[it's not tim's first shift at the bar, and it's not even the first one hawk's dropped in on. jacaerys has been a terrifically delectable distraction, obliging him for a few extra drop ins when the piano bar or a smoke with friends like louis doesn't quite cut it. part of him still thinks it's silly for tim to be working a job, let alone one he isn't even getting paid for - but he seems content enough that hawk can only deign to just: suck it up for a few hours. it's funny how a few months ago he would have balked at such saccharine behavior and called bullshit. but a few months ago hawk wasn't in love with timothy laughlin.
except that's not true either. alright, amendment: a few months ago hawk wasn't letting himself be in love with timothy laughlin. death has a funny way of changing all that, though. tim's more than his own, and he hasn't wasted a goddamn minute ever since.
that's why he's here now, looking smitten as tim does something as mundane as buff out the surface of the bar after he's slid over his preferred drink. but he can't fool hawk from catching the nervous way his eyes keep glancing over to the hand that's not resting around his glass - the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. he's not fidgeting per se, but hawk can tell from enough mornings in close quarters with tim in the bathroom and tidying up their shared suite to know that his motions aren't quite as coordinated in the way he flits around with a determination - if anything, they're a bit more cautious and restrained. it's cute, really - enough to have hawk lifting his brows and raising his glass - still one-handed - in a salute to his partner.
all of this because he knows tim is waiting for the other shoe to drop. he's waiting to see when hawk's hand will shift into his pocket and press a thumb over the small, remote control device that will send waves of vibration through the toy pressed up into his tight little hole where no one is the wiser. no one except hawk, taking his sweet time with the whiskey and licking his lips. there's a pleasant, teasing smile offered back to tim to put him at ease and simultaneously keep him on his toes. in fact, it's not until he's bent over a few minutes later and checking something under the fridges in the bar that his hand sneaks inside, thumbing the now-familiar button that will nudge it up two levels to a pleasant, manageable pulse.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
โค ๐๐๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐ค๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
Date: 2025-01-28 03:35 am (UTC)[it's not tim's first shift at the bar, and it's not even the first one hawk's dropped in on. jacaerys has been a terrifically delectable distraction, obliging him for a few extra drop ins when the piano bar or a smoke with friends like louis doesn't quite cut it. part of him still thinks it's silly for tim to be working a job, let alone one he isn't even getting paid for - but he seems content enough that hawk can only deign to just: suck it up for a few hours. it's funny how a few months ago he would have balked at such saccharine behavior and called bullshit. but a few months ago hawk wasn't in love with timothy laughlin.
except that's not true either. alright, amendment: a few months ago hawk wasn't letting himself be in love with timothy laughlin. death has a funny way of changing all that, though. tim's more than his own, and he hasn't wasted a goddamn minute ever since.
that's why he's here now, looking smitten as tim does something as mundane as buff out the surface of the bar after he's slid over his preferred drink. but he can't fool hawk from catching the nervous way his eyes keep glancing over to the hand that's not resting around his glass - the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. he's not fidgeting per se, but hawk can tell from enough mornings in close quarters with tim in the bathroom and tidying up their shared suite to know that his motions aren't quite as coordinated in the way he flits around with a determination - if anything, they're a bit more cautious and restrained. it's cute, really - enough to have hawk lifting his brows and raising his glass - still one-handed - in a salute to his partner.
all of this because he knows tim is waiting for the other shoe to drop. he's waiting to see when hawk's hand will shift into his pocket and press a thumb over the small, remote control device that will send waves of vibration through the toy pressed up into his tight little hole where no one is the wiser. no one except hawk, taking his sweet time with the whiskey and licking his lips. there's a pleasant, teasing smile offered back to tim to put him at ease and simultaneously keep him on his toes. in fact, it's not until he's bent over a few minutes later and checking something under the fridges in the bar that his hand sneaks inside, thumbing the now-familiar button that will nudge it up two levels to a pleasant, manageable pulse.]