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Tim stirred, making a soft, tired sound from the back of his throat. “Hawk?” His voice was rough from misuse. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Hawk said. A beat and then, “I need you.” Hawk’s words were pressed out with a breathless sound, just falling short of a whine. A plea.
Tim turned in his arms, suddenly fully alert. His hand found Hawk’s face in the darkness, thumb tracing his cheekbone, soon trailing down along the stubble coated skin of his jaw until he could cup the side of his face tenderly. “You have me,” he whispered back, with that devastating simplicity that was so uniquely Tim. “You always have me.”
Their foreheads knocked together, noses bumping just as Tim lowered his hand even farther to rest it against Hawk’s rapidly beating heart. He would curl his entire fist around the organ if he could—hold it safe and sound in the palm of his hand until Hawk had become aware of how worthy he was of this—of a love so profound that it transcends everything else.
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this is so fire
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❤️