Inception - Pretend That You're Alone (4/11)
Title: Pretend That You're Alone (4/11)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 4,040
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Yusuf, Ariadne
Rating: NC-17(this part)
Warnings: language, underage, age difference (16/32)
Summary: AU. Eames is a burned out university professor who goes to the park for lunch to get away from the chaos of his life. There he meets 16-year-old Arthur and begins to befriend him for his ability to have an intelligent conversation with him. When he discovers the boy is homeless, he decides to take care of him, but things with Arthur get more complicated than he could ever expect.
Part Four
When Eames arrived at the school that morning, he was sure he looked at least a little bit out of sorts. He'd jerked off in the shower and hurried out the door with his hair still wet because he didn't (or rather couldn't) want to be around Arthur long enough to bring up the night before and say something he'd regret.
…as if he didn't have to face him when he got back home…
It wasn't like he'd forgotten that.
At least he had some time to think about it while he was at work, choose his words carefully, explain that he'd made a mistake and it would be another thing they would not be doing again.
Oddly enough though, Arthur seemed as uncomfortable by the kiss as Eames was when he thought back on it. Maybe Arthur's awkwardness that morning hadn't been imagined, and he was as eager to pretend it didn't happen as Eames was. Maybe.
Unfortunately, the weight of his thoughts didn't go without notice for, when he was hanging up casting results in the hallway, Ariadne caught him by the arm and said, "Professor Eames… Hey, uh… are you okay?"
Eames tried not to look taken aback by the sudden inquiry, put on his best smile and said, "Of course."
"You just seemed a little out of it in class today is all, and you look really tired. Not that it's any of my business, but… is something going on at home?"
Eames fought back the urge to immediately answer 'no' and thus look more suspicious. Instead he said, "Well, thank you for taking the time to notice and inquire, but I assure you that I'm fine. I live on my own, Ariadne, so there's certainly nothing going on there."
Well, she'd said so herself that it was none of her business.
"It's about the class then, isn't it," Ariadne said dismally.
Eames blinked, pursed his lips. "The class?"
"Yeah, about how awful they're being. I mean, yeah, the majority of them showed up today, but it pisses me off that none of them ever pay attention. I think your classes are fascinating, Mr. Eames." He was surprised by how bitter she sounded.
"I appreciate that," Eames said honestly. It had been so long since he'd heard that anywhere but his own head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over me, Ariadne. I just didn't sleep well last night. I had a bad bought of insomnia, you know, and ended up fighting with myself the entire night. I'm sure I'll sleep like a little baby tonight."
She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled subtly and said, "Take care of yourself, Mr. Eames."
Eames watched her walk away, running a hand through his hair, and he wondered if he was capable of such a feat.
He stayed inside his own head after that, barely managing a nod of acknowledgement when Robert Fischer approached him to thank him for giving him the lead role. His thoughts were filled with Arthur and that kiss, the way he'd been completely unable to stop it when he felt the spark in his system. It really had made him feel less… lonely…
He didn't even go out to the park for lunch that day because it was too cold, and frankly, he didn't really feel all that hungry. He was picking at his lunch, hunched in his office chair, when Yusuf came in with his own lunch. "Oh, you do care," Yusuf said, plopping down to dig out his Tupperware to toss into the microwave. "Here I thought we'd never have lunch together again."
"I just needed to get out of this place," Eames explained as he often did to Yusuf. "I needed some time to myself."
"I know, I know, but I certainly missed the company." The microwave beeped, and Yusuf dug out the bowl, popped the top, and started to eat.
They ate in a companionable silence for a little while, but Eames's thoughts were so heavily reliant on Arthur that he couldn't help but blurt out, "How old were you when you first had sex?"
Yusuf, God bless him, wasn't disturbed by the question in the slightest, merely furrowing his brows in concentration as he tried to remember. "Ah, yes, I was eighteen. My girlfriend at the time took my virginity for my birthday. It was brill."
"How old was she?"
"Eighteen. She was a couple of months older than me. Why?"
"I ah-I was thinking about doing a study on the sexualization of young people over time," Eames lied. "You know… something to occupy my time once Christmas Break begins."
"Oh," Yusuf said, shrugging. "I'm sure there have already been plenty of studies on that, Eames."
"It's just for fun," Eames assured him.
"Research over Christmas Break does not sound like my idea of fun," Yusuf said, shaking his head, "even if it does involve looking at oodles of internet porn. You need to get out and have some fun, Eames, and by fun I mean real fun. You and I are going drinking at Christmas parties, dancing with lovely ladies, spending too much money, and hopefully getting laid. You shouldn't deny yourself of the pleasures of the world, Eames. You used to be so bright and snarky and the life of the party. Now you just hole up in that place of yours and never see anyone."
It stung, even though Eames already knew all of that. He hadn't realized it had gotten quite that bad though… and he didn't realize it had gotten so obvious… then again, Arthur had noticed, and Arthur hadn't known him nearly as long as Yusuf had. Arthur had told him not to deny himself of things by not admitting to what he wanted… but he didn't know what he wanted…
At least, not necessarily…
"I'm just awful in the winter," Eames said as an excuse, and even he thought it was a weak one. "I'll be better in the summer."
