( connor has been doing a very good job of focusing on the present. he's very aware of his tendency to get lost in a train of thought, unable to stop pulling on a loose thread until a moment is unravelling beyond repair – but he's usually reserved enough that people don't notice. hank notices – because of his time spent as a homicide detective, connor imagines – so connor is trying to remain "in the moment".
hank makes it remarkably easy. it's just that there's a long way to go between the bed and the bathroom and back again, and while he's looking in the bathroom mirror and sipping at the water from the tap, something changes. he doesn't even realise it until he's back in bed again, the cup carefully placed on the bedside table, stretched on his back and looking up at the ceiling.
it's not surprising that the mood changes after literally choking on the come spurted down the throat, but it's surprising that he can't get it back. connor's trying, he's clutching at the last scraps of the hot and heavy desperation they'd been revelling in only moments ago, but even with his jaw tipped back and head craned to give hank full access to his neck, even as the gentle kisses make him sigh he's– distracted.
his dick still twitches at hank's hand on his balls, because it's still hot and he's still ridiculously attracted to hank, but when the other man asks him a question connor just...presses his lips together in a tight little line. )
Yes. ( he sits up a little, looks at hank and smiles. it's very fake, and he knows that the man will see through it in a heartbeat. he considers a few options, any way to avoid this particular conversation, but he's coming up mostly empty. largely due to the fact that connor is very bad at lying.
he brings a hand up to brush his fingers through hank's beard, tugging lightly, and when he smiles again it's a fraction warmer. ) I'm sorry, I'm ruining the mood.
( it's not an answer to his question, not really, but he hopes it will be enough for hank to move on from the conversation. )
no subject
hank makes it remarkably easy. it's just that there's a long way to go between the bed and the bathroom and back again, and while he's looking in the bathroom mirror and sipping at the water from the tap, something changes. he doesn't even realise it until he's back in bed again, the cup carefully placed on the bedside table, stretched on his back and looking up at the ceiling.
it's not surprising that the mood changes after literally choking on the come spurted down the throat, but it's surprising that he can't get it back. connor's trying, he's clutching at the last scraps of the hot and heavy desperation they'd been revelling in only moments ago, but even with his jaw tipped back and head craned to give hank full access to his neck, even as the gentle kisses make him sigh he's– distracted.
his dick still twitches at hank's hand on his balls, because it's still hot and he's still ridiculously attracted to hank, but when the other man asks him a question connor just...presses his lips together in a tight little line. )
Yes. ( he sits up a little, looks at hank and smiles. it's very fake, and he knows that the man will see through it in a heartbeat. he considers a few options, any way to avoid this particular conversation, but he's coming up mostly empty. largely due to the fact that connor is very bad at lying.
he brings a hand up to brush his fingers through hank's beard, tugging lightly, and when he smiles again it's a fraction warmer. ) I'm sorry, I'm ruining the mood.
( it's not an answer to his question, not really, but he hopes it will be enough for hank to move on from the conversation. )