Inception Fic
The next two parts in the Birthday Boy 'verse.
Title: Sometimes There's Pouting...
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-ish
Warnings: mentions of past underage, age difference (18/29), mentions of barebacking
Disclaimer: Inception doesn't belong to me. If it did, Arthur would have made out with Eames instead of Ariadne. Well, you know...
Sometimes there's pouting...
“You're pouting.”
“Am not,” Arthur grumbled.
Eames grinned fondly and reached out to stroke over Arthur's bottom lip. “If this isn't a pout, then I've never seen a pout in my life,” Eames said.
Arthur grumbled and jerked away from Eames' hands. He was seated at the end of the bed, currently scowling down at the half-packed suitcase next to him. Eames stepped forward until he was between Arthur's legs. “Tell me what's wrong, love.”
Sometimes Arthur took a lot of patience, but then that had to be expected when one was dating an eighteen-year-old boy, no matter how mature he was. Luckily, Eames utterly loved the little bastard, so he gladly put up with these rare moods of his.
Finally, Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. Eames waited. He knew Arthur would talk about it eventually. “It's just...”
“Just what?” Eames encouraged.
Arthur looked around the room as if trying to escape, but visibly steeled himself for what came next: “What do you see in me?” he mumbled awkwardly without meeting Eames' eyes.
Eames paused, surprised at this question. After the past month he'd spent with Arthur, lavishing him with attention (and lots and lots of sex, he must say), he was entirely taken aback by this sudden insecurity showing on Arthur's face.
Off the top of his head, he could think of several ways to answer Arthur's question. Arthur was brilliant, could go to any school he wanted to if he was willing to leave Eames. Instead, he was going to the local community college. Eames knew it wasn't entirely fair, but since he was somewhat selfish where Arthur was concerned (not to mention that promise he'd made not to assume he knew what was better for Arthur than he did), he was content for now.
Arthur was a lot of things... gorgeous, thoughtful, a lovely conversationalist. Despite being much younger than Eames, he often tried to take care of Eames on the sly. He apparently thought Eames wouldn't notice the way he kept the house spotless, or all the attempts he'd made at cooking.
He could recall the exact moment he stopped questioning what right he had to date Arthur. He'd come home from a long day of frustrating meetings to find Arthur standing nervously in front of the door, dressed impeccably. The lights were off throughout the entire house, save for the soft candlelight peeking through the door to the dining room.
When he looked at Arthur questioningly, Arthur said, “I...I made Mal's chicken marsala. She said it was your favorite...”
Eames remembered how it didn't taste like chicken marsala at all, and how Arthur mumbled embarrassed apologies because he wasn't old enough to actually buy the right wine so he'd had to use a bottle of whatever Eames had in the cupboard. Arthur had looked defeated, but his dark eyes still held a little bit of hope that Eames would like it.
He ate every last bite.
Back in the present, he smiled at Arthur and leaned down to brush a gentle kiss across his (yes, pouting) lips. “I see a lot of things in you, Arthur. I see a boy with a lot of potential to be become whatever he wants to be...but I also see a man who knows what he wants, and goes after it with confidence. When you make a decision, you always follow through. You're loyal, and you never let anyone down,” Eames answered honestly.
Arthur still frowned. “But what about sexy things?”
Eames was confused. “'Sexy things?'”
Arthur flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Eames could think of a number of sexy things he could be doing right now if only he didn't have to pack.
“Yeah. Like, when you're on this business trip forever and you get horny, so you go pick up some guy...” he trailed off, looking miserable.
Sometimes Eames could be a little slow in understanding where Arthur was coming from. Fortunately, this instance was all too clear. “Let me get this straight...you think I'm going to pick up some random fuck while I'm gone, is that right?”
Arthur was red in the face now. He didn't say anything in response.
Eames was maybe just a little bit offended and angry now. He lifted Arthur's chin until he could look him straight in the eye. “Do you think so little of me? That I'm the kind of bloke who cheats?”
Arthur swallowed hard. His eyes were trying to dart away, but Eames wouldn't let him look anywhere else. “Arthur. I resisted your considerable charms for a gruelingly long time until you turned eighteen. I risked the closest friendship I have to be with you. I took your virginity, for - no, you know what? I don't wear condoms with you. Do you honestly think I'd be unfaithful to you?”
Arthur's eyes began to water, so Eames released his chin and Arthur bowed his head. “I guess not,” he mumbled contritely.
