Caviar and Cigarettes [part 4/4]
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 | Part Three
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Eames slipped a beer into Arthur's hand just before the set began, touched Arthur's lower back with his newly freed hand and raised his own beer glass as he murmured in Arthur's ear, "To your birthday."
Arthur laughed and raised his own glass, touched it to Eames' before taking a drink. He made a slight face at the taste, his brow scrunching because beer had never really been his cup of tea.
"I know, I'm sorry this place isn't classy enough for you," Eames said teasingly upon seeing Arthur's expression. "They didn't have wine. Besides, I'm sure beer will be your fancy when you're actually legal."
"Speaking of, shouldn't you not be supplying me with this?"
The dim lighting of the bar highlighted Eames' upper lip as he grinned wider. "I have to do my part to contribute to the delinquency of minors. Besides, no one fucking cares."
It was true. Arthur glanced around at the small space cleared in front of the pathetic excuse for a stage and saw far more men than he saw women. And all of them were holding drinks in their hands-and the age minimum for the show wasn't twenty-one. They were standing pretty far back relative to other parts of the bar, but there really wasn't such a thing as too far away from the slightly raised platform. It wasn't too crowded, though. If Arthur actually took the time to count, it really wouldn't come out to be a large number.
And everyone seemed out to have a good time.
Arthur's attention was drawn forward again as the lights dimmed in the slightest and cheers came from around them. He was aware of how close Eames was standing to him, how Eames' black, button-up was brushing against his arm, how Eames had yet to remove his hand from Arthur's lower back.
God damn it, that hand didn't move. Well, it did-it moved up, it moved down, but it didn't move away. Not as the concert started and the band opened with Killer Queen, which was one of Arthur's personal favorites, not as a man who looked strikingly like Freddie Mercury slid gracefully though demandingly around the small space of the platform. Just as Arthur made a mental note that the guy was actually pretty impressive for not being Freddie Mercury, that hand moved up in the slightest and killed that train of thought.
It wasn't fair and Arthur wished that he would just get used to things not being fair with Eames. But he couldn't. Not yet, at least.
The air around them grew hotter as more bodies filled in and Arthur pressed a little closer to Eames. Their heads were now close and he nursed his beer slowly. Arthur turned his head just enough to see Eames' eyes scanning the slight change in the venue, his gaze sliding over each new person easily. And there was the calculation, the adaption, and when Eames' hand slid briefly aside to grip Arthur's hip, Arthur smiled widely.
"He's pretty good, yeah?" Eames noted in his ear a bit later, during the end of The Show Must Go On.
Arthur nodded and his gaze still sideways upon Eames, who waited a bit before leaning in to kiss his cheek.
The next song was Don't Stop Me Now and they both raised their beer glasses and couldn't stop laughing for a long moment.
It was a couple of songs later, after We are the Champions, Under Pressure and during Another One Bites the Dust-Eames had let out a whoop as they announced it-that Arthur was able to watch the way the lead singer moved. And, not only did he look strikingly like Freddie Mercury, but he dressed like him and moved like him too. Which meant short, white gym shorts and a fitting, white tank-top that did nothing to hide the way his hips sauntered and jutted forward when he strutted, the way his back and arm muscles would move with each elaborated movement.
Arthur was, once again, very aware of Eames' hand on the dip of his back. He bit his lower lip and looked sideways once more, finding that Eames was watching him as well. Those eyes were dark beneath the shadows of his long lashes, the very outline of his face illuminated by the ever shifting stage lighting. The stubble along his jaw looked nearly blonde, much lighter than his hair, which fell mostly in shadows across the top of his forehead. And those lips, one corner of those lips was highlighted and fell into a gradual gradient until they blended in with the other shadows across his skin.
He was beautiful.
And Arthur's heart nearly drowned out the bass petal as Eames leaned in and kissed him once, but it was a lingering, promising kiss. One that ended on a note that swore to be continued.
Both of their cups were empty once the last song rolled around and was, of course, Bohemian Rhapsody. The entire crowd acted as the chorus and Arthur couldn't stop smiling as he and Eames joined in, raising their cups and leaning close to each other as they screamed with everyone else to "let him go".
Honestly? It was the best time Arthur had ever had in his life.
They left the bar immediately after the show ended, Eames skillfully hailing a cab before anyone else could beat them to it. They slid inside, both of them still smiling and Arthur's ears rang in the quiet noise of the night. He felt a bit buzzed but not drunk, just warm. Comfortable and elated. He let his body sink into the seat as Eames directed the driver and the cab began to move. He watched as Eames settled back into his seat and then looked him, smiled wider, and slowly slid a hand across the backseat, towards him. Those fingers were extended, but didn't touch him; they came about an inch short. So Arthur slipped his hand atop them.
"Am I finally getting laid tonight?" he murmured softly, words tilted with a slight, teasing tone.
Eames chuckled quietly and glanced down his tie again. "We'll see."
He closed his fingers tightly around Eames' and wished so.
It was only a few minutes before the cab pulled up to their apartment complex and Eames hurriedly paid the driver. They moved quickly, like there was an unspoken urgency in their actions, and, once they were safely inside Eames' apartment with the chain lock in place, their bodies were close, mouths and hands demanding upon each other. Eames' touch was hot through the cloth of Arthur's shirt and against his chilled skin where sweat had begun to bead from the heat of the bar. Somehow, they both managed to kick their shoes off and then Eames' fingers tangled themselves in the end of his tie, yanked him further into the kiss. Arthur's knees went weak.
"Been wanting to do that all night," Eames growled into his lips, the words hot and tasting like the faintest hint of alcohol. Yes, Ariadne was getting a wonderful lunch or dinner at some point.
Arthur didn't have a chance to respond before Eames-purposefully or not, Arthur didn't know-pushed the knot of the tie while pulling it down, tightening it around his throat. His face felt hot with that, his pulse now prominent against his collar and each heartbeat constricted around his throat. When Eames sucked on his lower lip, a breathless groan slipped from his mouth and he curled his fingers tightly in Eames' shirt, tugging on it a bit demandingly because, god damn it, this needed to happen tonight. Especially with the way the heat was rising to his head and making him dizzy.
A low chuckle slipped from Eames' lips and he slid his hands around Arthur's body and to his lower back. He pulled him close, pressing their bodies together and Arthur could feel the firmness of Eames' muscles through the fabric of their shirts.
"Are you getting laid tonight?" Eames purred mockingly and cupped Arthur's jaw, tilted his head and then kissed along to his ear. Arthur lolled his head back, elongating his neck and the pressure from his tie only intensified, leaving him breathless.
Eames, again, didn't give him a chance to respond-were Arthur's thoughts not all muddied and indistinguishable, he would have sworn that Eames just liked to hear himself talk-before he stepped forward, forcing him back, back and back until he found himself against a wall. Eames' leg wormed its way between his own and pressed a thigh to his crotch, causing his body to twitch and he groaned huskily.
"You want me to fuck you," Eames breathed hotly into his ear. He shuddered, going momentarily boneless against the wall. "Are you getting laid tonight?"
"Eames," he tried to growl, though the words came lowly on a husky breath.
"Yes, darling?"
Arthur's mind momentarily caught on that word. Darling. The fucker moved his thigh then, circling it against Arthur's half-hard cock and he clenched his eyes shut, his limbs beginning to tingle with the pressure against his throat and the heat spreading through his body at the stimulation. Eames' teeth scraped against his earlobe and, as was this maddening trend with Eames, Arthur never stood a fucking chance.
"Darling, am I going to fuck you tonight?" Eames whispered breathlessly once he had coaxed Arthur fully erect, his voice husky and rough against Arthur's ear.
"Yes," Arthur finally breathed harshly, the word coming out amidst shallow pants.
