Fic: My Funny Valentine
My Funny Valentine
Written in honor of Valentine's Day & inspired by marourin's gorgeous art.
Wordcount: 1900
Arthur had been one hundred percent sure that sleeping with Eames would be an ill-conceived, one-night-only affair. Hell, the way Eames was built--with those cocksucking lips and fuckoff ugly tattoos and barrel-chest-practically screamed slash and burn.
And yet, here they are at a Michelin-starred restaurant on Valentine's Day, with a reservation Arthur had to book a year in advance. This is not what he thought he was signing up for.
"You mentioned you had something to show me?" Eames says, finishing the last of the Cabernet he'd selected off the wine list. How Arthur ended up spending three years with someone pretentious enough to discuss wine vintages with the sommelier is a mystery.
"Yeah." Arthur sighs as he takes the last swallow of red in his own glass. It truly was excellent, is the worst part. "I can show you now or I can show you back at home."
Eames raises an eyebrow. "You brought it with you?"
"Not exactly." Arthur settles the bill and stands. "Come on. I gotta use the bathroom."
They enter the restroom, which is tastefully low-lit and smells of lemongrass. There are three fully enclosed stalls with doors, the largest of which Arthur goes in to. Eames waits outside a moment, politely, and Arthur has to gesture for him to follow.
"In here, really?" Eames sounds more amused than erotically charged as Arthur locks the stall door behind him. "I might be getting a bit too old for blowjobs in the…"
Eames goes gratifyingly silent and slack-jawed as Arthur rolls one trouser leg up, a bit of the dark stocking mesh peeking through. Arthur pauses and says, "Would you like me to keep going?"
"Darling." Eames drops to his knees and wraps one careful hand around Arthur's ankle, almost delicately. He presses his nose to Arthur's calf as more of the black stockings are revealed, nuzzling. "Darling, you did. I wasn't sure you would."
"You asked," Arthur says, feeling both indulgent and vaguely self-conscious as he drags his pant leg up to his knee.
"And you listened. For once." Eames lays a line of kisses along Arthur's shin, ignoring Arthur's frown.
"I listen," Arthur says, leaning back against a wall for support as Eames noses up his inner thigh. "I'm a great fucking listener."
"Mm," is Eames' only reply as he works open Arthur's fly. He hums with appreciation at the black lacy panties he discovers. "Have you been wearing these all night?"
"Yes," Arthur says. "I hope you appreciate how uncomfortable this whole getup was. I had to eat a five-course dinner with several inches of fabric migrating up my ass crack."
"I could listen to your sweet, honeyed words all night." Eames eases the panties down. Arthur suspects Eames is mocking him, but he also seems on the way to sucking his dick, so Arthur decides to allow it.
One thing that did live up to its promise is Eames' mouth. Arthur weaves his fingers into Eames' hair, utterly entranced by the sight. After three years, he knows exactly what Arthur likes, and it feels even better than it looks, though not by much.
"That's good, baby," Arthur murmurs, a small warning before he thrusts forward. Eames moans appreciatively as Arthur takes over, hips setting a faster rhythm while Arthur holds Eames' head immobile.
The bathroom door creaks open and someone else enters the room. Arthur wonders if they can hear them, can hear the wet impact of flesh on flesh, the way Eames is gagging for his cock. Eames doesn't seem to care-if anything, it he sucks more eagerly.
"I'm gonna come down your throat," Arthur pants, low and harsh.
Eames doesn't pull off to reply, but grips Arthur's hips tighter in assent, and that's all Arthur needs to let go. He stutters forward, wildly, and comes.
Arthur opens his eyes to Eames sitting back, wiping his reddened mouth lazily. In the stall next to them, a toilet flushes.
Eames stands and kisses Arthur, waiting for the sink to finish running and the bathroom door to creak shut again before speaking. "If you continue to be this loud, they're going to toss us out before I can finish fucking you."
Arthur shrugs one shoulder as he turns to face the wall, feeling satisfied and loose-limbed. "Better hurry up then."
