homosexuals | [SALTBURNT AU INBOX]

[because he doesn't do texting and he called hawk while the plane was landing. some shuffling in the background as he makes his way to the terminal. he sounds a bit tired, but entirely affectionate. short and sweet and to the point.]

Mon loup, I'm going to be at Saltburnt soon. Call me when you get this.

[there is no hesitation whatsoever - the second he gets the call, he picks up and dials august back. there is a pull he's never been able to explain, as if he's under a spell every time august is in the vicinity or his ear. it makes him think back to that night - christ, he wishes he could remember it better. it's very hazy.]

Not soon enough. You've got a bit of catching up to do, but it sounds like you might need some rest first.

How bout dinner and I tuck you in, huh?

[there he is. august picks up on the second ring with a liquid-smooth voice, someone who's mastered the correct tone and inflection for whomever he's talking to. he knows how hawk likes him to sound.]

Do I? [a faux submission, playful but seductive.] Are you going to warm some milk for me, too?

[hearing it makes his eyelids flutter, settling into something half-lidded as if gentle force. already he feels relaxed and dazed - somehow energized and waiting, placid for some further...instruction? purpose? it's a natural talent of august's, he's decided.]

Well, now you're just teasing me. But you know I will. I'll even split it with you.

[and then fall asleep alongside him, wake up and hope he's there but know like a wisp of smoke he's somehow evaporated and left him to wonder if it was all just a dream. there's a thrill to the mystery of it, though. enough that he keeps coming back.]

[a breathy laugh. august has all of hawk's soft spots in the palm of his hand, the more he presses the more he bends for him, earnest in his eagerness. he likes that about him.]

You like being teased. [he pauses, holding the lingering quiet as one would hold a bated breath. he wants to make him think in those two, three seconds. what's next coming from a silver tongue?] I want you to do something for me.

When it's you doing the teasing, sure.

[there's a light chuckle from hawk, hoping one day maybe he'll have the upper hand here when it always feels like the floor is liquid beneath his feet where august is concerned. but he does wait - hanging on that pause until it stretches out to more than three seconds. he opens his mouth to ask if they've lost the connection, but then - ]

Yeah? Just say what. I'll make it happen.

[hawk can probably hear the smile through the phone. he forms the question to seem effortless– asking for the paper or to pass the remote. he's said it before and he'll say it again, but he makes it sound special and coveted. a request that doesn't take no for an answer.]

Picture me in your full hands and bring yourself to me in a vial. I want you in the milk.

[his breath hitches. he could be palming himself through his slacks, or maybe someone took him by surprise.]

Can you do that for me, Hawk?

[his eyelids squeeze shut almost immediately - before the words are even finished. it's as if his actions are puppeted on a string that august is holding the end of, that he couldn't deny even if he wanted to.]

Yeah.

[he swallows thickly, suddenly hot under the collar and hard as hell. where did that even come from? his voice lowers, rasped from the dryness in his throat.]

Yeah, I can do that for you.

[his eyes stay shut, thoughts drifting into something dreamlike in the way he can picture himself making it happen in as much as it actually is happening. but it's better to think about august holding the glass, something ornate and specific - where has he seen it before? shit.

he's worked his cock through the slit of his boxers and slacks, fisting it with one hand with increased desperation.]

Are you - gonna be in the milk too?

[it's breathy in between the slick noise and rustle of fabric, enough to convey to august what he's made happen here.]

[he'd taken a quick detour to the restroom of the airport to hide away in one of the stalls. this won't take too long, from the sound of hawk's needy voice. zipper undone with one hand and a shift in his position tells hawk that he's pulling his cock out. then a slick, wet noise as august licks his hand and begins to stroke himself in turn. long and slow delicious motions and already weeping from the head. pure arousal. he sinks lower against the door of the stall, lashes fluttering closed.

the operation has better results if they're both aligned. both thinking about each other and the exchange.]

Yes–

[around a sigh, picturing where hawk is, how much he wants him. how much he wants to drink him. take him. he swallows in anticipation, stroking himself with more fervor.]

We'll share it– I'll give you the last drop for how good you're being.

Jesus, August - fuck -

[where is he right now? some addled part of his brain wants to ask if he's really still at the airport, or if he's already gotten a sleek, partitioned car and has the privacy to play this game with him. only it doesn't feel like a game - it feels important, an inexplicable tether that they have to complete, that he has to obey and see through to the end. why wouldn't he when pleasure is the only thing flooding him right now? if he thinks about it hard enough, it almost feels distant - like his own hand isn't the one doing the work, like august is right here murmuring in his ear and fisting around him.

hawk groans into the receiver, head tipping back against the headrest of the chair and letting his eyes squeeze hard as he keeps working at it - ]

- 'm close. Real close - you gonna - can I -?

