[ The thing about Eames' focus is that it's hard to keep, sometimes. Oh, he rarely has to worry about his concentration drifting when they're working a job; they'd moved past that sort of thing years ago. But, the forger is a purveyor of people, constantly cataloguing the body language and tone of others around him. There's normally a piece of his attention dedicated to that, even if he's in conversation with him. Arthur had hated it, at first, thinking that he wasn't paying any mind to his words. He's learned differently, since then.
To be regarded with the full weight of Eames' gaze, though, without a single part of him idly thinking of something else—it's completely heady. Piercing, in some ways, like the other man can see straight through him. Despite how he slides his mouth further onto Eames' cock, a rosy flush crawls up his neck and cheeks, both from the attention and from the unmistakable throb of affection he can hear in his compliments.
The brush of his fingers along his brow sees Arthur tilting towards it, just a bit, much like a cat does to a beloved owner. Pulling his mouth off (and not at all minding the thread of saliva that remains connected momentarily), he curls his hand around him in a loose fist, slowly stroking. ]
If I do kill you, metaphorically, how soon can you get it up again? Because I think I really need to sit on your dick. [ He'd imagined being content with blowing him to completion, really, but as he starts to swallow him down again, he feels his whole gut clench in arousal, thinking of how good it would feel to have Eames stretch him open. Just as the thought slides across his mind, he leans lower, giving a low groan as the head of his cock brushes the back of his throat. His hands slip upwards, palms dragging down the forger's torso and curving to the angle of his hips. ]
( A delirious little curse, accent thick. He has to close his eyes at that, focus narrowing down to the warmth of a mouth and not whatever cock-torturing-image Arthur's taken to portraying. Already he feels it too much, arousal aching, body flushed. Has he ever been this quick to fall so deep? He doesn't think so. )
I think if you don't let me fuck you I'll have to do something drastic. And you know me, - h-ha - I've never done things by halves. ( The thought alone has his cock jumping against Arthur's tongue, his hand pushing deeper into lush, dark hair. He doesn't apply pressure, he's not really interested in turning this into anything more than it is, delicious heat and a spark burning along the shape of his spine. He likes testing the waters, likes letting it develop naturally. How soon -? ) You know I've been watching your arse since the day we met, don't you? It inspires great things, fuck, you feel good, it makes a man defy both logic and law. I'd assassinate the president if you told me that's how I'd get my hands on it, so you can damn well believe I'll get it fucking up.
( He laughs again, a little delirious, a little delighted. )
Arthur, darling. I'll do whatever you ask of me.
( He grins, cupping Arthur's cheek where he can feel the swell of himself. )
[ While neither of them are particularly easy to provoke into unraveling, Eames has always been more mouthy. Still, there's a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when the other man curses, his eyes fluttering shut from sensation and the effect of his lobbed words.
Slowly, he bobs his head, letting Eames talk, the combined filth and warmth nudging his arousal higher. It makes him hot all over; the careful weight of the hand in his hair, the control he currently has over the stutter in Eames' breath, the way he seems patently unable to shut up, everything spilling from his mouth like he's let the dam walls down.
It, perhaps, has the desired effect. Perhaps, because Arthur has no idea if he meant for his talking to make him horny as hell, but it's working. Each new obscene sentence streaks down his spine, pools directly between his legs where his own cock is pressing insistently against the front of his boxer-briefs.
His eyes drift shut as the other man's palm cradles along his cheek, feeling both so cared for and turned on that he's a bit overwhelmed. With one last motion, he sinks all the way down on Eames, the tip of his nose brushing against the coarse curls between his thick thighs. Swallowing, his own hips give an aborted hitch before he pulls off, cupping his own hand over the other's to nuzzle against. ]
When was the last time I didn't notice something, Eames. [ Arthur raises an eyebrow at him, voice a bit raw. Uncurling, he shimmies out of his underwear, tossing the garment somewhere over the bed. Flush high on his cheeks and sprawling down his chest, he swings a leg over Eames' hips, shifting backwards enough to let his erection settle along his cleft.
Reaching forward, he cups his face in both his hands, an open and impossibly fond look on his expression. ]
You don't have to go to great lengths to prove yourself anymore, idiot. I've already let you in my home. I meant it, when I said I tried to get you out from under my skin and couldn't. [ And by Christ did he try. ] God or whatever fucking deity is out there help me, but it's always been you, for me.
For a moment that's all Eames can think about. It isn't something he'd legitimately considered he might get, beyond frustrated pining or petty little fantasies. They started off too like oil and water for anything real, and when the adrenaline switched to affection he still hadn't really let himself hope. That was for fools and children, and he was neither. But maybe he should have let himself consider that he might, because then he could have prepared for how earth-shatteringly good it is to get there. )
I still would.
( Prove himself, assassinate a president, fight entire armies.
Arthur's hands on his face are warm, and Eames smiles at him in a way that is oddly sweet, hands on his waist and a thumb stroking over the notch of his hip bone. He wants to bite him there later, wants to sink his teeth in and leave a mark. He wants to take his time and he wants to rush. It's a terrible conundrum. )
Arthur --. ( A little rough around the edges, mirrored hand sliding up to skate along his ribs, squeeze a pec. Then he becomes more himself, more teasing, more playful. ) - Tell me you have lube in your very nice house, darling. ( A thumb skating over a pert nipple, the edge of his nail scraping tauntingly. ) Otherwise I'm going to have to wander the streets looking for it.
[ He scoffs quietly—not out of disbelief, but more out of amusement. Of course Eames would still do something off the rails to prove himself. Of course. Hadn't he said as much before? That he doesn't do anything by halves? A trait both of them shared, for better or worse.
Stroking his thumbs across the forger's cheeks, relishing the rasps of stubble, he drinks in the softer look. Positively soaks up how Eames is looking at him as though he's both hung the moon and that he wants to consume him somehow. Arthur can only hope he's reflecting something similar back, because as Eames' big hands settle on his waist, a hunger flares low in his belly. It's spurred on as clever fingers trace the curve of his ribs and give his chest a squeeze, nipples perking at how the teasing brush draws a shiver from him.
Very slightly, he arches into the sensation, sliding his own hands away from Eames' face to skim along the breadth of his shoulders and then down to his pecs. ]
Of course I have lube—[ He starts, with a small laugh, before he transfers some of his weight to reach over to the nightstand. With the open and close of a drawer, he re-settles into his previous spot, bottle of lube in hand. ]—I might be a masochist sometimes, but I don't fuck myself dry.
