Prompt Post No. 19

[inceptionsecret]

Welcome to Round 19 of the Inception Kink Meme.

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[anonymous]

“No brooding.” Arthur actually bites him, quick little teeth catching at his earlobe, and then lets his forehead rest against Eames’. “I want you to keep smiling. Do that for me, okay?” Arthur with his skinny legs dangling, hands twisting in Eames’ hair, mouth sweet and open for him.

Eames nips at him, kisses him over and over, can never get enough of kissing him.

“Can’t believe it,” he mumbles into the soft dip of Arthur’s throat. “You’re sure?”

He feels the hum of it against his lips when Arthur laughs. “Very.”

Loosening the towel, Eames touches him softly, the slender lines of Arthur’s body as familiar to him as his own. He strokes slowly along the insides of his thighs, the dark patch of hair above his groin, up his middle. Arthur’s stomach is flat and hard as ever beneath his palm. “Jesus.”

“Trying to imagine a baby in there?”

“I really can’t quite get my head around it,” Eames confesses. Getting a good grip on Arthur’s arse, on the other hand, that’s something he can manage quite well. He’s already gearing up to lift him onto the tabletop, bearing him back and trying to remember which of the cupboards has the olive oil, but Arthur can apparently read his mind.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not explaining to our kid that they were conceived on a breakfast table while I got jam in my hair.”

“Who actually knows how they were conceived anyway?” Eames demands.

“On a picnic blanket, Fourth of July,” Arthur says instantly.

Eames stares.

“My parents used to start talking about that kind of thing when they wanted to get me out of their hair,” Arthur explains.

“That’s actually sort of brilliant,” Eames admits. “But point taken. Up you get. I think I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold, aren’t I?”

“That’s for when you actually get married, genius.”

“Something worth reading up on, then?” He says it to be flip, but it isn’t. For a good long while, Arthur doesn’t move a muscle.

“Yeah,” Arthur says then, soft against his mouth. “Yeah, okay.”

His hand slides so easily around Eames’, cool skin and long fingers that would look even lovelier with a ring wrapped round one of them. Eames can’t even blame his thoughts on foreign hormones this time. He must be getting old and soft for finding this all idyllic instead of perilous, setting down roots and tying himself to another person so intimately, the sort of choices that are damning in the liabilities they create. They haven’t discussed it, but they’ve both seen what happens when people like them try to reap the rewards of their work and slip free of the consequences. Even though he and Arthur have toned their antics down several notches over the past couple years without too much backlash, even though anyone who comes after one of them is going to end up faced with the both of them, Eames’ inner cynic isn’t ready to stop cautioning him quite yet.

But at least now, as he’s letting Arthur strip him bare and lead him back into bed, he’s more than happy to give that part of himself a solid kick in the pants and have done with it.