Oh god. I've finally done it.
I've written straight-up porn. This is a big moment for me. There is no romance in this fic, no zombies, no karaoke, no fight scenes, no drawn out seductions, no mythical dreamy elements. No plot. There are only blowjobs, rimming, and purple vibrators.
Title: Spectacular
Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)
Rating: NC 17
Wordcount: 1383
Warnings: SEX. Oral Sex. Rimming. Vibrators. Crap dialogue. Lots of use of the word "fuck". Porn of the porntastic variety. A terrible title that I'm too lazy to change.
Notes: This is written for nemesister, who donated money for the Queensland flooding in exchange for fic. She asked for a first-time fic with an Arthur who had never been with a guy before. I gave her porn. I'm sorry, bb, if you actually wanted a real fic, but this is what came out. This is what happens when I spend a day trawling through cherrybina's Ass Worship Fest and then try to write.
This is unbeta'd, and was written in less than 24 hours, so if there's mistakes, feel free to gleefully point them out.
***
They’re pressed against the door to Eames’ flat when Arthur mumbles something.
“What?” Eames says, too distracted by trying to get his key into the door without taking his hand off Arthur’s ass for longer than necessary.
“Forget it,” Arthur says. “Not important.”
There’s something strange about his tone, but Eames finds it hard to think when someone else’s tongue is in his mouth. So he shrugs it off, manages to unlock the door, and pulls them both inside.
They barely make it. Eames bashes his hip on the doorjamb, and Arthur trips over the umbrella stand. They wind up on the floor, but there’s a minimum of bruising and really, it’s worth it to have Arthur spread out so gorgeously beneath him. Eames pins Arthur with a hand on his hip and bears down on him, biting on the other man’s bottom lip as they rut against each other.
“Fuck’s sake,” Eames says. “I can’t believe it took me this long to get you in bed.”
“What bed?” Arthur asks. “We’re still on the floor.”
“Details,” Eames says, before hauling the both of them up and shoving Arthur at the bed. Eames pauses to rid himself of his shirt, socks, and belt before stalking over to the bed, standing between Arthur’s thighs. “Regardless, I’m glad you’ve finally given into my charms.”
Arthur narrows his eyes. “Give me a break. This isn’t a romance novel.”
“Whatever,” Eames says, unbuttoning his pants. “So long as I still get to fuck you.”
If he hadn’t actually been looking into Arthur’s eyes, he might have missed the expression of sudden panic, there and then gone. Eames blinks, not entirely sure what just transpired.
“Or you can fuck me,” Eames says hesitantly.
If anything, the panic in Arthur’s eyes is even more acute, though just as quickly suppressed. Eames can see it though, lurking in the back of Arthur’s darkened eyes and in the twitching muscle in his jaw.
“Oh, Jesus,” he says before he can stop himself. “Is this your first-”
“Fuck you,” Arthur snaps, blushing a furious red, and pushes himself off the bed. Eames shoves him back down, pinning him onto the mattress.
“That’s what you tried to say to me in the hall?” Eames says, pinning Arthur’s wrists before he can throw a punch. “That this is your first time?”
“First time with a man, asshole. Get off me.” Arthur shoves at him, but he’s not trying too hard to get away. If he was, Eames knows, Arthur would be out the door and Eames would probably be bleeding on the floor.
As it is, Eames is still able to use his greater body weight to press Arthur into the mattress. He lets Arthur struggle against him, but he can still feel the other man’s erection, a warm, hard weight against his thigh. Eames deliberately pushes his leg into it, and Arthur goes still.
“You’re going to tell me you’re straight?” Eames says, shifting his leg, rubbing it against Arthur’s cock.
Arthur cants his head back with the movement. “Not straight. Just... choosy.”
Eames laughs, then leans down and gently slides his lips against Arthur’s. “I’m honored.”
“Piss off,” Arthur says, but there’s a grin lurking at the corners of his mouth, and he allows Eames to kiss him.
Eames thinks furiously as they roll around on the bed, hands everywhere, Arthur’s body hot and solid beneath him. Anal sex is out. Fingering is a possibility, but something tells him Arthur wouldn’t be into it; wouldn’t say no, but wouldn’t get off on it much. Mutual masturbation is for teenagers. Blowjobs are nice, but sucking cock seems so mundane, and Eames wants to do something really mind-blowing. He feels weirdly pressured, knowing that this is Arthur’s first venture into queer sex, like it’s up to him to make this fucking spectacular.
