[The hesitation has him worrying, but then Arthur's actually sliding into his lap, and he's breathless. He looks up at him, hands falling gently to his waist. He leans up, brushing his mouth along Arthur's jaw.]
Perfect, [he murmurs, pulling back to see his eyes, his expression. He moves in closer moments later to press his lips to Arthur's gently before he's kissing him harder, more hungrily.]
[ Just a few moments ago, he'd been thinking about Eames' warm palms, how it radiated off of his skin all the way to his fingertips. The sensation doubles as those hands come to rest on his waist and he can't help but notice how big they are in comparison. They can't quite wrap around his waist, but they'd make a good effort and the rush of arousal he feels at that is heady, intoxicating.
Eames leans back then, words a murmur, and Arthur lets him look, keeps his gaze as steady as he can. Even though it feels like his heart is trying to climb up his throat and make itself known. And then they're kissing again, soft at first before it slides into more desperate territory. Arthur angles his mouth a little better, licks at Eames' bottom lip, slides his tongue across the other's. It's been a while since he's done this, but his body remembers with alarming clarity.
Groaning into it, he settles his weight into his lap more, can't help the little shift of his hips. ]
[Eames groans, moving his lips against his, relishing the feel of his tongue against Arthur's. Arthur shifts in his lap, and Eames moans against his mouth, moving up against him.
This is dangerous. Their whole relationship is in limbo. He's scared of losing any part of Arthur, including losing this, because this is... so good. He wants this. And more. But right now, he really wants this.
He shifts up against him with a groan, suddenly very achingly hard. He reaches up, rubbing up his stomach to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them before he can second-guess himself.]
[ Somewhere, he knows this is courting trouble. His instincts as a point man are blaring, the frantic waving of mental red flags matching the uptick of his pulse. They're here to work, to pull a fast one over the mark down the street with no one the wiser. He's playing a role and so is Eames, affection a switch that's flipped on or off depending on who they're around.
And right now, it's no one but them. An audience of two with bated breath, with the rasp of skin against cloth, the wet sound of kisses.
He should pull away before this goes further. Before they both veer off track into something that's less professional and more personal.
But then Eames is groaning into his mouth, slotting hips against his own, and Arthur can barely see straight let alone think about any consequences. Deft fingers undo his shirt and he just lets him, reaching out to untuck Eames' shirt from his trousers. He pushes his hands under the fabric, rucking it up as he slides his palms to the forger's stomach. Taking a second, he ducks away from the kiss to breathe and to grind down into Eames' lap, the friction going straight to his cock. ]
[It was so quick, the moment between him kissing him and then having a lapful of Arthur. He's not complaining, but he hardly knows what to do but let his himself do what he wants, let his hands tug Arthur's shirt out of his trousers after he's finished unbuttoning it.
His hand moves then, to slide over Arthur's stomach, up to his pecs. And then he's grinding against him again, and Eames loses all thoughts in his head except the one telling him to move up against him.]
Arthur... fuck, I wanna be inside you, [he rumbles against his skin, mouthing hotly at his neck, beyond thinking of professionalism or even of the carefully-built wall between them.]
[ This was why he'd restrained himself before. Why he'd exercised such self control. Arthur had never been worried about hating it, only concerned about the opposite. That he'd spiral, undone, as soon as Eames put his hands on him.
As it turns out, he's right. Right now, he doesn't care. Can't find a single reason to stop, especially not when Eames' hands are so warm on his skin, when they're grinding together, erections pressed against the seams of their trousers. ]
Okay, yeah, yes.
[ He tilts his head away, gives the forger better access to where he's mouthing at his neck and something flares hot in his belly when he thinks about any marks he might leave. Reluctantly, he disentangles himself, sliding out of Eames' lap on shaky legs. If he's going all in, he's not going to get fucked on the couch when there's perfectly good beds upstairs. ]
Come on. [ His tone is low, voice a little rough from lust. Eames looks just as affected and that gives him a thrill, how much he can shred his normally unflappable demeanor. When he gets up to his room, he sheds his pants and underwear, shrugs his shirt off, leaves it all on the floor. ]
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Perfect, [he murmurs, pulling back to see his eyes, his expression. He moves in closer moments later to press his lips to Arthur's gently before he's kissing him harder, more hungrily.]
no subject
Eames leans back then, words a murmur, and Arthur lets him look, keeps his gaze as steady as he can. Even though it feels like his heart is trying to climb up his throat and make itself known. And then they're kissing again, soft at first before it slides into more desperate territory. Arthur angles his mouth a little better, licks at Eames' bottom lip, slides his tongue across the other's. It's been a while since he's done this, but his body remembers with alarming clarity.
Groaning into it, he settles his weight into his lap more, can't help the little shift of his hips. ]
no subject
This is dangerous. Their whole relationship is in limbo. He's scared of losing any part of Arthur, including losing this, because this is... so good. He wants this. And more. But right now, he really wants this.
He shifts up against him with a groan, suddenly very achingly hard. He reaches up, rubbing up his stomach to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them before he can second-guess himself.]
no subject
And right now, it's no one but them. An audience of two with bated breath, with the rasp of skin against cloth, the wet sound of kisses.
He should pull away before this goes further. Before they both veer off track into something that's less professional and more personal.
But then Eames is groaning into his mouth, slotting hips against his own, and Arthur can barely see straight let alone think about any consequences. Deft fingers undo his shirt and he just lets him, reaching out to untuck Eames' shirt from his trousers. He pushes his hands under the fabric, rucking it up as he slides his palms to the forger's stomach. Taking a second, he ducks away from the kiss to breathe and to grind down into Eames' lap, the friction going straight to his cock. ]
Oh fuck.
no subject
His hand moves then, to slide over Arthur's stomach, up to his pecs. And then he's grinding against him again, and Eames loses all thoughts in his head except the one telling him to move up against him.]
Arthur... fuck, I wanna be inside you, [he rumbles against his skin, mouthing hotly at his neck, beyond thinking of professionalism or even of the carefully-built wall between them.]
no subject
As it turns out, he's right. Right now, he doesn't care. Can't find a single reason to stop, especially not when Eames' hands are so warm on his skin, when they're grinding together, erections pressed against the seams of their trousers. ]
Okay, yeah, yes.
[ He tilts his head away, gives the forger better access to where he's mouthing at his neck and something flares hot in his belly when he thinks about any marks he might leave. Reluctantly, he disentangles himself, sliding out of Eames' lap on shaky legs. If he's going all in, he's not going to get fucked on the couch when there's perfectly good beds upstairs. ]
Come on. [ His tone is low, voice a little rough from lust. Eames looks just as affected and that gives him a thrill, how much he can shred his normally unflappable demeanor. When he gets up to his room, he sheds his pants and underwear, shrugs his shirt off, leaves it all on the floor. ]