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‘ remember when we met? ’
“A little bit.” Morgan began smiling at him, beginning to look up towards him. “It was back in ‘75 when your band performed at some university my mate went to and I was invited by them. I remember having a fun time with the crowd and how I ran into you when the gig was over.”
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[text] Sorry I got drunk and texted you about my sex life
: heard you fucked john cale’s wife: don’t we all have skeletons in our closet?
“ Come sit on my lap, love “ (HOLY SHIT THE AWKWARD SMUT)
“You never asked me to sit on your lap before. Change of mood for the day?” She gave out a slight smirk to him, scooting herself closer to the brunet. “You sure about it? You’re so reluctant when it comes to these things.”
(the awkward sexual tensions are real!!)
glenmatlockhere replied to your post: WHY DOES GLEN MATLOCK LOOK LIKE LEAFY
I CAN SEE THE RESEMBLANCE
ITS SCARY
"Hello"
If we kissed:
[] This wouldn’t happen.
[] Oh disgusting.
[x] Again, again.
[x] Kiss you back.
[] Let’s take this to the bedroom.
[] Slap/Push you away.
[] Be confused
If you asked me out I’d say:
[] Um no.
[] I’m taken-
[] Sure.
[x] HOLY ASDFGHJK YESSSSS.
Can we cuddle?:
[] No.
[] Ew.
[] Sure.
[x] YES.
Sex?:
[x] Let’s do it.
[] No. You can’t handle my d.
[] FUCK YES.
[x] No.
Should you reblog this?:
[x] Yes. I want to send you one.
[] Yes.
[] No.
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"You can be weird if you want to be.”
“Oh Glen, you know me too well.” She chuckled, flicking her cigarette around her finger. “But isn’t that why you fancy me so?”
"Everything's fine." Keith murmured confidently, already prepared to spend the night in the woods, black eyes lifting once more. The other man looked nervous, scared, "why don't you sit down? We got all the time in the world." Keith murmured, softly, barely audible above the sound of cars speeding by on the highway, sitting up in his sleeping bag and moving over on the soft tuft of grass and woven blanket he had spread out. "Have a smoke." Keith order, holding out a cigarette, fumbling around in his sleeping bag for a lighter. @glenmatlockhere | Cont.
“did you hear that?”
A low grumble as Keith rouses himself slightly, black eyes peering out from under the sleeping bag, silk scarf rapped half around his face, black eyes peering up. Fancy where you get stranded, and with whom. “’M sorry mate,” Keith grumbles, pressing his face into the ground, the sound of the highway and the smell of the bus, smoke still billowing out into the blue night skin, the sound of this man’s voice, Keith wanted to just melt into the nice grass and enjoy the spindly pine trees. Sometimes, when riding in a car, Keith thought about just walking into the great woods for a day or two. He will one day, and it’ll be great. But now, there was the sound and the broken bus and the man, “I was trying not to hear anything.”
