This is right now - Inception - NC-17
Title: This is right now
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 689 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is just porn that started on twitter, and finally got cleaned up enough to post.
Arthur's loose and more than ready by the time Eames pushes in. He's loud, because he's always loud: Arthur never saw any reason to to hold back once he's in bed. It feels too good to keep it in. Arthur arches, pushing down and back, greedy and demanding, and Eames groans like the sound is ripped out of him by Arthur's pleasure. Arthur bites Eames's shoulder, the join of his neck, the corner of his jaw; Arthur likes to use his teeth, and Eames likes to let him.
"Harder," Arthur demands, pressing his fingers into Eames's shoulders until the tips turn white. "Harder, come on; don't make me wait."
Eames's face crumples, almost like it hurts, like he's been hit, and his hips snap to a stop. "Christ, Arthur, you can't do that to me." And Arthur smiles wickedly at Eames before leaning forward to lick at his mouth.
"Do you like that, Mr Eames?" he asks, teasing, with a slow roll of his hips. It ends on a gasp, but that's fine, because Eames's hips snap forward again, that same aborted attempt his body makes to get more of what it wants now, no matter what else Eames might think about lasting. "I like it," Arthur continues, "I love it, love the way your cock feels in me." He does, and he loves this too: how easy it is to break cool Mr Eames. How easy it is to have him gasping and shuddering and buried inside him, and all Arthur has to do to get it is beg.
Eames groans again, face still collapsed in sensation, but he starts moving--really moving, with steady, even thrusts, and not that jerky, uncontrolled rocking from before. Eames hasn't realized yet, and Arthur won't tell him, but if he ever wanted to break Arthur back, all he'd need to do is keep those tiny, erratic movements up, never hard or deep enough, only the feeling of being held open and the tease of so much more. Arthur would break like that, easily, go mindless and absolutely desperate. But Eames doesn’t know, and Arthur wants this, like this. Arthur's used to getting what he wants.
Arthur gives himself up to it until Eames catches his mouth, sucks on his tongue in time with his strokes. Eames won't keep it up. He likes to hear Arthur too much, and the muffled cries being caught between his lips aren't enough. Eames slows down, snaking one arm under Arthur's armpits and hauls him up, angling deeper, the way Eames knows he likes.
Arthur breaks away, louder now, thrashing. He doesn't need to try to break Eames anymore; he's stopped caring if he does. Now all he wants is more, and faster, and Eames's body surging against him. He says this because he doesn't see any reason not to, not when Eames is moving like that, not when he already has Eames exactly how he wants him. He wants to come. He never wants it to stop. He wants to feel Eames come, inside, wants to feel it, hot and slick, wishes they weren't using a condom so he could have it; Arthur throws his head back, arching to push his cock against Eames's sweat-wet belly for the friction. He feels full and wanting, and he rolls his hips in a jagged circle, all taking and pressure until he comes.
"Fuck," Eames swears. "Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," until it's all one endless word and his breath runs out and he's coming too, collapsing on his side in a messy heap. Arthur kisses him then, more panting breaths than proper kisses, too tired and breathless to keep his lips shut, until Eames has enough of himself again to kiss Arthur back. They'll have to clean up in a moment, Eames careful with the condom as he pulls out, and Arthur pulling faces at the come smeared everywhere, but that's in a moment. This is right now.
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 689 words
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is just porn that started on twitter, and finally got cleaned up enough to post.
Arthur's loose and more than ready by the time Eames pushes in. He's loud, because he's always loud: Arthur never saw any reason to to hold back once he's in bed. It feels too good to keep it in. Arthur arches, pushing down and back, greedy and demanding, and Eames groans like the sound is ripped out of him by Arthur's pleasure. Arthur bites Eames's shoulder, the join of his neck, the corner of his jaw; Arthur likes to use his teeth, and Eames likes to let him.
"Harder," Arthur demands, pressing his fingers into Eames's shoulders until the tips turn white. "Harder, come on; don't make me wait."
Eames's face crumples, almost like it hurts, like he's been hit, and his hips snap to a stop. "Christ, Arthur, you can't do that to me." And Arthur smiles wickedly at Eames before leaning forward to lick at his mouth.
"Do you like that, Mr Eames?" he asks, teasing, with a slow roll of his hips. It ends on a gasp, but that's fine, because Eames's hips snap forward again, that same aborted attempt his body makes to get more of what it wants now, no matter what else Eames might think about lasting. "I like it," Arthur continues, "I love it, love the way your cock feels in me." He does, and he loves this too: how easy it is to break cool Mr Eames. How easy it is to have him gasping and shuddering and buried inside him, and all Arthur has to do to get it is beg.
Eames groans again, face still collapsed in sensation, but he starts moving--really moving, with steady, even thrusts, and not that jerky, uncontrolled rocking from before. Eames hasn't realized yet, and Arthur won't tell him, but if he ever wanted to break Arthur back, all he'd need to do is keep those tiny, erratic movements up, never hard or deep enough, only the feeling of being held open and the tease of so much more. Arthur would break like that, easily, go mindless and absolutely desperate. But Eames doesn’t know, and Arthur wants this, like this. Arthur's used to getting what he wants.
Arthur gives himself up to it until Eames catches his mouth, sucks on his tongue in time with his strokes. Eames won't keep it up. He likes to hear Arthur too much, and the muffled cries being caught between his lips aren't enough. Eames slows down, snaking one arm under Arthur's armpits and hauls him up, angling deeper, the way Eames knows he likes.
Arthur breaks away, louder now, thrashing. He doesn't need to try to break Eames anymore; he's stopped caring if he does. Now all he wants is more, and faster, and Eames's body surging against him. He says this because he doesn't see any reason not to, not when Eames is moving like that, not when he already has Eames exactly how he wants him. He wants to come. He never wants it to stop. He wants to feel Eames come, inside, wants to feel it, hot and slick, wishes they weren't using a condom so he could have it; Arthur throws his head back, arching to push his cock against Eames's sweat-wet belly for the friction. He feels full and wanting, and he rolls his hips in a jagged circle, all taking and pressure until he comes.
"Fuck," Eames swears. "Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," until it's all one endless word and his breath runs out and he's coming too, collapsing on his side in a messy heap. Arthur kisses him then, more panting breaths than proper kisses, too tired and breathless to keep his lips shut, until Eames has enough of himself again to kiss Arthur back. They'll have to clean up in a moment, Eames careful with the condom as he pulls out, and Arthur pulling faces at the come smeared everywhere, but that's in a moment. This is right now.