Like Picking Up Trash in Dresses
Title: Like Picking Up Trash in Dresses
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Saito
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Inception belongs to Nolan and Warner Brothers.
Author's Notes: For this prompt over at inception_kink: Saito wines and dines Arthur, gets him all buzzed and hot, then takes him home and ties him up and fucks him hard.. The bit about the soul is shamelessly stolen from a William Gibson novel. Thanks to fangie_yin for encouraging me and metafic for letting me pester her into betaing it quickly.
---
After the inception job, Arthur wants to leave, to do something different. Cobb tries to talk him out of it. Explains that he needs him, that there's no better point man out there. Arthur shrugs, letting the compliments slide off of him as easily as if they were insults. He doesn't tell Cobb that he feels guilty, that he blames himself for Saito's trip to limbo. For almost destroying the job before it even started because of faulty research. He doesn't tell Cobb he's tired of dreams, of hiding from reality. He tells Cobb he needs a break, which isn't really a lie. Cobb just doesn't need to know that it's a permanent break.
He leaves all his equipment in a storage unit, mailing keys to Cobb and Ariadne, not taking one himself. He flies to New York, wandering around the city in jeans and a t-shirt, but he finds he misses the suits. He misses the way he felt put together. He has more money than he'd ever know what to do with, so he finds the most expensive tailor and orders a few suits. When they're finished, he boards a plane to Tokyo, without really thinking about it. Without knowing why.
When he lands, he buys a dictionary and a guidebook, but it turns out he doesn't need them. There's a man holding a sign with his name on it. He pulls out his phone, glancing at it. No messages, no missed calls. He quickly scans his email, nothing. He decides, what the hell, he has nothing left to lose. He grabs his suitcase and gets in the car. It's early evening, but Tokyo's lit up and it makes him think of home. New York City, an apartment he never uses, not since he started working with Cobb and Mal, so many years ago.
He's half asleep from jetlag by the time they reach whatever destination the driver's been given. Arthur's jolted awake when the car stops. He rubs his eyes and he looks out the window. The house is huge, unlike anything he's ever seen, except in dreams. He scrubs his face with his hands, then fingers around the die in his pocket. He remembers how he got here, if not why he's here. The door opens and he steps out, reaching for his briefcase. His suitcase is standing on the curb. He walks over, ready to take it, but there's a young man taking it for him.
"Mr. Saito will see you in the morning," the young man says in carefully cultivated English.
Arthur cannot explain the warmth that spreads through him. Of course it was Saito, why hadn't he thought of that? He follows the man into the house, up a flight of stairs into a huge bedroom. Obviously not the master bedroom, if he's staying in it, but big all the same. He barely makes it out of his suit, leaving on his boxers, before collapsing on the bed. He remembers, just before he falls asleep, something he read once. He thinks about the theory that his soul is trailing behind. He imagines that it's somewhere over the Pacific. He can only hope that it'll be with him when he wakes up.
He wakes up when there's a knock on his door. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, trying to remember where he is. For a moment, before his eyes adjust to the dim light, he thinks maybe he's in a hotel. But then he looks around and he remembers; the non-stop flight, the man with his name on a card, Tokyo. Come in, he says and in walks the same young man from the previous day. What time is it, he asks, only to glance at his phone. Early evening. Before Arthur has a chance to apologize, the man is speaking, telling him that Mr. Saito invites him to dinner, in one hour, then he vanishes again.
Not quite fully awake, he begins to explore the room. There are five doors. Two of them lead to closets, one leads to a bathroom, another is locked and the fifth is the one through which he entered the previous evening. He strips completely and walks into the bathroom. Everything is high tech, contrasting the style of the house, and it's almost daunting, but Arthur likes challenges. He finds the bathroom is easier to use than it looks. On a small table next to the toilet are towels and stuff for the shower. Again, he feels like he's in a hotel. He shakes the feeling off, turning the shower on and steps in. He closes his eyes, tipping his head up toward the hot spray.
After his shower, he dresses. His suits have been pressed, they don't look like they've traveled at all. He can't help being impressed, and thinking that he could get used to this life. He'd always wondered what it felt like to be taken care of. As he pulls on the last of his suit, he thinks he could probably afford a butler or something, but until now, it's not something he'd even seriously considered. He fixes his hair and only then does he remember to grab his wallet and phone. There are at least ten missed calls and maybe three times as many texts. He doesn't check his email, just sets his phone back on the nightstand. He'll deal with it later.
