Oral Fixation
Feb. 8th, 2011 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eternalsojourn25 Jan 2011
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:~2800
Warnings: None
Pairings or Characters: Arthur/Eames
Summary: In response to this post: Eames gets really frazzled, so to calm him down, Arthur takes out his cock for Eames to suck on.
Beta: None
Author's Note: Sorry, this totally got away from me. I meant to write a couple paragraphs of porn and got this. This is my first post ever, anywhere, and my first slash fic, and my first M/M fic, and my first fan fic. Poppin’ cherries all over the place, here.
Oral Fixation
Eames is the best, no question. It usually isn’t a problem, but ever since the Inception job, word has trickled out in the Dreamshare community that not only is he a brilliant Forger, he may or may not have saved, through quick thinking and dazzling improvisation, one of the most difficult and dangerous jobs anyone’s heard of. Of course, the details are sketchy since the job wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but those in the Dreamshare community are a gossipy bunch and it’s clear that no matter how it went down, everyone involved in that job can now bank on a decidedly increased market value. The upshot being that Eames is in demand. Very high demand. They all are, but most of them have the sense to lay low for a little while, take quiet easy jobs with breaks in between. Everyone else, at least, seemed to know instinctively that they needed time to recharge.
Arthur worries, of course. It’s what he does; it’s his job to obsess about every detail, plan for every eventuality. He notices that Eames takes too many jobs. Even if he didn’t know every job Eames takes, which he does, he would still know Eames is running himself ragged.
He had always kept one eye on Eames’s activities, which is how he knew without checking that Eames was in Mombasa when they needed him. And after Inception Arthur had been a little surprised to feel Eames’s warm body solidly present and very much in his space behind him in the taxi queue at LAX. Surprised, but not displeased. The tense anticipation coupled with the vibrating buzz following an impossible job completed made for an interesting taxi ride back to Arthur’s apartment. The feral hunger with which they devoured each other back in his room was the best thing to come out of the job, better even than the obscene amounts of money they had all made from it. The relationship that grew out of that incredible fuck-fest maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise but it was. Arthur has always been fiercely loyal by nature, and Eames’s look-out-for-number-one philosophy appears to have a big exception around Arthur. So whereas Arthur had previously kept one eye on Eames’s activities, now Eames is like a limb, like a part of himself he’s always aware of, no matter his location.
So when Eames lets himself into Arthur’s apartment mid-afternoon Thursday, three and a half months after Inception, Arthur already knows without having to look that Eames is haggard. No, more than haggard. Frazzled. Frayed at the ends. He’s lost a few pounds, has dark patches under his eyes, and worst of all, he has the haunted look that can only have come from being too many other people for too long.
At least he’s taking short jobs, Arthur thinks. During the past three months they had spent every non-working moment together, but Eames kept taking off for more jobs and Arthur was getting increasingly exasperated. They’d had one glorious week immediately after that first time during which they had hardly left the apartment, spending it doing intensive studies of each other’s bodies and mapping out the contours of their shared physical landscape.
During this time they discovered their apparently equal appetite for both topping and bottoming. They unearthed Arthur’s occasional desire to be told precisely what to do and when he can do it (he is a brilliant Point Man, after all, and follows orders exceptionally well, including being able to come on command). They tested Eames’s seemingly tireless strength in holding Arthur’s weight while fucking him against various and sundry hard surfaces around the apartment, during which they also discovered Arthur’s long bendy legs and vise grip thighs. Eames was surprised by Arthur’s tendency to nuzzle and cuddle like a love-starved kitten when he’s sleepy or post-coital. Arthur stumbled across the fact that Eames’s oral fixation extends well beyond carnal moments and into non-sexual situations.
Actually, this last wasn’t entirely unexpected. Eames has always been known to chew on pens, worry at his thumbnail, nibble on the edge of his takeaway coffee cup long after the coffee is finished, and generally drive Arthur to distraction by constantly calling attention to his pornographic lips. Arthur had assumed Eames did it specifically to drive him crazy. He was surprised to learn instead that Eames apparently derives a great deal of comfort from suckling things. He didn’t quite know what to do with it the first time Eames had sucked his brains out through his cock in a mind-blowing orgasm, only to continue suckling gently until they both fell asleep. It wasn’t really one of Arthur’s kinks, but it was kind of soothing nonetheless. And if Eames found it soothing, too, well, Arthur was a magnanimous guy and was happy to oblige.
