[Which he does, after lord knows how long he puts up with the war of the med tents. When he returns to his own tent he is exhausted mentally and it shows.]
[ Tim greets him with excitement, all of his irritation from before compartmentalized into a little box just for Mr. Strange. And for Harry, all love. He marks his place in his book, sets it aside, and springs to his feet, sauntering over to take his hand and plant a warm kiss right on his lips. It’s so painfully domestic that he can’t help but smile even wider. ]
Welcome back.
[ Harry looks tired. So he wraps his arms around him, pulling him in, letting him lean against him if he’d like to. ]
I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks during the library downtime. You’d be amazed how many people here just don’t read.
[ It’s lake water, wood shavings, and sweat. He smells like...camping. But it’s sweet of him to think so. ]
Hold that thought.
[ Tim pulls away, towards the pile of blankets near their sleeping bag that they’ve used for padding more than anything else, and pulls a thin wooden whipping cane from it, sanded and polished perfectly smooth, and presents it to Harry. His initials are engraved into the handle, not an expert HG, but it’s perfectly legible. ]
We don’t have to try it now, if you’re not in the mood. But until we can see if your implements survived the fire, I thought you should have something.
[Harry watches Tim move about with a little smile. When he's presented with the gift he gasps and looks at Tim with eyes that are shining with joy. Leave it to Harry to nearly cry over discipline gear.]
Oh, Tim! You made this? It's beautiful! I-- Thank you!
[ He’s fixed up the chapel so many times that he’s beginning to quite enjoy woodworking, actually, so he lights up like a candle at Harry’s enthusiasm, relieved that he likes it. Tim laughs, happy to be pulled into another hug, and leaves Harry little kisses against the side of his head. ]
Oh, no I’m not. I’ve been very bad. [ Playful, grinning. ] I had so many impure thoughts making it, that I forgot to return the high grit sandpaper to the supply tent.
[ He kisses back with warm, inviting lips, one hand settling on the side of his face - the one opposite of the eyepatch, still concerned about disturbing his healing. First he'd mutilated himself to keep his hands, then he'd gone to borderline-deranged places to alleviate Tim's pain, and now some jerk is calling his dedication to his profession into question?
Maybe he's feeling a little protective. Or possessive. They don't know Harry like he does. They don't understand. ]
[Harry tries very hard to do his job well, but he is forever haunted by the ghosts of over a hundred men he could not save. It puts him in a strange mental space where he feels very defensive but also deeply insecure.]
Mmm. Yes. You enjoy your discipline.
[Kissing back some more. Eye be damned, he wants affection.]
[ Tim knows the guilt the man carries, the way he blames himself for a situation that completely out of his control. History days those men were doomed the day they stepped onto those ships, nothing that Harry could have done would change that. But Tim was bred for guilt. He knows that rationalizations don’t have anything to do with alleviating shame. Harry will be haunted by it, no matter how many times he tells him he doesn’t need to be.
He may not have been in control then, but Tim can give him that here, when they’re alone and he’s got frustrations to burn. ]
I love it.
[ Moaning softly into the kiss, fingers ghosting over the buttons on the front of his shirt, but waiting for Harry to take it further, if he chooses to. He'd trust him over any other doctor here, past or present, with his body or his heart. ]
[Harry is a very prim and proper man... in public. In the privacy of their tent, though, he feels no shame in what he wants to do to Tim.
He kisses him back and fumbles to get his buttons undone, discarding his shirt with a few sharp motions. He kisses Tim again, tugging at Tim's soft as well even though he seems reluctant to allow the time and space for Tim to actually get it off.]
[ His nails rake up the expanse of his chest, scratching through course hair and thumbing over his nipples, soft sounds into his mouth as he drinks him in. Whatever shame he was supposed to feel from the other night is gone, replaced with pure need. To claim him as his, to further cement himself as the one Harry needs to vent out his frustrations, who can give him anything and make him feel capable and powerful. He's a good man, he deserves that. ]
You're in charge. [ Taking advantage of the break in the kiss to pull his shirt off, noting Harry's hopeful nudging. ] Where do you want me?
[Harry gives his love very easily to people - some would say naively so - but what he feels for Tim is on a level that borders on obsessive. The second Tim has his shirt off Harry is on him again, kissing his neck, the lovely curve of one shoulder.
