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[chrisisofaith]

UN: ravens

You've reached Chris Sonom, previously of Melvaunt Deismyr, please leave a message.

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[chrisisofaith]

[He pauses again, but decides to curtail the teasing himself lest Hawke stumble into something he didn't want to for whatever reason.]

Agreed, we should give it a try next we aim to spar together. Worst case: we've had a fun bout of practice. Best case, we get far more.
Maybe a nice long soak afterwards

[wolfehawke]

You make everything sound enticing.

[ It's nearly three in the morning now, he shouldn't act on anything. He should be a responsible adult and try to go to bed. But all of these imagined scenarios and his trying to find what he could do for Chris had left him hard and aching not just for sex but for something else he doesn't want to name, even alone in his room where no one can see.

He stares at his phone for a long time, going back and forth on whether he should just say goodnight or if he can be a selfish masochist and ask Chris over or to meet somewhere. Satisfy them both and then himself over again by simply having Chris fall asleep in his arms.

Sighing and curtailing the urge to throw his phone across the room instead, he continues to stare and think and torture himself with indecision.]

I do like a good soak, especially with the hot water causing stings to whatever injuries we'd then sooth on each other.

[ Selfish maybe not, but a masochist certainly. ]

[chrisisofaith]

It's a gift.

[He might not have the gift of personality and charisma radiating from his skin the way some people did, but his attention was individual and thorough and what had started as a method of controlling a conversation through sensual tilts in his wording or tone simply shifted into second nature here.

Something Hawke had pointed out to him more than anything. It wasn't a change he minded, at least.]

I agree too well. I'm earnestly looking forward to it. For now, you ought try to sleep, lovely. As should I, I'm bound to rise in only a few hours.

[wolfehawke]

[ Or Chris can make the decision for him. ]

You're right, of course. I've an early morning ahead of me as well.
I'll see you soon, at any rate. For this or any other reason.

[ He doesn't quite throw the phone so much as plunk it face down on the bed and roll over in a staunch attempt to ignore it.

He's lucky. He should count himself such, anyway. This sort of aching hardship is a welcome one over anything else he could be dealing with. This he has experience with, at least. Three years of pining and wanting and nights like these only the phone makes it worse because instead of wondering if he's up or what he's thinking Hawke can just ask. He could just tell him everything, instantly.

It would be so terrifyingly easy.

He shoves his face hard into his pillow and resolves not to move until morning. For about ten minutes. Then takes it up, rereads the conversation, and at least takes action on the one problem this has caused that he can solve, however temporary. ]