He gets that subtle message, the way that Robert puts his hands in his pockets and the way his body shifts, and he tries to make his disappointment less obvious. He knows that Robert is trying to be the level headed one in this, that Tom is far too compromised, but that doesn't change the fact that he craves that touch, the reassurance of it, the fact that it makes it easier to breathe. There's a flicker of something that's more complex than hurt in his bright eyes.
There's something a little hopeful in his eyes when Robert starts off by offering to go home with him, movie and dinner, but follows it up with an offer to come home with him and he's nodding in agreement before even really thinking about it. He's a little wrecked, vulnerable, rough on every edge. "I want to," he clarifies, as if there'd been any question, as if he could resist that offer.
It's perhaps a little reckless, getting involved with someone he works with; it's something he's always tried to avoid. The people he plays with usually discrete businessmen or people otherwise removed from Hollywood and its drama. But he trusts Robert, had suspected that he might be into the lifestyle. Just something in how he holds himself, a few moments here and there, a look in his eyes, that scene where he told him to squeeze harder. Tom couldn't help how it cut into him, the way his fingers flexed and Tom's eyes said he wanted it to be Robert's fingers at his throat.
He hadn't known for sure, though. Not until tonight, until he'd touched him, until he'd put words to it. And now they're standing here, Tom wanting to crumble to his knees, but trying to resist the urge. Because once they get to that point, there's the whole negotiation aspect. Usually, he comes at it with a fair bit of formality, but he knows that he's not in the right headspace for that kind of thing. That they're playing fast and loose if he wants to set any kind of ground rules.
He looks into Robert's eyes, a slight tilt of his head, the way he seems almost curled in on himself a little, but he doesn't bridge the distance and touch. "Do you want to fuck me?" Not quite his ideal opening line, but the question is there before he can think better of it, and he trusts Robert to know what he means.
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There's something a little hopeful in his eyes when Robert starts off by offering to go home with him, movie and dinner, but follows it up with an offer to come home with him and he's nodding in agreement before even really thinking about it. He's a little wrecked, vulnerable, rough on every edge. "I want to," he clarifies, as if there'd been any question, as if he could resist that offer.
It's perhaps a little reckless, getting involved with someone he works with; it's something he's always tried to avoid. The people he plays with usually discrete businessmen or people otherwise removed from Hollywood and its drama. But he trusts Robert, had suspected that he might be into the lifestyle. Just something in how he holds himself, a few moments here and there, a look in his eyes, that scene where he told him to squeeze harder. Tom couldn't help how it cut into him, the way his fingers flexed and Tom's eyes said he wanted it to be Robert's fingers at his throat.
He hadn't known for sure, though. Not until tonight, until he'd touched him, until he'd put words to it. And now they're standing here, Tom wanting to crumble to his knees, but trying to resist the urge. Because once they get to that point, there's the whole negotiation aspect. Usually, he comes at it with a fair bit of formality, but he knows that he's not in the right headspace for that kind of thing. That they're playing fast and loose if he wants to set any kind of ground rules.
He looks into Robert's eyes, a slight tilt of his head, the way he seems almost curled in on himself a little, but he doesn't bridge the distance and touch. "Do you want to fuck me?" Not quite his ideal opening line, but the question is there before he can think better of it, and he trusts Robert to know what he means.