Inception: Sweet Time
Title: Sweet Time
Characters: Eames/Arthur
Rating: R (language and sensuality)
Word Count: ~2500
Disclaimer: Yeah, not my characters, not getting any money.
Summary: It's Eames birthday and he decides to celebrate by opening his "present" very slowly.
Notes: For this prompt on the kinkmeme: I pretty much just want Eames to undress Arthur. Slowly. Insanely slowly
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Eames logged off of the gaming site and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He'd known before he even started playing that it wouldn't be any more exciting than solitaire. Still, the membership account to the online casino had been a present from Ariadne -- to keep him out of trouble, she'd told him with that sweet, childish smile of hers -- and he'd felt he should at least give it a chance.
Dull and flavorless, like a party where they only serve water. It's no fun when the stakes aren't real... Not that they were usually real when Eames played in an actual casino... But the winnings were.
And then there was the thrill of danger: would they catch him? Can't forge poker chips or palm cards in cyberspace. He closed his laptop and watched the little LED lights flicker until it was just the power light blinking slowly, on and off, as the computer slept.
Sleep... He glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was nearly eleven -- not too early to go to bed, but not too late to go out. There was just one thing keeping him from doing either.
Arthur. He'd had to go out to some fancy, black tie event (the forger had been more concerned with convincing his lover that whatever it was, it was unimportant, and he couldn't exactly remember any details), but he'd promised that he'd come home before Eames' birthday was over. He's got one more hour. Eames drummed his fingers on his legs, trying to decide if he wanted Arthur to make it or not. The closet romantic in him really craved the opportunity to celebrate with his lover. The rest of him was rather looking forward to extorting all manner of... favors as punishment for the broken promise.
A little roleplay, perhaps? Yusuf's present to him had been a maid outfit, in Arthur's size. Or perhaps we could go for a little drive... His fingers stopped drumming and began sliding slowly up and down his own thighs as he imagined where they might go and all the things they might do there.
Until the sound of the door and Arthur's light step moving into the living room interrupted his increasingly heated musings. Eames jumped to his feet and swiftly strode into the next room. He found the point man standing in front of the sofa. He'd removed his dress shoes at the door, but he hadn't undone a single button of his tuxedo.
"Happy birthday," Arthur greeted him with a warm little smile.
"Oh honey, you shouldn't have," Eames said, sweeping his eyes over the other man's immaculate form.
"Shouldn't have what?"
"Gotten me a present."
"Eames, what are you talking about?"
"Wrapped just the way I like it." His eyes dropped to where Arthur's tailored trousers hugged his long legs, then moved up, tracing the sleek lines up over hips and waist to the tie at his neck. "And it even has a bow."
"Ah." Arthur's smile returned, a different kind of warmth filling it and sparkling in his eyes. "Do you want to open it now?" he asked, spreading his arms.
"Hmm," the forger hummed in reply as he moved closer. He placed his hands against the other man's chest and kneaded the muscle there softly before gliding his hands around and down Arthur's sides to his waist. "What have you got for me?" He heard the point man's breath catch slightly as the roaming hands moved down and around to cup his cheeks, kneading again in small, circular caresses. "Soft and warm," he breathed against an ear. "I'm going to have to take my time opening this."
"Mmm, not that I want you to tear this tux," the point man responded, voice slightly husky and eyes narrowed like a cat, "but I thought you were more the type to rip your presents open."
"Not the special ones." Eames ghosted his hands up Arthur's back to his head, twining his fingers in the dark hair above his neck. "With them, I take just as much pleasure in..." He pulled the other man closer and their lips just touched with the voicing of his next word. "Anticipation." He slid his hands under Arthur's arms to his collarbones and gently pushed him back a half-step, licking his lips at the subtle frustration that crossed his lover's features.
"Eames."
"Who's the birthday boy?" He asked the question with his sultriest smirk and had the satisfaction of seeing the frustration become less subtle as brown eyes traced the curve of his lips.
Still, Arthur sighed and spread his arms again in invitation. "Where are you going to start, birthday boy?"
