Inception Kink Meme - Arthur/Eames, frottage
Title: Upgrades
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Arthur & Eames are trapped in a small space together (hiding from someone?), accidental stimulation leads to Eames getting handsy leads to Arthur losing that perfect control he always has leads to heavy making out/frottage/through-the-clothes groping
Dom had insisted on a ridiculous number of training exercises before he could declare them ready to go into Fischer’s head, and though Arthur could respect a devotion to being prepared, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy being paired up with Eames twice a week to fumble around in some maze trying to defeat whatever tricks had been added in this time. Then again, the last two times he’d attempted this particular scenario he’d gotten killed almost instantly, so he could understand Dom’s insistence that he give it another go.
Of course, Eames wouldn’t shut up about the fact that he’d made the same stupid mistake both times, bolting around a corner without checking to see if there was anything waiting for him and getting a face full of shotgun. It was infuriating, and even as Dom hit the button to send them both under, Arthur could see that stupid smirk out of the corner of his eye.
They came into the dream mid-step, in the same nondescript hall of a hospital they’d found themselves in every time. They’d already abandoned using this level of the dream in the actual job, deciding that there were just too many ways that trying to replicate the actual hospital Maurice Fischer was dying in could go wrong. But, Ariadne had spent nearly a week building the maze, so her work was at least being put to good use for their training exercises.
It was a simple enough objective. They were supposed to avoid the projections (Eames’, in this case,) using whatever they could. Dom had spouted something about it helping them hone ingenuity and teamwork, which would be important on the job, though Arthur couldn’t help but wonder whether his repeated pairing of Arthur with Eames was some foolish attempt to make them bond and stop arguing.
Arthur seriously doubted any power in the world, even the threat of temporary death, was going to be able to make Eames any less of an insolent bastard. Even if he was good at what he did.
Arthur hoisted the large, automatic rifle he was armed with onto his shoulder, and shot Eames a glance over his shoulder before striding off down the hall in a direction he knew from experience would take him towards a small knot of projections. They were both dressed casually, completely innocuous aside from the weapons, but the maze had been tweaked in such a way that the projections would be after them as soon as they were spotted, so Arthur didn’t bother to try stealth. Originally, of course, the level had been straightforward enough that they could avoid detection, but for the purpose of the exercise, Ariadne had added in a few hallways with recursively looping doors and examination rooms that were bigger on the inside than the out.
Eames’ footsteps behind him and to the right were solid. They didn’t need to speak at this point. They’d crossed the first hurdle, getting past a group of angry orderlies inexplicably armed with World-War-II-era revolvers, easily in their last two tries, and it wouldn’t be hard this time.
Only, they hadn’t banked on there being three times as many projections waiting around the corner on this run through, or on one of them holding a grenade.
Eames yanked him back by the arm just as the projections started firing wildly, and they both broke into a sprint back in the opposite direction, diving behind the nurses station in a graceless tangle of limbs just as they heard the grenade clatter after them. Arthur ducked down, covering his head with one arm, and the instant before it exploded he found that Eames had come up onto his knees to put himself between Arthur and the hallway where the blast would be coming from. Arthur didn’t have time to shout at him to put his idiot head down before the grenade blew, sending chunks of plaster raining down onto the counter above them and setting off the fire alarms.
“That girl sure knows how to spice up a party.” Eames said, and Arthur could tell by his voice that he was grinning like a fool. Scowling, Arthur struggled to his feet, peering cautiously through the thin fog of dust towards the hall. The projections had probably been caught in their own blast, he reasoned, and he glanced down.
“They’re your subconscious. How do you know you’re not the one who gave them bombs?” he pointed out, offering Eames a hand to help him up. Eames dragged himself up, and shifted his grip on his own gun with a casual shrug. Arthur rolled his eyes, “Come on. Back this way, we might be able to find cover and pick them off as they come after us.”
They rounded a corner, heading down a different hall that made a sharp right turn a little ways ahead. Almost at once, another group of projections appeared around the corner. The one in the lead shouted, and they broke into a run, brandishing what looked like metal pipes and large chunks of broken concrete.
Arthur swung his gun up and fired, sending the first few projections to the ground in a spray of bullets, but Eames grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back, “Come on, Darling, there’s too many that way. We need to hide.”