[ And he'll just let that image percolate. As a follow up, he'll hold the bottle out for Eames to take. ] Here, since you asked. Wanna feel you stretch me out.
You once told me to go fuck myself with a hairbrush, so who knows what you're into?
( It was a prop, and Eames had been dressed like a beautiful woman then, leaning into Arthur's space all fluttering eyelashes and badly cinched bathrobe, taunting him because back in those days it was the only way he could get his attention. Now though, now there's something better at hand, and Eames takes the bottle of lube and folds it in a broad palm to warm it, head ducking upwards to catch the pointman's mouth in his. This kiss is slow, languid, the kind of kiss that gives away all of his earlier yearning. He kisses Arthur like he wants to steal the heart from him, like the use of tongue and teeth and lips might do it. He kisses Arthur until he's breathless, one hand against the hurried rise and fall of his ribcage.
When they pull away he laughs, and it's a delighted thing. It takes some shifting then. He holds Arthur close to his body, propping himself up against the headboard with a hum, the bottle cap loud when he opens it. Even then he still lets the lube sit on his fingers for a moment, grin sweetly mischievous, voice gone sly. )
Don't worry, darling. I know my fingers are big. I'll be careful.
( And he is. He drags his lips gently against a sharp jawline, arm curling around Arthur's waist so he can slide those slick fingers between his asscheeks, lube slippery. One, for now, light and teasing, pressing in slowly against the tight ring of muscle while Eames hums out a singular sound. )
[ The hairbrush comment sees him huffing a laugh, shaking his head a bit. That'd been so long ago, when the two of them had been at odds more often than not.
Clearly, they've come a ways since, because as Eames kisses him, he goes into it with a sense of greed. Lets the other man build the kiss with his lips and tongue and the occasional sting of teeth. Arthur loses himself in it, focuses only on how much he wants this, how he can feel something like desperation in each swipe of their tongues. But, it isn't the kind spurred on by dire circumstances or adrenaline, it's a bone-deep need, a spiral of yearning finally being allowed to peek out. By the time Eames pulls away, he's dizzy, flushed a rosy pink to the tips of his ears, and his mouth feels swollen, bruised. Joy blooms behind his ribs as steadily as desire settles in his hips when Eames laughs, the sound completely unfettered.
Loose-limbed, he allows himself to be maneuvered while the forger sits up, one broad hand at the small of his back to keep him close, steady. Lightly, his cock drags against the other man's belly, the friction enough to make him shiver from the sensitivity. ]
You don't have to be that careful, I'm not made of glass. [ Caution should perhaps be observed, since the last time he'd slid a dildo in was a number of weeks ago. Maybe even months. He's just so primed that the slippery push of a single finger feels incredible—Eames' hands really are bigger and broader than his. Something he knew and fantasized about frequently, because despite their thickness, Eames has very dexterous fingers. And he wants so badly to have them rocking in and out of him that one simply isn't enough to scratch the itch.
Head tilted back to give Eames space to kiss his neck, he drops his weight some, hips canted towards the intrusion. ]
Fuck, Eames, give me another. [ Arthur presses his palms to the forger's chest, uses that as leverage to fuck himself slowly on that digit. ] Thought about this before, you know. All because you couldn't stop playing with those stupid poker chips.
[ A habit he'd caught him doing on a job about a year or two into them knowing each other. ]
( An old-fashioned cluck of his tongue, Eames' teasing voice directed to the hollow of Arthur's throat as he drags his teeth lightly against his skin. They've known each other for long enough, worked together years now, so of course it feels as though his brain has to pick up like a spark on the command. He draws the first finger out so two can drag along the furled puckered muscle, teasing once, twice, a third time before he does as he's asked and pushes them both in, leaning back to let his dark gaze settle on Arthur's flushing face. )
I knew you were watching. That's why I did it. ( Simultaneously a nervous tic and a vying for attention, his grin sharp as he eases those fingers deeper, higher, stretching them as deep as he can before switching to shallow thrusts. His free hand settles against Arthur's waist, fingertips kneading much like a cat might, thumb over the sharp edge of his hip bone to hold him steady when he fucks his touch back into him. ) You always looked so hungry, Arthur. Do you know how many times I thought about just bending you over the nearest desk and showing you what they could do, mm?
( It is not quite time wasted. He thinks they needed to meander. He was an obnoxious twat in the beginning, mystified by beauty. Now he's spent the hours getting to know Arthur better, he's put in the energy in trying to prove it. It's worked out. He'd wait a century either way, especially for the noise Arthur makes when he gets his fingers deep enough, stroking. )
Christ. ( A little breathless himself. ) If I'd known how nicely you clung to my touch I don't think I'd have ever done any work. Arthur, sweetheart. You're so lovely. Is it good?
This may surprise you, but my patience doesn't run forever. [ Though he very much doubts that will shock him. Eames has seen him lose his temper before. Or seen him get fed up enough.
What's under his skin now, though, is a different burn. And Eames expertly stokes it, the light callouses of his fingertips dragging just right across his hole. Reflexively, he tries to follow the touch, breath stuttering when two fingers finally sink in. It's just to the first knuckle for a few moments before Eames slides them deeper, spreading them up on the inside. Greedy for it, Arthur clenches down, a low moan working its way out of him at the pressure. ]
Fuck, of course you were. Can't believe you thought me a cocktease.
[ Taking the hint from the hand on his waist, he tries to stay mostly still, only giving small shifts of his hips as those thick digits work him open. ] Probably as many times as I wanted to shove you into a chair and ride you raw.
[ An instinct he'd been annoyed by, in the beginning. Gradually, the irritation over it had faded, especially as Eames had shown his competence and strange brand of loyalty. By the time Arthur had felt like he could trust him implicitly, the hunger the forger mentions had grown and he'd been less shy about showing it on his face.
All those thoughts get driven out of his head when Eames' fingertips stroke against his prostate, making his cock jerk, a clear spurt of precome dripping onto the forger's stomach. Arthur's chin tips down, a sound like a whine getting caught in his throat as he grinds his hips down. ]
Stop fishing for compliments, you asshole, of course it's good. [ Gathering some of his wits back, he catches Eames' gaze, a fresh blush crawling across his face when he sees how enraptured those grey-blue eyes are, the obvious interest in his slightly parted lips. Unable to help himself, he leans in for a kiss, biting at that plush lower lip. ] Give me another so I can fit your ridiculous dick.
