Caviar and Cigarettes [part 3/4]
Title: Caviar and Cigarettes
Author: my_0wn_madness
Beta: fuzzyniffler
Overall Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jailbait!Arthur (Arthur's 16-17 to Eames' 27), toys (vibrator), slight and very brief breath play
Characters: Arthur/Eames
Summary: When the landlord-Eames, a man of British heritage, a sculpted body and approximately 30 years of age-answers the door, Arthur knows his search for an apartment is over.
Word Count: 27,355
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine in any way, shape or form. The title belongs to Queen.
Author's Notes: This is probably the most shameless thing I've ever written and I blame it on fuzzyniffler . She asked me for a jailbait!Arthur fic (yes, I made her edit her own story) and… Well, this monster was born. It's completely finished, but due to its ridiculous length, I'm going to post it in parts. It'll probably be updated every other day. … God, so shameless. But I hope you enjoy :) <3
Part One | Part Two
|.|.|
Arthur realized the next morning that Eames' alarm was, indeed, 'Don't Stop Me Now'. He jumped at the volume of the song, his eyes snapping open. The room was still dark, far too dark for-he craned his neck, careful not to move out of Eames' loose grasp around his hip-10:08 in the morning. It was then that he realized how opaque Eames' curtains were.
"Fuck," Eames growled against his back and Arthur couldn't help but settle back against the bed, chuckling lazily.
"So it was your alarm I heard yesterday morning," he mumbled, his voice low and groggy with sleep.
"Forgot to turn it off," Eames drawled but didn't make any movement to stop the alarm. His forehead was pressed between Arthur's shoulder blades and his warmth was so comfortable. Arthur shifted his legs a bit and closed his eyes, his mind almost immediately slipping into a lazy daze.
"And here," he murmured tiredly, "I thought you were trying to woo me by waking me up with Freddie Mercury."
Eames laughed softly, the sound muffled and endearing against Arthur's skin. "Sorry to disappoint."
"I'm afraid this isn't going to work out after all," Arthur continued teasingly, grinning very subtly. Eames only chuckled quietly in return, the sound lower than the last. Arthur felt him shift and press his lips between his shoulders. "Also, can I ask why your alarm is set for 10:08?"
"Another ad meeting."
Arthur still didn't know what that meant. "No, I mean… Why not, you know, 10:05 or 10:10?"
"10:08 lets me listen to the entire song and then get up with just enough time for me to leisurely get ready."
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes and instead pressed his body back a bit further into Eames'. The way Eames' arm wrapped around this body made him feel anchored and secure, something that was a little too addicting because Arthur, in that moment, couldn't even imagine getting up. "What's an ad meeting?"
Eames inhaled deeply against his back before responding, his words coming out on the exhale, "I'm trying to get my foot in the door in the advertising business."
It was then that Arthur realized just how little he knew about Eames. How little Eames knew about him. He frowned, his fingers tenderly touching the muscles off Eames' forearm and threading alongside the protruding veins. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to know everything he could about Eames, everything there was to know, everything Eames would let him know.
Now that he finally found himself in Eames' bed, in Eames' life, it was time to really take advantage of that.
"Do you wanna get lunch today?" he tried carefully, turning his head in the slightest to try and look at Eames. It didn't work; the man's head was bowed too far and pressed to his skin. "I… We can talk about things. Not about things, like what I came to talk about last night, but actual things. I just realized I don't know very many things about you."
Eames peeked up at him, those gray-green eyes dark and glazed with sleep. His light brown hair was matted messily across his forehead and sticking up chaotically across his scalp and Arthur couldn't help but smile gently.
"How about I make you lunch and we can talk at the table," Eames suggested gently and straightened, touching Arthur's hair gently.
"You can cook?"
Eames chuckled quietly and leaned forward to kiss Arthur's temple gently, mumbling, "Just one of the things you don't know about me."
|.|.|
Eames had grown up in an eastern town of England, one that he swore Arthur wouldn't recognize so didn't bother specifying. He apparently had gotten into his fair share of trouble-so much so that his parents almost grounded him permanently during his early years of high school. That had been all the times Eames had needed to become rather talented at cooking-especially at cooking chicken marsala, as Arthur found out that afternoon.
Like Arthur, Eames had moved out of his parents place at an early age-"That's why I didn't think twice about leasing the upstairs apartment to you. Against my better judgment, no doubt." With a wink-except, unlike Arthur, he hadn't leaned on his parents for support. He instead made a "noble" living through drug dealing in the black market.
"It must be obvious as to why I fled to America," Eames added amusedly, eyeing Arthur from over his wine glass. Arthur noticed then that there was still something so impossibly classy about Eames, unfortunately discolored shirt and history aside. "Went to school for a few years here, really took a liking to advertising. Been chasing that dream ever since."
"Why advertising?"
Eames shrugged. "Advertising is a complicated art. You need to pin point just what your audience is looking for and attack it mercilessly. You need to make it so your client simply can't say no." He took another sip of his wine before setting the glass down, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers lightly on the table as he continued, "There's a psychological aspect to it and that's what a lot of people don't realize."
Arthur took the last bite of his chicken and then a sip of his own wine. It was dry and perfect for him, which had made Eames' brow cock with disbelief. "So you're out to save the advertising industry?"
A grin broke out on Eames' lips at that, one that was near impossible to tell if it was mocking or not. "Precisely."