“We could take them!” Arthur protested, but this time it was Eames turn to roll his eyes, and as Arthur saw the projections shove their fallen comrades aside and resume their charge, he turned and followed Eames down a side-corridor. This one was more dimly lit, and Arthur nearly ran into Eames when he stopped halfway down to yank open a door marked ‘storage.’
“What are you doing?” Arthur demanded, but Eames only ducked inside and dragged Arthur after him, slamming the door shut as soon and locking it as they were inside. The space was cramped, with shelves of cleaning supplies all around that forced them to stand with their faces mere inches from each others. Arthur tried to scoot back, to give Eames as much space as he could, but there was a shelve shoved into the small of his back that made it impossible to get any further away. He sighed, heavily, the scent of chemical cleaners filling his nose. “What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?”
“They won’t look for us in here,” Eames said with more confidence than Arthur felt. Eames was taller than Arthur, but not by much, and their faces were almost on the level. Arthur frowned, turning to look at the door.
“Won’t be much protection against a grenade.”
“You worry too much, Arthur.” Eames said-Well, purred, really, and Arthur shot him an annoyed look. As he turned, he felt Eames lean into him, and one of Eames’ legs slipped between Arthur’s, pressing his thigh against his.
Arthur jumped, jamming the shelf into his back again and bit back the urge to yelp in surprise. Instead, he shoved Eames as hard as he could in the confined space. It didn’t do much good, as Eames also had his back pressed against a shelf, but Arthur hissed, “Get off.”
“Maybe I should,” Eames said, and Arthur growled in frustration, squirming a little to try and find some more space. He only ended up straddling Eames’ leg, rubbing up against him in a way that would have been completely inappropriate in all other contexts. Eames chuckled, and Arthur wanted to punch him, “A little eager, are we, Darling?”
Suddenly there were hands at the hem of the t-shirt Arthur was wearing, and he felt Eames slip a few fingers up against his skin, against his hip. He went still with shock for a second, then started struggling for the door. Eames had brought his knee up, however, and Arthur found all at once that he was pinned, with Eames’ solid limbs between him and the only exit. The hand on his hip started to inch higher, “Better keep quiet, or they’ll realize we’re here and kill us, and then we’ll have to start this whole thing all over again.”
“Stop it.” Arthur didn’t let the words sound like a plea, but even in the dim light he was pretty sure Eames could see that his face was flushed. He rarely got flustered, but when he did he blushed uncontrollably. It was part of the reason he kept such a tight rein on his emotions. If he didn’t, they’d be written all over his face.
In the tight space, he didn’t have much room to maneuver, but he brought his hands up to press against Eames’ chest, “I mean it.”
“Shh,” Eames said, leaning in close to murmur into Arthur’s ear, “I hear them coming.”
Arthur could make out the footsteps too, and even though they both were holding their breath, Eames’ hands were still, maddeningly, tracing little circles on Arthur’s stomach, up his ribs. Arthur bit his lip, hard, to keep a giggle from escaping. Even if silence wasn’t the key to keeping the projections from finding him, he wasn’t going to give Eames the knowledge that he was ticklish.
The footsteps outside slowed, and then stopped, and Arthur could hear voices, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He tried to bat away Eames’ distracting hands, but Eames was stronger than he was and it only made Eames’ chest rumble with a silent laugh.
The projections started to move away again, and Arthur let out the breath he had been holding in a rush, wriggling a little as he tried to squeeze away from Eames’ attack. Those hands were still tracing up and down his ribs, and he let out a breathless little yelp, trying to fight back the wave of ticklish giggles that were trying to fight out of his throat. He was flushed and bothered, but all his squirming was rubbing him up against Eames’ leg, and he realized with a jolt of horror that he was started to feel aroused, as well.
