homosexuals | [SALTBURNT INBOX]

You're my boy. I'm always gonna know.

I know when you need it soft and sweet, on your back 'till you're all riled up and digging your heels in begging me for more.

And I know when you need it fast and rough, so hard you can't even think straight and you don't even feel it coming when I let you finally have it.

That's what happens when you belong to someone, Skippy. You're mine - whether we're together or not.

[there's a pause. he'd stop here, normally. but...]

And I'm yours.

[ He knows. He knows all of it, he's bee thinking about it all day. You see Tim thought, maybe if he drank quickly enough, he would just pass out before he got the urge to get in touch with Hawk, to crawl to wherever he is to pray at the altar between his thighs.

Clearly, that didn't happen. He reads it over three times, heat licking at his gut stronger each time. ]

From the very first time you knew

what about you.
you're not celibate

'Course I knew. I knew it when I saw you across the bar.

Maybe not, but it's not high on my priorities these days.

...If you're asking if anyone else could ever take the place of my boy, the answer is no.

you knew how to fuck me because of the milk

how

why? what's wrong with them

Nobody with any lick of good worldly sense is gonna order milk at a goddamn election, Skippy. I knew you were green as Eisenhower's fresh mowed grass and ripe for the taking.

Nothing's wrong.

It's just - I know every inch of you, inside and out. The way you fit around my cock, the way you smell after a long day out in the sun. The way you sound when I've got you on the edge, begging to tip over.

Nobody can ever replicate that.

I had sense. i didn't want to be drunk. it was a work event
so you wanted me because I was innocent but I'm not anymore
is that why you're not here

you could know all of that after being with someone just a couple times

Uh huh. So you order a beer and you sip it like everyone else. At least a shirley temple or a coke.

It wasn't about the innocence, Skip. It was how genuine you are. Can't tell a lie to save your life, and you still can't. You're a good boy - inside and out. Not just because of how good you take me and how eager you are, but because you wanna do something decent with your life.

So no, it's not the same. It's not why I'm not there.

I miss every fucking minute I'm not with you, and you got me here saying it to you plain.

I don't like coke

and if I were good I wouldn't be texting you in the middle of the night

you keep saying that.

Water?

Nah, that's not it. If I were good, you wouldn't be texting me in the middle of the night. You'd be sitting pretty on my lap or curled up next to me.

Keep hoping you'll believe it soon.

theres nothing wrong with milk its not weird to drink milk

but you are horrible so im with other people
if you missed me you would want me back

Nothing wrong at all. I love when you drink milk.

Especially the all-natural kind that doesn't come out of a bottle.

Yeah, I know honey.

...Do you honestly think I don't want you back, Skippy? Thought my boy was smarter than that. Seems like he's having a hard time listening these days, though.

What should be done about that?

that was a stretch

it's been a month. you haven't come after me. im only barely hiding. can't hear you from so far away

If I come to you right now - you gonna let me in?

i dont know

[no response. not in writing anyway.

knock knock, skippy.]

[ Well, that was a mistake. After about five minutes without a response, he starts to panic, stumbles to the bathroom to splash some water on his face to try to sober up, but it's no help, Tim is in Hell, awaiting with dread and excitement the same familiar, specific knock he used to wait for while he paced his studio apartment in Washington.

And there it is. He presses his forehead to the door and says a prayer before he opens it. ]

We're not having sex.

[his hands lift as in surrender, brows raising comically at the lack of greeting and the dogged insistence. what are they going to do?]

We're not having sex, got it. Loud and clear.

[hawk glances behind tim, towards the rest of the room that he knows is koby's.]

May I come in? We are alone, aren't we?

[ Well for now, Tim's gonna stare at him. He's visibly drunk, wobbly on his feet and squinting at him, glasses long left on the table at the bedside. He's...magnetically handsome, like he always is, while Tim is unshaven and ruffled and pink in the face from the bottle of wine he's finished. ]

Yeah, he's at Quentin's.

[ It looks like he's made himself at home here, things Hawk would recognize as his from their cohabitation casually littered around. Not messily, he's never messy, but comfortably. ]

Sit with me?

[ He'll be flopping down on the bed regardless. ]

[as long as he doesn't look at the way this place looks just as lived in as their suite, he'll be able to keep the endeared smile on his lips - to watch the flush on tim's face and the stubble he aches to rub his chin against. his gaze drops to watch every inch of tim from behind - fixing a little too long on his thighs and the ass he absolutely misses as it wobbles slightly before settling against the bed, leaving him standing there and looking downward at his boy.]

Yeah. 'Course.

[carefully he situates himself down, thigh brushing against tim's as he angles his body to turn his torso and face him directly.]

No sex.

[a low repetition of it, mildly amused as he reaches up to graze a thumb against the roughness on his chin.]

What about a kiss?

[ He hasn't been this close to Hawk since their fight, a month ago. It feels good having his warm, fond gaze on him again, keeping him safe with his presence and his own hands instead of vague promises. It feels terrible, knowing that it's temporary, that he's wrong and he's weak to let him get this close again. Weak and warm from the alcohol in his system, heightening all those feelings, good and bad.