"Well thank god for that," Arthur chuckled quietly in return and set his fork down. "That was very good, by the way."
"Mm, thank you. Again, I had a lot of time." Eames stood up to grab his plate and reached across for Arthur's. As he turned to put them in the sink he said, "Your turn. What don't I know about you?"
Arthur licked his lower lip thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I've been here in New York all my life. I never made a living in the black market-" Eames scoffed amusedly and Arthur smiled before continuing, "- My parents are okay, I guess. We just didn't see eye-to-eye on many things, and they were more than okay with me moving out. They were also more than okay with paying my rent."
He shrugged and watched as Eames turned back towards the table and slipped back into his seat. His fingers curled loosely around the base of his wine glass as those crisp eyes settled attentively upon Arthur. Arthur wasn't sure of how to feel beneath those eyes-he couldn't recall if Eames had ever looked at him so intently for so long-and when his heart flipped, he couldn't tell if it was from anxiety or appreciation.
He smiled, nevertheless, and continued, "Uh, let's see. I'll be seventeen in less than a month, I have one year of high school left. I'm not sure of where I want to go for college, but I know that I'm interested in architecture."
Approval flashed in Eames' eyes and it made Arthur's insides warm up. "Any specific type?" Eames asked interestedly.
"I really like Roman architecture," Arthur said, his eyes slipping up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. "They were the original inventors of concrete, so they were able to start building domes and shapes of that sort since they didn't have to use corbelling or post and lintel for roofing. I also rather enjoy the variety that comes with Roman architecture. They built off of Grecian elements but managed to add Etruscan factors, creating something that was their own."
Only when he was finished did Arthur realize that he probably just bored the fuck out of Eames with that ridiculous rant. He laughed sheepishly and looked back to Eames, utterly shocked to find that the man was still watching him intently.
"I think intelligence is sexy," Eames murmured as if reading Arthur's mind and smirking subtly.
Arthur's ears burned though he managed a small grin in return, "As do I."
And it only took a few hours for Arthur to realize that Eames was probably the most intelligent person he had ever met. He wasn't sure exactly how book smart Eames was, per se, but it was obvious that Eames was smart in what really mattered. Eames was experienced and Arthur only just noticed how there seemed to be a very subtle calculation about him, like his mind was always ticking, always taking in his surroundings and adapting to them.
That was what made Arthur ask, hours later with them both on Eames' patio, smoking a cigarette, "Can we go somewhere sometime? It doesn't have to be a date, if you would rather not, but I would like to go out with you sometime."
Because he wanted to see the way Eames worked in some place that wasn't as familiar as their home.
There was a long pause as Eames took a drag and then parted his lips, allowing the smoke to wander carelessly from his mouth. When he tilted his head and glanced sideways, he murmured quietly, "I'll take you out for your birthday. How does that sound?"
That sounded wonderful.
|.|.|
Thunder split through the sky one Friday night, pulling Arthur gracelessly from his sleep. He couldn't see within the darkness of Eames' room. He couldn't see his hands in front of his face and, when he turned his head, blinking blearily, he couldn't see Eames' sleeping face behind him. He settled again and exhaled quietly, smiling faintly at the way the light patter of rain began to tap across the glass of Eames' window.
Rainy nights were his favorite. He loved the background noise of the drops on his window and the roll of thunder outside. This was his first rainy night with Eames and he pressed further into the man's warmth surrounding him.
He couldn't stop smiling.
"Eames isn't my name," came lazily and drawled from behind him. Arthur glanced back again though it was useless. The thunder must have woken Eames as well.
"Hn?" he hummed quietly, relaxing again as he closed his eyes. His voice was scratchy against his throat with sleep.
He heard Eames' lips smack quietly, as if he was wetting them. "'M like you… Eames is my last name."
Arthur paused, sliding his fingers across the tendons in the back of Eames' hands. "What's your first name?" he asked gently.
There was a silence behind him, one that was tinted with a hint of hesitation. Arthur held his breath, as if he was afraid he'd miss it. Eames' response was nearly inaudible when he breathed, "William."
And, in that moment, Arthur felt like Eames had told him something important, something undisclosed to anyone else.
|.|.|
Soon, it didn't matter if it was Saturday or Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday or any other week day; Arthur stayed in Eames' apartment nearly every day of the week. At first, Arthur made sure Eames asked him to stay but, soon, they both just assumed that Arthur would. Sometimes Arthur wouldn't, however reluctantly, but those were only days when he actually had something important going on in school. Which was rare.
So they woke up every weekday to Freddie Mercury's voice, groaned and cursed the morning before Arthur dragged himself from bed to trudge upstairs and get ready for school.
After a few days, it became custom for Eames to kiss him gently before he left. That always made his day just a bit more bearable.
Then Arthur would go to school and Eames would sometimes go to the advertising firm, some other times he did things unknown to Arthur, and then they would reassemble for dinner, for the night.
It was comfortable. Eventually Arthur didn't feel so young when he sat at Eames' kitchen table and did his homework while Eames "assassinated some wankers" on his Xbox 360. Arthur wasn't sure of how he missed the fact that Eames had a 360, but he had, and it made Eames even more endearing. Sometimes, while Arthur did his homework, Eames would sit across from him and splay out some ad prototypes and mark them up with a sharpie all the while mumbling to himself under his breath.