"Damn right I am." And there it was, even lower than before, that abrasive, merciless tone that always made Arthur's heart leap to his throat. This time was no different.
Eames' body was off of his and he didn't need any coaxing before they both stumbled towards the bedroom, Eames' hands sliding up and down his back as he kept his finger hooked within Eames' belt loop. He didn't bother to loosen the tie; he didn't want to loosen the tie. The pressure set his nerves to attention and subtly kindled the buzzed heat already spreading across his skin from the beer. He took a brief moment to be grateful that Eames hadn't gotten him drunk-first off, that would have made walking with the tie constricting his throat so much more difficult and secondly because he wanted to remember every moment of this.
He somehow knew that Eames knew that.
When Arthur was close to the bed, Eames' hand abruptly clamped around his side and turned him before shoving him down onto the mattress. It was honestly a bit disorienting at first but he couldn't help but grin subtly as he moved back onto the bed and watched as Eames crawl towards him, eyes smoldering. Eames' body was soon hovering over his and those lips were soon back upon his own, pushing and pulling insistently. Arthur licked Eames' mouth and shuddered as he felt those fingertips slip down his jaw and the side of his neck.
An interested sound vibrated in Eames' mouth as his touch rested at Arthur's collar. Arthur didn't move, his fingers curled gently in the bed sheets, and just felt the way those fingers prodded experimentally at the collar and then the tie.
"Feels a bit tight," Eames whispered into his lips, fingers now touching the knot of his tie. They didn't loosen it, however. "Did I do that?"
Arthur nodded subtly and nipped at Eames' upper lip. He felt those lips curl in the slightest and the light pressure of Eames' fingers pressing into the knot. Eames didn't say anything and still didn't adjust the tie before his fingers slid down between them and plucked open the buttons of Arthur's shirt. Arthur pulled his hands from the bed to do the same to Eames' shirt, his fingers moving quicker and Eames was just finishing his last button before he pushed the black shirt down Eames' shoulders.
Eames sat up on his knees and did the rest. He folded his shoulders back and pulled his arms from the sleeves, his eyes dark beneath his lashes and upon Arthur. Not quite upon Arthur's eyes, but a bit lower… On his throat, Arthur realized and that made him swallow hard, his hands sliding uselessly down the ridges of Eames' stomach.
After Eames set his shirt carelessly aside, it was a long moment before he moved again. His gaze was fixed upon the tie against Arthur's skin and the look only served to increase the pressure tenfold. Arthur was then very aware of the way his pulse pounded beneath the confinement, the way it made his breath scrape against his throat, the way it made his head feel just slightly lighter than usual. He watched Eames watch him and those eyes on him like that, that hungry, greedy gaze, made his body arch and his fingers curled tightly against Eames' skin.
Eames' fingers were slow and deft when they finally pulled the tie free. The air was then cold in Arthur's lungs and sent his head in an entirely different sort of rush. His breathing was shallow and husky and he was shaking as Eames coaxed him into a sitting position and pulled the tie from his collar before slipping his shirt off.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he purred in Arthur's ear before nipping sharply at Arthur's earlobe, making him twitch and grunt and he really wasn't sure of what that statement meant, but he didn't really care as his shirt was discarded.
A firm palm to his chest shoved him back down onto the bed and Eames' weight was atop him, the hot skin of their chests sliding together. Arthur curled his fingers tightly in Eames' hair with a low sound and yanked him in to ignite another merciless kiss, their teeth clanking together. He sucked Eames' tongue into his mouth and he felt the way the man above him shivered. His hands slid from Eames' hair and down the burning skin on the back of Eames' neck, shoulder blades, spine. The muscles shifted beneath his fingers and he loved feeling as if he was the one manipulating Eames' body, the one making it move and arch and twist, the one making it flush and heat up the residing sweat from the concert.
Eames moaned when he kneaded the skin at the dip in Eames' lower back and Arthur knew that he was the one doing all of these things. The thought made him bite at Eames' lower lip a bit harshly and he growled breathlessly when he received a low, almost threatening sound in return.
Arthur exhaled harshly and tilted his head as those lips slid from his own and across his jaw, the contrasting feeling of Eames' tongue and teeth against his skin making his head spin just a bit more. He felt Eames' lips slip downwards to begin seducing and manipulating the skin on the side of his neck and Eames bit down hard, an obscene sound smacking from his lips as he sucked and Arthur could barely breathe for that moment.
And then Eames dropped his hips and rutted against him. The friction of Eames' hard cock against his own, even while layered with the maddening fabric of their pants, was hot and rough and Arthur really didn't have a hope of breathing at that point.
A broken sound dripped from Arthur's lips as Eames repeated that motion once, twice, again, and again all the while sucking a bruise into the skin of his neck. He dug his fingers into the firm skin of Eames' back and distantly loved the low sound that vibrated against his throat.
"E- Eames-" Arthur grunted breathlessly because he was only sixteen-seventeen, he had only just turned seventeen and he was hot, dizzy, hard, so painfully hard and that friction-
Eames must have understood because he was gone, then. Gone entirely, with his lips pulled from Arthur's throat, his chest withdrawn from Arthur's own, his hips sliding away. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed and he rested his shaking hand atop them, not wanting to look at the way the room was spinning just enough to be uncomfortable around him. He caught his breath, breathing harshly and shallowly even as Eames' fingers fiddled with the button and zipper of his pants. Arthur was hot. Too hot, he didn't recall ever being this hot for anyone, not even for Eames before. Sweat was already beginning to gather in the crook of his knees and along the dip of his collarbone.
"Your neck looks so lovely with a hickey on it," Eames whispered huskily from above him and Arthur felt a pointed tug on his pants. He lifted his hips and pulled his legs from them when he was able and waited another long moment before shakily withdrawing his hand from his face, laying it uselessly on the bed as he cracked his eyes open. Eames' dark gaze was fixed upon his throat again.
"Good thing I don't live with my parents anymore." Arthur's voice was far more breathless and husky than he had ever heard it. Eames gave a wry smile in return.
"Good thing," he whispered and leaned over to kiss Arthur's lip gently, though just slow enough and just long enough to make Arthur's body arch with want.
It didn't take very long for Eames to pull Arthur's socks underwear off and then hurriedly undo his own pants, discarding the rest of his clothing rather easily. Eames paused, his eyes smoldering and hungry as they swept across Arthur's skin, making Arthur's body twitch with anticipation in their wake. The look made Arthur's breath rush from his lungs for that moment and he wanted. He wanted Eames' body against his, all skin and nothing else, all heavy and hot friction, but he was slightly relieved when Eames crawled to his nightstand.
Because, again, seventeen. He already wasn't going to last long as it was.
Eames' body elongated beautifully as he reached over and pulled a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer. Arthur turned on his side and reached out, touching one of the notches in the man's spine and grinned subtly at the way Eames purred.
He turned back over once Eames slunk back and touched his thigh with a maddening touch that made his skin tingle before settling between his legs. As Eames popped the bottle cap open, Arthur took that moment and stared at the ink tainting Eames skin, at the ripples across his chest and stomach, at his cock. He was big, far bigger than any toy Arthur had ever used and Arthur's heart demanded his attention for a brief moment.
He made a mental note to trace those tattoos and ask about them when they were done because, really, they were beautiful. They made him want a tattoo. Or even a piercing. Something for Eames to look at.
"Bend your knees, darling."
Eames set the bottle down briefly, lathering his dripping fingers, but Arthur was, again, caught on 'darling'.
Darling.
He did as he was told, his legs spreading further with the motion, and then shudders violently as one of those cold fingertips slid across his entrance. Some of the lube dripped down his ass and onto the bed.
