Fic: (Inception) Birthday Boy (1/2)
Title: Birthday Boy
Characters: Arthur/Eames, Dom Cobb, Mal Cobb, Ariadne, Yusuf, Phillipa, James, OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: jailbait!Arthur, Lolita!Arthur, age difference, not-actually-incest taboo, corny home improvement jokes, overuse of convenient plot devices, schmoop, angst, barebacking, and size kink. Yeah. Maybe that covers it.
Disclaimer: So not mine.
So it begins like this:
Arthur is Mal's cousin. She and Dom became his legal guardians when he was fifteen because his parents died on a business trip and no one else wanted to take in an angry, lonely teenage boy. Fast forward two years, and Arthur's still an angry, lonely teenage boy. Except now, Dom and Mal know he's gay...and they're worried about him. Enter Eames, Dom's best friend and honorary “uncle” to Dom and Mal's kids.
“I think this is a good idea, Mal,” Arthur heard Dom say quietly. He was unashamedly listening at their bedroom door, trying to find out how they were going to punish him for today.
“Dom, boys experiment. I think you're overreacting. He's seventeen,” Mal replied in a soothing voice.
He heard some shifting and pacing close to the door, so he shrank back into the shadows of the dark hallway until Dom spoke again. “This isn't experimenting, though!”
Arthur heard Mal snort. “And how would you know?” she asked.
Dom huffed, loud and frustrated. “Look, it doesn't bother me that Arthur's gay, you know that. It's just that he could get really hurt.”
Arthur's brow furrowed as he scoffed at Dom's concern. Whatever, he thought. Dom doesn't know shit about being gay.
“Yes, but part of being a teenager is getting hurt. Heartbreak is only natural,” Mal replied.
Dom's voice was louder now. “That's just it, it's not about getting his heart broken. It's about his physical safety. I mean, I was there when Eames came out. He was only fifteen, and the things he went through...I'd never want Arthur to go through that.”
“Like what?” Mal asked quietly.
Dom growled angrily, though Arthur could tell it wasn't aimed at Mal. “Like this one time - his first time at a gay club - some old guy picked him up. He never really told me what happened, but he came to my house after. He was drunk and crying, and I don't know what went on, but I do know that the guy hurt him. He was real quiet for a few weeks after that. After that, it was just a string of worthless assholes using him for sex and dumping him when they were through. He was an easy target, especially after he got into the club drugs.”
The room was silent for a brief period of time. Finally, Mal sighed sadly. “Poor Eames.”
“I don't want anything like that to happen to Arthur. He's already been through enough,” Dom pleaded. “Please let me handle this.”
“What did you have in mind?” Mal asked.
Arthur pressed closer to the door, afraid they would send him away.
“I'm going to call Eames. Arthur's almost out of school for the summer. I can set something up,” Dom replied. His voice was closer to the door now, and Arthur was forced to dive toward the bathroom in order to avoid getting caught eavesdropping.
Dom opened their bedroom door and stopped short when he saw Arthur furtively brushing his teeth. Arthur peered at him from the corner of his eyes and saw Dom's pinched expression. He spit a foamy mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and prayed that Dom would just leave without saying anything.
No such luck.
“Hey, so, uh... a week of school left,” he began. Arthur nodded and kept brushing his teeth so he wouldn't have to respond. “You're grounded until summer vacation starts,” Dom finished.
Arthur's eyes went wide and he almost choked on minty spit. “What? But--”
Dom held up his hand to cut him off. “Look, I remember what it's like to be your age, but I'm also responsible for you and that means that I have to look out for your best interests. Fooling around with guys in your bedroom isn't a good idea.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and spat into the sink. He threw his toothbrush into the medicine cabinet and grumbled. “You make it sound like I was fucking the whole football team!”
Dom scrubbed a hand over his face. “What if James of Phillipa had walked in on you instead of Mal? Did you ever think of that?”
Arthur immediately felt ashamed. He'd never thought of that. “It was just one guy...” He flinched, completely aware of how weak his response was.
Dom frowned and looked away. “Just...you're grounded until the end of school. It's only a week. We're not mad at you, Arthur, we just need to look out for you and your best interests.” With that, Dom walked into the living room and turned on the TV.
Arthur fumed for the rest of the week, especially when he had to tell Robby he couldn't meet him. Robby just shrugged and Arthur tried not to throw up when he saw him driving off with Nash the very next day.