( Smug. Wherever or not his ridiculous dick needs it, he's always had a healthy sense of confidence and he likes this too much to give entirely. Arthur's all sharp teeth and sweet desire and he looks good like this, flushed with a pretty sheen of sweat building at his temples, across his shoulders, down his toned stomach. The forger watches a droplet form, fall, and thinks that next time he'll follow it with his tongue. For now the hand on his hip slides higher, once more thumbing over a pert nipple with a propriety kind of leer alighting Eames' face. He's hard himself, every little twitch of Arthur's body has his cock pressed against an inner thigh, hot and heavy and very much present. But it doesn't quite matter. At least not to him.
He's too busy trying to crack a man wide open. )
I was hoping you'd curse in bed. ( Delivered sweetly as the third finger is added to the play. This time he wastes no time in finding Arthur's prostate again, crooking his fingers deep and dragging them against the bundle of nerves as he does so. ) Though maybe we should worry I might develop some kind of Pavlovian response to it.
( Pop a stiffy the next time Arthur decides to ream him out in the middle of a firefight. His voice goes sly, gaze dragging down the length of Arthur's squirming body as he twists his wrist, starts shallowly fucking him with his fingers, the sound lube an interesting accompaniment. )
All I'll be thinking about is how pretty your cock looks when it wants something.
Four? Yeah, okay. [ Maybe that's overkill. It doesn't matter much, because the idea is thrilling enough. As Eames skims his thumb across a peaked nipple, he arches into the bare contact, hips hitching. The look the forger is leveling at him right now, on anyone else, would earn them a right hook. On Eames, though, it makes him feel hot all over, possessed in a way he wouldn't have thought he'd enjoy. ]
Like my filthy mouth, do you? [ His breathing goes a little funny on that last syllable, the feel of three fingers stretching his rim enough to add a delicious kind of burn. Each press eases it as well as adds to it, Eames' clever fingertips stroking his prostate without mercy. Letting out a long, loud moan, he shifts his hips, trying to get more of that friction and enjoying the secondary sensation of Eames' trapped cock dragging on the inside of his thigh. Sliding his hands up, he clings to the forger's shoulders, blunt nails digging in when Eames turns his wrist, lube making a slick sound as he fucks his fingers in and out. Arthur pushes up on his knees just a bit to help, hips dropping down with every push inwards. ] Fuck, fuck, like that.
[ It's not quite enough to get him all the way off, but it adds gasoline to the flame. With an equally sly smirk: ] Only how pretty my cock is, Mr. Eames? A bit shallow of you.
The rest of you, too. I'm ready to provide a list if you want it, but it is quite detailed. We might get off track. ( Unlikely, but he's enjoying this teasing. ) And I don't know about you, but with how well you're taking my fingers, I want to see how beautifully you take the rest of me too.
( He's hot, an inferno burning under the skin. Eames feels it licking up his fingers, along his shoulders where Arthur is holding on to him, the heat from his body a well-tended fire. He's sweating himself, can sense it along his hairline, like his body is honed with anticipation. Maybe it is, maybe it's always been. Maybe the two of them have forever been hurtling down this road, too fast, too wild for anything but the eventual collide. He likes it either way.
Likes too, the way Arthur's cock jumps when he finally drags his fingertips up the flushed length, smile showing a hint of a canine as he drags that calloused thumb over the slick flushed head. He holds Arthur's gaze when he lifts it away again, tongue darting out to lick at the lingering precome. Then he makes his expression innocent, sweet, dragging his fingers almost all the way out so only the tips are holding him open. )
Don't worry, I'd keep us on track like always. [ Arthur beams at him, utterly charmed that Eames has a list. It might not be a totally organized one, but he does believe it exists. After all, he has his own for the forger; physical things he enjoys, as well as the horribly sappy ones. ] You know me, Eames, when do I do anything with less than full competence?
[ Arthur is a man of extremes, despite how collected his demeanor was normally. He works hard, plays hard, and in this case, has sex with total abandon. Because it's easy to lose himself in the push and pull of Eames' fingers, watching the effect he has on the other man. Watching the sweat bead at his temples and in the hollows of his collarbones. It makes him want to bend at an impossible angle, just so he could lick the perspiration right off his skin, from neck all the way down.
Instead, he's distracted by the light drag of Eames' fingertips along the curve of his cock, a breath stuttering out of him when his thumb swipes across the sensitive head, collecting some of the fluid that's pooled in the slit. Tongue darting out, Eames licks up the precome he'd gathered, normally light eyes darkening with arousal and promise. The three digits stretching him open slide almost all the way out, leaving him feeling a bit empty. With no sense of shame, he crashes their mouths together, a groan catching in his throat when he tastes himself in the kiss. At the same time, he drops his weight more, trying to chase the filling thickness of Eames' fingers again. ]
No complaints. [ He says with a grin, licking his lips. Continuing to tease: ] Too impatient for four, huh?
[ There's very little hesitation when it comes to the other man's question. Being prepared is kind of his whole thing. ]
I'm clean. And unless you've forged your recent blood records, which I doubt— [ Since Eames was rarely in the habit of lying to him, especially in things that were particularly important. ] —then I think we could forgo it.
( He swears under his breath, a finite shudder running under his skin. )
No, darling. I'm clean. It hasn't exactly been at the forefront of my mind. Settling.
( Because that's what it would be, had he chosen to sleep with someone else. Something he didn't quite exactly want, a lesser approximation. He's a little too old and set in his ways for that now, keeps himself busy because the want is so specifically directed. It means he refocuses all of his efforts in fucking Arthur's hole with his fingers, a little gust of a laugh puffed out as he searches for the discarded lube, clumsy with his own desire. )
How do you feel, mm? ( Fingers against his prostrate again, his lips dragging along the curve of a jaw. Lube located, he makes a pleased little sound against skin, leans back until they're looking at each other again, touch dragging once more firmly before he pulls free entirely. ) Ready for me, Arthur?
[ And doesn't that warm him through? Eames has been many things to him over the years, but none as sweet as this. Unable to help himself, he curves one hand to the side of the other man's neck and leans in to kiss him. It's slower, more gentle than the others, and wholly at odds with how Eames has picked up the pace with his fingers again, fucking into him with vigor.