He walks downstairs slowly, looking around the house. He doesn't remember any of this from his jetlag induced stupor. He stops in front of a mural, pressing his hand against his chest. He thinks his soul's finally caught up with him. He's startled from his thoughts by a voice.
"Arthur." It's Saito and Arthur turns slowly. The only member of their team he hadn't seen since the job. Since they said goodbye at the airport. It's been a year. He'd worked one job, with Cobb and Eames, before realizing dreaming wasn't something he wanted, not anymore.
"Mr. Saito," he replies, with a hint of a smile in his voice.
Saito smiles in return, it's warm and Arthur finds he wants to climb right in. He doesn't understand, but he's willing to go with it, at least for now. No one's been happy to see him without wanting something from him. Maybe Saito does, but for all he knows, it might have nothing to do with dreams. That thought warms him as he walks down the stairs.
"It has been a long time," Saito says, leading Arthur outside. After a confused moment, he follows. "I have taken the liberty of reserving a table at my favorite restaurant."
Arthur glances at him, at his elegant suit, feeling silently grateful he'd been to the tailor before leaving New York. He doesn't know quite what to say, just follows Saito to the waiting car. They don't talk on the way to the restaurant, but Arthur senses that there's something Saito wants to say. He doesn't press, because for all his optimism, he'd hate to have to tell Saito no.
The restaurant is extraordinary. He's never been in anything like it, not even in his dreams. He wonders if Saito's time in limbo was designed with such elegance. He doesn't ask, he doesn't want to talk about dreams or limbo. Instead, he lets Saito do the talking. About his business, but not about Fischer, about the economy, about the environment. Arthur smiles and nods in all the right places, but he's not really listening. A glance at Saito's face reveals that he knows and doesn't mind.
They have a different bottle of wine with each course and it's all Arthur can do to keep up. He's starting to feel lightheaded, maybe a little giddy, but it's the best he's felt in a year. He doesn't complain. Nor does he stop Saito from filling his wine glass again. He's going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow, but as long as he can walk to the car, he thinks he'll be okay. He's been drunker, after Mal's death. A job gone wrong with Eames. That time in Prague when he thought that Eames' mouth looked good enough to eat. Turns out he was wrong, at least about himself. He feels himself flush a little and glances up. Saito's watching him, a faint smile on his lips.
"You are not working now," Saito says, the first real question he's asked.
Arthur shrugs, but finds himself answering. "Haven't found what I'm looking for," he replies, wondering why he never thought of that before.
Saito doesn't answer, just smiles over the rim of his glass. He can tell, just a little, that Saito's had slightly too much to drink as well. He notices, through the slight haze of drunkenness, that Saito's not drinking as much now. Arthur thinks he ought to stop too, but he cannot be bothered. Not until Saito holds up a hand to the waiter.
"I believe we are finished here." The waiter nods, then disappears. Saito stands and Arthur follows. He wobbles a little and is surprised when it's Saito who helps him out to the car.
"Sorry," he mumbles softly as they get it. Saito's hand is warm on his arm.
When they're both in, Arthur glances out the window, watching Tokyo stream past him, all bright and beautiful. He thinks he was wrong, it's nothing like New York. And for some reason, he finds that comforting.
He feels Saito's hand on his arm again. He turns, glancing at him. "How did you know I was flying here?"
He's not sure what kind of answer he was expecting, but the soft smile that spreads across Saito's face isn't even close. He waits for the inevitable answer, Cobb told him. Ariadne was worried. Except the answer is none of those, either.
"I keep track of my investments," he says with a wry smile. Arthur finds that funny for some reason. He laughs and Saito joins him.
Soon they return to Saito's house. It's brightly lit up outside, but dark inside. He turns to Saito, wanting to ask about his family, why the house is so empty. It is as if Saito read his mind.
"Inception," he begins, "changes us all. My family, they wish to be elsewhere."
Arthur feels a sudden sadness, a loss. He'd always thought that he was the only one who changed, but looking at Saito, he knows that's not the case. He wants to tell Saito he's sorry, that he wishes he could undo everything, but he doesn't. He just follows Saito into the house.