Eames let loose a long-suffering sigh and pushed against Arthur's shoulders until he dropped back on the bed. He looked at Eames warily as he climbed up along Arthur's body until he straddled his lap. “I think what you need is a reminder of just how sexy I think you are,” he said with a smirk.
Arthur relaxed back against the bed and grinned up at him. “Well, if you insist...”
Title: There Will Be Porn
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: age difference (18/29), barebacking, dirty talk, possessive!arthur, slutty!arthur, bb!arthur
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine. Pity. :-)
Notes: I'm dedicating this to eternalsojourn because her hot stories inspired me to dust off my porn writing habit. ;)
The morning Eames was due to leave for his business trip, Arthur stood at the new island in the kitchen wearing nothing but Eames' shirt from the day before. It smelled like him, and that was comforting.
He most decidedly did not frown as he stirred the pancake batter in front of him. Upstairs, the sound of the shower going on just served to remind him of how empty and lonely the house would be without Eames there to fill it with his larger than life personality.
God, he was going to miss the stupid, beautiful jerk.
After limply twirling the wooden spoon in the batter for too long, he sighed and shoved it away in frustration. He was acting like a stupid lovelorn teenager. The fact that he was a teenager was beside the point. The real issue was that since Eames had picked him up the night of his eighteenth birthday, he'd rarely gone a day without seeing or talking to him.
Arthur's confidence in his new-found relationship with Eames was shaken by the fear that being away from Arthur for ten days would give Eames time to think and perhaps realize that he could find someone better than Arthur after all. Someone older, more mature...better in bed.
His morose thoughts distracted him until he heard Eames coming down the stairs. “Arthur, love? Where are you?”
“In here,” he called sullenly. He struggled to wipe his face clean of the bad mood he was in before Eames swept into the kitchen looking way too hot in a slate gray business suit with a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.
He grinned at Arthur. “There you are,” he practically purred as he set his briefcase down next to the suitcase standing beside the door. “What are you making?”
Arthur shrugged. His mind was on other things...namely, how much he wanted to jump Eames and tear him out of that suit. “Breakfast...but I'm not really all that hungry.”
Eames came to press up against him from behind. Arthur swallowed hard at the feeling. As Eames began to nuzzle his neck, Arthur shifted back to rub himself against him. Eames let out a small moan before he lifted Arthur's hand and said, “You have a little something, just here...” and licked some pancake batter off the side of Arthur's thumb.
Arthur pushed back against Eames until he could turn around and look up at him. “Don't you have a flight to catch?” he asked teasingly.
Eames' grin was just as teasing. “Yes, I'd better be off, actually. Can't keep the clients waiting! Oh, Arthur, is that my shirt?” he asked.
“Mmm,” was all Arthur said as he sank down to his knees and reached for Eames' belt.
“That is my shirt! Darling, what are you doing? I would love to do this, but I really do have a flight to catch...” Eames babbled.
“Did you want me to take it off?” he asked innocently (yeah, right). “Because I'm not wearing anything underneath, so it might get a bit chilly for me...”
Eames dropped his head back and Arthur tried not to be smug at the frustrated moan that rose toward the ceiling. “If you're trying to delay me with your delightful mouth and your pert bum, I'm afraid it won't work,” he said unconvincingly.
Arthur quirked an eyebrow at that. “Oh really?” he replied with a wicked twinkle in his eye. Arthur did so love a challenge, after all.
He finished unbuckling Eames' belt and worked on opening his trousers. Despite Eames' protests, he wasn't actually moving to get away from Arthur, so they obviously weren't very sincere. Once he had Eames' cock out, he immediately took it into his mouth and laved it with saliva to get it slick. Pulling back, he stroked it in a tight fist as he peered up at Eames from beneath his eyelashes. “Remember the first time I did this?” he asked, his voice low with promise.
Eames shuddered. “Oh, you mean the time you pretended you wanted me to teach you how to suck cock and then proceeded to suck my brains out like a professional?” he asked sarcastically.
Arthur dipped back in to lick Eames' cock from base to tip, stopping only to smile up at him. “Well, we've all got our talents,” he quipped before sucking Eames in to the back of his throat.
Eames moaned and reached down to bury his hands in Arthur's sleep-rumpled hair. “Yeah, but you made me think it was your first time,” he accused without any anger in his tone.
Arthur didn't bother to respond and Eames didn't really care, because both of them were far more interested in the messy, amazing blow job Arthur was giving him there in the middle of the kitchen.