"I sure hope so, Eames. You're fading away. I've been worried about you. I gave you some space because I thought you needed some time, but you haven't gotten any better. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you, mate."
"I appreciate it, Yusuf," Eames said. "You're a good friend."
"You're damned right I am," Yusuf agreed, grinning. "Seriously though, get some enjoyment in your life, Eames. You're wearing yourself thin."
"I'll keep that in mind," Eames replied and finally managed to really dig into his lunch.
"By the way, when did you lose your virginity, since we're sharing secrets like that?" Yusuf asked curiously, decidedly changing the subject, and Yusuf was the only one who could ask Eames such a question and it not be awkward in the least. Yusuf was always so innocently curious about the world, always had been, always would be.
Still, Eames had to think about it. "I was… huh… I was sixteen."
He was Arthur's age.
He'd completely forgotten about that.
"Yeah," Eames continued, holding back his surprise over this realization to the best of his ability, "my tutor, Reina Winkle and I just kind of ended up doing it once. She was a year ahead of me and pretty in that awkward way… I wonder whatever happened to her…"
"It must not have been very good if you didn't even remember it until now," Yusuf snorted.
"Two virgins clumsily pulling at each other's clothes? I would think not," Eames chuckled. Still, it had been a particularly unsatisfying experience, like much of the sex Eames had had. He'd started to assume that maybe he'd just gotten too excited about the prospect from his friends and then when it didn't live up to the hype he was eternally disappointed. His friends had told him that he would orgasm so hard that he would see God. He had barely managed to get to the orgasm at all, and it was far from any sort of divine experience. To this day he had yet to experience it the way he'd been told he would.
It had been his friend Jules who had said that, smiling his slightly gapped teeth at him, crinkling his blue-green eyes, now that he thought about it. God, he had been something else. Eames had idolized that boy… He'd been so beautiful and perfect, a fucking powerhouse on the football field (not what the Americans called football of course but real football). Eames had followed him around constantly, and Jules, God bless him, didn't ever mind… Still, Eames had gone through every effort to impress him. The whole reason he'd slept with Reina was because he wanted the congratulations and the smack on the back that Jules had given his other friends for losing their virginity. When Jules had gotten a scholarship and left, Eames had cried hard, full of regret for all that never had been.
…What had that regret been, anyway?
It wasn't like he didn't completely know.
"You all right there, Eames?" Yusuf asked.
"What? Oh… yes. Fine. Just tired."
Jules had always been straight.
Eames arrived home late, carrying a couple of bags of clothing for Arthur (they were cheap but somewhat stylish and not nearly as dirty and holey as his other clothes), and a pack of cigarettes.
"Arthur?" he called out when he didn't see him around. He dropped the things on the couch and checked the bathroom and then the kitchen. He wasn't in either of them, nor was he out on the balcony. Of course, that only left one place for him to check.
He found Arthur curled up in the middle of his bed, in another of his shirts, this time crisp and angelic white.
Eames knelt over him and touched his shoulder. "Arthur," he said quietly, and the boy stirred, rolling onto his back to look up at him with bedroom eyes. Eames did his best to ignore it. "What are you doing in here, pet?"
Arthur blushed in embarrassment, and it was the most youthful expression Eames had seen on him besides that smile of his. "Um… well…"
"Forget it," Eames said, backing away from him when he realized how close he was to his face. "What do you want for supper, hm?"
"I don't know… whatever…" Arthur said, crawling off of the bed. Eames shouldn't have noticed that he wasn't wearing socks, padding around barefooted in his home like he was fucking Peter Pan. "Something good."
"That narrows it down," Eames said with a smirk. "How about spaghetti and meatballs? I have a special recipe my friend from school once taught me. It's quite good."
Arthur smiled, and if Eames had been a weaker man, he would have melted.
…Maybe he did melt… just a little bit.
He had kissed that mouth after all. Arthur and he had kissed in the very same kitchen they were standing in now, Arthur clumsily pressing his mouth into Eames to kiss him back as if he'd never done it before, not once. The boy who had given him a blow job like he'd been doing it for years had kissed Eames as if he'd never done it before.
Eames stirred the sauce in the pan, glancing over his shoulder as Arthur dragged in the bags of clothes to look at them, smiling in satisfaction over each article and folding them gingerly. "You didn't have to get me so much," Arthur said. "I really only needed two shirts, two pairs of pants, and two pairs of underwear."
"Well, I got you three pairs of jeans, a pair of nice trousers, four long-sleeved shirts, three short-sleeved ones, and a cardigan, and you'll wear all of them. I'm assuming you prefer boxers over briefs since you won't stop wearing mine, so I bought you a pack of those too."
"Why'd you get all of this?"
