Fic: Three is a Goodly Number
Three is a Goodly Number
Wordcount: 3480
Based on motetus's fantastically sexy spitroast art.
"Goddamn, that was good," Arthur says as he flops off Eames and onto the mattress.
"Mm," is Eames' decidedly muted response as he sits up and reaches for a tissue.
Arthur pauses in his congratulatory stretching. "What's that?"
"It was nice," Eames says, not looking up from dabbing at the come on his stomach.
"Nice," Arthur echoes, disbelieving. "What about when I--"
"Did that thing you've done a hundred times before?" Eames finishes cleaning himself off the drops the tissue into the trash. "Yes, that was very nice."
Arthur sits up. "Are you trying to tell me something here? Because if you are, you should say it."
Years ago, when they'd first started seeing each other, Arthur had found Eames' propensity for long, tangled sentences and constantly whirring thoughts to be mysterious and intriguing. After a year or two, the mystery wore off. Because of the accent, the intrigue remained a few years after that.
"It wasn't bad," Eames says.
"Wow," Arthur says flatly. "Thanks."
"Isn't this growing a bit familiar for you?" Eames asks. "I mean, it has been seven years."
"And familiar is--not good?" Arthur says, trying to guess at the seed of Eames' complaint, because there definitely is one, hidden somewhere.
"Let me ask you a question: in the past three years, how many new sexual positions have we tried?"
Arthur pauses to think. "There was that one with the table."
"No, we did that one when we first met. Didn't work then, either."
"How about in the stall--"
"Did that one five years ago on your birthday."
"Well," Arthur says, flustered now. "We have a lot of sex."
"It's not the amount of sex or the duration that I'm objecting to," Eames says as he gets up and goes to the bathroom. "It's that last week when I wanked you off with my hand I was reading a magazine at the same time."
Arthur tries to remember. "Was it an interesting article?"
"That is not the point," Eames says around a mouthful of toothpaste. "The point is that it's all become rote. I know your body so well I could get you off in my sleep. In fact, I'm fairly certain I have at least twice."
"Isn't that good?" Arthur asks, with still no idea what the problem is. "Nice and easy, right?"
"Anytime I want you, I can have you. Anytime you want me, you can have me," Eames says as he spits into the sink. "Don't you miss a challenge?"
"Do you want to stop having sex?" Arthur asks, not sure he likes the direction this conversation is headed.
"What? Lord no." Eames steps back into the bedroom. "What I'm suggesting is that we could try some new things. Shake the dust off, in a manner of speaking."
"Oh," Arthur says, tentatively relieved. "New sex things."
"Yes, precisely." Eames approaches the bed, not bothering to put any underwear on.
"But what's wrong with--"
"Nothing's wrong, per se, I enjoy what we do tremendously," Eames says. "I want to add a few new things to our repertoire, that's all."
Arthur feels the beginning of a frown coming on. "New things like what?"
"Oh, this and that." Eames sidles over and wraps his arms around Arthur's waist, nosing along Arthur's ear with minty fresh breath. "Who's my American bit of rough?" he asks in that cloying tone he sometimes uses to get his way.
"I've told you before that just because I didn't grow up on some ivy-covered country estate doesn't make me--"
Eames kisses Arthur's ear, then nuzzles along Arthur's jaw. "Who has my favorite accent in the all the world?"
"Eames--"
"Say 'aluminum' for me, won't you?" Eames squeezes Arthur's waist. "You know how much I love it."
Arthur sighs mightily before he gives in; they both know he will eventually, because he always does when it comes to Eames. "Aluminum."
"Oh, darling!" Eames exclaims delightedly while Arthur rolls his eyes and tries not to smile.
* * * * *
So they try new things.
Arthur buys a copy of the Kama Sutra (cliche, but cliche for a reason) and surprises himself by enjoying many of the anatomically improbable positions (though definitely not all). They watch porn together, which inspires Eames to make another attempt at deepthroating (unsuccessful, but effort greatly appreciated). They try public sex again (and end up banned from three restaurants and a theme park).
Despite Arthur's initial skepticism, it's kind of fun. It's almost like they're dating again, except now Arthur knows with complete certainty that he is getting laid at the end of the night.
"Have you ever thought about a threesome?" Eames asks one day while Arthur is examining a loose button on his coat.
"You know I have." Arthur pulls out his sewing kit and matches a black thread to his coat. "But after I nearly punched that guy out in St. Tropez, I thought we agreed on no more stuff with other people."
"That was rather unfortunate," Eames concedes. "I don't suppose you've grown more enlightened and restrained since then, have you?"