[why he's asking permission is beyond him. it barely even registers.]

[god, he really had to start this now, didn't he, all hot and bothered in the airport, itching to blow his load for hawk's sake. to struggle with thinking about how to time it, phone pressed between cheek and shoulder, trying not to fumble to grab the singular vial he keeps for this reason. a shuddering breath, hips rolling up into his own hand, pumping, closer– he has to be close. if anything is a weakness of august it's the urge to gain power or favor with a willing assistant. a friend, even. but hawk knew the surface of august and not the dark underbelly that keeps him afloat.]

Hawk– [with his next words rasped in latin,] give yourself to me freely. [and he'll recognize those words, too. he's said them with hawk on his knees, august bent to feed him with his hands on his face, tongue over tongue, spit and come and sweat exchanged to be swallowed. instinctively, august swallows, conditioned by his past and hungry with a sexual appetite rearing with an open maw.] Come for me.

[another hitch of his breath as heat pools below his stomach and his cock throbs, slick messy sounds the phone barely picks up. he'll come when hawk does, god knows how he times it perfectly, but he does. he can hear hawk's breath, trained and perfect for him, and knows exactly when the orgasm hits.]

Shit - ! Oh shit, yeah, yeah -

[it's strange the way he feels like even if his body weren't already so close, so needy just from the sound of august's voice on the other end of the line - that somehow this rush of his orgasm would be plucked out of him anyway, pulled out of his body as if by hand. by august's hand, long fingers, stripping away each wisp of defense and shame and decorum against giving into this. it's not that he's been a saint since kenny's death, but the urge for sex just isn't there when he sees pretty faces and tight bodies - flirtations that are subtle and overt.

but somehow this: giving himself as if by sacrifice...this he can trust more than anything else in that moment. it all goes white behind his eyes, the slick noises and words in his ear, suddenly sounding as if they are here with him, that he can feel august in the room and that the hand milking him dry isn't his own. fuck, he wishes - ]

Jesus -

[was that latin? it crosses his mind so briefly he wonders if he dreamt it, breath ragged and fist slick with the spurt of his own cum, thick and somehow wasted in the way it's not been used for something else.

...what the fuck?

it's the distance, he decides. there's a low chuckle as he arches back and lets out a relieved exhale.]

Christ, Aug. Didn't have afternoon delight on my agenda today, but I'm sure glad you called.

[get here soon, he wants to say, to beg almost, but he swallows it down, feeling too needy already.]

[ resting atop your pillow: a luxe, cream envelope, your name embossed in gold letters, holding a textured invitation — ]

[after some nervousness and deciding whether or not to send a formal letter back, he opts for a voicemail. hawk sounds nothing but genuine, gracious and grateful, like he can't really believe he earned one in the first place. he's just a tennis guy, for christ's sake.]

Mr. Moore - I'm truly honored for the invite. Thank you for your consideration.

I'll happily accept, and if it isn't too forward - maybe I'll have the pleasure of shaking your hand. You and the President have done great things for the country together.

Looking forward to the 14th. Thank you again.

Hawkins.

Although I should question how we both ended up here, I'm glad to see you're enjoying more than just the four walls of your home.

[ no, really. he's proud that hawk is out and about and doing things. especially over the last couple years. ]

Try to enjoy yourself. I'll expect a full report when we meet again. This place has a menagerie of rooms. Pick one, that's where our next session will be.

Dr. Graham! What a pleasant surprise.

It's a funny story - I'll have to tell you the full one when I see you next. The long story short is: I met the Balfours in college. We kept in touch. Rosie's my goddaughter: the sweetest damn thing you'll ever see.

Yes, of course, though if you're on a sabbatical too I'd hate to interrupt. Otherwise - how about the hunting lodge?

Even if I was on a sabbatical I would make time for you. We've known one another for a long time, so it never feels like work. And never an interruption.

But you know the Balfours? I'd love to hear the story - the hunting lodge seemed quiet when I passed it on my morning walk. I think we'll have a great deal of privacy there.

It's a beautiful estate - I have other clients here, so it's for work, but I can't complain. They have an extensive liquor stock - maybe a finger of brandy for our hunting?

Please, I wouldn't expect special treatment. You deserve a break too. But I appreciate it all the same.

Perfect. I'll reserve it for us and you bring the brandy.

Other clients too, though? I don't know if you've ever met Harry Goodsir - my regular doc, but he's here too. Sometimes I think the world is a lot smaller than we give it credit for. Or maybe just the circles we run in, huh?

Oh, I actually think he's in the suite that adjoins mine. A very small world.

[ curious. he'll have to be careful of course should he decide to lean into any of his more particular tastes here if the circles are running so tightly together. ]

I think like knows like - we circle those who we feel most similar to, who we find pieces of ourselves in below the surface. We can deep dive into that over brandy for hours if we're not careful.