Obviously Arthur needed to find less of a selfish bastard to fuck around with.
Despite being grounded for the last week of school, Dom and Mal didn't treat him like a prisoner. He was allowed to go to the library and the gym, and they didn't get mad whenever Ariadne came over to hang out. The only thing he wasn't allowed to do was talk to Robby.
Not that he minded. Much.
In the beginning...
The weekend after school got out, “Uncle” Eames showed up. He wasn't actually anyone's uncle, at least not as far as Arthur knew. Dom and Eames had been friends since middle school, and he was James and Phillipa's godfather. He only lived a few hours away, but he was a busy guy so he rarely came for visits. Arthur usually only saw him two or three times per year, on family holidays. Arthur looked forward to every visit, but not out of any sort of familial love.
No, Arthur looked forward to seeing Eames because Eames was the reason Arthur had realized he was gay in the first place. He'd been nursing a painful crush on the older man for the past two years, and every time he came for a visit, Arthur fervently wished that Eames would look at him and see him in the same way.
Unfortunately, it still didn't look like Eames wanted to jump Arthur. This pissed him off, because he spent hours every week at the gym trying to force his gangly body into something more attractive. He knew Eames's type. He'd brought a boyfriend over last Christmas, much to Arthur's dismay (read: intense jealousy). Espen was Norwegian, tall and graceful. He had a lean, muscular body and a pretty face. He dressed immaculately and held himself aloof from the rest of the people at the Christmas party.
Arthur kind of hated him on sight, but he really hated the way he talked to Eames when he thought nobody else could hear. Eames didn't deserve that kind of bullshit, and Arthur was overjoyed when Dom mentioned their eventual break up.
Right now, Eames was seated at the kitchen table while Mal bustled around preparing dinner. Arthur was slumped on the couch in the living room, worried about whatever Dom's silly little plan entailed. Dom wouldn't be home from work for another half hour, so Arthur would just have to wait an eternity to find out what his punishment would be.
When Dom finally got home, they sat down at the table to eat. Arthur fidgeted uncomfortably, watching the furtive glances passing between Mal and Dom. Mal looked like she wanted to say something, but Dom kept up a running commentary with Phillipa until everyone cleaned their plate.
After dessert, Dom excused himself and Eames to his study and shut the door. Arthur slipped away while Mal was busy cleaning up the kids. He sneaked down the hallway to listen at the door. Eames's smooth accent was muffled slightly, but his words were clear enough.
Inside the study...
“I don't know, Dom. I'm no role model,” Eames said doubtfully.
Dom pinched the bridge of his nose and stood up. “He's still a kid, Eames. You're older and wiser, and you could teach him a lot. I don't want to see him get hurt like...” Dom trailed off uncomfortably.
“Like I did.” Eames finished for him. Dom dropped his hand and shot Eames a pleading look. Eames shifted in his chair and broke eye contact while he considered Dom's harebrained scheme. “He's going to hate this,” he said finally.
Dom hid his relieved grin. “Maybe, but it'll be a thousand times better for him than hanging out with that spoiled little dickhead Robert Fischer.”
Out in the hallway, Arthur's eyes went wide. He'd had no idea that Dom knew who Robby was.
Eames sputtered. “He's hanging out with Maurice's kid?”
Dom scowled. “Yeah. Mal caught them fooling around. That kid is nothing but trouble. I don't want him around my boy.”
Eames laughed at Dom's words, even as he admired just how devoted Dom was to raising Arthur like one of his own kids. “Careful there, old man. You're one step away from greeting his boyfriends with a shotgun.”
Dom's shoulders relaxed a bit and he chuckled. “Yeah well, it'll be good practice. Phillipa's growing up fast.”
Eames crossed his legs and stroked his chin in consideration. “Back on topic. I don't know if he should come stay with me. I'm trying to find some help for renovations. I'm taking the next few months off work to fix up the house I just bought.”
Dom's eyes lit up. “But that's perfect! Arthur can help you. That way, you won't have to pay anyone.”
Eames snorted. “Arthur? Last I saw, he didn't weigh more than eight stone soaking wet. Does he even know how to use a hammer?”
Outside the study, Arthur's heart broke a little bit at the dismissive tone in Eames's voice. Sure, he wasn't covered in bulky muscle like Eames, but he wasn't some little wimp.
Arthur didn't want to hear anything more, so he disappeared down the hall into his bedroom to brood.