Gasping as his prostate is touched firmly, he clenches around Eames' knuckles, cock jumping at the focused stimulation. More precome leaks, dripping onto the forger's stomach. ]
I feel like I need you to fuck me right now. [ If cracking him wide open had been his aim, Eames certainly was getting close, because his expression is eager, honest when he tilts back to meet the other man's gaze. Remembering he's got his dick trapped along his thigh, Arthur unseats himself from Eames' hips, instead settling next to him. ]
C'mere, like this. [ He says, spreading his legs as he watches Eames slick his cock up. ]
( He's quick to comply, a mild curse falling free on an exhale as he slicks up his own dick, eyelashes briefly fluttering. But he's generous with it, and eager, and so he does not linger. Instead he keeps his fingers wrapped around the base of his newly lubed cock to keep himself steady, free hand grasping for Arthur's hip. ) All right, darling, all right. Come closer, mm? It's going to be good. I'm going to make it so good for you.
( All run-on, almost slurred with how intent he is. They shift to make space, Eames directing them both so the thick blunt head of his dick can press against tight muscle. )
Just breathe.
( Advice he will not take himself, sadly, chest hitching when he breaches just past Arthur's entrance, his blood rushing in his ears, pulse pounding. He's tight, even with his careful administrations, tight and warm and desperately sinful. ) Fuck. H-ha. Arthur. You're so --. Come on, love. There we go. Just a little more.
[ Eames asks him to come closer and he doesn't need to be told twice, shifting his entire body downwards. As the forger settles between his legs, the slick, blunt head of his cock just kissing his rim, Arthur pulls his leg back and folds it towards his ribs, spreading himself a bit wider.
Despite the preparation, the lube, and the searing desire under his skin, it's still a tight fit as Eames starts to feed his dick in. It takes more than a moderate amount of his willpower to remain steady instead of grabbing hold of the other man's shoulders and shoving his hips down to slide him in with one motion. ]
Fuck—[ Arthur tips his head back, breathing out a long stream of air. Hips tilting, he forces himself to relax, a low moan catching in his throat as he feels Eames sink in further and eventually bottom out, groin pressed flush to his ass. That thought, along with the stretch and heavy sensation of being filled up is enough to make him flush from head to toe.
Overwhelmed in the best way, he rolls his hips, squeezing around Eames and eyes fluttering from how good it feels. ]
Jesus fuck, Eames, please move. [ He says, a bit desperate, as he reaches out to curve a hand along the forger's shoulder. ]
( His voice comes winded, like everything in him is winched too tight. That might be because Arthur is a scalding vice around his cock, and Eames is fairly certain there's not a single coherent thought left rattling around in his own skull. So his hands move, settle on the other man's waist, hips rolling in a sinuous shift upwards. It is not quite what he's been asked, but then again Eames does like to tease, and Arthur is so pretty like this. )
Like this? ( Sly, pleased, still shaken himself. ) Ah, no. You like a wilder ride.
( It's easy to keep Arthur where he wants him, hands guiding his hips down just as Eames rolls his up. The breath it knocks out of him is ragged, too pleased, stutters along the other man's collarbone when Eames leans in to drag his teeth there. It gives him a minute, lets him gather himself, and then he's shucking his feet higher up on the bed so he can thrust upwards, a wild laugh escaping him. )
[ The thing about knowing someone as long as he's known Eames is that he's familiar with a large portion of how he simply is. Has seen so many of his varied expressions as well as different states of undress, of unconsciousness, of injury and health alike. So, the way he sounds winded after he's sunk all the way in registers as new. And it lights him up with almost the same efficiency as the upwards jab of his cock inside him. Because while he knew he had an effect on the forger, has even seen all the signs leading up to this moment, it's headier to hear the fray of his control. To know he'd done this to him.
Those big hands curve to his waist and Eames shifts a bit, an insufficient tease. Arthur huffs, the heel pressed to the bed attempting to drag his hips further down. ]
Tease. [ He snipes, without any real heat. ] Yeah, come on, get on with it.
[ Said on the tail end of a gasp, as Eames pulls him by the hips onto his cock as he thrusts in. Gasping at the motion and the graze of teeth, he hooks his other leg around the forger's hips, thigh muscles flexing as he grinds onto his dick. ]
Feels so good, so hot in me—[ He sighs out a moan, a breathy laugh hiccuping out of him at the next jolt of his hips. ]—can't fucking believe I waited this long to take your ridiculous cock.
[ Is it really? Possibly not, but it sure feels that way currently, with the insistent roll of Eames' hips. ]
Ego? ( Another, this time a helpless laugh, teeth catching on the curve of Arthur's jaw, a tease. ) An elaborate way of proving oneself, mm? ( Maybe the last one is the truest one. Eames knows that Arthur is careful, he's precise, he has to account for a whole series of variables, he has to make sure all eventuality has been accounted for. Eames wouldn't have trusted the man he was in the beginning either. So he doesn't mind the meandering path. Not if it means he gets this. So he makes sure to grind their hips together in a slow, filthy press, lets his breath ghost against a collarbone. )
I'm very willing to keep doing the latter, Arthur. If it means I get this. I'll be - h-ha - at your service, as it were.
( Playful, but there's a ring of truth in it. He'd do whatever the other man asked just for a chance at this again. Even if he doesn't think there's going to be anything that could separate them now. He wants this. He wants Arthur in whatever form he can have him, and if he has to keep him sated and happy to keep it then he'll dedicate himself to task. It suits him perfectly well. )
You can say I was a cagey asshole, I won't be offended. [ Arthur replies, words shaped around a soft laugh, the tail end of it gasped out as Eames pushes in, teeth scraping along the line of his jaw. He knows what he's like, knows that he needs to account for every variable he can think of before he commits to something. Sure, he can adjust when necessary—that's what running point is about, really. But, if he has a choice, he's going to wait it out, gather evidence.
With Eames, he'd needed to be certain. In their early days, he hadn't been able to read the forger all to well. And then when he gradually developed the skill, well, he'd thought the other man much too flighty, too absorbed in the superficial. To his dismay, it hadn't stopped him from wanting Eames' hands all over his body. Or kept him from thinking of what sex with him would be like.
Something he now knows, what with the forger off to a great start of fucking him into the mattress. Both thrusts slide across his prostate, making his breath stutter, short nails from one hand digging into Eames' broad shoulder. Then that cock is pressing deep, just how he likes it, and he gives a filthy roll of his hips, squeezing around him. The added friction makes him moan loudly, eyes fluttering shut. ]
Oh, fuck, Eames, like that, yeah. [ Letting go of his thigh, he runs his fingers through the forger's short hair, palm coming to cup the back of his neck. ] I don't—ah—need elaborate displays, you know.
