Hank lets Alivian draw him closer. He’s halfway done unbuttoning his shirt, and the thought of tearing it off is appealing. Less because he feels sexy — which he, almost horrifyingly, kind of does — and more because it would be sudden. Chaotic. Destructive.
The strangest thing about this encounter so far is that he’s not drunk — and that he doesn’t even feel like he needs it. And Hank is insecure, sure, but this isn’t about him. Not really. This is about letting that ‘kinky heart’ fly free.
And there’s relief in that, somehow. In the fact that they just met and yet there’s want.
The bathroom, too: Hank can admit this is weird. He’s never stepped foot in one so fancy, especially not with a cute guy asking him for his touch. A sweet guy who could murder Hank with his eyes, apparently. But is he scared? Not about that. If anything, he’s the one worried about being disappointing.
But again — letting that kinky heart fly free.
“So in these bodice rippers of yours” — Hank says this as if he doesn’t read them himself — “they often use two sets of clamps? Or is that something you thought of yourself?”
Hank can go slow. His eyes dart to his weird watch with all the instructions again: three hours and some change, ticking down. A sex act required for payout. He can do that, although he doesn’t know what, exactly.
One hand still slowly unbuttoning his shirt — he’s not trying to be cute; it’s just a task that needs doing — while the other reaches up to touch Alivian’s chin. Thumb brushing across his lips. Hank figures it’d be best to stay away from his mask — he said he wasn’t going to take it off and he meant it, danger or no — but hopefully this isn’t too much.
no subject
“‘Kinky at heart,’ huh?”
Hank lets Alivian draw him closer. He’s halfway done unbuttoning his shirt, and the thought of tearing it off is appealing. Less because he feels sexy — which he, almost horrifyingly, kind of does — and more because it would be sudden. Chaotic. Destructive.
The strangest thing about this encounter so far is that he’s not drunk — and that he doesn’t even feel like he needs it. And Hank is insecure, sure, but this isn’t about him. Not really. This is about letting that ‘kinky heart’ fly free.
And there’s relief in that, somehow. In the fact that they just met and yet there’s want.
The bathroom, too: Hank can admit this is weird. He’s never stepped foot in one so fancy, especially not with a cute guy asking him for his touch. A sweet guy who could murder Hank with his eyes, apparently. But is he scared? Not about that. If anything, he’s the one worried about being disappointing.
But again — letting that kinky heart fly free.
“So in these bodice rippers of yours” — Hank says this as if he doesn’t read them himself — “they often use two sets of clamps? Or is that something you thought of yourself?”
Hank can go slow. His eyes dart to his weird watch with all the instructions again: three hours and some change, ticking down. A sex act required for payout. He can do that, although he doesn’t know what, exactly.
One hand still slowly unbuttoning his shirt — he’s not trying to be cute; it’s just a task that needs doing — while the other reaches up to touch Alivian’s chin. Thumb brushing across his lips. Hank figures it’d be best to stay away from his mask — he said he wasn’t going to take it off and he meant it, danger or no — but hopefully this isn’t too much.
“You ever been kissed before?”