fic: I care naught for sleep 2/2
Title: I care naught for sleep.
Author: Secret Santa
Beta: OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: graphic sexual situations, depictions of death, allusions to violence against children
Notes: Written for scarlet_malfoy’s prompt over at fakebody’s Secret Santa Fic Exchange
Summary: Build me up around you love; I care naught for sleep. These walls will whisper in my ear and carve for me thy dreams.
Build me up around you, love; I care naught for sleep
Part 1
Arthur came awake with a gasp. The off-white tiles of the hospital ceiling swam before his eyes. He felt the I.V. slide from his wrist and looked down to see Yusuf eyeing him with concern. Arthur shook his head. He had thought, for a moment upon waking, that he had dropped into limbo. But he knew where he was; he recognised his surroundings. He was awake.
Dom was already at Mr Uehara’s side conversing with him in hushed voices. Chinatsu still lay sleeping. Yusuf had said that might happen - that the sedative in her system might keep her unconscious even after the Somnacin had worn off, but it would be a natural sleep. He craned his head to search for Eames. The chair was empty. Ariadne motioned with her head to the door that was just swinging shut on its hinges. With a glance around the room, Arthur followed.
He found Eames at the back of the hospital, loitering by the ambulance bay. A cigarette was already pressed between his lips, the orange tip flaring bright. When Arthur approached, he wordlessly offered up the pack. Arthur took it, accepting the lighter when Eames handed it over. The smoke was coarse in Arthur’s lungs. He snuck a look at the label, grimacing at the flavour. He blew the smoke to one side, letting it stream towards the ground. Eames blew his into the air.
“Will Cobb call the police, do you think?” Eames asked. He was staring at the watery sunlight.
Arthur rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “I wasn’t sure how much of that you would hear.” He said at last, breath misting before his face.
“I heard everything.” Eames said. For a moment he looked as though he might say something else, and Arthur waited expectantly, but in the end he just sighed. “So, cops?”
Arthur snorted. “On what grounds?”
Eames stared at him, breath and smoke coiling in the air. Arthur shrugged in annoyance. “She’s dead Eames. We have no proof that he knew what his wife was doing and we burned the memories out of Chinatsu; she no longer knows what happened.”
“So that’s it then?”
Arthur shrugged and flicked ash onto the snow. Extraction was supposed to be efficient. This job had been a mess.
“How are you, anyway?” Arthur asked.
“Fine.” The answer came too quickly. Arthur watched Eames sidelong; watched the muscle jumping in his cheek and the way his hand was clenched into a fist.
“Eames -”
“Look, it didn’t mean anything, darling, alright? Just - leave it, yeah?”
Leave it. Arthur felt something coil cold and greasy in the pit of his stomach. He nodded, feeling his head jerk uncomfortably on his spine. When he next took a drag from the cigarette, the tobacco tasted stale in his mouth.
“I have to check in with Dom. Feel free to head back to the hotel. I’ll wire your share to you. Mombasa, right?”
Eames nodded. He was watching Arthur, intently. Arthur threw his half-finished cigarette into the snow and ground it out with his toe. He hesitated, before turning on his heel and marching back into the hospital. He could feel the weight of Eames’ gaze on his back as he left.
Dom was just stepping into the corridor when Arthur entered the ward; Ariadne and Yusuf were nowhere in sight.
“She’s awake.” Dom said. “She doesn’t know where she is, or who her parents are. She knows who she is - sort of. She seems to recognise her own name, at any rate. Not much else.”
“You?”
“No. I thought she might but no - there’s nothing there.”
Arthur wanted to ask if it was safe, to leave Chinatsu with her father. Dom read the question on her face.
“He was never really the issue. Besides, I think he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to repay that debt.”
Arthur snorted. “He won’t succeed.”
“No.” Dom said. “We never quite get rid of guilt.”
Arthur knew they were not talking about the Ueharas anymore. He followed Cobb back out into the sunshine, pulling open the passenger side door to the car.
“The others already made their way to the hotel?”
“Yeah.” Dom said. “Yusuf wanted to be on the next flight out and I think Ariadne went with him. You spoke to Eames?”
“I’ll wire him the funds once they clear. Drop me at the office. I near to clear the place down before we leave.”
They pulled out into light traffic. Several times Cobb opened his mouth before shutting it again. When they pulled into the space before the building, Arthur sat patiently.
“I don’t know what it was like for the two of you, until we found you.” Dom said, “And quite frankly I’m not going to ask. But - I know what it’s like to think you’re going to drop into limbo, unable to find your way back. Sometimes it takes a while to get over it.”