"When it comes to other men touching you, probably not," Arthur says as he threads his needle.
"Pity. Would you be open to it in a dream?"
"With a real person hooked up to the PASIV or with a projection?"
"Projection."
Arthur looks up from his button. "You have sex with your projections?"
"Of course. You haven't?"
"Never tried," Arthur lies. He takes a second to consider. "I guess if it's not a real person, I should be okay. It's practically masturbation."
"It's a bit more than--"
"Who were you thinking about?"
"Robert Fischer," Eames says without a moment's hesitation.
"Seems like you had that bullet loaded and ready to shoot."
"What can I say? I have a certain weakness for handsome brunets," Eames says, batting his eyelashes at Arthur.
"You've already sold me on the idea, you know," Arthur says, charmed in spite of himself. "You don't need to keep going."
Eames comes over to lay his head in Arthur's lap, displacing Arthur's half-sewn button and coat. "Perhaps I simply enjoy seeing you smile."
* * * * *
Arthur creates the setting, Eames fills it with his projections--or, in this case, a specific amorous projection. Arthur considers rendering something elaborate and fantastical to impress, but ultimately decides against it; it might be too distracting and Arthur wants to stay focused on the main event.
They'd spoken briefly about what was okay and what wasn't in the context of a dream threesome. Anything goes as far as Eames and the projection are concerned, but with regards to Arthur, there's no touching until Eames gives the say-so. Arthur will have to sit and watch Eames act out his exhibitionist tendencies for as long as Eames wants, which could be a long time; Eames loves attention, no matter how much of it he gets. Apparently, that part of their sex life hasn't gotten stale for Eames yet.
Arthur steps into the bedroom and there Eames and his projection are, making out. They're both fully clothed (disappointing) and Arthur pauses by the door to see if his arrival will prompt forward movement in the proceedings. It does not, as Eames and the projection continue kissing unhurriedly.
Arthur makes a disgruntled noise to register his disapproval and settles into a chair across from the bed. Close enough to watch but not close enough to touch. Not that there's much to watch or touch at the moment. He settles into a wide-legged sprawl, palms resting on his thighs, and waits.
Eames seems to take no notice of him, wholly absorbsed as he is in the projection's face. Which is a pretty one, Arthur has to admit--sharp cheekbones and an absurdly expensive statesman's haircut. Fischer's not Arthur's type--too slight and dull, really--but he is exactly Eames'. Which leads Arthur to wonder what that might say about him, since he, too, is exactly Eames' type.
Eames has always been something of a romantic kisser. He puts his whole body into the act, curving inward to create a private world between him and the object of his affection. His hands cradle the face, fingers stroke along cheeks and hairlines and ears, all while kisses are laid across the nose and eyelids and chin.
Arthur remembers the first time he kissed Eames. He'd half-wondered at the time if Eames was playing some sort of joke with the way he kissed, acting as if he wanted something more than a one-off fuck, as if he was preparing to fall in love.
But maybe that's just how Eames kisses. How he kissed before he met Arthur, how he'd kiss anybody if he and Arthur weren't together.
Arthur pushes that unproductive line of thought from his mind and refocuses on the way the projection is unbuttoning Eames' shirt, unveiling Eames' bulk bit by bit. It's a familiar reveal, though different from this angle--watching as a voyeur and not a participant. Undressing Eames has become a routine affair for Arthur over the years, as practiced as undressing himself, and there's something unsettling about watching another man do it now.
A part of Arthur expects Eames to push the projection's hands away, to cover up and perhaps even call the whole thing off. Irrational, of course--this was Eames' idea, and he's likely had sex with this particular projection dozens of times by now. Arthur knows this all mentally, but he's unprepared for how he feels when Eames not only doesn't pull away, but actively leans into the projection's touch. As eagerly as he leans into Arthur's.
Arthur takes a steadying breath as Eames slides out of his pants--no underwear--and bends down to nuzzle at the projection's crotch. Eames has spent his whole life being told about his cocksucking lips, to the point where his only reaction now is to roll his eyes. Hell, Eames has told Arthur stories about men who came as soon as he got on his knees, nevermind got their cock in his mouth.
Truth be told, Eames is a bit of a lazy cocksucker, with little technique to speak of and no desire to do much beyond suck at the head a bit. In the grand scheme of things, it's made up for by the fact that Eames has a fantastic ass and is open to Arthur doing whatever he wants with it whenever he wants. Given that some of the men Arthur's previously dated didn't like so much as a finger near the ass, Arthur supposes uninspired blowjobs are a fair tradeoff.
