are twined together forever now.

it makes him kiss that much fiercer, tongue slipping into tim's mouth and swirling against the slickness of his own as his fingers push past any lingering resistance and drive deep inside the velvety heat with a low groan. they pull back with ease, sliding back inside and crooking this time in search of the one spot that'll have tim's eyes go wide and his moans get that much louder and needier. his forehead stays pressed against tim's, feeling damp hair crushed between them as he looks him in the eye and nods, encouraging him to fall apart.]

Go on honey, tell me how that feels. It's not enough, is it?

[ 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. ]

Yeah, look at you, christ.

[it'll never stop being the hottest goddamn thing to watch tim fall apart with barely even a touch - his dick isn't even anywhere near and he's begging for more. loud, unabashed, pure in his utter devotion and the way his body is offered up solely for hawk's taking and utter ruin. it's not a gift he takes lightly, letting his lips drag hot and open-mouthed against tim's jugular and the strong line of muscle down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, teeth nipping and worrying at the skin without a care in the world for what sort of mark he might leave. why shouldn't he? tim is his, this is their sanctuary, and not a single person here can judge them for it. at least, that's the mantra he's been trying to tell himself these past few blissful weeks.

hell of a lot easier to believe when he's got this angel utterly desperate under him, rocking himself onto thick fingers like he might work himself to the edge that only hawk can drag him over and catch him and do it all over again. he could keep him like this for hours if he were cruel or playful or anything but starved to consume the offering he's been given - laid up like the very eucharist itself, body stretched and willing for whatever will come to it. hawk's free hand lifts to tweak at one pretty pink nipple, thumb and forefinger tugging it mercilessly as his fingers pull free from the warmth and the grip that feels like it might keep him there awhile. much as he'd like to play the game, hawk is only a man too - hot-blooded, cock hanging heavy and flushed between his own legs and hard enough to cut glass.

there's a low hum against his neck, hawk still tonguing at the spot that's already blooming a pretty red from the way his teeth have nipped and prodded at it, even as he reaches down to push tim's thighs wider apart in anticipation.]

Shh, lemme see you - just one more minute.

[his hands grip around the firm muscle, flexing against every tremble and shudder as he drinks in the sight of tim flushed and debauched and empty - hole flaring around nothing that only he can fill up.]

You're so goddamn gorgeous, you know that angel?

[there's another quick kiss, stolen and hungry as he finally wraps a hand around the base of his own leaking cock and lines it up. no more taunting, no more games - not when he pushes forward slow and tosses his head back with every velvety inch dragging him further and further in to claim what's always been his.]

[ He makes a soft, keening sound, fingers twisting in Hawk's hair to hold him there against his neck to beg him for more without the unintelligible babbling. Tim's not worried that he'll leave a mark either, he's more worried that he won't, that he'll be so eager to take him, to claim him right here in this room that he might leave his boy unmarked, accidentally leave it up to interpretation who he really belongs to. Hawk, always Hawk, and he repeats that name like prayers over a rosary, with every touch and every cruel lack of it.

Tim's limbs shake with his impatience - and sure, this time he's ingested things that are helping to rile him up, to need it even more - but he isn't even aware of that, just barely over the way he burns for Hawk on a base level, all the time. In the morning, he wakes up, looks over at Hawk, and he wants him. In the afternoon, he thinks about him, remembering the last time his lips were on his neck, and he wants him. At night, he crawls into his lap, wanting him, wanting him, wanting him. ]

Hawk.

[ A louder, higher whine as he takes his fingers back from Tim's hole, leaving him empty and unsatisfied, muscle clenching as if his body is searching for that missing piece. Frantic for it, he grips tight around Hawk's wrist, pulls it to his mouth to swallow those two fingers. A low moan, and his eyes flutter closed, with the bliss of finally being filled somewhere, by something. Tongue slicking over his fingers, he can taste himself on every knuckle, in every ridge, under Hawk's fingernails and in his fine hairs. How it should be, the two of them mixed together until they're nearly one.

It takes a second to register the question, but he opens his eyes and nods, too busy sucking his fingers like a man possessed for a real response. Saying yes isn't entirely true, but it's not a lie right now - he doesn't think of himself as gorgeous until he sees himself through Hawk's eyes, desirable and precious and endearing in his shamelessness.

Hawk's fingertips are in the back of his throat and his cock is finally pushing into him, stretching him open with just the right amount of burn, taking him easy, welcoming him home. He swallows around Hawk's fingers, hooking his ankles around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper, muffling a mmhmm around his mouthful. ]

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