#6 in a series of one night stands
Title: #6 in a series of one night stands
Author: cmonkatiekatie
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: sex
Word count: 1,400
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Notes: First part here! Um, these are not in numerical order. At all.
It's maybe their fifth job together, and things go mostly by rote now. Well, as rote as dream sharing can go.
(Really, the only easy part is their relationship. Or their nonrelationship. Eames can admit that not defining things does make it somewhat difficult to think through them clearly.)
The point is, Arthur and Eames, they have this thing down to a science. They get through a job, generally with as much ribbing and animosity as possible, and then, just when the tension is close to bubbling over, they fuck it out.
This job feels different, though. It's early, only a couple days in, and Arthur's been unusually quiet. There are dark shadows lurking under his eyes and his mouth is drawn up tight, just like his shoulders.
Eames is sure he can't look much better. He's had a rough couple of months. Lucrative, but rough. Enough that he's in desperate need of some serious downtime. He's got another job lined up after this one, but after, after, Eames is taking the sort of vacation he hasn't had in a good long while. The kind where he speaks to no one and sleeps all day and orders in.
Eames rubs at the corner of his eye and shakes his head in a vain attempt to shake off exhaustion. He glances up at Arthur only to find Arthur looking right back at him. It's happened a handful of times throughout the day. Eames hasn't minded.
Eames glances around the empty warehouse and then right back at Arthur.
Arthur smiles and it's a tired rueful thing, barely there at all. He shuts the file on his desk and circles it slowly. Eames watches as Arthur gets closer, swivels his chair around to face him when he leans against Eames' table.
"You getting anywhere with this?" Arthur asks, flipping idly through the pile of forgotten paperwork in front of Eames.
"Not especially," Eames says. It's a lie, actually. Eames was engrossed before Arthur came along. So much so that he hadn't noticed everyone else filtering out. No, that's a lie too. Eames vaguely remembers waving one or two of his fellow team members off.
"Hmm," Arthur says, fingers still sifting through pages, "looks pretty interesting."
"Not as interesting as other things," Eames says. The truth is, Eames is not as suave as his reputation implies, but it's amazing how far a little confidence and self awareness will propel said reputation.
Arthur grins again, wry and more than aware of Eames' shortcomings in the suave department. "Oh yeah?"
Eames runs a hand up the inside of Arthur's thigh. "Job? What job?"
Arthur shifts his weight on to the desk and spreads his legs, drawing Eames up with nothing but the suggestion of a grip on his arms, and oh, the places Eames will follow Arthur.
Eames leans into Arthur and kisses him hard, sucking air in through his nose, exhaustion forgotten.
Arthur groans and pushes him back a little before drawing him back in, softer this time but no less heated.
Eames hands are at Arthur's ears, his neck, his shoulders, squeezing and guiding Arthur back. Arthur sighs into his mouth, then tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
He wants Arthur in his mouth. Right now. Can't imagine how he's made it an entire day without thinking about this. Arthur thick and salty and pushing into him.
He manages to get Arthur's pants part way open before Arthur pushes him away again.
Eames moves back, only to have Arthur reel him in yet again, even wrap a leg around him to keep him close.
Eames looks at Arthur. "I'm getting some mixed signals here, Arthur," he says.
Arthur arches into him and manages to scoot even closer. Arthur's fingers scratching at the base of his skull are doing just as much for him as feeling Arthur hard at his stomach.
"Not here," Arthur says. "I want you to fuck me in a bed. I don't care whose."
Against all rational thought, Arthur manages to make it sound like the filthiest thing Eames has ever heard.
"Alright," Eames says. "Okay," as he tilts in to kiss him again. Eames wraps him up and Arthur sucks in a breath. Eames holds him tighter and Arthur bites out a curse.
"Just," Arthur starts, "just not. Fuck. Ow."
Eames is a rare and particular breed of bastard, he realizes. He's selfish and singleminded and unobservant as fuck, contrary to popular belief. He pushes Arthur's shirt up and touches lightly at the bruises high on Arthur's torso.
"How many?" Eames asks.
"How...what?"
"Broken ribs. How many?"
Arthur braces his hands on the table and slips off the edge. He has plenty of room to do it now that Eames has backed off so effectively.
"Two," he says.
Eames nods. "And not worth mentioning, of course."
"It's not that bad," Arthur says. "I can still...we can still. Come on, Eames."
"Does anyone know?"
"Jesus, Eames, seriously? This job is a fucking cake walk. It doesn't matter."
"That's clearly a no."
"Alright, fine, you caught me. I didn't mention the two week old broken ribs on the job that requires zero physical activity. Congratulations. Can we go now? You're an asshole, but I'd still like to have sex at some point in the near future."
Eames brushes his fingers over the place where Arthur is hurt. He looks at his hands.
"It's honestly not that bad," Arthur says, "hardly even hurts. Just when I breathe." He walks closer to Eames, smirking enough to dimple. "You can go easy on me, right?"
Eames hates that he's joking about this. "I hate that you're joking about this."
"I'm not joking," Arthur says. "You gonna take me to your hotel or what."