The next morning, Dom broached the subject of Arthur staying with Eames. Arthur refused to look at Eames until Eames spoke to him directly. “So, what d'you say? Want to come help me around the house? I'll pay you, of course.”
Arthur chewed on his bottom lip and shifted in his seat. Yeah, he wanted to hang out with Eames. The idea of living with the subject of 99.5% of his spank bank fantasies sounded like a dream come true to a horny seventeen year old.
Unfortunately, he was afraid Eames would think he was useless when it came to manual labor. Arthur's ears turned bright red at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Eames.
Since Arthur was seventeen and horny, as mentioned before, it was really no contest. “Um, sure, I guess.”
Two weeks later...
Arthur had a plan.
Three weeks later...
“Arthur? What are you doing?” Eames asked, looking slightly bewildered.
Arthur jumped slightly and turned to see Eames standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking deliciously rumpled and sleepy. He realized the pan of bacon was smoking a moment after Eames did. Before he could react, Eames was already there with the lid to smother it.
Once Eames had the pan in the sink, Arthur shyly tried to hide what he'd been doing. He ended up knocking over the half-full pitcher of orange juice he'd just spent a long time squeezing. This resulted in broken glass and juice all over the floor. “Fuck!” Arthur exclaimed as he tried to avoid the glass with his bare feet.
“Ah! Don't move, I've got it,” Eames said. Arthur was forced to stand completely still while Eames knelt at his feet, cleaning up his mess.
After it was safe to move out of the way, Arthur tried to make a hasty retreat. Eames called him back. “Not so fast! What were you up to?” he asked curiously.
He didn't look mad, but Arthur still felt embarrassed anyway. He shifted from one foot to the other and tried to look anywhere but at the man he was clumsily trying to seduce. “Uhh...I, um, was making you...shit! I mean, I was making breakfast...I guess,” he mumbled awkwardly. His cheeks were flaming. Since he was also shirtless (all part of the seduction plan, dammit!), he could see the red and white blotches that showed up whenever he was really mortified...like right now.
Eames quirked an eyebrow and smiled at him. “Ah, I see.”
Arthur kind of wanted to die.
Two days later...
Arthur tried not to drool when Eames stripped off his t-shirt and threw it across the room. A hot breeze blew through the open window, barely lifting the curtains. Arthur swallowed, only to find that his throat was dry. Eames caught him staring and winked at him. “Bit hot today, innit?” he said.
Arthur nodded weakly. Though Eames was shirtless, Arthur decided to keep his on to avoid any pitying looks from the totally built guy beside him. Sweat caused the shirt to cling to his slender frame anyway.
He turned back to rolling the light green paint onto the wall. Right now, most of the room was still an ugly shade of brown. They'd already finished painting the bathroom connected to the master suite, and Arthur's arms were killing him. He hadn't been to the gym in almost a month, so his muscles were easily fatigued. He kept pushing himself anyway.
It was difficult to keep his eyes from wandering toward Eames. He watched the movement of muscle in his arms and upper back. He had a swimmer's back. He also had tattoos everywhere and his chest had a light dusting of hair. Arthur's hungry gaze followed the thin trail of hair down to his pants. He'd give anything to see the rest of Eames's body, but he was beginning to lose hope that he'd ever get the chance.
“Water?” Eames asked, ripping Arthur from his reverie.
“Oh, yeah, please,” Arthur stuttered. He realized he was half-hard from his forbidden thoughts, but thankfully his shirt was long enough to hide the evidence. He cleared his throat and wiped his forearm across his forehead to remove the sweat gathered at his hairline.
When Eames returned with two bottles of cold water, he laughed. Arthur flinched his hand away from accepting the water. “What?” he snapped self-consciously.
Eames reached up and brushed his thumb across Arthur's forehead. “You've got a bit of paint here,” he replied, still amused.
Arthur swallowed hard at the sensation of Eames's callused thumb. It sent a zing of nerves and pleasure running up his spine, but he fought to keep his face neutral. “Oh, thanks,” he said. His voice was shaky, but Eames didn't appear to notice.
“No problem, love,” Eames said absently as he swiftly looked away.
Arthur frowned.
Six days later...
“Where are you going?” Arthur asked.
Eames stopped and looked at Arthur in surprise. “What are you doing up?” he asked.
Arthur shrugged. “Couldn't sleep. Are you going to the gym?” he asked hopefully.
Eames nodded. “Why, did you want to come with me?” he asked.