“Stop that r-right now!” he said, without the force he’d hoped for, and Eames laughed again, one of his hands sweeping across to brush Arthur’s nipple. It sent a little jolt through him, and Arthur heard a noise come out of his throat that he’d had absolutely no say in creating. His cheeks were burning, his breath coming faster, and he was sure Eames could feel the frantic pace of his heart. But, as he tried to twist towards the door again, Eames leaned down and rubbed his thigh right up against Arthur’s crotch, distracting him thoroughly with a shock of pleasure that made his cock start to swell in earnest. “Fucking-Eames-!“
“Not enough room for that, I’m afraid,” Eames was grinning in earnest, now, and leaned forward to nip at Arthur earlobe, “We’ll just have to pass the time until we wake up in some other way. We can tell Cobb that we were victorious, and we can finally move on to something else.”
Arthur didn’t respond. The pressure of Eames’ leg against him was all he could really concentrate on, though the hands roaming up and down his body were certainly causing their own distractions, and he tried to gather his thoughts enough to tell Eames that he’d rather face the projections, thanks. But he found himself rubbing up against the other man in earnest, and though he was still shoving half-heartedly in an attempt to get Eames off him, it was without the real vehemence he’d had before. There was a need started to grow, an earnest desire for Eames to keep touching him. Not the light, fleeting touches, but to reach down and grab his dick and make him cum-
Arthur tried to drive the thoughts out of his head, trying to remind himself that he didn’t like Eames. But, his body was responding to Eames’ hand, to Eames’ touch, and Arthur didn’t have the wherewithal to argue as Eames slid a hand down and palmed the front of Arthur’s jeans, squeezing a little through the fabric.
Eames kept smiling that infuriating grin, then shifted a little so he was pressed, chest-to-chest against Arthur’s body. He started to gently grind his crotch against Arthur’s, and Arthur could feel his erection even through his jeans. Arthur squeezed his eyes closed, panting a little bit, and turned his head to the side. He felt Eames’ laugh as a gentle vibration the shook them both, and then Eames was leaving a line of kisses on his exposed jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive skin near the top of his throat. Arthur found the sensation send all sorts of wonderful feelings shooting through him like lightning in his veins, and he tilted his head back, allowing Eames to attack his throat as well, scraping the tender skin with his teeth, leaving little red splotches atop the pale blush that had spread down across Arthur’s collarbone.
All the while he kept up the gentle, insisting grinding down below, and Arthur realized a moment later that he’d fisted both hands in Eames’ button-down shirt, trying to drag him closer even though they were already pressed together as tightly as they could be.
Eames pulled back from exploring Arthur’s throat with his tongue, and Arthur seized the opportunity to lean forward and capture Eames’ lips in an intense kiss that seemed to surprise him. Arthur drove forward, using his hand on Eames’ shirt to drag the other man in and darting his tongue into Eames’ mouth insistently, unrelentingly. Eames’ hands, which had been more or less pinned between them as they ground together, found their way up Arthur’s shirt again, and one of them pinched at one of his nipples, hard. The sensation of pain only added to Arthur’s arousal, and he made a noise against Eames’ mouth that Eames correctly interpreted as ‘do that again!’
Arthur’s cock was rock hard, now, and he could feel how damp his underwear was getting from the precum soaking into it. He continued to explore Eames’ mouth with his tongue, rutting up against him in a way that was instinctual and uncontrollable. He could hear little pants coming from Eames around the kiss, and from the was he was responding to Arthur’s rhythmic grinding, he was getting close as well.
There were footsteps, again, outside the closet, and Arthur glanced up, breaking the kiss and staring at the door. His breath was coming quick, and heavy, and there were little noises coming from Eames even though the other man was biting his lip in an effort to control himself. Luckily the shelves were well secured, or the motion of their rubbing would probably have set them to rattling, but even so Arthur wasn’t sure Eames was going to be able to keep quiet. At least he wasn’t saying anything.
Arthur put a hand over Eames’ mouth quickly, covering up his red, well-kissed lips, and blocked off the sounds he’d been making. Arthur bit his own lip, fighting back the urge to moan as they continued to rub together, the rhythmic, insistent motion driving both of them towards the edge. Eames met Arthur’s eyes, his hands still pinching at Arthur’s nipples, and there was something like amusement behind the dark lust visible in his gaze. Arthur frowned, annoyed, and pressed forward again, shoving Eames against the close opposite wall, driving him into the hard shelves and pressing him down, rubbing against him. The friction was driving Arthur mad, and he could feel Eames’ moans getting more insistent against his muffling hand. Outside, the footsteps were getting closer.
