Fic: Holiday Filth
Holiday Filth
Wordcount: 1100
Wherein Arthur & Eames roleplay as a Roman slave & master in a dream. Can be seen as an extension of the "historical" ficlet here. Inspired by motetus' fantastic, NSFW art.
"I heard you tried to run away from your last master," Arthur says.
Eames doesn't look up from where he's kneeling on the floor. "As you can see, my attempt was not successful."
"Such insolence in a slave." Arthur takes a step forward to touch the soft hair of Eames' temple. "Although you are a handsome one, I'll give you that."
Eames finally looks up at Arthur through his lashes, playing the role with sultry insolence perfectly. He's stunning in the flickering lamplight, wearing nothing but a loincloth, muscular definition practically gleaming. "Wouldn't you prefer a spirited companion to one passive and meek?"
"Spirited? Rebellious, more like." Arthur trails his thumb down the line of Eames' nose to the bow of his red lips. "Your previous master was merciful and infatuated with you. But you should know that I am neither."
"My previous master was old and infirm. You are young, strong..." Eames' lips purse around the tip of Arthur's thumb, tongue flicking lightly. "Virile."
"Do you think I have need of slaves to warm my bed?" Arthur asks, heartbeat quickening as Eames begins to suckle at his finger. "I bought you to clean, cook and entertain my guests."
"I can clean and I can cook." Eames pulls off Arthur's thumb and licks at the tender skin between it and his index finger, eyes hooded. "Perhaps you'd like to sample what I can offer your--guests?"
"Presumptuous," Arthur says as he steps backward, settling onto the edge of the bed. "You have a very high opinion of yourself."
"It's not the place of a slave to desire anything." Eames crawls forward on his hands and knees, sliding without hesitation in between the spread of Arthur's legs. "But my wretched body cannot help but want."
"Your only pleasure should lie in fulfilling my desires," Arthur corrects as Eames noses along Arthur's knee, up the inside of his thigh. "Now stand and turn around."
Eames pauses and looks up at Arthur, visibly surprised. Arthur has to repeat the command before Eames obeys.
"I shouldn't have to say it twice," Arthur says as he pulls off Eames' loincloth and swats his firm, round ass. Eames startles, but says nothing as Arthur runs his hand over the curves. He slides a finger into the cleft, lets it catch lightly on the rim of Eames' hole and hears him exhale sharply.
"You'll do," Arthur says. "Face me."
Eames turns, his dick hard and jutting away from his body already. "What is your desire?"
"I want to fuck you." Arthur disrobes and leaves his toga to pool on the floor. "Prepare me with your mouth."
"Yes, master." Eames sinks to his knees, gaze more avaricious than docile. His hands slide up Arthur's legs to clasp his hips. Eames rests the head of Arthur's cock against his full bottom lip, and meets Arthur's eyes.
Arthur threads a hand through Eames' hair as he begins to suck. Arthur sinks into the wet heat, indolent and pleased, until Eames' right hand begins to glide northwards along Arthur's stomach.
Arthur yanks Eames' head back by the hair, off his cock. "Did I say you could touch me?"
Eames hand retreats immediately, sliding down to wrap around his own cock. "You make me wanton, master. I forget myself."
"And yet you are not apologetic," Arthur says, studying the curve of Eames' bared throat before giving his hair one more tug and releasing. "Enough. I want you on my cock."
"As you wish," Eames murmurs as he climbs on top of Arthur, all thick and gorgeous muscle. He eases himself down and sighs once he's fully seated, eyes slipping shut.
"You concern yourself too much with your own pleasure," Arthur says, resisting the urge to fuck up into that tight clutch of heat. "I expect you to move."
"My only pleasure lies in serving you," Eames replies, voice low and smoky as he opens his eyes once more. He is completely unrepentent as he begins to move, powerful thighs flexing as he grinds down against Arthur's cock.
Arthur pulls Eames' torso down towards him until they're chest to chest and wraps an arm around Eames' back. "Move faster, slave," he grits out as he digs his fingers into Eames' trapezius muscle.
