Fic: A is to B what water is to fish
Author: HouseAu3
Title: A is to B what water is to fish
Rating: PG
Word Count: 547
Summary: Sex is to love what water is to fish. When he was still a little boy, he already knew about sex well enough to have written such a sentence.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Maybe they own each other.
Author's note: I'm not a native speaker, so there might be mistakes or lack of fluency. I've done my best to improve the language. Hope you like it.
Special thanks to we_reflamingos . She is brilliant and patient and unbelievably kind. Thank you. <3
A is to B what water is to fish.
It was a sweltering summer afternoon. His teacher wrote this sentence down on the blackboard. At that time, Eames was only ten years old. Nonetheless, when his classmates still considered themselves brought by storks or found in trashcans, he already knew about sex well enough to have written down such a sentence:
Sex is to love what water is to fish.
He had never doubted this belief, and his experience only give him more proof of it. No matter how he thought he liked him or her, once they got into bed it always occurred to him that the relationship wouldn’t work out. Suddenly, there were too many elbows and here were too many knees. Getting hit in the face could always efficiently break the mood. Even if he tried to continue under these circumstances, never had his interest lasted until the end.
So he had never had a long-term relationship. Once the sex was not good enough for him, he couldn’t stand the same old drama any longer.
For a long period of time he had been meeting different men and women in bars, getting laid with different people on a daily basis, without love and promise. Simply having sex was more likely to be satisfying than trying to make love. Maybe it’s the lack of distraction, maybe the pressure.
He hadn’t realized that he was wrong until much later.
To be precise, it wasn’t their first time. But when he got Arthur into bed with him in the dream for the first time, when their bodies pressed against each other, Eames suddenly felt like he may not have had real sex before.
There wasn’t a moment he needed to think about where to put his hand and where to make room for Arthur. It was like they had already developed their own sign language. They may have been contesting for dominance, but instead of causing a clash it just made everything much more interesting.
And the complicated personality of Arthur, who was a total control freak and yet was willing to open his legs for him, made every time they had sex feel like the first time. Eames never got tired of the seemingly changeless routine of annoying Arthur and having sex with him afterwards. Even the fight and banter was interesting for him. It felt strangely similar to sex. He was the one who provoked the fight, and Arthur would fight back with fluent yet forceful movement or sharp and snappy words. It felt strangely like making love with Arthur.
There was a time when they were not lovers, when Eames hadn’t stopped seeking others for sex. But after that first time with Arthur, even simple sex with others was awkward. Everything became way too boring. Even when he was halfway through sex he was eager to leave. Sometimes he actually did leave.
Sex is to love what water is to fish.
Then, Eames suddenly realized that maybe the same was true of the reverse.
Love is to sex what water is to fish.
**
“You’re staring at me.”
“Have I ever stopped staring at you?”
“This isn’t the same.”
Eames curved his lips, arms clasping Arthur’s waist. He gently kissed Arthur’s naked back, exploring every inch of his skin.
He almost said that he loved him.
“I know.” Arthur turned to look at him, smiling.
“I know you know.”
Eames brushed his fingers against Arthur’s cheeks. Their lips pressed together.
You are to me what water is to fish.
Title: A is to B what water is to fish
Rating: PG
Word Count: 547
Summary: Sex is to love what water is to fish. When he was still a little boy, he already knew about sex well enough to have written such a sentence.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Maybe they own each other.
Author's note: I'm not a native speaker, so there might be mistakes or lack of fluency. I've done my best to improve the language. Hope you like it.
Special thanks to we_reflamingos . She is brilliant and patient and unbelievably kind. Thank you. <3
A is to B what water is to fish.
It was a sweltering summer afternoon. His teacher wrote this sentence down on the blackboard. At that time, Eames was only ten years old. Nonetheless, when his classmates still considered themselves brought by storks or found in trashcans, he already knew about sex well enough to have written down such a sentence:
Sex is to love what water is to fish.
He had never doubted this belief, and his experience only give him more proof of it. No matter how he thought he liked him or her, once they got into bed it always occurred to him that the relationship wouldn’t work out. Suddenly, there were too many elbows and here were too many knees. Getting hit in the face could always efficiently break the mood. Even if he tried to continue under these circumstances, never had his interest lasted until the end.
So he had never had a long-term relationship. Once the sex was not good enough for him, he couldn’t stand the same old drama any longer.
For a long period of time he had been meeting different men and women in bars, getting laid with different people on a daily basis, without love and promise. Simply having sex was more likely to be satisfying than trying to make love. Maybe it’s the lack of distraction, maybe the pressure.
He hadn’t realized that he was wrong until much later.
To be precise, it wasn’t their first time. But when he got Arthur into bed with him in the dream for the first time, when their bodies pressed against each other, Eames suddenly felt like he may not have had real sex before.
There wasn’t a moment he needed to think about where to put his hand and where to make room for Arthur. It was like they had already developed their own sign language. They may have been contesting for dominance, but instead of causing a clash it just made everything much more interesting.
And the complicated personality of Arthur, who was a total control freak and yet was willing to open his legs for him, made every time they had sex feel like the first time. Eames never got tired of the seemingly changeless routine of annoying Arthur and having sex with him afterwards. Even the fight and banter was interesting for him. It felt strangely similar to sex. He was the one who provoked the fight, and Arthur would fight back with fluent yet forceful movement or sharp and snappy words. It felt strangely like making love with Arthur.
There was a time when they were not lovers, when Eames hadn’t stopped seeking others for sex. But after that first time with Arthur, even simple sex with others was awkward. Everything became way too boring. Even when he was halfway through sex he was eager to leave. Sometimes he actually did leave.
Sex is to love what water is to fish.
Then, Eames suddenly realized that maybe the same was true of the reverse.
Love is to sex what water is to fish.
**
“You’re staring at me.”
“Have I ever stopped staring at you?”
“This isn’t the same.”
Eames curved his lips, arms clasping Arthur’s waist. He gently kissed Arthur’s naked back, exploring every inch of his skin.
He almost said that he loved him.
“I know.” Arthur turned to look at him, smiling.
“I know you know.”
Eames brushed his fingers against Arthur’s cheeks. Their lips pressed together.
You are to me what water is to fish.