[ Despite his love of designer clothing, he's really a simple man at heart. What they've got right now is enough. More than, really, as he indulges in the feel of Eames' heavier weight against him, the heat of his body, how every grind of his hips seems to open him up further and get them that much closer. ]
( It comes playfully enough, his words a hum pitched low. He can't help himself, not really. There's something about their give and take that deserves space in the bedroom. He adds more fuel to the fire by dragging his teeth along a pale shoulder, humming once before snapping his hips forward just in case Arthur thinks he's playing around. ) Besides, you like it.
( It's easy to fall into a rhythm, one hand shifting to hook around Arthur's thigh and draw it higher around his waist, the other man's cock heavy between them. He can feel it brush skin with every thrust, leaking and hot. A part of him thinks to take him in hand, but there's something good about this too, fingertips leaving their mark wherever Eames' touch falls. They're a sweating mess, slick with it, and the roll of their bodies gets louder with every turn, Eames burying a laugh in Arthur's throat. )
Darling.
( A groan, plush lips dragging back along his jaw to kiss him again, slow and languid in comparison to his thrust. )
You feel fucking unreal, Arthur. Christ. I'm never giving this up, do you hear me? You're mine now, alright?
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Date: 2025-09-10 05:43 pm (UTC)To be regarded with the full weight of Eames' gaze, though, without a single part of him idly thinking of something else—it's completely heady. Piercing, in some ways, like the other man can see straight through him. Despite how he slides his mouth further onto Eames' cock, a rosy flush crawls up his neck and cheeks, both from the attention and from the unmistakable throb of affection he can hear in his compliments.
The brush of his fingers along his brow sees Arthur tilting towards it, just a bit, much like a cat does to a beloved owner. Pulling his mouth off (and not at all minding the thread of saliva that remains connected momentarily), he curls his hand around him in a loose fist, slowly stroking. ]
If I do kill you, metaphorically, how soon can you get it up again? Because I think I really need to sit on your dick. [ He'd imagined being content with blowing him to completion, really, but as he starts to swallow him down again, he feels his whole gut clench in arousal, thinking of how good it would feel to have Eames stretch him open. Just as the thought slides across his mind, he leans lower, giving a low groan as the head of his cock brushes the back of his throat. His hands slip upwards, palms dragging down the forger's torso and curving to the angle of his hips. ]
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Date: 2025-09-10 06:01 pm (UTC)( A delirious little curse, accent thick. He has to close his eyes at that, focus narrowing down to the warmth of a mouth and not whatever cock-torturing-image Arthur's taken to portraying. Already he feels it too much, arousal aching, body flushed. Has he ever been this quick to fall so deep? He doesn't think so. )
I think if you don't let me fuck you I'll have to do something drastic. And you know me, - h-ha - I've never done things by halves. ( The thought alone has his cock jumping against Arthur's tongue, his hand pushing deeper into lush, dark hair. He doesn't apply pressure, he's not really interested in turning this into anything more than it is, delicious heat and a spark burning along the shape of his spine. He likes testing the waters, likes letting it develop naturally. How soon -? ) You know I've been watching your arse since the day we met, don't you? It inspires great things, fuck, you feel good, it makes a man defy both logic and law. I'd assassinate the president if you told me that's how I'd get my hands on it, so you can damn well believe I'll get it fucking up.
( He laughs again, a little delirious, a little delighted. )
Arthur, darling. I'll do whatever you ask of me.
( He grins, cupping Arthur's cheek where he can feel the swell of himself. )
Let me, won't you?
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Date: 2025-09-10 06:59 pm (UTC)Slowly, he bobs his head, letting Eames talk, the combined filth and warmth nudging his arousal higher. It makes him hot all over; the careful weight of the hand in his hair, the control he currently has over the stutter in Eames' breath, the way he seems patently unable to shut up, everything spilling from his mouth like he's let the dam walls down.
It, perhaps, has the desired effect. Perhaps, because Arthur has no idea if he meant for his talking to make him horny as hell, but it's working. Each new obscene sentence streaks down his spine, pools directly between his legs where his own cock is pressing insistently against the front of his boxer-briefs.
His eyes drift shut as the other man's palm cradles along his cheek, feeling both so cared for and turned on that he's a bit overwhelmed. With one last motion, he sinks all the way down on Eames, the tip of his nose brushing against the coarse curls between his thick thighs. Swallowing, his own hips give an aborted hitch before he pulls off, cupping his own hand over the other's to nuzzle against. ]
When was the last time I didn't notice something, Eames. [ Arthur raises an eyebrow at him, voice a bit raw. Uncurling, he shimmies out of his underwear, tossing the garment somewhere over the bed. Flush high on his cheeks and sprawling down his chest, he swings a leg over Eames' hips, shifting backwards enough to let his erection settle along his cleft.
Reaching forward, he cups his face in both his hands, an open and impossibly fond look on his expression. ]
You don't have to go to great lengths to prove yourself anymore, idiot. I've already let you in my home. I meant it, when I said I tried to get you out from under my skin and couldn't. [ And by Christ did he try. ] God or whatever fucking deity is out there help me, but it's always been you, for me.
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Date: 2025-09-11 02:13 pm (UTC)Arthur is naked.
For a moment that's all Eames can think about. It isn't something he'd legitimately considered he might get, beyond frustrated pining or petty little fantasies. They started off too like oil and water for anything real, and when the adrenaline switched to affection he still hadn't really let himself hope. That was for fools and children, and he was neither. But maybe he should have let himself consider that he might, because then he could have prepared for how earth-shatteringly good it is to get there. )
I still would.
( Prove himself, assassinate a president, fight entire armies.
Arthur's hands on his face are warm, and Eames smiles at him in a way that is oddly sweet, hands on his waist and a thumb stroking over the notch of his hip bone. He wants to bite him there later, wants to sink his teeth in and leave a mark. He wants to take his time and he wants to rush. It's a terrible conundrum. )
Arthur --. ( A little rough around the edges, mirrored hand sliding up to skate along his ribs, squeeze a pec. Then he becomes more himself, more teasing, more playful. ) - Tell me you have lube in your very nice house, darling. ( A thumb skating over a pert nipple, the edge of his nail scraping tauntingly. ) Otherwise I'm going to have to wander the streets looking for it.