Arthur was finding more and more out about Eames with each passing day. The most prominent thing, perhaps, was Eames' playful and teasing side that he hadn't seen while trying to… seduce, court, whatever, him. Arthur assumed it was because Eames had purposefully controlled himself in his company during that time and, now that Arthur was there more or less every day, that control was forgotten and unnecessary.
For example, one night while Arthur was sat at the kitchen table and Eames was playing his 360, Eames turned on Queen's 'Another One Bites the Dust'. And sang along whenever he won.
That night, more than ever, Arthur was sure that he was in love.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and they still hadn't fucked. That was mainly Eames' doing and, while it was disheartening, Arthur knew that Eames was just as reluctant as he was. He didn't say so, of course, but about two days out of the week, Arthur would wake up in the middle of the night with Eames' erection grinding against his ass.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and the most they had done was hand jobs, dry humping, the like.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and, after they slipped into Eames' bed, Eames slipped on top of him and murmured low and huskily, "As an early birthday present, will you let me suck that lovely dick of yours?"
Another example of just how Eames' control was discarded.
Arthur glanced down briefly at those full, pink lips and nearly moaned, "Yes."
Eames smirked very lightly, kissed Arthur once, and then slid down his body to easily get rid of the sweatpants draped across his prominent hip bones. Arthur automatically spread his legs for Eames to settle between, his breathing already heavy and his mind already dizzy with want. His underwear wasn't pulled off just yet-Eames leaned over and mouthed him through his briefs, lips tauntingly warm and damp.
Firm hands held Arthur's hips down as they automatically arched for more and Eames didn't give him more. Eames made him shiver by just mouthing at his cock through the thin cotton, made him drape his arm over his glazing eyes, made him moan breathlessly.
Then finally, christ, finally, Eames shifted easily to get rid of his maddening underwear. He felt Eames straddle one of his knees. Arthur peeked out from behind his arm just in time to see Eames grip his hips again and then lean over, slide his tongue up the underside of Arthur's cock. His moan fell to pieces as it dripped through his lips.
This was already the best birthday present ever.
Eames' mouth was hot and wet and Arthur's spine arched as the head of his cock was enveloped in it. The heat spread across the plains of Arthur's skin and made his fingers curl tightly within the bed sheets. Each breath scraped against his throat and he stared down at Eames with dark irises, watching as those lips slid down further.
His toes curled as his one leg automatically bent away from Eames' body and those lips, that mouth, that heat began to move and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Eames watched Arthur as he writhed and unhooked his fingers from the sheets to rake them back through Eames' hair. He breathed Eames' name huskily, his head spinning with the new and heavy heat and then Eames swallowed him down and Arthur couldn't breathe for a long moment.
There was a heavy weight on his other knee-a heavy hot weight that was kneading harshly against his skin and when Arthur opened his eyes, he saw Eames' hips grinding down onto his leg desperately. They groaned simultaneously, but that only made Arthur's breath catch and his leg buck up into Eames' cock. Eames moaned again and god damn it if that happened one more time, Arthur wouldn't last.
Fuck, he wouldn't last anyway. The familiar feeling filled his stomach easily because Eames' lips were god sent, talented and that tongue pressed against him.
He jolted. "E-Eames, close-"
It wasn't much of a warning, but it was a miracle that he got one out at all because he then came into Eames' mouth, his orgasm racking his body, arching his spine and his eyes were clenched shut as he moaned breathlessly.
He shuddered violently at the cold once Eames' lips withdrew and the pressure against his knee dulled as he breathed shallowly. Arthur didn't notice or see the way Eames' hips jolted when he came. He didn't feel the wet heat against his skin.
When he finally cracked his eyes open, his breathing having calmed and deepened immensely, he saw Eames hovering over his body, his pupils blown and lips red, wet, swollen. There were beads of come in their corners, but only for a moment before Eames' tongue slipped out and licked them away. Arthur had to reach up and drag him down just to kiss those lips, just to feel them so hot and spent against his own. He tasted a hint of himself upon them.
"Happy early birthday," Eames whispered huskily into his lips.
"Without a doubt," Arthur breathed tiredly in response, "the best birthday present I have ever received."
Eames pulled away, his red lips curled in a pleased smile. His fingers were trembling subtly and warm as he brushed some of the hair away from Arthur's damp hairline. "That's not all. I promise."
|.|.|
"Does 'bros before hoes' mean anything to you?" Ariadne had said during passing time the next Friday, Arthur's birthday.
"I tried, Ari," Arthur had sighed in response, pulling his books from his locker and slipping them into his messenger bag, "but he said he can only make it work for me."
"Or that he only wants to make it work for you." Despite the words, there hadn't been any trace of spite within them.
"I haven't even met him," she had continued with an exasperated sigh. "You're ditching me on your birthday for some guy that I haven't even met."
"Birthday night."
Now, Arthur was leading Ariadne to Eames' apartment. He had sent a text during last period that he would bring her over for a bit after school but promised that she would leave before five. Arthur wasn't sure what Eames' plans were, but he didn't want to ruin them at all. Eames had responded easily enough before asking just what Ariadne knew about them. Arthur had sensed Eames' previous insecurity just through the question, so he responded that she only knew of Eames from before they started doing anything, back when Arthur couldn't talk or think about anything else. Back when he literally didn't want anything else.
