[ it's not that the fight goes out of him, it's just that guilt sweeps into him with all the discomfort of a bitterly cold wind. he doesn't dislike tim. he likes him, even, and resents just slightly that he does, because so does hawk, and so does ash, and embry feels like extraneous fucking silverware. he always feels a little like he's being pushed out, whether it's by his own piss-poor choices or just the walls of the universe shitting on him.
if he was a better man, he'd tell hawk to get his foot off his dick and go back to tim's bedside. he'd make him some coffee to take with him, and offer one of his trusted secret service lingering outside to drive him back and forth so he wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep at the wheel. he'd give him a stack of books for tim to borrow. but if he does all of that, he'll be alone. and he's not a good man anyway.
the sole of hawk's shoe feels punishing against his pulsing cock, his thighs stretching to find relief. knife-like pain grates across his ribs, stealing his breath and forcing his hand, his brows knotted as he moves, pressing his clenched fists to the small of his back. he feels the loss of sensation instantly, the desire to grip hawk by the hips and bring him close again running rampant through him.
stubbornly, he tries to shift away from hawk's hold, his knotted grip in his hair sending needles prickling across his skull. he has an unwilling flash of tim on his knees, hawk's hand shoved into his brown hair. is that what he sees? the sting of jealousy isn't as strong as he'd expect; he finds he doesn't want to be himself anyway, and it doesn't matter what hawk thinks as long as he stays. ]
You didn't let Tim touch you? [ he strains, his breath shuddering as sparks grind against his cock. this is too much like ash, lifting too many corners of his memory. ] Did you tie his hands up? Are we using the honor system today?
We've all been through it, but if you're that worried - you know where you ought to take a look?
[a pause for the hilarity of it, completely rhetorical.]
The hospital. Which is exactly where you fucking belong right now.
[hawk's gaze grows less tolerant, more condescending in the way he's looking down at embry through dark lashes and icy eyes. his struggles don't get him particularly far with the way his fingers are gripping at soft curls and the precise angle of his neck - but it's all the thoughts swirling inside that he can't piece together. on some level he realizes this must bring back memories of ash, but the fixation on tim...maybe it's just meant to put him off-foot, a gotcha moment to pull the rug out from under him after all. either way, it's all terribly juvenile. why can't he just fucking accept that people (hawk) care about him too?
he's refusing to mix the two, and nothing about the way his ferragamos are pressed against embry's throbbing cock reminds him of tim right now, no matter how many times he tries to push it into his face.
speaking of:]
I'll make this simple.
[hawk drops his free hand to circle around the base of his own flushed cock, pumping it good and firm to full attention. and then he guides it to the corner of embry's mouth with an unceremonious smack, dragging it against the corner of his lips slow.]
Keep your eyes open, hands where they are, and ask me nicely to suck my cock.
[the trade off is easy, the tip of hawk's oxfords pressing in harder, rubbing up and down slightly against the strained inseam of embry's pants, which he can tell aren't his favorites and immediately hates himself for paying that close of attention to his closet.]
Misbehave and you're getting them behind your back, strained enough to hurt more than I can tell you already do.
[which he doesn't want to have to resort to - preferring the pain he doles out to have a more pleasurable purpose. that, and the sole of his shoe lifts completely for a moment, removing all pressure.]
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no subject
if he was a better man, he'd tell hawk to get his foot off his dick and go back to tim's bedside. he'd make him some coffee to take with him, and offer one of his trusted secret service lingering outside to drive him back and forth so he wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep at the wheel. he'd give him a stack of books for tim to borrow. but if he does all of that, he'll be alone. and he's not a good man anyway.
the sole of hawk's shoe feels punishing against his pulsing cock, his thighs stretching to find relief. knife-like pain grates across his ribs, stealing his breath and forcing his hand, his brows knotted as he moves, pressing his clenched fists to the small of his back. he feels the loss of sensation instantly, the desire to grip hawk by the hips and bring him close again running rampant through him.
stubbornly, he tries to shift away from hawk's hold, his knotted grip in his hair sending needles prickling across his skull. he has an unwilling flash of tim on his knees, hawk's hand shoved into his brown hair. is that what he sees? the sting of jealousy isn't as strong as he'd expect; he finds he doesn't want to be himself anyway, and it doesn't matter what hawk thinks as long as he stays. ]
You didn't let Tim touch you? [ he strains, his breath shuddering as sparks grind against his cock. this is too much like ash, lifting too many corners of his memory. ] Did you tie his hands up? Are we using the honor system today?
no subject
We've all been through it, but if you're that worried - you know where you ought to take a look?
[a pause for the hilarity of it, completely rhetorical.]
The hospital. Which is exactly where you fucking belong right now.
[hawk's gaze grows less tolerant, more condescending in the way he's looking down at embry through dark lashes and icy eyes. his struggles don't get him particularly far with the way his fingers are gripping at soft curls and the precise angle of his neck - but it's all the thoughts swirling inside that he can't piece together. on some level he realizes this must bring back memories of ash, but the fixation on tim...maybe it's just meant to put him off-foot, a gotcha moment to pull the rug out from under him after all. either way, it's all terribly juvenile. why can't he just fucking accept that people (hawk) care about him too?
he's refusing to mix the two, and nothing about the way his ferragamos are pressed against embry's throbbing cock reminds him of tim right now, no matter how many times he tries to push it into his face.
speaking of:]
I'll make this simple.
[hawk drops his free hand to circle around the base of his own flushed cock, pumping it good and firm to full attention. and then he guides it to the corner of embry's mouth with an unceremonious smack, dragging it against the corner of his lips slow.]
Keep your eyes open, hands where they are, and ask me nicely to suck my cock.
[the trade off is easy, the tip of hawk's oxfords pressing in harder, rubbing up and down slightly against the strained inseam of embry's pants, which he can tell aren't his favorites and immediately hates himself for paying that close of attention to his closet.]
Misbehave and you're getting them behind your back, strained enough to hurt more than I can tell you already do.
[which he doesn't want to have to resort to - preferring the pain he doles out to have a more pleasurable purpose. that, and the sole of his shoe lifts completely for a moment, removing all pressure.]
So what'll it be?