What brings you here? I came for some work - a few clients here. Is there a tennis match I didn't know about?

No, really? What a treat! For both of you - I think you'd get along swimmingly. He's been a godsend during the injury, you know? Like you were during everything else.

You know, maybe I'm crazy - but sometimes it feels like hours. You pull things outta me I wouldn't even remember otherwise. It's a good thing. Brandy might make it even longer.

Rosie's my goddaughter. Met her dad back in university, and we kept in touch. No tennis - my knee isn't what it used to be and I'm not trying to push it. Nice of you to be willing to travel, though. You gotten the full tour yet?

Has he? I'm so glad to hear it. And as always, I'm here for you, Hawk. Putting yourself out there after everything isn't easy and yet here you are. Progress is something to celebrate.

But brandy and good conversation is always worth the time - I haven't gotten the tour yet. Interested in a walk and talk? Brandy included, of course. We haven't taken our sessions outside of the office before, it might be a nice change of pace.

I thought it was you I saw at breakfast. Big fan. Watched you come back from 0-5, 0-40 at Wimbledon. You're so much hotter in person.

Oh - that's extremely flattering of you. Very kind. Really.

[how does he take a compliment like this!!]

I'm awfully sorry if I missed you at breakfast. I'm - well I guess you know already, but I'm Hawkins Fuller. I'm Rosie Balfour's godfather, as a matter of fact.

[and the proudest there ever was!! shut up hawk.]

Tell me about you?

Rosie's the one who gave me your number. 😉 I owe her one. Or maybe more if this leads to more than just texting. 😜

My name is Armand Kamali. I'm here to appraise some of the Balfour artworks and so my sister can get over her ex-husband.

Well, any friend of Rosie's is absolutely a friend of mine. It's lovely to meet you, Armand.

I'm not much of an art connoisseur, but I do know their collection is full of some truly terrific stuff. What's your favorite piece? If it isn't too personal.

And it's sweet of you to support your sister during a difficult time - you two must be close. I was an only child...sometimes I wonder if I missed out.

There's a particularly fine Gainsborough in the library. I enjoy the dark promise in the landscape. It feels as though it's waiting for something.

And yes, Parisa and I are very close. We share almost everything.

So you're here to visit Rosie?

There's a few around here you can really get lost in. Some of 'em - I'm surprised they were allowed to be painted back then, if you catch my drift.

[very risqué, oh boy.]

What do you think it's waiting for, then? In your expert opinion. I'm all ears. :)

It must be nice - having someone always in your corner.

Yeah. They've been inviting me for awhile but...well, I lost my partner about a year and a half ago. Took an injury that kept me pretty isolated. But enough of them asking and my therapist telling me to stop wallowing and I finally decided to take everyone's advice - so here I am. It's a little more crowded than I expected, but everyone's terribly charming.

I read about that. It must be difficult to be somewhere new without him. Wanting to talk to him and unable to do it.

...Yeah. It's beautiful here - and I wish he'd been able to see it. I keep thinking if there was ever a moment that could have made things different, you know? If we hadn't gone to that play, or if we went out this night instead of staying in - would he have been exposed to...whatever the hell contributes to that kind of cancer.

Anyway, sorry. Don't meant to bore you with depressing details.

This is the first time I've been optimistic in a long while. Maybe we can have a coffee sometime together, Armand.

I asked for the depressing details. Don't worry about it. I'll buy you that coffee to make up for it, how about that? And maybe I'll bring my balls for you to sign.

[there's a pause where hawk decides if he's just turning into a dirty old man or if that was on purpose. hm.]

Well, that sounds like a delight. I'll happily take you up on it.

You play? Every time I ask someone if they want a go on the court they say no - I don't know if it's them being kind about the knee or because they think I can't hack it anymore.

[ It was definitely on purpose. 😌 ]

Perhaps they're intimidated by your prowess.

I'll play a few sets with you, if you promise not to be too devastating when I lose.

Good morning Mr. Fuller. 😉

What are you doing on Friday night?

Skippy - hi honey.

I sure hope I'll be spending it with you.

Honey already? Careful, Hawk. You don't know the half of it yet.

It'll be my birthday. If that's not too much pressure.

Not yet, but I'd really like to.

No, not at all. I'd love to celebrate it with you.

Look, I'm terrible at keeping secrets. I already knew it was your birthday, I already have a gift, and I was going to try and surprise you with a private dinner.

How does that sound?

Really?

That sounds nice. [ Like a little much. They met at a party a month ago, and reconnected...what, last week? This was meant to be a booty call, not...well. A grand courtship. But a gift and everything, huh? ] It'll have to be late. Every year my father wants to have a drink and apologize for being an asshole.

