fic: into your skin
Title: into your skin
Rating: NC-17
Genre(s): PWP
Word Count: ~830
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Arthur / Eames
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.
Summary: Shameless porn (again) for hermette's Fuck Yeah Friday (originally posted here), inspired by the following NSFW picture under cut:
“Arthur?” he whispers in your ear, and you can hear the smirk in his voice so loud, you wish you could kiss him quiet. He wraps his warm, equally naked body around you, brings his arms around your torso, and rests his chin on your shoulder. You can feel the stubble graze your sensitive skin.
“Yes, Eames?” you remark dryly, and you don’t incline your head to look at him, but you can feel the press of his half-hard cock against your arse. You know what he wants.
Eames is silent as he draws circles with his mouth on your back, licks at the bones, has you catching your breath despite your best intentions to refrain from giving in again.
“Haven’t you had enough already?” you quip, rolling your eyes. You’ve just woken up; the early afternoon sunshine is filtering through the half-drawn vertical blinds, and you’ve only sat up for less than thirty seconds and already he’s all over you. You wish you minded more; you wish you could say no to him.
“I’ll never have enough of you, darling,” Eames breathes into your skin, and it sends goosebumps down your arm and sides and legs. If he notices, he doesn’t say.
“I hate you,” you say petulantly. Eames’ hand wanders down your chest. “You kept me up all night. You’re insatiable.”
Eames merely chuckles, and he pinches a nipple. You breathe in hard, suck in air and feel your cock twitch with interest.
“I think the lady doth protest too much,” Eames whispers slyly, nipping at the shell of your ear, and you hate him so much - that lazy British lilt of his accent that had you begging for it like a whore last night.
“I’m not a lady, Eames,” you snap without malice, but everything else you want to say is wiped away when Eames’ hand takes your cock - wraps his huge fingers around it, already hardening - and pulls on it gently.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” Eames grins into your hair as you gasp at the sudden blood rush. “Now shut up and let me take care of you. There’s a good boy.”
You want to say I’m not a boy either, but all your protests die on your tongue when Eames begins to fist you, slow at first, but gaining pace when your cock grows hard fast under his touch.
“Eames,” you stutter, and your head falls back onto his shoulder. You shut your eyes from his lewd smile. “Faster, damn it.”
“I knew you’d be converted to my way of thinking,” Eames murmurs, and kisses along your neck as his fingers fly over your shaft. He knows what he’s doing - how to twist his wrist, when to thumb your head and whisper dirty nothings in your ear that have you thrusting into his hand, wanton and undone.
He’s done this so many times before, you’ve let him, and fuck it feels good every time.
“Eames,” you pant, and clutch at his thigh around your waist. He’s beginning to rut gently against your arse, his cock slipping between your cheeks. “Close, I’m close-”
“I know, love.” He uses his other hand, then, to slip it towards your hole - still loose from the night before - and pushes one finger in, fast and without warning (and when did he lick them wet?). You arch up against his chest and cry, and then you’re coming, coming, coming everywhere.
You sag into Eames again with a breathy sigh. His hand and your chest are smattered with white, and you hazily bend back and suck a slow kiss against his neck as he whines and snaps his hips up, harder. “Want me to suck you off?”
Eames shakes his head. “I’m almost there, this is good,” he rasps into your ear. “Just stay still, darling.” He grasps your waist, holds on tight as his cock slides against your arsecheeks. His hardness sends shivers down your spine. You take his forgotten hand and pull his wet fingers to your mouth, and begin sucking them clean, every bit of you swallowed down your throat, and Eames makes a choked noise, something between God and fuck and Arthur, and then you feel warm wetness sliding down your arse as Eames thrusts and ruts and groans.
When Eames slows, you let him pull your face back for a rough, tongue-frenzied kiss. You know the taste of you turns him on.
When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning, and you know that look too well.
“Going to fuck you into the pillows now, Arthur,” he says, and you gasp as two fingers slide into you, come-slick and huge in your arse. “And you’re going to take it all, aren’t you?”
You don’t remember what your answer is, because then you’re on your front, your face against the smooth bed covers, and you moan out loud as you’re stuffed full of cock, and yes, you love it - you wouldn’t exchange this for anything else in the world.