Arthur nodded and opened the door. Dom did not call after him.
Ariadne and Yusuf had obviously already been by; Arthur must have just missed them. Whatever they had chosen to leave behind, Arthur swept into the bin - dragging the whole thing outside before setting it alight. The surfaces were simple enough to wipe down. Saito’s people would no doubt be by to do a more thorough job but Arthur was satisfied he had removed the majority of the fingerprints left behind. He was just stowing the whiteboard against one wall when he heard the door open.
He turned, expecting to see Dom come to say one final piece and was surprised to see Eames in the doorway.
“If you wanted your notes,” Arthur said, “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I already burned them.”
Eames let out a breathy chuckle. To Arthur, he looked tired. “I didn’t come here for paperwork, love.”
Arthur twitched slightly at the moniker. “What are you here for then?”
“I may have been a bit of a prick. At the hospital. I just -”
“Don’t.” Arthur said, cutting him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Eames.” He busied himself with stacking the furniture; it was a consuming enough task that he could avoid looking at Eames.
Eames made a frustrated sort of noise and crossed the room in quick strides. “That’s just the thing, Arthur. I rather think I do.” His hand fell on Arthur’s shoulder, warm and heavy through the fabric of his clothing.
“Eames -”
“Hear me out, darling. I’ve never been very good with rejection. Much easier to nip that sort of thing in the bud. But, I’m starting to think maybe I got the wrong idea.”
Arthur felt trapped. He had been hurt, earlier, but he was not sure he was ready for this either.
“Arthur. Please.”
It would have been churlish to keep staring at the floor when Eames had said please. Steeling himself, Arthur raised his gaze.
“You know.” Eames said. “This whole thing might not be quite as painful as you’re imagining.”
Arthur shook his head. “You don’t know that. You can’t plan this.”
“I know you don’t like surprises, darling. But that really is half the fun.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Eames cut him off with a kiss. His lips were warm and dry, slightly chapped from the cold. Eames’ hand felt far too large on Arthur’s hip, on the small of his back as Eames dragged him closer. Eames flicked his tongue against Arthur’s lips, making a soft sound of pleasure when Arthur opened them.
“Say yes.” Eames told him. “Arthur, say yes.” The words were almost so quiet that Arthur could discount them as a noisy breath, but he knew what Eames had said.
“Yes.”
oOo
The hotel room was sweltering; the heat cranked far too high. Eames was on him the second they got through the door to his suite, pressing Arthur up against the wood, one leg braced between his thighs and chest pinning him to the door. Arthur would have preferred his own territory, but his room was further down the hall: too far away.
Eames mouthed wetly at his neck, stubble rasping the underside of Arthur’s chin. It burned, but when Eames licked at the skin beneath Arthur’s Adam’s apple, Arthur forgot to complain. He scrabbled for the buttons on Eames’ shirt, cursing when his fingers slipped over the mother-of-pearl beads. Frustrated, Arthur dug his nails into the fabric, not caring that he scored the skin underneath in his haste. Eames hissed and backed away, dragging the shirt over his head - buttons and all - before letting it drop to the floor behind him. Arthur tugged him back in by the belt, flipping the buckle with a quick flick of his fingers and deftly sliding the leather from the loops. Eames stopped him when Arthur’s hands curled over his fly.
“You first love.” He murmured. His hands were wrapped in Arthur’s tie, using the material to tilt Arthur’s head back and up into a kiss. It was filthy and wet and Eames tongue was hot in Arthur’s mouth. For the first time in his life, Arthur regretted being quite so well dressed. The jacket, waistcoat, tie and shirt took far too long to remove. Arthur was panting, rutting shamelessly against Eames’ leg, by the time Eames had stripped him to the waist.
Arthur forced his hips to still, and Eames stepped away, allowing them both to shove the remainder of the clothes to their feet. Arthur stumbled, trying to walk out of his shoes and touch Eames all at the same time. Eames huffed a quiet laugh but Arthur ignored him. His hands were mapping miles of firm, tan skin; ink spilled in spirals across Eames’ chest and down his arms, curling across his hip. On impulse, Arthur dropped to his knees and licked. Eames’ right knee buckled.
“Bed.” He gasped.