But Eames is confusing sometimes. Arthur’s never known him to take this many jobs in a row and he doesn’t think Eames is trying to get away from him, given that he comes back every time, tumbling into bed with him and consuming him with undisguised hunger. And he seems to enjoy their shared breakfasts and lazy afternoon strolls to the shops when they can keep it in their pants long enough to accomplish anything. That is, Eames seemed to enjoy all these things during the few days here and there that he wasn’t working.
So when Eames walks in that Thursday afternoon Arthur wants to talk about things. He wants to know why Eames insists on working this much, why he pushes himself so hard. He wants to find out so that he can convince him to rest and sit still for once and just enjoy what they have going. He wants, but he won’t demand. Because what Arthur wants is secondary right now. He can tell by the weary lines of Eames’s stance that his fatigue is something beyond the need for sleep. He needs comfort. He needs someone to pay attention, to make him necessary. Him. Eames. Not a Forger and all his associated personae. Eames is all Arthur wants, and he’s going to make sure Eames understands that.
He stands up from his laptop and approaches Eames calmly. He helps him out of his jacket, hangs it up for him. Eames just looks at him, tired but with the same fondness and spark of heat he always has for Arthur. Arthur steps in front of him, right up into Eames’s space and just breathes him in for a moment, face perfectly framed by the negative space at his neck. He trails his fingers up Eames’s arms, feeling his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, and then trails them down his front, over his clavicle, pectorals and down his stomach, looping back to his arms to begin again even slower. The heat of their bodies gathers between them and Eames slips his hands over Arthur’s waist.
The warmth of those hands, the possessiveness in them makes Arthur a little melty. It makes him want to fold himself into Eames’s arms, mold himself to his body. He nuzzles into Eames’s neck and begins placing soft sucking kisses on his skin. Eames tilts his head for a minute, emitting a soft “mmm” before turning his head to catch Arthur’s lips. It’s soft and close-mouthed, Eames kissing first Arthur’s bottom lip, then the corner of his mouth, then pressing their lips together before opening up to twine tongues. It’s slow and caressing, tongues sliding alongside each other with no urgency. Eames brings a hand up to the back of Arthur’s head, holding him firm and steady and Arthur feels the solidity of it down to his toes.
Arthur breaks the kiss, needing suddenly to look at Eames’s face. He needs to see those eyes and see Eames behind them. No matter what incarnation he takes in dreams, Arthur can always see something essentially Eames in those eyes, but he loves it best when it’s this face. This is his Eames, the honesty that only shows when they’re alone. He runs his thumb along that bottom lip, soft and flushed from kissing. Eames’s tongue reaches out just barely flicking the end of Arthur’s thumb and Arthur takes the hint and pushes in. Eames’s eagerness in sucking it in never fails to make Arthur’s head rush with a wave of desire. That tongue curls up to envelop his thumb, then swirls, then licks, and all the while Eames suckles.
Arthur’s breath gets faster and shallower, pulsing his thumb in and out by millimetres and watching, entranced. He withdraws it with a soft wet pop and kisses him again, hungrier this time. He pulls Eames as close to him as he can, rolling his hips to grind against his partner, both fully clothed and so, so hard. Eames moans into Arthur’s mouth, deepening the kiss even further and sucking on his tongue.
Eames works at Arthur’s trousers, fingers deft and sure even when he’s tired and turned on. With a few quick movements he has Arthur’s erection freed, poking through the hole in his boxer briefs and out of the trousers still hanging off his hips. Arthur takes a fractional step backwards giving Eames the space to drop to his knees. With his left hand ruffled in Eames’s hair, Arthur wraps his right hand around the base of his cock, holding Eames’s head steady while he paints those obscenely full lips with precome. Eames’s mouth opens greedily, straining slightly against the hand in his hair that holds him back.