"Upstairs. The room at the end of the hall." There's an edge to Saito's voice that turns Arthur on. He finds he doesn't want to do anything but obey. As he walks upstairs, he can hear Saito talking with his servants, whoever they are, in low voices.
He reaches the door at the end of the hall. He opens it and realizes that this is the master bedroom. It is so beautiful that it takes his breath away. There's nothing to signify that it's Saito's room and Arthur imagines that's on purpose. He thinks about his room in New York, across the globe from here, his apartments in a million different countries that he'll never use, not now. Maybe he has more in common with Saito than he ever imagined. He reaches up, loosening his tie when he notices another door. He walks over and finds it locked. There's a key dangling from a hook. He slips the key in, turning it in the lock and the door opens. It's his room. He's still standing in the doorway when Saito enters the room.
Arthur turns, a little nervous and a little excited. Saito holds out his hand and for reasons he'll only figure out later, Arthur takes it. Saito's hand is cool, soft against his own. He tugs, almost gently and Arthur goes easily. He tips his head up and Saito's mouth is anything but gentle on his. He kisses him back, hungry and needy. He can barely remember the last time he got laid, some girl in the back of a nightclub Arthur didn't even want to be at. This isn't the same, it's a hundred times better. He curls his fingers in Saito's shirt, kissing him harder.
They shift around, until Arthur's back is toward the bed. Saito walks him backward, pushing Arthur onto his back. He leans in, kissing him again. Arthur shudders, his back arching a little. He feels Saito's hands, pushing the jacket off, sliding the vest off next, then unbutton his shirt. His mouth against Arthur's chest, undressing him until he's only wearing the tie, dangling useless around his neck. Saito doesn't hesitate, just pulls at the tie. Arthur thinks he knows where this is going and he can't fucking wait.
Still dressed, Saito crawls up him. He hangs the tie around his neck and slides his hands up Arthur's arms, to his wrists. Arthur writhes a little under him, lifting his hips and Saito briefly obliges, bringing their bodies together roughly. Arthur moans, shuddering a little and he almost doesn't notice that Saito's tying his wrists together. But he does notice and he tips his head back, looking up at his his hands, his wrists. For a brief moment, Saito ducks his head, sucking along Arthur's neck, the pulls back to finish tying. Arthur looks back at Saito, who's watching him intently now. He thinks this could go so wrong, that this might be more fucked up than anything in the world and he thinks he just doesn't give a shit.
It's almost if Saito can tell, because he pulls the tie tight and then presses his mouth against Arthur's, kissing him harder. Arthur could move his arms, if he wanted, but he doesn't want to. He likes this, likes it maybe too much. He whines when Saito pulls back, until he realizes Saito's undressing. He does it carefully, with such ceremony that Arthur's almost jealous. He bites his bottom lip hard as Saito folds his clothes, setting them on what looks like a couch in the corner. Naked, Saito walks back to the bed. He kneels on it, taking Arthur in, then he crawls over him, between his legs and presses him hard against the bed.
Their cocks slide against each other and Arthur arches, pressing their bodies together. But it's clear that Saito wants more. He reaches over Arthur, but just out of reach. He twists his head, watching Saito's hand find exactly what it's looking for, lube and a condom. Arthur's breath catches and he cannot help but think of all the mistakes he's made in his life and how he doesn't deserve such a reward. But then Saito's fingers are inside him, two at once and Arthur can barely breathe. He arches his back, pressing against the fingers, wanting more. So much more.
Saito slides the condom on easily and there's another twinge of jealousy that he is clearly not, and was never going to be, the first. But then Saito's pressing into him, hard and rough and Arthur doesn't care anymore. The handful of times Arthur's been fucked have been short and anything but sweet. Not that Saito's sweet, but Arthur can feel the potential. Saito thrusts harder, pushing into him until the thrusting becomes pounding, hard and rough and Arthur knows he'll be sore tomorrow. He spreads his legs wider, ass lifting a bit and Saito's thrusts go from methodical to erratic and that's when he sinks closer, mouth against Arthur's.