Arthur watches with idle interest as the projection's pants are unzipped and his cock appears. It's a nice cock, rock hard (of course), thick, not too long. Arthur wonders whether it's based on the actual Fischer's anatomy, and then whether Eames has ever had opportunity to study the real thing in person. Another troubling and unproductive line of thought to sidestep.
Eames puts his mouth dutifully around the head of the projection's cock and, as per usual, leaves it there with some mild suction. Arthur checks his watch discreetly and hopes they move onto the next stage of sex soon.
Then the projection speaks.
"Come on," the projection says in a perfect facsimile of Fischer's voice and accent. "You can do better than that." Arthur sits up in surprise when the projection puts a hand on the back of Eames' head and pushes down.
Eames sputters and pulls off, eyes watering. "What the--"
"You don't really think that's going to do it for me, do you?" Fischer says, with a bit of wry mischief in his expression. Eames, still outraged and bewildered, wipes the spit from the side of his mouth and doesn't reply. "Come on, I'll show you how it's done."
Fischer strips off his shirt and pants carelessly, ducking down to take Eames' cock in his mouth without waiting for permission. Fischer's got a pretty nice ass now that Arthur has the view to inspect it--not as full as Eames', but firm and tight.
Fischer's also got quite the mouth as well if Eames' slightly stunned expression is to be believed. Fischer's bobbing up and down, one hand holding Eames' legs wide open while the other slips behind to do something Arthur can't quite see. Arthur sits up and leans forward, tilting to find a better vantage point for the teasing or fingering or who knows what else that's taking place. Eames is quaking already, as responsive to anal stimulation as always, and Arthur can practically taste the sweat of Eames while he writhes.
"Oh," Eames says, shuddering. "How did you--where did you learn--"
Arthur makes the mistake of looking up from where Fischer's mouth closes around dick to Eames' eyes. Their gazes lock and Arthur is abruptly reminded this isn't some random stranger in a porno he's watching get sucked off but Eames--the infuriating, devastating con man he's been living with for over five years. Eames, who is staring back at him with a mixture of cloudy lust and sharp-eyed awareness, hunger and startling vulnerability. Eames, who is apparently getting the blowjob of his dreams--yet still watches Arthur as he receives it.
"This is all your fault," Eames says accusingly in between panting. "Normally, my projections are quite docile--"
"Are you complaining?" Arthur replies, leaning forward in his seat and wiping the sweat from his palms.
"Yes," Eames hisses as his toes curl. "I'm about to go off like a teenager while you sit there, all self-satisfied--"
"You're such a liar," Arthur says, smiling. "You love this."
Arthur is right, of course, because Eames comes in the next five seconds--a shuddery orgasm that rocks him from head to foot. It's been some time since Arthur has observed Eames coming at such a distance (he hasn't even walked in on Eames masturbating in months) and Arthur finds himself enjoying it without the distraction of his own impending orgasm.
Fischer sits up and kneewalks across the bed behind Eames. "Get on your hands and knees."
"Such impertinence," Eames grumbles, but shifts his lax and satisfied body into position easily enough.
"I'm going to fuck you," Fischer says as he shoves a finger into Eames' ass roughly. "I'm going to make you come on my cock."
"Ah, god," Eames says, breathing heavily as Fischer fingers him. "You bastard. What happened to my sweet, attentive sex-projection--"
"Oh, I'm not your projection," Fischer says as he removes his fingers and proceeds to screw his cock in. "I'm Arthur's."
Arthur's never seen anyone fuck Eames. He's seen himself fuck Eames on a few occasions thanks to mirrors and Eames' aforementioned exhibitionism, but to watch another man--even if it's apparently his own projection--fuck Eames is. Well, he's not sure he enjoys the rising tide of feeling in his chest.
Arthur looks away from Eames' breathless expression and notices vaguely that he's hard. Eames and Arthur both are, and Fischer of course. The zipper is pulling uncomfortably tight across Arthur's crotch so he unzips it and eases his dick out, strokes it absently and considers shutting his eyes.
"No touching," Eames says.
Arthur pauses. "I'm not touching anyone."
"No touching yourself until I say," Eames insists, demanding Arthur meet his eyes again.
"So, what, I'm supposed to just watch you get fucked by someone else?" Arthur asks, sharper than he intends.
Eames lifts his chin. "Yes. That's rather the point."
Arthur presses his lips together. "Maybe I don't like the point."