It wasn't the stretch of Eames' finger slipping inside Arthur that made him moan. It was the smooth, cool slide of it, the way it twisted within him slowly, the way it was Eames' finger. And it felt so good as Eames stretched the digit, crooked it, as his other hand cupped Arthur's thigh tightly, holding his leg open. His palm was hot and damp.
Arthur felt the finger twist once more before another slipped in and the stretch was more noticeable, more like the width of his vibrator. But Eames' fingers could stretch and spread and Arthur twitched beneath them, a shaking sound leaking from his swollen lips. He closed his eyes, the image of Eames' dark eyes weighing down on his skin burned into the insides of his eyelids.
"Am I better than your toy?" Arthur could distantly hear the crooked smirk on Eames' lips and he smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle in response.
Eames worked those fingers inside him for a long moment, stretching and crooking and twisting them thoroughly, making Arthur's body hot and desperate. He was trembling with the way his nerves were wired, ready to jump at even the slightest touch. Like when Eames began to thumb the sensitive skin of the inside of his thigh. And then those fingers paused, pressed against him uncomfortably, and the sting of the third finger made his eyes burn subtly.
The digits sat within him for a long moment, just letting his body adjust and slowly relax against the intrusion. Arthur slowly opened his eyes and Eames hadn't moved. He was still staring at him with lustful eyes, the restraint obvious in his tense jaw. Arthur wondered briefly just what Eames was holding back.
He twitched aggressively as those fingers crept to life within him, each one slowly extending. Arthur struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt Eames' fingers spread, the sharp ache making his brow crease. They turned inside him and pressed out against him, stretching him open, preparing him for-f-for-god, finally.
Arthur's skin set to fire as Eames pulled those fingers out, pushed them back in, again, finger fucked him slowly for a long while. He arched, fingers scrambling in the bed sheets beneath him. It soon became maddening as the want and heat threaded through his gut, and Eames began to finger him harder, harder, deeper, and Arthur swore he heard a low growl drip from those sinful lips.
"Fuck," he cursed beneath his breath, his mind slowly going to pieces with the way those thrusts were intensifying. A familiar pressure weighed down in his gut and then Eames hit his prostate, forcing his body into a dizzying and weightless pleasure that made his spine angle and made him moan loudly.
Then they were gone. All three of them, swiftly withdrawn from Arthur and he crashed back to his body as the heightened pressure painfully faded away. He let out a keening sound, eyes clenched shut as he trembled and tried to curl in on himself. But Eames didn't let him and stroked his thigh gently, leaning over to touch his cheek with his dirty hand.
"Shh, almost," he whispered, his low voice shaking and Arthur knew he wasn't the only one who needed this anymore.
He wondered if he was ever the only one who needed it to begin with. He distantly listened to Eames shift and tear open the condom and he wondered just how long.
"Eames," he breathed shakily, cracking his eyes open just in time to watch Eames fist the condom on. He swallows tightly before continuing, "I-I wanted this since I first saw you in your doorway…"
A gentle smile curled Eames' lips as he shakily poured a bit more lube into his palm. He met Arthur's gaze once more and murmured, "I know. I know, me too. Your arse looked delicious in those trousers."
Eames' smile morphed into a slight smirk and Arthur laughed breathlessly.
"I know. It's why I wear them." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply and shakily. "Your lips looked delicious with a cigarette within them."
The chuckle that slipped from said lips was a bit broken, strained, and Arthur knew that Eames was lathering himself. He opened his eyes to watch. "It's why I smoke them," Eames said breathlessly, his eyes dark though the grin was still curling his lips no matter how weakly.
"And your accent," Arthur continued weakly as he watched Eames lean forward, grip his hip. "It's not even fair." Now he was just babbling out of nervousness and Eames smiled gently, affectionately.
"I admit I have no control over that," he whispered and his other hand disappeared between himself and Arthur. "Are you ready, darling?"
Darling.
Arthur swallowed tightly and exhaled, watching Eames' dark eyes for a long moment before nodding.
The pressure of Eames pressing into him made his mind finally fall entirely to pieces. He was hot, hard and it hurt, it really did, with the burn of Eames slowly pushing into him deeper and deeper. Arthur's hands flew back up to his face and he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, his fingers curling tightly within his hair as his lips parted and tried to breathe. Tried. He was only able when Eames finally stopped, leaving him full and tense, his muscles wound tightly.
Eames' hand was shaking and hot as it stroked his chest gently. "Arthur, look at me." His voice was wrecked.
Arthur did after a moment. He withdrew his fingers and stared up at Eames, his head spinning and weightless with the pleasure and clashing pain. Eames quickly and a bit clumsily slipped his fingers between Arthur's and pressed them to the bed.
"Relax," he whispered huskily, the words barely distinguishable from the harsh breaths that escaped his lips. "R-Relax, I got you, I'll take care of you."
Arthur believed him. He really did. It was several deep, shaking breaths later that he managed to calm himself in the slightest, but it was enough.
Eames began to move, a slow drag of his hips, in, out. Arthur closed his eyes again and clamped his fingers around Eames', which returned the grip just as tightly and kept his hands pinned to the sheets. He felt Eames do this over and over, just as slowly and he felt the heat of Eames' body hover closer to his own. He groaned huskily as Eames kissed sloppily up his neck and to his ear.
"How are you?" The words were, again, tense and hot against the sensitive skin of his ear. Arthur didn't respond for a long moment. He waited until the slow pace was maddening, just like it had been with Eames' fingers. He waited until he craved more, even in the wake of the blistering ache.
"More," he breathed out eventually and turned his head to scrape his teeth against the stubble of Eames' jaw. Eames bit the shell of his ear in return before he withdrew, his weight and heat just a bit further away, but not far enough for it to be lost on Arthur.
Arthur opened his eyes just in time to see tension line Eames' shoulders, to feel the more demanding press of his hands against the mattress, to feel the more insistent drive inside him. The pain flared but it was hot, hot just like the pleasure and Arthur shuddered violently as Eames fucked him faster and just a bit harder. And then just a bit harder. And then just a bit harder.
It was clear the restraint had disappeared from Eames' motions. Arthur groaned huskily at the more demanding pace inside him, his eyes rolling back briefly before he caught a brief glance of the way the tendons in Eames' neck protruded when he tilted his head back. Arthur writhed and arched, his nails now digging into the skin of Eames' hand and his eyes finally closed. He was panting harshly, each breath scraping against his drying throat and, when he licked his lips, he tasted the salt of sweat.
His own hips picked up the rhythm subtly and the sound that echoed from above him was dark and made him grit his teeth. He opened his eyes again, his own eyes glazed and red with the lingering reminder of the pain from beneath his lashes. He opened his eyes again because he wanted to watch the way Eames' body moved, he wanted to watch the way the ink morphed with the tensing of the muscles beneath, he wanted to watch the sweat drip down Eames' chest.
He wanted to watch Eames fall apart.
No, he wanted to feel Eames fall apart. He wanted to feel Eames, the movements, the tensing, the sweat.
So he jerked his hands sideways, just enough to send a hint, and Eames' weight was then heavy atop him. Their hands didn't disconnect, but now Arthur could feel Eames' chest sliding against his own, could feel Eames' thighs press more insistently to his own. It all felt like suffocation, with Eames' weight solid against him, with the heat-he could no longer tell whose sweat was on his skin-and with the way his head spun hopelessly, but he only held Eames' hands tighter and groaned.
The sound morphed into a shrill, shaking moan as Eames drove right into his prostate and there was the curling pressure in his gut. His limbs began to tingle with the overwhelming pleasure and a quick, "Eames" came out on a harsh breath.