Arthur shook his head. Wrapping both hands around Eames’ hips to hold him still, he leant in again. He laved at Eames’ skin. Above his head, he heard Eames smack a hand into the wall, searching for purchase. His hips were thrusting minutely, trying to direct Arthur’s attention. Arthur took pity on him. He wrapped his lips around the tip of Eames’ cock, and sucked. Eames’ fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as Arthur worked his mouth over Eames’ length. He glanced up, view partly obscured by the hair that had fallen into his eyes, to see Eames watching him intently. Arthur expected to see lust in the gaze, and he did. But there was also something deeper that sent a warm flush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. He wanted to lower his eyes again but Eames’ finger stroked lightly across the underside of his chin and it was enough to keep Arthur’s gaze tilted upwards.
“Darling.” Eames whispered. Arthur pulled away, panting.
He wanted to say something appropriate, something meaningful. But all that came out was, “Eames.”
Eames dragged him to his feet, pushing their mouths together with bruising force. Arthur moaned, pressing his body down the full length of Eames’. He pushed and Eames followed his lead, stumbling backwards through the living area towards the bed.
The mattress was soft, bouncing as Eames thrust Arthur down onto it. Arthur pushed himself up to the pillows, dragging Eames with him, perfectly content to fit their mouths together and simply kiss. Eames’ hand slipped into the hollow of Arthur’s spine, pressing them closer together as he coiled his tongue around Arthur’s own.
“Eames.”Arthur said. He braced hand on the side of Eames’ face, “Eames, I -” He could not quite say it.
“Shh, love. I know.”
Arthur’s eyelids fluttered as Eames worked his way down Arthur’s chest, peppering kisses against the skin. He expected Eames to stop once he reached Arthur’s hips so he was surprised when Eames continued further down and then said, “Roll over.”
Arthur did so, confused until he felt Eames’ moist breath brush against the sensitive skin at the back of his thighs.
The first brush of Eames’ tongue had Arthur’s hips jerking towards the mattress. Two large hands came up to hold him in place. Eames stoked over Arthur’s hole in long, wet stripes, dipping inside in an erratic rhythm that Arthur could not predict. When Eames pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, Arthur keened.
“Eames.” He babbled. “Now, please. Please.”
Eames stroked a hand over Arthur’s spine, soothing. “Patience, darling. I’ve got you.”
Arthur whimpered. He heard the pop of a bottle lid; felt the cool, wet slide of Eames’ fingers against his skin. The friction was exquisite. Arthur pushed back against Eames’ fingers, forcing himself down to the knuckle.
“You’re beautiful like this.” Eames murmured. The second finger burned. Arthur groaned as Eames scissored them gently. He twisted, contorting one arm blindly to drag Eames down into an awkward, messy kiss. Their teeth clacked together when Eames grazed Arthur’s prostate, causing him to jerk upward, sharply. Arthur glared. Eames looked thoroughly unrepentant. He milked Arthur’s prostate mercilessly, revelling in the way Arthur’s head flopped down, loose on his neck; arms trembling as they tried to support his weight.
“God, Eames.” Arthur breathed. He felt a pang of loss when Eames removed his fingers, only to have his breath catch in his throat when Eames lined himself up and pushed in. He moved almost inexorably slow. Arthur wanted to thrust back, to take Eames to the hilt, but Eames held him firm, working his way in, inch by inch, until the bed was damp with Arthur’s sweat. Pre-come was oozing from the tip of Arthur’s cock; the sheets providing a delicious friction that was not quite enough.
Eames’ bottomed out and Arthur could feel him panting, chest pressed against Arthur’s back. He began to work his hips in steady, rolling thrusts; grazing Arthur’s prostate with unerring accuracy. Arthur wrapped a hand around his own cock, jerking erratically as Eames’ thrusts picked up speed. He could feel his orgasm rising. His breathing was erratic, blood pounding loud in his ears. Eames was whispering an incomprehensible mess of obscenities and endearments, voice low and ragged as his hips began to lose rhythm.
Arthur’s climax took him by surprise. It ripped through him, pulling a cry from his throat, as he spurted hot and wet across the bed sheets. Eames groaned as Arthur clenched around him. He managed two more thrusts before he came, Arthur’s name falling from his lips.
Spent, the pair collapsed onto the mattress. Eames slung an arm warm and heavy across Arthur’s chest, dragging him close until he was tucked against Eames’ side. Arthur made half-hearted show of protest but despite the sweat and semen congealing uncomfortably on his skin, he was perfectly content to settle against Eames chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Craning his neck, Arthur ran fingers through the strands of Eames’ hair he could reach. Eames raised his head.
Arthur trailed his fingers down the side of Eames’ face. “That house,” Arthur said. “Do you think we’ll find one like it?”