"He's your projection," Eames cuts off with a small moan. "He doesn't quite fuck like you, though."
Arthur swallows. "I want to kill that projection."
"Even if you kill me, you know Eames is just going to come back and dream of me on his own," Fischer says, completely self-assured as he thrusts into Eames unrelentingly. "Now that he's had a taste."
"I can't believe you're even as bloody smug as Arthur," Eames groans.
"I think he has a right to be, don't you?" Fischer interjects before Arthur can respond. Fischer trails his fingers down Eames' spine and then along his waist to the front of his body, taking hold of Eames' leaking cock. "Has anyone ever fucked you like I have? Like Arthur has?"
"There have been others," Eames protests, but it sounds weak as Fischer hauls him upright by the waist, practically presenting him--sweaty, flushed, fucking hot as hell--to Arthur.
"You've thought about this, haven't you?" Fischer says harshly into Eames' ear. "Being double-teamed? Having two cocks inside you? Being completely filled and overwhelmed and loving it?"
Eames sags back against Fischer and stares at Arthur with pleasure-hazed eyes. "Yes."
Arthur stands and takes off his shirt. "Do you want this, Eames?"
Eames' gaze roams over him hungrily, from his face to his chest to his cock. "You know I do."
"Then you should tell me." Arthur lets his pants drop to the floor. "What you want."
Eames falls forward onto the mattress and crawls towards the edge of the bed. "I want to come with your cock down my throat and another cock up my arse."
Arthur steps towards Eames and strokes his hair back. Eames reaches up to take Arthur's cock in hand but Arthur halts it. "No touching unless I say."
"Darling," Eames says, and there's an edge of a whine in his voice.
"Suck me like you mean it," Arthur says, pulling his hips back. "Or I go back to watching across the room."
Eames shudders and then ducks down to nose at Arthur's balls, the base of his cock. He begins to lap across the area, kitten licks wetting everywhere until he takes Arthur's balls into his mouth to suck, impossibly gentle.
Arthur exhales deeply at the attention and resists allowing his eyes to close, wanting to watch every second of this. "Good."
Eames licks up the vein on the underside of Arthur's cock, traces the frenelum, sucks the precome leaking from the slit away. He takes the head of the cock in his mouth, adjusts to the angle, and then looks up at Arthur as he sinks down, cock filling his mouth and throat.
"God, that's good," Arthur says, practically ready to come. "You were made for this, Eames. Taking cock from the front and the back, being used to get me off however I want."
Eames moans as his eyes flutter shut and Arthur doesn't need to look to know Eames is coming, fingers digging into the sheets. Arthur strokes his hair through it, thumbs away the sweat trickling down his forehead, and waits for Eames to open his orgasm-fogged eyes again.
"I'm going to fuck your face and come down your throat while my projection fucks your tight ass and comes at the same time," Arthur says, forcing his voice to stay level and calm. "Maybe next time, we'll switch positions so I can can shove my dick up your ass and listen to you moan around someone else's cock."
Eames begins to move up and down Arthur's cock, sucking and licking in enthusiastic consent. It takes no time at all for Arthur to gasp and come, one heavy hand on the back of Eames' neck as he does.
After he's done, Eames reluctantly releases his dick and Arthur flops sideways onto the mattress. Fischer pulls out of Eames, also finished.
Eames, however, doesn't lie down. Instead he climbs onto Arthur and slides his ass onto Arthur's half-hard cock, so Arthur can feel the slick of Fischer's come inside. Eames doesn't bother to wipe at the liquid trickling down the corner of his mouth as he jerks himself until he splatters Arthur's abdomen, chest, and chin.
Eames collapses onto Arthur with a contented sigh. "Now that was good."
Arthur kisses the corner of Eames' slack mouth. "How many times did you come?"
"Four? Five? I lost count." Eames gives Arthur a small kiss back. "I love dream logic or lack thereof. God knows your cock's never going to fit down my throat otherwise."
"I guess there is some merit to trying new sex things," Arthur says, bracing for Eames' insufferable crowing over how right he always is.
Eames hums as he settles more comfortably on top of Arthur. "Thank you for giving this a chance and not shooting the projection between the eyes, darling. I appreciate it."
"Projections are one thing," Arthur says as he feels a surge of territorial possessiveness again. "No one else."
"Yes, yes, you've peed on me and marked me, I'm all yours, etc etc." Despite his dry words, Eames kisses Arthur one more time, slowly, fingertips skating across Arthur's cheekbones, hands cradling his face like he's the only person Eames has ever wanted to kiss.
fin
Poll Fic: Three is a Goodly Number
Wordcount: 3480
Based on motetus's fantastically sexy spitroast art.