When Eames got close, Arthur stood up with one hand still gripping the base of Eames' cock. His lips were red, swollen and slick from spit and friction. “Well, are you going to fuck me, or are you going to leave here with the worst case of blue balls you've ever had?” he asked, voice raspy from all the deep throating going on just moments before.
Eames groaned pathetically and dropped his chin down to his chest. “We don't have lube down here,” he reminded Arthur.
This would have to be remedied immediately, but for now Arthur couldn't really be bothered to care. “Just fuck me like this, then,” he invited as he jacked his hand along Eames' spit-slick cock.
Eames adamantly shook his head. “Spit-fucking is for amateurs and idiots who don't realize the importance of proper lube,” he said.
Arthur sighed, but he'd heard this lecture from Eames before, so he didn't argue. Instead, he reached out for the open bottle of vegetable oil and held it out to Eames with a triumphant smile. “How 'bout this instead?” he asked brightly.
Eames only looked disgruntled with using oil for a moment, but Arthur could tell his resolve was rapidly dwindling as he stared down at the erection currently peeking out between the tails of the shirt Arthur was wearing. Feeling bold, Arthur turned to face the island once more and leaned against it as he poured some of the oil onto his fingers. As he looked back over his shoulder at Eames' conflicted expression, he reached down to slide his oiled hand down between his cheeks until he reached his hole. Keeping Eames' eyes locked on his, he licked his lips and gave him a heavy-lidded gaze as he pushed two fingers inside himself. “Mmmm, ahhhhh....” he moaned as he worked himself open, even though he was still a bit loose from the night before.
It was with this noise that Eames' control finally crumbled. Arthur kept fingering himself as he watched Eames tear at the trousers still clinging to his hips. Once he had those and his boxer briefs down around his ankles, he reached for the oil, but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “No, no, like this...” he begged as he pulled out his fingers and thrust his ass back against Eames' swollen erection.
At first, it was clear that Eames wasn't sure what he meant, so Arthur reached back to guide his dick between his cheeks. He gripped Arthur's hips as he slid his cock along the slippery crack leading down to Arthur's hole. There was enough oil there to slick him up before he positioned himself at Arthur's entrance and pushed. He panted and dropped his forehead against the back of Arthur's neck. “Fuck. God, you feel so good like this,” he moaned.
Arthur pushed back against him, trying to get him to go deeper. “Like what?” he asked.
“Skin...” thrust “on” thrust, pant “skin,” Eames replied tightly.
Arthur was getting impatient with all the shallow thrusts. “Turn me around,” he demanded. “I want to see your face.”
Obediently, Eames pulled out and spun him around before lifting him up onto the island. The smooth wood finish was slightly cold beneath his naked ass, but Arthur couldn't give a damn as he leaned back on his hands and pulled his feet up to rest along the edge of the island. He looked at Eames' flushed cheeks and dazed eyes and felt his chest tighten. “Promise me something,” he said.
Eames' brow furrowed in concentration as he reached out to pull Arthur's ass closer to the edge. “Mmm, anything. Bring that arse here, I need to fuck it,” Eames said distractedly. When he apparently had Arthur's ass where he wanted it, Eames shoved his forearms up behind Arthur's knees and lifted them so he could gain better access to his hole.
Arthur momentarily forgot what he wanted to ask of Eames as Eames pushed back inside him, but as he looked up from where they were joined, he remembered. “Promise me that this is mine,” he panted. “That no one else gets to see you like this.” He reached out and buried his hands in Eames' neatly combed hair, mussing it with an almost perverse satisfaction.
Eames tilted his head toward Arthur to give him better access and shut his eyes, his face the very picture of bliss. “Yessssss,” he said. His hips began to piston faster and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the kitchen walls.
Arthur loved the sound of Eames fucking him.
Something Arthur had figured out over the past month was that Eames really seemed to enjoy it when Arthur talked dirty to him. The first few times they had sex, he was more reserved, but he seemed to have a natural inclination to spew all kinds of filth during sex.
“God, you look so hot like this,” he said. Eames just licked his lips. A well-aimed thrust grazed his prostate and he was forced to close his eyes through the pleasure. Eames kept hitting just the right spot, and Arthur could tell he was getting closer. He just needed a little more to push Eames over the edge. “Fuck! You know you're the only one who gets to spread me open like this,” he panted.
Eames grunted and thrust harder. “Yeah, baby. That's right,” Eames said breathlessly. He reached out and gripped Arthur's cock. His hand was uncomfortably dry, but Arthur was so far gone that the extra friction felt amazing.
