because the answer to "do you need a hug" is ALWAYS yes

[angelgazing]

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

Comments

Re: Allowed [inception, Arthur/Eames, 9/?, nc-17]

[persephone_il]

The thing is, he really wants to do something for Eames for a change, and at first it looks like he's succeeding. Arthur knows for a fact he has good hands, and even drunk he can spot the best places to push. He's learned about anatomy for violent reasons, but it has its pleasurable applications.

But Eames' skin is warm and soft under his hands, his muscles hard underneath, and the noises Eames makes are practically pornographic, and so Arthur can't help but react.

"Darling," Eames says in a conversational tone, then spoils the effect by groaning. "You do realize you're rock-hard, yes?"

"I know," Arthur grinds out. "Excuse me for having a sex-drive, okay?"

Eames pushes him, maneuvers them so that he's pinning Arthur to the bed. He shoves his thigh between Arthur's legs. "You don't need to apologize," he says, exasperated. His expression changes, subtly.

"You'd let me hurt you," he says, softly. "If I wanted to."

There are a thousand glib replies Arthur can make to that. He settles for something defensive. "I have a very high pain threshold."

Eames grimaces. "I know, and trust me, I wish I didn't." He looks Arthur in the eyes. "Were they all like that?"

Arthur's erection is flagging. He wonders if that was the intended effect. "I told one of my girlfriends, once," he finds himself saying. "That, I don't know, maybe I attract sadists. People really like to watch me in pain, for some reason." He giggles, a little hysterically. "She started going on about the sexualization of violence and rape culture.

"When she came out of the closet, I told her she was reinforcing stereotypes." He's laughing outright now, because you have to laugh at shit like that. "Then she hit me, and I told her she was contributing to the cycle of violence in my relationships."

Eames stares at him, agape. "So," he says, wry, "you're saying you have some hang-ups about sexuality."

Arthur raises his hand, index finger nearly touching his thumb: a little.

Eames drops his head to Arthur's shoulder. Arthur pets his hair absently. "Then I suppose," Eames says, "that I should forgive you for being a right prat about this."

"Well, you don't have to," Arthur says, reasonably. "That's a lot of prattitude to forgive."

Eames huffs a laughter, his breath warm against Arthur's neck. "You do realize that's not an actual word."

Arthur hums noncommittally.

Eames rises to lean on his elbows, pinning Arthur with his eyes as well as his weight. "The point I was trying to make, Arthur," he punctuates with a quick kiss to the side of Arthur's mouth, "is that people make compromises for relationships. I like to have sex with you because it makes you happy and I don't actually mind."

"Leaving aside the fact that 'I don't mind' isn't exactly the strongest endorsement," Arthur says, dryly, "you've made your point exactly backwards."

Eames lets his head hang and groans. "I know. You may recall I drank just as much as you did."

Arthur grabs Eames' head to kiss him, a little to shut him up, mostly because he likes to and it's simple, it's the only straight-forward thing about this entire relationship; they want to kiss, they kiss.