He moans into the kiss, against Saito's mouth and it's all he can do to hold himself together. Saito's hand snakes up, pressing Arthur's hands to the bed and he strains against it. He doesn't know why, but it's even hotter this way. All out of control and he's so close he's shaking. He feels Saito's pace speed up, fucking him harder and harder. He barely registers Saito's hand moving, between them, but then Saito's hand is around his cock. He gasps out, he mumbles something, in French of all things. He doesn't think about anything except Saito. Above him, inside him, all around him. He shudders, pressing against Saito's hand and he's so close he's going to explode at any second.
Saito's mouth against his ear, tongue flicking lightly. "Wait," he whispers and Arthur has no choice but to obey. Saito thrusts harder and Arthur understands, just barely. He squeezes around him, straining against the hold and he feels, and watches, Saito come. It's not a thing of beauty, but he feels like he's going to float away with joy. It's everything he hoped and then Saito's whispering his name and that's all it takes. He comes crashing over them both. His hips ache, his ass hurts, his arms are sore and he doesn't care.
For a moment they're suspended, Saito still buried inside of him, Arthur's arms still above his head. But then, in what feels like a fluid moment, Saito pulls out and frees his hands. Arthur pulls them slowly down, massaging his wrists. Saito disappears briefly and just as Arthur's working up the energy to get up and go back to his room, he returns. He's holding a cloth. He cleans himself off and then holds it out to Arthur. He takes it and finds it's warm and soft, he cleans the come off his stomach, his thighs and then looks up at Saito.
The cloth slides to the floor as Saito climbs onto the bed. "Do you wish to stay?" Saito asks as he stretches out languidly on the bed, next to Arthur.
The words float around Arthur's head, like a bee buzzing around a flower. "The night?" He asks, voice hoarse and rough.
Saito's fingers play along his spine and he turns slightly, looking at Saito. "As long as you need."
Arthur's breath catches slightly. "And this?" He gestures between them.
"And this," is Saito's reply. He takes Arthur's wrist in his hand. He tugs, just slightly, pressing his mouth against the red lines from the necktie.
It's in that moment that Arthur makes his decision. He lets Saito pull him into his arms. Saito kisses him and it's gentle this time, with a hint of the sex they just had. It makes Arthur shiver.
"I hope I can give you what you are looking for." Saito's lips brush against Arthur's mouth as he speaks. Arthur cannot help but hope the same.
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Saito
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Inception belongs to Nolan and Warner Brothers.
Author's Notes: For this prompt over at inception_kink: Saito wines and dines Arthur, gets him all buzzed and hot, then takes him home and ties him up and fucks him hard.. The bit about the soul is shamelessly stolen from a William Gibson novel. Thanks to fangie_yin for encouraging me and metafic for letting me pester her into betaing it quickly.
---
After the inception job, Arthur wants to leave, to do something different. Cobb tries to talk him out of it. Explains that he needs him, that there's no better point man out there. Arthur shrugs, letting the compliments slide off of him as easily as if they were insults. He doesn't tell Cobb that he feels guilty, that he blames himself for Saito's trip to limbo. For almost destroying the job before it even started because of faulty research. He doesn't tell Cobb he's tired of dreams, of hiding from reality. He tells Cobb he needs a break, which isn't really a lie. Cobb just doesn't need to know that it's a permanent break.
He leaves all his equipment in a storage unit, mailing keys to Cobb and Ariadne, not taking one himself. He flies to New York, wandering around the city in jeans and a t-shirt, but he finds he misses the suits. He misses the way he felt put together. He has more money than he'd ever know what to do with, so he finds the most expensive tailor and orders a few suits. When they're finished, he boards a plane to Tokyo, without really thinking about it. Without knowing why.
When he lands, he buys a dictionary and a guidebook, but it turns out he doesn't need them. There's a man holding a sign with his name on it. He pulls out his phone, glancing at it. No messages, no missed calls. He quickly scans his email, nothing. He decides, what the hell, he has nothing left to lose. He grabs his suitcase and gets in the car. It's early evening, but Tokyo's lit up and it makes him think of home. New York City, an apartment he never uses, not since he started working with Cobb and Mal, so many years ago.
He's half asleep from jetlag by the time they reach whatever destination the driver's been given. Arthur's jolted awake when the car stops. He rubs his eyes and he looks out the window. The house is huge, unlike anything he's ever seen, except in dreams. He scrubs his face with his hands, then fingers around the die in his pocket. He remembers how he got here, if not why he's here. The door opens and he steps out, reaching for his briefcase. His suitcase is standing on the curb. He walks over, ready to take it, but there's a young man taking it for him.
