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"Hello, Father."
Hawk.
Tim closed his eyes, praying his shudder wasn't evident.
Two days or two months, it meant little. The low rumble of Hawk's voice always set a fire in his blood, curled pleasure around his abdomen, set his knees to weakening.
It shouldn't. It was wrong, a crime against God on so many counts.
Hawk was married. A husband. A loving father.
It was a sin. Mortal, damning his eternal soul.
And yet, Tim could not stop himself. He tried. Oh, God, how he had tried. He had spent long nights kneeling in supplication, praying for his soul to be cleansed of his sinful urges. Of his yearning.
But, somehow, he always found himself right back here. Kept letting him in. Craving his company, the touch of his skin, the sound of his moans.
Tim prayed for strength. For the ability to resist Hawk, to send him back to his wife and children.
Lucy. Jackson. Kimberly.
Hawk's family. Hawk's life.
Tim turned, resolved.
God had heard him. Hawk was still in the shadows, irresistible body shadowed by the darkness.
"Mr Fuller." Professional. As pleasant as he would greet any member of his congregation. "How can I help you tonight?"
Hawk stepped forward. Prowling towards Tim like some lithe jungle cat. He didn't stop until he was almost flush with Tim, fingers brushing against Tim's collar.
"Perhaps I missed you," Hawk murmured, as sincere as he got with his clothes still on.
That is to say, smirking, all but incinerating Tim with the heat in his gaze.
Tim would love to say that his words, his palpable desire, didn't affect him. Yet, there were only so many sins he allowed himself per day, and even being near Hawkins Fuller was eating his weekly quota up.
"My door is always open for those in need of spiritual guidance," Tim heard himself reply, distant and aloof as any of the politicians whose confession he heard.
Hawk's eyebrows raised at his tone, a sparkle of understanding coming into his gaze.
Good. Perhaps, for once, Hawk would give in. Make some excuse about a party with his wife and leave with only the promise of sin between them.
Tim was not that lucky. (Tim was never that lucky.)
Hawk pressed closer, crowding Tim against the bookshelves he'd been perusing before Hawk entered.
This close, every breath Tim drew was laced with Hawk's scent, muddying his thoughts to anything beyond mine.
But, no. It had been months. Summer coming and going and Tim had promised himself. No more. He would honor his vow of celibacy.
His hands found Hawk's shoulders, holding him in place as much as pushing him back. "Mr Fuller-"
Hawk breathed him in, lungs shuddering on his exhale. Masks fallen away. " Skippy. "
God forgive him.
Living with the yearning aching inside his soul was so much easier when Tim could fool himself that it was only his yearning. Seeing it there, shining deeply in the eyes that haunted Tim's every waking and sleeping moment, all his restraint fled.
Gone was the cocky man who came to claim and left before the sky got light. The only man Tim could see was the vulnerable boy who lay against his chest in the afterglow and whispered long forgotten plans of freedom and love.
The man who held his heart.
There, in Hawk's eyes, soft and vulnerable, was the truth of it. He had missed him. Had probably tried to punish himself for the weakness by staying away longer. Until he couldn't anymore.
Tim mortified himself, treasuring every bruise as the penance he deserved. But what Hawk did was even worse. He mortified his soul, denying it what he needed to survive.
Tim cupped Hawk's cheek, watched as his eyelashes fluttered, pulse fast in his throat.
He was struck by such a desire to take care of him that Tim had never felt before. The urge to protect, to pamper, to treasure, rose so strongly, Tim had to kiss Hawk to stop himself offering it aloud.
Hawk's surprise was a soft noise at the back of his throat, thrown off guard for a precious moment. Still, he got with the program quickly, responding to the hunger in Tim's kiss twofold. His hands were everywhere, under Tim's jumper, clutching handfuls of his ass, pressing closer and tugging through his hair. Desperate.
Tim kept his hands steady. One in Hawk's hair, keeping him exactly in place as they kissed. The other holding onto his waist; biding it's time, patient.
Tim nipped hard at Hawk's lip, sucking it into his mouth to soothe the sting. He drew back slowly, tugging on his lip until he had to let it go. Leaving Hawk standing there, all flushed cheeks and swollen red lips.
Tim undoubtedly was in a far worse state of deshabille, hair a mess and clothes askew. It was all the same to him. Worth it a thousand times over to see Hawk's heaving chest and pupils barely ringed with that entrancing blue.
Mine.
Without warning, Tim grabbed Hawk's shoulders, spinning him, steering him to his bed. Normally, the couch or the wall would suffice - the burning power of their passion demanding immediate satiation. Not tonight.