That really only leaves one or two things, he thinks as he slips his hands below Arthur’s waistband. The things most straight guys never get to experience - to their loss, in Eames’ opinion.
He unbuttons Arthur’s trousers. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” Arthur says.
“Just making sure,” Eames says, then pulls off Arthur’s trousers and pants in one movement. “Because I’m going to put my tongue in your arse now.”
“What?!”
Eames flips him over, and to his credit, Arthur doesn’t fight him, just tenses when Eames puts both of his hands on Arthur’s ass and spreads him open.
“Eames, wait-”
Eames doesn’t wait. Eames has been waiting long enough to get at Arthur’s ass, and with it in front of him like this, he doesn’t hesitate for a second before diving in. The first tentative touch of his tongue has Arthur shuddering, moving like he’s not sure whether he should pull away or push into it. Eames doesn’t give him a chance to do either, just pulls on Arthur’s hips for a better angle and flutters his tongue against Arthur’s hole.
“Oh, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ, that’s... that’s-”
“What? What is it?” Eames says, and is gratified to see Arthur’s reaction to the deep vibrations of his voice.
“This is fucking...”
“Amazing? Unsanitary? The best thing ever?” He punctuates question with a swirl of his tongue, then starts licking and nibbling in earnest, not letting up until Arthur is making deep, guttural groans and pushing himself back onto his knees, trying to snake a hand around to jerk himself off.
“None of that,” Eames says. “It goes against the plan.”
“Plan?” Arthur asks hoarsely. “You have a plan?”
“Don’t I always?” Eames asks, with one parting lick. He scrabbles briefly in the drawer of his nightstand, before he finds what he’s looking for.
“What the fuck is that?” Arthur asks, turning over onto his back.
“It’s a vibrator, smartarse.”
“Why is it purple?”
Eames looks at the vibrator - which is indeed purple, that was the only color available at the time - then glares at Arthur. “I must be doing something wrong if you can still form coherent sentences. Now lie back and shut up.”
Arthur watches him as Eames wriggles down to where he can mouth at Arthur’s cock. Eames listens to the little gasps Arthur makes, hums approvingly when Arthur tangles one of his hands in Eames’ hair. And just when he thinks Arthur’s getting a little too comfortable, he switches the vibrator on its lowest setting, and touches it to Arthur’s ass.
“Fuck!” Arthur shouts - actually shouts! - as his hands tug painfully on Eames’ hair. “Jesus, Eames, what the fuck are you nnnngh-”
Arthur trails off into incoherency when Eames switches the vibe to a higher setting. Eames chuckles a little, lets Arthur’s cock slip from his lips to ask, “Good?”
Arthur’s only answer is a wild-eyed nod.
Eames levers one of Arthur’s legs over his shoulder for better angle, and twists the vibrator against Arthur’s hole. “Good.”
It doesn’t take long after that. All the warning Eames gets is a solid yank on his hair before Arthur bucks into his mouth. He swallows when Arthur’s cock finally stops pulsing - he’s always felt like spitting was just uncouth - and turns off the vibrator before collapsing next to Arthur’s hip.
He's always wondered what Arthur looks like post-coitus. The answer: rather edible. He’s sweaty, skin flushed, chest still heaving half a minute after his orgasm, eyes closed in an expression of supreme satisfaction. Eames gives himself a mental pat on the back, because it’s a nice distraction from his raging hard-on.
“So, sex with men,” Eames says. “Not so bad, eh?”
Arthur rolls his head around to look at Eames. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Just... checking in. Wanted to make sure you weren’t about to have a Big Gay Freakout or something.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Go brush your teeth.”
Eames wrinkles his nose. “What?”
“I want to kiss you, but I know where your tongue’s been. Go brush your teeth. And then...”
Eames levers himself up. “Then?”
Arthur looks at him; defiance, bravado, and desire mingle in his expression. “How do you feel about talking me through giving my first blowjob?”