Really.

Ah. My father died when I was young. Sometimes I wonder if he would have approved of my life the same way my mother did. And I know you probably don't want to hear it, but someday you might look back on it and think differently.

Take the drink and hurry to me instead. I'd be happy to take your mind off of it and spoil you for an evening.

It sounds like a lot for a first date.

You're a world famous athelete and a gay trailblazer, what's not to approve of? I'm just getting in trouble. But let's not talk about him anymore. I want to hear about how I'm getting spoiled.

Is this our official first date?

[not...the letters, the walk around the gardens, the sneaking off at breakfast to steal a few moments together?]

Well, I think it'd be the gay bit. I remember him being terribly strict.

Sure. It'll be just us, for starters. Got you a gift, a curated menu, some candlelight and a view, and a private spot they don't usually let anyone into after hours.

And after that - I was thinking maybe you'd let me kiss you and take it from there.

Well...I guess so.

See, that's about the only thing mine hasn't done wrong. He doesn't care that I'm gay, he cares that I like older men. The Wimbledon win really didn't cancel that out?

Hawkins Fuller, you are a romantic, aren't you?

Well - that's good, at least. And I guess...I understand his concerns. But this is my first time up to bat in at least a decade. It feels like we're on more even footing somehow, but maybe I'm just another old man trying to puff myself up, huh?

Died when I was six. Lived long enough for my first match, at least. It was a disaster.

Maybe I am. Is that a bad thing, Mr. Salvatore?

You're not too old. You're just old enough. The touch of grey in your beard for that Sports Illustrated shoot ruined my entire day.

Oh. I'm sorry. I lost my grandfather recently. I was closer to him than either of my parents.

[ Yes. No. It makes me want to puke. I can't replace him for you. He types and erases all of those and more, before deciding to just dodge the question. ]

Most men just want to fuck me.

Yeah? Think I ought to grow it out again? I'd hate to ruin your day. Week. Month.

Oh, Christ - I'm so sorry for your loss. Did you at least get to say goodbye, or was it sudden?

[hawk wasn't born yesterday - he knows hesitation when he sees it. he could drop it entirely, or rush to reassure him, but something tells him that tim might like something more confident - a little cocky, something to take charge in a way that won't scare him.]

Maybe I'm arrogant for saying so, but I've got a wall of trophies telling me I'm not most men, Skippy. Keep that in mind, if you like.

I absolutely do. As long as I get the privilege of feeling it.

Thanks. I was in a little bit of trouble when it happened, so I wasn't there.

[ That's good. Smooth. Not hammering on incessantly about it like some people. ]

Alright, I will. But you've got to tell me what this Skippy thing is about.

Edited 2025-06-03 05:04 (UTC)

[he's feeling pretty emboldened by this, so...]

Yeah? And where do you wanna feel it most? Tell me.

Shit. Wherever he was - I'm sure he knew you loved him, and you'd have been there if you could. You don't have to...but if you wanna talk about it now or even not now, I'd listen.

Take a guess and I'll tell you if you're close.

Edited 2025-06-03 05:08 (UTC)

Do I have to choose just one? The back of my thighs.

He did. I don't doubt that. But that's...depressing. We don't have to talk about that right now.

Some weird American thing I don't understand?

The backs of your thighs - they'd be a little raw by the time I was done with them, you know. Inside of 'em too. Athletes have big appetites.

You can choose another if you're a good boy. Go on.

Sure, something like that.

[ How many days until Friday? Fuck, he's not gonna make it. ]

My pits, then.

I heard a rumor you love Italian boys. I hope I'm more than just your type.

Oh yeah, I'd spend awhile there. Memorize what you smell like when you're needy.

But...I don't think I'd stop there. Might need to take an up close and personal taste of your chest.

From who?

[he can't tell if tim is being coy, or if someone really spread something so patently untrue. there wasn't anyone since kenny. or well - not anyone he can remember. fire island is a blur, and august...that was just a dream, surely.]

They're wrong - you'd be the first.

I'm sure you're used to that, all the hundreds of locker rooms you've been in.

The first since your partner? Really?

[ Forget everything else. A new wave of...something washes over him, and he's not sure what to call it. He's gonna settle on dread. ]

[he’s said something wrong - somewhere. maybe it’s too much too fast. he can slow it down again - and he doesn’t really want to talk about kenny right now anyway. there are times where it feels like he’ll drown in the guilt of still being here and thinking he’s found someone else.]

First Italian boy to catch my eye, is what I meant.

Locker rooms aren’t nearly so fun, trust me.

Oh. Yeah, obviously.

I used to play football - not the American one. Not a single orgy. Still fantasized about it being more fun in the big leagues.

Obviously.

