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

The more Arthur thought about it, considered it and looked at the situation on all sides, he knew they would be careful and mindful of those around them. They hadn't gotten to where they were by being lazy and flippant.

His lips curled up and laced his fingers together with Eames. He was full now and as such, he moved in closer and leaned against Eames' side. Arthur found that it was easier to curl up next to Eames than he would have ever thought it would be perhaps. It was nice, for once, that someone just truly wanted to be here with him and not because he was the point man and could fix anything should the problem arise. "No one has said that to me before," he admitted, softly. "That you wanted to call me because of just me and not because you needed my help." It didn't mean he wouldn't offer his services should Eames need it but it was nice that it wasn't the only reason.

Life changed. That was the story of their lives. No one started out in dream share. No one started out a criminal. No one that Eames had ever known knew from the time they were a child that this was the life they wanted or would seek out. They all found themselves here and the ones that lasted were the ones that adapted. Finding themselves in this relationship, staying as quiet as they needed to be and making it work, that was part of changing and adapting as well. A part that Eames was actually looking forward to.

Eames chuckled. “It wasn’t fun but I had it handled. I just… When it was done, I wanted to be with you, like this,” he admitted, sighing heavily and content with being there next to him. “Somewhere I felt safe, who would tell me if I was a fucking moron at the same time,” he said with a small laugh. “You should have heard that before me though,” he murmured softly. “You’ve let people treat you like shit.” And by people he means Cobb. Lets have no mistake about that.

He was glad that Eames felt safe with him. He felt much the same way when it came to the forger as well. There wasn't anywhere that he would rather be sometimes than here with him. 'Here' was general, of course. It didn't matter where they were, he just wanted to be with Eames. "Now you're here," he said and rested a hand on the forger's thigh.

Arthur knew exactly who Eames meant by people. There had only been one person that Arthur allowed to treat him like that and that was Cobb. It was amazing, and sad really, what guilt would do to a person. After the other night, after he had put away a third of tequila and some vodka, Arthur knew it had to stop. Eames being there and talking sense helped as well. It wasn't as though Arthur had only taken jobs with Cobb during the last two years but he had been quite the fixture in Arthur's life. Sometimes, enough was just enough and he had made it to that point.

"I know," he said. And he did. It had been his own fault but in the end, he was correcting that mistake. Better late than never, right? "Once this is done, it's over," he murmured. Honestly, Arthur was a little annoyed with himself that he had allowed it to continue for as long as it had. If he never had to see Cobb again for years to come, he would be okay with that.

"You know that here is with you and now this swag apartment right," he asked, allowing a grin to show. Leave it to Eames to not be able to go too long with the series without cracking a joke. If he didn't make the laugh, even a bad one, then he risked worrying Arthur in one way or another but he wasn't taking that chance.

"If I ever start treating you like shit, I want you to kick me in the arse. You understand me," he said, arching a brow. "I don't want to be like one of those arseholes in your life." Like the one he had to be polite to and not tell to fuck off.

Despite himself, Arthur chuckled.

Leave it to Eames. "Swag," he repeated with an amused smirk. "I'm not sure whether to be more surprised that you know that word or that you actually used it." Course, to counter all the joking, Arthur had to give his own in return. It was the natural order of things after all. He pressed a kiss to Eames' neck before he leaned forward and started gathering all the food together.

"Trust me, I won't hesitate to kick your ass," he shot Eames a sideways look. "He's not going to be in my life for very much longer."

"Hey, have you seen my wardrobe," he asked, arching a brow. "I'm all about the swag," he teased, leaning in against Arthur once more as he moved forward. "Cleaning up? There's the Arthur everyone thinks you are," he teased.

"You're just thinking about my arse now, aren't you," he teased, smiling as he sat back on the couch, half sprawled. "I know. And if he won't go quietly, I'll persuade him."

"I have and I still find it atrocious," he said, sending Eames an amused and teasing grin. Though it fit the forger in a way that it could only be said for Eames. On anyone else, it would look hideous but Arthur always figured there was something more to it than merely wearing tweed and salmon pink (or the infamous purple skull shirt).

"I wouldn't have such a swag apartment if I kept food laying about," he grinned before he stood and put away the leftovers. Once he returned, he looked over the sprawled man on his couch and couldn't help looking him over. "I am thinking about your ass, yes," Arthur smirked. He nodded, knowing Eames had his back, especially about this.

"Is that what this is," he asked with a grin. "Trying to get me out of a wardrobe you find horrendous," he asked, arching a brow. "I knew it had a goal beyond having my amazing body nude," he said, shaking his head and tsking sadly.