"With the ribbon, naturally." Eames slowly walked his fingers along Arthur's collarbones to the tie at his neck. He deftly undid the button down collar, unworked the knots, and then stroked the free ends with his hands, pressing their sides into the dark jacket as he worked down the length of the tie. When he reached the ends, he released his left hand and pulled gently on the right side, slowly pulling the tie out and enjoying his lover's tiny shiver at the drawn out swish of cloth against cloth and the gentle friction against his sensitive neck. With a more mischievous curve of his lips, Eames dropped the tie to the floor.
"Eames--" Arthur started to protest, brow furrowing slightly, but subsided when the forger briefly whistled a refrain from "Happy Birthday."
"Now, for the first layer," Eames drawled, licking his lower lip. All hint of a frown left Arthur's eyes as they followed the motion. Eames moved his right hand to the buttons on the jacket and his left hand to a lapel. One-handed, he undid the buttons, one at a time. As the first button came free, he slipped his thumb under the jacket and slid his hand out, tracing under Arthur's collarbone this time and slowly slipping the jacket off his right shoulder. As he undid the second button, he gently pushed the garment off the left shoulder and gave the cotton clad bicep below it a quick caress before pulling his fingers back. With the release of the third and final button, the forger brushed the sides of his fingers along the back of Arthurs neck and, as the other man's shoulders quivered at the touch, reached around to the collar of the jacket. He pulled it down and off gradually, pressing his thumb against Arthur's spine just enough to bring a ticklish pressure to bear.
"Mmm," Arthur's breath hummed slightly as he shivered. His arms dropped to his sides and the jacket slipped off completely. With a careless flick of his wrist, Eames tossed the jacket onto the arm of the sofa. There were no half-voiced complaints this time.
What next? The forger asked himself, taking a half step back to admire his "present" again. Arthur now stood in shirt, pants, vest, and belt. Eames reached out hesitantly and undid the top two buttons on the shirt before dropping his hands again. He looks... so... The English language was suddenly inadequate, lacking a single word that meant gorgeous, sexy, inviting, edible, and lovely. The tailored suit highlighted every beloved curve on that slender body, making it virtually impossible for Eames to decide which to remove first.
Belt, he finally chose as the vest clinging to Arthur's sides called the forger's hands to that slim waist. He took a moment to enjoy the subtle dancing of flesh under fabric as he glided his hands from flanks to navel before starting work on the belt buckle. He was deliberately clumsy, his thumbs constantly brushing at Arthur's waist and his fingers brushing lower -- and every catch in his lover's breath encouraging him to take his time.
When the buckle was undone, he wrapped his fingers around it and slowly pulled. Arthur let the initial tug on his waist draw him forward and as Eames kept pulling, their lower bodies pressed together softly. He moved his grip to the midpoint of the belt and continued his slow pull until it was completely free. He dropped it to the floor behind him and placed his hands on Arthur's hips, fingers starting at the waist before gliding and curling to grip. There was a soft moan as the action drew their hips closer together, but it became a groan of frustration as Eames pushed back. Then, he circled around, left hand caressing almost low enough over the point man's abdomen, right hand brushing across the small of his back. Arthur's breath caught in his nose in a small, high moan and the forger began to feel the loveliest tingle of anticipation all through his body. As he came around behind the other man, Eames cocked his head back to enjoy how the fit of vest and trousers perfectly displayed the shape of that fine backside.
With an involuntary purr, he gripped hipbones again and drew his lover back against him. When his hands slid toward one another across Arthur's abdomen, the point man's head lolled back against Eames' shoulder and he made another of those delightful sounds. The forger wasn't sure if it was deliberate or not, but as his fingers painstakingly worked at Arthur's fly, his hips writhed in small, lascivious waves, pushing him back against Eames, who suddenly felt a good deal warmer. His fingers trembled slightly as he tugged the zipper down the last inch over the growing heat and hardness within. He flattened his fingers ever so briefly there, sharing a tiny groan of pleasure with Arthur as the other man shivered in his arms, before moving them back across the stomach to the hips. He then slowly caressed down, reveling in the feel of downy hair and soft skin over taut muscle as he pushed off the trousers. He tensed his fingers against Arthur's thighs when the other man began moving to step out of them.