Arthur shoved his leg up between Eames’, the same gesture that this whole thing had begun with, only mirrored, and leaned down to bite down hard on the side of Eames’ neck to muffle his cry as his orgasm hit him and he thrust hard against the other man until the tremors of pleasure started to fade.
Eames was still grinding against him, making insistent, pleading noises against his hand, and Arthur reached down his free hand to slide it past the waistband of Eames’ jeans and find his cock. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Eames wasn’t wearing any underwear, but it made his job easier as he wrapped his hand around Eames’ dick and squeezed, pulling his hand up towards the head and slicking the downstroke with precum. Eames was moaning in earnest, now, his thrusting becoming more erratic, and he suddenly jerked forward, fingers biting into Arthur’s sides as he came in a hot, messy squirt into Arthur’s hands.
He continued to thrust for a few seconds as the orgasm faded, then relaxed against Arthur’s support, breathing hard but making an effort to keep silent. The footsteps were still nearby, but moving along as though whoever it was hadn’t heard anything worth investigating.
Eames was laughing, again, silent and breathless, and Arthur felt a kiss on his cheek. “I’m almost tempted to go out there and die so we can try this again, Darling.”
“Shut up.” Arthur growled, his face still pressed against Eames’ shoulder, feeling utterly humiliated but still riding the high of the recent orgasm. “I’m never speaking to you again.” He turned his face towards Eames’, breathing in the scent of him, warm and sweet. “Ever.”
“Well,” said Eames in an undertone, “Obviously not much talking really had to be done.”
Almost in time with his words, Arthur heard the familiar strains of music start to drift into his head from nowhere, and glanced up as the world started to fade as their time ran down.
Back in the warehouse, Arthur sat up quickly, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands, still breathing hard. He heard Eames sit up beside him, but didn’t turn to look. After a second, Dom’s voice said, “Well, you both survived. Good for you.”
Ariadne’s followed, eager, bright, “Did you guys like the upgrades? I thought you might be bored if it was the same old thing.”
Arthur didn’t look up, but he heard that irritating grin as Eames replied, “I think I’m going to have to buy you an ice cream or something, kid. They were delightful.”
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Arthur & Eames are trapped in a small space together (hiding from someone?), accidental stimulation leads to Eames getting handsy leads to Arthur losing that perfect control he always has leads to heavy making out/frottage/through-the-clothes groping
Dom had insisted on a ridiculous number of training exercises before he could declare them ready to go into Fischer’s head, and though Arthur could respect a devotion to being prepared, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy being paired up with Eames twice a week to fumble around in some maze trying to defeat whatever tricks had been added in this time. Then again, the last two times he’d attempted this particular scenario he’d gotten killed almost instantly, so he could understand Dom’s insistence that he give it another go.
Of course, Eames wouldn’t shut up about the fact that he’d made the same stupid mistake both times, bolting around a corner without checking to see if there was anything waiting for him and getting a face full of shotgun. It was infuriating, and even as Dom hit the button to send them both under, Arthur could see that stupid smirk out of the corner of his eye.
They came into the dream mid-step, in the same nondescript hall of a hospital they’d found themselves in every time. They’d already abandoned using this level of the dream in the actual job, deciding that there were just too many ways that trying to replicate the actual hospital Maurice Fischer was dying in could go wrong. But, Ariadne had spent nearly a week building the maze, so her work was at least being put to good use for their training exercises.
It was a simple enough objective. They were supposed to avoid the projections (Eames’, in this case,) using whatever they could. Dom had spouted something about it helping them hone ingenuity and teamwork, which would be important on the job, though Arthur couldn’t help but wonder whether his repeated pairing of Arthur with Eames was some foolish attempt to make them bond and stop arguing.
Arthur seriously doubted any power in the world, even the threat of temporary death, was going to be able to make Eames any less of an insolent bastard. Even if he was good at what he did.
Arthur hoisted the large, automatic rifle he was armed with onto his shoulder, and shot Eames a glance over his shoulder before striding off down the hall in a direction he knew from experience would take him towards a small knot of projections. They were both dressed casually, completely innocuous aside from the weapons, but the maze had been tweaked in such a way that the projections would be after them as soon as they were spotted, so Arthur didn’t bother to try stealth. Originally, of course, the level had been straightforward enough that they could avoid detection, but for the purpose of the exercise, Ariadne had added in a few hallways with recursively looping doors and examination rooms that were bigger on the inside than the out.