He has to pull back to look around, having a whole new blind spot he's not used to. The tent is severely lacking in anything to bend Tim over.]
The sleeping bag. Arms and knees on the floor, arse in the air, please.
[There's pillows, too, to put under Tim's knees for comfort. A funny thing to think of, he supposes, considering what he's planning to do.]
[ Obsession. Worship. Love. It's all the same to him, one bleeding into the next like the imagined wounds on his hands just days before, life dripping out on himself, on Harry, in the sleeping bag they've been sharing. It takes devotion to be enveloped in one another so thoroughly, to let another person in so deep that they can hurt you. That you want them to. ]
Yes, sir.
[ Tim plucks open the button, unzips his short jean shorts, and pulls them down, asking as he steps out: ]
What am I being disciplined for?
[ Part of the game for him, something to focus on, an improvement to strive for so that he can relax enough to take it. Tim's transgressions are rarely so serious as they were in June, but there has to be something, no matter how small. ]
Well...Hawk. [ Obviously. But he lowers himself to his knees, so that he's looking up at Harry, cheeks tinged with pink. Tim tries not to look, he really does, but the house has made that difficult, providing these tiny little shorts for everyone and forcing them outside in the peak of summer, covered in sweat and lake water. ] And, um. I was watching people swim. With Koby.
[ Shanks emerging from the water, sun shining on glistening, wet muscles, shorts clinging and leaving very little to the imagination. And, well...Koby's told him some things... ]
I have. Passing thoughts, nothing happened.
[ His face burns with shame, regardless, as he crawls over to the sleeping bag, arching his back and pressing his face down against the cushioned bag. ]
Hawkins, obviously, yes. [Who doesn't look at Hawk? Well. Some women he supposes. But what he wants to hear about is the others.
Harry isn't particularly upset - he'd be the worst hypocrite if he were - but he knows that Tim will feel guilty about it. And that's what they need here. He lets Tim crawl into position with real pleasure.]
Who was it?
[Partly the need to humiliate, but mostly genuine curiosity.
Harry moves behind Tim and again tests the heft of the cane, lining himself up so he can gently tap it over the swell of Tim's buttocks.]
[ Tim's face turns to the side, still pressed against the sleeping bag, but facing outwards enough that he can answer. Even if he would prefer not to - Harry's right, he is ashamed of it. It was energy he could have given Harry instead. He doesn't even want him. ]
Shanks. We work together at Dead Men. I would never-- he's a terrible judge of character.
[ He shivers at the cool touch of wood against his ass. Pleasure, anticipation, the smallest bite of fear. Tim made the thing, he thinks he should know what to expect, but he hadn’t tested it. No one ought to be using it but the man carved into the handle. Hopefully it's sturdy enough, and the marks it leaves are raw and pink enough, to overcome whatever disappointment his confession provokes. ]
But he was swimming around shirtless, and he's got a connection with Koby, so I know some things, so I wondered what it would be like. Just for a minute.
[ The first one’s just a tease. Tim is looking at Harry over his shoulder, he knows it’s coming, but it still pushes a gasp out of him, a twitch of his cock, encouraging it to swell further as it hangs, untouched, between his legs. But the second. He can hear the thin, sturdy length of the cane whip through the air before it makes contact with a stinging whack. The point of impact is smaller than the tawse, but no less punishing. Only concentrated, the pain singing from the fleshy curve of his ass from the first real smack.
He’s a good sport about it. Stoic, for now. ]
Koby said...and, um, I could see with his shorts clinging to him. He's a large man, and it’s...proportional. [ He’s 6’6” and broad, what do you expect? ] He’s got the same kind of feeling-magic stuff as Koby, but a lot more powerful. So...
[ Shame burns in him anew. Thinking about it was bad enough, now he’s sharing with Harry? Best friends whispering and giggling about their lovers is one thing, but telling one lover that a man you’ve no intention of ever touching is probably a great lay? It feels wrong. ]
[Said with that dry, polite sounding amusement that Harry is capable of when he's comfortable.]
I think that you would enjoy it as well. Someone who could read your every desire, your every emotion. He'd know what to do with you instinctively.
You feel badly about wanting that, don't you?
[Three strikes, each with a pause in between. They land in a line, one above the other. Harry pays close attention to the skin - the tool is new to him and he doesn't want to accidentally cut Tim's ass up.]