Arthur jumped off the couch and headed for the stairs. “Hell yeah! Lemme just grab my stuff.” He shot up the stairs and quickly changed into his work out clothes. He stuffed a clean towel and a change of clothes into his neglected gym bag and hurried back down the stairs.
Eames was waiting patiently for him at the door. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Arthur replied.
The gym was nicer than the one Arthur usually went to. He was honestly a bit intimidated when he walked in behind Eames. Unlike the dank little family-friendly YMCA, this gym apparently catered to hot guys, because he couldn't see one woman on the floor. Sweaty muscles gleamed under the bright lights as guys in tight tank tops and shorts ran on the treadmills, lifted weights, or did floor exercises. Arthur had to stop himself from staring at the guys using the weights before Eames caught him.
Arthur may or may not have a thing for guys with lots of muscle.
After Eames got him a visitor's pass, they dropped their stuff off in the locker room and went back out onto the main floor. “What do you usually do at the gym?” Eames asked.
Arthur looked around, trying to decide. “Um, I usually run on the treadmill.”
Eames nodded and patted his shoulder. “Right then. I'll be in the back on the weights if you need me,” he said.
Arthur made his way to an empty treadmill and quickly resolved not to think about Eames lifting weights. He didn't have much room to hide his unruly boner this time.
Once he figured out the stupidly expensive treadmill, he popped in his earbuds and settled into a comfortable run. There were mirrors on every wall, but Arthur chose to stare blankly at the bank of television screens playing various news channels instead.
After awhile, he got bored and started looking around. He was trying to decide between the rowing machine and some other machine he'd never seen before when a guy approached him with a friendly smile.
Whoever he was, he was definitely hot. When he got to the treadmill, he said something that Arthur couldn't hear over his music. Confused, he removed his earbuds and looked at the man politely. “Yes?” he said.
The guy laughed. “You're new here.” It was a statement, not a question.
Arthur answered anyway. “Yeah.”
Seeing that the guy wasn't going to leave anytime soon, Arthur slowed the speed of the treadmill to a walk. The man held out his hand for a shake. “I'm Tom, a trainer here,” he explained.
Arthur relaxed a bit and shook his hand. “I'm Arthur.”
“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” Tom said with a smile. He had perfectly straight white teeth that looked entirely fake, but Arthur smiled back at him anyway.
“Anyway, new clients get a free training session. We'll go over your fitness goals and create a plan that works for you. Does that interest you?” Tom asked.
Arthur scratched the back of his neck and tried to look for Eames without being too obvious. There was something slightly predatory about this guy, and Arthur's instincts were telling him to retreat. “Umm...” he stalled.
“Hey there, mate,” he heard a familiar voice say. Arthur's shoulders instantly relaxed as Eames appeared beside him. He watched Tom's smile dim a bit, but he didn't back down right away. “Tom, right?” Eames asked.
Tom nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable now. “And you are?”
Eames grinned, but it wasn't his normal smile. It looked more like a warning. “I'm Eames. You finished here, Arthur?”
Arthur's eyes were as wide as saucers now. “Um, yeah...” he replied.
Eames kept his eyes glued to Tom as he reached out and put a heavy, sweat-sticky arm around his shoulders. “Great. Let's go have some breakfast, yeah?”
“Okay,” Arthur said.
Tom looked a bit constipated now. His expression was pinched and his eyes were getting shifty. Eames's hand tightened on Arthur's shoulder before it stroked down his bicep. Arthur had to bite his lip to stop the shiver of awareness that shot across all his nerve endings.
“Nice to meet you, Tom,” Eames said with a dismissive nod.
Tom disappeared like he'd never been there in the first place.
Eames finally turned to look at Arthur. “So, breakfast?” he said as if nothing had just happened. Arthur nodded mutely and followed him to the locker room.
The car ride to the diner was filled with awkward silence.
After they placed their orders, Eames grumbled and scrubbed a hand over his stubble. Arthur wondered what his problem was.
“Listen...” he started.
Arthur cut him off. “If you're planning on giving me a lecture, you can save it,” he said spitefully.
Eames looked taken aback. “Hey, Dom's depending on me to look out for you here. I take that pretty seriously,” he said.
Arthur deflated a bit. “Whatever,” he said. He ignored the fact that he sounded like a sullen child.
Eames tried again. “That Tom guy is bad news.”
Arthur was curious now. “How so?”
Eames looked uncomfortable. “Well, he has a reputation,” he answered vaguely.
