This can't be happening... ?|| Arthur&privateer!Arthur || Arthur's home.
Chegara em casa horas antes, precisando utilizar o tempo que lhe foi dado para lavar de si todo peso adquirido durante os meses que passou em alto mar. A coloração escura sob as pálpebras inferiores delatava o cansaço e o desejo veemente de repouso - e ele ainda cheirava a sal, a maresia; tinha no corpo as marcas do trabalho realizado dentro e fora do navio. Não saiu para guerrear, porém. Resolveu assuntos pendentes em um território ou outro e logo retornou para a Inglaterra, cansado das noites sem sono, ainda que bem aproveitadas quando escorava na proa, junto a uma garrafa de rum, e cortejava o céu noturno. Banhou-se, enfim, junto com seus devaneios. Arthur cedeu às necessidades do próprio corpo e se deitou, exausto demais para ficar de pé, pensativo demais para cair no sono com rapidez. Pensava em si no futuro. Otimista, delineou um sorriso fino ao se imaginar ainda mais poderoso e influente, fantasiando sobre o porvir. As fadas, por sua vez, observaram-no do alto e riram entre si, considerando a ideia de apresentá-lo ao seu “próximo eu” por pura curiosidade e distorcida benevolência. Infantilmente travessas, aguardaram o sono tomar conta do inglês e fizeram sua brincadeira, sempre discretas. A madrugada se tornou dia e logo a tarde também chegou. Bem descansado e disposto, Arthur acordou, levantando-se após bocejar e se espreguiçar lentamente. Foi automaticamente, ainda cambaleante, até o banheiro, mas logo voltou para o quarto às pressas. No rosto, nada além de pura confusão.
“ON─…? ONDE DIABOS ESTOU?!” - Rugiu, apesar de reconhecer superficialmente aquele quarto. Tudo estava mudado. A arrumação e decoração: ele não se sentia mais em casa - se é que ainda estava nela.
Estava, sem dúvida alguma, desorientado. E a primeira ideia que teve foi a de vasculhar, fazendo muito barulho e bagunça, o guarda-roupas em busca de algo que oferecesse pistas de onde estava. Encontrou, no lugar de seus cinturões, casacas e calções, outras peças que não se imaginava utilizando.
August found it rather difficult to squeeze into his tight jeans with his cock as hard as it was, he managed though, grimacing as he adjusted himself. He wanted to look as appealing as possible for Arthur, afraid that maybe he would come to his senses before he got there. He couldn't turn him away if he looked completely fuckable though, right? He pulled on a tight fitting black t-shirt, then quickly ran his hands through his jet black hair, musing it up some to make it look like he had just finished rolling around in bed with someone. His sex hair was to die for, even he had to admit that. After he finished getting ready, he slipped out the door, and out the building, being careful to avoid being seen by the guard patrolling the grounds. He made it to the staff housing, and found Arthur’s room, biting down on his lip as he pushed the door open and shut it quietly behind him.
With the hours ticking away and the sky fading from bright blues to hazy sunsets and then dark nights, Noel could feel his exhaustion setting in. Another long night at the office wasn’t unexpected, but when it came to being alone with the one and only Arthur James, well…Noel just wasn’t really sure how to deal with that. He was used to the designer being around, used to Charisse gushing about his work and the man spending more and more time in their studios rather at his own. Noel didn’t’t mind it in the slightest because he enjoyed seeing the man around and still kind of fanboyed when it came to his work, and as he worked his way through the pile of papers that Charisse wanted him to get done by the morning, he thought of the man working down the hall, working on some design or another, and Noel knew that he couldn’t concentrate anymore without a break first. He let out a sigh, stretching his arms out to try and get some movement back in his limbs before he nudged his chair in against the desk before he made his way down the hallway and poked his head into the room where he knew Arthur was working. Noel couldn’t help but just stand there for a minute and watch, silently admiring the way the man worked with the fabric at hand, taking the designs off the paper and bringing them to life. It was something that he’d dreamt of doing as a child and seeing one of the people that he idolised doing exactly that was a dream to Noel. He had to shake himself out of his moment of thinking and push himself off of the door frame, making his presence known. “Evening,” he mumbled, scratching at the back of his head before he managed a bit of a smile. “I was thinking of making a coffee run. Would you want anything?”