“It's like...it's like my ass was made just for your cock. Eames!” Arthur's voice was broken and harsh. Dry sobs of pleasure were wracking his chest, trying to break through his throat to fill the kitchen. Eames was so close, he could feel it. Arthur was almost lost to orgasm himself. He just couldn't stop talking, he didn't even know what he was really saying. “Fuck, holy shit, you fuck me so good. I feel your cock even when you're not in me. You fuck me and I feel it for days. God, you're so fucking hot. I wish you could shove your cock in me all day long, filling me with your come.”
Eames let loose a broken moan. “You'd like that, love? You'd like being my little cockslut? I know you would. I know how hungry you are for it. For my cock, for my come in your mouth and your tight little arse. I'd feed you my cock all day.”
Arthur whimpered and wrapped his hand around Eames' on his dick, speeding up the thrusts and friction. He was already leaking, and his balls were getting tight. “I'd love it, I'd fucking love it, Eames. I'd take your cock and beg for more, I'd never get enough,” he said. His voice was getting higher, more desperate. Eames was grunting with each thrust now, and they were getting more and more erratic.
“What are you gonna do without my cock filling you up while I'm gone?” he said.
Arthur whined and scrabbled to cling to his shoulders, hot even through his shirt and blazer. “I'll just...I'll just...”
“I know what you're gonna do. You're gonna fuck yourself while I watch you and tell you what to do,” Eames said.
Arthur opened his eyes and tried to focus on Eames. “I'm gonna come,” he croaked. His throat was so dry, he could barely swallow.
Eames leaned over to bite his earlobe and whisper in his ear. “When I get back, you're not leaving the bed for days.”
Arthur moaned high and loud as he came all over his stomach and Eames' hand. Eames was pounding into him now, completely letting himself go. Arthur reached out to grip his ears and drag him into a wet, sloppy kiss. He bit Eames' lip hard and dragged it between his teeth. He had the sudden urge to mark him, to show anyone who cared to look that Eames was his and his alone.
“Mine,” he growled as he sucked a huge bruise at the base of Eames' neck. Eames released a guttural moan and started spurting his hot come deep into Arthur's ass. Arthur clenched his muscles around him, milking him until Eames hissed from the sensitivity and pulled out. Arthur clenched his hole in an attempt to keep Eames' come inside him.
The kitchen was quiet save for the heavy breathing between them. Arthur was completely satisfied with the mess he'd made of Eames, and Eames looked like he could barely stand up. His hair was sticking out in places, and his shirt had a damp patch of sweat across the chest, not to mention the come stains at the bottom. He allowed himself only a few more harsh breaths before he bent down to pull his up his trousers. They were creased, but they hid the wet patches from Arthur's come once Eames tucked his shirt in and buckled his belt.
He ran his hands through his hair, but Arthur slapped them away and rumpled it again. Eames looked at him with amused fondness. “You know everyone at the airport is going to look at me and know I just got done fucking someone,” he said conversationally.
Arthur grinned and pulled him in by the lapels until he could wrap his bare legs around Eames' waist. “Let them look. They'll all be jealous. They'll all wish they were me,” Arthur said smugly.
Eames laughed and brushed his bruised lips against Arthur's. “That reminds me,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Arthur was busy nibbling on the skin just below Eames' right ear, but he pulled back and shot him a questioning look. “What?” he asked.
Eames pulled away from Arthur, who only released him reluctantly. He went over to his briefcase and came back with a wrapped package. Arthur perked up, because he liked presents. “What did you get me?” he asked curiously.
Eames handed him the present and cracked a smile. “It's for while I'm gone,” he explained.
Arthur ripped open the paper and held up the dildo. It looked suspiciously familiar. “Wait, is this...dude, is this like, a replica of your dick, Eames?”
Eames looked pleased. “Of course, my love. I shouldn't like to deprive you while I'm gone,” he said so graciously.
Arthur chuckled and ran his hands over it. “So, I assume this is what I'll be using while we're Skyping?” he asked.
Eames nodded and grinned wickedly. “Oh, definitely.”
Arthur just shook his head in amusement and reeled Eames back in for another sloppy kiss. “I love it,” he said.
Later that night, Eames collapsed on the crappy hotel bed in exhaustion. He picked up his phone to call Arthur, only to find he already had a picture message from him. It was clearly Arthur, but all the picture showed was a close up of Arthur's lips wrapped around the head of the dildo.
Beneath the picture, it said Wish you were here...and by here, I mean in my mouth.
It was going be to a long ten days.