Eames rides Arthur harder, increasing his pace now that he can brace himself with arms on either side of Arthur's body. It's hot and sweaty and fucking amazing--enough for Arthur to lose himself in it as Eames ignores Arthur's orders and licks up the side of his jaw, sucks his earlobe.
"Fuck," Arthur mutters as he sags back and Eames sits up, looking entirely too satisfied. "We're not done yet."
"I have heeded your every--"
"Come here." Arthur gestures for Eames to crawl closer. "I want you over my mouth."
"You..." Eames' eyes widen with dawning realization.
"I'm not going to repeat myself," Arthur says impatiently, as if he isn't already salivating at the prospect. "I'm going to eat you out, so keep your cock out of my face."
Eames knee-walks up to straddle Arthur's head. Arthur licks a line of come trickling down his inner thigh and feels Eames quiver and grab for the headboard. Arthur takes a deep inhale, savoring the musky smell of sex between Eames' legs, and blows gently against Eames' reddened hole.
When Arthur begins to lick at the rim, Eames lets out a raspy moan. Arthur reaches out to bring Eames closer and pushes his tongue inward, feeling Eames contract involuntarily around him before releasing again, allowing him in as come seeps out. It's beyond dirty, beyond hot--especially as Eames tenses like a bowstring above him.
Arthur licks everywhere: Eames' hole, his rim, his perineum, and the bottom of Eames' balls. Eames shudders and moans, quaking when Arthur finally returns to his hole and latches on to suck. "Master," Eames manages, "I--fuck, Arthur, oh fuck--"
Arthur continues to suck through Eames' orgasm, licking the last trace of come away as Eames collapses on top of him. Arthur extends the bed within the dream and angles Eames towards it so he can topple over, boneless.
"That was bloody filthy, Arthur." Eames' voice is low and breathless, tinged with faint admiration. He watches hazily as Arthur bends over to lick a stripe of Eames' come from his abdomen.
Arthur climbs on top of Eames and brushes a kiss against his plush lips. "Did you enjoy yourself, slave?"
"Entirely." Eames grins wolfishly as he kisses Arthur back. "We always have the best ideas."
fin
Poll Fic: Holiday Filth
Wordcount: 1100
Wherein Arthur & Eames roleplay as a Roman slave & master in a dream. Can be seen as an extension of the "historical" ficlet here. Inspired by motetus' fantastic, NSFW art.
"I heard you tried to run away from your last master," Arthur says.
Eames doesn't look up from where he's kneeling on the floor. "As you can see, my attempt was not successful."
"Such insolence in a slave." Arthur takes a step forward to touch the soft hair of Eames' temple. "Although you are a handsome one, I'll give you that."
Eames finally looks up at Arthur through his lashes, playing the role with sultry insolence perfectly. He's stunning in the flickering lamplight, wearing nothing but a loincloth, muscular definition practically gleaming. "Wouldn't you prefer a spirited companion to one passive and meek?"
"Spirited? Rebellious, more like." Arthur trails his thumb down the line of Eames' nose to the bow of his red lips. "Your previous master was merciful and infatuated with you. But you should know that I am neither."
"My previous master was old and infirm. You are young, strong..." Eames' lips purse around the tip of Arthur's thumb, tongue flicking lightly. "Virile."
"Do you think I have need of slaves to warm my bed?" Arthur asks, heartbeat quickening as Eames begins to suckle at his finger. "I bought you to clean, cook and entertain my guests."
"I can clean and I can cook." Eames pulls off Arthur's thumb and licks at the tender skin between it and his index finger, eyes hooded. "Perhaps you'd like to sample what I can offer your--guests?"
"Presumptuous," Arthur says as he steps backward, settling onto the edge of the bed. "You have a very high opinion of yourself."
"It's not the place of a slave to desire anything." Eames crawls forward on his hands and knees, sliding without hesitation in between the spread of Arthur's legs. "But my wretched body cannot help but want."
"Your only pleasure should lie in fulfilling my desires," Arthur corrects as Eames noses along Arthur's knee, up the inside of his thigh. "Now stand and turn around."
Eames pauses and looks up at Arthur, visibly surprised. Arthur has to repeat the command before Eames obeys.