Eames takes the words to heart, getting Arthur slicked and ready without hesitation. Eames is hard and huge inside Arthur, breath unsteady in the way that means he won't last long. Nothing gets Eames going like some rough handling, even if his own treatment of Arthur during sex veers towards the tender, romantic side. As romantic as fucking someone against a bathroom wall can be, at any rate.
Eames covers Arthur's hands with his and laces their fingers together. He kisses the back of Arthur's neck in between low mumbles of, "You feel wonderful, marvelous, darling. You don't know how gorgeous you look with those stocking legs and black panties, I could suck and eat you out for days, I really could."
Arthur inhales deeply and squeezes Eames' hands in return, enjoying the rocking of Eames' dick inside him, the too-hot press of Eames' still-clothed chest against his back, the warmth of Eames' breath in his ear. When Eames comes, it's with a gentle thrust and happy sigh.
Arthur endures Eames' cuddling for a few minutes before moving to free himself. "Let's go home," Arthur says as he gingerly slides the panties and his trousers back on. "You can nap in the car, but the night's not over yet."
"Have you been practicing your knots?" Eames asks agreeably while he tosses the condom and buttons his own pants.
"Among other things."
* * * * *
Arthur wasn't kidding about practicing. Walking in high heels is no joke, and he gave up on any goal more ambitious than 'enter the bedroom without faceplanting' fairly early on.
He congratulates himself on successfully walking into the bedroom while remaining upright and stops at what he finds: Eames, naked in bed, totally distracted by his cell phone.
"Are you serious?" Arthur says.
"Arthur!" Eames shoves his phone onto the nightstand guiltily. "You were taking a while."
"You missed my entrance," Arthur says, trying not to feel petulant and failing. All this work: putting on stockings, clipping on garters, shoving feet into uncomfortable shoes-and for what?
"I apologize. You look magnificent and it would be my pleasure to watch you walk away and back again." Eames leans forward with a worried expression and the worst part of it is, he's totally in earnest. Arthur never would have suspected sly, smirking Eames capable of earnest.
"No, I-" Arthur's irritation deflates as he approaches the bed and is confronted with the whole of Eames' gorgeous body. "Do you have the rope?"
"I do," Eames says, presenting the thin red cord. "Perhaps I deserve some sort of-punishment for my distraction?" The words are said almost casually, while Eames glances off to the side, expression blank.
Arthur regards him thoughtfully, because after all these years, this is still one thing Eames has difficulty asking for. "Off the bed."
Eames slides gracefully onto the floor, presenting his arms in front of him. Arthur loops the rope around Eames' arms, knots it loosely, and leaves the ends dragging down to the floor. Arthur sits on the edge of the mattress and taps his thigh twice.
Eames crawls over Arthur's lap until he's in position, beautiful ass on display. Arthur doesn't say anything before lifting his hand up and bringing it down with a loud slap.
Eames jumps beneath Arthur, shifts and fidgets as Arthur continues to strike without warning or mercy. When they first started, he used to go light, taps that were more visual than felt. But over time he came to realize that wasn't what Eames really wanted.
Now he puts his entire arm into it, stinging blows that make Arthur's skin tingle with every hit. Eames gasps and shudders beneath him, erection growing as the curves of his ass go pink and sensitive.
Eames shivers as Arthur drags a fingertip over the flushed skin, hisses when Arthur digs in with a thumbnail. The tip of Eames' cock smears precome along Arthur's leg.
Eames whimpers as Arthur sets him down on the ground. He stares up, glassy-eyed, as Arthur binds his legs together.
Arthur settles on top of Eames' chest and pushes the panties to one side, idly stroking his cock. "I'm going to feed you my cock and you're going to come like that," Arthur says, conversationally. "If you fight the bonds, I'm going to leave."
Arthur pauses, watching Eames' face carefully and waiting for the safeword. "I won't fight."
"Good boy," Arthur says, rewarding Eames with the tip of Arthur's cock. Eames opens his mouth but can't quite reach, trying hard with fluttering licks of his tongue. Arthur smiles approvingly and sits forward a bit more, allowing Eames' lips to close around the head.