… Well, those standards still held true today. And he still talked about Eames a lot, but not as much and it wasn't like Ariadne would actually tell anyone. Though he had managed to downplay just how many nights he spent at Eames' place.
Anyway, when they stood outside Eames' door, Ariadne fixed her hair, adjusted her shirt and said playfully, "What if he doesn't like me? I'll be ruined."
Arthur chuckled and waited for her to be done picking at her hair before messing it up again. "Hush, he'll love you."
He did. And he was an utter gentleman, so much so that he inclined his head upon meeting her and raised her hand to his lips. Raised her hand to his lips, what the fuck. Arthur made a mental note to call him on that later and demand a kiss to his hand.
The three of them ended up curled on Eames' couch, each with a controller in hand and playing some shooter Arthur had forgotten the name of. Arthur had honestly never played before but Eames downright refused to believe so with how good Arthur was with the sniper rifle. Both Eames and Ariadne ended up cheating by looking at Arthur's screen to see just what building he had hidden on so they could maneuver about to stay out of Arthur's range.
But then Arthur just pulled out his shotgun and chased them down instead. And hit them each in the shoulder.
Ariadne hit him right back while Eames laughed and then leaned in to press a kiss to his hair. Arthur's heart warmed and he supposed he could excuse the hand kiss.
It was around five in the evening when they trotted back up to Arthur's apartment to grab Ariadne's things.
"Oh!" she said excitedly and ran over to her school bag once they stepped inside. She out pulled a small, wrapped box and hid it behind her back as if Arthur didn't already see. "I almost forgot your birthday present."
Arthur smiled and waited until she offered the box before taking it. He eyed the red and black plaid wrapping paper before humming his approval.
Ariadne laughed quietly and clasped her hands around her back, rocking on her toes. "I thought it suited you. Of course, I had the urge to use the Spongebob Christmas paper as well, but I figured I should be nice on your birthday."
She watched as he peeled away the paper with a careful precision, making sure not to actually tear it. This drove her insane and he knew it; why else do it?
When Arthur began to fold the paper to set it aside, she ripped it from his hands and sighed, "Just open it."
He did with an amused smirk. Inside, cradled neatly in folded, red tissue paper, was a silky, black tie. It was soft and smooth beneath his touch, so smooth that its fabric caught briefly in the ridges of his fingertips.
"I know you and I are always talking about how men in suits are hotter than hell, so I thought you could use a nice tie," Ariadne explained with a pleased tone as Arthur set the box down and held the tie up to his torso. It looked wonderful against the white of his button up shirt. "Wear it around Eames sometime," she added and winked. "If he hasn't fucked you yet, he will most certainly have to then.
"Or he'll tie you up with it," she continued after a moment's thought and Arthur's grin slipped into a crooked grin.
"I'll wear it tonight," he murmured and slung it over his shoulder before pulling her into a hug. "Thank you, I love it. It's the classiest tie I've ever seen."
Ariadne laughed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Damn right it is," she mumbled into his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing." She withdrew one arm and did something, Arthur couldn't quite tell what with her still in his arms, but he heard rustling and soon something was being slid into his back pocket before she purred easily, "Just in case."
When he pulled away, he found a few condoms stuffed in his pocket.
|.|.|
Arthur went back downstairs about a half hour after Ariadne left-he debated changing his outfit, fixed his hair, decided that he wanted to change his outfit, brushed his teeth, decided that he wanted to change back, flattened his shirt several times in the mirror, slipped on the black tie, smirked at his reflection and then decided he was satisfied-and found that Eames had made a wonderful pasta dish for dinner.
He also found that, throughout their entire meal, Eames' gaze repeatedly fell to the black tie fixed beneath his collar. A few times, Arthur saw those eyes follow the tie down, examine the way it laid so nicely against his white shirt, and made a mental note to get Ariadne something nice. Or at least buy her lunch sometime.
It was around six-thirty when Eames finally told Arthur to wait in the living room before going to his bedroom to get Arthur's present. When Eames came back, his hands were behind his back and his lips were curled upwards in the slightest.
"Close your eyes," he mumbled quietly when he was close enough. "Your present's a bit a bit wonky so I didn't know how to wrap it."
Arthur did so and held out his hands. He was smiling and he only smiled wider as he caught Eames' scent. Spice. Crisp.
"Here's the first part of your gift." Something was soon placed in his hand and it felt like a card of sorts. It was light, smooth to the touch as he closed his hand around it experimentally.
"Open your eyes," Eames prompted gently.
He found an ID in his hand, one with his face, his name, his address and his birthday, only set one year earlier. If he couldn't find it in himself to stop smiling earlier, he most certainly couldn't now and he laughed quietly, looked up at Eames who was eyeing him fondly.
"Why do you need me to be eighteen?"
"The second part of your gift. Close your eyes again."
Honestly, Arthur wasn't sure of what he expected Eames to place in his hand then. Certainly, everything sexual came to mind-maybe they were going to a sex store, a sex club, a strip club-and the more he thought, the more his heart raced. But something like cardstock slipped into his hand and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was smooth, definitely paper of some sort, but what the hell-
"Open."
In Arthur's hand was a ticket. A ticket to an 18+ show at a bar downtown that started at eight.
A ticket to see a band entitled King: A Queen cover band.
Arthur nearly crumpled the ticket in his hand when he grabbed Eames' collar and yanked him in for a demanding kiss.