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Date: 2025-09-11 03:37 pm (UTC)Stroking his thumbs across the forger's cheeks, relishing the rasps of stubble, he drinks in the softer look. Positively soaks up how Eames is looking at him as though he's both hung the moon and that he wants to consume him somehow. Arthur can only hope he's reflecting something similar back, because as Eames' big hands settle on his waist, a hunger flares low in his belly. It's spurred on as clever fingers trace the curve of his ribs and give his chest a squeeze, nipples perking at how the teasing brush draws a shiver from him.
Very slightly, he arches into the sensation, sliding his own hands away from Eames' face to skim along the breadth of his shoulders and then down to his pecs. ]
Of course I have lube—[ He starts, with a small laugh, before he transfers some of his weight to reach over to the nightstand. With the open and close of a drawer, he re-settles into his previous spot, bottle of lube in hand. ]—I might be a masochist sometimes, but I don't fuck myself dry.
[ And he'll just let that image percolate. As a follow up, he'll hold the bottle out for Eames to take. ] Here, since you asked. Wanna feel you stretch me out.
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Date: 2025-09-12 04:33 pm (UTC)( It was a prop, and Eames had been dressed like a beautiful woman then, leaning into Arthur's space all fluttering eyelashes and badly cinched bathrobe, taunting him because back in those days it was the only way he could get his attention. Now though, now there's something better at hand, and Eames takes the bottle of lube and folds it in a broad palm to warm it, head ducking upwards to catch the pointman's mouth in his. This kiss is slow, languid, the kind of kiss that gives away all of his earlier yearning. He kisses Arthur like he wants to steal the heart from him, like the use of tongue and teeth and lips might do it. He kisses Arthur until he's breathless, one hand against the hurried rise and fall of his ribcage.
When they pull away he laughs, and it's a delighted thing. It takes some shifting then. He holds Arthur close to his body, propping himself up against the headboard with a hum, the bottle cap loud when he opens it. Even then he still lets the lube sit on his fingers for a moment, grin sweetly mischievous, voice gone sly. )
Don't worry, darling. I know my fingers are big. I'll be careful.
( And he is. He drags his lips gently against a sharp jawline, arm curling around Arthur's waist so he can slide those slick fingers between his asscheeks, lube slippery. One, for now, light and teasing, pressing in slowly against the tight ring of muscle while Eames hums out a singular sound. )
Easy, I've got you.
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Date: 2025-09-12 07:07 pm (UTC)Clearly, they've come a ways since, because as Eames kisses him, he goes into it with a sense of greed. Lets the other man build the kiss with his lips and tongue and the occasional sting of teeth. Arthur loses himself in it, focuses only on how much he wants this, how he can feel something like desperation in each swipe of their tongues. But, it isn't the kind spurred on by dire circumstances or adrenaline, it's a bone-deep need, a spiral of yearning finally being allowed to peek out. By the time Eames pulls away, he's dizzy, flushed a rosy pink to the tips of his ears, and his mouth feels swollen, bruised. Joy blooms behind his ribs as steadily as desire settles in his hips when Eames laughs, the sound completely unfettered.
Loose-limbed, he allows himself to be maneuvered while the forger sits up, one broad hand at the small of his back to keep him close, steady. Lightly, his cock drags against the other man's belly, the friction enough to make him shiver from the sensitivity. ]
You don't have to be that careful, I'm not made of glass. [ Caution should perhaps be observed, since the last time he'd slid a dildo in was a number of weeks ago. Maybe even months. He's just so primed that the slippery push of a single finger feels incredible—Eames' hands really are bigger and broader than his. Something he knew and fantasized about frequently, because despite their thickness, Eames has very dexterous fingers. And he wants so badly to have them rocking in and out of him that one simply isn't enough to scratch the itch.
Head tilted back to give Eames space to kiss his neck, he drops his weight some, hips canted towards the intrusion. ]
Fuck, Eames, give me another. [ Arthur presses his palms to the forger's chest, uses that as leverage to fuck himself slowly on that digit. ] Thought about this before, you know. All because you couldn't stop playing with those stupid poker chips.
[ A habit he'd caught him doing on a job about a year or two into them knowing each other. ]
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Date: 2025-09-13 02:14 pm (UTC)( An old-fashioned cluck of his tongue, Eames' teasing voice directed to the hollow of Arthur's throat as he drags his teeth lightly against his skin. They've known each other for long enough, worked together years now, so of course it feels as though his brain has to pick up like a spark on the command. He draws the first finger out so two can drag along the furled puckered muscle, teasing once, twice, a third time before he does as he's asked and pushes them both in, leaning back to let his dark gaze settle on Arthur's flushing face. )
I knew you were watching. That's why I did it. ( Simultaneously a nervous tic and a vying for attention, his grin sharp as he eases those fingers deeper, higher, stretching them as deep as he can before switching to shallow thrusts. His free hand settles against Arthur's waist, fingertips kneading much like a cat might, thumb over the sharp edge of his hip bone to hold him steady when he fucks his touch back into him. ) You always looked so hungry, Arthur. Do you know how many times I thought about just bending you over the nearest desk and showing you what they could do, mm?
( It is not quite time wasted. He thinks they needed to meander. He was an obnoxious twat in the beginning, mystified by beauty. Now he's spent the hours getting to know Arthur better, he's put in the energy in trying to prove it. It's worked out. He'd wait a century either way, especially for the noise Arthur makes when he gets his fingers deep enough, stroking. )
Christ. ( A little breathless himself. ) If I'd known how nicely you clung to my touch I don't think I'd have ever done any work. Arthur, sweetheart. You're so lovely. Is it good?
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Date: 2025-09-13 03:35 pm (UTC)What's under his skin now, though, is a different burn. And Eames expertly stokes it, the light callouses of his fingertips dragging just right across his hole. Reflexively, he tries to follow the touch, breath stuttering when two fingers finally sink in. It's just to the first knuckle for a few moments before Eames slides them deeper, spreading them up on the inside. Greedy for it, Arthur clenches down, a low moan working its way out of him at the pressure. ]
Fuck, of course you were. Can't believe you thought me a cocktease.
[ Taking the hint from the hand on his waist, he tries to stay mostly still, only giving small shifts of his hips as those thick digits work him open. ] Probably as many times as I wanted to shove you into a chair and ride you raw.
[ An instinct he'd been annoyed by, in the beginning. Gradually, the irritation over it had faded, especially as Eames had shown his competence and strange brand of loyalty. By the time Arthur had felt like he could trust him implicitly, the hunger the forger mentions had grown and he'd been less shy about showing it on his face.