Eames dick twitches. After a second, he gets up and says, “I’m going to brush my teeth now.”
Arthur leans back and grins at him. “You do that.”
Title: Spectacular
Fandom: Inception (Arthur/Eames)
Rating: NC 17
Wordcount: 1383
Warnings: SEX. Oral Sex. Rimming. Vibrators. Crap dialogue. Lots of use of the word "fuck". Porn of the porntastic variety. A terrible title that I'm too lazy to change.
Notes: This is written for nemesister, who donated money for the Queensland flooding in exchange for fic. She asked for a first-time fic with an Arthur who had never been with a guy before. I gave her porn. I'm sorry, bb, if you actually wanted a real fic, but this is what came out. This is what happens when I spend a day trawling through cherrybina's Ass Worship Fest and then try to write.
This is unbeta'd, and was written in less than 24 hours, so if there's mistakes, feel free to gleefully point them out.
***
They’re pressed against the door to Eames’ flat when Arthur mumbles something.
“What?” Eames says, too distracted by trying to get his key into the door without taking his hand off Arthur’s ass for longer than necessary.
“Forget it,” Arthur says. “Not important.”
There’s something strange about his tone, but Eames finds it hard to think when someone else’s tongue is in his mouth. So he shrugs it off, manages to unlock the door, and pulls them both inside.
They barely make it. Eames bashes his hip on the doorjamb, and Arthur trips over the umbrella stand. They wind up on the floor, but there’s a minimum of bruising and really, it’s worth it to have Arthur spread out so gorgeously beneath him. Eames pins Arthur with a hand on his hip and bears down on him, biting on the other man’s bottom lip as they rut against each other.
“Fuck’s sake,” Eames says. “I can’t believe it took me this long to get you in bed.”
“What bed?” Arthur asks. “We’re still on the floor.”
“Details,” Eames says, before hauling the both of them up and shoving Arthur at the bed. Eames pauses to rid himself of his shirt, socks, and belt before stalking over to the bed, standing between Arthur’s thighs. “Regardless, I’m glad you’ve finally given into my charms.”
Arthur narrows his eyes. “Give me a break. This isn’t a romance novel.”
“Whatever,” Eames says, unbuttoning his pants. “So long as I still get to fuck you.”
If he hadn’t actually been looking into Arthur’s eyes, he might have missed the expression of sudden panic, there and then gone. Eames blinks, not entirely sure what just transpired.
“Or you can fuck me,” Eames says hesitantly.
If anything, the panic in Arthur’s eyes is even more acute, though just as quickly suppressed. Eames can see it though, lurking in the back of Arthur’s darkened eyes and in the twitching muscle in his jaw.
“Oh, Jesus,” he says before he can stop himself. “Is this your first-”
“Fuck you,” Arthur snaps, blushing a furious red, and pushes himself off the bed. Eames shoves him back down, pinning him onto the mattress.
“That’s what you tried to say to me in the hall?” Eames says, pinning Arthur’s wrists before he can throw a punch. “That this is your first time?”
“First time with a man, asshole. Get off me.” Arthur shoves at him, but he’s not trying too hard to get away. If he was, Eames knows, Arthur would be out the door and Eames would probably be bleeding on the floor.
As it is, Eames is still able to use his greater body weight to press Arthur into the mattress. He lets Arthur struggle against him, but he can still feel the other man’s erection, a warm, hard weight against his thigh. Eames deliberately pushes his leg into it, and Arthur goes still.
“You’re going to tell me you’re straight?” Eames says, shifting his leg, rubbing it against Arthur’s cock.
Arthur cants his head back with the movement. “Not straight. Just... choosy.”
Eames laughs, then leans down and gently slides his lips against Arthur’s. “I’m honored.”
“Piss off,” Arthur says, but there’s a grin lurking at the corners of his mouth, and he allows Eames to kiss him.
Eames thinks furiously as they roll around on the bed, hands everywhere, Arthur’s body hot and solid beneath him. Anal sex is out. Fingering is a possibility, but something tells him Arthur wouldn’t be into it; wouldn’t say no, but wouldn’t get off on it much. Mutual masturbation is for teenagers. Blowjobs are nice, but sucking cock seems so mundane, and Eames wants to do something really mind-blowing. He feels weirdly pressured, knowing that this is Arthur’s first venture into queer sex, like it’s up to him to make this fucking spectacular.