Eames’ smile was answer enough.
End
Author: Secret Santa
Beta: OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: graphic sexual situations, depictions of death, allusions to violence against children
Notes: Written for scarlet_malfoy’s prompt over at fakebody’s Secret Santa Fic Exchange
Summary: Build me up around you love; I care naught for sleep. These walls will whisper in my ear and carve for me thy dreams.
Build me up around you, love; I care naught for sleep
Part 1
Arthur came awake with a gasp. The off-white tiles of the hospital ceiling swam before his eyes. He felt the I.V. slide from his wrist and looked down to see Yusuf eyeing him with concern. Arthur shook his head. He had thought, for a moment upon waking, that he had dropped into limbo. But he knew where he was; he recognised his surroundings. He was awake.
Dom was already at Mr Uehara’s side conversing with him in hushed voices. Chinatsu still lay sleeping. Yusuf had said that might happen - that the sedative in her system might keep her unconscious even after the Somnacin had worn off, but it would be a natural sleep. He craned his head to search for Eames. The chair was empty. Ariadne motioned with her head to the door that was just swinging shut on its hinges. With a glance around the room, Arthur followed.
He found Eames at the back of the hospital, loitering by the ambulance bay. A cigarette was already pressed between his lips, the orange tip flaring bright. When Arthur approached, he wordlessly offered up the pack. Arthur took it, accepting the lighter when Eames handed it over. The smoke was coarse in Arthur’s lungs. He snuck a look at the label, grimacing at the flavour. He blew the smoke to one side, letting it stream towards the ground. Eames blew his into the air.
“Will Cobb call the police, do you think?” Eames asked. He was staring at the watery sunlight.
Arthur rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “I wasn’t sure how much of that you would hear.” He said at last, breath misting before his face.
“I heard everything.” Eames said. For a moment he looked as though he might say something else, and Arthur waited expectantly, but in the end he just sighed. “So, cops?”
Arthur snorted. “On what grounds?”
Eames stared at him, breath and smoke coiling in the air. Arthur shrugged in annoyance. “She’s dead Eames. We have no proof that he knew what his wife was doing and we burned the memories out of Chinatsu; she no longer knows what happened.”
“So that’s it then?”
Arthur shrugged and flicked ash onto the snow. Extraction was supposed to be efficient. This job had been a mess.
“How are you, anyway?” Arthur asked.
“Fine.” The answer came too quickly. Arthur watched Eames sidelong; watched the muscle jumping in his cheek and the way his hand was clenched into a fist.
“Eames -”
“Look, it didn’t mean anything, darling, alright? Just - leave it, yeah?”
Leave it. Arthur felt something coil cold and greasy in the pit of his stomach. He nodded, feeling his head jerk uncomfortably on his spine. When he next took a drag from the cigarette, the tobacco tasted stale in his mouth.
“I have to check in with Dom. Feel free to head back to the hotel. I’ll wire your share to you. Mombasa, right?”
Eames nodded. He was watching Arthur, intently. Arthur threw his half-finished cigarette into the snow and ground it out with his toe. He hesitated, before turning on his heel and marching back into the hospital. He could feel the weight of Eames’ gaze on his back as he left.
Dom was just stepping into the corridor when Arthur entered the ward; Ariadne and Yusuf were nowhere in sight.
“She’s awake.” Dom said. “She doesn’t know where she is, or who her parents are. She knows who she is - sort of. She seems to recognise her own name, at any rate. Not much else.”
“You?”
“No. I thought she might but no - there’s nothing there.”
Arthur wanted to ask if it was safe, to leave Chinatsu with her father. Dom read the question on her face.
“He was never really the issue. Besides, I think he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to repay that debt.”
Arthur snorted. “He won’t succeed.”
“No.” Dom said. “We never quite get rid of guilt.”
Arthur knew they were not talking about the Ueharas anymore. He followed Cobb back out into the sunshine, pulling open the passenger side door to the car.
“The others already made their way to the hotel?”
“Yeah.” Dom said. “Yusuf wanted to be on the next flight out and I think Ariadne went with him. You spoke to Eames?”
“I’ll wire him the funds once they clear. Drop me at the office. I near to clear the place down before we leave.”
They pulled out into light traffic. Several times Cobb opened his mouth before shutting it again. When they pulled into the space before the building, Arthur sat patiently.
“I don’t know what it was like for the two of you, until we found you.” Dom said, “And quite frankly I’m not going to ask. But - I know what it’s like to think you’re going to drop into limbo, unable to find your way back. Sometimes it takes a while to get over it.”