"Goddamn, that was good," Arthur says as he flops off Eames and onto the mattress.
"Mm," is Eames' decidedly muted response as he sits up and reaches for a tissue.
Arthur pauses in his congratulatory stretching. "What's that?"
"It was nice," Eames says, not looking up from dabbing at the come on his stomach.
"Nice," Arthur echoes, disbelieving. "What about when I--"
"Did that thing you've done a hundred times before?" Eames finishes cleaning himself off the drops the tissue into the trash. "Yes, that was very nice."
Arthur sits up. "Are you trying to tell me something here? Because if you are, you should say it."
Years ago, when they'd first started seeing each other, Arthur had found Eames' propensity for long, tangled sentences and constantly whirring thoughts to be mysterious and intriguing. After a year or two, the mystery wore off. Because of the accent, the intrigue remained a few years after that.
"It wasn't bad," Eames says.
"Wow," Arthur says flatly. "Thanks."
"Isn't this growing a bit familiar for you?" Eames asks. "I mean, it has been seven years."
"And familiar is--not good?" Arthur says, trying to guess at the seed of Eames' complaint, because there definitely is one, hidden somewhere.
"Let me ask you a question: in the past three years, how many new sexual positions have we tried?"
Arthur pauses to think. "There was that one with the table."
"No, we did that one when we first met. Didn't work then, either."
"How about in the stall--"
"Did that one five years ago on your birthday."
"Well," Arthur says, flustered now. "We have a lot of sex."
"It's not the amount of sex or the duration that I'm objecting to," Eames says as he gets up and goes to the bathroom. "It's that last week when I wanked you off with my hand I was reading a magazine at the same time."
Arthur tries to remember. "Was it an interesting article?"
"That is not the point," Eames says around a mouthful of toothpaste. "The point is that it's all become rote. I know your body so well I could get you off in my sleep. In fact, I'm fairly certain I have at least twice."
"Isn't that good?" Arthur asks, with still no idea what the problem is. "Nice and easy, right?"
"Anytime I want you, I can have you. Anytime you want me, you can have me," Eames says as he spits into the sink. "Don't you miss a challenge?"
"Do you want to stop having sex?" Arthur asks, not sure he likes the direction this conversation is headed.
"What? Lord no." Eames steps back into the bedroom. "What I'm suggesting is that we could try some new things. Shake the dust off, in a manner of speaking."
"Oh," Arthur says, tentatively relieved. "New sex things."
"Yes, precisely." Eames approaches the bed, not bothering to put any underwear on.
"But what's wrong with--"
"Nothing's wrong, per se, I enjoy what we do tremendously," Eames says. "I want to add a few new things to our repertoire, that's all."
Arthur feels the beginning of a frown coming on. "New things like what?"
"Oh, this and that." Eames sidles over and wraps his arms around Arthur's waist, nosing along Arthur's ear with minty fresh breath. "Who's my American bit of rough?" he asks in that cloying tone he sometimes uses to get his way.
"I've told you before that just because I didn't grow up on some ivy-covered country estate doesn't make me--"
Eames kisses Arthur's ear, then nuzzles along Arthur's jaw. "Who has my favorite accent in the all the world?"
"Eames--"
"Say 'aluminum' for me, won't you?" Eames squeezes Arthur's waist. "You know how much I love it."
Arthur sighs mightily before he gives in; they both know he will eventually, because he always does when it comes to Eames. "Aluminum."
"Oh, darling!" Eames exclaims delightedly while Arthur rolls his eyes and tries not to smile.
* * * * *
So they try new things.
Arthur buys a copy of the Kama Sutra (cliche, but cliche for a reason) and surprises himself by enjoying many of the anatomically improbable positions (though definitely not all). They watch porn together, which inspires Eames to make another attempt at deepthroating (unsuccessful, but effort greatly appreciated). They try public sex again (and end up banned from three restaurants and a theme park).
Despite Arthur's initial skepticism, it's kind of fun. It's almost like they're dating again, except now Arthur knows with complete certainty that he is getting laid at the end of the night.
"Have you ever thought about a threesome?" Eames asks one day while Arthur is examining a loose button on his coat.
"You know I have." Arthur pulls out his sewing kit and matches a black thread to his coat. "But after I nearly punched that guy out in St. Tropez, I thought we agreed on no more stuff with other people."
"That was rather unfortunate," Eames concedes. "I don't suppose you've grown more enlightened and restrained since then, have you?"
