I did not mean to write this. This started out as something else and then became this! -------
“Vamp again, darling?”
“Yes, please.” Arthur, her long wet hair now combed out, sat back in her chair, wearing only a plush hotel towel, hands resting on her rounded belly. Eames, having obtained the bottle of Chanel Vamp, knelt before the chair, one knee raised. Arthur crossed her legs, and he cupped her heel, placing her foot on his knee.
She wasn’t big just yet; she could still shave her legs and paint her toenails, but Eames had taken a liking to doing that task himself when she let him, and now that she was pregnant, he took a special pleasure in it.
He uncapped the bottle, and with great care started to paint the dark red polish onto Arthur’s big toenail. He was engrossed enough in his work, tongue poking out as he concentrated, that he was slightly startled when Arthur sighed.
“Hm? What is it, love?”
“I hope my feet don’t swell. God, when I think about all the shoes I might not be able to wear.... Maybe permanently....”
“Well, they haven’t been swelling so far,” Eames remarked with a small shrug, steadying Arthur’s toes with his free hand before moving on to another nail.
“They might. Ankles too,” Arthur said, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling, glum.
“Darling, your ankles are and will be lovely,” Eames said, pausing and bending to press a kiss to the knob of Arthur’s ankle bone.
Arthur sat up to mock glare at him. “Hmph.”
“No, really.” Eames shifted, and kissed the arch of her foot.
Arthur flexed her toes. “Don’t mess up my polish. This is twenty-six dollars a bottle, you know.”
“I nicked it for you, you know.”
“Still. Back to work,” Arthur said, laughing.
Eames pressed a kiss to the top of her foot, grinning at her, raising a brow.
“Eames,” Arthur protested, “come on. I need them all dry before the party, I’m wearing those peep-toe pumps as long as I can.”
“Mm, yes, I know, and you’re going to look unbelievably sexy in that red minidress, with your long legs.”
“That’s the idea, but I can’t if only two of my toes are painted. I know what you’re trying to do--” Eames kissed the soft spot just above her heel and behind her ankle, and Arthur squeaked-- “and you need to wait.”
Grinning, Eames sat back with a sigh, and resumed painting. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he told her after a while, concentrating on the tiniest nails before shifting to take her other foot onto his knee. “You glow.”
“I wasn’t sure if that was a myth.”
“It’s not. You’re utterly gorgeous.” Eames raised a brow at her to underline his point, and then, returning attention to her toes, gnawed his lip as he concentrated on getting a large drop of polish into place.
“Will I be gorgeous even when I can’t wear that minidress or those heels?” Arthur asked darkly after a moment.
Eames looked up in surprise. “Of course.”
Arthur frowned and settled back into the chair. Eames finished painting her toenails, capped the bottle, and set it aside. He kissed the top of Arthur’s foot, her arch, and her ankle, up to her calf, and she put her other leg over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of her knee.
“Always lovely and perfect, my darling Arthur,” Eames said against her skin, looking up to meet her dark eyes. He wanted very much to nip at the soft skin of her thighs, but he knew she’d kill him if he left bruises that would be obvious in that short minidress; he settled for brushing his stubble over her, cock leaping in his trousers at the thought of seeing her at the party, her skin pink in a way you’d only notice if you were looking for it, but which told a clear story if you did.
Arthur slid down to the edge of the chair, spreading her thighs and hastily unwrapping the loosened towel from around herself. Kneeling before her, Eames placed a hand gently on her belly before tasting her, slick under his tongue, a soft gasp escaping her as she put her hand over his own.
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arthur/eames, rule 63!arthur
Date: 2012-09-02 02:31 am (UTC)-------
“Vamp again, darling?”
“Yes, please.” Arthur, her long wet hair now combed out, sat back in her chair, wearing only a plush hotel towel, hands resting on her rounded belly. Eames, having obtained the bottle of Chanel Vamp, knelt before the chair, one knee raised. Arthur crossed her legs, and he cupped her heel, placing her foot on his knee.
She wasn’t big just yet; she could still shave her legs and paint her toenails, but Eames had taken a liking to doing that task himself when she let him, and now that she was pregnant, he took a special pleasure in it.
He uncapped the bottle, and with great care started to paint the dark red polish onto Arthur’s big toenail. He was engrossed enough in his work, tongue poking out as he concentrated, that he was slightly startled when Arthur sighed.
“Hm? What is it, love?”
“I hope my feet don’t swell. God, when I think about all the shoes I might not be able to wear.... Maybe permanently....”
“Well, they haven’t been swelling so far,” Eames remarked with a small shrug, steadying Arthur’s toes with his free hand before moving on to another nail.
“They might. Ankles too,” Arthur said, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling, glum.
“Darling, your ankles are and will be lovely,” Eames said, pausing and bending to press a kiss to the knob of Arthur’s ankle bone.
Arthur sat up to mock glare at him. “Hmph.”
“No, really.” Eames shifted, and kissed the arch of her foot.
Arthur flexed her toes. “Don’t mess up my polish. This is twenty-six dollars a bottle, you know.”
“I nicked it for you, you know.”
“Still. Back to work,” Arthur said, laughing.
Eames pressed a kiss to the top of her foot, grinning at her, raising a brow.
“Eames,” Arthur protested, “come on. I need them all dry before the party, I’m wearing those peep-toe pumps as long as I can.”
“Mm, yes, I know, and you’re going to look unbelievably sexy in that red minidress, with your long legs.”
“That’s the idea, but I can’t if only two of my toes are painted. I know what you’re trying to do--” Eames kissed the soft spot just above her heel and behind her ankle, and Arthur squeaked-- “and you need to wait.”
Grinning, Eames sat back with a sigh, and resumed painting. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he told her after a while, concentrating on the tiniest nails before shifting to take her other foot onto his knee. “You glow.”
“I wasn’t sure if that was a myth.”
“It’s not. You’re utterly gorgeous.” Eames raised a brow at her to underline his point, and then, returning attention to her toes, gnawed his lip as he concentrated on getting a large drop of polish into place.
“Will I be gorgeous even when I can’t wear that minidress or those heels?” Arthur asked darkly after a moment.
Eames looked up in surprise. “Of course.”
Arthur frowned and settled back into the chair. Eames finished painting her toenails, capped the bottle, and set it aside. He kissed the top of Arthur’s foot, her arch, and her ankle, up to her calf, and she put her other leg over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of her knee.
“Always lovely and perfect, my darling Arthur,” Eames said against her skin, looking up to meet her dark eyes. He wanted very much to nip at the soft skin of her thighs, but he knew she’d kill him if he left bruises that would be obvious in that short minidress; he settled for brushing his stubble over her, cock leaping in his trousers at the thought of seeing her at the party, her skin pink in a way you’d only notice if you were looking for it, but which told a clear story if you did.
Arthur slid down to the edge of the chair, spreading her thighs and hastily unwrapping the loosened towel from around herself. Kneeling before her, Eames placed a hand gently on her belly before tasting her, slick under his tongue, a soft gasp escaping her as she put her hand over his own.