Tonight, Hawk had come to be Tim's. And Tim would have him.
Hawk's breath whooshed out on a little ooph, his lover bouncing on the thin mattress even as he reached for the buttons on his trousers. Tim by his small closet, Hawk on the bed, their gazes never broke as they undressed. Putting on a bit of a show for the other, the months apart falling away. Once naked, already half hard, Tim knelt on the mattress, Hawk leaning back on his elbows. Smug but uncertain. And beautiful. So beautiful.
Tim was made for devotion. Had spent his entire life giving himself up to serving his God. God who was everywhere, in everyone. No one so much as Hawkins Fuller.
They met in an awkward kiss, both trying to claim control, only one succeeding. Tim pulled away, rewarded by an instinctive needy whine, the chase of swollen lips after his own.
Victory.
"How-?" Hawk's voice broke off into a long groan, Tim swallowing him down with practiced ease.
He knew just how Hawk liked it. How to mix suction with the pressure of his tongue. How much time to spend toying with the head, how to hum to make him take the lord's name in vain.
Tonight, Tim started him off easy, swallowing loosely around him, holding him there in the warmth of his throat.
Hawk bit back a curse, fingers clenching in the weave of Tim's multicolored blanket.
Already his chest was flushed and heaving, already he was leaking little salty bursts at the back of Tim's throat.
So desperate. So needy.
Tim smirked, as much as he could around Hawk, pulling off with a pop muffled by Hawk's protesting groan.
He sucked hard at the tip, more punishment than reward, hands holding firm against the bucking of Hawk's hips.
Lying there, accepting Tim's control and whatever pleasure Tim would allow him, Hawk looked breathtaking.
Just looking at him left Tim surreptitiously squeezing himself to stave off the pressure.
"Has anyone else had you like this?"
Hawk shook his head, curls mussing against his pillow. "No."
Tim blew softly over him, smirking at Hawk's smothered whimper. "No, what?"
Hawk's eyes dilated, arousal drawing another soft whimper to his lips. "No, Father."
"Good," Tim praised, kissing the weeping tip of his cock in reward.
Hawk moved restlessly under Tim's restraint, hips chasing Tim's mouth. "Skippy…"
Tim nipped sharply at the soft muscle of Hawk's thigh, narrowing his eyes. "What was that?"
"Father," Hawk corrected quickly, such a quick learner when his pleasure was at stake. "Father. Father, please."
Tim soothed the red mark he'd made, smiling sweetly at Hawk.
"What do you need, baby?"
" You ." Hawk blushed at the speed of his response, smirking and adding a very cheeky, "Father."
Tim nipped at Hawk's other thigh, revelling in the soft fuck that escaped Hawk's lips. So good for Tim, though, he didn't move. Just stared at him with blown, pleading eyes.
"Okay, baby."
Tim crawled up the bed, kissing him deep and filthy as he loved. Tim's tongue claimed his mouth, distracting Hawk enough for him to slip the tub of jelly from his bedside drawer.
Slipping back down Hawk's body, Tim only had to look at his hands to have Hawk hold them up by his head, clenching on to the pillow.
"Are you going to be good for me, baby?" Tim asked, breathing the words over his straining length.
Hawk bit his lip, struggling for control but finding some. When he spoke, his voice was almost level. "Yes, Father."
Tim hummed dubiously, licking a stripe up the underside of Hawk's cock. Reaching the tip, he swallowed him back down, Hawk grating out an "Oh, Christ" with his eyes falling shut.
Tim used his window, quickly slicking up two of his fingers in the cool jelly. He circled once around Hawk's hole, warning enough for his lover to protest, and thrust them inside on Hawk's shuddering exhale.
It probably hurt - even before their break, Hawk hadn't let him do this in a while - but Tim knew Hawk's limits. Knew he could take it and more.
Still, Tim drew back enough to ask. "Okay?"
"Fuck, Skippy," Hawk groaned, teeth gritted. But he nodded, hair sticking to his forehead. "Good. I'm good."
Tim smiled, letting the slip pass. He knew from experience how hard it was to stay in the game when unexpectedly filled with fingers.
He sank back down on Hawk's cock, coaxing him back to full hardness while scizzoring and twisting his fingers inside him.
Hawk's hands eventually left the pillow, grasping weakly at Tim's hair, tugging as if to pull him off. "Enough," he gasped, body shuddering as Tim curled his fingers just right. "Skip- Father, please . I need you."
