[ Despite his little arrangement with Koby and Quentin, Tim doesn’t consider himself an exhibitionist, nor does the risk of getting caught carry any thrill for him. It hits too close to home to be fun, when before, it would have ruined his life, it stopped anything that could have (what has), in a better world, been a real relationship dead in its tracks. The thrill comes from telling Hawk that he would be worth it. He’s worth the humiliation or the scolding that’ll come if he’s found out, and he’s worth the earful he’ll get for the glass he drops when he dials it up, the sudden vibration sending a hot jolt through him. The sort that would make his back arch and lips part, begging for more, if they were alone. But they're not, so the glass shatters as blood rushes south, he apologizes profusely as he seeks out a broom to sweep it up. A solid, if unintentional, cover for the flush on his face.
He takes the time to adjust himself while he’s crouched on the floor, sweeping. Find a comfortable spot that won’t make an obvious tent in his pants next to his coworkers. When he stands again, he attempts to give Hawk a little glare, but it comes across more baby deer in the headlights. ]
Did I miss it?
[ He asks, knowing good and well that he did not, because he got some of the juice on his finger and was not subtle in the least about licking it off, since he is simply incapable of forgetting that Hawk’s eyes are on him for a single second. The thought does occur to him to flick another cherry at him, but he doesn’t. Unprofessional. Tim leans in as if he really is about to pop a cherry right into his mouth...and then pulls back, plopping it into Hawk’s drink instead. The only payback he can deliver on the clock ]
I still have another hour, you know. And I need to go replace this glass. Don’t follow me.
[well, there is a flicker of guilt as hawk turns it back down after the smash of glass and crackle of it underfoot behind the bar. he hadn't meant for it to be distracting enough to get hurt or mess anything up, even if regular accidents can happen all the time and no one else apparently seems the wiser. he's expecting tim to whirl around with a furious glare and a flush that'll soften it, a taut line to his body that hawk knows just how to pluck and soothe - enough so that he can mouth a quick sorry that's actually sincere. but instead tim dutifully crouches down, tending to the fragments of it and emerging shortly after with a look that's more dazed than angry. well in that case - ]
No. I'm just greedy.
[a winsome grin, the one flashing his pearly whites as he leans in, and in, and in - thinking he's gotten him hook, line, and sinker - only for the glass to splash a little droplet against his wrist as tim forcefully dips it into his drink instead. maybe that's another win all on its own somehow, and he can't help the reluctant smirk creeping up at the protest. hawk holds up his hands as if to prove his innocence - both of them, at least until he sees tim's back as it retreats down the hall. hawk busies himself with his drink, pretending to keep sipping at it even as his hand slips casually back into his pocket after enough time has passed to turn it back up at a consistent, more urgent pulse now. he's in the back - if he has the sense, he'll have locked the door.
because hawk doesn't miss the details. he doesn't miss that everyone else's glass is full, and that there are plenty of other replacements behind the bar that didn't need to come from a closet or a back room. a lot can make an hour pass faster, but it isn't going to be the lull in need for service out here. hawk resists the urge to pluck out a cigarette, instead draining his drink dry and waiting a little bit longer before he rises and adjusts his suit as if he's simply on a stroll to the men's room, or back into the depths of the manor. but of course he's not, reading between the lines and knowing that even if tim demanded one thing, he'll acquiesce to another. thankfully he doesn't have to guess where to go - door tipped open and the line of his lover's shoulder visible as he slides inside before closing and locking the door behind them.]
Need some help? Let me give you a hand.
[a hand to fix around his waist, sliding up behind him and caging him against rows of boxes and glasses and whatever else is in this storage closet without a care for anything but the dull ache he knows tim must be feeling by now.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-02-24 09:33 pm (UTC)He takes the time to adjust himself while he’s crouched on the floor, sweeping. Find a comfortable spot that won’t make an obvious tent in his pants next to his coworkers. When he stands again, he attempts to give Hawk a little glare, but it comes across more baby deer in the headlights. ]
Did I miss it?
[ He asks, knowing good and well that he did not, because he got some of the juice on his finger and was not subtle in the least about licking it off, since he is simply incapable of forgetting that Hawk’s eyes are on him for a single second. The thought does occur to him to flick another cherry at him, but he doesn’t. Unprofessional. Tim leans in as if he really is about to pop a cherry right into his mouth...and then pulls back, plopping it into Hawk’s drink instead. The only payback he can deliver on the clock ]
I still have another hour, you know. And I need to go replace this glass. Don’t follow me.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-10 05:30 am (UTC)No. I'm just greedy.
[a winsome grin, the one flashing his pearly whites as he leans in, and in, and in - thinking he's gotten him hook, line, and sinker - only for the glass to splash a little droplet against his wrist as tim forcefully dips it into his drink instead. maybe that's another win all on its own somehow, and he can't help the reluctant smirk creeping up at the protest. hawk holds up his hands as if to prove his innocence - both of them, at least until he sees tim's back as it retreats down the hall. hawk busies himself with his drink, pretending to keep sipping at it even as his hand slips casually back into his pocket after enough time has passed to turn it back up at a consistent, more urgent pulse now. he's in the back - if he has the sense, he'll have locked the door.
because hawk doesn't miss the details. he doesn't miss that everyone else's glass is full, and that there are plenty of other replacements behind the bar that didn't need to come from a closet or a back room. a lot can make an hour pass faster, but it isn't going to be the lull in need for service out here. hawk resists the urge to pluck out a cigarette, instead draining his drink dry and waiting a little bit longer before he rises and adjusts his suit as if he's simply on a stroll to the men's room, or back into the depths of the manor. but of course he's not, reading between the lines and knowing that even if tim demanded one thing, he'll acquiesce to another. thankfully he doesn't have to guess where to go - door tipped open and the line of his lover's shoulder visible as he slides inside before closing and locking the door behind them.]
Need some help? Let me give you a hand.
[a hand to fix around his waist, sliding up behind him and caging him against rows of boxes and glasses and whatever else is in this storage closet without a care for anything but the dull ache he knows tim must be feeling by now.]