"You need something to wear if you intend to do anything besides lay around this flat all day. It wasn't expensive so don't worry about it. You like them, don't you?"
"Normally I have to lift something from the goodwill to get something this nice," Arthur said, and he genuinely meant that as a compliment. It made Eames's heart ache. "Thanks."
"…You're welcome…"
By the time Eames had finished cooking, Arthur had disappeared into the house with his new clothes and reappeared without them and smoked through three cigarettes. They sat down to eat together, and Eames even had a couple of glasses of wine. He gave Arthur cola.
"Why can't I drink wine?" Arthur complained. "Are you so selfish that you're not going to share?"
"You're not old enough to drink wine," Eames replied simply.
"Ugh… Don't they let people drink as long as they can fucking reach the bar in your homeland? Jeez, who are you trying to remind of my age, me or you?"
Eames ignored the second question and instead answered the clearly rhetorical first. "We're not in my homeland, darling. I understand that as a teenager you feel the need to rage against that machine, but-"
"Um… if I may interrupt… You do realize that we're in an enclosed space, right? One that is neither currently occupied nor surrounded by police officers? You own this place. You can do whatever the hell you want here."
"That doesn't mean that you can do whatever you want," Eames said and took another bite of spaghetti.
"Whatever," Arthur mumbled, pouting just a little before shoveling another mouthful of food into his mouth.
"Oh, don't give me that attitude," Eames said, laughing. "You're not going to trick me into giving you wine. Why don't you try acting like-"
"Like what?" Arthur asked, and suddenly he seemed angry. "Like a normal teenager?"
Eames opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur stood, and he was most definitely angry. "Maybe I'm not normal!" he shouted and knocked his plate onto the floor. The porcelain crashed loudly against the linoleum tile. "Maybe it's not as fucking simple as you telling me what to do! I do things because I want to! I never let myself be forced to do shit!"
By the end of it, Eames was wondering if Arthur was trying to convince Eames or…
Arthur stomped off and closed himself in the bathroom with a slam of the door.
Eames swept up the porcelain and wiped up the mess on the floor before going to the bathroom door and knocking. He half-expected the boy to shout at him to go away, but that didn't happen.
The door cracked open after a few minutes, and Arthur stood there, looking ashamed of himself… and terribly, terribly sad.
Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide and dark as midnight, spilling a million unsaid apologies for the broken plate, for the spoiled meal. His lip quivered just slightly, as if he was fearful, and Eames just slid his arms around him and pulled him to his chest, rocking side to side in the doorway. Arthur sniffed into his shirt, but Eames wasn't sure if he was crying or not. Eames ran his fingers through the back of Arthur's hair before resting them at the nape of his neck.
Arthur's hands slipped up Eames's back, pausing only once they reached his shoulder blades, and that was when he looked up at Eames again, lips parted slightly, a hair's breadth away.
Eames remembered Jules's gap-toothed smile that he'd dreamed about for most of his teenage life. He remembered the way Yusuf had said that he'd been wearing himself thin, disappearing. He remembered how Ariadne had worried about him. He remembered how Arthur had told him to stop denying himself, how Yusuf had said the same damned thing.
…and he was in an enclosed space neither occupied nor surrounded by police officers. He owned the place. He could do whatever he wanted.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur's, and Arthur opened up for him without hesitation, arms coming to circle around his neck. Arthur had to stand on his tip-toes as he whimpered and let his tongue slip between Eames's teeth. Eames licked against the roof of Arthur's mouth, leaning further over to make it easier on the boy.
When Eames finally broke the kiss, both of them were nearly breathless… but instead of apologizing and retreating, Eames kissed him again, and again Arthur let him, stumbling backwards until his back met the wall, and then Eames was gasping as Arthur kissed his chin and then down his jugular… soft, tiny kisses that were so innocent that Eames remembered what they were doing.
Eames stepped away just a little from the boy so that he would stop, and Arthur looked up at him again, hands pressed firmly against his chest. "Hi," he said, smiling lazily.
"Hi," Eames replied, voice low and gravelly, and whatever he'd been planning to say had been forgotten as he dove back in for another kiss. It was sloppy, filthy, and definitely never the way he'd kissed anyone before.
Arthur jumped, hooking his arms more tightly around his neck and then wrapping his legs around his waist, and Eames could feel the hard line of his erection pressing against his abdomen. He blindly staggered across the room until he reached his bedroom and then collapsed into the bed with him, hand running up underneath his shirt to feel the burning hot skin underneath.
He broke contact and sat back, straddling the boy's waist to look down at him. His mouth was swollen and bitten red, and the shirt he was wearing was so snow white… except for a speckle of red spaghetti sauce, a shocking brightness on the fabric, a blemish on the perfect pallor.
"We… We shouldn't do this," Eames said then, even as his own cock was absolutely aching in his trousers.
"I don't mind it, it's cool, just-" Arthur tried to say, but Eames was shaking his head.
