Fic: Deflowerer

[bauble]

Deflowerer
Wordcount: 2800
An ficlet I started a while back and finished for motetus

Eames' apartment isn't what Arthur was expecting.

Then again, his original expectation for the night involved a hotel room and alcohol-fueled sex. So being led to an apartment in a quiet, residential neighborhood should have probably tipped him off that abandoning all expectations was in order.

Eames offers Arthur a drink and takes him on a brief tour, pointing out the bathroom, the kitchen, the crown molding on the bedroom ceiling. Arthur nods dutifully, wondering how Eames' ass is going to look once he takes off his pants. Incredible, probably.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to try something with me," Eames says fidgeting with the empty wineglass he's holding.

"Sure," Arthur says, and if he didn't know better, he'd suspect Eames was nervous. Luckily, he knows better, having witnessed Eames seduce countless marks, go skinnydipping without reserve at least three times, and, most memorably, have loud sex with two women in a bathroom stall. Eames practically oozes unrestrained sexuality.

Hopefully, what Eames wants to 'try' is something only mildly weird that will allow Arthur to get off relatively quickly. A foot fetish or light crossdressing would be ideal. Mummification or erotic asphyxiation would be less ideal.

"Are you--do you prefer to--" Eames smooths down Arthur's tie. "That is to say, do you like to--top?"

"I love topping," Arthur says, undoing the button of his jacket to allow Eames' hand greater access across his chest. "You want to go with that for tonight?"

"Yes." Eames' hand roves, pausing just above the growing bulge at Arthur's groin. "That's--yes."

One of the things Arthur likes most about having casual sex with men is how easy it is to get down to business. He slips out of his shoes as he undresses Eames, encouraging him backwards towards the bed. It's not that he dislikes foreplay, but he's never found it particularly enjoyable with anyone he's not dating. Why bother with pretenses when it's just one night? Not that Eames is exactly the typical one night stand--but who knows, at this point. It's possible Arthur hasn't thought this all the way through.

When they're both naked, Eames lies back, head cradled by pillows, while Arthur kneels over him. "Do you have lube?" Arthur asks as he gives himself a few jerks, cock warming to the sight of Eames spread out before him.

Eames is muscular, covered in tattoos, and probably one of the hottest guys Arthur's ever had the pleasure of seeing naked up close. Arthur hopes that having sex won't negatively affect their professional relationship since Eames is also the best forger (and thief) in the business, but. Well. It'll definitely be worth it, regardless.

"Yes," Eames says after a pause, sounding a little dazed. He fumbles a bottle off the nightstand and tosses it to Arthur.

Arthur rips the freshness seal off the top and hears the crinkle of a condom packet landing on the sheets near his thigh. He rolls the condom down over his cock and then squeezes lube liberally over it. "Do you want to...?" Arthur holds out the bottle but Eames makes no reply, staring at Arthur's dick with lips slightly parted.

And there's a jerkoff image for the ages if there ever was one. Arthur hopes that sometime later this evening--or maybe in the morning--there's a second round in which Eames fulfills the promise of that fantasy. Maybe they could even have a collegial breakfast together, after. They've had breakfast together before. It doesn't need to be weird.

"It'll be easier if you turn over," Arthur says, partially because if he's going to be the one to slick Eames, it's true. But mostly, he wants to see Eames' ass in the air.

Eames turns obligingly, but lies down on his front rather than getting onto his hands and knees. His ass is round and high--as gorgeous as Arthur could have ever dreamed.

Arthur bends down to drop a kiss to one of Eames' cheeks and nearly moans with how smooth and firm it feels. He kisses the other cheek for fairness' sake and adds a slight drag of teeth along that incredible curve, Eames tensing beneath him.

Arthur gets his knees in between Eames' legs, encouraging him to spread. The sight is enough to make Arthur's blood pound; he's going to come so damn hard tonight, even if all Eames does is lie there.

Arthur circles Eames' hole with a lube-slicked finger and tests the edge; there's no give whatsoever. He presses against the sphincter gently and makes no headway inwards. It's impressive. "Damn, Eames, you are tight."

On the one hand, the prospect of getting his dick inside something so tight is pretty damn exciting. On the other hand, the ability of his dick to actually get inside may be in question if Eames doesn't relax significantly.

"I don't finger myself when I jerk off," Eames says. It seems like an odd fact to volunteer, but Arthur doesn't mind the mental image that gives him. Eames stroking himself in the shower, playing with his balls and shooting all over the bathroom walls--fuck yeah. Maybe something Eames can show him later during their second round. Third round. Whatever.

Arthur pushes a bit harder against the ring of muscle but it refuses to give way. "Eames, you're gonna need to relax."

"I'm trying," Eames says, his ass seeming to clench up even further.

Internally, Arthur sighs a little. It's not the first time a guy he's been with has spooked. Arthur's cock isn't exactly small when fully erect and sometimes the surprise can lead to apprehension. Normally he'd recommend they do something else--blowjobs, handjobs--and call it a night. But another glance at Eames' luscious ass makes Arthur motivated to keep trying.

