They walked silently through the woods, the only sound being the crunching of grass and twigs beneath their feet. It was a long walk from the road that led back into town but it didn't matter. Sometimes, you just had to wake up and decide that nothing mattered. People think that there are so many important things in life, so many things that you have to invest yourself in when, in reality, this idea couldn't be farther from the truth.
In all actuality, there are very few things in life that truly matter, that are truly important enough to garner our attention and that requires any investment of ourselves. Family, friends, life… love.
Ah, love. A lot of us don't know what love really is, the true power of it and what it means. It is a force with a proven greater pull than gravity. Perhaps love IS gravity. It has no definition given its non-discriminatory nature. It is one of the only things that cannot be controlled and yet it is all-controlling, all-consuming.
Love finds us all sooner or later, in some form or fashion.
When you're all alone and left to pit your wits against the cold and violent world, in that defining moment when you know you're alone and should be alone, about to take that first step in the journey towards your destiny, love is the person who has been with you the whole time, like a shadow. You've threaded through the people in your life and once you've found yourself alone, ready to discover yourself, you glance over and the person standing next to you is the one who remains after all of the others have passed you by. People come and go but love is the one who follows you until the end.
Sometimes you discover, as you gaze into their eyes that love has been there all along.
They come to a hill amongst the trees, with grass that is fading with the coming autumn, colors changing with the branches and the leaves. They lie down and settle comfortably next to each other, their bodies radiating warmth through their clothes.
It's a beautiful morning and he closes his eyes against the sun that shines through the trees, casting little rays of warmth upon his face. He can't help the small smile that comes and that he knows will remain.
The wind picks up and without having to open his eyes, he undoes his tie from around his neck and holds it up. With another gust he releases the silken material and lets it be taken away. There is a small chuckle to his right and his smile widens. He feels his partner shift, rustling the leaves beneath them and he can feel that blue-grey stare on him.
The gentle breeze combs through his hair and he feels fingertips on his forehead, brushing his dark hair away from his eyes. At the same moment, he hears and then feels leaves falling around them, one landing on his neck. It tickles and those fingers move to pick up the leaf and he barely hears the whisper of the word 'red'.
The calloused fingers come back to his neck, tracing the veins that present themselves then moving up to his pulse point, pressing lightly as to feel his beat of life. He reaches up and places his hand over the one on his neck, almost reassuring that they are alive, together, and that this is real. He can practically hear his partner smile beside him.
The hand beneath his moves up and cups the side of his face, the thumb reaching over to touch the corner of his mouth. He parts his pale, cupid's bow lips and allows the thumb entrance, his tongue touching the tip before giving it a brief suckle and releasing it. The hand's fingers find his mouth and gently ghost over them and he presses a kiss to each pad he feels.
This is mostly how they kiss. The touch of one body to another is the body's own kiss. Mouths are made for speaking. The body is made for expression.
He hears more rustling and then there are more leaves being carried in the wind between their bodies, fluttering past their heads and he feels that warm hand brush some out of his hair. He also hears the word 'yellow', followed by a chuckle.
Suddenly, a strong sneeze overcomes him and the man above him laughs out loud and blows a soft breath upon his face, effectively removing the soft little petals and breathes the word 'pink' through his laughter.
He can't help the giggle that escapes him.
The fingers come up and brush down over his entire face and he shivers, letting out a wistful sigh. He hears his lover moan quietly and his smile turns into a grin. He reaches up and cards his own pale fingers through the hair at the nape of Eames' neck and pulls him down until he can feel those full lips against his own, so he can slowly slide his tongue into that hot cavern and they can moan together under the falling leaves.
Arthur admits that mouths can be meant for kissing as well.