Arthur controls this first part at least, feeding Eames his cock gently, marveling at the beatific serenity on Eames’s face as he does so. He keeps his hand at the back of Eames’s head, relinquishing so he’s not really applying any pressure as Eames moves on his own, just keeping it there and caressing his scalp, mussing his hair. Eames is moaning around his cock, the vibration of it giving Arthur a shiver of pleasure. He can’t take his eyes off the sight of this, and reaches down with his free hand to run a finger around Eames’s bottom lip where he’s stretched around his girth. “So beautiful,” he murmurs. “God, Eames. You’re perfect.”
Eames is excellent at this, but it’s not his technical skill that makes Arthur light-headed with want. It’s his obvious hunger for Arthur’s cock: the way he begins by enveloping half of Arthur’s length while reverently stroking his tongue broadly up the ridge underneath. The way he pulls off to admire the glistening look of it, red and raw before taking it in again, deeper than before. It’s the way he doesn’t bother being quiet about it, just licks and sucks lets it all get slick and messy. It’s the way he simply opens his throat and takes Arthur all the way in, right down to the root, then pulls back off to jack him while kissing and suckling on the tip, lips a perfect circle before diving in for another deep throated stroke. That’s what brings Arthur right to the edge: Eames’s fervour, his absolute laser-focused attention on Arthur’s cock sends him over. Arthur knows by now that Eames doesn’t need warning, that he doesn’t want it and gets annoyed by the distraction, so Arthur just lets go and finally slams his eyes shut and erupts in Eames’s mouth, stuttering to a standstill and tensing from toes to scalp.
Eames takes it all, latching on and sucking out every last drop as if he’s dying of thirst. He stays latched on even after Arthur’s finished, though he gentles himself to the barest hint of suction in consideration of Arthur’s now over-sensitive skin. And as much as Arthur would love to have him continue to just keep him in his mouth, he’s only too aware that Eames hasn’t even been released from his own trousers yet, and that just won’t do.
He pulls Eames up for a deep kiss, licking into his mouth to chase his own taste, a hint of salt bleach mixed with Eames’s own taste somewhere underneath. He laces his fingers through Eames’s and leads him to the bedroom where he reverently begins to undress his lover. Eames is licking his lips, and despite the fact that he hasn’t had any direct stimulation himself, he looks sated. But Arthur knows better. Eames isn’t desperately frantic right now; what he needs is intimacy, a fuck slow and close.
So Arthur gets Eames out of the last of his clothes, and makes short work of his own before reaching into the bedside table to get the lube and a condom. Eames stands behind him, erection tucked up against Arthur’s arse, hands exploring the planes of his stomach and chest, kissing his shoulder and the nape of his neck. Arthur hands him the lube, and Eames slicks up his fingers but doesn’t move away, just keeps one arm around Arthur and continuing his kisses while slipping his fingers down between Arthur’s cheeks. He massages for a moment before slipping one finger in, pushing up to the second knuckle. He pulls out and slides two fingers in, scissoring, though it’s less preparation than exploration; Arthur is relaxed and opens easily. When the third finger slips in, Arthur pushes back against Eames’s hand, reaching up to grab Eames behind the neck and grasping at Eames’s thigh with the other.
Arthur eases them both down onto the bed, his back to his partner and lying on their sides. Eames slips on the condom and grabs Arthur’s leg by the thigh, lifting it up and spreading him open, and Arthur uses one hand to guide Eames in. He can feel his own cock stiffening again, and the blunt head of Eames’s fat erection against his hole followed by the insistent pressure and relentlessly slow penetration feels familiar and electric at once. Eames is all wrapped up around him, strong arms holding him tight, lips breathing hot breath on his neck and ear, whispering to him. There are times when Eames is gloriously filthy, swearing and intense, but not today. Today there’s an air of reverence in his words, and it’s all, “That’s it love, open up for me,” and “Your strength, your body, I can’t get enough,” and “Christ, darling, you’re so amazing.” He moves in a slow rhythm, pushing up into Arthur like he belongs there.
