for Connor

[causational]

[It's been half a year since his breakup with Iris, and it's been a few months that this has been going on now - after one drunken night where Eddie stumbled into the a different type of club than intended, gave his number out on the dance floor. A few obnoxious texts from Connor the next morning, and here they are, months later. It's hard to define what it is they have, but it's interesting, it's new, it's something completely different, separated from his previous way of life, and it feels intense. Passionate. Good.

Tonight it was a quick series of texts and Eddie's heading off to his apartment, with that thrill, the excitement, the knot in his gut. A knock on the door, and he leans against the doorframe in a bright blue henley and a leather jacket, waiting. Anticipating.]

Comments

[sextings]

[ He's got nice eyes: blue, bright. He hears the door shut behind the both of them, feels the ghost of a touch against his wrist as he still holds fast to his jacket and steps that much closer now. Connor certainly isn't going to linger on niceties, not when Eddie is this close and possibly baiting him just a bit with that. Yes, he's insistent. Yes, he's demanding. But he's used to getting what he wants when he wants it--it's what happens when you know how to throw your advantages around.

Some say he should feel ashamed or upset.

Connor feels none of these things if the end justifies the means (mostly. There are some things that can't be justified. At all. But he can't dwell on those unless he wants to lose the warm, coiling heat in the pit of his belly. Guilt does not a good bedfellow make. ]

Nice to know you can read that just from a text.

[ I think I'll keep you if you can figure that out. Despite the fingers on his wrist, tapping his pulse, he pulls Eddie forward, leaning in and brushing his lips just barely against his own. ]

I'm a very demanding kind of guy. I don't like to waste time.