Prompt Post No. 14

[inceptionsecret]

Welcome to Round 14 of the Inception Kink Meme. This post will be closed to new prompts once it reaches five thousand comments.

New Prompting System

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• Forty-eight hours

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FILL: Acutus Id Verberat (whip it quick) [5/9]

[anonymous]

After about a week, Eames stops thinking about it all the time. He finds a nice, complex contract and concentrates on his job, instead of remembering the way Arthur pushed back on his cock, eager, but never easy, wanting Eames, and wanting to fight for every moment of it.

The contract is good for him, keeps him occupied, instead of continually looking for a certain top-story man. Except that he does far more preliminary work than the contract really needs, finding every excuse to wander about the richest neighborhoods in Ankh-Morpork. Except for the way he leaves every single one of his rings lined up neatly on the nightstand; ruby, gold, emerald, onyx, sapphire, marcasite.

But he's not really thinking of Arthur all that much, so when he comes back to his rooms and finds Arthur already there, Eames pauses by the door in surprise. Arthur is idly cleaning his nails with a small knife, back against the headboard and legs sprawled in front of him on Eames' bed. He glances up when Eames comes in, and the knife vanishes.

"What's this?" Eames says, after a moment, when his heart has slowed somewhat and he is able to ease his hand away from the hilt of his own knife. He catches sight of Arthur’s boots, set neatly next to the bed, and for some reason, that sets him at ease more than anything else.

Arthur just stares at him, as if he's waiting for Eames to decipher the obvious. Finally, he says, "I said we'd do it again, last time." He frowns abruptly, as though something has just occurred to him. "Do you not want to?"

"No, no," Eames hastens to assure him, "I want to, right enough." He quickly strips off his belt and various attached knives and poisons and small crossbow bolts. Arthur smiles his lock-picking, safe-cracking smile, and Eames goes to him at once, utterly charmed.

This time, Arthur barely lets Eames lay a hand on him, laughing and sliding away from every touch, like smoke. He pushes Eames down on the bed, more gently than Eames would have thought possible, and he rides him, slowly, slowly, kissing him like the fucking is secondary to mapping out the inside of Eames' mouth.

Afterwards, he gets out of the bed and dresses, slicks his hair back and straightens his collar while Eames watches, silent, from the bed.

Before he goes, he kisses Eames and says clearly, "We'll do this again," like he's bestowing a gift, like a promise.