Part Four
Author: my_0wn_madness
Beta: fuzzyniffler
Overall Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Jailbait!Arthur (Arthur's 16-17 to Eames' 27), toys (vibrator), slight and very brief breath play
Characters: Arthur/Eames
Summary: When the landlord-Eames, a man of British heritage, a sculpted body and approximately 30 years of age-answers the door, Arthur knows his search for an apartment is over.
Word Count: 27,355
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine in any way, shape or form. The title belongs to Queen.
Author's Notes: This is probably the most shameless thing I've ever written and I blame it on fuzzyniffler . She asked me for a jailbait!Arthur fic (yes, I made her edit her own story) and… Well, this monster was born. It's completely finished, but due to its ridiculous length, I'm going to post it in parts. It'll probably be updated every other day. … God, so shameless. But I hope you enjoy :) <3
Part One | Part Two
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Arthur realized the next morning that Eames' alarm was, indeed, 'Don't Stop Me Now'. He jumped at the volume of the song, his eyes snapping open. The room was still dark, far too dark for-he craned his neck, careful not to move out of Eames' loose grasp around his hip-10:08 in the morning. It was then that he realized how opaque Eames' curtains were.
"Fuck," Eames growled against his back and Arthur couldn't help but settle back against the bed, chuckling lazily.
"So it was your alarm I heard yesterday morning," he mumbled, his voice low and groggy with sleep.
"Forgot to turn it off," Eames drawled but didn't make any movement to stop the alarm. His forehead was pressed between Arthur's shoulder blades and his warmth was so comfortable. Arthur shifted his legs a bit and closed his eyes, his mind almost immediately slipping into a lazy daze.
"And here," he murmured tiredly, "I thought you were trying to woo me by waking me up with Freddie Mercury."
Eames laughed softly, the sound muffled and endearing against Arthur's skin. "Sorry to disappoint."
"I'm afraid this isn't going to work out after all," Arthur continued teasingly, grinning very subtly. Eames only chuckled quietly in return, the sound lower than the last. Arthur felt him shift and press his lips between his shoulders. "Also, can I ask why your alarm is set for 10:08?"
"Another ad meeting."
Arthur still didn't know what that meant. "No, I mean… Why not, you know, 10:05 or 10:10?"
"10:08 lets me listen to the entire song and then get up with just enough time for me to leisurely get ready."
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes and instead pressed his body back a bit further into Eames'. The way Eames' arm wrapped around this body made him feel anchored and secure, something that was a little too addicting because Arthur, in that moment, couldn't even imagine getting up. "What's an ad meeting?"
Eames inhaled deeply against his back before responding, his words coming out on the exhale, "I'm trying to get my foot in the door in the advertising business."
It was then that Arthur realized just how little he knew about Eames. How little Eames knew about him. He frowned, his fingers tenderly touching the muscles off Eames' forearm and threading alongside the protruding veins. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to know everything he could about Eames, everything there was to know, everything Eames would let him know.
Now that he finally found himself in Eames' bed, in Eames' life, it was time to really take advantage of that.
"Do you wanna get lunch today?" he tried carefully, turning his head in the slightest to try and look at Eames. It didn't work; the man's head was bowed too far and pressed to his skin. "I… We can talk about things. Not about things, like what I came to talk about last night, but actual things. I just realized I don't know very many things about you."
Eames peeked up at him, those gray-green eyes dark and glazed with sleep. His light brown hair was matted messily across his forehead and sticking up chaotically across his scalp and Arthur couldn't help but smile gently.
"How about I make you lunch and we can talk at the table," Eames suggested gently and straightened, touching Arthur's hair gently.
"You can cook?"
Eames chuckled quietly and leaned forward to kiss Arthur's temple gently, mumbling, "Just one of the things you don't know about me."
|.|.|
Eames had grown up in an eastern town of England, one that he swore Arthur wouldn't recognize so didn't bother specifying. He apparently had gotten into his fair share of trouble-so much so that his parents almost grounded him permanently during his early years of high school. That had been all the times Eames had needed to become rather talented at cooking-especially at cooking chicken marsala, as Arthur found out that afternoon.
Like Arthur, Eames had moved out of his parents place at an early age-"That's why I didn't think twice about leasing the upstairs apartment to you. Against my better judgment, no doubt." With a wink-except, unlike Arthur, he hadn't leaned on his parents for support. He instead made a "noble" living through drug dealing in the black market.
"It must be obvious as to why I fled to America," Eames added amusedly, eyeing Arthur from over his wine glass. Arthur noticed then that there was still something so impossibly classy about Eames, unfortunately discolored shirt and history aside. "Went to school for a few years here, really took a liking to advertising. Been chasing that dream ever since."
"Why advertising?"
Eames shrugged. "Advertising is a complicated art. You need to pin point just what your audience is looking for and attack it mercilessly. You need to make it so your client simply can't say no." He took another sip of his wine before setting the glass down, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers lightly on the table as he continued, "There's a psychological aspect to it and that's what a lot of people don't realize."
Arthur took the last bite of his chicken and then a sip of his own wine. It was dry and perfect for him, which had made Eames' brow cock with disbelief. "So you're out to save the advertising industry?"
A grin broke out on Eames' lips at that, one that was near impossible to tell if it was mocking or not. "Precisely."