[ He waits for the break between the strikes, focus tuning into the fire in his swatted cheek, three pink lines like tally marks, counting every sinful thought. Harry sounds curious more than stern, but the way he puts it makes Tim feel awfully guilty, as if a handful of stray, unserious thoughts were somehow indicative of something lacking in Harry. Maybe he’s not as muscular, and he doesn’t have any superhuman enhancements – that doesn’t matter. He’ll always fuck him better because he loves him, because Tim wouldn’t always be wondering if he wouldn’t condone playing games with everyone’s lives, too. ]
I already have that. [ Gripping the sleeping bag tightly in his fists, breathing forced even. ] You and Hawk don’t need magic to know me like that. So it’s just...greed, to want it somewhere else. Even if I only thought about it for a minute. I’m sorry.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-08-22 04:25 pm (UTC)No. Sorry if that's a disappointment. It's a gift. I made something for you.
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Date: 2025-08-22 04:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-22 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-08-22 04:37 pm (UTC)[Which he does, after lord knows how long he puts up with the war of the med tents. When he returns to his own tent he is exhausted mentally and it shows.]
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Date: 2025-08-22 05:25 pm (UTC)Welcome back.
[ Harry looks tired. So he wraps his arms around him, pulling him in, letting him lean against him if he’d like to. ]
I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks during the library downtime. You’d be amazed how many people here just don’t read.
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Date: 2025-08-22 05:30 pm (UTC)I really wouldn't, actually.
You smell good.
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Date: 2025-08-22 06:00 pm (UTC)Hold that thought.
[ Tim pulls away, towards the pile of blankets near their sleeping bag that they’ve used for padding more than anything else, and pulls a thin wooden whipping cane from it, sanded and polished perfectly smooth, and presents it to Harry. His initials are engraved into the handle, not an expert HG, but it’s perfectly legible. ]
We don’t have to try it now, if you’re not in the mood. But until we can see if your implements survived the fire, I thought you should have something.
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Date: 2025-08-22 06:20 pm (UTC)Oh, Tim! You made this? It's beautiful! I-- Thank you!
[Oh, he's getting such a hug.]
You are the most amazing man.
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Date: 2025-08-22 06:35 pm (UTC)Oh, no I’m not. I’ve been very bad. [ Playful, grinning. ] I had so many impure thoughts making it, that I forgot to return the high grit sandpaper to the supply tent.
[ The scandal. ]
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Date: 2025-08-22 06:53 pm (UTC)[Harry laughs, though, turning to kiss Tim properly on the mouth. All of his previous anxiety has vanished, all of his exhaustion forgotten.]
I cannot explain to you how deeply I appreciate that you indulge me so. You make me feel so... normal.
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Date: 2025-08-22 07:37 pm (UTC)Maybe he's feeling a little protective. Or possessive. They don't know Harry like he does. They don't understand. ]
I did warn you. It's a little bit for me, too.
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Date: 2025-08-22 08:52 pm (UTC)Mmm. Yes. You enjoy your discipline.
[Kissing back some more. Eye be damned, he wants affection.]
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Date: 2025-08-22 09:40 pm (UTC)He may not have been in control then, but Tim can give him that here, when they’re alone and he’s got frustrations to burn. ]
I love it.
[ Moaning softly into the kiss, fingers ghosting over the buttons on the front of his shirt, but waiting for Harry to take it further, if he chooses to. He'd trust him over any other doctor here, past or present, with his body or his heart. ]
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Date: 2025-08-22 10:59 pm (UTC)He kisses him back and fumbles to get his buttons undone, discarding his shirt with a few sharp motions. He kisses Tim again, tugging at Tim's soft as well even though he seems reluctant to allow the time and space for Tim to actually get it off.]
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Date: 2025-08-23 05:33 am (UTC)You're in charge. [ Taking advantage of the break in the kiss to pull his shirt off, noting Harry's hopeful nudging. ] Where do you want me?
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Date: 2025-08-23 05:45 pm (UTC)He has to pull back to look around, having a whole new blind spot he's not used to. The tent is severely lacking in anything to bend Tim over.]
The sleeping bag. Arms and knees on the floor, arse in the air, please.
[There's pillows, too, to put under Tim's knees for comfort. A funny thing to think of, he supposes, considering what he's planning to do.]
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Date: 2025-08-24 05:39 am (UTC)Yes, sir.