Eames’ footsteps behind him and to the right were solid. They didn’t need to speak at this point. They’d crossed the first hurdle, getting past a group of angry orderlies inexplicably armed with World-War-II-era revolvers, easily in their last two tries, and it wouldn’t be hard this time.
Only, they hadn’t banked on there being three times as many projections waiting around the corner on this run through, or on one of them holding a grenade.
Eames yanked him back by the arm just as the projections started firing wildly, and they both broke into a sprint back in the opposite direction, diving behind the nurses station in a graceless tangle of limbs just as they heard the grenade clatter after them. Arthur ducked down, covering his head with one arm, and the instant before it exploded he found that Eames had come up onto his knees to put himself between Arthur and the hallway where the blast would be coming from. Arthur didn’t have time to shout at him to put his idiot head down before the grenade blew, sending chunks of plaster raining down onto the counter above them and setting off the fire alarms.
“That girl sure knows how to spice up a party.” Eames said, and Arthur could tell by his voice that he was grinning like a fool. Scowling, Arthur struggled to his feet, peering cautiously through the thin fog of dust towards the hall. The projections had probably been caught in their own blast, he reasoned, and he glanced down.
“They’re your subconscious. How do you know you’re not the one who gave them bombs?” he pointed out, offering Eames a hand to help him up. Eames dragged himself up, and shifted his grip on his own gun with a casual shrug. Arthur rolled his eyes, “Come on. Back this way, we might be able to find cover and pick them off as they come after us.”
They rounded a corner, heading down a different hall that made a sharp right turn a little ways ahead. Almost at once, another group of projections appeared around the corner. The one in the lead shouted, and they broke into a run, brandishing what looked like metal pipes and large chunks of broken concrete.
Arthur swung his gun up and fired, sending the first few projections to the ground in a spray of bullets, but Eames grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back, “Come on, Darling, there’s too many that way. We need to hide.”
“We could take them!” Arthur protested, but this time it was Eames turn to roll his eyes, and as Arthur saw the projections shove their fallen comrades aside and resume their charge, he turned and followed Eames down a side-corridor. This one was more dimly lit, and Arthur nearly ran into Eames when he stopped halfway down to yank open a door marked ‘storage.’
“What are you doing?” Arthur demanded, but Eames only ducked inside and dragged Arthur after him, slamming the door shut as soon and locking it as they were inside. The space was cramped, with shelves of cleaning supplies all around that forced them to stand with their faces mere inches from each others. Arthur tried to scoot back, to give Eames as much space as he could, but there was a shelve shoved into the small of his back that made it impossible to get any further away. He sighed, heavily, the scent of chemical cleaners filling his nose. “What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?”
“They won’t look for us in here,” Eames said with more confidence than Arthur felt. Eames was taller than Arthur, but not by much, and their faces were almost on the level. Arthur frowned, turning to look at the door.
“Won’t be much protection against a grenade.”
“You worry too much, Arthur.” Eames said-Well, purred, really, and Arthur shot him an annoyed look. As he turned, he felt Eames lean into him, and one of Eames’ legs slipped between Arthur’s, pressing his thigh against his.
Arthur jumped, jamming the shelf into his back again and bit back the urge to yelp in surprise. Instead, he shoved Eames as hard as he could in the confined space. It didn’t do much good, as Eames also had his back pressed against a shelf, but Arthur hissed, “Get off.”
“Maybe I should,” Eames said, and Arthur growled in frustration, squirming a little to try and find some more space. He only ended up straddling Eames’ leg, rubbing up against him in a way that would have been completely inappropriate in all other contexts. Eames chuckled, and Arthur wanted to punch him, “A little eager, are we, Darling?”
Suddenly there were hands at the hem of the t-shirt Arthur was wearing, and he felt Eames slip a few fingers up against his skin, against his hip. He went still with shock for a second, then started struggling for the door. Eames had brought his knee up, however, and Arthur found all at once that he was pinned, with Eames’ solid limbs between him and the only exit. The hand on his hip started to inch higher, “Better keep quiet, or they’ll realize we’re here and kill us, and then we’ll have to start this whole thing all over again.”