His hips jerked to a halt because Eames smirked subtly and rested his lips in Arthur's sweaty hair before aiming for that spot over and over again. Aiming and hitting; Arthur was reduced to twitching and arching and his toes curled as he came closer with each drive.
All of the breath fled his lungs as he came, a jagged and choked sound escaping with it. He clenched his eyes shut, twitching body pressing up into Eames', even as those thrusts kept coming, riding him through his orgasm.
Arthur grit his teeth as he began to come down and breathed heavily through his nose, the pain now more demanding than the pleasure with each thrust but Eames stopped soon enough, his hands tightening mercilessly around Arthur's as he growled huskily and came.
As he listened to the way Eames' breathing stopped in that moment, Arthur briefly ached to feel Eames spill inside him.
Eames' body began to tremble violently as he drew in a hot breath and finished. He managed to pull out of Arthur, a move that made Arthur's brow crease and his lips part with a weak sound, before sitting up on his knees and pulling off the condom. As he went to discard it, Arthur carefully turned onto his side and curled up, shuddering violently as the sweat chilled on his skin.
But it wasn't too long before Eames was behind him, his body fitting nicely against Arthur's. Eames was all warm and hot and kisses to the back of his head.
"I didn't even need to touch you." The words were scratchy against damp hair and very clearly delivered with a subtle grin. Arthur laughed tiredly and closed his eyes.
"Guess not," he mumbled lowly in return and pressed his back firmly to Eames' chest.
There was a pause and, now that his heart was calm, Arthur could still hear the faint ringing in his ears from earlier.
"Happy birthday," Eames whispered after a moment and Arthur smiled.
"It was my favorite birthday."
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'Don't Stop Me Now' went off at 10:08 the next morning.
Arthur just smiled and turned, pressed his body more firmly to Eames', tangled their legs together and dozed to Freddie Mercury's voice with his head tucked beneath Eames' chin. He idly traced the swirl curling up Eames' bicep.
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A few days later, Arthur took Ariadne out to dinner to her favorite Italian restaurant.
He wore his tie and they laughed when the waiter insinuated that they were on a date.
|.|.|
They set the alarm back to ten every morning after that. Just because Arthur found his days were better when he started them with laying in bed with Eames for a bit, listening to Queen.
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A few months later, when renewal for Arthur's lease was in the seeable future, they found themselves splayed out on Eames' couch. Arthur was settled atop Eames, had unbuttoned his shirt and had long ago given up on paying any attention to the shitty movie playing beside them as he traced the ink along Eames' chest.
"What's this one?" he murmured, tracing the outline of a stylized poker chip. His eyes were following the outside curve, so he missed the way Eames watched the crown of his head, a small smile on his lips.
"We all have our vices," Eames said lazily in return and threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair. "Your hair's getting long."
Arthur sighed and kissed the center of the poker chip. "I know. It needs to be cut."
Eames shook his head and touched a few of the curls that were growing around his neck. "No, I think it looks nice."
A subtle smile curled Arthur's lips as he glanced up before lolling his head to the side, resting his cheek on the firm muscles of Eames' chest. "Okay," he murmured tiredly in return. His finger sketched the inked number lining the underside of Eames' collarbone-a combination of sorts, apparently-and watched Eames' lips. He watched as the smile slipped from their corners, he watched as Eames' tongue slipped out and licked across the cracks lining them.
He watched the way they moved when Eames mumbled quietly after a moment, "Arthur, there's something I need to tell you before you renew your lease."
Arthur blinked lazily and nodded. His finger continued to mindlessly trace the numbers as he hummed in acknowledgement, signaling Eames to go on.
There was something in the way that Eames didn't respond right away that made Arthur's mind stir with unsettled attention. He saw Eames' throat constricted as he swallowed and shifted, hoping there was nothing wrong. His heart began to pound in his chest with each passing moment and something looked off. Something in Eames' face was hesitant, like he didn't want to say something.
"They offered me a promotion at the ad firm," Eames whispered softly after a moment and a weak smile curled the corners of his lips.
The fact that there was no glaring problem in this statement only served to set Arthur more on edge. But he managed to smile and reached up to stroke Eames' jaw and murmur, "Congratulations."
Eames' smile widened in the slightest as he tilted his head into Arthur's touch. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you, but I was thinking…" He trailed off, the hesitation back and Arthur saw tension knot his shoulders.
This pause wasn't as long before Eames licked his lip and said, "But I was thinking that, about a year or a year and a half from now, when you're well into eighteen, I could invest in a better place with my new salary. And perhaps it could be a better place with only one bedroom, but a king-sized bed with two nightstands, two closets, two places in the garage…"
The smile that spread across Arthur's lips was uncontrollable. He shifted and craned his neck to kiss Eames' lips hard, though the smile kept it from being anything too serious.
When Eames' hands touched his jaw, he whispered happily, "I'd love to."
"God, your dimples are wonderful," Eames whispered distractedly after a moment, pressing down on them with his thumbs. Arthur only laughed quietly and spread his fingers across Eames' collarbone.
"So how did you want me to go about leasing?"
"Well," Eames' eyes were still a bit too low to be on Arthur's, his gaze sidetracked as he stroked Arthur's cheek. "I was thinking you could sign for one more year and then for that half of a year, you could just save the hassle and move down here with me… If you so desired. Or you could sign for another year and then sub-"
"We'll see how good you are to me and I'll decide then," Arthur cut him off playfully, though his fingers pressed into Eames' skin with excitement. Eames chuckled lowly.
"Oh, you know I'll be wonderful for you, darling."
Though he still couldn't find it in himself to stop smiling, Arthur ducked his head and kisses Eames again. This time it was slower, deeper, but he was still grinning. Eames purred quietly beneath him as he nipped at those lips.
"Another thing," Eames murmured a bit breathlessly into his mouth. "This new setup might require me to travel overseas."
Arthur gave a hum of acknowledgement and licked at Eames' lower lip. Eames sucked on his tongue gently.
"To Europe."
When Arthur finally pulled away he cocked an eyebrow, feeling like there was something pointed in this statement, but he wasn't quite sure of what. So he waited for elaboration, which came a moment later.
"To places like London, Paris… Rome."
It clicked and Arthur's eyes went wide.
The soft smile was back in place in the corner of Eames' lips. "I'm sure I could pull a few strings and get a second ticket if I ever went to Rome and you, darling, could look at all of the Roman architecture that you'd like."
That statement led to another kiss. One that was slower than the last, deeper than the last, one that ended in Arthur bent over the arm of the couch, breathless and writhing, Eames behind him equally breathless and groaning. Afterwards, they were in the same position as before, with Arthur spread atop Eames, but this time without clothes between them. The same shitty movie was still playing in the background.
Eames plucked two cigarettes from the box on the coffee table before grabbing Arthur's lighter. Arthur took one and set it between his lips as Eames did, craning his neck to ignite the tip before he inhaled deeply and plucked the cigarette from his lips, resting his cheek on Eames' chest as his breath came out on smoke.
"I should probably repair the smoke detectors before moving out," Eames mused quietly before chuckling. Arthur felt the sound vibrate through Eames' skin and he smiled, lifting his head. He held his cigarette between his index and middle finger off to the side.
"That's probably a good idea," he said lightly and leaned in to kiss those nicotine-stained lips.
Arthur wasn't sure, but he guessed hours later, when their cigarettes were forgotten butts in the ash tray and when their eyelids were difficult to keep open, that the same horrible movie was still playing just before he fell asleep with his head on Eames' chest, Eames' fingers tangled loosely in the curls of his hair.
