because the answer to "do you need a hug" is ALWAYS yes
There should be a snazzy intro here, but let's face it guys, the point would be this: CUDDLING. Every one needs cuddling. People love cuddling. I love cuddling. I think Arthur probably secretly loves cuddling. And you know Eames is a clingy bastard. Because cuddling is awesome! And everyone should get some cuddles. So, allow me to present:
The ( Read more... )
The ( Read more... )
Arthur keeps expecting Eames to walk out. Eames keeps... not walking out. He still does the shopping and snipes at Arthur for using all the hot water and brings Arthur coffee when he's working late, dropping an absent kiss on the top of Arthur's head as he sets down the cup.
At night, Eames pulls Arthur to him as soon as he comes into bed, arms tightening around Arthur's torso nearly to the point where it's painful. In the morning he kisses Arthur before they're both properly awake, and again before Arthur leaves to meet clients or do surveillance, and again when Arthur comes back.
He doesn't initiate anything remotely like sex. He doesn't pin Arthur to the wall or pounce on him on the couch.
Arthur would almost appreciate it, except that he misses the sex like crazy. If Eames' sudden celibacy feels like a concession, it also feels like he's mocking Arthur for wanting him so much.
And besides, he knows something is bound to break soon.
~~
Arthur's eyes are half-open. Eames is snoring softly next to him.
Arthur is almost bitter about this, about Eames' smell and the texture of his skin. How in spite of all this goddamned tension between them the first thing he thinks on seeing Eames is fuck, I want him.
Wanting is not something Arthur particularly enjoys.
He woke up half-hard, which isn't uncommon for him, especially considering the way Eames sleeps wrapped around him nowadays. For the same reason Arthur hasn't been doing much about his morning erections recently, but today he thinks, fuck it; Eames isn't supposed to be up for a while yet and Arthur's, well, horny.
He untangles himself from Eames' arms, lies on his back and looks firmly at the ceiling. Not that it matters. As he touches himself, his eyes close involuntarily and he can smell Eames next to him, feel the heat of him, hear him breathing -
As Arthur arches into his hand, trying not to gasp, Eames stops snoring.
Arthur freezes, feeling absurdly guilty, embarrassed, like he was caught at something wrong. Like this wasn't his fucking bed to jerk off in.
But Eames is leaning over him, and his voice, raspy from sleep, is somehow urgent as he says, "Darling, let me -"
When it comes to it, there are some things about which Arthur just isn't a strong man. He lets Eames.
Eames shifts Arthur onto his side, sliding behind him, and Arthur gasps from the heat of Eames' skin all along his back, down the backs of his legs. Eames' hand closes around his cock, and Arthur has to bite the sound that wants to come out.
Fuck, he missed this.
He can feel that Eames is soft, but right now Arthur doesn't give a fuck about that. It's ugly and selfish but Eames finally, finally put his hands on him and Arthur just wants to fucking come.
That happens... rather embarrassingly fast.
Arthur can't really feel bad about it, though, because Eames' other hand is in Arthur's hair, scratching gently just above the back of his neck, and Arthur can't form complex thoughts when Eames is doing that.
Eames sucks a kiss into Arthur's shoulder. "Does that mean you're not mad anymore?" he asks, just a little too lightly.
He's not sure about that, but Arthur doesn't think he can get mad right now. "Well, you still don't make any sense to me," he says, because honesty is easy when he's still so post-coital he almost feels drugged.
"Arthur," Eames says with nearly a groan, "Darling. Light of my life. Are you really going to start that again?"
"No, really." Arthur turns around so they're both lying on their sides, looking at each other. "We should do this while I'm still too happy to start yelling."
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