Title: Sometimes There's Pouting...
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-ish
Warnings: mentions of past underage, age difference (18/29), mentions of barebacking
Disclaimer: Inception doesn't belong to me. If it did, Arthur would have made out with Eames instead of Ariadne. Well, you know...
Sometimes there's pouting...
“You're pouting.”
“Am not,” Arthur grumbled.
Eames grinned fondly and reached out to stroke over Arthur's bottom lip. “If this isn't a pout, then I've never seen a pout in my life,” Eames said.
Arthur grumbled and jerked away from Eames' hands. He was seated at the end of the bed, currently scowling down at the half-packed suitcase next to him. Eames stepped forward until he was between Arthur's legs. “Tell me what's wrong, love.”
Sometimes Arthur took a lot of patience, but then that had to be expected when one was dating an eighteen-year-old boy, no matter how mature he was. Luckily, Eames utterly loved the little bastard, so he gladly put up with these rare moods of his.
Finally, Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. Eames waited. He knew Arthur would talk about it eventually. “It's just...”
“Just what?” Eames encouraged.
Arthur looked around the room as if trying to escape, but visibly steeled himself for what came next: “What do you see in me?” he mumbled awkwardly without meeting Eames' eyes.
Eames paused, surprised at this question. After the past month he'd spent with Arthur, lavishing him with attention (and lots and lots of sex, he must say), he was entirely taken aback by this sudden insecurity showing on Arthur's face.
Off the top of his head, he could think of several ways to answer Arthur's question. Arthur was brilliant, could go to any school he wanted to if he was willing to leave Eames. Instead, he was going to the local community college. Eames knew it wasn't entirely fair, but since he was somewhat selfish where Arthur was concerned (not to mention that promise he'd made not to assume he knew what was better for Arthur than he did), he was content for now.
Arthur was a lot of things... gorgeous, thoughtful, a lovely conversationalist. Despite being much younger than Eames, he often tried to take care of Eames on the sly. He apparently thought Eames wouldn't notice the way he kept the house spotless, or all the attempts he'd made at cooking.
He could recall the exact moment he stopped questioning what right he had to date Arthur. He'd come home from a long day of frustrating meetings to find Arthur standing nervously in front of the door, dressed impeccably. The lights were off throughout the entire house, save for the soft candlelight peeking through the door to the dining room.
When he looked at Arthur questioningly, Arthur said, “I...I made Mal's chicken marsala. She said it was your favorite...”
Eames remembered how it didn't taste like chicken marsala at all, and how Arthur mumbled embarrassed apologies because he wasn't old enough to actually buy the right wine so he'd had to use a bottle of whatever Eames had in the cupboard. Arthur had looked defeated, but his dark eyes still held a little bit of hope that Eames would like it.
He ate every last bite.
Back in the present, he smiled at Arthur and leaned down to brush a gentle kiss across his (yes, pouting) lips. “I see a lot of things in you, Arthur. I see a boy with a lot of potential to be become whatever he wants to be...but I also see a man who knows what he wants, and goes after it with confidence. When you make a decision, you always follow through. You're loyal, and you never let anyone down,” Eames answered honestly.
Arthur still frowned. “But what about sexy things?”
Eames was confused. “'Sexy things?'”
Arthur flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Eames could think of a number of sexy things he could be doing right now if only he didn't have to pack.
“Yeah. Like, when you're on this business trip forever and you get horny, so you go pick up some guy...” he trailed off, looking miserable.
Sometimes Eames could be a little slow in understanding where Arthur was coming from. Fortunately, this instance was all too clear. “Let me get this straight...you think I'm going to pick up some random fuck while I'm gone, is that right?”
Arthur was red in the face now. He didn't say anything in response.
Eames was maybe just a little bit offended and angry now. He lifted Arthur's chin until he could look him straight in the eye. “Do you think so little of me? That I'm the kind of bloke who cheats?”
Arthur swallowed hard. His eyes were trying to dart away, but Eames wouldn't let him look anywhere else. “Arthur. I resisted your considerable charms for a gruelingly long time until you turned eighteen. I risked the closest friendship I have to be with you. I took your virginity, for - no, you know what? I don't wear condoms with you. Do you honestly think I'd be unfaithful to you?”
Arthur's eyes began to water, so Eames released his chin and Arthur bowed his head. “I guess not,” he mumbled contritely.