Oh? Soccer then. Those guys are all talk and all about themselves anyway. Swing and a miss.

But if you've got big dreams of being worn out...I might be able to help.

"Soccer" sounds so stupid. Oh, some volleyball too. I had to change schools though.

I sure hope so. How's your knee?

Don't tell me - it's because you had half the school chasing you down after you put on those short shorts?

I'll live. Lucky for me, all my doctors ended up here too. Gonna have him look at it real quick before the gala.

Edited 2025-06-03 14:13 (UTC)

I blew up Father Mariano's car.

They did? That's lucky.

[ Shit. ]

Well…what’d he do to warrant the heat? Gotta be something.

Like a home away from home. It’s my first time here, even though Rosie’s my goddaughter. Funny timing, huh?

Edited 2025-06-03 16:40 (UTC)

It was a Catholic school. He was transferring to mine from another one, after getting caught...you know. He wasn't welcome.

My family's been dragging me here for years. I'd still rather be at the beach, but I think it just got less boring. :)

Ah, hell. I'm sorry. That'd be upsetting to anyone. Did he - he didn't hurt you, did he?

It's no beach but the pool's pretty nice. I'd help you put on your suntan lotion and everything. ;)

No, he didn't. But he would have hurt someone. You know what happens, right? They just transfer the creeps around. But I got expelled, the next school didn't have volleyball.

I find the lake's a little more private.

Yeah - you're right. You took a stand for something that mattered, and they chose to protect him. I'm not trying to pick at an old wound but - your parents didn't have your back?

That's their loss then. You'd look cute in tennis shorts, too, if we're keeping track.

Or nothing at all, if it's that private. I like being waterside. Sail sometimes, when the weather's good.

Edited 2025-06-04 03:25 (UTC)

They bailed me out of jail and got the charges dropped. That's where their generosity ran out. Thank you, though.

Not THAT private. Unless you've got more pull with the Balfours than I thought. Wouldn't mind modeling a thing or two for you, though.

You ever sail around in the Mediterranean? It's beautiful.

You know, you'd make a pretty hot jailbird. Just saying. ...Too soon?

Mm. Good to know.

[oh yes he does.]

...I did. Not that long ago, actually. Amalfi Coast and Sardinia, mostly.

[back when he was still mildly suicidal and in the papers for looking sad, lonely, and apparently after that asshole craig had leaked his breakdown on fire island, but that's not exactly a sexy thing to share with a kid who already has one foot out the door.]

Think it'd be a lot better with company.

Not too soon, I was sixteen. But that wasn't the only time, so I guess I count.

[ He knows what's out there. Tim looked him up after they met at the party - he'd been too busy with school and activism to keep up with every last sports scandal. He'd observed the moment of silence for Kenny at his favorite gay club when the news broke, and hadn't thought about it much afterwards until meeting Hawk in the flesh.

Reading about what came after was...humanizing. Something to turn Hawk from icon to human being. Tim's got worse floating around the internet. Maybe it's not sexy, but if he thinks he’s ready to get back out there, who's he to argue? ]

An invitation already? You're bold. I like that.

Edited (I saw this again and realized some of those words weren't real words) 2025-06-05 14:47 (UTC)

Not the only time? What else got your feathers ruffled?

Fortune's supposed to favor us. But I'd take pretty brown eyes, glasses, and a floppy head of dark hair, if we're being honest.

What do you mean? You don't read the news? There's always something. People want us dead, resources are being hoarded, they're killing the planet. Someone has to fight back. I'd do it even without a safety net, if I had to.

It's the glasses that get you going? Not the short shorts I caught you peeking at near the lake yesterday?

Course I do. It's part of the reason I've been outspoken my whole career and why I've got a pretty particular niche of philanthropy I try to focus on off the court. People will listen, and they'll tell you they care, but getting real action out of 'em can be a lost cause. But that doesn't mean we stop trying. I understand you.

What, can't it be both? The shorts were a real compelling part of it, I'll give you that. Chest too.

You have been, I know. I prefer direct action.

You sure you contain yourself until Friday?

Do you think I haven't been doing enough?

I'm a patient man. I wait when I know it's worth it.

I think that your face at some demonstrations would get a lot more attention than your tax write offs.

😘

Well ouch. Is that what you think they really are to me?

No, it's good work. I just think you're in a unique position to draw more attention. Nobody pays attention to the donations, as generous as they might be.

Well, next time you're going to one of these, you'll have to drop me a line. I can make an appearance.

Really? Sight unseen, cause unknown? You could be arrested, or worse.

Well, it'd be nice if it aligned with some of the work I've already put in, but a good cause is a good cause, right?

I think I can manage. I'm irresistible, if you read the papers.

It can get pretty extreme. AISI has me on a list.

What's your cause of choice, then? I think we can work something out.