"Mr. Saito will see you in the morning," the young man says in carefully cultivated English.
Arthur cannot explain the warmth that spreads through him. Of course it was Saito, why hadn't he thought of that? He follows the man into the house, up a flight of stairs into a huge bedroom. Obviously not the master bedroom, if he's staying in it, but big all the same. He barely makes it out of his suit, leaving on his boxers, before collapsing on the bed. He remembers, just before he falls asleep, something he read once. He thinks about the theory that his soul is trailing behind. He imagines that it's somewhere over the Pacific. He can only hope that it'll be with him when he wakes up.
He wakes up when there's a knock on his door. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, trying to remember where he is. For a moment, before his eyes adjust to the dim light, he thinks maybe he's in a hotel. But then he looks around and he remembers; the non-stop flight, the man with his name on a card, Tokyo. Come in, he says and in walks the same young man from the previous day. What time is it, he asks, only to glance at his phone. Early evening. Before Arthur has a chance to apologize, the man is speaking, telling him that Mr. Saito invites him to dinner, in one hour, then he vanishes again.
Not quite fully awake, he begins to explore the room. There are five doors. Two of them lead to closets, one leads to a bathroom, another is locked and the fifth is the one through which he entered the previous evening. He strips completely and walks into the bathroom. Everything is high tech, contrasting the style of the house, and it's almost daunting, but Arthur likes challenges. He finds the bathroom is easier to use than it looks. On a small table next to the toilet are towels and stuff for the shower. Again, he feels like he's in a hotel. He shakes the feeling off, turning the shower on and steps in. He closes his eyes, tipping his head up toward the hot spray.
After his shower, he dresses. His suits have been pressed, they don't look like they've traveled at all. He can't help being impressed, and thinking that he could get used to this life. He'd always wondered what it felt like to be taken care of. As he pulls on the last of his suit, he thinks he could probably afford a butler or something, but until now, it's not something he'd even seriously considered. He fixes his hair and only then does he remember to grab his wallet and phone. There are at least ten missed calls and maybe three times as many texts. He doesn't check his email, just sets his phone back on the nightstand. He'll deal with it later.
He walks downstairs slowly, looking around the house. He doesn't remember any of this from his jetlag induced stupor. He stops in front of a mural, pressing his hand against his chest. He thinks his soul's finally caught up with him. He's startled from his thoughts by a voice.
"Arthur." It's Saito and Arthur turns slowly. The only member of their team he hadn't seen since the job. Since they said goodbye at the airport. It's been a year. He'd worked one job, with Cobb and Eames, before realizing dreaming wasn't something he wanted, not anymore.
"Mr. Saito," he replies, with a hint of a smile in his voice.
Saito smiles in return, it's warm and Arthur finds he wants to climb right in. He doesn't understand, but he's willing to go with it, at least for now. No one's been happy to see him without wanting something from him. Maybe Saito does, but for all he knows, it might have nothing to do with dreams. That thought warms him as he walks down the stairs.
"It has been a long time," Saito says, leading Arthur outside. After a confused moment, he follows. "I have taken the liberty of reserving a table at my favorite restaurant."
Arthur glances at him, at his elegant suit, feeling silently grateful he'd been to the tailor before leaving New York. He doesn't know quite what to say, just follows Saito to the waiting car. They don't talk on the way to the restaurant, but Arthur senses that there's something Saito wants to say. He doesn't press, because for all his optimism, he'd hate to have to tell Saito no.
The restaurant is extraordinary. He's never been in anything like it, not even in his dreams. He wonders if Saito's time in limbo was designed with such elegance. He doesn't ask, he doesn't want to talk about dreams or limbo. Instead, he lets Saito do the talking. About his business, but not about Fischer, about the economy, about the environment. Arthur smiles and nods in all the right places, but he's not really listening. A glance at Saito's face reveals that he knows and doesn't mind.