"Well thank god for that," Arthur chuckled quietly in return and set his fork down. "That was very good, by the way."
"Mm, thank you. Again, I had a lot of time." Eames stood up to grab his plate and reached across for Arthur's. As he turned to put them in the sink he said, "Your turn. What don't I know about you?"
Arthur licked his lower lip thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I've been here in New York all my life. I never made a living in the black market-" Eames scoffed amusedly and Arthur smiled before continuing, "- My parents are okay, I guess. We just didn't see eye-to-eye on many things, and they were more than okay with me moving out. They were also more than okay with paying my rent."
He shrugged and watched as Eames turned back towards the table and slipped back into his seat. His fingers curled loosely around the base of his wine glass as those crisp eyes settled attentively upon Arthur. Arthur wasn't sure of how to feel beneath those eyes-he couldn't recall if Eames had ever looked at him so intently for so long-and when his heart flipped, he couldn't tell if it was from anxiety or appreciation.
He smiled, nevertheless, and continued, "Uh, let's see. I'll be seventeen in less than a month, I have one year of high school left. I'm not sure of where I want to go for college, but I know that I'm interested in architecture."
Approval flashed in Eames' eyes and it made Arthur's insides warm up. "Any specific type?" Eames asked interestedly.
"I really like Roman architecture," Arthur said, his eyes slipping up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. "They were the original inventors of concrete, so they were able to start building domes and shapes of that sort since they didn't have to use corbelling or post and lintel for roofing. I also rather enjoy the variety that comes with Roman architecture. They built off of Grecian elements but managed to add Etruscan factors, creating something that was their own."
Only when he was finished did Arthur realize that he probably just bored the fuck out of Eames with that ridiculous rant. He laughed sheepishly and looked back to Eames, utterly shocked to find that the man was still watching him intently.
"I think intelligence is sexy," Eames murmured as if reading Arthur's mind and smirking subtly.
Arthur's ears burned though he managed a small grin in return, "As do I."
And it only took a few hours for Arthur to realize that Eames was probably the most intelligent person he had ever met. He wasn't sure exactly how book smart Eames was, per se, but it was obvious that Eames was smart in what really mattered. Eames was experienced and Arthur only just noticed how there seemed to be a very subtle calculation about him, like his mind was always ticking, always taking in his surroundings and adapting to them.
That was what made Arthur ask, hours later with them both on Eames' patio, smoking a cigarette, "Can we go somewhere sometime? It doesn't have to be a date, if you would rather not, but I would like to go out with you sometime."
Because he wanted to see the way Eames worked in some place that wasn't as familiar as their home.
There was a long pause as Eames took a drag and then parted his lips, allowing the smoke to wander carelessly from his mouth. When he tilted his head and glanced sideways, he murmured quietly, "I'll take you out for your birthday. How does that sound?"
That sounded wonderful.
|.|.|
Thunder split through the sky one Friday night, pulling Arthur gracelessly from his sleep. He couldn't see within the darkness of Eames' room. He couldn't see his hands in front of his face and, when he turned his head, blinking blearily, he couldn't see Eames' sleeping face behind him. He settled again and exhaled quietly, smiling faintly at the way the light patter of rain began to tap across the glass of Eames' window.
Rainy nights were his favorite. He loved the background noise of the drops on his window and the roll of thunder outside. This was his first rainy night with Eames and he pressed further into the man's warmth surrounding him.
He couldn't stop smiling.
"Eames isn't my name," came lazily and drawled from behind him. Arthur glanced back again though it was useless. The thunder must have woken Eames as well.
"Hn?" he hummed quietly, relaxing again as he closed his eyes. His voice was scratchy against his throat with sleep.
He heard Eames' lips smack quietly, as if he was wetting them. "'M like you… Eames is my last name."
Arthur paused, sliding his fingers across the tendons in the back of Eames' hands. "What's your first name?" he asked gently.
There was a silence behind him, one that was tinted with a hint of hesitation. Arthur held his breath, as if he was afraid he'd miss it. Eames' response was nearly inaudible when he breathed, "William."
And, in that moment, Arthur felt like Eames had told him something important, something undisclosed to anyone else.
|.|.|
Soon, it didn't matter if it was Saturday or Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday or any other week day; Arthur stayed in Eames' apartment nearly every day of the week. At first, Arthur made sure Eames asked him to stay but, soon, they both just assumed that Arthur would. Sometimes Arthur wouldn't, however reluctantly, but those were only days when he actually had something important going on in school. Which was rare.
So they woke up every weekday to Freddie Mercury's voice, groaned and cursed the morning before Arthur dragged himself from bed to trudge upstairs and get ready for school.
After a few days, it became custom for Eames to kiss him gently before he left. That always made his day just a bit more bearable.
Then Arthur would go to school and Eames would sometimes go to the advertising firm, some other times he did things unknown to Arthur, and then they would reassemble for dinner, for the night.
It was comfortable. Eventually Arthur didn't feel so young when he sat at Eames' kitchen table and did his homework while Eames "assassinated some wankers" on his Xbox 360. Arthur wasn't sure of how he missed the fact that Eames had a 360, but he had, and it made Eames even more endearing. Sometimes, while Arthur did his homework, Eames would sit across from him and splay out some ad prototypes and mark them up with a sharpie all the while mumbling to himself under his breath.