[ Tim plucks open the button, unzips his short jean shorts, and pulls them down, asking as he steps out: ]
What am I being disciplined for?
[ Part of the game for him, something to focus on, an improvement to strive for so that he can relax enough to take it. Tim's transgressions are rarely so serious as they were in June, but there has to be something, no matter how small. ]
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Date: 2025-08-24 06:19 am (UTC)Harry tests the weight of the cane against his hand. For a moment his mind is blank and he nearly responds that Tim never does anything wrong.]
Tell me, Tim... have you had carnal thoughts about other men in the camp?
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Date: 2025-08-24 05:01 pm (UTC)[ Shanks emerging from the water, sun shining on glistening, wet muscles, shorts clinging and leaving very little to the imagination. And, well...Koby's told him some things... ]
I have. Passing thoughts, nothing happened.
[ His face burns with shame, regardless, as he crawls over to the sleeping bag, arching his back and pressing his face down against the cushioned bag. ]
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Date: 2025-08-24 07:00 pm (UTC)Harry isn't particularly upset - he'd be the worst hypocrite if he were - but he knows that Tim will feel guilty about it. And that's what they need here. He lets Tim crawl into position with real pleasure.]
Who was it?
[Partly the need to humiliate, but mostly genuine curiosity.
Harry moves behind Tim and again tests the heft of the cane, lining himself up so he can gently tap it over the swell of Tim's buttocks.]
Who, Tim?
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Date: 2025-08-25 02:33 am (UTC)Shanks. We work together at Dead Men. I would never-- he's a terrible judge of character.
[ He shivers at the cool touch of wood against his ass. Pleasure, anticipation, the smallest bite of fear. Tim made the thing, he thinks he should know what to expect, but he hadn’t tested it. No one ought to be using it but the man carved into the handle. Hopefully it's sturdy enough, and the marks it leaves are raw and pink enough, to overcome whatever disappointment his confession provokes. ]
But he was swimming around shirtless, and he's got a connection with Koby, so I know some things, so I wondered what it would be like. Just for a minute.
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Date: 2025-08-25 05:36 am (UTC)[Masculine. Something Harry finds lacking in himself.
Lightly, testing, he whacks Tim across the flesh at the bottom of his ass.]
What things do you know, Tim? Details of his cockstand? How he fucks? Don't be shy now.
[Another strike; this one proper. And oh, the rod is near perfect, he thinks. An extension of his own arm, crafted with love.]
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Date: 2025-08-25 02:37 pm (UTC)He’s a good sport about it. Stoic, for now. ]
Koby said...and, um, I could see with his shorts clinging to him. He's a large man, and it’s...proportional. [ He’s 6’6” and broad, what do you expect? ] He’s got the same kind of feeling-magic stuff as Koby, but a lot more powerful. So...
[ Shame burns in him anew. Thinking about it was bad enough, now he’s sharing with Harry? Best friends whispering and giggling about their lovers is one thing, but telling one lover that a man you’ve no intention of ever touching is probably a great lay? It feels wrong. ]
They use that. Koby really likes it.
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Date: 2025-08-25 04:10 pm (UTC)[Said with that dry, polite sounding amusement that Harry is capable of when he's comfortable.]
I think that you would enjoy it as well. Someone who could read your every desire, your every emotion. He'd know what to do with you instinctively.
You feel badly about wanting that, don't you?
[Three strikes, each with a pause in between. They land in a line, one above the other. Harry pays close attention to the skin - the tool is new to him and he doesn't want to accidentally cut Tim's ass up.]
Tell me why.
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Date: 2025-08-25 05:15 pm (UTC)[ He waits for the break between the strikes, focus tuning into the fire in his swatted cheek, three pink lines like tally marks, counting every sinful thought. Harry sounds curious more than stern, but the way he puts it makes Tim feel awfully guilty, as if a handful of stray, unserious thoughts were somehow indicative of something lacking in Harry. Maybe he’s not as muscular, and he doesn’t have any superhuman enhancements – that doesn’t matter. He’ll always fuck him better because he loves him, because Tim wouldn’t always be wondering if he wouldn’t condone playing games with everyone’s lives, too. ]
I already have that. [ Gripping the sleeping bag tightly in his fists, breathing forced even. ] You and Hawk don’t need magic to know me like that. So it’s just...greed, to want it somewhere else. Even if I only thought about it for a minute. I’m sorry.
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