Fic: Pornophony
Pornophony
Words: 1,300
Thanks to: Thanks to: chibi_lurrel for the looksee.
PWP written for sorrynotsorry
"Jeans and a T-shirt at the opera, Arthur? For shame," Eames says as he
Pornophony
"Jeans and a T-shirt at the opera, Arthur? For shame," Eames says as he drops into the seat beside Arthur.
Arthur glances over at the young woman in a pink dress that Eames is currently masquerading as. "I'm guessing the job went well?"
"Swimmingly." Eames leans over to kiss Arthur briefly, and his lips taste of artificial candy sweetness. "The mark was quite cooperative."
"Good," Arthur says, and contemplates uncrossing his legs and bringing them down from where they're propped up on the balcony balustrade. He ultimately decides against it. "So, this remote dream-sharing thing-it works now?"
"It would appear so, yes." Eames stares down at his chest, where his breasts are practically overflowing, and tries to make them a modicum more presentable. "I tried your mobile, but it wasn't on. Thought I'd give this a shot."
"Yusuf's going to be excited to hear about this," Arthur says, finally swinging his legs down. "The possibilities this opens up for extraction-not to mention inception-are practically endless."
"It's been a month since you last saw me and all you want to do is talk business," Eames sighs as he adjusts his right breast. "Typical."
"To be fair, I’m not actually seeing you now," Arthur points out. "Besides, you interrupted my opera."
Eames glances over at the stage where the mezzo-soprano projection has just launched into an aria. "Tosca? You know the story to this is totally incomprehensible, don't you?"
"It's not about the plot," Arthur says. "It's about the music."
"I'm fairly certain that's what they say about every opera ever produced," Eames says, but his tone is teasing.
"Maybe I just like to kick back and listen to good music with incomprehensible plots when I'm waiting for strange men to invade my dreams."
"Strange?" Eames sounds almost offended by that as he gives up on taming his wayward breasts. "I certainly hope you're referring to some other dream lover you've been seeing behind my back."
"So says the man dressed as a twenty-year-old Asian woman fussing over the arrangement of his breasts," Arthur replies dryly.
"It's a new character I've developed and the details are important," Eames says. "Do you like her? I think I'm going to make her a spy. A sexy spy, with a tragic past and a penchant for dangerous men."
"I'm fairly certain that's what they say about every female spy ever," Arthur deadpans and then laughs at Eames' outraged expression. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously sexy," Eames corrects, but he stands up when Arthur beckons. "Also: charming, brilliant, and devilishly handsome."
"Yes to all of the above," Arthur agrees as he pulls Eames between his legs. When Eames fails to revert back to his real body, Arthur touches his chin gently. "Hey. I want to see you."
"Such a romantic," Eames says as his waist bulks up underneath Arthur's hands. When he kisses Arthur, the lipstick and soft skin is gone, replaced by minty fresh breath and a day's stubble.
"The forges are fun, but I think I like your mouth," Arthur runs a hand down Eames' back, "your ass," and presses a thigh forward into Eames' crotch, "and your cock the best."
"I'm simply a composite of sexual bits and pieces for you to play with, am I?" Eames replies as he bites lightly at Arthur's lower lip.
"Pretty much." Arthur leans forward and presses Eames back against the railing. "What a difficult life you lead, being used as a sextoy."
"God, it's awful," Eames agrees as Arthur deftly opens all the buttons of his shirt. "I don't know how I stand it. You're an insatiable, ravening beast."
Arthur laughs as he mouths a trail of kisses down to Eames' stomach. "Yes, that does sound exactly like me."
"I could be a world-class pianist if it weren't for all the time I have to spend catering to your every debauched desire," Eames says as Arthur unzips his pants. "I could be a chess grandmaster."
"You hate chess," Arthur says as he pushes Eames' pants and underwear down to the floor, allowing his cock-which is hard and red and one of Arthur's favorite things in the whole wide world-to curl up against Eames' stomach. "And playing the piano."
Eames gives him an irritated look bordering on pouty, and thrusts his hips forward none too subtly. "I could have mastered a new hobby, then. Bocce ball, perhaps."
"I hear bocce ball is fun," Arthur says agreeably as he sinks to his knees on the carpeted floor and nuzzles at Eames' balls, the underside of his cock. This is his second favorite part of sucking cock: the build-up, the anticipation of it. Getting to smell the musk of a prick, feel the weight of it pressed against his cheek before he takes it into his mouth and tastes it. It's intoxicating.
"Arthur," Eames says as his hands grip the railing on either side of his body. "Darling, please."