Arthur's Author's Note II: Oh my god you all are amazing c: Thank you so very much for the wonderful comments and your support; they have made posting this story worth while. I hope it lived up to your expectations in every single way and thank you, thank you, thank you again C: ♥
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 | Part Three
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Eames slipped a beer into Arthur's hand just before the set began, touched Arthur's lower back with his newly freed hand and raised his own beer glass as he murmured in Arthur's ear, "To your birthday."
Arthur laughed and raised his own glass, touched it to Eames' before taking a drink. He made a slight face at the taste, his brow scrunching because beer had never really been his cup of tea.
"I know, I'm sorry this place isn't classy enough for you," Eames said teasingly upon seeing Arthur's expression. "They didn't have wine. Besides, I'm sure beer will be your fancy when you're actually legal."
"Speaking of, shouldn't you not be supplying me with this?"
The dim lighting of the bar highlighted Eames' upper lip as he grinned wider. "I have to do my part to contribute to the delinquency of minors. Besides, no one fucking cares."
It was true. Arthur glanced around at the small space cleared in front of the pathetic excuse for a stage and saw far more men than he saw women. And all of them were holding drinks in their hands-and the age minimum for the show wasn't twenty-one. They were standing pretty far back relative to other parts of the bar, but there really wasn't such a thing as too far away from the slightly raised platform. It wasn't too crowded, though. If Arthur actually took the time to count, it really wouldn't come out to be a large number.
And everyone seemed out to have a good time.
Arthur's attention was drawn forward again as the lights dimmed in the slightest and cheers came from around them. He was aware of how close Eames was standing to him, how Eames' black, button-up was brushing against his arm, how Eames had yet to remove his hand from Arthur's lower back.
God damn it, that hand didn't move. Well, it did-it moved up, it moved down, but it didn't move away. Not as the concert started and the band opened with Killer Queen, which was one of Arthur's personal favorites, not as a man who looked strikingly like Freddie Mercury slid gracefully though demandingly around the small space of the platform. Just as Arthur made a mental note that the guy was actually pretty impressive for not being Freddie Mercury, that hand moved up in the slightest and killed that train of thought.
It wasn't fair and Arthur wished that he would just get used to things not being fair with Eames. But he couldn't. Not yet, at least.
The air around them grew hotter as more bodies filled in and Arthur pressed a little closer to Eames. Their heads were now close and he nursed his beer slowly. Arthur turned his head just enough to see Eames' eyes scanning the slight change in the venue, his gaze sliding over each new person easily. And there was the calculation, the adaption, and when Eames' hand slid briefly aside to grip Arthur's hip, Arthur smiled widely.
"He's pretty good, yeah?" Eames noted in his ear a bit later, during the end of The Show Must Go On.
Arthur nodded and his gaze still sideways upon Eames, who waited a bit before leaning in to kiss his cheek.
The next song was Don't Stop Me Now and they both raised their beer glasses and couldn't stop laughing for a long moment.
It was a couple of songs later, after We are the Champions, Under Pressure and during Another One Bites the Dust-Eames had let out a whoop as they announced it-that Arthur was able to watch the way the lead singer moved. And, not only did he look strikingly like Freddie Mercury, but he dressed like him and moved like him too. Which meant short, white gym shorts and a fitting, white tank-top that did nothing to hide the way his hips sauntered and jutted forward when he strutted, the way his back and arm muscles would move with each elaborated movement.
Arthur was, once again, very aware of Eames' hand on the dip of his back. He bit his lower lip and looked sideways once more, finding that Eames was watching him as well. Those eyes were dark beneath the shadows of his long lashes, the very outline of his face illuminated by the ever shifting stage lighting. The stubble along his jaw looked nearly blonde, much lighter than his hair, which fell mostly in shadows across the top of his forehead. And those lips, one corner of those lips was highlighted and fell into a gradual gradient until they blended in with the other shadows across his skin.
He was beautiful.
And Arthur's heart nearly drowned out the bass petal as Eames leaned in and kissed him once, but it was a lingering, promising kiss. One that ended on a note that swore to be continued.
Both of their cups were empty once the last song rolled around and was, of course, Bohemian Rhapsody. The entire crowd acted as the chorus and Arthur couldn't stop smiling as he and Eames joined in, raising their cups and leaning close to each other as they screamed with everyone else to "let him go".
Honestly? It was the best time Arthur had ever had in his life.
They left the bar immediately after the show ended, Eames skillfully hailing a cab before anyone else could beat them to it. They slid inside, both of them still smiling and Arthur's ears rang in the quiet noise of the night. He felt a bit buzzed but not drunk, just warm. Comfortable and elated. He let his body sink into the seat as Eames directed the driver and the cab began to move. He watched as Eames settled back into his seat and then looked him, smiled wider, and slowly slid a hand across the backseat, towards him. Those fingers were extended, but didn't touch him; they came about an inch short. So Arthur slipped his hand atop them.
"Am I finally getting laid tonight?" he murmured softly, words tilted with a slight, teasing tone.
Eames chuckled quietly and glanced down his tie again. "We'll see."
He closed his fingers tightly around Eames' and wished so.
It was only a few minutes before the cab pulled up to their apartment complex and Eames hurriedly paid the driver. They moved quickly, like there was an unspoken urgency in their actions, and, once they were safely inside Eames' apartment with the chain lock in place, their bodies were close, mouths and hands demanding upon each other. Eames' touch was hot through the cloth of Arthur's shirt and against his chilled skin where sweat had begun to bead from the heat of the bar. Somehow, they both managed to kick their shoes off and then Eames' fingers tangled themselves in the end of his tie, yanked him further into the kiss. Arthur's knees went weak.
"Been wanting to do that all night," Eames growled into his lips, the words hot and tasting like the faintest hint of alcohol. Yes, Ariadne was getting a wonderful lunch or dinner at some point.
Arthur didn't have a chance to respond before Eames-purposefully or not, Arthur didn't know-pushed the knot of the tie while pulling it down, tightening it around his throat. His face felt hot with that, his pulse now prominent against his collar and each heartbeat constricted around his throat. When Eames sucked on his lower lip, a breathless groan slipped from his mouth and he curled his fingers tightly in Eames' shirt, tugging on it a bit demandingly because, god damn it, this needed to happen tonight. Especially with the way the heat was rising to his head and making him dizzy.
A low chuckle slipped from Eames' lips and he slid his hands around Arthur's body and to his lower back. He pulled him close, pressing their bodies together and Arthur could feel the firmness of Eames' muscles through the fabric of their shirts.
"Are you getting laid tonight?" Eames purred mockingly and cupped Arthur's jaw, tilted his head and then kissed along to his ear. Arthur lolled his head back, elongating his neck and the pressure from his tie only intensified, leaving him breathless.
Eames, again, didn't give him a chance to respond-were Arthur's thoughts not all muddied and indistinguishable, he would have sworn that Eames just liked to hear himself talk-before he stepped forward, forcing him back, back and back until he found himself against a wall. Eames' leg wormed its way between his own and pressed a thigh to his crotch, causing his body to twitch and he groaned huskily.
"You want me to fuck you," Eames breathed hotly into his ear. He shuddered, going momentarily boneless against the wall. "Are you getting laid tonight?"
"Eames," he tried to growl, though the words came lowly on a husky breath.
"Yes, darling?"
Arthur's mind momentarily caught on that word. Darling. The fucker moved his thigh then, circling it against Arthur's half-hard cock and he clenched his eyes shut, his limbs beginning to tingle with the pressure against his throat and the heat spreading through his body at the stimulation. Eames' teeth scraped against his earlobe and, as was this maddening trend with Eames, Arthur never stood a fucking chance.
"Darling, am I going to fuck you tonight?" Eames whispered breathlessly once he had coaxed Arthur fully erect, his voice husky and rough against Arthur's ear.
"Yes," Arthur finally breathed harshly, the word coming out amidst shallow pants.