Arthur nodded and opened the door. Dom did not call after him.
Ariadne and Yusuf had obviously already been by; Arthur must have just missed them. Whatever they had chosen to leave behind, Arthur swept into the bin - dragging the whole thing outside before setting it alight. The surfaces were simple enough to wipe down. Saito’s people would no doubt be by to do a more thorough job but Arthur was satisfied he had removed the majority of the fingerprints left behind. He was just stowing the whiteboard against one wall when he heard the door open.
He turned, expecting to see Dom come to say one final piece and was surprised to see Eames in the doorway.
“If you wanted your notes,” Arthur said, “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I already burned them.”
Eames let out a breathy chuckle. To Arthur, he looked tired. “I didn’t come here for paperwork, love.”
Arthur twitched slightly at the moniker. “What are you here for then?”
“I may have been a bit of a prick. At the hospital. I just -”
“Don’t.” Arthur said, cutting him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Eames.” He busied himself with stacking the furniture; it was a consuming enough task that he could avoid looking at Eames.
Eames made a frustrated sort of noise and crossed the room in quick strides. “That’s just the thing, Arthur. I rather think I do.” His hand fell on Arthur’s shoulder, warm and heavy through the fabric of his clothing.
“Eames -”
“Hear me out, darling. I’ve never been very good with rejection. Much easier to nip that sort of thing in the bud. But, I’m starting to think maybe I got the wrong idea.”
Arthur felt trapped. He had been hurt, earlier, but he was not sure he was ready for this either.
“Arthur. Please.”
It would have been churlish to keep staring at the floor when Eames had said please. Steeling himself, Arthur raised his gaze.
“You know.” Eames said. “This whole thing might not be quite as painful as you’re imagining.”
Arthur shook his head. “You don’t know that. You can’t plan this.”
“I know you don’t like surprises, darling. But that really is half the fun.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Eames cut him off with a kiss. His lips were warm and dry, slightly chapped from the cold. Eames’ hand felt far too large on Arthur’s hip, on the small of his back as Eames dragged him closer. Eames flicked his tongue against Arthur’s lips, making a soft sound of pleasure when Arthur opened them.
“Say yes.” Eames told him. “Arthur, say yes.” The words were almost so quiet that Arthur could discount them as a noisy breath, but he knew what Eames had said.
“Yes.”
oOo
The hotel room was sweltering; the heat cranked far too high. Eames was on him the second they got through the door to his suite, pressing Arthur up against the wood, one leg braced between his thighs and chest pinning him to the door. Arthur would have preferred his own territory, but his room was further down the hall: too far away.
Eames mouthed wetly at his neck, stubble rasping the underside of Arthur’s chin. It burned, but when Eames licked at the skin beneath Arthur’s Adam’s apple, Arthur forgot to complain. He scrabbled for the buttons on Eames’ shirt, cursing when his fingers slipped over the mother-of-pearl beads. Frustrated, Arthur dug his nails into the fabric, not caring that he scored the skin underneath in his haste. Eames hissed and backed away, dragging the shirt over his head - buttons and all - before letting it drop to the floor behind him. Arthur tugged him back in by the belt, flipping the buckle with a quick flick of his fingers and deftly sliding the leather from the loops. Eames stopped him when Arthur’s hands curled over his fly.
“You first love.” He murmured. His hands were wrapped in Arthur’s tie, using the material to tilt Arthur’s head back and up into a kiss. It was filthy and wet and Eames tongue was hot in Arthur’s mouth. For the first time in his life, Arthur regretted being quite so well dressed. The jacket, waistcoat, tie and shirt took far too long to remove. Arthur was panting, rutting shamelessly against Eames’ leg, by the time Eames had stripped him to the waist.
Arthur forced his hips to still, and Eames stepped away, allowing them both to shove the remainder of the clothes to their feet. Arthur stumbled, trying to walk out of his shoes and touch Eames all at the same time. Eames huffed a quiet laugh but Arthur ignored him. His hands were mapping miles of firm, tan skin; ink spilled in spirals across Eames’ chest and down his arms, curling across his hip. On impulse, Arthur dropped to his knees and licked. Eames’ right knee buckled.
“Bed.” He gasped.