"I… I can't. I can't just-It's wrong. Everything I've ever known has told me so. Everything my parents and my teachers ever taught me…"
"Is it because I'm sixteen? Or is it because I'm a man?" Arthur asked.
Eames opened his mouth to answer but realized that he couldn't.
"I was in love with a boy once," Eames said instead, and it even hurt his heart to say. "I never told him. I thought something was wrong with me… I know that psychologically, it's-not necessarily-not-that is-but…"
He looked down at Arthur. "I'm not… I'm not doing this just because you're beautiful."
"You just don't want to be lonely anymore," Arthur replied as if he'd been inside Eames's skull all along... as if Eames was so transparent that he could see right through him.
Eames swallowed thickly and nodded. "Y-yeah…"
Arthur spread his arms out around him. "Kiss me."
"No… I can't."
"Yes, you can. I don't mind… I'll take your loneliness away. I know how to-"
Eames ran a finger down Arthur's cheekbone, and he shivered from just that touch alone. "Arthur… may I ask you a personal question?"
"Depends," he replied, eyelashes fluttering. He already looked so wrecked, so gorgeously wrecked.
"Did you sell yourself for money?"
Arthur turned his face into Eames's touch. "I gave blow jobs but that's it. You'd be surprised what people would be willing to pay for a little bit of touch…" Arthur reached up and dragged his hand down Eames's chest, stopping right at his belt. "I like it when you touch me, Eames," he said. "Do it."
"I don't want you to… to go out and do that with other men anymore, Arthur. You have the things you need here, all right?"
Arthur snorted in frustration and then lifted his hips against Eames, rubbing against his cock and making him yelp. "Whatever, just… you need to do something about that. It's distracting my hormone-addled teenage mind."
"I won't… I won't have sex with you," Eames told him, but he was wondering if he was trying to convince Arthur or himself. By the way his mind had supplied 'no matter how much I want to' to the end of the sentence, he was inclined to believe it was the latter.
"Fine," Arthur said, shoving Eames off of him so that they were lying next to one another on the bed. "Let's just jack off together then. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
Actually there was plenty wrong with that, but Eames was so overcome with the heat of his arousal that he couldn't clearly think of what exactly it was.
…and besides, Arthur was already tugging down his own boxer shorts, letting his swollen red prick spring forth. "You can touch me if you want," Arthur said, smirking, and oh, Eames wanted to.
"Bloody tease," Eames growled, fumbling with his belt. As soon as he finally had the belt free, Arthur grabbed the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoned and unzipped them. He tugged them down, underwear and all and wrapped his hand around his cock, making Eames choke on a sound. "What are you doing-"
"You jack me, and I'll jack you," Arthur said heatedly. "It's more fun that way."
"This isn't fucking Candy Land," Eames tried to joke, but it was lost in the pant of his voice.
"Want to bet?" Arthur asked and ducked down to lave at the head with the tip of his tongue, licking off beads of pre-come.
Eames shouted, hips bucking against his will. "Bloody hell," he gasped.
"I knew you liked it," Arthur said devilishly. "You sure you don't want to do it? Mr. Eames?" The way he said his name was absolutely obscene.
Eames shoved him down and kissed him so quickly that he felt their teeth click. Arthur writhed underneath him, pressing up against his thigh and rolling his hips to get some sort of friction and Eames was suddenly rocking down on Arthur's thin thigh as well. He paused in his movement as soon as he was aware of it and wrapped his hand around Arthur's cock, jerking him feverishly, and Arthur yelped, eyes rolling back in his head. "Yes, please-ah-just like that-ah-"
Arthur's hands gripped Eames's ass, and he moaned, and that made Eames's cock spill pre-come against his stomach.
"Hey," Arthur said roughly, "I'm supposed to be the one with a hair trigger here. Aren't I so young and impressionable?"
"Don't mock me, you little shite," Eames groaned, tracing a finger along Arthur's bottom lip until the boy decided to take it into his mouth and sucked.
Arthur removed one hand from Eames's ass and started jerking Eames off in the same rhythm that Eames was doing him. The little fucker really was a demon, if that cocky little smirk on his face was any indication, and frankly Eames shouldn't have found it nearly as attractive as he did (admittedly, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that his hands were around his prick).
"Ah-" Arthur squeaked, and that was all he did before all of his muscles clenched and he was spilling messily all over himself.
Eames groaned. Seeing Arthur's ruddy, slack-jawed face was all he needed to make him topple over the edge. White spots filled his vision, and for a moment he forgot that he was even on the earth. He'd never felt anything quite so glorious in his whole fucking life, and he couldn't help but think that this had been what Jules had been talking about when he said he would see God.
When it was over and the fuzziness slowly leaked out of his eyes and ears, he found himself lying on the mattress again, Arthur leaning over him with that boyish little grin on his face.
"We shouldn't have done that," Eames said, but he couldn't stop the stupid grin plastered across his face. "We never should have even come close to doing that…"
"There's a lot of things in the world we shouldn't do," Arthur whispered before he knelt down and kissed him again.