Arthur’s own erection is back and Eames reaches for him. Arthur starts to say he doesn’t have to, but Eames interrupts him, “Shhh, love. I want to,” and he strokes him in time with his thrusts. Arthur pushes back into the heavy warm weight behind him, both of them slippery with a thin film of sweat. Their rhythm begins to increase and Eames shifts his angle so that he’s brushing against Arthur’s prostate every few strokes. He can feel Eames begin to lose his rhythm after a while, feels him begin to thrust without thought as he pulls Arthur’s whole body even tighter against his own. And he feels him tense and stutter and come with a gust of air that doesn’t quite vocalize into the back of Arthur’s hair.
He pulls out and disposes of the condom before pulling Arthur back to him, laying him out on his back and bending himself over to suck his cock again. With the memory of Eames stretching his arse full, he comes again after a few short bobs of Eames’s head. Eames, to Arthur’s surprise, moves back up to curl himself alongside, bodies touching along their full lengths. He rests his head on Arthur’s shoulder while Arthur runs a lazy finger up and down Eames’s arm. Eames traces random shapes on Arthur’s chest.
“Don’t you want to...” Arthur begins.
“No,” Eames doesn’t ask what Arthur was about to say. “I’d rather just hold you.”
“So.” Arthur feels terrible about broaching this right now but Eames doesn’t look sleepy and Arthur just has to know. “Will you please stop working so hard? You need a break.” He decides not to dive straight to the heart of the matter, but Eames is the best Forger in the business, and as such his people reading skills are unsurpassable.
“You want to know why,” Eames says. Arthur nods. “This is. This is good. Us. I just didn’t want...”
Arthur thinks he might understand but needs to hear. “Didn’t want what?” he asks.
“I didn’t want to crowd you. I didn’t want to outstay my welcome,” he doesn’t stop running his hand over Arthur’s chest.
Arthur figures he hasn’t done his job properly if Eames thinks he isn’t welcome in his home, whenever he wants, as long as he wants. But he also thinks that Eames telling him this probably indicates a turning point and he wants to ensure that Eames always knows where he stands. So he says, “Well stop leaving. You can stay here as long as you want.”
Eames just hums and settles his head a little closer to Arthur’s neck, giving him a soft kiss before relaxing his body to melt them together, letting out a contented sigh.
---End---
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:~2800
Warnings: None
Pairings or Characters: Arthur/Eames
Summary: In response to this post: Eames gets really frazzled, so to calm him down, Arthur takes out his cock for Eames to suck on.
Beta: None
Author's Note: Sorry, this totally got away from me. I meant to write a couple paragraphs of porn and got this. This is my first post ever, anywhere, and my first slash fic, and my first M/M fic, and my first fan fic. Poppin’ cherries all over the place, here.
Oral Fixation
Eames is the best, no question. It usually isn’t a problem, but ever since the Inception job, word has trickled out in the Dreamshare community that not only is he a brilliant Forger, he may or may not have saved, through quick thinking and dazzling improvisation, one of the most difficult and dangerous jobs anyone’s heard of. Of course, the details are sketchy since the job wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but those in the Dreamshare community are a gossipy bunch and it’s clear that no matter how it went down, everyone involved in that job can now bank on a decidedly increased market value. The upshot being that Eames is in demand. Very high demand. They all are, but most of them have the sense to lay low for a little while, take quiet easy jobs with breaks in between. Everyone else, at least, seemed to know instinctively that they needed time to recharge.
Arthur worries, of course. It’s what he does; it’s his job to obsess about every detail, plan for every eventuality. He notices that Eames takes too many jobs. Even if he didn’t know every job Eames takes, which he does, he would still know Eames is running himself ragged.
He had always kept one eye on Eames’s activities, which is how he knew without checking that Eames was in Mombasa when they needed him. And after Inception Arthur had been a little surprised to feel Eames’s warm body solidly present and very much in his space behind him in the taxi queue at LAX. Surprised, but not displeased. The tense anticipation coupled with the vibrating buzz following an impossible job completed made for an interesting taxi ride back to Arthur’s apartment. The feral hunger with which they devoured each other back in his room was the best thing to come out of the job, better even than the obscene amounts of money they had all made from it. The relationship that grew out of that incredible fuck-fest maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise but it was. Arthur has always been fiercely loyal by nature, and Eames’s look-out-for-number-one philosophy appears to have a big exception around Arthur. So whereas Arthur had previously kept one eye on Eames’s activities, now Eames is like a limb, like a part of himself he’s always aware of, no matter his location.