Eames let loose a long-suffering sigh and pushed against Arthur's shoulders until he dropped back on the bed. He looked at Eames warily as he climbed up along Arthur's body until he straddled his lap. “I think what you need is a reminder of just how sexy I think you are,” he said with a smirk.
Arthur relaxed back against the bed and grinned up at him. “Well, if you insist...”
Title: There Will Be Porn
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Kinks: age difference (18/29), barebacking, dirty talk, possessive!arthur, slutty!arthur, bb!arthur
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine. Pity. :-)
Notes: I'm dedicating this to eternalsojourn because her hot stories inspired me to dust off my porn writing habit. ;)
The morning Eames was due to leave for his business trip, Arthur stood at the new island in the kitchen wearing nothing but Eames' shirt from the day before. It smelled like him, and that was comforting.
He most decidedly did not frown as he stirred the pancake batter in front of him. Upstairs, the sound of the shower going on just served to remind him of how empty and lonely the house would be without Eames there to fill it with his larger than life personality.
God, he was going to miss the stupid, beautiful jerk.
After limply twirling the wooden spoon in the batter for too long, he sighed and shoved it away in frustration. He was acting like a stupid lovelorn teenager. The fact that he was a teenager was beside the point. The real issue was that since Eames had picked him up the night of his eighteenth birthday, he'd rarely gone a day without seeing or talking to him.
Arthur's confidence in his new-found relationship with Eames was shaken by the fear that being away from Arthur for ten days would give Eames time to think and perhaps realize that he could find someone better than Arthur after all. Someone older, more mature...better in bed.
His morose thoughts distracted him until he heard Eames coming down the stairs. “Arthur, love? Where are you?”
“In here,” he called sullenly. He struggled to wipe his face clean of the bad mood he was in before Eames swept into the kitchen looking way too hot in a slate gray business suit with a blue shirt that brought out the color of his eyes.
He grinned at Arthur. “There you are,” he practically purred as he set his briefcase down next to the suitcase standing beside the door. “What are you making?”
Arthur shrugged. His mind was on other things...namely, how much he wanted to jump Eames and tear him out of that suit. “Breakfast...but I'm not really all that hungry.”
Eames came to press up against him from behind. Arthur swallowed hard at the feeling. As Eames began to nuzzle his neck, Arthur shifted back to rub himself against him. Eames let out a small moan before he lifted Arthur's hand and said, “You have a little something, just here...” and licked some pancake batter off the side of Arthur's thumb.
Arthur pushed back against Eames until he could turn around and look up at him. “Don't you have a flight to catch?” he asked teasingly.
Eames' grin was just as teasing. “Yes, I'd better be off, actually. Can't keep the clients waiting! Oh, Arthur, is that my shirt?” he asked.
“Mmm,” was all Arthur said as he sank down to his knees and reached for Eames' belt.
“That is my shirt! Darling, what are you doing? I would love to do this, but I really do have a flight to catch...” Eames babbled.
“Did you want me to take it off?” he asked innocently (yeah, right). “Because I'm not wearing anything underneath, so it might get a bit chilly for me...”
Eames dropped his head back and Arthur tried not to be smug at the frustrated moan that rose toward the ceiling. “If you're trying to delay me with your delightful mouth and your pert bum, I'm afraid it won't work,” he said unconvincingly.
Arthur quirked an eyebrow at that. “Oh really?” he replied with a wicked twinkle in his eye. Arthur did so love a challenge, after all.
He finished unbuckling Eames' belt and worked on opening his trousers. Despite Eames' protests, he wasn't actually moving to get away from Arthur, so they obviously weren't very sincere. Once he had Eames' cock out, he immediately took it into his mouth and laved it with saliva to get it slick. Pulling back, he stroked it in a tight fist as he peered up at Eames from beneath his eyelashes. “Remember the first time I did this?” he asked, his voice low with promise.
Eames shuddered. “Oh, you mean the time you pretended you wanted me to teach you how to suck cock and then proceeded to suck my brains out like a professional?” he asked sarcastically.
Arthur dipped back in to lick Eames' cock from base to tip, stopping only to smile up at him. “Well, we've all got our talents,” he quipped before sucking Eames in to the back of his throat.
Eames moaned and reached down to bury his hands in Arthur's sleep-rumpled hair. “Yeah, but you made me think it was your first time,” he accused without any anger in his tone.
Arthur didn't bother to respond and Eames didn't really care, because both of them were far more interested in the messy, amazing blow job Arthur was giving him there in the middle of the kitchen.
