[ his first thought is that hawk isn't listening to a goddamn thing he's saying. his second is that he shouldn't look that unfairly hot while he's making his bed with cutting precision. embry feels like an oaf as he watches hawk's nimble fingers tuck the sheets and smooth out the wrinkles, making his linens look artful, a perfect canvas for another round of sex if embry was sure it wouldn't kill him. his mind is desperate for a distraction — screaming for it, really, in the way that he used to get when he needed ash to hold him down and shut him up.
it doesn't help when hawk crowds his space, embry maintaining both his balance and composure by summoning some hidden reservoir of his waning fortitude. the wash of hawk's smoky breath against his skin sends a shudder rattling through him, his fingers curling weakly around the fabric of hawk's blazer, right by his hip, while he struggles momentarily to breathe. thick, liquid desire pools at his core while static fills his chest, anxious fear warring with his want.
he's not going to fire hawk, though in this moment he really fucking desperately wants to. he wants to not need him, because he wants to not need anybody. needing ash has ruined him, left him wandering out in the cold like a kicked dog on a short chain, and he realizes that he's fallen into the same trap here, that he's allowed hawk to somehow seep into the brittle cracks of his heart.
it would be a relief to submit to a command, and still everything in him struggles against it even knowing that he's going to lose. he's already lost, because he can't let go of hawk. not like this. ]
Bring me some aspirin.
[ even an order sounds like a defeat, and for a moment he's pressed too close — they're pressed too close, heat and breath mingling, and the rush of it all has him unsteady, his palms pressing to hawk's ribs through the fabric of his clothes. eyes shuttering, his damp temple tips against hawk's cheek, and he lingers, wanting to go limp against him and simply forget. forget this night, and all the things he already can't remember. forget all the tumult that lies between them. forget all the reasons that he shouldn't just let their lips touch, despite barely being able to stand.
his senses, or what little is left of them, return to him, and he slowly pulls away, unbelting his robe and shrugging it off as he turns his back, exposing his lean muscles and the scar tissue where a carpathian bullet slammed into his shoulder. there's a matching one in his leg, along with the unseen three months of rehab it had taken to gain his mobility back. he burrows into the fresh sheets and tries not to think about what might have happened the last time he was here, his cheek pressed miserably to a pillow while his dark hair sweeps into his eyes.
shifting horizontally drains all the blood from his brain, apparently, because he's dizzy in seconds, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers gripping the clean sheets until the room stops swaying. he can't tell if it's hours or seconds before he can manage to make his mouth form words again. ]
Hawk. [ a pathetic rasp. he half hopes he's already gone. ] Don't go yet.
no subject
it doesn't help when hawk crowds his space, embry maintaining both his balance and composure by summoning some hidden reservoir of his waning fortitude. the wash of hawk's smoky breath against his skin sends a shudder rattling through him, his fingers curling weakly around the fabric of hawk's blazer, right by his hip, while he struggles momentarily to breathe. thick, liquid desire pools at his core while static fills his chest, anxious fear warring with his want.
he's not going to fire hawk, though in this moment he really fucking desperately wants to. he wants to not need him, because he wants to not need anybody. needing ash has ruined him, left him wandering out in the cold like a kicked dog on a short chain, and he realizes that he's fallen into the same trap here, that he's allowed hawk to somehow seep into the brittle cracks of his heart.
it would be a relief to submit to a command, and still everything in him struggles against it even knowing that he's going to lose. he's already lost, because he can't let go of hawk. not like this. ]
Bring me some aspirin.
[ even an order sounds like a defeat, and for a moment he's pressed too close — they're pressed too close, heat and breath mingling, and the rush of it all has him unsteady, his palms pressing to hawk's ribs through the fabric of his clothes. eyes shuttering, his damp temple tips against hawk's cheek, and he lingers, wanting to go limp against him and simply forget. forget this night, and all the things he already can't remember. forget all the tumult that lies between them. forget all the reasons that he shouldn't just let their lips touch, despite barely being able to stand.
his senses, or what little is left of them, return to him, and he slowly pulls away, unbelting his robe and shrugging it off as he turns his back, exposing his lean muscles and the scar tissue where a carpathian bullet slammed into his shoulder. there's a matching one in his leg, along with the unseen three months of rehab it had taken to gain his mobility back. he burrows into the fresh sheets and tries not to think about what might have happened the last time he was here, his cheek pressed miserably to a pillow while his dark hair sweeps into his eyes.
shifting horizontally drains all the blood from his brain, apparently, because he's dizzy in seconds, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers gripping the clean sheets until the room stops swaying. he can't tell if it's hours or seconds before he can manage to make his mouth form words again. ]
Hawk. [ a pathetic rasp. he half hopes he's already gone. ] Don't go yet.