He kissed Eames softly until Eames fell into the deepest sleep he'd ever experienced.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 4,040
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Yusuf, Ariadne
Rating: NC-17(this part)
Warnings: language, underage, age difference (16/32)
Summary: AU. Eames is a burned out university professor who goes to the park for lunch to get away from the chaos of his life. There he meets 16-year-old Arthur and begins to befriend him for his ability to have an intelligent conversation with him. When he discovers the boy is homeless, he decides to take care of him, but things with Arthur get more complicated than he could ever expect.
Part Four
When Eames arrived at the school that morning, he was sure he looked at least a little bit out of sorts. He'd jerked off in the shower and hurried out the door with his hair still wet because he didn't (or rather couldn't) want to be around Arthur long enough to bring up the night before and say something he'd regret.
…as if he didn't have to face him when he got back home…
It wasn't like he'd forgotten that.
At least he had some time to think about it while he was at work, choose his words carefully, explain that he'd made a mistake and it would be another thing they would not be doing again.
Oddly enough though, Arthur seemed as uncomfortable by the kiss as Eames was when he thought back on it. Maybe Arthur's awkwardness that morning hadn't been imagined, and he was as eager to pretend it didn't happen as Eames was. Maybe.
Unfortunately, the weight of his thoughts didn't go without notice for, when he was hanging up casting results in the hallway, Ariadne caught him by the arm and said, "Professor Eames… Hey, uh… are you okay?"
Eames tried not to look taken aback by the sudden inquiry, put on his best smile and said, "Of course."
"You just seemed a little out of it in class today is all, and you look really tired. Not that it's any of my business, but… is something going on at home?"
Eames fought back the urge to immediately answer 'no' and thus look more suspicious. Instead he said, "Well, thank you for taking the time to notice and inquire, but I assure you that I'm fine. I live on my own, Ariadne, so there's certainly nothing going on there."
Well, she'd said so herself that it was none of her business.
"It's about the class then, isn't it," Ariadne said dismally.
Eames blinked, pursed his lips. "The class?"
"Yeah, about how awful they're being. I mean, yeah, the majority of them showed up today, but it pisses me off that none of them ever pay attention. I think your classes are fascinating, Mr. Eames." He was surprised by how bitter she sounded.
"I appreciate that," Eames said honestly. It had been so long since he'd heard that anywhere but his own head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over me, Ariadne. I just didn't sleep well last night. I had a bad bought of insomnia, you know, and ended up fighting with myself the entire night. I'm sure I'll sleep like a little baby tonight."
She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled subtly and said, "Take care of yourself, Mr. Eames."
Eames watched her walk away, running a hand through his hair, and he wondered if he was capable of such a feat.
He stayed inside his own head after that, barely managing a nod of acknowledgement when Robert Fischer approached him to thank him for giving him the lead role. His thoughts were filled with Arthur and that kiss, the way he'd been completely unable to stop it when he felt the spark in his system. It really had made him feel less… lonely…
He didn't even go out to the park for lunch that day because it was too cold, and frankly, he didn't really feel all that hungry. He was picking at his lunch, hunched in his office chair, when Yusuf came in with his own lunch. "Oh, you do care," Yusuf said, plopping down to dig out his Tupperware to toss into the microwave. "Here I thought we'd never have lunch together again."
"I just needed to get out of this place," Eames explained as he often did to Yusuf. "I needed some time to myself."
"I know, I know, but I certainly missed the company." The microwave beeped, and Yusuf dug out the bowl, popped the top, and started to eat.
They ate in a companionable silence for a little while, but Eames's thoughts were so heavily reliant on Arthur that he couldn't help but blurt out, "How old were you when you first had sex?"
Yusuf, God bless him, wasn't disturbed by the question in the slightest, merely furrowing his brows in concentration as he tried to remember. "Ah, yes, I was eighteen. My girlfriend at the time took my virginity for my birthday. It was brill."
"How old was she?"
"Eighteen. She was a couple of months older than me. Why?"
"I ah-I was thinking about doing a study on the sexualization of young people over time," Eames lied. "You know… something to occupy my time once Christmas Break begins."
"Oh," Yusuf said, shrugging. "I'm sure there have already been plenty of studies on that, Eames."
"It's just for fun," Eames assured him.
"Research over Christmas Break does not sound like my idea of fun," Yusuf said, shaking his head, "even if it does involve looking at oodles of internet porn. You need to get out and have some fun, Eames, and by fun I mean real fun. You and I are going drinking at Christmas parties, dancing with lovely ladies, spending too much money, and hopefully getting laid. You shouldn't deny yourself of the pleasures of the world, Eames. You used to be so bright and snarky and the life of the party. Now you just hole up in that place of yours and never see anyone."
It stung, even though Eames already knew all of that. He hadn't realized it had gotten quite that bad though… and he didn't realize it had gotten so obvious… then again, Arthur had noticed, and Arthur hadn't known him nearly as long as Yusuf had. Arthur had told him not to deny himself of things by not admitting to what he wanted… but he didn't know what he wanted…
At least, not necessarily…
"I'm just awful in the winter," Eames said as an excuse, and even he thought it was a weak one. "I'll be better in the summer."