"How about I blow and finger you for a little bit?" Arthur offers, stroking the inside of Eames' thigh.

"I--alright," Eames says, almost hesitant as he flips onto his back.

Eames' cock is mostly soft as Arthur licks it, takes it into his mouth. He sucks efficiently, tongues under the head and deepthroats--earning a startled gasp from Eames. It's a nice party trick he picked up one summer when he lived down the road from a banana plantation. Men seem to enjoy it, anyway.

With one hand Arthur massages Eames' balls, his other hand moving backwards to stroke the perineum and then over the hole. It's much easier to press inwards as Eames sucks in huge, gasping breaths, seeming nearly overwhelmed by Arthur's onslaught.

"Arthur, I'm going to--" Eames blinks hazily when Arthur pulls off his cock, hands remaining to play with his balls and hole. "You are bloody good at that."

"Thanks," Arthur says, eager to proceed. "How's this feel?" He's waggles the fingertip he has inside Eames.

"Strange. I've--" Eames breaks off with a startled cry, back arching off the mattress, and it appears that Arthur's found his prostate.

It gets marginally easier to work his finger inside as Eames writhes and lets out short, startled cries that make Arthur's cock twitch with longing. By the time he gets to two fingers, Eames is sweatsoaked and panting, hips bucking with every stroke.

"Sensitive, huh?" Arthur asks, mostly rhetorical as he watches Eames' body twist up.

"I never thought it'd be like this," Eames says, voice hoarse already. "I never thought this could make me feel--fuck."

The way Eames talks--Arthur pushes the thought away. People say all kinds of stupid shit when they're hard. No point reading into it.

"Get on your hands and knees," Arthur says, noting with satisfaction that Eames is fully erect and leaking precome.

He wants to go hard, to give Eames a pounding he'll remember for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, reality is determined to foil all of Arthur's ambitions since the slide in with his dick is still excruciatingly slow despite the additional warm-up. Eames feels amazing, tight and hot in a way Arthur hasn't felt since he was sixteen and fooling around with his first guy.

Arthur presses forward half an inch then waits, presses forward again. At the rate they're going, he might nut before he even gets all the way in.

"Fuck, that's good," Arthur sighs when he finally bottoms out. It's still insanely tight--almost uncomfortably so--but at least he's finally in. Time to get the party going. Beneath him, Eames isn't saying much.

"Oh, right," Arthur says, reaching around to pat Eames' abdomen until he locates his cock. It's softened again. "You want me to start off slow and ease into it?"

"I--" Eames takes a deep breath. "If I could have a moment."

"Sure." Arthur begins jerking Eames off at a lazy pace. Arthur could use a minute to cool down, anyway. Help him last longer. Appreciate the sight of Eames' gorgeous ass stuffed full of cock longer.

"I don't think I can stay in this position," Eames says. "My wrists are already beginning to ache."

"Oh." Arthur releases Eames' half-hard cock and reluctantly pulls out. "Do you want to--lie back, then?"

"Yeah." Eames rolls and sprawls out, spread-eagled on his back. There's something strange and tight in his expression.

"Is, uh." Arthur eyes Eames' mostly flaccid dick. "Do you need another moment?"

"I suppose that might help," Eames says, but doesn't sound particularly enthusiastic about it.

Arthur shuffles back to give Eames some room and waits, scratching his crotch idly. The edge of the condom is tugging uncomfortably at some of his pubic hair. He might need more lube.

A minute passes and Arthur clears his throat. "Is, uh--everything all good?"

"This isn't how I was expecting things to go," Eames says, seemingly half to himself. "I wasn't expecting a dick of this size for my first time."

Arthur feels a swell of warm pride at the first part of that statement before the latter half sinks in, causing all the thoughts whizzing through in his mind to come to a halt. "Wait," Arthur says. "Did you say--first time?"

"I've been fingered by others before, of course, and I thought this might be merely a more sustained extension of that. But it's proven not--quite to be."

Arthur's mind is still fixated on that concept of a 'first time' with mounting horror. "So you've never done this before. And you've never fingered yourself."

"No."

"How about a toy. A butt plug. A dildo?" Eames shakes his head at all of these. "Nothing besides someone else's fingers?"

"Finger. Singular."

"Wow, okay. This is." Arthur scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck. Jesus. Jesus Christ fuck."

"I thought you knew," Eames says. "Earlier at the bar, when I'd told you about my limited experience with men--"

"You didn't say how limited--"

"I should have thought that their being brief encounters in bathroom stalls would make it obvious--"

"You can get up to a hell of a lot in a bathroom stall--"

"Well I didn't want to--" Eames turns his face away, halfway into the pillow. "I didn't want my first time to be like that. In some wretched stall with a stranger."

Arthur blinks, not sure of what he's hearing. The last person he'd ever suspect to be sentimental about sex is Eames. "I'm not a stranger," Arthur says, kind of stupidly.

"Yes, I know." Eames eyes Arthur. "We haven't even kissed since we got onto the bed."

"Did you want to kiss?"