When Eames got close, Arthur stood up with one hand still gripping the base of Eames' cock. His lips were red, swollen and slick from spit and friction. “Well, are you going to fuck me, or are you going to leave here with the worst case of blue balls you've ever had?” he asked, voice raspy from all the deep throating going on just moments before.
Eames groaned pathetically and dropped his chin down to his chest. “We don't have lube down here,” he reminded Arthur.
This would have to be remedied immediately, but for now Arthur couldn't really be bothered to care. “Just fuck me like this, then,” he invited as he jacked his hand along Eames' spit-slick cock.
Eames adamantly shook his head. “Spit-fucking is for amateurs and idiots who don't realize the importance of proper lube,” he said.
Arthur sighed, but he'd heard this lecture from Eames before, so he didn't argue. Instead, he reached out for the open bottle of vegetable oil and held it out to Eames with a triumphant smile. “How 'bout this instead?” he asked brightly.
Eames only looked disgruntled with using oil for a moment, but Arthur could tell his resolve was rapidly dwindling as he stared down at the erection currently peeking out between the tails of the shirt Arthur was wearing. Feeling bold, Arthur turned to face the island once more and leaned against it as he poured some of the oil onto his fingers. As he looked back over his shoulder at Eames' conflicted expression, he reached down to slide his oiled hand down between his cheeks until he reached his hole. Keeping Eames' eyes locked on his, he licked his lips and gave him a heavy-lidded gaze as he pushed two fingers inside himself. “Mmmm, ahhhhh....” he moaned as he worked himself open, even though he was still a bit loose from the night before.
It was with this noise that Eames' control finally crumbled. Arthur kept fingering himself as he watched Eames tear at the trousers still clinging to his hips. Once he had those and his boxer briefs down around his ankles, he reached for the oil, but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “No, no, like this...” he begged as he pulled out his fingers and thrust his ass back against Eames' swollen erection.
At first, it was clear that Eames wasn't sure what he meant, so Arthur reached back to guide his dick between his cheeks. He gripped Arthur's hips as he slid his cock along the slippery crack leading down to Arthur's hole. There was enough oil there to slick him up before he positioned himself at Arthur's entrance and pushed. He panted and dropped his forehead against the back of Arthur's neck. “Fuck. God, you feel so good like this,” he moaned.
Arthur pushed back against him, trying to get him to go deeper. “Like what?” he asked.
“Skin...” thrust “on” thrust, pant “skin,” Eames replied tightly.
Arthur was getting impatient with all the shallow thrusts. “Turn me around,” he demanded. “I want to see your face.”
Obediently, Eames pulled out and spun him around before lifting him up onto the island. The smooth wood finish was slightly cold beneath his naked ass, but Arthur couldn't give a damn as he leaned back on his hands and pulled his feet up to rest along the edge of the island. He looked at Eames' flushed cheeks and dazed eyes and felt his chest tighten. “Promise me something,” he said.
Eames' brow furrowed in concentration as he reached out to pull Arthur's ass closer to the edge. “Mmm, anything. Bring that arse here, I need to fuck it,” Eames said distractedly. When he apparently had Arthur's ass where he wanted it, Eames shoved his forearms up behind Arthur's knees and lifted them so he could gain better access to his hole.
Arthur momentarily forgot what he wanted to ask of Eames as Eames pushed back inside him, but as he looked up from where they were joined, he remembered. “Promise me that this is mine,” he panted. “That no one else gets to see you like this.” He reached out and buried his hands in Eames' neatly combed hair, mussing it with an almost perverse satisfaction.
Eames tilted his head toward Arthur to give him better access and shut his eyes, his face the very picture of bliss. “Yessssss,” he said. His hips began to piston faster and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the kitchen walls.
Arthur loved the sound of Eames fucking him.
Something Arthur had figured out over the past month was that Eames really seemed to enjoy it when Arthur talked dirty to him. The first few times they had sex, he was more reserved, but he seemed to have a natural inclination to spew all kinds of filth during sex.
“God, you look so hot like this,” he said. Eames just licked his lips. A well-aimed thrust grazed his prostate and he was forced to close his eyes through the pleasure. Eames kept hitting just the right spot, and Arthur could tell he was getting closer. He just needed a little more to push Eames over the edge. “Fuck! You know you're the only one who gets to spread me open like this,” he panted.
Eames grunted and thrust harder. “Yeah, baby. That's right,” Eames said breathlessly. He reached out and gripped Arthur's cock. His hand was uncomfortably dry, but Arthur was so far gone that the extra friction felt amazing.