Arthur smiles up at Eames before licking a line up from the base of his cock to the tip, then opening his mouth and sucking it down to the root. Eames moans and shakes a little, while Arthur could moan himself at how good it all is: the heat in Arthur's mouth, the solid shape of Eames' cock against his tongue, the brush of his pubic hair against Arthur's face. This is his first favorite part of sucking cock.
There's never been anything that gives Arthur quite the same satisfaction that engaging his mouth does-everything from chewing gum to rimming to making out for hours-and he supposes it must be an oral fixation of some sort. But above all other mouth-related activities, what Arthur loves most is having a cock shoved halfway down his throat.
Before Eames, Arthur had made his acquaintance with any number of dicks-some big, some small, some oddly shaped-and enjoyed pretty much all of them. He'd been vaguely worried when they settled into monogamy that he'd get bored with the same one, over and over. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that while the novelty of a new prick to discover might be gone, there's something to be said for easy familiarity, as well as the way Eames smiles at Arthur and whispers his name when he comes.
"I take it all back," Eames pants as Arthur bobs his head up and down. "To hell with bocce ball and chess."
Arthur pats Eames on the thigh to let him know he's made the right choice, and then moves a hand down to rub lightly over the constricting denim over his own erection. Between Eames' husky moans and the fact that they haven't done this in over a month, Arthur's halfway there himself.
"Arthur," Eames chants, his hiccupping gasps a sure sign he's about to come. "Arthur, I-"
Arthur takes a deep breath through his nostrils and then ducks his head back down, deepthroating Eames' dick and adoring the pressure of it against his well-trained gag reflex, the way it makes his eyes water slightly.
Eames comes with a groan, working to keep his hips still but not quite succeeding. Arthur takes it all, hand working over his jeans and moaning as he swallows Eames' come. Arthur doesn't pull off even when Eames is done, holding on and sucking furiously with his eyes closed until Arthur's dick goes off in his pants, pulsing and twitching beneath his palm.
Arthur opens his eyes slowly and reluctantly lets go off Eames' softened dick, which must be nearly painful in its
oversensitivity by now. But Eames doesn't make any complaints, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted as he stares down at Arthur.
"Remote dreamsharing," Eames murmurs as he tugs Arthur up and crushes their lips together. "I shall have to send Yusuf a basket of fruit. And perhaps flowers."
"We're going to have to make regular appointments," Arthur agrees. In the distance, he can hear projections onstage singing a soaring duet together, a tribute to dark eyes and burning passion.
fin
Poll FB: Pornophony
Words: 1,300
Thanks to: Thanks to: chibi_lurrel for the looksee.
PWP written for sorrynotsorry
"Jeans and a T-shirt at the opera, Arthur? For shame," Eames says as he
Pornophony
"Jeans and a T-shirt at the opera, Arthur? For shame," Eames says as he drops into the seat beside Arthur.
Arthur glances over at the young woman in a pink dress that Eames is currently masquerading as. "I'm guessing the job went well?"
"Swimmingly." Eames leans over to kiss Arthur briefly, and his lips taste of artificial candy sweetness. "The mark was quite cooperative."
"Good," Arthur says, and contemplates uncrossing his legs and bringing them down from where they're propped up on the balcony balustrade. He ultimately decides against it. "So, this remote dream-sharing thing-it works now?"
"It would appear so, yes." Eames stares down at his chest, where his breasts are practically overflowing, and tries to make them a modicum more presentable. "I tried your mobile, but it wasn't on. Thought I'd give this a shot."
"Yusuf's going to be excited to hear about this," Arthur says, finally swinging his legs down. "The possibilities this opens up for extraction-not to mention inception-are practically endless."
"It's been a month since you last saw me and all you want to do is talk business," Eames sighs as he adjusts his right breast. "Typical."
"To be fair, I’m not actually seeing you now," Arthur points out. "Besides, you interrupted my opera."
Eames glances over at the stage where the mezzo-soprano projection has just launched into an aria. "Tosca? You know the story to this is totally incomprehensible, don't you?"
"It's not about the plot," Arthur says. "It's about the music."
"I'm fairly certain that's what they say about every opera ever produced," Eames says, but his tone is teasing.
"Maybe I just like to kick back and listen to good music with incomprehensible plots when I'm waiting for strange men to invade my dreams."
"Strange?" Eames sounds almost offended by that as he gives up on taming his wayward breasts. "I certainly hope you're referring to some other dream lover you've been seeing behind my back."
"So says the man dressed as a twenty-year-old Asian woman fussing over the arrangement of his breasts," Arthur replies dryly.
"It's a new character I've developed and the details are important," Eames says. "Do you like her? I think I'm going to make her a spy. A sexy spy, with a tragic past and a penchant for dangerous men."