That really only leaves one or two things, he thinks as he slips his hands below Arthur’s waistband. The things most straight guys never get to experience - to their loss, in Eames’ opinion.
He unbuttons Arthur’s trousers. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Would I be here if I didn’t?” Arthur says.
“Just making sure,” Eames says, then pulls off Arthur’s trousers and pants in one movement. “Because I’m going to put my tongue in your arse now.”
“What?!”
Eames flips him over, and to his credit, Arthur doesn’t fight him, just tenses when Eames puts both of his hands on Arthur’s ass and spreads him open.
“Eames, wait-”
Eames doesn’t wait. Eames has been waiting long enough to get at Arthur’s ass, and with it in front of him like this, he doesn’t hesitate for a second before diving in. The first tentative touch of his tongue has Arthur shuddering, moving like he’s not sure whether he should pull away or push into it. Eames doesn’t give him a chance to do either, just pulls on Arthur’s hips for a better angle and flutters his tongue against Arthur’s hole.
“Oh, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ, that’s... that’s-”
“What? What is it?” Eames says, and is gratified to see Arthur’s reaction to the deep vibrations of his voice.
“This is fucking...”
“Amazing? Unsanitary? The best thing ever?” He punctuates question with a swirl of his tongue, then starts licking and nibbling in earnest, not letting up until Arthur is making deep, guttural groans and pushing himself back onto his knees, trying to snake a hand around to jerk himself off.
“None of that,” Eames says. “It goes against the plan.”
“Plan?” Arthur asks hoarsely. “You have a plan?”
“Don’t I always?” Eames asks, with one parting lick. He scrabbles briefly in the drawer of his nightstand, before he finds what he’s looking for.
“What the fuck is that?” Arthur asks, turning over onto his back.
“It’s a vibrator, smartarse.”
“Why is it purple?”
Eames looks at the vibrator - which is indeed purple, that was the only color available at the time - then glares at Arthur. “I must be doing something wrong if you can still form coherent sentences. Now lie back and shut up.”
Arthur watches him as Eames wriggles down to where he can mouth at Arthur’s cock. Eames listens to the little gasps Arthur makes, hums approvingly when Arthur tangles one of his hands in Eames’ hair. And just when he thinks Arthur’s getting a little too comfortable, he switches the vibrator on its lowest setting, and touches it to Arthur’s ass.
“Fuck!” Arthur shouts - actually shouts! - as his hands tug painfully on Eames’ hair. “Jesus, Eames, what the fuck are you nnnngh-”
Arthur trails off into incoherency when Eames switches the vibe to a higher setting. Eames chuckles a little, lets Arthur’s cock slip from his lips to ask, “Good?”
Arthur’s only answer is a wild-eyed nod.
Eames levers one of Arthur’s legs over his shoulder for better angle, and twists the vibrator against Arthur’s hole. “Good.”
It doesn’t take long after that. All the warning Eames gets is a solid yank on his hair before Arthur bucks into his mouth. He swallows when Arthur’s cock finally stops pulsing - he’s always felt like spitting was just uncouth - and turns off the vibrator before collapsing next to Arthur’s hip.
He's always wondered what Arthur looks like post-coitus. The answer: rather edible. He’s sweaty, skin flushed, chest still heaving half a minute after his orgasm, eyes closed in an expression of supreme satisfaction. Eames gives himself a mental pat on the back, because it’s a nice distraction from his raging hard-on.
“So, sex with men,” Eames says. “Not so bad, eh?”
Arthur rolls his head around to look at Eames. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Just... checking in. Wanted to make sure you weren’t about to have a Big Gay Freakout or something.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Go brush your teeth.”
Eames wrinkles his nose. “What?”
“I want to kiss you, but I know where your tongue’s been. Go brush your teeth. And then...”
Eames levers himself up. “Then?”
Arthur looks at him; defiance, bravado, and desire mingle in his expression. “How do you feel about talking me through giving my first blowjob?”
Eames dick twitches. After a second, he gets up and says, “I’m going to brush my teeth now.”
Arthur leans back and grins at him. “You do that.”