"When it comes to other men touching you, probably not," Arthur says as he threads his needle.
"Pity. Would you be open to it in a dream?"
"With a real person hooked up to the PASIV or with a projection?"
"Projection."
Arthur looks up from his button. "You have sex with your projections?"
"Of course. You haven't?"
"Never tried," Arthur lies. He takes a second to consider. "I guess if it's not a real person, I should be okay. It's practically masturbation."
"It's a bit more than--"
"Who were you thinking about?"
"Robert Fischer," Eames says without a moment's hesitation.
"Seems like you had that bullet loaded and ready to shoot."
"What can I say? I have a certain weakness for handsome brunets," Eames says, batting his eyelashes at Arthur.
"You've already sold me on the idea, you know," Arthur says, charmed in spite of himself. "You don't need to keep going."
Eames comes over to lay his head in Arthur's lap, displacing Arthur's half-sewn button and coat. "Perhaps I simply enjoy seeing you smile."
* * * * *
Arthur creates the setting, Eames fills it with his projections--or, in this case, a specific amorous projection. Arthur considers rendering something elaborate and fantastical to impress, but ultimately decides against it; it might be too distracting and Arthur wants to stay focused on the main event.
They'd spoken briefly about what was okay and what wasn't in the context of a dream threesome. Anything goes as far as Eames and the projection are concerned, but with regards to Arthur, there's no touching until Eames gives the say-so. Arthur will have to sit and watch Eames act out his exhibitionist tendencies for as long as Eames wants, which could be a long time; Eames loves attention, no matter how much of it he gets. Apparently, that part of their sex life hasn't gotten stale for Eames yet.
Arthur steps into the bedroom and there Eames and his projection are, making out. They're both fully clothed (disappointing) and Arthur pauses by the door to see if his arrival will prompt forward movement in the proceedings. It does not, as Eames and the projection continue kissing unhurriedly.
Arthur makes a disgruntled noise to register his disapproval and settles into a chair across from the bed. Close enough to watch but not close enough to touch. Not that there's much to watch or touch at the moment. He settles into a wide-legged sprawl, palms resting on his thighs, and waits.
Eames seems to take no notice of him, wholly absorbsed as he is in the projection's face. Which is a pretty one, Arthur has to admit--sharp cheekbones and an absurdly expensive statesman's haircut. Fischer's not Arthur's type--too slight and dull, really--but he is exactly Eames'. Which leads Arthur to wonder what that might say about him, since he, too, is exactly Eames' type.
Eames has always been something of a romantic kisser. He puts his whole body into the act, curving inward to create a private world between him and the object of his affection. His hands cradle the face, fingers stroke along cheeks and hairlines and ears, all while kisses are laid across the nose and eyelids and chin.
Arthur remembers the first time he kissed Eames. He'd half-wondered at the time if Eames was playing some sort of joke with the way he kissed, acting as if he wanted something more than a one-off fuck, as if he was preparing to fall in love.
But maybe that's just how Eames kisses. How he kissed before he met Arthur, how he'd kiss anybody if he and Arthur weren't together.
Arthur pushes that unproductive line of thought from his mind and refocuses on the way the projection is unbuttoning Eames' shirt, unveiling Eames' bulk bit by bit. It's a familiar reveal, though different from this angle--watching as a voyeur and not a participant. Undressing Eames has become a routine affair for Arthur over the years, as practiced as undressing himself, and there's something unsettling about watching another man do it now.
A part of Arthur expects Eames to push the projection's hands away, to cover up and perhaps even call the whole thing off. Irrational, of course--this was Eames' idea, and he's likely had sex with this particular projection dozens of times by now. Arthur knows this all mentally, but he's unprepared for how he feels when Eames not only doesn't pull away, but actively leans into the projection's touch. As eagerly as he leans into Arthur's.
Arthur takes a steadying breath as Eames slides out of his pants--no underwear--and bends down to nuzzle at the projection's crotch. Eames has spent his whole life being told about his cocksucking lips, to the point where his only reaction now is to roll his eyes. Hell, Eames has told Arthur stories about men who came as soon as he got on his knees, nevermind got their cock in his mouth.
Truth be told, Eames is a bit of a lazy cocksucker, with little technique to speak of and no desire to do much beyond suck at the head a bit. In the grand scheme of things, it's made up for by the fact that Eames has a fantastic ass and is open to Arthur doing whatever he wants with it whenever he wants. Given that some of the men Arthur's previously dated didn't like so much as a finger near the ass, Arthur supposes uninspired blowjobs are a fair tradeoff.
