Re: Good Arms vs. Bad Arms [5/?]chibi_lurrelDecember 8 2010, 08:49:57 UTC
“Greedy, aren’t we?” Eames asks and he presses a kiss to Arthur’s hip before biting into it. Arthur tries not to kick out, tries not to moan when he feels Eames roll a condom down his cock, when he feels Eames slicking him.
“It would be shame to just get you off without putting you to some use, wouldn’t it?” Eames asks and Arthur wishes he’d just stop asking questions because he knows, he knows Arthur can’t answer them, can’t really say much more than -
“Eames!” It comes out like a yelp as the man slowly, so slowly sinks down onto his cock, and it’s tight and hot and so slow and really that’s it, Arthur can only think about the slick up and down rhythm that Eames is setting, can only rock his hips up and pull, yank on the headboard behind him because he’d love to be touching Eames.
Eames takes his time, rocking back, touching Arthur’s chest, his ribs, leaning over him and putting a bruise on his neck with his mouth. He’s fucking himself on Arthur’s cock, using him for anything, and Arthur just feels hot, getting hotter, wishing he could see or touch or just fucking come already.
He whole void is Eames, and he doesn’t realize he’s said the name until Eames says, “Yes, Arthur?”
Arthur thrusts up, his nerves are tingling and he feels like he’s been hanging at the edge of orgasm for so long, feel so good for too long.
“Please, god, Eames, fuck,” he says and then tugs at the belt on his wrists, hoping that Eames can makes sense of whatever he's just said.
Eames laughs and starts to speed it up, riding him now with a hand on his chest and Arthur does moan, finally lets his mouth open and all kind of noises spill out, groans and whines and Eames’ name. Eames makes a tight noise in response, and then just murmurs “Arthur” like it’s the filthiest word he can think of.
He can feel Eames clench up, his rhythm stutter, the moment right before he comes and it’s almost enough, but it isn’t. The jizz hits him in the chest, in the chin, and he feels Eames slump, sliding off his cock onto the bed next to him, where he starts touching again, flat palms all over him.
“Fuck,” Arthur says and it sounds like it’s been ripped from his throat. “Fuck, please,” and he thrashes, his right leg sliding over the sheets and he thrusts up into nothing and Eames presses down on his chest, and he wants to see, needs to touch his cock which is hard and so fucking close.
“It would be shame to just get you off without putting you to some use, wouldn’t it?” Eames asks and Arthur wishes he’d just stop asking questions because he knows, he knows Arthur can’t answer them, can’t really say much more than -
“Eames!” It comes out like a yelp as the man slowly, so slowly sinks down onto his cock, and it’s tight and hot and so slow and really that’s it, Arthur can only think about the slick up and down rhythm that Eames is setting, can only rock his hips up and pull, yank on the headboard behind him because he’d love to be touching Eames.
Eames takes his time, rocking back, touching Arthur’s chest, his ribs, leaning over him and putting a bruise on his neck with his mouth. He’s fucking himself on Arthur’s cock, using him for anything, and Arthur just feels hot, getting hotter, wishing he could see or touch or just fucking come already.
He whole void is Eames, and he doesn’t realize he’s said the name until Eames says, “Yes, Arthur?”
Arthur thrusts up, his nerves are tingling and he feels like he’s been hanging at the edge of orgasm for so long, feel so good for too long.
“Please, god, Eames, fuck,” he says and then tugs at the belt on his wrists, hoping that Eames can makes sense of whatever he's just said.
Eames laughs and starts to speed it up, riding him now with a hand on his chest and Arthur does moan, finally lets his mouth open and all kind of noises spill out, groans and whines and Eames’ name. Eames makes a tight noise in response, and then just murmurs “Arthur” like it’s the filthiest word he can think of.
He can feel Eames clench up, his rhythm stutter, the moment right before he comes and it’s almost enough, but it isn’t. The jizz hits him in the chest, in the chin, and he feels Eames slump, sliding off his cock onto the bed next to him, where he starts touching again, flat palms all over him.
“Fuck,” Arthur says and it sounds like it’s been ripped from his throat. “Fuck, please,” and he thrashes, his right leg sliding over the sheets and he thrusts up into nothing and Eames presses down on his chest, and he wants to see, needs to touch his cock which is hard and so fucking close.
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