"I sure hope so, Eames. You're fading away. I've been worried about you. I gave you some space because I thought you needed some time, but you haven't gotten any better. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you, mate."
"I appreciate it, Yusuf," Eames said. "You're a good friend."
"You're damned right I am," Yusuf agreed, grinning. "Seriously though, get some enjoyment in your life, Eames. You're wearing yourself thin."
"I'll keep that in mind," Eames replied and finally managed to really dig into his lunch.
"By the way, when did you lose your virginity, since we're sharing secrets like that?" Yusuf asked curiously, decidedly changing the subject, and Yusuf was the only one who could ask Eames such a question and it not be awkward in the least. Yusuf was always so innocently curious about the world, always had been, always would be.
Still, Eames had to think about it. "I was… huh… I was sixteen."
He was Arthur's age.
He'd completely forgotten about that.
"Yeah," Eames continued, holding back his surprise over this realization to the best of his ability, "my tutor, Reina Winkle and I just kind of ended up doing it once. She was a year ahead of me and pretty in that awkward way… I wonder whatever happened to her…"
"It must not have been very good if you didn't even remember it until now," Yusuf snorted.
"Two virgins clumsily pulling at each other's clothes? I would think not," Eames chuckled. Still, it had been a particularly unsatisfying experience, like much of the sex Eames had had. He'd started to assume that maybe he'd just gotten too excited about the prospect from his friends and then when it didn't live up to the hype he was eternally disappointed. His friends had told him that he would orgasm so hard that he would see God. He had barely managed to get to the orgasm at all, and it was far from any sort of divine experience. To this day he had yet to experience it the way he'd been told he would.
It had been his friend Jules who had said that, smiling his slightly gapped teeth at him, crinkling his blue-green eyes, now that he thought about it. God, he had been something else. Eames had idolized that boy… He'd been so beautiful and perfect, a fucking powerhouse on the football field (not what the Americans called football of course but real football). Eames had followed him around constantly, and Jules, God bless him, didn't ever mind… Still, Eames had gone through every effort to impress him. The whole reason he'd slept with Reina was because he wanted the congratulations and the smack on the back that Jules had given his other friends for losing their virginity. When Jules had gotten a scholarship and left, Eames had cried hard, full of regret for all that never had been.
…What had that regret been, anyway?
It wasn't like he didn't completely know.
"You all right there, Eames?" Yusuf asked.
"What? Oh… yes. Fine. Just tired."
Jules had always been straight.
Eames arrived home late, carrying a couple of bags of clothing for Arthur (they were cheap but somewhat stylish and not nearly as dirty and holey as his other clothes), and a pack of cigarettes.
"Arthur?" he called out when he didn't see him around. He dropped the things on the couch and checked the bathroom and then the kitchen. He wasn't in either of them, nor was he out on the balcony. Of course, that only left one place for him to check.
He found Arthur curled up in the middle of his bed, in another of his shirts, this time crisp and angelic white.
Eames knelt over him and touched his shoulder. "Arthur," he said quietly, and the boy stirred, rolling onto his back to look up at him with bedroom eyes. Eames did his best to ignore it. "What are you doing in here, pet?"
Arthur blushed in embarrassment, and it was the most youthful expression Eames had seen on him besides that smile of his. "Um… well…"
"Forget it," Eames said, backing away from him when he realized how close he was to his face. "What do you want for supper, hm?"
"I don't know… whatever…" Arthur said, crawling off of the bed. Eames shouldn't have noticed that he wasn't wearing socks, padding around barefooted in his home like he was fucking Peter Pan. "Something good."
"That narrows it down," Eames said with a smirk. "How about spaghetti and meatballs? I have a special recipe my friend from school once taught me. It's quite good."
Arthur smiled, and if Eames had been a weaker man, he would have melted.
…Maybe he did melt… just a little bit.
He had kissed that mouth after all. Arthur and he had kissed in the very same kitchen they were standing in now, Arthur clumsily pressing his mouth into Eames to kiss him back as if he'd never done it before, not once. The boy who had given him a blow job like he'd been doing it for years had kissed Eames as if he'd never done it before.
Eames stirred the sauce in the pan, glancing over his shoulder as Arthur dragged in the bags of clothes to look at them, smiling in satisfaction over each article and folding them gingerly. "You didn't have to get me so much," Arthur said. "I really only needed two shirts, two pairs of pants, and two pairs of underwear."
"Well, I got you three pairs of jeans, a pair of nice trousers, four long-sleeved shirts, three short-sleeved ones, and a cardigan, and you'll wear all of them. I'm assuming you prefer boxers over briefs since you won't stop wearing mine, so I bought you a pack of those too."
"Why'd you get all of this?"
"You need something to wear if you intend to do anything besides lay around this flat all day. It wasn't expensive so don't worry about it. You like them, don't you?"