Arthur shook his head. Wrapping both hands around Eames’ hips to hold him still, he leant in again. He laved at Eames’ skin. Above his head, he heard Eames smack a hand into the wall, searching for purchase. His hips were thrusting minutely, trying to direct Arthur’s attention. Arthur took pity on him. He wrapped his lips around the tip of Eames’ cock, and sucked. Eames’ fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as Arthur worked his mouth over Eames’ length. He glanced up, view partly obscured by the hair that had fallen into his eyes, to see Eames watching him intently. Arthur expected to see lust in the gaze, and he did. But there was also something deeper that sent a warm flush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. He wanted to lower his eyes again but Eames’ finger stroked lightly across the underside of his chin and it was enough to keep Arthur’s gaze tilted upwards.
“Darling.” Eames whispered. Arthur pulled away, panting.
He wanted to say something appropriate, something meaningful. But all that came out was, “Eames.”
Eames dragged him to his feet, pushing their mouths together with bruising force. Arthur moaned, pressing his body down the full length of Eames’. He pushed and Eames followed his lead, stumbling backwards through the living area towards the bed.
The mattress was soft, bouncing as Eames thrust Arthur down onto it. Arthur pushed himself up to the pillows, dragging Eames with him, perfectly content to fit their mouths together and simply kiss. Eames’ hand slipped into the hollow of Arthur’s spine, pressing them closer together as he coiled his tongue around Arthur’s own.
“Eames.”Arthur said. He braced hand on the side of Eames’ face, “Eames, I -” He could not quite say it.
“Shh, love. I know.”
Arthur’s eyelids fluttered as Eames worked his way down Arthur’s chest, peppering kisses against the skin. He expected Eames to stop once he reached Arthur’s hips so he was surprised when Eames continued further down and then said, “Roll over.”
Arthur did so, confused until he felt Eames’ moist breath brush against the sensitive skin at the back of his thighs.
The first brush of Eames’ tongue had Arthur’s hips jerking towards the mattress. Two large hands came up to hold him in place. Eames stoked over Arthur’s hole in long, wet stripes, dipping inside in an erratic rhythm that Arthur could not predict. When Eames pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, Arthur keened.
“Eames.” He babbled. “Now, please. Please.”
Eames stroked a hand over Arthur’s spine, soothing. “Patience, darling. I’ve got you.”
Arthur whimpered. He heard the pop of a bottle lid; felt the cool, wet slide of Eames’ fingers against his skin. The friction was exquisite. Arthur pushed back against Eames’ fingers, forcing himself down to the knuckle.
“You’re beautiful like this.” Eames murmured. The second finger burned. Arthur groaned as Eames scissored them gently. He twisted, contorting one arm blindly to drag Eames down into an awkward, messy kiss. Their teeth clacked together when Eames grazed Arthur’s prostate, causing him to jerk upward, sharply. Arthur glared. Eames looked thoroughly unrepentant. He milked Arthur’s prostate mercilessly, revelling in the way Arthur’s head flopped down, loose on his neck; arms trembling as they tried to support his weight.
“God, Eames.” Arthur breathed. He felt a pang of loss when Eames removed his fingers, only to have his breath catch in his throat when Eames lined himself up and pushed in. He moved almost inexorably slow. Arthur wanted to thrust back, to take Eames to the hilt, but Eames held him firm, working his way in, inch by inch, until the bed was damp with Arthur’s sweat. Pre-come was oozing from the tip of Arthur’s cock; the sheets providing a delicious friction that was not quite enough.
Eames’ bottomed out and Arthur could feel him panting, chest pressed against Arthur’s back. He began to work his hips in steady, rolling thrusts; grazing Arthur’s prostate with unerring accuracy. Arthur wrapped a hand around his own cock, jerking erratically as Eames’ thrusts picked up speed. He could feel his orgasm rising. His breathing was erratic, blood pounding loud in his ears. Eames was whispering an incomprehensible mess of obscenities and endearments, voice low and ragged as his hips began to lose rhythm.
Arthur’s climax took him by surprise. It ripped through him, pulling a cry from his throat, as he spurted hot and wet across the bed sheets. Eames groaned as Arthur clenched around him. He managed two more thrusts before he came, Arthur’s name falling from his lips.
Spent, the pair collapsed onto the mattress. Eames slung an arm warm and heavy across Arthur’s chest, dragging him close until he was tucked against Eames’ side. Arthur made half-hearted show of protest but despite the sweat and semen congealing uncomfortably on his skin, he was perfectly content to settle against Eames chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Craning his neck, Arthur ran fingers through the strands of Eames’ hair he could reach. Eames raised his head.
Arthur trailed his fingers down the side of Eames’ face. “That house,” Arthur said. “Do you think we’ll find one like it?”
Eames’ smile was answer enough.
End