All those thoughts get driven out of his head when Eames' fingertips stroke against his prostate, making his cock jerk, a clear spurt of precome dripping onto the forger's stomach. Arthur's chin tips down, a sound like a whine getting caught in his throat as he grinds his hips down. ]
Stop fishing for compliments, you asshole, of course it's good. [ Gathering some of his wits back, he catches Eames' gaze, a fresh blush crawling across his face when he sees how enraptured those grey-blue eyes are, the obvious interest in his slightly parted lips. Unable to help himself, he leans in for a kiss, biting at that plush lower lip. ] Give me another so I can fit your ridiculous dick.
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Date: 2025-09-13 04:30 pm (UTC)( Smug. Wherever or not his ridiculous dick needs it, he's always had a healthy sense of confidence and he likes this too much to give entirely. Arthur's all sharp teeth and sweet desire and he looks good like this, flushed with a pretty sheen of sweat building at his temples, across his shoulders, down his toned stomach. The forger watches a droplet form, fall, and thinks that next time he'll follow it with his tongue. For now the hand on his hip slides higher, once more thumbing over a pert nipple with a propriety kind of leer alighting Eames' face. He's hard himself, every little twitch of Arthur's body has his cock pressed against an inner thigh, hot and heavy and very much present. But it doesn't quite matter. At least not to him.
He's too busy trying to crack a man wide open. )
I was hoping you'd curse in bed. ( Delivered sweetly as the third finger is added to the play. This time he wastes no time in finding Arthur's prostate again, crooking his fingers deep and dragging them against the bundle of nerves as he does so. ) Though maybe we should worry I might develop some kind of Pavlovian response to it.
( Pop a stiffy the next time Arthur decides to ream him out in the middle of a firefight. His voice goes sly, gaze dragging down the length of Arthur's squirming body as he twists his wrist, starts shallowly fucking him with his fingers, the sound lube an interesting accompaniment. )
All I'll be thinking about is how pretty your cock looks when it wants something.
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Date: 2025-09-14 05:37 am (UTC)Like my filthy mouth, do you? [ His breathing goes a little funny on that last syllable, the feel of three fingers stretching his rim enough to add a delicious kind of burn. Each press eases it as well as adds to it, Eames' clever fingertips stroking his prostate without mercy. Letting out a long, loud moan, he shifts his hips, trying to get more of that friction and enjoying the secondary sensation of Eames' trapped cock dragging on the inside of his thigh. Sliding his hands up, he clings to the forger's shoulders, blunt nails digging in when Eames turns his wrist, lube making a slick sound as he fucks his fingers in and out. Arthur pushes up on his knees just a bit to help, hips dropping down with every push inwards. ] Fuck, fuck, like that.
[ It's not quite enough to get him all the way off, but it adds gasoline to the flame. With an equally sly smirk: ] Only how pretty my cock is, Mr. Eames? A bit shallow of you.
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Date: 2025-09-14 03:16 pm (UTC)( He's hot, an inferno burning under the skin. Eames feels it licking up his fingers, along his shoulders where Arthur is holding on to him, the heat from his body a well-tended fire. He's sweating himself, can sense it along his hairline, like his body is honed with anticipation. Maybe it is, maybe it's always been. Maybe the two of them have forever been hurtling down this road, too fast, too wild for anything but the eventual collide. He likes it either way.
Likes too, the way Arthur's cock jumps when he finally drags his fingertips up the flushed length, smile showing a hint of a canine as he drags that calloused thumb over the slick flushed head. He holds Arthur's gaze when he lifts it away again, tongue darting out to lick at the lingering precome. Then he makes his expression innocent, sweet, dragging his fingers almost all the way out so only the tips are holding him open. )
What? You already had a taste. Fair's fair.
( And then, offhand. )
Do we need protection, Arthur?
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Date: 2025-09-14 04:46 pm (UTC)[ Arthur is a man of extremes, despite how collected his demeanor was normally. He works hard, plays hard, and in this case, has sex with total abandon. Because it's easy to lose himself in the push and pull of Eames' fingers, watching the effect he has on the other man. Watching the sweat bead at his temples and in the hollows of his collarbones. It makes him want to bend at an impossible angle, just so he could lick the perspiration right off his skin, from neck all the way down.
Instead, he's distracted by the light drag of Eames' fingertips along the curve of his cock, a breath stuttering out of him when his thumb swipes across the sensitive head, collecting some of the fluid that's pooled in the slit. Tongue darting out, Eames licks up the precome he'd gathered, normally light eyes darkening with arousal and promise. The three digits stretching him open slide almost all the way out, leaving him feeling a bit empty. With no sense of shame, he crashes their mouths together, a groan catching in his throat when he tastes himself in the kiss. At the same time, he drops his weight more, trying to chase the filling thickness of Eames' fingers again. ]
No complaints. [ He says with a grin, licking his lips. Continuing to tease: ] Too impatient for four, huh?
[ There's very little hesitation when it comes to the other man's question. Being prepared is kind of his whole thing. ]
I'm clean. And unless you've forged your recent blood records, which I doubt— [ Since Eames was rarely in the habit of lying to him, especially in things that were particularly important. ] —then I think we could forgo it.
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Date: 2025-09-15 12:35 pm (UTC)No, darling. I'm clean. It hasn't exactly been at the forefront of my mind. Settling.
( Because that's what it would be, had he chosen to sleep with someone else. Something he didn't quite exactly want, a lesser approximation. He's a little too old and set in his ways for that now, keeps himself busy because the want is so specifically directed. It means he refocuses all of his efforts in fucking Arthur's hole with his fingers, a little gust of a laugh puffed out as he searches for the discarded lube, clumsy with his own desire. )
How do you feel, mm? ( Fingers against his prostrate again, his lips dragging along the curve of a jaw. Lube located, he makes a pleased little sound against skin, leans back until they're looking at each other again, touch dragging once more firmly before he pulls free entirely. ) Ready for me, Arthur?
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Date: 2025-09-16 01:49 pm (UTC)Gasping as his prostate is touched firmly, he clenches around Eames' knuckles, cock jumping at the focused stimulation. More precome leaks, dripping onto the forger's stomach. ]
I feel like I need you to fuck me right now. [ If cracking him wide open had been his aim, Eames certainly was getting close, because his expression is eager, honest when he tilts back to meet the other man's gaze. Remembering he's got his dick trapped along his thigh, Arthur unseats himself from Eames' hips, instead settling next to him. ]
C'mere, like this. [ He says, spreading his legs as he watches Eames slick his cock up. ]
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Date: 2025-09-18 03:09 pm (UTC)( All run-on, almost slurred with how intent he is. They shift to make space, Eames directing them both so the thick blunt head of his dick can press against tight muscle. )
Just breathe.