“Stop it.” Arthur didn’t let the words sound like a plea, but even in the dim light he was pretty sure Eames could see that his face was flushed. He rarely got flustered, but when he did he blushed uncontrollably. It was part of the reason he kept such a tight rein on his emotions. If he didn’t, they’d be written all over his face.
In the tight space, he didn’t have much room to maneuver, but he brought his hands up to press against Eames’ chest, “I mean it.”
“Shh,” Eames said, leaning in close to murmur into Arthur’s ear, “I hear them coming.”
Arthur could make out the footsteps too, and even though they both were holding their breath, Eames’ hands were still, maddeningly, tracing little circles on Arthur’s stomach, up his ribs. Arthur bit his lip, hard, to keep a giggle from escaping. Even if silence wasn’t the key to keeping the projections from finding him, he wasn’t going to give Eames the knowledge that he was ticklish.
The footsteps outside slowed, and then stopped, and Arthur could hear voices, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He tried to bat away Eames’ distracting hands, but Eames was stronger than he was and it only made Eames’ chest rumble with a silent laugh.
The projections started to move away again, and Arthur let out the breath he had been holding in a rush, wriggling a little as he tried to squeeze away from Eames’ attack. Those hands were still tracing up and down his ribs, and he let out a breathless little yelp, trying to fight back the wave of ticklish giggles that were trying to fight out of his throat. He was flushed and bothered, but all his squirming was rubbing him up against Eames’ leg, and he realized with a jolt of horror that he was started to feel aroused, as well.
“Stop that r-right now!” he said, without the force he’d hoped for, and Eames laughed again, one of his hands sweeping across to brush Arthur’s nipple. It sent a little jolt through him, and Arthur heard a noise come out of his throat that he’d had absolutely no say in creating. His cheeks were burning, his breath coming faster, and he was sure Eames could feel the frantic pace of his heart. But, as he tried to twist towards the door again, Eames leaned down and rubbed his thigh right up against Arthur’s crotch, distracting him thoroughly with a shock of pleasure that made his cock start to swell in earnest. “Fucking-Eames-!“
“Not enough room for that, I’m afraid,” Eames was grinning in earnest, now, and leaned forward to nip at Arthur earlobe, “We’ll just have to pass the time until we wake up in some other way. We can tell Cobb that we were victorious, and we can finally move on to something else.”
Arthur didn’t respond. The pressure of Eames’ leg against him was all he could really concentrate on, though the hands roaming up and down his body were certainly causing their own distractions, and he tried to gather his thoughts enough to tell Eames that he’d rather face the projections, thanks. But he found himself rubbing up against the other man in earnest, and though he was still shoving half-heartedly in an attempt to get Eames off him, it was without the real vehemence he’d had before. There was a need started to grow, an earnest desire for Eames to keep touching him. Not the light, fleeting touches, but to reach down and grab his dick and make him cum-
Arthur tried to drive the thoughts out of his head, trying to remind himself that he didn’t like Eames. But, his body was responding to Eames’ hand, to Eames’ touch, and Arthur didn’t have the wherewithal to argue as Eames slid a hand down and palmed the front of Arthur’s jeans, squeezing a little through the fabric.
Eames kept smiling that infuriating grin, then shifted a little so he was pressed, chest-to-chest against Arthur’s body. He started to gently grind his crotch against Arthur’s, and Arthur could feel his erection even through his jeans. Arthur squeezed his eyes closed, panting a little bit, and turned his head to the side. He felt Eames’ laugh as a gentle vibration the shook them both, and then Eames was leaving a line of kisses on his exposed jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive skin near the top of his throat. Arthur found the sensation send all sorts of wonderful feelings shooting through him like lightning in his veins, and he tilted his head back, allowing Eames to attack his throat as well, scraping the tender skin with his teeth, leaving little red splotches atop the pale blush that had spread down across Arthur’s collarbone.
All the while he kept up the gentle, insisting grinding down below, and Arthur realized a moment later that he’d fisted both hands in Eames’ button-down shirt, trying to drag him closer even though they were already pressed together as tightly as they could be.