Eames maintains eye contact as Arthur gradually feeds him cock. Eames licks and sucks as much as he can, unable to do anything besides take what Arthur gives him. This is a side of Eames Arthur never expected to see, never expected to know, back when he first asked Eames out for a drink.
"Is this what you want?" Arthur asks, guiding his cock up to allow Eames to speak.
"Yes," Eames says, quietly. "You're what I want."
It's too much, Arthur thinks as he stoppers up Eames' mouth once more. He feels foolish and fond not close enough to coming. The last situation is remedied easily enough as Eames applies his considerable skill, staring up at Arthur all the while.
"I don't know how you've done this to me," Arthur whispers as he strokes Eames' cheek, the line of his nose. "Three years and I still-I can't imagine my life without-"
Eames leans into Arthur's touch, unselfconscious and unafraid.
Orgasm comes in a cresting wave, so gradual Arthur doesn't notice it approaching until Eames pulls off and closes his eyes. Arthur feels a damp splatter of come across his lower back and sits up, takes his cock in hand and finishes across Eames' beautiful, impossible face.
Afterwards, Arthur goes to clean off and to get a damp towel. He returns to find Eames slipping free from the rope, yawning and stretching.
Arthur pets Eames clean, tucks him under the covers. Eames smiles, waiting patiently for Arthur to kick off his shoes and strip. Arthur crawls in beside him and accepts a kiss, familiar and chaste.
"Does it still hurt?" Arthur asks, rubbing a thumb along the small of Eames' back, above the swell of his ass.
"Yes," Eames says, almost feline in his contentment. "Well done."
"If you want me to go lighter…"
"I don't. I like it this way," Eames says simply. Arthur doesn't understand, exactly, and maybe never will, but it makes Eames happy and that's enough. "Thank you for a lovely Valentine's Day. We can do blowjobs and beer next year, I promise."
"That sounds awesome," Arthur says, thinking about how easily Eames freed himself from the ties. No matter how good Arthur gets at knots, the only thing ever holding Eames is his desire to be held.
fin
Poll Fic: My Funny Valentine
Written in honor of Valentine's Day & inspired by marourin's gorgeous art.
Wordcount: 1900
Arthur had been one hundred percent sure that sleeping with Eames would be an ill-conceived, one-night-only affair. Hell, the way Eames was built--with those cocksucking lips and fuckoff ugly tattoos and barrel-chest-practically screamed slash and burn.
And yet, here they are at a Michelin-starred restaurant on Valentine's Day, with a reservation Arthur had to book a year in advance. This is not what he thought he was signing up for.
"You mentioned you had something to show me?" Eames says, finishing the last of the Cabernet he'd selected off the wine list. How Arthur ended up spending three years with someone pretentious enough to discuss wine vintages with the sommelier is a mystery.
"Yeah." Arthur sighs as he takes the last swallow of red in his own glass. It truly was excellent, is the worst part. "I can show you now or I can show you back at home."
Eames raises an eyebrow. "You brought it with you?"
"Not exactly." Arthur settles the bill and stands. "Come on. I gotta use the bathroom."
They enter the restroom, which is tastefully low-lit and smells of lemongrass. There are three fully enclosed stalls with doors, the largest of which Arthur goes in to. Eames waits outside a moment, politely, and Arthur has to gesture for him to follow.
"In here, really?" Eames sounds more amused than erotically charged as Arthur locks the stall door behind him. "I might be getting a bit too old for blowjobs in the…"
Eames goes gratifyingly silent and slack-jawed as Arthur rolls one trouser leg up, a bit of the dark stocking mesh peeking through. Arthur pauses and says, "Would you like me to keep going?"
"Darling." Eames drops to his knees and wraps one careful hand around Arthur's ankle, almost delicately. He presses his nose to Arthur's calf as more of the black stockings are revealed, nuzzling. "Darling, you did. I wasn't sure you would."
"You asked," Arthur says, feeling both indulgent and vaguely self-conscious as he drags his pant leg up to his knee.
"And you listened. For once." Eames lays a line of kisses along Arthur's shin, ignoring Arthur's frown.