Arthur was finding more and more out about Eames with each passing day. The most prominent thing, perhaps, was Eames' playful and teasing side that he hadn't seen while trying to… seduce, court, whatever, him. Arthur assumed it was because Eames had purposefully controlled himself in his company during that time and, now that Arthur was there more or less every day, that control was forgotten and unnecessary.
For example, one night while Arthur was sat at the kitchen table and Eames was playing his 360, Eames turned on Queen's 'Another One Bites the Dust'. And sang along whenever he won.
That night, more than ever, Arthur was sure that he was in love.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and they still hadn't fucked. That was mainly Eames' doing and, while it was disheartening, Arthur knew that Eames was just as reluctant as he was. He didn't say so, of course, but about two days out of the week, Arthur would wake up in the middle of the night with Eames' erection grinding against his ass.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and the most they had done was hand jobs, dry humping, the like.
It was a week until Arthur's birthday and, after they slipped into Eames' bed, Eames slipped on top of him and murmured low and huskily, "As an early birthday present, will you let me suck that lovely dick of yours?"
Another example of just how Eames' control was discarded.
Arthur glanced down briefly at those full, pink lips and nearly moaned, "Yes."
Eames smirked very lightly, kissed Arthur once, and then slid down his body to easily get rid of the sweatpants draped across his prominent hip bones. Arthur automatically spread his legs for Eames to settle between, his breathing already heavy and his mind already dizzy with want. His underwear wasn't pulled off just yet-Eames leaned over and mouthed him through his briefs, lips tauntingly warm and damp.
Firm hands held Arthur's hips down as they automatically arched for more and Eames didn't give him more. Eames made him shiver by just mouthing at his cock through the thin cotton, made him drape his arm over his glazing eyes, made him moan breathlessly.
Then finally, christ, finally, Eames shifted easily to get rid of his maddening underwear. He felt Eames straddle one of his knees. Arthur peeked out from behind his arm just in time to see Eames grip his hips again and then lean over, slide his tongue up the underside of Arthur's cock. His moan fell to pieces as it dripped through his lips.
This was already the best birthday present ever.
Eames' mouth was hot and wet and Arthur's spine arched as the head of his cock was enveloped in it. The heat spread across the plains of Arthur's skin and made his fingers curl tightly within the bed sheets. Each breath scraped against his throat and he stared down at Eames with dark irises, watching as those lips slid down further.
His toes curled as his one leg automatically bent away from Eames' body and those lips, that mouth, that heat began to move and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Eames watched Arthur as he writhed and unhooked his fingers from the sheets to rake them back through Eames' hair. He breathed Eames' name huskily, his head spinning with the new and heavy heat and then Eames swallowed him down and Arthur couldn't breathe for a long moment.
There was a heavy weight on his other knee-a heavy hot weight that was kneading harshly against his skin and when Arthur opened his eyes, he saw Eames' hips grinding down onto his leg desperately. They groaned simultaneously, but that only made Arthur's breath catch and his leg buck up into Eames' cock. Eames moaned again and god damn it if that happened one more time, Arthur wouldn't last.
Fuck, he wouldn't last anyway. The familiar feeling filled his stomach easily because Eames' lips were god sent, talented and that tongue pressed against him.
He jolted. "E-Eames, close-"
It wasn't much of a warning, but it was a miracle that he got one out at all because he then came into Eames' mouth, his orgasm racking his body, arching his spine and his eyes were clenched shut as he moaned breathlessly.
He shuddered violently at the cold once Eames' lips withdrew and the pressure against his knee dulled as he breathed shallowly. Arthur didn't notice or see the way Eames' hips jolted when he came. He didn't feel the wet heat against his skin.
When he finally cracked his eyes open, his breathing having calmed and deepened immensely, he saw Eames hovering over his body, his pupils blown and lips red, wet, swollen. There were beads of come in their corners, but only for a moment before Eames' tongue slipped out and licked them away. Arthur had to reach up and drag him down just to kiss those lips, just to feel them so hot and spent against his own. He tasted a hint of himself upon them.
"Happy early birthday," Eames whispered huskily into his lips.
"Without a doubt," Arthur breathed tiredly in response, "the best birthday present I have ever received."
Eames pulled away, his red lips curled in a pleased smile. His fingers were trembling subtly and warm as he brushed some of the hair away from Arthur's damp hairline. "That's not all. I promise."
|.|.|
"Does 'bros before hoes' mean anything to you?" Ariadne had said during passing time the next Friday, Arthur's birthday.
"I tried, Ari," Arthur had sighed in response, pulling his books from his locker and slipping them into his messenger bag, "but he said he can only make it work for me."
"Or that he only wants to make it work for you." Despite the words, there hadn't been any trace of spite within them.
"I haven't even met him," she had continued with an exasperated sigh. "You're ditching me on your birthday for some guy that I haven't even met."
"Birthday night."
Now, Arthur was leading Ariadne to Eames' apartment. He had sent a text during last period that he would bring her over for a bit after school but promised that she would leave before five. Arthur wasn't sure what Eames' plans were, but he didn't want to ruin them at all. Eames had responded easily enough before asking just what Ariadne knew about them. Arthur had sensed Eames' previous insecurity just through the question, so he responded that she only knew of Eames from before they started doing anything, back when Arthur couldn't talk or think about anything else. Back when he literally didn't want anything else.