"Damn right I am." And there it was, even lower than before, that abrasive, merciless tone that always made Arthur's heart leap to his throat. This time was no different.
Eames' body was off of his and he didn't need any coaxing before they both stumbled towards the bedroom, Eames' hands sliding up and down his back as he kept his finger hooked within Eames' belt loop. He didn't bother to loosen the tie; he didn't want to loosen the tie. The pressure set his nerves to attention and subtly kindled the buzzed heat already spreading across his skin from the beer. He took a brief moment to be grateful that Eames hadn't gotten him drunk-first off, that would have made walking with the tie constricting his throat so much more difficult and secondly because he wanted to remember every moment of this.
He somehow knew that Eames knew that.
When Arthur was close to the bed, Eames' hand abruptly clamped around his side and turned him before shoving him down onto the mattress. It was honestly a bit disorienting at first but he couldn't help but grin subtly as he moved back onto the bed and watched as Eames crawl towards him, eyes smoldering. Eames' body was soon hovering over his and those lips were soon back upon his own, pushing and pulling insistently. Arthur licked Eames' mouth and shuddered as he felt those fingertips slip down his jaw and the side of his neck.
An interested sound vibrated in Eames' mouth as his touch rested at Arthur's collar. Arthur didn't move, his fingers curled gently in the bed sheets, and just felt the way those fingers prodded experimentally at the collar and then the tie.
"Feels a bit tight," Eames whispered into his lips, fingers now touching the knot of his tie. They didn't loosen it, however. "Did I do that?"
Arthur nodded subtly and nipped at Eames' upper lip. He felt those lips curl in the slightest and the light pressure of Eames' fingers pressing into the knot. Eames didn't say anything and still didn't adjust the tie before his fingers slid down between them and plucked open the buttons of Arthur's shirt. Arthur pulled his hands from the bed to do the same to Eames' shirt, his fingers moving quicker and Eames was just finishing his last button before he pushed the black shirt down Eames' shoulders.
Eames sat up on his knees and did the rest. He folded his shoulders back and pulled his arms from the sleeves, his eyes dark beneath his lashes and upon Arthur. Not quite upon Arthur's eyes, but a bit lower… On his throat, Arthur realized and that made him swallow hard, his hands sliding uselessly down the ridges of Eames' stomach.
After Eames set his shirt carelessly aside, it was a long moment before he moved again. His gaze was fixed upon the tie against Arthur's skin and the look only served to increase the pressure tenfold. Arthur was then very aware of the way his pulse pounded beneath the confinement, the way it made his breath scrape against his throat, the way it made his head feel just slightly lighter than usual. He watched Eames watch him and those eyes on him like that, that hungry, greedy gaze, made his body arch and his fingers curled tightly against Eames' skin.
Eames' fingers were slow and deft when they finally pulled the tie free. The air was then cold in Arthur's lungs and sent his head in an entirely different sort of rush. His breathing was shallow and husky and he was shaking as Eames coaxed him into a sitting position and pulled the tie from his collar before slipping his shirt off.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he purred in Arthur's ear before nipping sharply at Arthur's earlobe, making him twitch and grunt and he really wasn't sure of what that statement meant, but he didn't really care as his shirt was discarded.
A firm palm to his chest shoved him back down onto the bed and Eames' weight was atop him, the hot skin of their chests sliding together. Arthur curled his fingers tightly in Eames' hair with a low sound and yanked him in to ignite another merciless kiss, their teeth clanking together. He sucked Eames' tongue into his mouth and he felt the way the man above him shivered. His hands slid from Eames' hair and down the burning skin on the back of Eames' neck, shoulder blades, spine. The muscles shifted beneath his fingers and he loved feeling as if he was the one manipulating Eames' body, the one making it move and arch and twist, the one making it flush and heat up the residing sweat from the concert.
Eames moaned when he kneaded the skin at the dip in Eames' lower back and Arthur knew that he was the one doing all of these things. The thought made him bite at Eames' lower lip a bit harshly and he growled breathlessly when he received a low, almost threatening sound in return.
Arthur exhaled harshly and tilted his head as those lips slid from his own and across his jaw, the contrasting feeling of Eames' tongue and teeth against his skin making his head spin just a bit more. He felt Eames' lips slip downwards to begin seducing and manipulating the skin on the side of his neck and Eames bit down hard, an obscene sound smacking from his lips as he sucked and Arthur could barely breathe for that moment.
And then Eames dropped his hips and rutted against him. The friction of Eames' hard cock against his own, even while layered with the maddening fabric of their pants, was hot and rough and Arthur really didn't have a hope of breathing at that point.
A broken sound dripped from Arthur's lips as Eames repeated that motion once, twice, again, and again all the while sucking a bruise into the skin of his neck. He dug his fingers into the firm skin of Eames' back and distantly loved the low sound that vibrated against his throat.
"E- Eames-" Arthur grunted breathlessly because he was only sixteen-seventeen, he had only just turned seventeen and he was hot, dizzy, hard, so painfully hard and that friction-
Eames must have understood because he was gone, then. Gone entirely, with his lips pulled from Arthur's throat, his chest withdrawn from Arthur's own, his hips sliding away. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed and he rested his shaking hand atop them, not wanting to look at the way the room was spinning just enough to be uncomfortable around him. He caught his breath, breathing harshly and shallowly even as Eames' fingers fiddled with the button and zipper of his pants. Arthur was hot. Too hot, he didn't recall ever being this hot for anyone, not even for Eames before. Sweat was already beginning to gather in the crook of his knees and along the dip of his collarbone.
"Your neck looks so lovely with a hickey on it," Eames whispered huskily from above him and Arthur felt a pointed tug on his pants. He lifted his hips and pulled his legs from them when he was able and waited another long moment before shakily withdrawing his hand from his face, laying it uselessly on the bed as he cracked his eyes open. Eames' dark gaze was fixed upon his throat again.
"Good thing I don't live with my parents anymore." Arthur's voice was far more breathless and husky than he had ever heard it. Eames gave a wry smile in return.
"Good thing," he whispered and leaned over to kiss Arthur's lip gently, though just slow enough and just long enough to make Arthur's body arch with want.
It didn't take very long for Eames to pull Arthur's socks underwear off and then hurriedly undo his own pants, discarding the rest of his clothing rather easily. Eames paused, his eyes smoldering and hungry as they swept across Arthur's skin, making Arthur's body twitch with anticipation in their wake. The look made Arthur's breath rush from his lungs for that moment and he wanted. He wanted Eames' body against his, all skin and nothing else, all heavy and hot friction, but he was slightly relieved when Eames crawled to his nightstand.
Because, again, seventeen. He already wasn't going to last long as it was.
Eames' body elongated beautifully as he reached over and pulled a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer. Arthur turned on his side and reached out, touching one of the notches in the man's spine and grinned subtly at the way Eames purred.
He turned back over once Eames slunk back and touched his thigh with a maddening touch that made his skin tingle before settling between his legs. As Eames popped the bottle cap open, Arthur took that moment and stared at the ink tainting Eames skin, at the ripples across his chest and stomach, at his cock. He was big, far bigger than any toy Arthur had ever used and Arthur's heart demanded his attention for a brief moment.
He made a mental note to trace those tattoos and ask about them when they were done because, really, they were beautiful. They made him want a tattoo. Or even a piercing. Something for Eames to look at.
"Bend your knees, darling."
Eames set the bottle down briefly, lathering his dripping fingers, but Arthur was, again, caught on 'darling'.
Darling.
He did as he was told, his legs spreading further with the motion, and then shudders violently as one of those cold fingertips slid across his entrance. Some of the lube dripped down his ass and onto the bed.