"I'm fairly certain that's what they say about every female spy ever," Arthur deadpans and then laughs at Eames' outraged expression. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously sexy," Eames corrects, but he stands up when Arthur beckons. "Also: charming, brilliant, and devilishly handsome."
"Yes to all of the above," Arthur agrees as he pulls Eames between his legs. When Eames fails to revert back to his real body, Arthur touches his chin gently. "Hey. I want to see you."
"Such a romantic," Eames says as his waist bulks up underneath Arthur's hands. When he kisses Arthur, the lipstick and soft skin is gone, replaced by minty fresh breath and a day's stubble.
"The forges are fun, but I think I like your mouth," Arthur runs a hand down Eames' back, "your ass," and presses a thigh forward into Eames' crotch, "and your cock the best."
"I'm simply a composite of sexual bits and pieces for you to play with, am I?" Eames replies as he bites lightly at Arthur's lower lip.
"Pretty much." Arthur leans forward and presses Eames back against the railing. "What a difficult life you lead, being used as a sextoy."
"God, it's awful," Eames agrees as Arthur deftly opens all the buttons of his shirt. "I don't know how I stand it. You're an insatiable, ravening beast."
Arthur laughs as he mouths a trail of kisses down to Eames' stomach. "Yes, that does sound exactly like me."
"I could be a world-class pianist if it weren't for all the time I have to spend catering to your every debauched desire," Eames says as Arthur unzips his pants. "I could be a chess grandmaster."
"You hate chess," Arthur says as he pushes Eames' pants and underwear down to the floor, allowing his cock-which is hard and red and one of Arthur's favorite things in the whole wide world-to curl up against Eames' stomach. "And playing the piano."
Eames gives him an irritated look bordering on pouty, and thrusts his hips forward none too subtly. "I could have mastered a new hobby, then. Bocce ball, perhaps."
"I hear bocce ball is fun," Arthur says agreeably as he sinks to his knees on the carpeted floor and nuzzles at Eames' balls, the underside of his cock. This is his second favorite part of sucking cock: the build-up, the anticipation of it. Getting to smell the musk of a prick, feel the weight of it pressed against his cheek before he takes it into his mouth and tastes it. It's intoxicating.
"Arthur," Eames says as his hands grip the railing on either side of his body. "Darling, please."
Arthur smiles up at Eames before licking a line up from the base of his cock to the tip, then opening his mouth and sucking it down to the root. Eames moans and shakes a little, while Arthur could moan himself at how good it all is: the heat in Arthur's mouth, the solid shape of Eames' cock against his tongue, the brush of his pubic hair against Arthur's face. This is his first favorite part of sucking cock.
There's never been anything that gives Arthur quite the same satisfaction that engaging his mouth does-everything from chewing gum to rimming to making out for hours-and he supposes it must be an oral fixation of some sort. But above all other mouth-related activities, what Arthur loves most is having a cock shoved halfway down his throat.
Before Eames, Arthur had made his acquaintance with any number of dicks-some big, some small, some oddly shaped-and enjoyed pretty much all of them. He'd been vaguely worried when they settled into monogamy that he'd get bored with the same one, over and over. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that while the novelty of a new prick to discover might be gone, there's something to be said for easy familiarity, as well as the way Eames smiles at Arthur and whispers his name when he comes.
"I take it all back," Eames pants as Arthur bobs his head up and down. "To hell with bocce ball and chess."
Arthur pats Eames on the thigh to let him know he's made the right choice, and then moves a hand down to rub lightly over the constricting denim over his own erection. Between Eames' husky moans and the fact that they haven't done this in over a month, Arthur's halfway there himself.
"Arthur," Eames chants, his hiccupping gasps a sure sign he's about to come. "Arthur, I-"
Arthur takes a deep breath through his nostrils and then ducks his head back down, deepthroating Eames' dick and adoring the pressure of it against his well-trained gag reflex, the way it makes his eyes water slightly.
Eames comes with a groan, working to keep his hips still but not quite succeeding. Arthur takes it all, hand working over his jeans and moaning as he swallows Eames' come. Arthur doesn't pull off even when Eames is done, holding on and sucking furiously with his eyes closed until Arthur's dick goes off in his pants, pulsing and twitching beneath his palm.
Arthur opens his eyes slowly and reluctantly lets go off Eames' softened dick, which must be nearly painful in its
oversensitivity by now. But Eames doesn't make any complaints, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted as he stares down at Arthur.
"Remote dreamsharing," Eames murmurs as he tugs Arthur up and crushes their lips together. "I shall have to send Yusuf a basket of fruit. And perhaps flowers."
"We're going to have to make regular appointments," Arthur agrees. In the distance, he can hear projections onstage singing a soaring duet together, a tribute to dark eyes and burning passion.
fin
Poll FB: Pornophony