"A bit, yes," Eames says. "Who doesn't want to kiss when they're having sex?"

"Well, it's not like we're--" Arthur doesn't know how to finish that sentence.

Eames seems genuinely taken aback by that, though a solid poker face descends almost immediately. "No, yes, of course. Quite right."

"Did you--" Arthur squints at Eames. "Was tonight supposed to be a date?"

"I--" Eames' face is perfectly composed, but he can't mask how flustered he is in his voice. "Of course not. We merely--"

"That was a date?" Arthur runs back his mental reel of the evening. Eames calling him out of the blue, asking if he wanted to meet up for a few rounds at a shooting range. Eames coming by to drive Arthur to the range, oddly dressed up. Eames, suggesting a round of drinks afterwards, paying the bill, bringing him back to an apartment that might not even be a pre-furnished rental. "You invited me to a shooting range."

"Well, I didn't think dinner would be terribly original and you mentioned hating all the movies that are currently out in theaters," Eames says, sounding defensive.

Arthur sighs heavily and flops onto the bed beside Eames. "That was a date."

"What did you think it was?"

"I don't know. Networking. Hanging out. You getting drunk." Arthur shrugs. "I didn't realize it'd be this whole. Thing."

"Now I feel ridiculous," Eames says. He's staring up at the ceiling.

Arthur stares up at the ceiling with him. "You really wanted to lose your viriginity to me after our first date?"

"I am not a virgin--"

"Ass-virginity. Whatever."

"Arthur," Eames groans, covering his face with his hands. He sounds like he's laughing slightly, in spite of himself.

"It's kind of an honor. I haven't been asked to deflower someone in a long time--"

"This was a mistake. I take it back." Eames attempts to roll off the bed but Arthur catches him by the waist before he can.

"You can't take it back. I already got in there," Arthur says against Eames' neck, pressing up against his back. "You've been officially deflowered."

"Please stop saying deflowered," Eames says, but doesn't try to escape Arthur's hold.

"Devirginized." Arthur lays a few kisses along Eames' shoulder. "Cherry popped. Ravished--"

"You are an utterly ridiculous man," Eames says as he turns to catch Arthur's lips with his. They are gorgeous lips, plush and softer than they first appear.

"Ridiculously hung, you mean," Arthur says, just to see Eames smile again.

They kiss a while, making out while they explore each others' bodies at a leisurely pace. It's not so bad, Arthur thinks. He could maybe get used to this.

Before long, they're both hard again, rubbing up against each other. "Arthur," Eames murmurs, breathy and hot as his ankle snakes around Arthur's leg.

"You want this?" Arthur asks as he slides two fingers along the rim of Eames' hole.

"Yeah," Eames sighs, spreading his legs wide open.

Arthur grabs a fresh condom and more lube, taking more care as he opens Eames up. Eames interrupts several times by pulling Arthur in for open-mouthed kisses. Arthur doesn't complain.

When Arthur finally sinks his cock in, Eames is still tight but no longer painfully so. Arthur gentles Eames through it, drops butterfly kisses across his furrowed brow and tensed jaw until they relax, release.

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asks, searching Eames' eyes for pain. This close, he can see the astonishing mosaic of colors he'd failed to notice before.

"It's somewhat uncomfortable. Rather--full," Eames replies. "Not painful, though."

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Arthur says, because it's true and he never thought he'd have the opportunity to say it. "You're really--fuck."

"I'm already here, Arthur. No more need for flattery or wooing," Eames says, but he's smiling, faintly pink.

"I expect you to keep wooing me in the morning," Arthur says, grinding his hips in a small circle, gratified to hear Eames' gasp. "A hot breakfast. The newspaper."

"I have cold cereal and a dirty magazine," Eames replies, legs coming up to wrap around Arthur's waist.

"Good enough." Arthur begins to thrust shallowly, small jabs that make Eames moan. "What is it--Playboy?"

"Penthouse," Eames corrects, breathing irregular now. "I subscribe for the nudity."

"Fuck yeah." Arthur picks up speed, adjusting his angle based on Eames' every reaction, his every pleasure-hoarse breath. He works a hand between their bodies to clutch at Eames' cock, which is hard and leaking against both their stomachs.

"Yes, like that," Eames whispers, fingers digging into Arthur's back as he arches and comes. Arthur fucks him through it, staving off his orgasm with barely a knife's edge of control as Eames squeezes and writhes on his dick.

When Eames finally slumps back, Arthur kisses his sweaty upper lip and says, "Good?"

"Bloody excellent," Eames replies, his consonants drawling. He puts a palm on Arthur's ass, encouraging him to thrust harder and faster. "Come now. You deserve it."

Arthur does, groaning against Eames' throat, nose bumping against Eames' chin as their mouths meet for a kiss.

"Well done," Eames says, petting Arthur's sweaty hair as he collapses on top of Eames, wrung out.

"I'm glad," Arthur murmurs as his eyes drift shut. "It was my first deflowering."

"And you were my first date with a man," Eames says. "We both found our way, eventually."

fin

Poll Deflowerer