“...And?” Arthur prompted.
He sighed and leaned back against the booth. “So you're just a kid. This guy doesn't care. He's too old for you anyway,” Eames said wearily.
Arthur's spine stiffened. “He's what, maybe thirty? He can't be any older than you. Besides, I happen to like older men,” he replied angrily.
Eames wouldn't look at him now. “Yeah, well, older guys are bad news. They'll fuck with you and that's exactly why Dom sent you to me. He wants to keep you from making the same mistakes I did when I was your age.”
Arthur was still smarting from being called “just a kid.” “So what? I can handle myself. It's not like I'm a virgin or anything,” he lied.
Eames looked pained now. “Regardless, I don't think you really know what it's like out there,” he pushed.
Just then, the waitress returned with their food and stuck around to chat. She obviously wasn't good at reading body language, because neither of them was really in the mood for small talk right now.
After she left, they ate in uncomfortable silence.
That night...
Did Eames really think Arthur couldn't hear him sneak out of the house? He wasn't stupid.
Still, he listened silently as Eames showered, dressed, and quietly left the house after he thought Arthur was snug in his bed like a good little boy.
Arthur glared at the wall opposite his bed as he waited for the car's headlights to disappear. Defiantly, he got up and went into the master suite. It was completely finished now and Eames had moved his stuff in a few days ago. A huge bed with rumpled sheets dominated the bedroom. Clothes hid the brown leather wing-back chair in the corner. The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly in the otherwise dim bedroom, but the lights were bright in the en suite bathroom. Arthur smiled unwillingly at Eames's inability to shut off lights when he left a room.
The bathroom mirror was still cloudy from his shower. The scent of Eames's cologne clung to the steam that lingered. Arthur inhaled deeply and wished he could have been in the shower with him, but it was painfully clear after their “talk” this morning that Eames still saw him as a kid.
Arthur frowned and tripped over the wet towel on the floor. Stupid jerk couldn't even pick up after himself. Out of habit, he bent and picked it up and slung it over the towel rack. Eames probably wouldn't even notice, not that Arthur cared. He was just a kid, after all.
One of the things Arthur liked so much about Eames was his smell. Unlike American colognes that always tried for fresh, clean scents, Eames's scent was far warmer...earthier, musky. Arthur could breathe him in all day and never get tired of it.
After straightening up the bathroom, Arthur returned to the bedroom and sat on the unmade bed. The drawer on the bedside table was open slightly. His curiosity got the best of him, so he decided to snoop. He opened the drawer all the way and felt his chest tighten with jealousy when he saw the bottle of lube and the assortment of condoms. He imagined Eames bringing guys back here, using this lube and these condoms.
Fucking them into the mattress while they screamed his name.
Arthur's sudden erection tented his flannel pajama bottoms. Feeling like an idiot, knowing this was a horrible idea, he grabbed the bottle of lube and collapsed back against the pillows. Casting a quick look at the empty doorway, he pushed down his pants just enough to release his cock. After dribbling some lube into the palm of his hand, he turned and buried his face in the pillow under his head.
He took deep breaths as he slowly jacked himself off, imagining it was Eames's hand on his cock. This was his lube, his bed, his smell surrounding Arthur. He didn't know how long Eames would be gone, but it didn't matter. Arthur was too lost in his fantasy of being allowed, being welcome in this bed.
In his head, Eames returned home to find Arthur spread out and ready for him. He wouldn't patronize Arthur or dismiss him. He would be too turned on by the sight before him to reject Arthur.
He'd strip, peeling away each article of clothing until he was naked and hard, just for Arthur. Then he'd climb on the bed and take the lube and work Arthur's hole open finger by finger until Arthur was ready for his huge cock. That first push...
Arthur cursed out loud as he came, making a complete mess on himself. He swore again when he saw some of his come on the sheets as well.
He quickly cleaned himself up with tissues from the box next to the bed and stripped the sheets off the bed. There was no way he could leave come stains on the sheets without Eames noticing.
He hurried downstairs to the laundry room and shoved the sheets inside the washer. He really hoped Eames would be gone for awhile, because he had no idea where the clean sheets were. Maybe Eames didn't even have a spare set.
Arthur paced anxiously as he waited for the washing cycle to finish. He'd have to come up with a pretty creative excuse if Eames came home now.
Luck apparently didn't favor Arthur tonight, because the sheets were literally minutes away from being dry when he heard Eames's car pulling into the driveway. He growled under his breath and tugged at his hair in frustration. “Fucking great,” he cursed.