"You're never going to let that word go, are you?" He asked it as a question but he knew the truth. The answer was nope, never. "Well that's good, I'm thinking about yours. Does it still have hand prints?"

"You've figured out my master plan," Arthur said dryly. "This means only one thing; I have to follow through now." He tried to keep a straight face but he couldn't help the smirk that broke out on his lips and his chuckle.

"You know the answer to that." Course he wasn't going to let it go. He'd bring it up whenever he possibly could, as he and Eames both knew quite well. He paused about the part about hand prints and his ass and cleared his throat, taking his seat next to Eames. "You have to check that one for yourself," he said, looking at him - hoping that he would.

Deep down some part of him believed it might be part of Arthur’s plan. Not to get him naked, but to coordinate things better than Eames did. One day he’d need to explain that he dressed the way he did for a reason. It did well in getting him underestimated which was, in the end, more useful than most might imagine.

Sitting back on the sofa, sprawling and taking up as much room as possible, he grinned. “Least I didn’t say your ass was swag,” he teased. “It is but I didn’t say it.”

A brow arched just before his eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge?”

It wasn't really Arthur's plan in the least to coordinate Eames' wardrobe. He may tease, quip and say things about it (and perhaps lead to the destruction of particularly horrible shirts) but he wasn't attempting to change Eames -- or his taste.

Arthur chuckled when Eames sprawled out even more and raised his eyebrows at him. "Trying to get me back on your lap," he asked as Eames sprawled out even more. He didn't wait for an answer before he shifted and moved back onto Eames' lap. If Eames didn't want him there, he figured he could move him.

"Challenge, invitation..."

Eames had no worries with Arthur. He obviously liked him enough to have him here, in his private home, and knowing him possibly better than anyone. He was finding he truly enjoyed this time.

"You want to be there, I'm just making it easy," he said, sounding much more confident than he had since he'd shown up at the warehouse earlier.

"See? You do want to be on my lap. Easiest way to get to your ass."

Honestly, Arthur was glad to hear the confidence in Eames' words again and to hear him teasing around. "Is that what you're doing," he asked with a smirk, settling onto him and sliding a hand over Eames' neck.

"And you can't deny that you love me being on your lap," he said, looking at him.

It was -- fuck, Arthur was finding that he really did enjoy being on Eames' lap and to have his arms wrapped around him. Not only that but he enjoyed the company and the precious time they could spare to spend time alone. Who knew what the rest of this job would bring them but if there was one thing he felt he could count on, it was Eames to be there through it all and at the very end of it.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know,” he said, smirking at the point man. Sure his eyes were still a bit haunting but he could overcome it. With time and moments like this, he would get beyond it all. Eventually. “I wouldn’t even try and deny it. A sexy and wicked creature such as yourself perched on my lap,” he asked, arching a brow as his hand settled at the small of Arthur’s back. “Damn right I love it.

“Like you like you were the other night too,” he growled, trying to put what he’d been through behind him. Not to mention the guilt he felt for putting Arthur through much the same as well. “You do look good like this, you know.” His hand stroked down to rest against the curve of his ass.

Arthur knew it would take time for Eames to fully recover from what he went through the evening before and all Arthur could do is continue doing what he did and be there for Eames if he needed him. He chuckled and ducked his head slightly before looking at him with a smirk. "No, I do love being on your lap," he admitted and knew Eames knew that as well. He didn't exactly try to hide it.

His eyes darkened at Eames' growl and his words, licking at his lips. "So, will you spank me again then," he asked in a seductive whisper, in Eames' ear. He smirked. "I know." Least he figured he did since Eames obviously enjoyed it as much as he did.

Damn but Arthur was even better than Eames though. Better because he was doing exactly what it was that the forger needed to try and start on that road to recovering, and he was doing it in a way that Eames couldn't ignore. Maybe with someone else, but not with Arthur. Not with Arthur looking the way he did, all sleek and sexy and damned hotter than anyone had a right to be.

"That all depends," he said, voice rich with desire as he fixed Arthur with an impish look. "It depends," he continued before Arthur might ask. "In how you ask."

Arthur pressed in closer to Eames' chest and slid his hands over the man's shoulders. "Is that right," he asked, licking his lips. he was pretty certain he knew just how Eames meant and he silently debated with himself about asking for that now or in a little bit. With that day that Eames and they had...he didn't really want to wait. It was still something he was getting used to but...after saying it last time and realizing not only what it did for him but what it did for Eames -- Christ, it was phenomenal. It was, admittedly, something he thought about the night before.

"Should I ask my daddy to spank me then," he asked, his voice becoming thicker and lower, tilting his head to look at him from underneath lowered lashes.

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.

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