"I listen," Arthur says, leaning back against a wall for support as Eames noses up his inner thigh. "I'm a great fucking listener."
"Mm," is Eames' only reply as he works open Arthur's fly. He hums with appreciation at the black lacy panties he discovers. "Have you been wearing these all night?"
"Yes," Arthur says. "I hope you appreciate how uncomfortable this whole getup was. I had to eat a five-course dinner with several inches of fabric migrating up my ass crack."
"I could listen to your sweet, honeyed words all night." Eames eases the panties down. Arthur suspects Eames is mocking him, but he also seems on the way to sucking his dick, so Arthur decides to allow it.
One thing that did live up to its promise is Eames' mouth. Arthur weaves his fingers into Eames' hair, utterly entranced by the sight. After three years, he knows exactly what Arthur likes, and it feels even better than it looks, though not by much.
"That's good, baby," Arthur murmurs, a small warning before he thrusts forward. Eames moans appreciatively as Arthur takes over, hips setting a faster rhythm while Arthur holds Eames' head immobile.
The bathroom door creaks open and someone else enters the room. Arthur wonders if they can hear them, can hear the wet impact of flesh on flesh, the way Eames is gagging for his cock. Eames doesn't seem to care-if anything, it he sucks more eagerly.
"I'm gonna come down your throat," Arthur pants, low and harsh.
Eames doesn't pull off to reply, but grips Arthur's hips tighter in assent, and that's all Arthur needs to let go. He stutters forward, wildly, and comes.
Arthur opens his eyes to Eames sitting back, wiping his reddened mouth lazily. In the stall next to them, a toilet flushes.
Eames stands and kisses Arthur, waiting for the sink to finish running and the bathroom door to creak shut again before speaking. "If you continue to be this loud, they're going to toss us out before I can finish fucking you."
Arthur shrugs one shoulder as he turns to face the wall, feeling satisfied and loose-limbed. "Better hurry up then."
Eames takes the words to heart, getting Arthur slicked and ready without hesitation. Eames is hard and huge inside Arthur, breath unsteady in the way that means he won't last long. Nothing gets Eames going like some rough handling, even if his own treatment of Arthur during sex veers towards the tender, romantic side. As romantic as fucking someone against a bathroom wall can be, at any rate.
Eames covers Arthur's hands with his and laces their fingers together. He kisses the back of Arthur's neck in between low mumbles of, "You feel wonderful, marvelous, darling. You don't know how gorgeous you look with those stocking legs and black panties, I could suck and eat you out for days, I really could."
Arthur inhales deeply and squeezes Eames' hands in return, enjoying the rocking of Eames' dick inside him, the too-hot press of Eames' still-clothed chest against his back, the warmth of Eames' breath in his ear. When Eames comes, it's with a gentle thrust and happy sigh.
Arthur endures Eames' cuddling for a few minutes before moving to free himself. "Let's go home," Arthur says as he gingerly slides the panties and his trousers back on. "You can nap in the car, but the night's not over yet."
"Have you been practicing your knots?" Eames asks agreeably while he tosses the condom and buttons his own pants.
"Among other things."
* * * * *
Arthur wasn't kidding about practicing. Walking in high heels is no joke, and he gave up on any goal more ambitious than 'enter the bedroom without faceplanting' fairly early on.
He congratulates himself on successfully walking into the bedroom while remaining upright and stops at what he finds: Eames, naked in bed, totally distracted by his cell phone.
"Are you serious?" Arthur says.
"Arthur!" Eames shoves his phone onto the nightstand guiltily. "You were taking a while."
"You missed my entrance," Arthur says, trying not to feel petulant and failing. All this work: putting on stockings, clipping on garters, shoving feet into uncomfortable shoes-and for what?
"I apologize. You look magnificent and it would be my pleasure to watch you walk away and back again." Eames leans forward with a worried expression and the worst part of it is, he's totally in earnest. Arthur never would have suspected sly, smirking Eames capable of earnest.
"No, I-" Arthur's irritation deflates as he approaches the bed and is confronted with the whole of Eames' gorgeous body. "Do you have the rope?"