Eames came through the back door that led directly into the kitchen. Both he and Arthur froze when they saw each other. “Um, err...” Arthur mumbled.
“What are you doing up?” Eames asked. He looked freshly fucked. His collar was open, revealing a dark bite mark on his collarbone.
Arthur felt like throwing up.
“Uh, I couldn't sleep,” he lied. Or maybe it was the truth, since he wouldn't have been able to sleep until the sheets were back on Eames's bed.
Just then, the dryer buzzed and Eames's eyebrows lifted. “Doing laundry?” he asked.
Arthur sighed and gave him the best excuse he could think of. “Well, uhh, I couldn't sleep...so I thought I'd clean. I guess.” It sounded lame, even to Arthur. Eames didn't say anything, though, so Arthur retreated to the laundry room and pulled the sheets from the dryer. He hoped Eames would be distracted, maybe stay downstairs to watch some television so Arthur could remake the bed without him noticing.
No such luck.
“Are those...my sheets?” Eames asked in confusion.
Arthur could feel the blotches forming on his neck and chest. Today just wasn't going his way. “Errm, yeah. I was cleaning. I washed mine, too,” he lied.
Eames looked suspicious, and there was a tense moment of silence before he shrugged and held his arms out for the sheets. “Right. Well, thanks then. I'll see you in the morning,” he said as he took the sheets from Arthur and went upstairs.
Arthur wished that a hole would open up and swallow him.
Three days later...
He set his alarm to go off a good half hour before Eames usually woke up. Ever since the first (and only) time he'd taken Arthur to the gym, he'd been reluctant and evasive about taking him back.
Arthur was determined to press the issue today. He got up and silently dressed for the gym. After that, he went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal while he waited for Eames to get up.
He finally heard Eames coming down the stairs. He braced himself for an argument, but he wasn't prepared for the look of mingled guilt and surprise on Eames's face when he saw Arthur waiting for him. “Er, good morning,” he said.
“Morning,” Arthur replied coolly. Two could play this game.
Eames dropped his gym bag as if he could hide it and walked into the kitchen. “Cereal?” Arthur offered.
“Sure...thanks,” Eames said as he awkwardly took the box and sat at the table with a bowl. Arthur got up and got the milk for him.
He waited until Eames had a bite in his mouth. “So, I'd like to go to the gym with you today,” he said.
Eames choked a little. “Um, I don't think that's such a good idea...” he said tightly and started to cough.
Arthur thumped him heartily on the back a few times. “Why not?” he pressed.
Eames made a pained face. “Because,” he hedged.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that's a legit answer,” he said sarcastically.
Eames stood up and dumped the rest of his cereal in the sink. “Arthur, that gym isn't just a place for working out,” he said awkwardly.
“Uh huh,” he said.
“Guys go there to...well, to hook up sometimes,” he finished. He looked as uncomfortable as Arthur felt.
Arthur tried to play it cool. “Yeah, I gathered that after Tom the Trainer tried to pick me up,” he replied. “Obviously, he wasn't successful. So...will you let me go with you? Please?”
Eames looked like he'd rather be in a pit of scorpions at this point. Arthur watched him grapple with a way to refuse without looking like a dick, but apparently nothing came to mind. He felt a surge of triumph when Eames sighed reluctantly and said, “Fine. Let's go.”
Arthur hid his smile as he went to pick up his bag. He followed a very silent and obviously irritated Eames to the car.
The gym was busier today than the last time, and Eames looked reluctant to leave Arthur alone. He watched guys check Eames out as they left the locker room, but Eames was apparently busy glaring at the entire world, so Arthur ignored him.
“So, the treadmills?” Eames asked without looking at him.
Arthur frowned. “Eames, seriously. Just go work out. I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, I don't need a fucking babysitter.”
Eames's lush mouth pinched shut. “I promised Dom --”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You act like I'm some defenseless little twink,” he complained.
“That's exactly what you look like,” Eames replied angrily.
“Psh, I know kung fu.” Arthur smirked.
Eames's anger deflated and he grinned at Arthur as he gave him a playful slap on the back of his head. “You're trouble, you know that?” Arthur just grinned, relieved that Eames wasn't mad anymore. Eames sighed. “Fine. I'll be in the back if you need me. If that creeper comes back, just come get me. I'm not kidding, Arthur. I don't want you messing around with that guy.”
