Date: 2025-09-20 01:06 pm (UTC)
plagiary: (xxviii.)
From: [personal profile] plagiary
Delayed gratification?

( 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. )

Date: 2025-10-06 02:29 pm (UTC)
plagiary: (xlvii.)
From: [personal profile] plagiary
But I'm so good at them.

( 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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