[December 20th] Can't Cover It Up
Can't Cover It Up
NC-17
Author : deepsix | Artist : shichiloaf
Arthur is drunk -- far drunker than Eames -- but Eames lets him push him down onto the bed anyway.
It's unfamiliar -- the bedclothes cool, the mattress harder than Eames was expecting, but Arthur climbs up beside him, lazy and self-assured, and it's such a bloody turn-on, the way Arthur curls his fingers behind Eames' neck, the way he leans down over Eames to put their lips together.
Arthur's mouth is soft and sweet under the sharp taste of the rum, and he presses shamelessly against Eames, his body hot and languid through the fabric between them. Arthur licks into him, his tongue sliding over Eames' lower lip and his teeth and pushing against his tongue, and it's a sloppy kiss, too slick already and too little air. Arthur's hard already, nearly humming with it, and he pushes his cock against Eames as they kiss, hips stuttering.
Eames slides a hand up Arthur's side, pulling up Arthur's shirt as he goes. Arthur's skin is soft and warm underneath, and he touches Arthur's ribs, his stomach, the soft hair low on his belly -- and Arthur relaxes into it, pushing against Eames' palm.
There's something both thrilling and terribly awkward about it, unbuckling Arthur's belt and unfastening his trousers, following the bare line of Arthur's abdomen down to his cock -- thrilling for the way Arthur gasps into his mouth, hips jerking into Eames' touch -- awkward for Arthur's family down the hall, the house full of people who don't want to know.
Eames puts his hand in Arthur's pants anyway.
Arthur's cock is hot and damp with sweat and pre-come, and Arthur bites into his mouth, rough and careless. Eames closes his hand around Arthur's cock, and gives it a long, slow squeeze. Arthur shudders with it, touching Eames' wrist, and if their kiss had been sloppy before, it's an utter mess now, Arthur gasping into his mouth and shoving into his hand.
Eames jacks him slow and hard, and it's so bloody hot, the way Arthur rocks his hips into it, the way he pushes his thighs against Eames', the way he twists, tense and unbound, like he can't quite get comfortable. It's just -- the shape of Arthur's body as he resettles against Eames, the weight of his cock, the softness of his mouth, and Eames is unbearably turned on.
It doesn't even last -- Arthur moans sharply into Eames' mouth, his come slicking over Eames' wrist. Arthur's still and quiet and fucking gorgeous when he rolls away from Eames, happy for the first time since they got here.
"Do you want to fuck?" Arthur asks, after a moment. The look he slants Eames is unfocused, and Eames looks at the ceiling instead, suddenly unsure.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks. "You are very drunk."
Arthur reaches over and thumps him. "I brought you home for Christmas," he says. "I think I can consent to your dick in my ass."
"If you say so," says Eames, but he's already unbuttoning his trousers.
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