"I shouldn't have to say it twice," Arthur says as he pulls off Eames' loincloth and swats his firm, round ass. Eames startles, but says nothing as Arthur runs his hand over the curves. He slides a finger into the cleft, lets it catch lightly on the rim of Eames' hole and hears him exhale sharply.
"You'll do," Arthur says. "Face me."
Eames turns, his dick hard and jutting away from his body already. "What is your desire?"
"I want to fuck you." Arthur disrobes and leaves his toga to pool on the floor. "Prepare me with your mouth."
"Yes, master." Eames sinks to his knees, gaze more avaricious than docile. His hands slide up Arthur's legs to clasp his hips. Eames rests the head of Arthur's cock against his full bottom lip, and meets Arthur's eyes.
Arthur threads a hand through Eames' hair as he begins to suck. Arthur sinks into the wet heat, indolent and pleased, until Eames' right hand begins to glide northwards along Arthur's stomach.
Arthur yanks Eames' head back by the hair, off his cock. "Did I say you could touch me?"
Eames hand retreats immediately, sliding down to wrap around his own cock. "You make me wanton, master. I forget myself."
"And yet you are not apologetic," Arthur says, studying the curve of Eames' bared throat before giving his hair one more tug and releasing. "Enough. I want you on my cock."
"As you wish," Eames murmurs as he climbs on top of Arthur, all thick and gorgeous muscle. He eases himself down and sighs once he's fully seated, eyes slipping shut.
"You concern yourself too much with your own pleasure," Arthur says, resisting the urge to fuck up into that tight clutch of heat. "I expect you to move."
"My only pleasure lies in serving you," Eames replies, voice low and smoky as he opens his eyes once more. He is completely unrepentent as he begins to move, powerful thighs flexing as he grinds down against Arthur's cock.
Arthur pulls Eames' torso down towards him until they're chest to chest and wraps an arm around Eames' back. "Move faster, slave," he grits out as he digs his fingers into Eames' trapezius muscle.
Eames rides Arthur harder, increasing his pace now that he can brace himself with arms on either side of Arthur's body. It's hot and sweaty and fucking amazing--enough for Arthur to lose himself in it as Eames ignores Arthur's orders and licks up the side of his jaw, sucks his earlobe.
"Fuck," Arthur mutters as he sags back and Eames sits up, looking entirely too satisfied. "We're not done yet."
"I have heeded your every--"
"Come here." Arthur gestures for Eames to crawl closer. "I want you over my mouth."
"You..." Eames' eyes widen with dawning realization.
"I'm not going to repeat myself," Arthur says impatiently, as if he isn't already salivating at the prospect. "I'm going to eat you out, so keep your cock out of my face."
Eames knee-walks up to straddle Arthur's head. Arthur licks a line of come trickling down his inner thigh and feels Eames quiver and grab for the headboard. Arthur takes a deep inhale, savoring the musky smell of sex between Eames' legs, and blows gently against Eames' reddened hole.
When Arthur begins to lick at the rim, Eames lets out a raspy moan. Arthur reaches out to bring Eames closer and pushes his tongue inward, feeling Eames contract involuntarily around him before releasing again, allowing him in as come seeps out. It's beyond dirty, beyond hot--especially as Eames tenses like a bowstring above him.
Arthur licks everywhere: Eames' hole, his rim, his perineum, and the bottom of Eames' balls. Eames shudders and moans, quaking when Arthur finally returns to his hole and latches on to suck. "Master," Eames manages, "I--fuck, Arthur, oh fuck--"
Arthur continues to suck through Eames' orgasm, licking the last trace of come away as Eames collapses on top of him. Arthur extends the bed within the dream and angles Eames towards it so he can topple over, boneless.
"That was bloody filthy, Arthur." Eames' voice is low and breathless, tinged with faint admiration. He watches hazily as Arthur bends over to lick a stripe of Eames' come from his abdomen.
Arthur climbs on top of Eames and brushes a kiss against his plush lips. "Did you enjoy yourself, slave?"
"Entirely." Eames grins wolfishly as he kisses Arthur back. "We always have the best ideas."
fin
Poll Fic: Holiday Filth