open post | 2 | kink

[meerkats]

O P E N   S M U T   P O S T

◉ Drop a comment with one or more of your muses.
◉ Give me a prompt
◉ you can specify any of my muses whom you might like to play with, or I can pick.
◉ Everything goes, even the retired ones, but I can't guarantee good tags from them.
◉ sex!

Comments

also gimmie eamesss

[merriest]

ugh don't mind me rolling in my shippy feels

[blends]

[ Romance is an interestingly complicated thing, isn't it? He was quite bloody good at it once, when he was younger with less to lose and a life within the realm of rules to live. Plenty of girlfriends (and boyfriends his mum didn't need to know about, though she wouldn't have cared in retrospect). Times changed, people changed, and when push came to shove he chose this life, a life with no rules but one: you are alone. Protect yourself and don't make anyone else a liability and you'll be just fine in your fabulist lifestyle. No family, no friends, no lovers, just the world at your fingertips.

With enough one night stands in Paris or one week flings in Mumbai he had gotten used to it, appreciating his own freedom more than he needed constant company. Being your own best friend in a business like his, well, it could be damn rewarding if applied in the right way.

In all his 12 years of freedom that he was sure would become 22 and 32 and 42 if he was lucky enough to not get himself killed, he never imagined Arthur. He'd imagined people like Arthur of course, the pinned and pressed thug with military intelligence who could wear Armani and Brooks Brothers with perfect posture and enunciate perfectly but couldn't hide the fact that they were, in fact, still a thug under it all. Perfectly analytic with a temper and not a creative bone in his body, and yet for all the imagining he had done, they were never quite the same, he was never quite prepared.

Then again, who's ever prepared to fall hard for someone, especially when they've all but assumed that door was closed and locked for good?

He chuckles to himself under his breath and behind his lips as he watches Arthur sleep, the sun peering in through the blinds of this Chicago flat. Apartment, the word sticks to the roof of his mouth like it would anyone who didn't spend too much time stateside, but he would go anywhere for Arthur. Probably. Maybe. It's not something he wants to think on, uncomfortable territory they don't need to discuss but rather sweep under the rug with the rest of the conversations they shouldn't ever have. Their lives, it's all too complicated for feelings and sentiment.

Dust floats about the sunbeams and Eames returns to the moment lost in time in Chicago summer, moving closer to flop on arm over Arthur's body and press his face against the line of his lover's ribs like a loose skinned puppy.

Difficulty be damned, he chose this life for the little pleasures, and for right now this is one of them.]