"Eames?" There was a plaintive hint to his voice.
"Bit unorthodox for a present to unwrap itself, but..." Arthur clearly disliked being immobilized thus and Eames did want the trousers gone. "Go ahead and kick them away." He kept his hands on Arthur's thighs to keep the man's motions slow and his bottom pressed against Eames. It rubbed delectably against him as Arthur stepped and kicked free of his pants. He savored the contact for one more moment before stepping back again.
"Eames," Arthur nearly whined, hips rocking back to seek lost warmth.
"I told you, I'm taking my sweet time with this. Making every moment last." It wasn't easy, though. The sight of Arthur standing there, vest hugging his waist... shirt skirting below it, almost covering his briefs... long bare legs fully revealed below, except for the calves, half-hidden by socks... Eames circled around him again, conflicted by both the desire to look at Arthur forever and to push him back onto the sofa and make short work of the rest of his clothing. Taking my sweet time, he repeated to himself as he reached out to the buttons on the vest. The growing lust agitating him and misting his vision aided in slowing his motions. When the buttons were undone, he shifted his hands to Arthur's shoulders, pushing the vest back off them and then gliding his hands down the backs of his arms until the vest fell to the floor.
Arthur reached out then, involuntarily, to clutch Eames' arms, craving contact. Eames allowed it as he contemplated his next move -- or removal, as it were. With little conscious thought, his hands slipped under the hem of the shirt to the waistband of Arthur's underwear. He slid them in, down, and around to cup the soft warm curves of the other man's behind for the second time that night, this time reveling in the touch of bare skin. He pushed the briefs completely off those curves and then shifted his right hand to the front. He inserted two fingers in the waistband and pulled down.
"Eames," Arthur breathed out in a prolonged moan as the forger's fingers slowly brushed down his hard length as they drew down his underwear. The sound, and the warmth of Arthur against him, started to burn away Eames' control. He desperately tried to ignore the heat that radiated near his cheek and the increased pressure in his own pants as he crouched down to pull off the briefs. He kept his left hand in place, to support his lover as he shakily stepped out of his underwear.
"Almost there," Eames purred, reassuring both of them, as he rose again. The motion causing his own clothing to brush, agonizingly, sweetly against his own arousal. His fingers trembled more than before as he finished unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. It was hard to focus with his eyes being constantly drawn to the flushed, rigid flesh that jutted out from under the hem. Still, he got the last button undone and he took a half step back as the shirt fell open.
His breath caught in something between a gasp and a groan at the sight before him. Arthur, trembling slightly with his lower lip between his teeth, skin rosy with arousal and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, covered only by an open Egyptian cotton shirt, which clung to his dampened skin at breast and flank, and a pair of socks.
Fuck, Eames cursed as his control crumbled completely and he pushed Arthur back onto the sofa. He had just enough presence of mind to enjoy the view of his lover sprawled there with his shirt fanned around him, before he was kneeling over him, covering his lips with his own. His hands went to his own clothes, where Arthur's joined him in feverishly removing them.
Long, hot, breathless moments later, as they lay back on the sofa together, Arthur whispered, "I thought... you were going to take... your sweet time."
"Just in unwrapping," Eames responded, caressing the length of Arthur's torso under his shirt. "I never said how I'd enjoy my present."
"And have you?" The point man asked against his ear, voice pitched low.
"Mm, not nearly enough."
"Well, it's still your birthday in some part of the world." Arthur's tiny grin somehow managed to be both sweet and wicked at the same time.
"Yes, it is," Eames replied, rising and then helping Arthur to his feet. "That being the case..." He took Arthur's hand and led him into the bedroom. With a wide smirk that just managed not to be a leer, he picked up the box that held his present from Yusuf.
"I think I know just how to celebrate."
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Dang it! I always get carried away and write more than I intend with these sensual prompts.
I do love them so.