( Advice he will not take himself, sadly, chest hitching when he breaches just past Arthur's entrance, his blood rushing in his ears, pulse pounding. He's tight, even with his careful administrations, tight and warm and desperately sinful. ) Fuck. H-ha. Arthur. You're so --. Come on, love. There we go. Just a little more.
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Date: 2025-09-18 04:07 pm (UTC)Despite the preparation, the lube, and the searing desire under his skin, it's still a tight fit as Eames starts to feed his dick in. It takes more than a moderate amount of his willpower to remain steady instead of grabbing hold of the other man's shoulders and shoving his hips down to slide him in with one motion. ]
Fuck—[ Arthur tips his head back, breathing out a long stream of air. Hips tilting, he forces himself to relax, a low moan catching in his throat as he feels Eames sink in further and eventually bottom out, groin pressed flush to his ass. That thought, along with the stretch and heavy sensation of being filled up is enough to make him flush from head to toe.
Overwhelmed in the best way, he rolls his hips, squeezing around Eames and eyes fluttering from how good it feels. ]
Jesus fuck, Eames, please move. [ He says, a bit desperate, as he reaches out to curve a hand along the forger's shoulder. ]
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Date: 2025-09-19 03:41 pm (UTC)( His voice comes winded, like everything in him is winched too tight. That might be because Arthur is a scalding vice around his cock, and Eames is fairly certain there's not a single coherent thought left rattling around in his own skull. So his hands move, settle on the other man's waist, hips rolling in a sinuous shift upwards. It is not quite what he's been asked, but then again Eames does like to tease, and Arthur is so pretty like this. )
Like this? ( Sly, pleased, still shaken himself. ) Ah, no. You like a wilder ride.
( It's easy to keep Arthur where he wants him, hands guiding his hips down just as Eames rolls his up. The breath it knocks out of him is ragged, too pleased, stutters along the other man's collarbone when Eames leans in to drag his teeth there. It gives him a minute, lets him gather himself, and then he's shucking his feet higher up on the bed so he can thrust upwards, a wild laugh escaping him. )
Christ, that feels good. You feel good.
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Date: 2025-09-20 12:24 am (UTC)Those big hands curve to his waist and Eames shifts a bit, an insufficient tease. Arthur huffs, the heel pressed to the bed attempting to drag his hips further down. ]
Tease. [ He snipes, without any real heat. ] Yeah, come on, get on with it.
[ Said on the tail end of a gasp, as Eames pulls him by the hips onto his cock as he thrusts in. Gasping at the motion and the graze of teeth, he hooks his other leg around the forger's hips, thigh muscles flexing as he grinds onto his dick. ]
Feels so good, so hot in me—[ He sighs out a moan, a breathy laugh hiccuping out of him at the next jolt of his hips. ]—can't fucking believe I waited this long to take your ridiculous cock.
[ Is it really? Possibly not, but it sure feels that way currently, with the insistent roll of Eames' hips. ]
Why did we wait this long again?
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Date: 2025-09-20 01:06 pm (UTC)( A thrust. )
Ego? ( Another, this time a helpless laugh, teeth catching on the curve of Arthur's jaw, a tease. ) An elaborate way of proving oneself, mm? ( Maybe the last one is the truest one. Eames knows that Arthur is careful, he's precise, he has to account for a whole series of variables, he has to make sure all eventuality has been accounted for. Eames wouldn't have trusted the man he was in the beginning either. So he doesn't mind the meandering path. Not if it means he gets this. So he makes sure to grind their hips together in a slow, filthy press, lets his breath ghost against a collarbone. )
I'm very willing to keep doing the latter, Arthur. If it means I get this. I'll be - h-ha - at your service, as it were.
( Playful, but there's a ring of truth in it. He'd do whatever the other man asked just for a chance at this again. Even if he doesn't think there's going to be anything that could separate them now. He wants this. He wants Arthur in whatever form he can have him, and if he has to keep him sated and happy to keep it then he'll dedicate himself to task. It suits him perfectly well. )
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Date: 2025-10-04 07:42 am (UTC)With Eames, he'd needed to be certain. In their early days, he hadn't been able to read the forger all to well. And then when he gradually developed the skill, well, he'd thought the other man much too flighty, too absorbed in the superficial. To his dismay, it hadn't stopped him from wanting Eames' hands all over his body. Or kept him from thinking of what sex with him would be like.
Something he now knows, what with the forger off to a great start of fucking him into the mattress. Both thrusts slide across his prostate, making his breath stutter, short nails from one hand digging into Eames' broad shoulder. Then that cock is pressing deep, just how he likes it, and he gives a filthy roll of his hips, squeezing around him. The added friction makes him moan loudly, eyes fluttering shut. ]
Oh, fuck, Eames, like that, yeah. [ Letting go of his thigh, he runs his fingers through the forger's short hair, palm coming to cup the back of his neck. ] I don't—ah—need elaborate displays, you know.
[ Despite his love of designer clothing, he's really a simple man at heart. What they've got right now is enough. More than, really, as he indulges in the feel of Eames' heavier weight against him, the heat of his body, how every grind of his hips seems to open him up further and get them that much closer. ]
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Date: 2025-10-06 02:29 pm (UTC)( It comes playfully enough, his words a hum pitched low. He can't help himself, not really. There's something about their give and take that deserves space in the bedroom. He adds more fuel to the fire by dragging his teeth along a pale shoulder, humming once before snapping his hips forward just in case Arthur thinks he's playing around. ) Besides, you like it.
( It's easy to fall into a rhythm, one hand shifting to hook around Arthur's thigh and draw it higher around his waist, the other man's cock heavy between them. He can feel it brush skin with every thrust, leaking and hot. A part of him thinks to take him in hand, but there's something good about this too, fingertips leaving their mark wherever Eames' touch falls. They're a sweating mess, slick with it, and the roll of their bodies gets louder with every turn, Eames burying a laugh in Arthur's throat. )
Darling.
( A groan, plush lips dragging back along his jaw to kiss him again, slow and languid in comparison to his thrust. )
You feel fucking unreal, Arthur. Christ. I'm never giving this up, do you hear me? You're mine now, alright?