So when Eames lets himself into Arthur’s apartment mid-afternoon Thursday, three and a half months after Inception, Arthur already knows without having to look that Eames is haggard. No, more than haggard. Frazzled. Frayed at the ends. He’s lost a few pounds, has dark patches under his eyes, and worst of all, he has the haunted look that can only have come from being too many other people for too long.
At least he’s taking short jobs, Arthur thinks. During the past three months they had spent every non-working moment together, but Eames kept taking off for more jobs and Arthur was getting increasingly exasperated. They’d had one glorious week immediately after that first time during which they had hardly left the apartment, spending it doing intensive studies of each other’s bodies and mapping out the contours of their shared physical landscape.
During this time they discovered their apparently equal appetite for both topping and bottoming. They unearthed Arthur’s occasional desire to be told precisely what to do and when he can do it (he is a brilliant Point Man, after all, and follows orders exceptionally well, including being able to come on command). They tested Eames’s seemingly tireless strength in holding Arthur’s weight while fucking him against various and sundry hard surfaces around the apartment, during which they also discovered Arthur’s long bendy legs and vise grip thighs. Eames was surprised by Arthur’s tendency to nuzzle and cuddle like a love-starved kitten when he’s sleepy or post-coital. Arthur stumbled across the fact that Eames’s oral fixation extends well beyond carnal moments and into non-sexual situations.
Actually, this last wasn’t entirely unexpected. Eames has always been known to chew on pens, worry at his thumbnail, nibble on the edge of his takeaway coffee cup long after the coffee is finished, and generally drive Arthur to distraction by constantly calling attention to his pornographic lips. Arthur had assumed Eames did it specifically to drive him crazy. He was surprised to learn instead that Eames apparently derives a great deal of comfort from suckling things. He didn’t quite know what to do with it the first time Eames had sucked his brains out through his cock in a mind-blowing orgasm, only to continue suckling gently until they both fell asleep. It wasn’t really one of Arthur’s kinks, but it was kind of soothing nonetheless. And if Eames found it soothing, too, well, Arthur was a magnanimous guy and was happy to oblige.
But Eames is confusing sometimes. Arthur’s never known him to take this many jobs in a row and he doesn’t think Eames is trying to get away from him, given that he comes back every time, tumbling into bed with him and consuming him with undisguised hunger. And he seems to enjoy their shared breakfasts and lazy afternoon strolls to the shops when they can keep it in their pants long enough to accomplish anything. That is, Eames seemed to enjoy all these things during the few days here and there that he wasn’t working.
So when Eames walks in that Thursday afternoon Arthur wants to talk about things. He wants to know why Eames insists on working this much, why he pushes himself so hard. He wants to find out so that he can convince him to rest and sit still for once and just enjoy what they have going. He wants, but he won’t demand. Because what Arthur wants is secondary right now. He can tell by the weary lines of Eames’s stance that his fatigue is something beyond the need for sleep. He needs comfort. He needs someone to pay attention, to make him necessary. Him. Eames. Not a Forger and all his associated personae. Eames is all Arthur wants, and he’s going to make sure Eames understands that.
He stands up from his laptop and approaches Eames calmly. He helps him out of his jacket, hangs it up for him. Eames just looks at him, tired but with the same fondness and spark of heat he always has for Arthur. Arthur steps in front of him, right up into Eames’s space and just breathes him in for a moment, face perfectly framed by the negative space at his neck. He trails his fingers up Eames’s arms, feeling his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, and then trails them down his front, over his clavicle, pectorals and down his stomach, looping back to his arms to begin again even slower. The heat of their bodies gathers between them and Eames slips his hands over Arthur’s waist.