"I do," Eames says, presenting the thin red cord. "Perhaps I deserve some sort of-punishment for my distraction?" The words are said almost casually, while Eames glances off to the side, expression blank.
Arthur regards him thoughtfully, because after all these years, this is still one thing Eames has difficulty asking for. "Off the bed."
Eames slides gracefully onto the floor, presenting his arms in front of him. Arthur loops the rope around Eames' arms, knots it loosely, and leaves the ends dragging down to the floor. Arthur sits on the edge of the mattress and taps his thigh twice.
Eames crawls over Arthur's lap until he's in position, beautiful ass on display. Arthur doesn't say anything before lifting his hand up and bringing it down with a loud slap.
Eames jumps beneath Arthur, shifts and fidgets as Arthur continues to strike without warning or mercy. When they first started, he used to go light, taps that were more visual than felt. But over time he came to realize that wasn't what Eames really wanted.
Now he puts his entire arm into it, stinging blows that make Arthur's skin tingle with every hit. Eames gasps and shudders beneath him, erection growing as the curves of his ass go pink and sensitive.
Eames shivers as Arthur drags a fingertip over the flushed skin, hisses when Arthur digs in with a thumbnail. The tip of Eames' cock smears precome along Arthur's leg.
Eames whimpers as Arthur sets him down on the ground. He stares up, glassy-eyed, as Arthur binds his legs together.
Arthur settles on top of Eames' chest and pushes the panties to one side, idly stroking his cock. "I'm going to feed you my cock and you're going to come like that," Arthur says, conversationally. "If you fight the bonds, I'm going to leave."
Arthur pauses, watching Eames' face carefully and waiting for the safeword. "I won't fight."
"Good boy," Arthur says, rewarding Eames with the tip of Arthur's cock. Eames opens his mouth but can't quite reach, trying hard with fluttering licks of his tongue. Arthur smiles approvingly and sits forward a bit more, allowing Eames' lips to close around the head.
Eames maintains eye contact as Arthur gradually feeds him cock. Eames licks and sucks as much as he can, unable to do anything besides take what Arthur gives him. This is a side of Eames Arthur never expected to see, never expected to know, back when he first asked Eames out for a drink.
"Is this what you want?" Arthur asks, guiding his cock up to allow Eames to speak.
"Yes," Eames says, quietly. "You're what I want."
It's too much, Arthur thinks as he stoppers up Eames' mouth once more. He feels foolish and fond not close enough to coming. The last situation is remedied easily enough as Eames applies his considerable skill, staring up at Arthur all the while.
"I don't know how you've done this to me," Arthur whispers as he strokes Eames' cheek, the line of his nose. "Three years and I still-I can't imagine my life without-"
Eames leans into Arthur's touch, unselfconscious and unafraid.
Orgasm comes in a cresting wave, so gradual Arthur doesn't notice it approaching until Eames pulls off and closes his eyes. Arthur feels a damp splatter of come across his lower back and sits up, takes his cock in hand and finishes across Eames' beautiful, impossible face.
Afterwards, Arthur goes to clean off and to get a damp towel. He returns to find Eames slipping free from the rope, yawning and stretching.
Arthur pets Eames clean, tucks him under the covers. Eames smiles, waiting patiently for Arthur to kick off his shoes and strip. Arthur crawls in beside him and accepts a kiss, familiar and chaste.
"Does it still hurt?" Arthur asks, rubbing a thumb along the small of Eames' back, above the swell of his ass.
"Yes," Eames says, almost feline in his contentment. "Well done."
"If you want me to go lighter…"
"I don't. I like it this way," Eames says simply. Arthur doesn't understand, exactly, and maybe never will, but it makes Eames happy and that's enough. "Thank you for a lovely Valentine's Day. We can do blowjobs and beer next year, I promise."
"That sounds awesome," Arthur says, thinking about how easily Eames freed himself from the ties. No matter how good Arthur gets at knots, the only thing ever holding Eames is his desire to be held.
fin
Poll Fic: My Funny Valentine