Arthur nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
For the next hour, Arthur ran on the treadmill without interruption. When he finished up and started toward the rowing machine he'd never got a chance to try last time, another guy approached him. This guy looked like he could bench press Arthur, and that mental image sent a shiver up his spine. He looked around for Eames, just in case, and stiffened when he saw Eames talking to some Malibu Ken doll wannabe by the free weights. The guy was all over Eames, squeezing his biceps and smiling like a simpering idiot at him.
Arthur was so wrapped up in his angry jealousy that he almost didn't hear the bodybuilder talking to him. He snapped back to reality and turned to look at him. “Oh, uh, hi,” he said gracelessly.
“Hey there,” the guy said with a smile. Up close, he was good-looking in an unremarkable sort of way. He had light brown hair and green eyes, he was tan...and he was built. He was probably even bigger than Eames, which was saying something. He had at least four inches in height on Arthur, and his arms alone looked wider than Arthur's thighs. “I'm Eric.”
“Arthur,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”
Eric leaned in close, getting right up in Arthur's personal space. “I haven't seen you here before,” he said in a hushed voice, as if he was sharing a secret.
Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes because really, this guy was hot...and if Eames didn't want to fuck Arthur, well maybe this guy would. Arthur smiled wide enough to show his dimples, and Eric appeared charmed. “That's because I'm new here,” he replied in an equally quiet tone.
Eric looked pleased to hear this. “Did you just move here?” Arthur nodded. Eric's smile grew wider. “So...” he trailed off.
“So..?” Arthur prodded.
Eric tilted his head toward a hallway Arthur hadn't noticed before. “Have you been to the steam rooms?”
Ah, so that must be where guys hooked up here. Arthur felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach, but he could still see Eames hitting on that guy in his peripheral vision, so he sacked up and turned his full attention back to Eric. “No, I haven't. Will you show me?” He tried to smile innocently while he reached out to run a hand down the guy's smooth chest.
“Sure!” Eric said.
Apparently, they had to get naked to use the steam rooms. They were more like stalls, just big enough for two. It figured. Towels were provided. Arthur followed Eric's example and stripped down before grabbing a towel. His stomach was in knots, but he was determined to go through with this. Eric didn't seem to think Arthur was just a kid.
He sat back against the damp wall as Eric did...whatever...to produce the steam. Arthur felt like he couldn't breathe. The steam made the room pretty uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to complain. When Eric turned around, he dropped his towel and walked over to Arthur. “Can I suck your dick?” he asked.
Arthur tried to hide his surprise, but Eric laughed. “You don't do this often, huh?”
Mutely, Arthur shook his head. He didn't want to give away his inexperience. Eric didn't seem to mind, however. “Here, let me,” he said as he reached for Arthur's towel. Arthur leaned back to give him better access.
He'd given Robby a couple of blow jobs, but Robby had never returned the favor. Maybe that should have been his first clue that Robert Fischer was a selfish bastard.
He pushed that thought away, however, when Eric knelt between his legs and stroked his semi-erect dick with his hand. “Let's have some fun,” he said. Arthur tried not to roll his eyes at that.
The first touch of Eric's mouth on him sent an electric pulse of pleasure up Arthur's spine. His eyes immediately closed and his head thumped weakly against the wall. He didn't know what to do with his hands. It seemed rude to put them on Eric's head, so he just gripped his knees. His orgasm was close, so he bit his lip and tried to think unsexy thoughts.
Much to his dismay, he started hearing Eames saying his name in his head. He tried to warn Eric, but two things happened just as Arthur's orgasm hit him: first, Eames busted through the door shouting Arthur's name. Second, Eames grabbed Eric around his neck and pushed him away from Arthur. Because of these events, Arthur was coming like a freight train he couldn't stop in the midst of all the pandemonium.
His eyes shot open to see a furious Eames towering over Eric on the floor. “What. The. Fuck.” Eames growled.
“This is a private room, asshole!” Eric replied angrily. “What the hell is your problem, man?”
Arthur watched Eames take another threatening step toward the guy. “He's with me,” Eames said in a deadly calm voice. Arthur shivered. Eames looked like he could kill someone right now, and fuck if that didn't turn him on just a little.
Eric held his hands up in surrender. “Hey man, I didn't know. He came back here with me, it's not like I forced him.”
Eames was silent for a moment before he backed off with a hot glare. “Well, now you know. Don't fucking touch him again,” he warned.