The warmth of those hands, the possessiveness in them makes Arthur a little melty. It makes him want to fold himself into Eames’s arms, mold himself to his body. He nuzzles into Eames’s neck and begins placing soft sucking kisses on his skin. Eames tilts his head for a minute, emitting a soft “mmm” before turning his head to catch Arthur’s lips. It’s soft and close-mouthed, Eames kissing first Arthur’s bottom lip, then the corner of his mouth, then pressing their lips together before opening up to twine tongues. It’s slow and caressing, tongues sliding alongside each other with no urgency. Eames brings a hand up to the back of Arthur’s head, holding him firm and steady and Arthur feels the solidity of it down to his toes.
Arthur breaks the kiss, needing suddenly to look at Eames’s face. He needs to see those eyes and see Eames behind them. No matter what incarnation he takes in dreams, Arthur can always see something essentially Eames in those eyes, but he loves it best when it’s this face. This is his Eames, the honesty that only shows when they’re alone. He runs his thumb along that bottom lip, soft and flushed from kissing. Eames’s tongue reaches out just barely flicking the end of Arthur’s thumb and Arthur takes the hint and pushes in. Eames’s eagerness in sucking it in never fails to make Arthur’s head rush with a wave of desire. That tongue curls up to envelop his thumb, then swirls, then licks, and all the while Eames suckles.
Arthur’s breath gets faster and shallower, pulsing his thumb in and out by millimetres and watching, entranced. He withdraws it with a soft wet pop and kisses him again, hungrier this time. He pulls Eames as close to him as he can, rolling his hips to grind against his partner, both fully clothed and so, so hard. Eames moans into Arthur’s mouth, deepening the kiss even further and sucking on his tongue.
Eames works at Arthur’s trousers, fingers deft and sure even when he’s tired and turned on. With a few quick movements he has Arthur’s erection freed, poking through the hole in his boxer briefs and out of the trousers still hanging off his hips. Arthur takes a fractional step backwards giving Eames the space to drop to his knees. With his left hand ruffled in Eames’s hair, Arthur wraps his right hand around the base of his cock, holding Eames’s head steady while he paints those obscenely full lips with precome. Eames’s mouth opens greedily, straining slightly against the hand in his hair that holds him back.
Arthur controls this first part at least, feeding Eames his cock gently, marveling at the beatific serenity on Eames’s face as he does so. He keeps his hand at the back of Eames’s head, relinquishing so he’s not really applying any pressure as Eames moves on his own, just keeping it there and caressing his scalp, mussing his hair. Eames is moaning around his cock, the vibration of it giving Arthur a shiver of pleasure. He can’t take his eyes off the sight of this, and reaches down with his free hand to run a finger around Eames’s bottom lip where he’s stretched around his girth. “So beautiful,” he murmurs. “God, Eames. You’re perfect.”
Eames is excellent at this, but it’s not his technical skill that makes Arthur light-headed with want. It’s his obvious hunger for Arthur’s cock: the way he begins by enveloping half of Arthur’s length while reverently stroking his tongue broadly up the ridge underneath. The way he pulls off to admire the glistening look of it, red and raw before taking it in again, deeper than before. It’s the way he doesn’t bother being quiet about it, just licks and sucks lets it all get slick and messy. It’s the way he simply opens his throat and takes Arthur all the way in, right down to the root, then pulls back off to jack him while kissing and suckling on the tip, lips a perfect circle before diving in for another deep throated stroke. That’s what brings Arthur right to the edge: Eames’s fervour, his absolute laser-focused attention on Arthur’s cock sends him over. Arthur knows by now that Eames doesn’t need warning, that he doesn’t want it and gets annoyed by the distraction, so Arthur just lets go and finally slams his eyes shut and erupts in Eames’s mouth, stuttering to a standstill and tensing from toes to scalp.
Eames takes it all, latching on and sucking out every last drop as if he’s dying of thirst. He stays latched on even after Arthur’s finished, though he gentles himself to the barest hint of suction in consideration of Arthur’s now over-sensitive skin. And as much as Arthur would love to have him continue to just keep him in his mouth, he’s only too aware that Eames hasn’t even been released from his own trousers yet, and that just won’t do.
He pulls Eames up for a deep kiss, licking into his mouth to chase his own taste, a hint of salt bleach mixed with Eames’s own taste somewhere underneath. He laces his fingers through Eames’s and leads him to the bedroom where he reverently begins to undress his lover. Eames is licking his lips, and despite the fact that he hasn’t had any direct stimulation himself, he looks sated. But Arthur knows better. Eames isn’t desperately frantic right now; what he needs is intimacy, a fuck slow and close.