Eames pulled back from exploring Arthur’s throat with his tongue, and Arthur seized the opportunity to lean forward and capture Eames’ lips in an intense kiss that seemed to surprise him. Arthur drove forward, using his hand on Eames’ shirt to drag the other man in and darting his tongue into Eames’ mouth insistently, unrelentingly. Eames’ hands, which had been more or less pinned between them as they ground together, found their way up Arthur’s shirt again, and one of them pinched at one of his nipples, hard. The sensation of pain only added to Arthur’s arousal, and he made a noise against Eames’ mouth that Eames correctly interpreted as ‘do that again!’
Arthur’s cock was rock hard, now, and he could feel how damp his underwear was getting from the precum soaking into it. He continued to explore Eames’ mouth with his tongue, rutting up against him in a way that was instinctual and uncontrollable. He could hear little pants coming from Eames around the kiss, and from the was he was responding to Arthur’s rhythmic grinding, he was getting close as well.
There were footsteps, again, outside the closet, and Arthur glanced up, breaking the kiss and staring at the door. His breath was coming quick, and heavy, and there were little noises coming from Eames even though the other man was biting his lip in an effort to control himself. Luckily the shelves were well secured, or the motion of their rubbing would probably have set them to rattling, but even so Arthur wasn’t sure Eames was going to be able to keep quiet. At least he wasn’t saying anything.
Arthur put a hand over Eames’ mouth quickly, covering up his red, well-kissed lips, and blocked off the sounds he’d been making. Arthur bit his own lip, fighting back the urge to moan as they continued to rub together, the rhythmic, insistent motion driving both of them towards the edge. Eames met Arthur’s eyes, his hands still pinching at Arthur’s nipples, and there was something like amusement behind the dark lust visible in his gaze. Arthur frowned, annoyed, and pressed forward again, shoving Eames against the close opposite wall, driving him into the hard shelves and pressing him down, rubbing against him. The friction was driving Arthur mad, and he could feel Eames’ moans getting more insistent against his muffling hand. Outside, the footsteps were getting closer.
Arthur shoved his leg up between Eames’, the same gesture that this whole thing had begun with, only mirrored, and leaned down to bite down hard on the side of Eames’ neck to muffle his cry as his orgasm hit him and he thrust hard against the other man until the tremors of pleasure started to fade.
Eames was still grinding against him, making insistent, pleading noises against his hand, and Arthur reached down his free hand to slide it past the waistband of Eames’ jeans and find his cock. Somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Eames wasn’t wearing any underwear, but it made his job easier as he wrapped his hand around Eames’ dick and squeezed, pulling his hand up towards the head and slicking the downstroke with precum. Eames was moaning in earnest, now, his thrusting becoming more erratic, and he suddenly jerked forward, fingers biting into Arthur’s sides as he came in a hot, messy squirt into Arthur’s hands.
He continued to thrust for a few seconds as the orgasm faded, then relaxed against Arthur’s support, breathing hard but making an effort to keep silent. The footsteps were still nearby, but moving along as though whoever it was hadn’t heard anything worth investigating.
Eames was laughing, again, silent and breathless, and Arthur felt a kiss on his cheek. “I’m almost tempted to go out there and die so we can try this again, Darling.”
“Shut up.” Arthur growled, his face still pressed against Eames’ shoulder, feeling utterly humiliated but still riding the high of the recent orgasm. “I’m never speaking to you again.” He turned his face towards Eames’, breathing in the scent of him, warm and sweet. “Ever.”
“Well,” said Eames in an undertone, “Obviously not much talking really had to be done.”
Almost in time with his words, Arthur heard the familiar strains of music start to drift into his head from nowhere, and glanced up as the world started to fade as their time ran down.
Back in the warehouse, Arthur sat up quickly, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands, still breathing hard. He heard Eames sit up beside him, but didn’t turn to look. After a second, Dom’s voice said, “Well, you both survived. Good for you.”
Ariadne’s followed, eager, bright, “Did you guys like the upgrades? I thought you might be bored if it was the same old thing.”
Arthur didn’t look up, but he heard that irritating grin as Eames replied, “I think I’m going to have to buy you an ice cream or something, kid. They were delightful.”