“It's like...it's like my ass was made just for your cock. Eames!” Arthur's voice was broken and harsh. Dry sobs of pleasure were wracking his chest, trying to break through his throat to fill the kitchen. Eames was so close, he could feel it. Arthur was almost lost to orgasm himself. He just couldn't stop talking, he didn't even know what he was really saying. “Fuck, holy shit, you fuck me so good. I feel your cock even when you're not in me. You fuck me and I feel it for days. God, you're so fucking hot. I wish you could shove your cock in me all day long, filling me with your come.”
Eames let loose a broken moan. “You'd like that, love? You'd like being my little cockslut? I know you would. I know how hungry you are for it. For my cock, for my come in your mouth and your tight little arse. I'd feed you my cock all day.”
Arthur whimpered and wrapped his hand around Eames' on his dick, speeding up the thrusts and friction. He was already leaking, and his balls were getting tight. “I'd love it, I'd fucking love it, Eames. I'd take your cock and beg for more, I'd never get enough,” he said. His voice was getting higher, more desperate. Eames was grunting with each thrust now, and they were getting more and more erratic.
“What are you gonna do without my cock filling you up while I'm gone?” he said.
Arthur whined and scrabbled to cling to his shoulders, hot even through his shirt and blazer. “I'll just...I'll just...”
“I know what you're gonna do. You're gonna fuck yourself while I watch you and tell you what to do,” Eames said.
Arthur opened his eyes and tried to focus on Eames. “I'm gonna come,” he croaked. His throat was so dry, he could barely swallow.
Eames leaned over to bite his earlobe and whisper in his ear. “When I get back, you're not leaving the bed for days.”
Arthur moaned high and loud as he came all over his stomach and Eames' hand. Eames was pounding into him now, completely letting himself go. Arthur reached out to grip his ears and drag him into a wet, sloppy kiss. He bit Eames' lip hard and dragged it between his teeth. He had the sudden urge to mark him, to show anyone who cared to look that Eames was his and his alone.
“Mine,” he growled as he sucked a huge bruise at the base of Eames' neck. Eames released a guttural moan and started spurting his hot come deep into Arthur's ass. Arthur clenched his muscles around him, milking him until Eames hissed from the sensitivity and pulled out. Arthur clenched his hole in an attempt to keep Eames' come inside him.
The kitchen was quiet save for the heavy breathing between them. Arthur was completely satisfied with the mess he'd made of Eames, and Eames looked like he could barely stand up. His hair was sticking out in places, and his shirt had a damp patch of sweat across the chest, not to mention the come stains at the bottom. He allowed himself only a few more harsh breaths before he bent down to pull his up his trousers. They were creased, but they hid the wet patches from Arthur's come once Eames tucked his shirt in and buckled his belt.
He ran his hands through his hair, but Arthur slapped them away and rumpled it again. Eames looked at him with amused fondness. “You know everyone at the airport is going to look at me and know I just got done fucking someone,” he said conversationally.
Arthur grinned and pulled him in by the lapels until he could wrap his bare legs around Eames' waist. “Let them look. They'll all be jealous. They'll all wish they were me,” Arthur said smugly.
Eames laughed and brushed his bruised lips against Arthur's. “That reminds me,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Arthur was busy nibbling on the skin just below Eames' right ear, but he pulled back and shot him a questioning look. “What?” he asked.
Eames pulled away from Arthur, who only released him reluctantly. He went over to his briefcase and came back with a wrapped package. Arthur perked up, because he liked presents. “What did you get me?” he asked curiously.
Eames handed him the present and cracked a smile. “It's for while I'm gone,” he explained.
Arthur ripped open the paper and held up the dildo. It looked suspiciously familiar. “Wait, is this...dude, is this like, a replica of your dick, Eames?”
Eames looked pleased. “Of course, my love. I shouldn't like to deprive you while I'm gone,” he said so graciously.
Arthur chuckled and ran his hands over it. “So, I assume this is what I'll be using while we're Skyping?” he asked.
Eames nodded and grinned wickedly. “Oh, definitely.”
Arthur just shook his head in amusement and reeled Eames back in for another sloppy kiss. “I love it,” he said.
Later that night, Eames collapsed on the crappy hotel bed in exhaustion. He picked up his phone to call Arthur, only to find he already had a picture message from him. It was clearly Arthur, but all the picture showed was a close up of Arthur's lips wrapped around the head of the dildo.
Beneath the picture, it said Wish you were here...and by here, I mean in my mouth.
It was going be to a long ten days.