I don't need the papers to tell me that.

The things that are worth fighting for usually do.

Well, it'd be an honor to end up at the top of something that wasn't just talking about my abs.

Something to do with our rights, for starters. Equality across the board.

Yeah? Think you can last until Friday, then?

There's a lot to do back home. The Catholic Church has too much influence, so it'll be a long fight. We'd be happy to have you.

Is it cheating if I ask you to jerk off for me?

I'm all yours. On both counts, it seems.

Anything else you wanna demand while I'm feeling indulgent?

Yeah. A picture.

Something like that could get a guy in trouble, you know.

[it's a few minutes, but:]

IMG_29

You don't have to tell me.

[ Since it's only fair, he sends one back. ]

You look awfully engrossed. What're you reading?

...Kidding. Christ Skippy, you could give a man a heart attack like that.

Something embarrassing. A trashy thriller. I'm on vacation!

I'm just innocently working on my tan out by the lake. No reason to panic 😘

Just what the doctor ordered. I'd take trashy TV if I had the time.

It's a nice tan. It'd be even better without any lines. But you sure look good enough to eat. Head to toe, even.

You've got all summer! You'll have time for trash, I'm sure.

I'm not an amateur, there won't be any lines. Wouldn't want anything to distract you while you're eating me up.

( Is it a misfire? Is it a sneaky way to talk to a hot new guest? Is he going to play at responsible house help, even though that's not what he is at all? Who knows. ) Are you settling in alright? Is there anything we can do to improve your stay?

That's very kind of you to check in, Mr. Jace. Everything has been wonderful, no complaints here.

Are you part of the staff or the welcome committee?

Just Jace. No one calls me Mr. anything, though Lord Strong wouldn’t be wrong either :) And good. Always glad to hear. If anything changes, do let me know. Just the Welcome Committee while I’m here. Have you had a chance to see the courts?

Alright, Jace then. Are you really titled, or just being cheeky?

[around here, i mean...]

Well, it's nice of you to take time out of your day to do that for little old me. I'll admit - I've been tempted, but not yet. I'd like to see them at some point, though.

Why not both, Mr. Fuller? Are all lords meant to be stuffy? Then how about I show you tomorrow morning? And anything else you'd like to see on the grounds. If you meet me by the westward entrance to the maze, the one with the griffin. I am more than happy to show you around.

On the contrary. You could easily be both - the little lord of the place. You'll have to tell me how you know the Balfours. I'm Rosie's godfather.

[the griffin, ok. he's pretty sure he knows the one, but he clicks the photo out of habit and nearly drops his goddamn phone. christ. how old is this kid, anyway? there is a very long pause. should he just - pretend he didn't receive it? it must have been an accident, surely.]

That's...an awfully interesting griffin. But I appreciate the personal invite. I'd love to, if you're flexible.

Which, it appears you are.

( time to act like that was an accident ) pardon????

Edited 2025-06-08 04:21 (UTC)

Oh my god! I am so sorry, Mr. Fuller. I really did mean to send you a photo of the griffin. ( right one attached this time!! ) You’ll have to let me make it up to you on the tour. However you see fit. I am flexible. ( Okay… so this is flirting, he can’t even deny that. )

It happens. And it could have been worse - we all spend time in the gym around here. Don't worry about it.

You sure are. Mine isn't nearly as much anymore, but you just say when and I'll come by.

How many people are sending you accidental thirst traps, Mr. Fuller? Maybe I should try gymnastics. Tomorrow morning then?

Depends on the intent. Had to stop looking at my Instagram and hire a social media manager, but those were pretty intentional.

Seems like you'd do exceptionally well there. You need a referral?

Tomorrow morning. We could get breakfast first, if you like.

hi, apa (:
guess who

I know who.

C'mon, you're too good and too handsome to have a foul name like that attached to you, Danny.

don't say that to my daddy, he'll come back with a receipt full of fouls

( and danny's fouls are very expensive. )

i missed you
haven't seen you since that thing in montreal

You're right. I didn't mean to lose touch. It was hard with - well, I don't know if you heard the news, but Kenny passed. Think you and your Dad were stuck during playoffs when it happened.

How've you been, Danny? Really. I missed you too. Come give me a hug at breakfast tomorrow morning.

shit i did
i meant to send you a card or a text but time got away from me, i'm sorry for your loss ( and danny's gain, rip kenny or whatever the fuck. )

you gonna save me a seat or your lap?

Nah, it's okay - really. I wasn't much good company. Between that and the accident well...this is my first time out and about in awhile.

Ah, I'm an old man now. Knees aren't what they used to be, and you're all grown up. Gotta be gentle with me - I'll save you the seat.

