artfulforger | Ships Passing: The fallout of falling in to bed

In truth, Eames still wasn't sure how it had gone this way. He'd never had anyone call him that before and yet when Arthur said that, called him daddy, he was just lost. Eager and excited. Like he was in that moment. Everything in him seemed to tighten, making him achingly hard.

"I think he should, and he should ask nicely," he growled, bucking his hips up as he swatted at the curve of Arthur's ass.

Arthur had never even considered that calling Eames 'daddy' would make him feel and make him want to do. He groaned softly and pressed back into his hand. "Yeah," he asked with a breathy sigh before licking at his lips and looking at Eames with darkening eyes.

His cheeks were flushed as he spoke, "will you spank me, daddy? Please?"

“Look how eager you are,” he growled, lips twitching to curve into a smile. God, but Arthur like this was intoxicating and downright sexy. Sexier than the forger had already found the pointman that he’d thought was out of his chances for so many years.

“Such a needy boy,” he teased, though the age difference wasn’t that much between them. This wasn’t about age though but so much more. “Maybe I should put you over my knee to make this easier,” he murmured, lightly raking his nails over the small of Arthur’s back.

Arthur wasn't the only one. Eames, like this, was intoxicating in of itself. The growls, the words...pretty much everything about the forger was making his body feel a little too hot, too tight and yet not nearly enough.

He licked his lips and nodded his head, feeling his ears burn. "Mm, maybe you should," he murmured and looked at him. It wasn't about their differences in age at all. It was -- trusting Eames this much to do something like this. To trust Eames to take care of him and give him what he needed -- that he didn't even recognize that he needed until the other night.

"Please, daddy..."

That was all it took. He asked please. Moving suddenly, pushing Arthur off his lap and catching him so that he stood. "That's it, boy," he growled, eyes narrowing to mere slits. "But you'd better drop your pants first. Just the trousers, leave on whatever's underneath. Need to make this last," he said, looking Arthur over so slow, groaning at the man before him.

"And then bend yourself over my lap," he said, didn't ask.

A shiver slid down Arthur's spine as he stood on slightly wobbly legs. Keeping his gaze on Eames', Arthur moved his hands to his sweat pants and slid them down and off of his hips. He was left in only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

It took barely any time for Arthur to bend himself over Eames' lap. his arms resting on the couch cushion and biting on his bottom lip in anticipation.

Eames didn't look away. Hell, he didn't even want to blink as he watched Arthur move. His gaze slid down though, watching the brush of sweats down his legs before slowly traveling back up. Even before he could think to speak, Arthur was laying himself over Eames' lap.

"My god, you're such a good boy," he groaned, loving that Arthur was as into this as he was. His hand caressed one cheek before pausing. The blow came swift and sudden to one side.

Arthur groaned softly at his words and shifted on his lap a little as Eames caressed a cheek. "Just for you, daddy," he said, huskily as he looked back at Eames with a smirk and dark eyes. Course now, he couldn't help but wonder about being 'bad' for Eames. Regardless of where his mind went, he gasped at the swat and bit on his bottom lip. Oh.

"Damn right just for me," he groaned, that single word enough to make him writhe where he sat. "Never plan to make you want for another," he said, thinking about Arthur as he was in the warehouse. Straight laced, a bit uptight, powerful in a subtle way. Here though he was writhing and calling Eames daddy and he was pretty damn sure if they carried it on long enough, he could get off just from that.

"Mine," he said, swatting one cheek and then the other.

Arthur was certain that he could never do something like this with just anyone else. He only wanted Eames to make him feel this way, to not have to be in control, to reveal a side to him that he hadn't even known was there and trust him enough to take care of him or to stop if or when Arthur wanted him to stop.

"Yours," he agreed with a groan, shifting and searching for something -- some kind of friction. "Harder, daddy -- please."

He loved how Arthur writhed, the eager way he worked to try and get more from their games. It meant so much that Arthur trusted him, yet was still there for him in those moments of panic when he'd returned that morning.

Another swat, giving it to him hard just like he asked. All because he said please. Two quick against one cheek, moaning with each hit that wwrmed his palm. "You love that, don't you, Boy?"

Once Eames started swatting his ass harder as he had asked, all the other thoughts in Arthur's mind were suddenly not as important as this, right here and right now. He groaned and whimpered at the sensations that were coursing through him from the pain and ache from his bottom and yet how good that felt as well in that way that pain and pleasure can feel.

He nodded, his breath caught in his throat. Fuck yes, he loved it. And oh, it would hurt to sit down in the morning, of that he had no doubt.

