seeorseem | (no subject)

This is new and a particular shade of not good that Eames has very rarely considered before. In his time, he's forged men, women, beings of no gender at all, aliens, and an array of animals in order to get inside a mark's head and find their secrets. What he has not done is lost all his clothes as he wandered into Arthur's room at the hotel and found himself in a simplistic mind-set that's only concerned with a few things.

Play being one of them, food another, and affection a third.

He lets out a sad whine as he tries to adjust his mind and remember what movement as an animal is like. There are four legs to account for instead of the usual two and as Eames trots into the room, tail wagging (because he's still very happy to see Arthur), he thinks that this hotel is practically forger academy, forcing him to learn how to work and walk in other forms while in reality.

He should increase his rates. His skills are getting quite the workout.

Settling his chin on Arthur's knee, he gives another plaintive dog-cry, peering up at him with eyes he hopes are every bit as forlorn as he's intending them to be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Arthur smiles and reaches for a condom with his free hand, not withdrawing his fingers from Eames yet.

He's clean and monogamous, but he also tends to assume it's wanted rather than not.

Eames gives the condom a look of disappointment, but he doesn't protest because he hasn't exactly been tested himself and he knows that giving Arthur an STD isn't exactly a very lovely gift. "I love you filling me up," he half-purrs. "It's, honestly, wonderful."

Arthur raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't relent. It's practicality, but also that lingering uncertainty of who they are to each other. What they are.

He eases in, forgetting his trepidations in that look on Eames' face. "You look very good, sprawled out beneath me."

Eames laughs, low and lazy. "Dear, I look good in any manner," is his wry smirked reply, stretching out and getting comfortable as he cocks his head to the side, waiting and waiting, basking in the pleasurable feeling rolling over him.

"And so humble," Arthur says, affecting the tone of someone using flattery to avoid a bruised ego. Keeping himself upright with one arm, Arthur's other hand slides up Eames' body until his fingertips are playing over his mouth again.

He parts his lips to make sure he can trap those wayward fingers with a bright smile bursting forth on his lips, somewhat contrary to what they're doing, but this has always filled him with an innate sense of joy that's hard to shake off. "I am, at that."

Arthur plays his fingers over Eames' mouth, watching his face as he bottoms out, settles inside him. His hips shake, betraying his control.

Eames nips lightly at the fingers, grinning like an idiot as he bucks his hips upwards, trying to urge Arthur to go deeper than before, wanting that more than anything, which he hopes to get across with a low, eager moan.

The sound thrills through him and Arthur begins to move in earnest, hips not quite snapping. Yet.

Eames is quickly beginning to lose most of his dashing charm, which is what he'd like to call his charisma (though he knows Arthur might beg to differ). Rather than focusing on a retort, he instead lets out a pleased moan, eyes falling shut as he gives in to sensation rather than witty repartee.

Arthur smiles, looking wickedly pleased as he pushes Eames' knees back, letting him go deeper and harder, as he watches his face.

There's very little to do but reach down and wrap his hand around his cock to begin stroking in slow, steady movements, because with Arthur pushing into him, testing his flexibility, it's only a matter of time until he comes and he's perilously close now, to the degree that he's ready to loosen up and start to let go and simply give himself over.

Arthur shakes his head and bats Eames' hand away, replacing it with his own an stroking him in time with his own thrusts. He could push now, but he finds himself curious. Is Eames the kind to ask or to give in? He wants to see.

Eames lets out a sharp sound of disappointment, but it's not to be long lived as Arthur appears to be just as willing and eager to contribute. He smiles, slow and content, and gives a pleased smirk as he lets out a breathless and soft gasp. "Soon, Arthur," he promises. "So soon."

Arthur thrusts in again, leaning down close to Eames' ear. "I want to see it," his voice is low, nearly a growl.

"Good," is Eames' breathless reply, given that he doesn't think he can hold out much longer and he's proven right as he comes within moments of that word, rocking up against Arthur's hand and thrusting against his cock to try and elicit a similar reaction in him.

It's hard to stroke him through it when Eames is doing such distracting things with his hips. Eventually, Arthur abandons the notion altogether and grabs each of Eames's hands, twining their fingers and gripping tightly as he buries himself as he comes.

Eames lets out a happy sigh, leaning up to try and steal a kiss after Arthur is through, as if he wants to prolong this as long as he might, greedy and eager for more even if his body is sated and ready for sleep. "Wonderful," he murmurs happily with a long sigh. "Absolutely perfect."

It's a struggle to pull out but he does, tying off the condom and throwing it away before rejoining Eames for another lazy kiss.

"Yeah. Yes it was."