… Well, those standards still held true today. And he still talked about Eames a lot, but not as much and it wasn't like Ariadne would actually tell anyone. Though he had managed to downplay just how many nights he spent at Eames' place.
Anyway, when they stood outside Eames' door, Ariadne fixed her hair, adjusted her shirt and said playfully, "What if he doesn't like me? I'll be ruined."
Arthur chuckled and waited for her to be done picking at her hair before messing it up again. "Hush, he'll love you."
He did. And he was an utter gentleman, so much so that he inclined his head upon meeting her and raised her hand to his lips. Raised her hand to his lips, what the fuck. Arthur made a mental note to call him on that later and demand a kiss to his hand.
The three of them ended up curled on Eames' couch, each with a controller in hand and playing some shooter Arthur had forgotten the name of. Arthur had honestly never played before but Eames downright refused to believe so with how good Arthur was with the sniper rifle. Both Eames and Ariadne ended up cheating by looking at Arthur's screen to see just what building he had hidden on so they could maneuver about to stay out of Arthur's range.
But then Arthur just pulled out his shotgun and chased them down instead. And hit them each in the shoulder.
Ariadne hit him right back while Eames laughed and then leaned in to press a kiss to his hair. Arthur's heart warmed and he supposed he could excuse the hand kiss.
It was around five in the evening when they trotted back up to Arthur's apartment to grab Ariadne's things.
"Oh!" she said excitedly and ran over to her school bag once they stepped inside. She out pulled a small, wrapped box and hid it behind her back as if Arthur didn't already see. "I almost forgot your birthday present."
Arthur smiled and waited until she offered the box before taking it. He eyed the red and black plaid wrapping paper before humming his approval.
Ariadne laughed quietly and clasped her hands around her back, rocking on her toes. "I thought it suited you. Of course, I had the urge to use the Spongebob Christmas paper as well, but I figured I should be nice on your birthday."
She watched as he peeled away the paper with a careful precision, making sure not to actually tear it. This drove her insane and he knew it; why else do it?
When Arthur began to fold the paper to set it aside, she ripped it from his hands and sighed, "Just open it."
He did with an amused smirk. Inside, cradled neatly in folded, red tissue paper, was a silky, black tie. It was soft and smooth beneath his touch, so smooth that its fabric caught briefly in the ridges of his fingertips.
"I know you and I are always talking about how men in suits are hotter than hell, so I thought you could use a nice tie," Ariadne explained with a pleased tone as Arthur set the box down and held the tie up to his torso. It looked wonderful against the white of his button up shirt. "Wear it around Eames sometime," she added and winked. "If he hasn't fucked you yet, he will most certainly have to then.
"Or he'll tie you up with it," she continued after a moment's thought and Arthur's grin slipped into a crooked grin.
"I'll wear it tonight," he murmured and slung it over his shoulder before pulling her into a hug. "Thank you, I love it. It's the classiest tie I've ever seen."
Ariadne laughed against his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Damn right it is," she mumbled into his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing." She withdrew one arm and did something, Arthur couldn't quite tell what with her still in his arms, but he heard rustling and soon something was being slid into his back pocket before she purred easily, "Just in case."
When he pulled away, he found a few condoms stuffed in his pocket.
|.|.|
Arthur went back downstairs about a half hour after Ariadne left-he debated changing his outfit, fixed his hair, decided that he wanted to change his outfit, brushed his teeth, decided that he wanted to change back, flattened his shirt several times in the mirror, slipped on the black tie, smirked at his reflection and then decided he was satisfied-and found that Eames had made a wonderful pasta dish for dinner.
He also found that, throughout their entire meal, Eames' gaze repeatedly fell to the black tie fixed beneath his collar. A few times, Arthur saw those eyes follow the tie down, examine the way it laid so nicely against his white shirt, and made a mental note to get Ariadne something nice. Or at least buy her lunch sometime.
It was around six-thirty when Eames finally told Arthur to wait in the living room before going to his bedroom to get Arthur's present. When Eames came back, his hands were behind his back and his lips were curled upwards in the slightest.
"Close your eyes," he mumbled quietly when he was close enough. "Your present's a bit a bit wonky so I didn't know how to wrap it."
Arthur did so and held out his hands. He was smiling and he only smiled wider as he caught Eames' scent. Spice. Crisp.
"Here's the first part of your gift." Something was soon placed in his hand and it felt like a card of sorts. It was light, smooth to the touch as he closed his hand around it experimentally.
"Open your eyes," Eames prompted gently.
He found an ID in his hand, one with his face, his name, his address and his birthday, only set one year earlier. If he couldn't find it in himself to stop smiling earlier, he most certainly couldn't now and he laughed quietly, looked up at Eames who was eyeing him fondly.
"Why do you need me to be eighteen?"
"The second part of your gift. Close your eyes again."
Honestly, Arthur wasn't sure of what he expected Eames to place in his hand then. Certainly, everything sexual came to mind-maybe they were going to a sex store, a sex club, a strip club-and the more he thought, the more his heart raced. But something like cardstock slipped into his hand and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was smooth, definitely paper of some sort, but what the hell-
"Open."
In Arthur's hand was a ticket. A ticket to an 18+ show at a bar downtown that started at eight.
A ticket to see a band entitled King: A Queen cover band.
Arthur nearly crumpled the ticket in his hand when he grabbed Eames' collar and yanked him in for a demanding kiss.
Part Four