So Arthur gets Eames out of the last of his clothes, and makes short work of his own before reaching into the bedside table to get the lube and a condom. Eames stands behind him, erection tucked up against Arthur’s arse, hands exploring the planes of his stomach and chest, kissing his shoulder and the nape of his neck. Arthur hands him the lube, and Eames slicks up his fingers but doesn’t move away, just keeps one arm around Arthur and continuing his kisses while slipping his fingers down between Arthur’s cheeks. He massages for a moment before slipping one finger in, pushing up to the second knuckle. He pulls out and slides two fingers in, scissoring, though it’s less preparation than exploration; Arthur is relaxed and opens easily. When the third finger slips in, Arthur pushes back against Eames’s hand, reaching up to grab Eames behind the neck and grasping at Eames’s thigh with the other.
Arthur eases them both down onto the bed, his back to his partner and lying on their sides. Eames slips on the condom and grabs Arthur’s leg by the thigh, lifting it up and spreading him open, and Arthur uses one hand to guide Eames in. He can feel his own cock stiffening again, and the blunt head of Eames’s fat erection against his hole followed by the insistent pressure and relentlessly slow penetration feels familiar and electric at once. Eames is all wrapped up around him, strong arms holding him tight, lips breathing hot breath on his neck and ear, whispering to him. There are times when Eames is gloriously filthy, swearing and intense, but not today. Today there’s an air of reverence in his words, and it’s all, “That’s it love, open up for me,” and “Your strength, your body, I can’t get enough,” and “Christ, darling, you’re so amazing.” He moves in a slow rhythm, pushing up into Arthur like he belongs there.
Arthur’s own erection is back and Eames reaches for him. Arthur starts to say he doesn’t have to, but Eames interrupts him, “Shhh, love. I want to,” and he strokes him in time with his thrusts. Arthur pushes back into the heavy warm weight behind him, both of them slippery with a thin film of sweat. Their rhythm begins to increase and Eames shifts his angle so that he’s brushing against Arthur’s prostate every few strokes. He can feel Eames begin to lose his rhythm after a while, feels him begin to thrust without thought as he pulls Arthur’s whole body even tighter against his own. And he feels him tense and stutter and come with a gust of air that doesn’t quite vocalize into the back of Arthur’s hair.
He pulls out and disposes of the condom before pulling Arthur back to him, laying him out on his back and bending himself over to suck his cock again. With the memory of Eames stretching his arse full, he comes again after a few short bobs of Eames’s head. Eames, to Arthur’s surprise, moves back up to curl himself alongside, bodies touching along their full lengths. He rests his head on Arthur’s shoulder while Arthur runs a lazy finger up and down Eames’s arm. Eames traces random shapes on Arthur’s chest.
“Don’t you want to...” Arthur begins.
“No,” Eames doesn’t ask what Arthur was about to say. “I’d rather just hold you.”
“So.” Arthur feels terrible about broaching this right now but Eames doesn’t look sleepy and Arthur just has to know. “Will you please stop working so hard? You need a break.” He decides not to dive straight to the heart of the matter, but Eames is the best Forger in the business, and as such his people reading skills are unsurpassable.
“You want to know why,” Eames says. Arthur nods. “This is. This is good. Us. I just didn’t want...”
Arthur thinks he might understand but needs to hear. “Didn’t want what?” he asks.
“I didn’t want to crowd you. I didn’t want to outstay my welcome,” he doesn’t stop running his hand over Arthur’s chest.
Arthur figures he hasn’t done his job properly if Eames thinks he isn’t welcome in his home, whenever he wants, as long as he wants. But he also thinks that Eames telling him this probably indicates a turning point and he wants to ensure that Eames always knows where he stands. So he says, “Well stop leaving. You can stay here as long as you want.”
Eames just hums and settles his head a little closer to Arthur’s neck, giving him a soft kiss before relaxing his body to melt them together, letting out a contented sigh.
---End---