Tim pulled away, hearing Hawk whimper at getting exactly what he asked for. He lifted Hawk's knee, watching two of his fingers stretching him open. Hawk usually needed at least three fingers to comfortably take him.
"Hawk-"
Hawk growled, surging up off the bed enough to kiss Tim hard. "If you don't fuck me already, Father, I'm going to do it myself."
Tim kissed him sweetly, pushing him to lay back on the bed. "Patience."
Slicking up a third finger, Tim eased it in alongside the others. Hawk cursed him, thighs quivering and heels digging into the mattress. But he lay there and took it. Let Tim tease him, rubbing circles against his velvety walls, scraping his nails over the bundle of nerves that had him arching off the bed.
So beautiful.
Tim could watch him and play with him all night.
But, his own cock gave a traitorous throb between his legs, bringing his own simmering arousal back to the forefront of his mind.
Tim caught Hawk's knees, bringing them up over his shoulders, bending his love nearly in half.
With one long, leisurely thrust, Tim seated himself inside him. Hawk was so warm, so perfectly slick, Tim sacrilegiously wondered if this was heaven. Buried balls deep inside his lover, feeling him clench around him, squeezing as if he couldn't bear to let him go…
Tim couldn't think of a more fitting heaven. Nor of a place he'd rather spend eternity.
Heaven probably didn't come with a bratty bottom digging his heels into Tim's back and begging;
"Please, move. Goddammit, Skippy, move."
Bracing his hands on either side of Hawk's head, Tim began to thrust. Hard and fast, forcing little gasped uh-uh-uh's out of Hawk's lips.
Hawk clutched at him, pulling him closer, gasping his moans into Tim's mouth.
Tim felt the chill of Hawk's wedding ring on his skin and he couldn't stand it a second longer. Mine.
His thrusts grew harder, taking on a brutal, punishing rhythm. Hawk's eyes rolled back, moans escaping him on every breath.
Submitting. Surrendering. It was divine.
And yet, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough to quell the burning possessiveness inside of Tim's jealous heart.
"Who do you belong to?"
Hawk shook his head, whining through his clenched teeth.
Tim bit a bruise into the side of Hawk's collar, damning their no-marks rule.
"Who do you belong to?"
Hawk's eyes were hazy and unfocused, caught up in his approaching orgasm. "Ski- Father-"
"No," Tim growled, thrusting harder, forcing Hawk up the bed. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Who. Do. You. Belong. To?"
"You."
Drowning in relentless pleasure, Hawk sounded sweet. So sweet, so honest.
Tim kissed him, gentleness counterpoint to how punishing he was thrusting. It was honest and real, but still not right. Not what Tim needed.
"Who do you belong to?"
Hawk's nails bit into Tim's arms, hips falling momentarily out of rhythm.
"You. You," Hawk panted, beautiful emotion shining in the stained glass of his eyes.
Beautiful. Perfect. Still not right.
Tim gritted his teeth, changing his angle, fucking him harder. Harder still. "Who-"
Hawk clenched around him, body tensing. So close. "Timothy - oh God - David - jesus, fuck - Laughlin!"
Tim gentled his thrusts, leaning down to kiss Hawk's bitten, swollen lips. He rolled their hips together, pleasure a molten coil at the base of his spine.
"That's it," Tim praised, anger washed away. "That's right. You're mine."
Hawk could only nod, lost to the oncoming tide of orgasm. "Yours."
"Yeah," Tim drawled, Hawk's body so tight, so perfect, it was taking all his willpower to make sure Hawk came first. "Come on, Hawk. Come for me. Come for me, baby."
Hawk tightened impossibly around Tim, clenching his jaw, body tensing into a perfect bow. He came, sobbing Tim's name like a prayer.
Tim lasted only a few more thrusts, drawing oversensitive noises from Hawk's lips as he chased his own completion. When he came, it was with a bite into Hawk's shoulder, the feel of Hawk's eyes burning into him.
Later, when their bodies were made of something other than rubber, Hawk cleaned them both up with Tim's nightshirt, tossing it vaguely towards the closet. Tim would have chided him, but his body still hummed with satiation. So, he drew his far too satisfied lover back into his arms and pretended he could have this forever. Hawk, smelling of sweat and sex and Tim, laying against his chest just like this forever.
"That was nice, Father Skippy," Hawk teased, smirk ruined by his jaw cracking yawn. "We'll have to go again when I can feel my legs."
Tim rolled his eyes, both at the nickname and at Hawk's dramatics. "Go to sleep, Hawk," he said, tapping at his nose. "I'll wake you before it gets light."