--
Eames doesn't fuck Arthur and Arthur doesn't fuck Eames.
Eames tells Arthur to stay still and goes down on him in the plush hotel bed. He licks at the underside of Arthur's dick and presses at the soft place behind his balls and lets Arthur's cock fill up his mouth until he gags on it, just like he wanted.
He's so hard from the pained sounds Arthur makes that he feels close to guilty, but Arthur clutches at his hair and tells him not to stop, so he doesn't; he just takes him down again and again.
"You're so," Arthur says. "Fuck you're good at that."
Arthur's breathless, close, and when he tries to sit up to see, it doesn't work out so well. Arthur moans and Eames can't tell if it hurts or if it feels good, but Eames' dick doesn't appear to mind either way.
He pulls off to push Arthur back down into the sheets. "Told you not to move."
Eames crawls up and lets Arthur see his mouth, lets Arthur touch at where the corners must be red. "Want to taste too?"
Arthur shuts his eyes and tilts his chin up, which is close enough to a yes.
Arthur licks at his lips, keeps it shallow, then deep, while Eames closes a hand around himself and lets the slick slide of Arthur's mouth carry him away. It's almost embarrassing how easy Arthur can make him come with a hand gripping hard on his hip and his tongue in his mouth.
Eames mouth goes a little slack, but Arthur's always been willing to wait for him.
Eames extracts himself when Arthur's sounds get less satisfied and more impatient. He sinks down to suck wet, bruising kisses onto Arthur's inner thighs and pulls lightly at his spit-wet cock until Arthur is incoherent, asking for harder, asking for his mouth, asking please please please.
Eames gives him what he wants.
--
Forgetting himself, Eames flops down carelessly next to Arthur.
"Sorry, sorry," he says, but Arthur only rolls into him and tells him to hush.
"I'm fine. Really. I'm not going to break."
"Of course not," Eames says. "Completely unbreakable. Except for those pesky ribs."
"You know what I meant."
Eames hums and Arthur scoffs, and that's as close to normal as they've been, so Eames concedes. He doesn't have to tell Arthur, though.
"What happened?" Eames asks.
Arthur closes his eyes and wriggles closer. "Same thing that always happens."
"What a forthcoming answer, Arthur. It's so tiresome, the way you always open up immediately and have no secrets. Try a little mystery every once in a while."
"You know, you don't exactly look well rested either," Arthur points out.
Eames smears his hand through the sweat and come low on Arthur's stomach. The sweat and come he has no intention of getting up to clean.
"Getting there," Eames says.
part 3
Author: cmonkatiekatie
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: sex
Word count: 1,400
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Notes: First part here! Um, these are not in numerical order. At all.
It's maybe their fifth job together, and things go mostly by rote now. Well, as rote as dream sharing can go.
(Really, the only easy part is their relationship. Or their nonrelationship. Eames can admit that not defining things does make it somewhat difficult to think through them clearly.)
The point is, Arthur and Eames, they have this thing down to a science. They get through a job, generally with as much ribbing and animosity as possible, and then, just when the tension is close to bubbling over, they fuck it out.
This job feels different, though. It's early, only a couple days in, and Arthur's been unusually quiet. There are dark shadows lurking under his eyes and his mouth is drawn up tight, just like his shoulders.
Eames is sure he can't look much better. He's had a rough couple of months. Lucrative, but rough. Enough that he's in desperate need of some serious downtime. He's got another job lined up after this one, but after, after, Eames is taking the sort of vacation he hasn't had in a good long while. The kind where he speaks to no one and sleeps all day and orders in.
Eames rubs at the corner of his eye and shakes his head in a vain attempt to shake off exhaustion. He glances up at Arthur only to find Arthur looking right back at him. It's happened a handful of times throughout the day. Eames hasn't minded.
Eames glances around the empty warehouse and then right back at Arthur.
Arthur smiles and it's a tired rueful thing, barely there at all. He shuts the file on his desk and circles it slowly. Eames watches as Arthur gets closer, swivels his chair around to face him when he leans against Eames' table.
"You getting anywhere with this?" Arthur asks, flipping idly through the pile of forgotten paperwork in front of Eames.
"Not especially," Eames says. It's a lie, actually. Eames was engrossed before Arthur came along. So much so that he hadn't noticed everyone else filtering out. No, that's a lie too. Eames vaguely remembers waving one or two of his fellow team members off.
"Hmm," Arthur says, fingers still sifting through pages, "looks pretty interesting."
"Not as interesting as other things," Eames says. The truth is, Eames is not as suave as his reputation implies, but it's amazing how far a little confidence and self awareness will propel said reputation.
Arthur grins again, wry and more than aware of Eames' shortcomings in the suave department. "Oh yeah?"
Eames runs a hand up the inside of Arthur's thigh. "Job? What job?"
Arthur shifts his weight on to the desk and spreads his legs, drawing Eames up with nothing but the suggestion of a grip on his arms, and oh, the places Eames will follow Arthur.
Eames leans into Arthur and kisses him hard, sucking air in through his nose, exhaustion forgotten.