They have a different bottle of wine with each course and it's all Arthur can do to keep up. He's starting to feel lightheaded, maybe a little giddy, but it's the best he's felt in a year. He doesn't complain. Nor does he stop Saito from filling his wine glass again. He's going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow, but as long as he can walk to the car, he thinks he'll be okay. He's been drunker, after Mal's death. A job gone wrong with Eames. That time in Prague when he thought that Eames' mouth looked good enough to eat. Turns out he was wrong, at least about himself. He feels himself flush a little and glances up. Saito's watching him, a faint smile on his lips.
"You are not working now," Saito says, the first real question he's asked.
Arthur shrugs, but finds himself answering. "Haven't found what I'm looking for," he replies, wondering why he never thought of that before.
Saito doesn't answer, just smiles over the rim of his glass. He can tell, just a little, that Saito's had slightly too much to drink as well. He notices, through the slight haze of drunkenness, that Saito's not drinking as much now. Arthur thinks he ought to stop too, but he cannot be bothered. Not until Saito holds up a hand to the waiter.
"I believe we are finished here." The waiter nods, then disappears. Saito stands and Arthur follows. He wobbles a little and is surprised when it's Saito who helps him out to the car.
"Sorry," he mumbles softly as they get it. Saito's hand is warm on his arm.
When they're both in, Arthur glances out the window, watching Tokyo stream past him, all bright and beautiful. He thinks he was wrong, it's nothing like New York. And for some reason, he finds that comforting.
He feels Saito's hand on his arm again. He turns, glancing at him. "How did you know I was flying here?"
He's not sure what kind of answer he was expecting, but the soft smile that spreads across Saito's face isn't even close. He waits for the inevitable answer, Cobb told him. Ariadne was worried. Except the answer is none of those, either.
"I keep track of my investments," he says with a wry smile. Arthur finds that funny for some reason. He laughs and Saito joins him.
Soon they return to Saito's house. It's brightly lit up outside, but dark inside. He turns to Saito, wanting to ask about his family, why the house is so empty. It is as if Saito read his mind.
"Inception," he begins, "changes us all. My family, they wish to be elsewhere."
Arthur feels a sudden sadness, a loss. He'd always thought that he was the only one who changed, but looking at Saito, he knows that's not the case. He wants to tell Saito he's sorry, that he wishes he could undo everything, but he doesn't. He just follows Saito into the house.
"Upstairs. The room at the end of the hall." There's an edge to Saito's voice that turns Arthur on. He finds he doesn't want to do anything but obey. As he walks upstairs, he can hear Saito talking with his servants, whoever they are, in low voices.
He reaches the door at the end of the hall. He opens it and realizes that this is the master bedroom. It is so beautiful that it takes his breath away. There's nothing to signify that it's Saito's room and Arthur imagines that's on purpose. He thinks about his room in New York, across the globe from here, his apartments in a million different countries that he'll never use, not now. Maybe he has more in common with Saito than he ever imagined. He reaches up, loosening his tie when he notices another door. He walks over and finds it locked. There's a key dangling from a hook. He slips the key in, turning it in the lock and the door opens. It's his room. He's still standing in the doorway when Saito enters the room.
Arthur turns, a little nervous and a little excited. Saito holds out his hand and for reasons he'll only figure out later, Arthur takes it. Saito's hand is cool, soft against his own. He tugs, almost gently and Arthur goes easily. He tips his head up and Saito's mouth is anything but gentle on his. He kisses him back, hungry and needy. He can barely remember the last time he got laid, some girl in the back of a nightclub Arthur didn't even want to be at. This isn't the same, it's a hundred times better. He curls his fingers in Saito's shirt, kissing him harder.
They shift around, until Arthur's back is toward the bed. Saito walks him backward, pushing Arthur onto his back. He leans in, kissing him again. Arthur shudders, his back arching a little. He feels Saito's hands, pushing the jacket off, sliding the vest off next, then unbutton his shirt. His mouth against Arthur's chest, undressing him until he's only wearing the tie, dangling useless around his neck. Saito doesn't hesitate, just pulls at the tie. Arthur thinks he knows where this is going and he can't fucking wait.
Still dressed, Saito crawls up him. He hangs the tie around his neck and slides his hands up Arthur's arms, to his wrists. Arthur writhes a little under him, lifting his hips and Saito briefly obliges, bringing their bodies together roughly. Arthur moans, shuddering a little and he almost doesn't notice that Saito's tying his wrists together. But he does notice and he tips his head back, looking up at his his hands, his wrists. For a brief moment, Saito ducks his head, sucking along Arthur's neck, the pulls back to finish tying. Arthur looks back at Saito, who's watching him intently now. He thinks this could go so wrong, that this might be more fucked up than anything in the world and he thinks he just doesn't give a shit.
