Conversing with the Muse

A bunch of oneshots about the issues I have with my muse. There's a picture of him up on my DeviantArt account. "hotarunokurai./art/My-Main-Man-80698517" My muse's name is Eximius.

Warning: Swearing and sex references.

“So then, he takes the pencil from behind her ear and throws it,” he extended his arm as if he was throwing a perfectly balanced knife, “and it nails the guy right in the eye!” He staggered about, clutching at the side of his face, covering one eye as if he were the one wounded. Moments later, he perks up. “Oh oh oh! What if he—”

“Eximius!” My head phones died and I had the headache from hell. “You’ve been rambling about a minor side plot for a half hour now! Could we focus, please?”

He made a rather rude noise as he flopped face first on the spare bed, his large gray-black wings folding in towards the center of his back.

“Your horns better not poke holes in my pillow.”

“But the main plot is nothing but them trying to get together…It’s so boring,” the fully grown demon was whining like a five year old child. “I’m not in the mood for fluffy crap; I’m in the mood for bloodshed!” He sat up with a malicious smile. “Let’s make up a character just so we can kill ‘em off.”

“No!” That was just downright cruel. And I really shouldn’t have expected anything less. It’s hopeless when he gets in these moods.

“Sonofabitch….I’m so bored!” He let out an overdramatic moan and flopped back on the bed. “And you’re stifling me!”

“Oh shut up, you big baby.”

“All right, no bloodshed…How about sex? Can’t go wrong with a good, steamy bout of sex.”

What the hell did I do in a past life to deserve getting stuck with this idiot? What did I do to deserve such a freak?

“Some hot sex, that’s what we need,” he sounded like a kid describing his dream of having a swimming pool full of jello. “How about Aurora and Sylvr? We haven’t played with them for a while. Or how about Jax and Cargan? Something soft and sweet while still being sexy. Oh no, wait, Ash and Ulric; hard, fast, sweaty and messy. But what about—”

“All right, dammit, all right…” I felt like sobbing from the overwhelming mixture of frustration and defeat. I looked over to see him sitting cross-legged on the spare bed, crimson eyes wide. “If I let you write your smut, will you help me finish this chapter?”

“Deal.”

“Good,” I sighed, my fingers running over the keyboards and setting on my “home keys.” I heard the groan of bedsprings as he rose and the rustle of wings as he came over. Clawed fingers splayed on my upper back. “Let’s get started.”