[ Tim curls into him, hands against his chest not to keep any space between them but to curl into his clothes and keep him close. If he can feel the musculature beneath them, all the better, but the possessive hand on the back of his neck makes him shiver and nod, each agreement easier than the last. ]
I closed it.
[ It's a good thing he's following through on his offer, because Tim is watching his hands, gaze following the fingers flying across the screen with curiosity, wondering what kind of man has half a dozen people chauffeured home just to peel the one he wants to fuck off from the herd. It's as flattering as it is bizarre. He must be wealthy. Not that Tim cares about that sort of thing, but nobody could be horny enough to spend that kind of money, otherwise.
They push through the crowd, once he's satisfied that Frankie is taken care of, until they reach the door, and the rush of cool air and reality that hide behind it. It feels good on his flushed face, but not so much as Corry's attention, the indisputable fact that he wants him. ]
You can touch. But clothes stay on until we get where we're going. [ Smiling to himself, satisfied. ] Where is that, anyway?
[corry allows it, welcomes it, lets the warm press of tim's hands begin learning the shape of him beneath his clothes -- broad-shouldered, muscled, well-defined and gym-honed. a life of debauchery and late nights out demands a level of commitment to the physical, after all, since corrigan doesn't want to live a life made up of half-remembered hook-ups. he wants to commit the shivery nod, the flush on tim's cheeks to memory, in stunning clarity, so he can summon it when he's back halfway across the world, with someone else in his bed.
the night is chilly, rain-scented, the clouds looming overhead and threatening a downpour. corry barely spares them a glance, slipping his hand down from the back of tim's neck to between his shoulderblades, steering him gently towards a town car that's materialized out of nowhere. it's possible it's been here the whole time, knowing how much mr. molloy dislikes waiting for a ride.]
I suppose I can live with that. [a soft sigh, waving off the driver and opening the door to the warm, dark backseat himself.] Watch your head. The Ritz-Carlton. I have a suite there for the week. [once tim's settled, corry ducks inside the car too, closing them away in dimly-lit, soft-jazz-soundtracked privacy. the driver doesn't need any directions, clearly, and corry is already taking advantage of the darkness to slip his hand up under tim's shirt, thumbing over the line of his spine, fingers drawing tiny circles on his skin.] Not too far away. I'll try to behave.
[ It's cold out here, in his short shorts and tank top, and that chill remains even after he's herded into the car. Corry's hands are warm though, and they seem even hotter now, in the quiet of the car, away from the noise and the neon lights and the people. There's privacy now, and that only makes him hotter, as the reality of his choices settle in. It's easy enough to flirt with a stranger at a bar, that's what they're for, but now he's close, eyelids fluttering and leaning even closer. ]
Don't behave too much.
[ Through a wide grin, but softly, embarrassed about the possibility of the driver hearing him. Tim briefly wonders if he sees this kind of thing all the time, if he picks up Corry and his conquests all the time, or just for this short while he's in town. He turns, shifting to the side to watch Corry, the flex of his arm as he rubs his back. ]
[there are goosebumps over tim's bared shoulder, up his arm, the muscles working as he shivers, and god, corry wants to devour him, delighted by his genuine attempts at conversation, at propriety. it's charming, soft in a way corry's not used to. too used to flashy, disinterested, polished club boys and girls of la and new york, who climb in his lap the second the car door closes.
tim holds himself well, maturely, with dignity -- but he's real, not practiced and glossy-fake. he smiles and corry slips his arm up, palm smoothing around tim's shoulder, tucking him closer, because he believes that smile.]
You got it, babe. [corry himself is polished, but he rubs his palm up and down tim's arm, chasing away the chill with a brow-furrow of genuine concern.] Jesus, you're freezing -- neither of us wore a coat, hm? [usually he knows better, keeps a blanket folded in the back, something. for the moment, he satisfies himself with reaching to turn up the heat, aim the vents towards tim before settling back beside him, arm sliding back in place around his shoulders.]
On paper, Chicago, nice brownstone in Gold Coast. I travel almost full-time for work, though, so I'm only there holidays, usually. [the soft radio -- jazz, light and inoffensive -- is hardly loud enough to necessitate it, but corry leans in towards tim's air, breath tangible as he asks:] What about you? Local? Here in town for fun? Am I stealing you away from an unbearable bachelor party?
[ Tim is anything but disinterested, a layer of defense obliterated now that they’re on their own, away from all the eyes and ears at the club. Indeed, the temptation to slide into his lap is there, but he tucks into his side instead, gladly taking his body heat into himself. There’s a small twinge of disappointment when Corry says he doesn’t live here, coming from his own internal urge to look towards the future – but isn’t Frankie always telling him to spend more time living in the moment?