"Normally I have to lift something from the goodwill to get something this nice," Arthur said, and he genuinely meant that as a compliment. It made Eames's heart ache. "Thanks."
"…You're welcome…"
By the time Eames had finished cooking, Arthur had disappeared into the house with his new clothes and reappeared without them and smoked through three cigarettes. They sat down to eat together, and Eames even had a couple of glasses of wine. He gave Arthur cola.
"Why can't I drink wine?" Arthur complained. "Are you so selfish that you're not going to share?"
"You're not old enough to drink wine," Eames replied simply.
"Ugh… Don't they let people drink as long as they can fucking reach the bar in your homeland? Jeez, who are you trying to remind of my age, me or you?"
Eames ignored the second question and instead answered the clearly rhetorical first. "We're not in my homeland, darling. I understand that as a teenager you feel the need to rage against that machine, but-"
"Um… if I may interrupt… You do realize that we're in an enclosed space, right? One that is neither currently occupied nor surrounded by police officers? You own this place. You can do whatever the hell you want here."
"That doesn't mean that you can do whatever you want," Eames said and took another bite of spaghetti.
"Whatever," Arthur mumbled, pouting just a little before shoveling another mouthful of food into his mouth.
"Oh, don't give me that attitude," Eames said, laughing. "You're not going to trick me into giving you wine. Why don't you try acting like-"
"Like what?" Arthur asked, and suddenly he seemed angry. "Like a normal teenager?"
Eames opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur stood, and he was most definitely angry. "Maybe I'm not normal!" he shouted and knocked his plate onto the floor. The porcelain crashed loudly against the linoleum tile. "Maybe it's not as fucking simple as you telling me what to do! I do things because I want to! I never let myself be forced to do shit!"
By the end of it, Eames was wondering if Arthur was trying to convince Eames or…
Arthur stomped off and closed himself in the bathroom with a slam of the door.
Eames swept up the porcelain and wiped up the mess on the floor before going to the bathroom door and knocking. He half-expected the boy to shout at him to go away, but that didn't happen.
The door cracked open after a few minutes, and Arthur stood there, looking ashamed of himself… and terribly, terribly sad.
Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide and dark as midnight, spilling a million unsaid apologies for the broken plate, for the spoiled meal. His lip quivered just slightly, as if he was fearful, and Eames just slid his arms around him and pulled him to his chest, rocking side to side in the doorway. Arthur sniffed into his shirt, but Eames wasn't sure if he was crying or not. Eames ran his fingers through the back of Arthur's hair before resting them at the nape of his neck.
Arthur's hands slipped up Eames's back, pausing only once they reached his shoulder blades, and that was when he looked up at Eames again, lips parted slightly, a hair's breadth away.
Eames remembered Jules's gap-toothed smile that he'd dreamed about for most of his teenage life. He remembered the way Yusuf had said that he'd been wearing himself thin, disappearing. He remembered how Ariadne had worried about him. He remembered how Arthur had told him to stop denying himself, how Yusuf had said the same damned thing.
…and he was in an enclosed space neither occupied nor surrounded by police officers. He owned the place. He could do whatever he wanted.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur's, and Arthur opened up for him without hesitation, arms coming to circle around his neck. Arthur had to stand on his tip-toes as he whimpered and let his tongue slip between Eames's teeth. Eames licked against the roof of Arthur's mouth, leaning further over to make it easier on the boy.
When Eames finally broke the kiss, both of them were nearly breathless… but instead of apologizing and retreating, Eames kissed him again, and again Arthur let him, stumbling backwards until his back met the wall, and then Eames was gasping as Arthur kissed his chin and then down his jugular… soft, tiny kisses that were so innocent that Eames remembered what they were doing.
Eames stepped away just a little from the boy so that he would stop, and Arthur looked up at him again, hands pressed firmly against his chest. "Hi," he said, smiling lazily.
"Hi," Eames replied, voice low and gravelly, and whatever he'd been planning to say had been forgotten as he dove back in for another kiss. It was sloppy, filthy, and definitely never the way he'd kissed anyone before.
Arthur jumped, hooking his arms more tightly around his neck and then wrapping his legs around his waist, and Eames could feel the hard line of his erection pressing against his abdomen. He blindly staggered across the room until he reached his bedroom and then collapsed into the bed with him, hand running up underneath his shirt to feel the burning hot skin underneath.
He broke contact and sat back, straddling the boy's waist to look down at him. His mouth was swollen and bitten red, and the shirt he was wearing was so snow white… except for a speckle of red spaghetti sauce, a shocking brightness on the fabric, a blemish on the perfect pallor.
"We… We shouldn't do this," Eames said then, even as his own cock was absolutely aching in his trousers.
"I don't mind it, it's cool, just-" Arthur tried to say, but Eames was shaking his head.
"I… I can't. I can't just-It's wrong. Everything I've ever known has told me so. Everything my parents and my teachers ever taught me…"
"Is it because I'm sixteen? Or is it because I'm a man?" Arthur asked.