It wasn't the stretch of Eames' finger slipping inside Arthur that made him moan. It was the smooth, cool slide of it, the way it twisted within him slowly, the way it was Eames' finger. And it felt so good as Eames stretched the digit, crooked it, as his other hand cupped Arthur's thigh tightly, holding his leg open. His palm was hot and damp.
Arthur felt the finger twist once more before another slipped in and the stretch was more noticeable, more like the width of his vibrator. But Eames' fingers could stretch and spread and Arthur twitched beneath them, a shaking sound leaking from his swollen lips. He closed his eyes, the image of Eames' dark eyes weighing down on his skin burned into the insides of his eyelids.
"Am I better than your toy?" Arthur could distantly hear the crooked smirk on Eames' lips and he smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle in response.
Eames worked those fingers inside him for a long moment, stretching and crooking and twisting them thoroughly, making Arthur's body hot and desperate. He was trembling with the way his nerves were wired, ready to jump at even the slightest touch. Like when Eames began to thumb the sensitive skin of the inside of his thigh. And then those fingers paused, pressed against him uncomfortably, and the sting of the third finger made his eyes burn subtly.
The digits sat within him for a long moment, just letting his body adjust and slowly relax against the intrusion. Arthur slowly opened his eyes and Eames hadn't moved. He was still staring at him with lustful eyes, the restraint obvious in his tense jaw. Arthur wondered briefly just what Eames was holding back.
He twitched aggressively as those fingers crept to life within him, each one slowly extending. Arthur struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt Eames' fingers spread, the sharp ache making his brow crease. They turned inside him and pressed out against him, stretching him open, preparing him for-f-for-god, finally.
Arthur's skin set to fire as Eames pulled those fingers out, pushed them back in, again, finger fucked him slowly for a long while. He arched, fingers scrambling in the bed sheets beneath him. It soon became maddening as the want and heat threaded through his gut, and Eames began to finger him harder, harder, deeper, and Arthur swore he heard a low growl drip from those sinful lips.
"Fuck," he cursed beneath his breath, his mind slowly going to pieces with the way those thrusts were intensifying. A familiar pressure weighed down in his gut and then Eames hit his prostate, forcing his body into a dizzying and weightless pleasure that made his spine angle and made him moan loudly.
Then they were gone. All three of them, swiftly withdrawn from Arthur and he crashed back to his body as the heightened pressure painfully faded away. He let out a keening sound, eyes clenched shut as he trembled and tried to curl in on himself. But Eames didn't let him and stroked his thigh gently, leaning over to touch his cheek with his dirty hand.
"Shh, almost," he whispered, his low voice shaking and Arthur knew he wasn't the only one who needed this anymore.
He wondered if he was ever the only one who needed it to begin with. He distantly listened to Eames shift and tear open the condom and he wondered just how long.
"Eames," he breathed shakily, cracking his eyes open just in time to watch Eames fist the condom on. He swallows tightly before continuing, "I-I wanted this since I first saw you in your doorway…"
A gentle smile curled Eames' lips as he shakily poured a bit more lube into his palm. He met Arthur's gaze once more and murmured, "I know. I know, me too. Your arse looked delicious in those trousers."
Eames' smile morphed into a slight smirk and Arthur laughed breathlessly.
"I know. It's why I wear them." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, inhaling deeply and shakily. "Your lips looked delicious with a cigarette within them."
The chuckle that slipped from said lips was a bit broken, strained, and Arthur knew that Eames was lathering himself. He opened his eyes to watch. "It's why I smoke them," Eames said breathlessly, his eyes dark though the grin was still curling his lips no matter how weakly.
"And your accent," Arthur continued weakly as he watched Eames lean forward, grip his hip. "It's not even fair." Now he was just babbling out of nervousness and Eames smiled gently, affectionately.
"I admit I have no control over that," he whispered and his other hand disappeared between himself and Arthur. "Are you ready, darling?"
Darling.
Arthur swallowed tightly and exhaled, watching Eames' dark eyes for a long moment before nodding.
The pressure of Eames pressing into him made his mind finally fall entirely to pieces. He was hot, hard and it hurt, it really did, with the burn of Eames slowly pushing into him deeper and deeper. Arthur's hands flew back up to his face and he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, his fingers curling tightly within his hair as his lips parted and tried to breathe. Tried. He was only able when Eames finally stopped, leaving him full and tense, his muscles wound tightly.
Eames' hand was shaking and hot as it stroked his chest gently. "Arthur, look at me." His voice was wrecked.
Arthur did after a moment. He withdrew his fingers and stared up at Eames, his head spinning and weightless with the pleasure and clashing pain. Eames quickly and a bit clumsily slipped his fingers between Arthur's and pressed them to the bed.
"Relax," he whispered huskily, the words barely distinguishable from the harsh breaths that escaped his lips. "R-Relax, I got you, I'll take care of you."
Arthur believed him. He really did. It was several deep, shaking breaths later that he managed to calm himself in the slightest, but it was enough.
Eames began to move, a slow drag of his hips, in, out. Arthur closed his eyes again and clamped his fingers around Eames', which returned the grip just as tightly and kept his hands pinned to the sheets. He felt Eames do this over and over, just as slowly and he felt the heat of Eames' body hover closer to his own. He groaned huskily as Eames kissed sloppily up his neck and to his ear.
"How are you?" The words were, again, tense and hot against the sensitive skin of his ear. Arthur didn't respond for a long moment. He waited until the slow pace was maddening, just like it had been with Eames' fingers. He waited until he craved more, even in the wake of the blistering ache.
"More," he breathed out eventually and turned his head to scrape his teeth against the stubble of Eames' jaw. Eames bit the shell of his ear in return before he withdrew, his weight and heat just a bit further away, but not far enough for it to be lost on Arthur.
Arthur opened his eyes just in time to see tension line Eames' shoulders, to feel the more demanding press of his hands against the mattress, to feel the more insistent drive inside him. The pain flared but it was hot, hot just like the pleasure and Arthur shuddered violently as Eames fucked him faster and just a bit harder. And then just a bit harder. And then just a bit harder.
It was clear the restraint had disappeared from Eames' motions. Arthur groaned huskily at the more demanding pace inside him, his eyes rolling back briefly before he caught a brief glance of the way the tendons in Eames' neck protruded when he tilted his head back. Arthur writhed and arched, his nails now digging into the skin of Eames' hand and his eyes finally closed. He was panting harshly, each breath scraping against his drying throat and, when he licked his lips, he tasted the salt of sweat.
His own hips picked up the rhythm subtly and the sound that echoed from above him was dark and made him grit his teeth. He opened his eyes again, his own eyes glazed and red with the lingering reminder of the pain from beneath his lashes. He opened his eyes again because he wanted to watch the way Eames' body moved, he wanted to watch the way the ink morphed with the tensing of the muscles beneath, he wanted to watch the sweat drip down Eames' chest.
He wanted to watch Eames fall apart.
No, he wanted to feel Eames fall apart. He wanted to feel Eames, the movements, the tensing, the sweat.
So he jerked his hands sideways, just enough to send a hint, and Eames' weight was then heavy atop him. Their hands didn't disconnect, but now Arthur could feel Eames' chest sliding against his own, could feel Eames' thighs press more insistently to his own. It all felt like suffocation, with Eames' weight solid against him, with the heat-he could no longer tell whose sweat was on his skin-and with the way his head spun hopelessly, but he only held Eames' hands tighter and groaned.
The sound morphed into a shrill, shaking moan as Eames drove right into his prostate and there was the curling pressure in his gut. His limbs began to tingle with the overwhelming pleasure and a quick, "Eames" came out on a harsh breath.
