[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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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. ]