Arthur groans and pushes him back a little before drawing him back in, softer this time but no less heated.
Eames hands are at Arthur's ears, his neck, his shoulders, squeezing and guiding Arthur back. Arthur sighs into his mouth, then tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
He wants Arthur in his mouth. Right now. Can't imagine how he's made it an entire day without thinking about this. Arthur thick and salty and pushing into him.
He manages to get Arthur's pants part way open before Arthur pushes him away again.
Eames moves back, only to have Arthur reel him in yet again, even wrap a leg around him to keep him close.
Eames looks at Arthur. "I'm getting some mixed signals here, Arthur," he says.
Arthur arches into him and manages to scoot even closer. Arthur's fingers scratching at the base of his skull are doing just as much for him as feeling Arthur hard at his stomach.
"Not here," Arthur says. "I want you to fuck me in a bed. I don't care whose."
Against all rational thought, Arthur manages to make it sound like the filthiest thing Eames has ever heard.
"Alright," Eames says. "Okay," as he tilts in to kiss him again. Eames wraps him up and Arthur sucks in a breath. Eames holds him tighter and Arthur bites out a curse.
"Just," Arthur starts, "just not. Fuck. Ow."
Eames is a rare and particular breed of bastard, he realizes. He's selfish and singleminded and unobservant as fuck, contrary to popular belief. He pushes Arthur's shirt up and touches lightly at the bruises high on Arthur's torso.
"How many?" Eames asks.
"How...what?"
"Broken ribs. How many?"
Arthur braces his hands on the table and slips off the edge. He has plenty of room to do it now that Eames has backed off so effectively.
"Two," he says.
Eames nods. "And not worth mentioning, of course."
"It's not that bad," Arthur says. "I can still...we can still. Come on, Eames."
"Does anyone know?"
"Jesus, Eames, seriously? This job is a fucking cake walk. It doesn't matter."
"That's clearly a no."
"Alright, fine, you caught me. I didn't mention the two week old broken ribs on the job that requires zero physical activity. Congratulations. Can we go now? You're an asshole, but I'd still like to have sex at some point in the near future."
Eames brushes his fingers over the place where Arthur is hurt. He looks at his hands.
"It's honestly not that bad," Arthur says, "hardly even hurts. Just when I breathe." He walks closer to Eames, smirking enough to dimple. "You can go easy on me, right?"
Eames hates that he's joking about this. "I hate that you're joking about this."
"I'm not joking," Arthur says. "You gonna take me to your hotel or what."
--
Eames doesn't fuck Arthur and Arthur doesn't fuck Eames.
Eames tells Arthur to stay still and goes down on him in the plush hotel bed. He licks at the underside of Arthur's dick and presses at the soft place behind his balls and lets Arthur's cock fill up his mouth until he gags on it, just like he wanted.
He's so hard from the pained sounds Arthur makes that he feels close to guilty, but Arthur clutches at his hair and tells him not to stop, so he doesn't; he just takes him down again and again.
"You're so," Arthur says. "Fuck you're good at that."
Arthur's breathless, close, and when he tries to sit up to see, it doesn't work out so well. Arthur moans and Eames can't tell if it hurts or if it feels good, but Eames' dick doesn't appear to mind either way.
He pulls off to push Arthur back down into the sheets. "Told you not to move."
Eames crawls up and lets Arthur see his mouth, lets Arthur touch at where the corners must be red. "Want to taste too?"
Arthur shuts his eyes and tilts his chin up, which is close enough to a yes.
Arthur licks at his lips, keeps it shallow, then deep, while Eames closes a hand around himself and lets the slick slide of Arthur's mouth carry him away. It's almost embarrassing how easy Arthur can make him come with a hand gripping hard on his hip and his tongue in his mouth.
Eames mouth goes a little slack, but Arthur's always been willing to wait for him.
Eames extracts himself when Arthur's sounds get less satisfied and more impatient. He sinks down to suck wet, bruising kisses onto Arthur's inner thighs and pulls lightly at his spit-wet cock until Arthur is incoherent, asking for harder, asking for his mouth, asking please please please.
Eames gives him what he wants.
--
Forgetting himself, Eames flops down carelessly next to Arthur.
"Sorry, sorry," he says, but Arthur only rolls into him and tells him to hush.
"I'm fine. Really. I'm not going to break."
"Of course not," Eames says. "Completely unbreakable. Except for those pesky ribs."
"You know what I meant."
Eames hums and Arthur scoffs, and that's as close to normal as they've been, so Eames concedes. He doesn't have to tell Arthur, though.
"What happened?" Eames asks.
Arthur closes his eyes and wriggles closer. "Same thing that always happens."
"What a forthcoming answer, Arthur. It's so tiresome, the way you always open up immediately and have no secrets. Try a little mystery every once in a while."
"You know, you don't exactly look well rested either," Arthur points out.
Eames smears his hand through the sweat and come low on Arthur's stomach. The sweat and come he has no intention of getting up to clean.
"Getting there," Eames says.
part 3