Prompt Post No. 19

[inceptionsecret]

Welcome to Round 19 of the Inception Kink Meme.

Prompting System

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[anonymous]

Arthur loves this; never admits it, never asks for it, but always comes apart easy as anything when Eames’ tongue touches him there. “Aren’t you, love?” Eames asks again, letting his cheek grit along the flesh of Arthur’s inner thigh. Nudging at his balls, flickering his tongue over them, recalling the first time he tried this on Arthur-Avarua; there was a wine cellar involved-and made him come without even meaning to. He groans, brazen and deep and right up against him, but he doesn’t press for entrance, not yet.

“Oh god, I-yes, okay? Don’t tease, Eames, that’s not-” Eames mouths along the same path, this time venturing just a little higher. “Yes,” Arthur repeats, tortured, hips snapping up piston-quick.

Being rimmed has an instant effect on Arthur. He turns peaceful and pliable, as if all the precise, tension-riddled foundations of him have been abruptly rearranged. Like this, with his thighs falling open and small, hushed sounds of pleasure steadily leaving his lips. Fingers stroking gently through Eames’ hair, body surging rhythmically in time to each stroke of Eames’ tongue against him, inside him. Please, yes, oh god, please leaving him in words hardly more than breaths.

Eames is of the adamant opinion that shame has no place in bed and he doesn’t renege now, licking and groaning and making Arthur quiver with need, keeping at it until his jaw aches and his face is sheened with perspiration. Arthur must be touching himself, Eames is sure of it, leaking onto his stomach, nice and slick before they’ve even really gotten started. “Are you wet?” Eames rasps against his thigh.

The only answer is Arthur’s whine.

“I want you dripping for it. Here,” Eames dips his head lower, working his tongue up into him in a quick, wicked curl, “and here,” reaching to squeeze lightly at his cock.

And Arthur twists above him, says Eames’ name rough-edged.

He must be reaching for lube, since Eames can make out the sound of a small scuffle above. Then the bottle itself bounces off his head.

“Sorry,” mutters Arthur, pushing himself up onto one elbow and scrabbling around with his other hand. “C’mere.” He feeds Eames a dissolving strip of Listerine-even if this child ends up with Eames’ teeth, by God, they’re going to be the most dazzling teeth on the planet if Arthur and his passion for oral hygiene have anything to say about it-and drags him in for an overwhelmingly minty kiss. “You’re way too good at that.”

Eames presses a finger up against him, just stroking lightly until Arthur whines again and tries to angle his lower body just the right way to let him slip in. He could stay like this for a very long time, letting Arthur squirm and sigh and suckle at his neck and lips, sloe-eyed and gasping each time Eames teases his fingertip just past the rim of his hole.

Then Arthur gives a small chuff of laugher. “Foreplay is great and everything, but at this rate? By the time you finally get it in, I won’t even be ovulating anymore.”