Prompt Post No. 12

[inception_anon]

Welcome to Round 12 of the Inception Kink Meme. Prompting System

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• Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and temporarily close again when 4000 comments are reached.
• Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and permanently close to all new prompts

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Re: fill: making partner (11/14) warning: underage

[anonymous]

Eames hasn’t forgotten, the whole time he jerked Arthur off he didn’t forget that Arthur wants Eames to fuck him. But he feels he needs to protest, like seeming too eager makes this even worse than it already is, even though he’s dying for it, sick with want after watching Arthur come for him. “We should stop now, darling, this has already gone too far. Besides, I didn’t exactly come prepared.” While Eames talks Arthur has spread the towel out over the sheets.

Arthur reaches over to the nightstand and grabs something - Eames remembers now that Arthur had set something there when he came in - and presses it into Eames’ hand. Lube. He looks over to the nightstand and sees the shimmer of a condom wrapper there too. “I kind of thought ahead a little.” Arthur’s voice grows just a touch sheepish, but then he’s stretching out on his stomach with the towel under him and looking back at Eames with the most ridiculous bedroom eyes, and Eames can’t help but pinch his bare arse. Arthur muffles a squeal, but has less success with the groan that comes after, when Eames leans in to kiss the tender skin.

“You’re a presumptuous little prat, has anyone ever told you that?” Eames asks, and there’s probably more affection in his voice than he intended.

Arthur giggles a little. “I can’t say anyone’s ever called me a prat before, no.”

“Well they should,” Eames murmurs, and he runs his hand down the endless stretch of skin from Arthur’s shoulders to the backs of his thighs, all smooth lines and ripples of muscle and bone, and the plump, tempting swell of his arse. “They should tell you how gorgeous you are too,” he adds without even thinking, and it makes Arthur smile at him in a way that makes his chest clench.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispers, even more quietly than they’ve been whispering so far. “For all of this. I mean it.”

“Don’t thank me, Arthur. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should just walk away right now.” But Eames knows he can’t stop.

“Don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Eames, don’t make me beg.”

No, Eames will always be the one begging when it comes to Arthur, he’s quite sure of that. “Of course not, darling,” he says, pressing his lips to Arthur’s shoulder in apology, in surrender. He runs his hand over Arthur’s arse again, pulling his cheeks apart just slightly and savoring the catch in his breath. “Just promise you won’t let me hurt you. Promise you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Okay,” Arthur manages, trembling as Eames runs his fingers along the inside of Arthur’s thigh. “I promise.”

Eames coats his fingers with lube, rubbing them together to get it warm, and wonders if maybe he’s actually dreaming. Because for as fucked up as this is - a heartbeat away from finger fucking his boss’s teenage son - Arthur is perfect and pliant and ten times better than anyone Eames could even imagine to dream up in his bed. “Spread your legs a little wider, love,” he says, and slides one wet finger over Arthur’s hole. He knows right then, the way Arthur whimpers and the way he puckers under Eames’ touch, that this is the best mistake he’s probably ever going to make.

He circles slowly, gently, waiting for Arthur’s breathing to even out and the tension in his lower back to drain away. He can feel Arthur easing into it, starting to push back just a little against his hand. Arthur has his head pillowed in his arms and Eames watches the way his fingers ease off their grip on the sheets. “I’m going to slide my finger inside you. Just relax, and breathe, and tell me if it hurts too much.”

He pushes the tip of one finger inside, and fuck, Arthur is so hot and so tight and so velvety, and he gets a little heady thinking about how badly he wants that wrapped around his cock, how good it’s going to feel. He forces himself to focus on Arthur, waits for Arthur’s fingers to unclench from the bedclothes, before he moves any further. He works in slowly, a little at a time, and adds more lube before his finger is all the way in. “Okay?” he asks, and he can hear the strain in his own voice even though he’s trying to ignore how his whole body is burning up right now. Arthur nods, and Eames starts to work him open with a steady, slow rhythm.