Arthur watches with idle interest as the projection's pants are unzipped and his cock appears. It's a nice cock, rock hard (of course), thick, not too long. Arthur wonders whether it's based on the actual Fischer's anatomy, and then whether Eames has ever had opportunity to study the real thing in person. Another troubling and unproductive line of thought to sidestep.
Eames puts his mouth dutifully around the head of the projection's cock and, as per usual, leaves it there with some mild suction. Arthur checks his watch discreetly and hopes they move onto the next stage of sex soon.
Then the projection speaks.
"Come on," the projection says in a perfect facsimile of Fischer's voice and accent. "You can do better than that." Arthur sits up in surprise when the projection puts a hand on the back of Eames' head and pushes down.
Eames sputters and pulls off, eyes watering. "What the--"
"You don't really think that's going to do it for me, do you?" Fischer says, with a bit of wry mischief in his expression. Eames, still outraged and bewildered, wipes the spit from the side of his mouth and doesn't reply. "Come on, I'll show you how it's done."
Fischer strips off his shirt and pants carelessly, ducking down to take Eames' cock in his mouth without waiting for permission. Fischer's got a pretty nice ass now that Arthur has the view to inspect it--not as full as Eames', but firm and tight.
Fischer's also got quite the mouth as well if Eames' slightly stunned expression is to be believed. Fischer's bobbing up and down, one hand holding Eames' legs wide open while the other slips behind to do something Arthur can't quite see. Arthur sits up and leans forward, tilting to find a better vantage point for the teasing or fingering or who knows what else that's taking place. Eames is quaking already, as responsive to anal stimulation as always, and Arthur can practically taste the sweat of Eames while he writhes.
"Oh," Eames says, shuddering. "How did you--where did you learn--"
Arthur makes the mistake of looking up from where Fischer's mouth closes around dick to Eames' eyes. Their gazes lock and Arthur is abruptly reminded this isn't some random stranger in a porno he's watching get sucked off but Eames--the infuriating, devastating con man he's been living with for over five years. Eames, who is staring back at him with a mixture of cloudy lust and sharp-eyed awareness, hunger and startling vulnerability. Eames, who is apparently getting the blowjob of his dreams--yet still watches Arthur as he receives it.
"This is all your fault," Eames says accusingly in between panting. "Normally, my projections are quite docile--"
"Are you complaining?" Arthur replies, leaning forward in his seat and wiping the sweat from his palms.
"Yes," Eames hisses as his toes curl. "I'm about to go off like a teenager while you sit there, all self-satisfied--"
"You're such a liar," Arthur says, smiling. "You love this."
Arthur is right, of course, because Eames comes in the next five seconds--a shuddery orgasm that rocks him from head to foot. It's been some time since Arthur has observed Eames coming at such a distance (he hasn't even walked in on Eames masturbating in months) and Arthur finds himself enjoying it without the distraction of his own impending orgasm.
Fischer sits up and kneewalks across the bed behind Eames. "Get on your hands and knees."
"Such impertinence," Eames grumbles, but shifts his lax and satisfied body into position easily enough.
"I'm going to fuck you," Fischer says as he shoves a finger into Eames' ass roughly. "I'm going to make you come on my cock."
"Ah, god," Eames says, breathing heavily as Fischer fingers him. "You bastard. What happened to my sweet, attentive sex-projection--"
"Oh, I'm not your projection," Fischer says as he removes his fingers and proceeds to screw his cock in. "I'm Arthur's."
Arthur's never seen anyone fuck Eames. He's seen himself fuck Eames on a few occasions thanks to mirrors and Eames' aforementioned exhibitionism, but to watch another man--even if it's apparently his own projection--fuck Eames is. Well, he's not sure he enjoys the rising tide of feeling in his chest.
Arthur looks away from Eames' breathless expression and notices vaguely that he's hard. Eames and Arthur both are, and Fischer of course. The zipper is pulling uncomfortably tight across Arthur's crotch so he unzips it and eases his dick out, strokes it absently and considers shutting his eyes.
"No touching," Eames says.
Arthur pauses. "I'm not touching anyone."
"No touching yourself until I say," Eames insists, demanding Arthur meet his eyes again.
"So, what, I'm supposed to just watch you get fucked by someone else?" Arthur asks, sharper than he intends.
Eames lifts his chin. "Yes. That's rather the point."
Arthur presses his lips together. "Maybe I don't like the point."
"He's your projection," Eames cuts off with a small moan. "He doesn't quite fuck like you, though."