Eames opened his mouth to answer but realized that he couldn't.
"I was in love with a boy once," Eames said instead, and it even hurt his heart to say. "I never told him. I thought something was wrong with me… I know that psychologically, it's-not necessarily-not-that is-but…"
He looked down at Arthur. "I'm not… I'm not doing this just because you're beautiful."
"You just don't want to be lonely anymore," Arthur replied as if he'd been inside Eames's skull all along... as if Eames was so transparent that he could see right through him.
Eames swallowed thickly and nodded. "Y-yeah…"
Arthur spread his arms out around him. "Kiss me."
"No… I can't."
"Yes, you can. I don't mind… I'll take your loneliness away. I know how to-"
Eames ran a finger down Arthur's cheekbone, and he shivered from just that touch alone. "Arthur… may I ask you a personal question?"
"Depends," he replied, eyelashes fluttering. He already looked so wrecked, so gorgeously wrecked.
"Did you sell yourself for money?"
Arthur turned his face into Eames's touch. "I gave blow jobs but that's it. You'd be surprised what people would be willing to pay for a little bit of touch…" Arthur reached up and dragged his hand down Eames's chest, stopping right at his belt. "I like it when you touch me, Eames," he said. "Do it."
"I don't want you to… to go out and do that with other men anymore, Arthur. You have the things you need here, all right?"
Arthur snorted in frustration and then lifted his hips against Eames, rubbing against his cock and making him yelp. "Whatever, just… you need to do something about that. It's distracting my hormone-addled teenage mind."
"I won't… I won't have sex with you," Eames told him, but he was wondering if he was trying to convince Arthur or himself. By the way his mind had supplied 'no matter how much I want to' to the end of the sentence, he was inclined to believe it was the latter.
"Fine," Arthur said, shoving Eames off of him so that they were lying next to one another on the bed. "Let's just jack off together then. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
Actually there was plenty wrong with that, but Eames was so overcome with the heat of his arousal that he couldn't clearly think of what exactly it was.
…and besides, Arthur was already tugging down his own boxer shorts, letting his swollen red prick spring forth. "You can touch me if you want," Arthur said, smirking, and oh, Eames wanted to.
"Bloody tease," Eames growled, fumbling with his belt. As soon as he finally had the belt free, Arthur grabbed the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoned and unzipped them. He tugged them down, underwear and all and wrapped his hand around his cock, making Eames choke on a sound. "What are you doing-"
"You jack me, and I'll jack you," Arthur said heatedly. "It's more fun that way."
"This isn't fucking Candy Land," Eames tried to joke, but it was lost in the pant of his voice.
"Want to bet?" Arthur asked and ducked down to lave at the head with the tip of his tongue, licking off beads of pre-come.
Eames shouted, hips bucking against his will. "Bloody hell," he gasped.
"I knew you liked it," Arthur said devilishly. "You sure you don't want to do it? Mr. Eames?" The way he said his name was absolutely obscene.
Eames shoved him down and kissed him so quickly that he felt their teeth click. Arthur writhed underneath him, pressing up against his thigh and rolling his hips to get some sort of friction and Eames was suddenly rocking down on Arthur's thin thigh as well. He paused in his movement as soon as he was aware of it and wrapped his hand around Arthur's cock, jerking him feverishly, and Arthur yelped, eyes rolling back in his head. "Yes, please-ah-just like that-ah-"
Arthur's hands gripped Eames's ass, and he moaned, and that made Eames's cock spill pre-come against his stomach.
"Hey," Arthur said roughly, "I'm supposed to be the one with a hair trigger here. Aren't I so young and impressionable?"
"Don't mock me, you little shite," Eames groaned, tracing a finger along Arthur's bottom lip until the boy decided to take it into his mouth and sucked.
Arthur removed one hand from Eames's ass and started jerking Eames off in the same rhythm that Eames was doing him. The little fucker really was a demon, if that cocky little smirk on his face was any indication, and frankly Eames shouldn't have found it nearly as attractive as he did (admittedly, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that his hands were around his prick).
"Ah-" Arthur squeaked, and that was all he did before all of his muscles clenched and he was spilling messily all over himself.
Eames groaned. Seeing Arthur's ruddy, slack-jawed face was all he needed to make him topple over the edge. White spots filled his vision, and for a moment he forgot that he was even on the earth. He'd never felt anything quite so glorious in his whole fucking life, and he couldn't help but think that this had been what Jules had been talking about when he said he would see God.
When it was over and the fuzziness slowly leaked out of his eyes and ears, he found himself lying on the mattress again, Arthur leaning over him with that boyish little grin on his face.
"We shouldn't have done that," Eames said, but he couldn't stop the stupid grin plastered across his face. "We never should have even come close to doing that…"
"There's a lot of things in the world we shouldn't do," Arthur whispered before he knelt down and kissed him again.
He kissed Eames softly until Eames fell into the deepest sleep he'd ever experienced.