[ After yesterday’s gossip post blow up in which he dumped Harry and dug himself into an even deeper hole with Hawk, Timoteo’s been laying low. He wasn’t at dinner, he wasn’t at breakfast. He wasn’t at the gym, or the pool, or the lake, or even at the library. He’s been keeping to his room, packing his bags and feeling sorry for himself, checking his phone every time he hears the chime, only to throw it back down in disappointment.

He almost calls a dozen times. The closer he gets to the bottom of this bottle of chablis the longer his finger hovers over the button, until finally, finally, he tries. ]

Hawk...’m sorry. If you want me to leave I will.

[hawk hasn't been laying low per se, but it's hard not to notice tim's prominent absence. he wouldn't lie and say it doesn't hurt any less - but this is the way it should be for awhile. and maybe this is the way it should be period, tim wrapping up the rest of his summer without a bang and finding himself instead of his way into older men's beds. part of him wonders if he's made as much of an embarrassment of himself as harry did too, mooning after a kid that much younger.

it did mean something.

that's the only thing that keeps running through his mind now and again when he glances out at the lake or stops too long from volleying listless serves across the tennis courts with partners he barely registers the name of.

he takes dinner in his room, excusing himself to rosie as under the weather even if she looks like she doesn't believe him. an early night in ought to do him some good, though he's worried what kind of dreams are going to plague him tonight. he's read the same page of some boring book about being a good coach before he's about to give up, saved by the ring of his phone. the name on caller id is not the one he was expecting.]

...Tim?

[he sounds...upset. drunk, too, but that's not the part that worries him.]

Hey, you don't need to leave. If it's anything this mansion is big enough for the both of us.

[there's an amused snort, trying to lighten the mood. he doesn't want to let the flicker of something hopeful ignite from this. people call when they're drunk all the time, it doesn't have to mean anything.]

[ It meant something. When's the last time he admitted that? It's been years. Since secondary school, sweet Roberto, who he thought would be with him, through thick and thin. He loved him, or at least, he thought he did. He was excited to be with him, to dream about a life together, but when he left, when Teo proved himself to be too stubborn, too militant, too much...it didn't feel like this.

It made him feel empty. As if he were a fool for hoping, for believing that he was worth the attention, that he could have the kind of love that was divorced from how much trouble he was in or how much money he had, or whether he was taking over the family business or not. He was a fool, because he was destined to be abandoned, doomed to be ignored. That heartbreak was written in the stars. There's no other way it could have gone.

Hawk pulling back feels different. Like a full blown panic attack, or being held under ice water while he thrashes, looking for a way out of it. Not destined, but a shock to the system, a slap that restores senses he'd long given up on. He wants to run to him. He wants to hop on a plane and never look back. He wants Hawk. And the implications of that are too horrifying to name. ]

I don't want it to be.

[ That doesn't make any sense. Blame it on the alcohol. Teo runs his hand over his face, wiping at his glassy eyes. ]

I mean, I...I don't want to avoid you. I want to make it up to you. If you'd let me. If I haven't ruined everything.

[maybe it had been stupid to think that a few days ago by now, he'd assumed he'd be in bed with tim and lazing about at nights after dinner, dilly-dallying before breakfast and giggling along with each other in the halls. hawk was smitten, blinded by the way the idea of having something like this in his life again could feel so much so that he'd made a fool of himself in the process.

on any other night, he might think tim is making a fool of himself now too. if he were still angry - and he is - and unforgiving, he might tell tim to drink some water, sober up, and go to bed. but there's something too plaintive in his voice, a desperation that's unlike anything else he's heard up until this point. it's the kind of behaviour hawk thinks he'd rather run from than ever display if this past week has taught him anything.

so he's quiet for a few moments, not responding and listening to the pathetic sniffles that make him want to drop the phone and find tim in person, to envelop him in strong arms and run a hand through his hair assuring him he'll be alright. his voice is soft when he answers, hesitant but still meant to soothe.

if only he didn't feel so goddamn hopeful.]

Tim...I'm still gonna be here. I picked up the phone, didn't I?

[there's a heavy exhale, hawk shaking his head.]

I don't know. I thought it'd be easy if - if we felt the same way. But I never wanted you to do anything you didn't wanna do.

[he worries at his bottom lip for a few moments, waiting before asking something tentative - a soft murmur, like he's afraid he'll spook him anyway.]

What do you want to do?

[ The wait is so agonizing that he nearly hangs up. The longer the silence lasts, the more wild his imagination runs, with all the things he dreads it being filled with. Hawk could spend those precious moments deciding he doesn't want him anymore, or that he wants him now, one last chance to commit before he gives up on him.

What would be even say? Either option terrifies him. Would losing Hawk now be as bad as losing him later, once the novelty's worn off, or he's tired of him getting in trouble, or they realize they haven't thought through what it would mean to have something from separate hemispheres?