It's almost if Saito can tell, because he pulls the tie tight and then presses his mouth against Arthur's, kissing him harder. Arthur could move his arms, if he wanted, but he doesn't want to. He likes this, likes it maybe too much. He whines when Saito pulls back, until he realizes Saito's undressing. He does it carefully, with such ceremony that Arthur's almost jealous. He bites his bottom lip hard as Saito folds his clothes, setting them on what looks like a couch in the corner. Naked, Saito walks back to the bed. He kneels on it, taking Arthur in, then he crawls over him, between his legs and presses him hard against the bed.
Their cocks slide against each other and Arthur arches, pressing their bodies together. But it's clear that Saito wants more. He reaches over Arthur, but just out of reach. He twists his head, watching Saito's hand find exactly what it's looking for, lube and a condom. Arthur's breath catches and he cannot help but think of all the mistakes he's made in his life and how he doesn't deserve such a reward. But then Saito's fingers are inside him, two at once and Arthur can barely breathe. He arches his back, pressing against the fingers, wanting more. So much more.
Saito slides the condom on easily and there's another twinge of jealousy that he is clearly not, and was never going to be, the first. But then Saito's pressing into him, hard and rough and Arthur doesn't care anymore. The handful of times Arthur's been fucked have been short and anything but sweet. Not that Saito's sweet, but Arthur can feel the potential. Saito thrusts harder, pushing into him until the thrusting becomes pounding, hard and rough and Arthur knows he'll be sore tomorrow. He spreads his legs wider, ass lifting a bit and Saito's thrusts go from methodical to erratic and that's when he sinks closer, mouth against Arthur's.
He moans into the kiss, against Saito's mouth and it's all he can do to hold himself together. Saito's hand snakes up, pressing Arthur's hands to the bed and he strains against it. He doesn't know why, but it's even hotter this way. All out of control and he's so close he's shaking. He feels Saito's pace speed up, fucking him harder and harder. He barely registers Saito's hand moving, between them, but then Saito's hand is around his cock. He gasps out, he mumbles something, in French of all things. He doesn't think about anything except Saito. Above him, inside him, all around him. He shudders, pressing against Saito's hand and he's so close he's going to explode at any second.
Saito's mouth against his ear, tongue flicking lightly. "Wait," he whispers and Arthur has no choice but to obey. Saito thrusts harder and Arthur understands, just barely. He squeezes around him, straining against the hold and he feels, and watches, Saito come. It's not a thing of beauty, but he feels like he's going to float away with joy. It's everything he hoped and then Saito's whispering his name and that's all it takes. He comes crashing over them both. His hips ache, his ass hurts, his arms are sore and he doesn't care.
For a moment they're suspended, Saito still buried inside of him, Arthur's arms still above his head. But then, in what feels like a fluid moment, Saito pulls out and frees his hands. Arthur pulls them slowly down, massaging his wrists. Saito disappears briefly and just as Arthur's working up the energy to get up and go back to his room, he returns. He's holding a cloth. He cleans himself off and then holds it out to Arthur. He takes it and finds it's warm and soft, he cleans the come off his stomach, his thighs and then looks up at Saito.
The cloth slides to the floor as Saito climbs onto the bed. "Do you wish to stay?" Saito asks as he stretches out languidly on the bed, next to Arthur.
The words float around Arthur's head, like a bee buzzing around a flower. "The night?" He asks, voice hoarse and rough.
Saito's fingers play along his spine and he turns slightly, looking at Saito. "As long as you need."
Arthur's breath catches slightly. "And this?" He gestures between them.
"And this," is Saito's reply. He takes Arthur's wrist in his hand. He tugs, just slightly, pressing his mouth against the red lines from the necktie.
It's in that moment that Arthur makes his decision. He lets Saito pull him into his arms. Saito kisses him and it's gentle this time, with a hint of the sex they just had. It makes Arthur shiver.
"I hope I can give you what you are looking for." Saito's lips brush against Arthur's mouth as he speaks. Arthur cannot help but hope the same.