Arthur had to fight the urge to shrink back from Eames when he turned to look at him. Arthur was mortified to realize he had come on his stomach and thighs...and oh yeah, he was completely fucking naked. Eames's jaw clenched as he threw Arthur a towel. “Clean up, we're leaving,” he said tersely.
Arthur rushed to obey. Eric slipped out of the room and beat feet down the hall while Eames stalked the room like a caged animal. As soon as he was clean, Eames ushered him down the hall in the opposite direction. It led directly into the locker room. Eames fumed silently because there were other people milling around. Arthur threw on his sweat-damp work out clothes while Eames glared at anyone who happened to get too close.
Once again, the car ride home was awkward and silent.
As soon as they got home, Arthur was out of the car and stalking angrily inside before Eames even turned the car off. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Eames say, “Oh no, you don't. We're talking about this!”
Arthur groaned and turned back around to face Eames. “I really don't want to,” he said sullenly.
Eames was at the foot of the stairs with his hands on his hips and an angry look on his face. “Too bad,” he said.
Defeated, Arthur slumped down on the stairs and buried a hand in his hair. “This is some hypocritical bullshit, you know,” he grumbled.
Eames cocked his head. “Why, because I don't like finding you with your dick in some guy's mouth?” he shot back.
There was something off about that question, but Arthur couldn't figure out what it was. Instead, he let loose on Eames. “Gimme a break! I know you were fucking guys at my age, so what? I'm supposed to be under lock and key here? It's hypocritical,” he repeated.
Eames brushed a weary hand down his face. “I made a lot of mistakes when I was your age, Arthur. I don't want to see you get used by these predatory pieces of shit who prey on pretty boys like you!”
Arthur snorted. “Nice alliteration,” he said.
Eames scowled. “Y'know what? Fine. Go,” he said as he made a sweeping gesture toward the front door. “See what it's like to have some guy twice your age pick you up at a club and take you out to some deserted place where he can fuck you dry while his wife sits at home with the kids! Let him tear you up and drop you off like a piece of rubbish.”
Arthur blinked, completely stunned. Eames instantly looked like he regretted saying anything. Finally, Arthur spoke. “Is that...what happened to you?” he asked hesitantly.
Eames clenched his mouth shut. Just when Arthur thought he wouldn't get an answer, Eames exhaled loudly and looked directly at him. “Yeah. I was fifteen. I thought I knew everything, but I had no fucking clue. Not everyone you meet is out to use you, but you still have to watch out. I watched a lot of bright-eyed kids get fucked up in the club scene. Drugs, older men, diseases... you just have to be careful, Arthur.”
Arthur felt bad for the younger Eames, but that wasn't enough to make him back down completely. “I'm sorry,” he said. Eames looked away uncomfortably. “But that doesn't mean I'll be one of those kids. I'm almost eighteen, and besides...I don't really care about the clubs,” he said. It wasn't true, but Eames didn't need to know that. Arthur intended to check out the clubs as soon as he went off to college.
Eames just looked tired now. “Today...with that guy,” he began. Arthur tensed. “You were out of your mind to go off alone with him.”
Arthur's stubbornness asserted itself. “I was totally fine,” he insisted.
Eames's eyes were dark and dangerous. “You can't handle men like him, Arthur.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Like what? Older? I already told you I like older men.”
A growl rumbled in Eames's throat. “He was easily twice your size. He could have hurt you,” he pressed.
Arthur rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, that was kind of the point,” he said.
Eames looked slightly confused. “What?”
“I like big guys, okay? That's my type. The bigger, the better,” Arthur said.
Silence.
Eames raised his eyebrow and considered Arthur's statement. “I see. So you suckered me into taking you to the gym today so you could hook up with some meathead.”
“Not exactly,” Arthur hedged.
He looked slightly irritated. “I think that's exactly what your intentions were.”
Arthur swiftly stood up and stomped down the stairs. Without thinking, he shoved Eames against the wall behind him and laid an open-mouthed kiss on those ridiculously sinful lips. He felt Eames freeze, but he pressed forward anyway, just long enough to prove his point. When he pulled away, he bit back his regret and said, “I wasn't after some stupid meathead, you idiot! I was after you!”
Immediately, Arthur wished he could take it back. Eames looked utterly gobsmacked. He turned and ran up the stairs as fast as his feet could take him. “Arthur...” he heard Eames call after him.
“Just forget it!” he yelled back before shutting his door.