Rating: NC-17
Genre(s): PWP
Word Count: ~830
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Arthur / Eames
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.
Summary: Shameless porn (again) for hermette's Fuck Yeah Friday (originally posted here), inspired by the following NSFW picture under cut:
“Arthur?” he whispers in your ear, and you can hear the smirk in his voice so loud, you wish you could kiss him quiet. He wraps his warm, equally naked body around you, brings his arms around your torso, and rests his chin on your shoulder. You can feel the stubble graze your sensitive skin.
“Yes, Eames?” you remark dryly, and you don’t incline your head to look at him, but you can feel the press of his half-hard cock against your arse. You know what he wants.
Eames is silent as he draws circles with his mouth on your back, licks at the bones, has you catching your breath despite your best intentions to refrain from giving in again.
“Haven’t you had enough already?” you quip, rolling your eyes. You’ve just woken up; the early afternoon sunshine is filtering through the half-drawn vertical blinds, and you’ve only sat up for less than thirty seconds and already he’s all over you. You wish you minded more; you wish you could say no to him.
“I’ll never have enough of you, darling,” Eames breathes into your skin, and it sends goosebumps down your arm and sides and legs. If he notices, he doesn’t say.
“I hate you,” you say petulantly. Eames’ hand wanders down your chest. “You kept me up all night. You’re insatiable.”
Eames merely chuckles, and he pinches a nipple. You breathe in hard, suck in air and feel your cock twitch with interest.
“I think the lady doth protest too much,” Eames whispers slyly, nipping at the shell of your ear, and you hate him so much - that lazy British lilt of his accent that had you begging for it like a whore last night.
“I’m not a lady, Eames,” you snap without malice, but everything else you want to say is wiped away when Eames’ hand takes your cock - wraps his huge fingers around it, already hardening - and pulls on it gently.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” Eames grins into your hair as you gasp at the sudden blood rush. “Now shut up and let me take care of you. There’s a good boy.”
You want to say I’m not a boy either, but all your protests die on your tongue when Eames begins to fist you, slow at first, but gaining pace when your cock grows hard fast under his touch.
“Eames,” you stutter, and your head falls back onto his shoulder. You shut your eyes from his lewd smile. “Faster, damn it.”
“I knew you’d be converted to my way of thinking,” Eames murmurs, and kisses along your neck as his fingers fly over your shaft. He knows what he’s doing - how to twist his wrist, when to thumb your head and whisper dirty nothings in your ear that have you thrusting into his hand, wanton and undone.
He’s done this so many times before, you’ve let him, and fuck it feels good every time.
“Eames,” you pant, and clutch at his thigh around your waist. He’s beginning to rut gently against your arse, his cock slipping between your cheeks. “Close, I’m close-”
“I know, love.” He uses his other hand, then, to slip it towards your hole - still loose from the night before - and pushes one finger in, fast and without warning (and when did he lick them wet?). You arch up against his chest and cry, and then you’re coming, coming, coming everywhere.
You sag into Eames again with a breathy sigh. His hand and your chest are smattered with white, and you hazily bend back and suck a slow kiss against his neck as he whines and snaps his hips up, harder. “Want me to suck you off?”
Eames shakes his head. “I’m almost there, this is good,” he rasps into your ear. “Just stay still, darling.” He grasps your waist, holds on tight as his cock slides against your arsecheeks. His hardness sends shivers down your spine. You take his forgotten hand and pull his wet fingers to your mouth, and begin sucking them clean, every bit of you swallowed down your throat, and Eames makes a choked noise, something between God and fuck and Arthur, and then you feel warm wetness sliding down your arse as Eames thrusts and ruts and groans.
When Eames slows, you let him pull your face back for a rough, tongue-frenzied kiss. You know the taste of you turns him on.
When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning, and you know that look too well.
“Going to fuck you into the pillows now, Arthur,” he says, and you gasp as two fingers slide into you, come-slick and huge in your arse. “And you’re going to take it all, aren’t you?”
You don’t remember what your answer is, because then you’re on your front, your face against the smooth bed covers, and you moan out loud as you’re stuffed full of cock, and yes, you love it - you wouldn’t exchange this for anything else in the world.