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He looks softer in his sleep, Hawk muses; fingertips lightly skimming over the ridge of Tim’s cheek bone, the curve of his ear feeling the small indent from where the frames of his spectacles rest whenever he’s awake. It’s not something he thought was possible, because Tim usually had that soft, honest, pure, puppy-like aura around him that made it so delicious when Hawk got to corrupt him, to twist him into a pretzel and fuck him. Get him to spill moans like a mafia snitch spills secrets before he ends up in a ditch.
It's the lack of guilt, he decides eventually; the warm sunlight spilling in through the gauzy curtains dancing over Tim’s bare, freckled shoulder. Hawk trails his fingertip from one cinnamon-speckled kiss right on the curve of it, to another. Tim snuffles in his sleep before settling back down again; reaching out towards him almost instinctively.
When he’s awake, Tim is weighed down by the exhausting heaviness of his supposed moral sins. He’s gotten better at hiding it, sure, the smiles are less strained now, less naïve too which is a shame, and he tries his best—for himself, or for Hawk, or maybe for his God who knows—to act like he doesn’t care that he’s at war with himself internally, that he doesn’t ache to be able to just be himself, his true self, without hiding even a part of it.
Hawk’s had more practice over the years of perfecting the façade. It still cuts deep though; he can’t imagine how much someone like Tim, someone so good, is truly handling the pain. Maybe he should let him in on the secret he’s learned over the years about bathrooms—the ones in public are for pissing and fucking in, the one at home is where you turn on the shower and sob at the unfairness of it all where no one can hear you.
The glint of Tim’s gold cross necklace bounces on the ceiling from where the sun now shines on the wooden bed post; the fine chain hanging from it rather than Tim’s neck. It’s almost a ritual now. Tim removes his clothing on Hawk’s order, chucking it to the floor, and then does the same with Hawk’s, making sure to fold his neatly. The cross necklace and Tim’s spectacles left for Hawk to remove when he feels like it—
The spectacles gently removed from Tim’s pretty face when he wants the younger man blinking up at him with slightly unfocused and pleasure-glazed eyes. The cross necklace carefully lifted up over his head when Hawk’s had enough of God being a third wheel to their intimate relationship. The little quirk to Tim’s plush mouth as Hawk tries not to yank it off with a growl is one of his favourites.
It’s why Hawk loves having Tim underneath him; crying out his name over and over, a prayer, a vow, an absolution for them both maybe, as he fucks into him; the few licks of spit he’d used to slick the way doing nothing compared to how the demanding snap of his hips shoves his cock deep inside Tim’s hole. The enthusiastic spread of Tim’s legs and the needy clench of his ass plays their part too.
Guilt no longer clinging to his skin, only sweat.
But when he has Tim writhing on the sheets; mouth slack, breaths juddering where he can’t quite draw enough oxygen into his lungs, fingers lax above his head not even bothering to reach in between them to fist his own cock—
When he has his beautiful Skippy so vulnerable and trusting beneath him, he can’t help but feel a little conflicted; it’s a tragedy that the world isn’t ready to accept Tim for all as he is, doesn’t like that he understands how America, hell, the whole world, will never fully be able to accept someone as beautiful as Tim Laughlin. Himself not being accepted is an easier burden to bear than Tim being callously cast aside by society just because he likes to take it up the ass and loves Hawk. For his sins.
Though Tim would probably say loving him is the least sinful pastime he indulges in. Or maybe it’s the most despite the lack of bodily fluids involved?
Part of him can’t help but feel the teensiest bit pleased though, that no one else gets to see Tim like this. No one else deserves to see this softness. Not that he does either, but he’s selfish enough to glut himself on it seeing as Tim is foolish enough to deem him worthy enough to witness it.
“You’re staring.”
He flicks his gaze from the dip of Tim’s waist up to his face and smirks, “my boy is a beautiful sight to wake up to.” Hawk wonders what he would say if he knew the real reason he calls him Skippy is because from the very first moment he’d seen him, leaning over that bar just to order a glass of milk, he had made Hawk’s heart skip a beat.
Knowing Tim, he’d probably like that.
Tim hums; wiping sleep from his eye. He doesn’t mention that they’re unlikely to wake up again together like this, at least for a good while. Hawk usually greets the morning sun alone. He definitely doesn’t greet it with a smile.
This morning is different.
“You been awake long?”
“A little while,” he strokes a hand over Tim’s hip; cups his soft cock and the delicate pouch of his testicles, rolls them in his palm, rubs at the velvety cockhead with his thumb. Tim sucks in a shaky breath; only moves his hand to grip at Hawk’s shoulder, dark brown eyes searing into him. He feels his boy’s cock start to fill out in his grip and revels in the eagerness of it, the heavy ache of his balls.
He lets Tim’s cock and balls go once the hard length is straining against his belly; precome pearling at the tip. Scratches his nails along his flank and down; in between his round cheeks to the tender hole in between. His come still stains the pink, puffy rim. Marks Tim as his as much as the guttural whine of his name does. He’s fucked others bare before, but this is different. He’d been quick to see those men wash themselves clean; with Tim, he can’t wait to spill hot and wet inside of him again.
The fact that it’s more than once at all, marking this as something unlike anything that had come before.
“H-Hawk,” Tim mewls; pushing his ass back against his probing fingers. Two slip inside him with barely any resistance.
“What is it?”
“Just checking it is actually you,” Tim grins; cupping Hawk’s lightly-stubbled cheek, thumbing at his bottom lip, “didn’t think you actually existed at this time in the morning.”
Hawk nips at his thumb in reprimand for the snark and curls his fingers; jabbing against Tim’s prostate making him gasp. “Don’t worry, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be remembering this morning for a long time to come, Skippy.”
He pulls his fingers free, rolls Tim onto his back and draping his long legs over his shoulders; he guides his fat cock into the younger man; his hole clenching down around him immediately, trying to suck him in deeper. Hawk cradles Tim’s cheek; their mouths scant inches from each other, sharing breaths as he begins to roll his hips. Tim stares into his eyes; every emotion he’s feeling swirling in their dark depths.
Hawk can’t look away.
He fucks into Tim deep and slow; every wet drag of his cock rubbing against his swollen insides and making him arch up into him.
He doesn’t do Tim’s softness justice. He tries; tries not to fuck him like an animal this time, or like someone who can only handle harsh emotions because those are easier than the other type. He kisses him; sipping at his lips as he grinds his cock into the gape of his hole, and carding his fingers through his silky hair.
He doesn’t muffle Tim’s moans this time; swallows them down instead. Wishes there were more.
“Whose are you?” he asks; words barely a whisper against Tim’s skin. He sounds less confident than the night before; the early morning sun giving him less shadows to hide in.
Tim responds without hesitation anyway.
“Yours,” he pants, undulating beneath him and running his hands up and down the length of his spine. “I belong to Hawkins Fuller.”
Hawk buries his face in the sweat-slick curve of Tim’s neck with a wordless sob. Tim cups the back of his head, crying out his release and painting their bellies with his come a few minutes later. Hawk follows him over the edge; marking Tim with his spend, whole body shuddering as he comes.
Tim pets his nape, humming in contentment. He knows right then the words that Hawk can’t say. Knows that Hawk belongs to Tim Laughlin in return.
There’s no one else he’d risk it all to wake up next to, just for one day.