[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
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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?
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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. ]