Teo is quiet too, except for the sniffling, which he just manages to quell. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself any further. He wants to be genuine, as much as he's able. ]

I didn't. Except for hurting you.

[ Soft, almost a whisper. There's a tremble of fear in his voice, like he's facing down the barrel of a gun. One wrong move could set it off. ]

I don't know. But I knew when I was with you. In that cabin. I'd never...

[ Felt like that before. So completely wanted, and sure, and safe. He catches himself before he says it. Too vulnerable, too clingy. ]

It felt too good to be true, so I panicked. Which was a mistake, I know that, but it... [ A sigh, and another pause. A clink of a bottle against a glass as he tries to untangle his tongue. ] It doesn't mean I don't want it to be.

Edited (im insane) 2025-06-17 16:54 (UTC)

...Yeah?

[before this, hawk would have told himself not to read between the lines, to accept that tim wasn't ready and he should just move on. but - tim seems earnest about it now, genuine and just frightened by his feelings instead of callous. hawk remembers what that was like...a long time ago, when he'd first fallen for kenny and been on the precipice of something new and terrifying. filling in the blanks doesn't come across as clingy - it's honest. it makes hawk's heart beat a little quicker, to open that chasm of hope blooming in his chest a little wider.]

I told myself I didn't want to rush into anything. But then I realized I haven't felt that way in - well, in almost three years. I got excited, and I let myself fall in hard. I'm not really someone to do things in half measures, sorry to say.

[there's a light chuckle, hawk exhaling softly into the receiver.]

Look...I don't know where this summer is gonna take either of us. But I know that you and I can take it whatever pace we like, if we wanna take anything at all. So why don't we just - start over? Go slow.

If you want.

[if you'll have me.]

Edited 2025-06-23 03:09 (UTC)

...Yeah.

[ With his breath held, as if he’s trying to hold everything else back with it – the overwhelming weight of all these new, warm, yearning feelings brushing against guilt for putting Harry though all that, against the grief that feels so ever present. He’s holding back his relief, so that his own self-doubt doesn’t have hawk second guessing. But he smiles into his phone, to an audience of no one, unable to help himself, just like their night (and long morning) at the lake house when he lit up every time they touched, every time their eyes met. ]

Me neither. You probably couldn’t tell from all that, but once I’ve decided, I’ve decided.

[ When it comes to things that get him in trouble, at least. But it could go for this, too. He wants it to. ]

And I do want that. Afraid there’s no starting over, though. I'm already ruined for everyone else. No takebacks.

[there's a giddiness positively fizzing up in his chest, bubbling out in a bright laugh as he smiles against his receiver too, knowing tim must hear it in his voice. and for once - he doesn't care about being too overwhelming, too delighted and too...in love. he won't say it so soon, but that's what the feeling had been. no takebacks for him, either.]

Well, I can't possibly go back on anything now.

[there's another low hum, hawk's voice dropping into a low murmur. he's still cognizant that tim is drunk, that he might not remember all of this in the morning. but he doesn't want to be too careful and waste the opportunity, either.]

Ruined, huh? Sounds like I've got to step up my game if that was just one night.

Good.

[ It might be for the best that he called more than a few glasses deep. It’s not so much that he’ll have trouble remembering this, but it’s enough that it dulls the anxiety of what might be considered at least a loose commitment, makes him more likely to admit to what he wants. And while he doesn’t yet believe that Hawk loves him – how could he, after so little time? - he does believe that he could. How he can believe it from Hawk and not from Harry, he doesn’t know, and doesn’t care to examine right now, but he knows he wants it from Hawk. He can just imagine him now, that fond smile that’s etched itself into his brain already.

Teo can see it so clearly, but still his heart aches, longing for it. ]

Hard to imagine it could get better than that, bello mio. [ A little slip, or an experiment. It doesn’t sound as unnatural from his mouth as he feared it might. ] But don’t take it so slow that you don’t try.

Timoteo told me the good news. I hope you can make an appearance the next time he returns to Italy.

Mr. Salvatore - thanks for the invitation. And for your blessing. Took a little bit of a bumpy ride, but I think we made it. Good thing I like sailing, which I'm really hoping he and I can do off the coast.

How're you and your "someone"?

I have a yacht you could charter.

( poetically, falling apart at the seams. )

Not nearly as sewn up as you and my son.

[SALTBURNT AU INBOX]

@boule – voicemail

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cw kind of nsfw weird ritual implications...i dont know what to call this

delightful is what u call it actually

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covers timestamp

shhhh there is no timeline 2 continue the garbage

📨 delivery

voicemail

@dr.graham

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text - un: 💋💋💋💋

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@timmyyyyy

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1/2

5 mins later

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cw church abuse its the 00s and very public ok

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