Tim leans into him, not for a kiss, but into the touch as a dog would for another scratch. ]

Mmmiss you too.

[ Drawn out, not in a state where words are his strong suit. ]

Miss our room.

[ Not answering the question. ]

[he's not about to push his luck, not yet - not wanting to take advantage even if he can feel the tension between them like it's about to burst, a dam of all the sleepless nights and yearning with no understanding for what resolution looks like.]

Yeah honey. I miss it every day. Morning, noon, and night.

[his thumb skirts along tim's jaw, nail lightly running against the stubble that's a new and not at all unwelcome addition. there's a heavy exhale, hawk leaning forward to press their foreheads together.]

You remember - what I was doing for Senator Smith?

[his voice is low, as tentative as hawk ever gets, because he's fucking terrified tim will latch onto this like a dog with a bone and keep chasing the answer.]

It's like that now with the Balfours. That's why I gotta keep my distance for now. Can't let you get wrapped up in this.

Edited 2024-09-08 16:43 (UTC)

[ There's so much to push back on, that he might have if he weren't drunk. Hawk shouldn't be calling him honey anymore, he should just be with him if he misses him so damn much instead of putting him through this, a purgatory within a purgatory where he so desperately wants to be through with him while knowing in his heart that he never will be. But if Tim were in the combative mood to really let him have it, he wouldn't have let him in, he wouldn't be seeking the comfort of his head in Hawk's hands or wishing that he'd stay. ]

I'm sorry. [ Closing his eyes in some sort of relief with the press of their foreheads together, breathing through his nose so Hawk doesn't comment on the booze on his breath. As if it isn't exceedingly obvious. ] About Senator Smith. I shouldn't have told you like that.

[yeah, it's obvious. but he's not gonna say a damn word, knowing there's a chance he might knock tim out of it and get his ass kicked out prematurely. it's not even about sex or kisses anymore, which should be surprising to him. but can it really, when it's always been about more than that? it's about the intimacy and the trust he has here with another man - feelings he's refused to let himself have since kenny. it's why his lips brush tenderly against tim's temple instead of seeking out his mouth, not wanting to silence him or truly take advantage even though he doesn't think his lover would see it that way. not entirely, anyway.]

You don't have to apologize for that. There was never going to be a good time for it.

[there's a pause, realization sinking in that he hasn't really let himself have the opportunity to grieve over it yet, too wrapped up in everything else. if his arm slides down to drag tim a little closer and squeeze around his shoulders - it doesn't mean anything.]

I just wish I knew - what happened. Why. We were going to fix it all, we were gonna win.

[it sounds naive the moment it's fully articulated, a rare moment in which he wishes he could take it back.]

I do. I should have said something sooner. Didn’t wanna ruin it when we were happy, but at least then, I could have...

[ Could have been with him like this as he processed it? Hawk could be the one coping with too much to drink and Tim could be the one diligently at his side anyway, navigating through all his contradictions to offer him the tenderness he needs in a weak moment. Maybe that would have changed things, if he’d had the chance to prove that he can be a safe haven instead of another responsibility. How horribly selfish of him to even think, about someone else’s grief.

Tim matches the embrace, latching his arms around him tight. Hawk might wish he could take those words back, but he finds them endearing. A scrap of evidence that the one he loves isn’t all cynicism and disbelief, deep down somewhere lies a little morsel of faith. He pulls back just enough to look Hawk in the eye – beautiful, bright blue that makes his heart flutter, trying to ignore that – and cup his jaw gently, show him some sweetness before he breaks him a little more. ]

The papers said it was self-inflicted. In his office. [ Quietly, as if any more volume might add to the weight, make it unbearable. ] I don’t know why. A lot of rumors went around, but I don’t like that kind of gossip.

Edited 2024-09-10 15:14 (UTC)

Nah - it's alright honey. You didn't wanna ruin it.

[instead hawk took it upon himself to do it. and the reality is: he'd do it again, no matter how much it's tearing him up inside to know he's hurting tim. hurting them both with the distance and the secrecy for a whole other set of powerful people, and this time he doesn't even know the end goal of the game, only that having favor here is surely better than not.

but that all melts away when tim lets him have this: a tight embrace, the intimacy he's craved and lacked for weeks now offered to him even amongst a somber backdrop of loss. he wishes they could stay like this forever, hawk dipping his chin against the space that always feels made for him at the juncture of tim's muscled shoulders and neck where he can inhale deeply and drink in everything that is his boy. but it can't last forever, and his eyes are already glassy when tim looks at him, jaw trembling for the briefest of moments at the tenderness he's offered before the revelation.

what does he even say? why? wesley smith - senator, mentor, father - he'd never have done this without reason. he must've been pushed into a corner. mccarthy and cohn getting away with goddamn murder, or maybe it was - lenny? frank was gonna come through, gonna get him the original arrest record, and then they'd be free and clear to tell senator bridges and welker to fuck off and shove their attempted blackmail up their asses without proof. is it his fault senator smith had to resort to this? his own voice sounds small, hand gripping at tim's wrist for something to latch onto as emotion threatens to overwhelm his normal stoicism.]

I couldn't stop it. He wouldn't, not unless he had no other choice.

I must have...failed him. Christ.

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