His hips jerked to a halt because Eames smirked subtly and rested his lips in Arthur's sweaty hair before aiming for that spot over and over again. Aiming and hitting; Arthur was reduced to twitching and arching and his toes curled as he came closer with each drive.
All of the breath fled his lungs as he came, a jagged and choked sound escaping with it. He clenched his eyes shut, twitching body pressing up into Eames', even as those thrusts kept coming, riding him through his orgasm.
Arthur grit his teeth as he began to come down and breathed heavily through his nose, the pain now more demanding than the pleasure with each thrust but Eames stopped soon enough, his hands tightening mercilessly around Arthur's as he growled huskily and came.
As he listened to the way Eames' breathing stopped in that moment, Arthur briefly ached to feel Eames spill inside him.
Eames' body began to tremble violently as he drew in a hot breath and finished. He managed to pull out of Arthur, a move that made Arthur's brow crease and his lips part with a weak sound, before sitting up on his knees and pulling off the condom. As he went to discard it, Arthur carefully turned onto his side and curled up, shuddering violently as the sweat chilled on his skin.
But it wasn't too long before Eames was behind him, his body fitting nicely against Arthur's. Eames was all warm and hot and kisses to the back of his head.
"I didn't even need to touch you." The words were scratchy against damp hair and very clearly delivered with a subtle grin. Arthur laughed tiredly and closed his eyes.
"Guess not," he mumbled lowly in return and pressed his back firmly to Eames' chest.
There was a pause and, now that his heart was calm, Arthur could still hear the faint ringing in his ears from earlier.
"Happy birthday," Eames whispered after a moment and Arthur smiled.
"It was my favorite birthday."
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'Don't Stop Me Now' went off at 10:08 the next morning.
Arthur just smiled and turned, pressed his body more firmly to Eames', tangled their legs together and dozed to Freddie Mercury's voice with his head tucked beneath Eames' chin. He idly traced the swirl curling up Eames' bicep.
|.|.|
A few days later, Arthur took Ariadne out to dinner to her favorite Italian restaurant.
He wore his tie and they laughed when the waiter insinuated that they were on a date.
|.|.|
They set the alarm back to ten every morning after that. Just because Arthur found his days were better when he started them with laying in bed with Eames for a bit, listening to Queen.
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A few months later, when renewal for Arthur's lease was in the seeable future, they found themselves splayed out on Eames' couch. Arthur was settled atop Eames, had unbuttoned his shirt and had long ago given up on paying any attention to the shitty movie playing beside them as he traced the ink along Eames' chest.
"What's this one?" he murmured, tracing the outline of a stylized poker chip. His eyes were following the outside curve, so he missed the way Eames watched the crown of his head, a small smile on his lips.
"We all have our vices," Eames said lazily in return and threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair. "Your hair's getting long."
Arthur sighed and kissed the center of the poker chip. "I know. It needs to be cut."
Eames shook his head and touched a few of the curls that were growing around his neck. "No, I think it looks nice."
A subtle smile curled Arthur's lips as he glanced up before lolling his head to the side, resting his cheek on the firm muscles of Eames' chest. "Okay," he murmured tiredly in return. His finger sketched the inked number lining the underside of Eames' collarbone-a combination of sorts, apparently-and watched Eames' lips. He watched as the smile slipped from their corners, he watched as Eames' tongue slipped out and licked across the cracks lining them.
He watched the way they moved when Eames mumbled quietly after a moment, "Arthur, there's something I need to tell you before you renew your lease."
Arthur blinked lazily and nodded. His finger continued to mindlessly trace the numbers as he hummed in acknowledgement, signaling Eames to go on.
There was something in the way that Eames didn't respond right away that made Arthur's mind stir with unsettled attention. He saw Eames' throat constricted as he swallowed and shifted, hoping there was nothing wrong. His heart began to pound in his chest with each passing moment and something looked off. Something in Eames' face was hesitant, like he didn't want to say something.
"They offered me a promotion at the ad firm," Eames whispered softly after a moment and a weak smile curled the corners of his lips.
The fact that there was no glaring problem in this statement only served to set Arthur more on edge. But he managed to smile and reached up to stroke Eames' jaw and murmur, "Congratulations."
Eames' smile widened in the slightest as he tilted his head into Arthur's touch. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you, but I was thinking…" He trailed off, the hesitation back and Arthur saw tension knot his shoulders.
This pause wasn't as long before Eames licked his lip and said, "But I was thinking that, about a year or a year and a half from now, when you're well into eighteen, I could invest in a better place with my new salary. And perhaps it could be a better place with only one bedroom, but a king-sized bed with two nightstands, two closets, two places in the garage…"
The smile that spread across Arthur's lips was uncontrollable. He shifted and craned his neck to kiss Eames' lips hard, though the smile kept it from being anything too serious.
When Eames' hands touched his jaw, he whispered happily, "I'd love to."
"God, your dimples are wonderful," Eames whispered distractedly after a moment, pressing down on them with his thumbs. Arthur only laughed quietly and spread his fingers across Eames' collarbone.
"So how did you want me to go about leasing?"
"Well," Eames' eyes were still a bit too low to be on Arthur's, his gaze sidetracked as he stroked Arthur's cheek. "I was thinking you could sign for one more year and then for that half of a year, you could just save the hassle and move down here with me… If you so desired. Or you could sign for another year and then sub-"
"We'll see how good you are to me and I'll decide then," Arthur cut him off playfully, though his fingers pressed into Eames' skin with excitement. Eames chuckled lowly.
"Oh, you know I'll be wonderful for you, darling."
Though he still couldn't find it in himself to stop smiling, Arthur ducked his head and kisses Eames again. This time it was slower, deeper, but he was still grinning. Eames purred quietly beneath him as he nipped at those lips.
"Another thing," Eames murmured a bit breathlessly into his mouth. "This new setup might require me to travel overseas."
Arthur gave a hum of acknowledgement and licked at Eames' lower lip. Eames sucked on his tongue gently.
"To Europe."
When Arthur finally pulled away he cocked an eyebrow, feeling like there was something pointed in this statement, but he wasn't quite sure of what. So he waited for elaboration, which came a moment later.
"To places like London, Paris… Rome."
It clicked and Arthur's eyes went wide.
The soft smile was back in place in the corner of Eames' lips. "I'm sure I could pull a few strings and get a second ticket if I ever went to Rome and you, darling, could look at all of the Roman architecture that you'd like."
That statement led to another kiss. One that was slower than the last, deeper than the last, one that ended in Arthur bent over the arm of the couch, breathless and writhing, Eames behind him equally breathless and groaning. Afterwards, they were in the same position as before, with Arthur spread atop Eames, but this time without clothes between them. The same shitty movie was still playing in the background.
Eames plucked two cigarettes from the box on the coffee table before grabbing Arthur's lighter. Arthur took one and set it between his lips as Eames did, craning his neck to ignite the tip before he inhaled deeply and plucked the cigarette from his lips, resting his cheek on Eames' chest as his breath came out on smoke.
"I should probably repair the smoke detectors before moving out," Eames mused quietly before chuckling. Arthur felt the sound vibrate through Eames' skin and he smiled, lifting his head. He held his cigarette between his index and middle finger off to the side.
"That's probably a good idea," he said lightly and leaned in to kiss those nicotine-stained lips.
Arthur wasn't sure, but he guessed hours later, when their cigarettes were forgotten butts in the ash tray and when their eyelids were difficult to keep open, that the same horrible movie was still playing just before he fell asleep with his head on Eames' chest, Eames' fingers tangled loosely in the curls of his hair.
Arthur's Author's Note II: Oh my god you all are amazing c: Thank you so very much for the wonderful comments and your support; they have made posting this story worth while. I hope it lived up to your expectations in every single way and thank you, thank you, thank you again C: ♥