The goosebumps fade as nervousness gives way to warmth, to the comfortable state of wanting that keeps him pressed against Corry, neck bent to absorb his breath, his attention. ]
I’m local. [ Washington, DC. ] And it was a birthday. But we work together, I’ll see him Monday. Um, we work for a nonprofit. A resource center for queer youth. It barely pays the bills, but I love it. It’s the kind of thing I wish I had when I was a teenager, you know?
[ Does he? Maybe Corry’s family was more progressive than Tim’s. He doesn’t know the first thing about him. There’s a thrill and a worry in that, both. ]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-10-02 04:39 am (UTC)I closed it.
[ It's a good thing he's following through on his offer, because Tim is watching his hands, gaze following the fingers flying across the screen with curiosity, wondering what kind of man has half a dozen people chauffeured home just to peel the one he wants to fuck off from the herd. It's as flattering as it is bizarre. He must be wealthy. Not that Tim cares about that sort of thing, but nobody could be horny enough to spend that kind of money, otherwise.
They push through the crowd, once he's satisfied that Frankie is taken care of, until they reach the door, and the rush of cool air and reality that hide behind it. It feels good on his flushed face, but not so much as Corry's attention, the indisputable fact that he wants him. ]
You can touch. But clothes stay on until we get where we're going. [ Smiling to himself, satisfied. ] Where is that, anyway?
no subject
Date: 2025-10-03 02:11 am (UTC)the night is chilly, rain-scented, the clouds looming overhead and threatening a downpour. corry barely spares them a glance, slipping his hand down from the back of tim's neck to between his shoulderblades, steering him gently towards a town car that's materialized out of nowhere. it's possible it's been here the whole time, knowing how much mr. molloy dislikes waiting for a ride.]
I suppose I can live with that. [a soft sigh, waving off the driver and opening the door to the warm, dark backseat himself.] Watch your head. The Ritz-Carlton. I have a suite there for the week. [once tim's settled, corry ducks inside the car too, closing them away in dimly-lit, soft-jazz-soundtracked privacy. the driver doesn't need any directions, clearly, and corry is already taking advantage of the darkness to slip his hand up under tim's shirt, thumbing over the line of his spine, fingers drawing tiny circles on his skin.] Not too far away. I'll try to behave.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-31 03:45 am (UTC)Don't behave too much.
[ Through a wide grin, but softly, embarrassed about the possibility of the driver hearing him. Tim briefly wonders if he sees this kind of thing all the time, if he picks up Corry and his conquests all the time, or just for this short while he's in town. He turns, shifting to the side to watch Corry, the flex of his arm as he rubs his back. ]
For the week, you said. Where's home, then?
no subject
Date: 2025-11-15 04:21 am (UTC)tim holds himself well, maturely, with dignity -- but he's real, not practiced and glossy-fake. he smiles and corry slips his arm up, palm smoothing around tim's shoulder, tucking him closer, because he believes that smile.]
You got it, babe. [corry himself is polished, but he rubs his palm up and down tim's arm, chasing away the chill with a brow-furrow of genuine concern.] Jesus, you're freezing -- neither of us wore a coat, hm? [usually he knows better, keeps a blanket folded in the back, something. for the moment, he satisfies himself with reaching to turn up the heat, aim the vents towards tim before settling back beside him, arm sliding back in place around his shoulders.]
On paper, Chicago, nice brownstone in Gold Coast. I travel almost full-time for work, though, so I'm only there holidays, usually. [the soft radio -- jazz, light and inoffensive -- is hardly loud enough to necessitate it, but corry leans in towards tim's air, breath tangible as he asks:] What about you? Local? Here in town for fun? Am I stealing you away from an unbearable bachelor party?
no subject
Date: 2026-01-06 04:41 pm (UTC)The goosebumps fade as nervousness gives way to warmth, to the comfortable state of wanting that keeps him pressed against Corry, neck bent to absorb his breath, his attention. ]
I’m local. [ Washington, DC. ] And it was a birthday. But we work together, I’ll see him Monday. Um, we work for a nonprofit. A resource center for queer youth. It barely pays the bills, but I love it. It’s the kind of thing I wish I had when I was a teenager, you know?
[ Does he? Maybe Corry’s family was more progressive than Tim’s. He doesn’t know the first thing about him. There’s a thrill and a worry in that, both. ]