Prompt Post No. 6

[inception_anon]

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Re: Filled: Table Stakes. Arthur/Eames, WiP 5/?

[anonymous]

He's had a whole week of Eames barely talking to him to figure out how spectacularly he's fucked things up, this time, and to add insult to injury, Yusuf had shown up early, the morning after the bet had been made, looking like he'd spent maybe an hour passed out in a gutter somewhere after a full night's drinking. Eames is the only one who can get Yusuf to drink at all - nevermind that much.

"You know, you should have just asked him," Yusuf had said reproachfully as he pulled spare clothes out of the bottom drawer of his desk.

Yusuf hasn't said much else to Arthur this week, either, and all of Arthur's usual injection sites are now defunct due to bruising. He's been reduced to putting the cannula in the back of his hand, which is annoying because needle marks shouldn't be that visible.

The one thing Yusuf had said, after three days of silence, had been; "And if Harris gets to him, if he hurts him, Arthur, it's your body they're never going to find."

He'd sounded utterly matter of fact about it, but also absolutely convinced that Eames would go with Arthur on the Harris job, which Arthur had taken to mean that Eames wasn't any closer to cracking Mr. Vincenzo's security than he was.

He knows Eames is good - hell, he's paid up on plenty of bets before - but somehow he hadn't really expected to have to make good on this one. He should have immediately taken it off the table when Eames named his stakes - that was probably what Eames had been going for, in fact - but he does actually, honest to god, need Eames with him on the Harris job, to the point where he's not sure how he's going to get it done without him. Also, he had made the bet on what he'd thought was a sure thing - he'd had a line on one of the Marshals, except that was of course the one who just happened to be promoted out of the field exactly when Arthur planned to use the dirt he'd gathered on him.

Eames' counteroffer had been delivered with a whisper straight into Arthur's ear, but it had - and still has - more or less a sledgehammer effect on his gut. They've been dancing around this for months and Arthur had frankly expected to be allowed to dance a little longer.

And yet... at the same time, the words are indelibly impressed on his mind.

"If you win, love, we'll do the Harris job your way," Eames had said, and Arthur remembers wondering at the time why Eames had needed to come so close just to reaffirm the terms of the bet. "If I win, sweetheart... I get to fuck you. And not only do I get to fuck you, I'll plug you, and you'll have to walk around for a whole day with my come inside you, darling." Arthur remembers his mouth going dry and his heart going a mile a minute and he remembers nodding.

"Darling," Eames says now and reaches for him, and at this point, Arthur has no choices, so Arthur goes.

+++

Eames is a rough kisser; he pulls Arthur in by the back of his neck and holds on as he ravages his mouth, tongue and lips and teeth turning Arthur into a shivering mess under Eames' hands, sloppy and breathing hard, eyes closed and Eames doesn't seem to mind.

He'd been asleep when Eames showed up, so he's wearing a pair of PJ bottoms and an overlarge t-shirt, neither of which seem to stop Eames from putting his hands anywhere he damn well pleases. Arthur makes a soft protesting noise when he feels Eames' hand snake up his side, underneath his t-shirt and Eames groans into his neck, hands holding on to Arthur roughly, possessively and Arthur has to fight not to twist out of that hold, has to fight not to disappear without trace when Eames holds onto him like he's waiting for Arthur to melt into his grasp.