Setting up a steady rhythm, one cheek and then the other. Once more showing he knew what he was doing, being as careful as he could not to hurt Arthur more than he found pleasurable. And by those sounds he was making, he was loving it.

The next blow was a bit softer, but came down on the back of his thighs, testing to see if he liked that.

As Eames continued swatting him, Arthur writhed and pressed into his thigh - wanting and needing more. He was getting so fucking hard, harder than he imagined that he would be while someone -- while Eames spanked him.

Arthur gasped at the blow to the back of his thighs and groaned. "Eames," he whimpered. "Daddy -- please," he wanted Eames to fuck him.

Another sharp swat to his thighs and then he rubbed the mark. He was going to go fucking insane just from this, especially with the way Arthur sounded so damn sinful when he said that.

"Please what?" Oh he knew and he wanted it too but damned if he wasn't going to ask.

He bit on his bottom lip, undoubtedly his cheeks were flushed red and he couldn't help but shift against Eames' thigh. "Fuck me," he said, huskily and pressed back against his hand.

Oh but it was pretty when he said it like that, his tone rough and rich like that. His hand caressed the curve of Arthur's ass. "Tell me, Boy. Should I bend you over the coffee table or the back of the couch?"

Arthur hummed and shifted underneath his hand, his bottom feeling red and sore all over. "Couch, daddy," he said, glancing back at him.

"Oh fucking hell," he growled, shifting to give him another hard, wicked slap. "Move it then. Put yourself over the back and let me see how bad you want it, you slut," he growled, pausing even as the word came out, not having thought about it. For a moment the mask dropped, worrying showing in his eyes.

Arthur gasped at the sharp slap and bit off a soft whimper. A shudder slid throughout his entire body at Eames' words and bit on his bottom lip, slowly sitting up from his position to look at him. He was a little in shock by the word but if he looked shocked, it didn't compare to the worry in Eames' eyes. Arthur didn't like seeing that look. Instead, he pressed his lips to Eames' in a hard and deep kiss. They both knew he wasn't a slut and that it was just a game. To be honest, Arthur hadn't gotten any less hard than he was just moments ago.

Until that kiss, he wouldn't have been the least bit shocked if Arthur had told him to get the fuck out. And if he had, Eames would have had no one to blame but himself. Even as he kissed him, Eames found himself clutching at the other man, pulling him close as he slid his strong arms around him. Until that moment, until the fear he had fucked up everything they were building - and a fear he hadn't entirely had when he hadn't shown up the morning after - he hadn't realized just how deep he'd let himself get. Now he knew.

"I... Fuck," he whispered, the intonation on that single word so different than when he normally was holding the naked point man. Genuine emotion and care tinged his words. "I don't think of you that way," he whispered, nuzzling the corner of his mouth.

Arthur groaned softly and pressed in closer against Eames' chest and deepened the kiss. He hadn't realized just how deep this had gotten for him either -- how worried and upset he was about Eames (and about them) when Eames hadn't called after that night, how much he trusted Eames to be here with him in his home, how much he hated seeing the worry and fear in Eames' eyes and would do anything to make it go away. He pulled back from Eames' lips and licked at his bottom lip.

"I know you don't," he whispered and nuzzled the corner of his mouth. "Fuck, I know, Eames," he whispered and kissed along his jaw, just pressing in close.

Strong hands smoothed over Arthur's back, as much to soothe the other man as himself. Eager to help ease them back to... not even to where they were but not to being upset. Turned on as he was, fucking Arthur wasn't the ultimate goal. His own pleasure wasn't even the goal. Making them both love it, that was what mattered to him.

"Good. Damn. I'm glad," he whispered, nuzzling and kissing and refusing to let go. "Won't happen again, Baby. I swear."

He hummed and slid his hands over Eames' chest as he pressed against him. He wasn't upset, not really. He was more startled and surprised by anything. Arthur nuzzled and kissed along Eames' neck slowly, biting down before sucking on the skin soothingly. "I trust you, Eames," he murmured and raised his gaze to look at him, openly and honestly. "I was a little surprised," he admitted. "But, I also figured it was just a part of our game."

Not letting him go was one of the best things Eames could have done because Arthur didn't want him to unwrap his arms from him. There was just...something about being in his arms that Arthur liked. A lot.

He needed this. Not just in that moment when he worried about his words and what effect they might have but in the grand scheme of their few days. This was more than sex and roleplay. At least for him, and he suspected given the truth Arthur was giving him, the same for the pointman as well.

"I won't do it again. Soon as I said it," he whispered. "It didn't sound right. Not about you. You're so much more than a fuck."

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