Arthur swallows. "I want to kill that projection."
"Even if you kill me, you know Eames is just going to come back and dream of me on his own," Fischer says, completely self-assured as he thrusts into Eames unrelentingly. "Now that he's had a taste."
"I can't believe you're even as bloody smug as Arthur," Eames groans.
"I think he has a right to be, don't you?" Fischer interjects before Arthur can respond. Fischer trails his fingers down Eames' spine and then along his waist to the front of his body, taking hold of Eames' leaking cock. "Has anyone ever fucked you like I have? Like Arthur has?"
"There have been others," Eames protests, but it sounds weak as Fischer hauls him upright by the waist, practically presenting him--sweaty, flushed, fucking hot as hell--to Arthur.
"You've thought about this, haven't you?" Fischer says harshly into Eames' ear. "Being double-teamed? Having two cocks inside you? Being completely filled and overwhelmed and loving it?"
Eames sags back against Fischer and stares at Arthur with pleasure-hazed eyes. "Yes."
Arthur stands and takes off his shirt. "Do you want this, Eames?"
Eames' gaze roams over him hungrily, from his face to his chest to his cock. "You know I do."
"Then you should tell me." Arthur lets his pants drop to the floor. "What you want."
Eames falls forward onto the mattress and crawls towards the edge of the bed. "I want to come with your cock down my throat and another cock up my arse."
Arthur steps towards Eames and strokes his hair back. Eames reaches up to take Arthur's cock in hand but Arthur halts it. "No touching unless I say."
"Darling," Eames says, and there's an edge of a whine in his voice.
"Suck me like you mean it," Arthur says, pulling his hips back. "Or I go back to watching across the room."
Eames shudders and then ducks down to nose at Arthur's balls, the base of his cock. He begins to lap across the area, kitten licks wetting everywhere until he takes Arthur's balls into his mouth to suck, impossibly gentle.
Arthur exhales deeply at the attention and resists allowing his eyes to close, wanting to watch every second of this. "Good."
Eames licks up the vein on the underside of Arthur's cock, traces the frenelum, sucks the precome leaking from the slit away. He takes the head of the cock in his mouth, adjusts to the angle, and then looks up at Arthur as he sinks down, cock filling his mouth and throat.
"God, that's good," Arthur says, practically ready to come. "You were made for this, Eames. Taking cock from the front and the back, being used to get me off however I want."
Eames moans as his eyes flutter shut and Arthur doesn't need to look to know Eames is coming, fingers digging into the sheets. Arthur strokes his hair through it, thumbs away the sweat trickling down his forehead, and waits for Eames to open his orgasm-fogged eyes again.
"I'm going to fuck your face and come down your throat while my projection fucks your tight ass and comes at the same time," Arthur says, forcing his voice to stay level and calm. "Maybe next time, we'll switch positions so I can can shove my dick up your ass and listen to you moan around someone else's cock."
Eames begins to move up and down Arthur's cock, sucking and licking in enthusiastic consent. It takes no time at all for Arthur to gasp and come, one heavy hand on the back of Eames' neck as he does.
After he's done, Eames reluctantly releases his dick and Arthur flops sideways onto the mattress. Fischer pulls out of Eames, also finished.
Eames, however, doesn't lie down. Instead he climbs onto Arthur and slides his ass onto Arthur's half-hard cock, so Arthur can feel the slick of Fischer's come inside. Eames doesn't bother to wipe at the liquid trickling down the corner of his mouth as he jerks himself until he splatters Arthur's abdomen, chest, and chin.
Eames collapses onto Arthur with a contented sigh. "Now that was good."
Arthur kisses the corner of Eames' slack mouth. "How many times did you come?"
"Four? Five? I lost count." Eames gives Arthur a small kiss back. "I love dream logic or lack thereof. God knows your cock's never going to fit down my throat otherwise."
"I guess there is some merit to trying new sex things," Arthur says, bracing for Eames' insufferable crowing over how right he always is.
Eames hums as he settles more comfortably on top of Arthur. "Thank you for giving this a chance and not shooting the projection between the eyes, darling. I appreciate it."
"Projections are one thing," Arthur says as he feels a surge of territorial possessiveness again. "No one else."
"Yes, yes, you've peed on me and marked me, I'm all yours, etc etc." Despite his dry words, Eames kisses Arthur one more time, slowly, fingertips skating across Arthur's cheekbones, hands cradling his face like he's the only person Eames has ever wanted to kiss.
fin
Poll Fic: Three is a Goodly Number