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

He had thought he'd ruined things, but Eames realized even after all he'd done, it would take more than what he'd done to ruin whatever this was. It was new, and raw at times, but neither of them were the sort to let things just vanish. Not if they had a choice, and in this they both had as much desire to keep it going as they had to lose.

Eames had no desire to lose. Not now.

Which was why he was glad so much they desired truly did measure up. Like their desires. He gave another slap, a sharp slap to one cheek out of his desire.

"I want you, Arthur. Like we were talking about."

It was certainly going to take a lot more to detour them away from this, from what they were discovering with each other and about each other. Arthur had no intention to lose this either if he could help him and he was a stubborn bastard in the best and worst times.

Arthur bucked into his hand and nodded. "I want it too," he mumbled and lifted his head to look at Eames before slowly slipping off of his lap and moving around the couch, folding his arms along the back and spreading his legs. "Please, Eames," he whispered into his ear, before nibbling at the lobe. "Fuck me."

Despite all of his in depth emotions, he was suddenly at a lost. God but that lean, sexy body all laid out for him, offering himself to.

"Arthur, I swear you'll be the death of me like that," he said, moving quickly to grab the small bottle of lube.

A moment later his fingers brushed over the tight pucker, teasing at him with a grin. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Arthur? I know that sounds cheesy but it's true."

A small little smirk tugged on Arthur's lips at Eames' reaction. Now that was addicting. "Well," he drawled out slowly with a smile. "You did just mention that I'll be the death of --," he inhaled when he felt Eames' fingers brush over his hole and groaned. His ass felt hot and sore and the coolness of the lube was a good contrast to that.

"Mm, enlighten me," he asked, pressing back into those fingers.

This would never get old for Eames. Not with Arthur. Even if after the job ended and they went their separate ways, he would still be jacking off to the memories of this. The sound of Arthur's moans, the way he moved, the eagerness with which he pushed back for his touch.

"If by enlighten you mean..." He slid one finger in, not even barely taking time before he was working the second. It revealed his own eagerness, he knew.

Arthur groaned when Eames slid his finger inside and worked in a second soon after. This was something that Arthur would never tire of and of that he was certain. He bit on his bottom lip as he pressed back and clenched down around his fingers with a soft whimper. "Mm, that -- definitely that," he mumbled as his hands clenched the fabric of the couch.

Despite the way he was pushing them ahead, wanting him too much to wait too long, he watched Arthur keenly. The way he moved, the expression of his face that he could see. Eames felt so highly attuned to Arthur in that moment, noting the sounds, his breathing. Everything about the man as he scissored his fingers, pumping them quickly.

"My boy," he whispered, slapping one cheek.

With every thrust of Eames' fingers and every scissor of them, Arthur's breathing hitched as he moaned softly. Everything felt so hot and so tight, all his nerves felt like they were singing and fuck, he couldn't get enough.

He nodded, a shiver sliding through his body at his whispered words. "Daddy, please," he mumbled, clenching around his fingers. Arthur just wanted to feel him slide in and fuck him.

Arthur was responsive and sexy and he made Eames feel sexier than he ever had. He felt manly and sensual and wicked and he loved it. Loved fucking his ass with dick or fingers. Loved kissing him and touching him and damned but he loved that sweet, sweet heat of spanking his ass.

The moment he asked, asked with that name, he instantly slid his fingers out. Pouring fresh lube on his hand, he slicked himself up. A moment later he was pushing into him, one hand on his hip and the other guiding himself into him with a low groan.

Arthur bit back a groan when Eames slide his fingers from him but couldn't hold it in any longer once the forger started pushing into him. "Fuck," he practically whimpered and pressed back against him.

Truth be told, Arthur felt rather amazing and sexy right now himself. To know that Eames was this turned on from kissing, touching, spanking and talking dirty to him was empowering and even addicting on some level.

There was no one else that Eames had ever had time like this with. No one he had ever kissed and nuzzled, and done much more with than just fuck and enjoy. No, there had been a few girls, but his life with guys had usually been temporary and passed rather quickly.

He was damn well hoping this wouldn't.

"My beautiful boy," he moaned, pushing slow and steady. He hadn't done enough and even though it had been a day, he wouldn't risk Arthur. Not that much. Not that quick.

Because Eames hadn't taken enough time to prepare him and Arthur had been greedy, it burned and ached a little but he didn't care. Nothing mattered except this. Well, course it would probably matter a little more in the morning when Arthur found it difficult to sit down comfortably but right now, none of that mattered.

"Yours," he mumbled with a soft groan, forcing himself to stop and just relax around Eames' dick.

His.

He nearly choked on that. Pausing, eyes closing as his hand caressed along Arthur's hip. "My god, you're such a perfect perfect man," he sighed, moving to push back into him once more.

He was so tight, almost dry to the point of hurting but he didn't care. He was happy to have Arthur.

Bottoming out, he slapped his ass once more.

"You're biased," Arthur groaned and pressed back against him as he tightened his fingers in the couch and bit down on his bottom lip. Fuck.

"Fuck, Eames," he whimpered, clenching down around Eames in response to the spanking. A rush of heat and want slid through him.

“Want more, don’t you,” he asked in a low whisper, leaning down as he pushed just that bit deeper to pressing a soft kiss between Arthur’s shoulderblades.

Panting heavily, working to hold himself in control as he straightened. Staring down at Arthur laid out before him and grinning as he delivered a sharp blow to one ass cheek, a back slap to the other.

“Damn right I’ll fuck you,” he said, settling back into things after his slip, finding himself back where he had been moments before with Arthur as he slapped once more.

Arthur nodded and groaned when Eames pushed in just a little deeper. His breathing was heavy and his legs were shaking as he kept them spread.

He inhaled sharply at the sharp slap to one cheek and then to the other, causing him to whimper. "Daddy -- please," he groaned and rest he hot cheek against the couch. His ass hurt and yet he couldn't remember the last time he felt so fucking good and tight and hot and pliant.

Arthur wasn't even thinking about it, or anything, anymore. All he knew was that he wanted more.

"Fuck, baby."

He couldn't help himself. Damn but Arthur sounded so amazing. All rough and throaty and sexy as fuck.

He couldn't hold himself back though, not take it that slow. He started moving, slow and deep in a desperate attempt to hold himself back.

"Do you know how when you call me Daddy, it's everything in me not to slam fuck you into this couch?"

Arthur groaned when he started to move slow and deep inside of him. He couldn't quite suppress the shiver that slid down his spine because really, he felt it too. He had to admit, Arthur liked it when Eames called him 'baby' or 'his boy'.

His lips curled up though as he clenched down around Eames and whimpered softly. "No, but I do now, daddy," he said and bit on his bottom lip. He couldn't help himself, really. "Thought you were going to fuck me into this couch," Arthur said, teasingly.

Panting already, just as heavy and deep as his strokes. He could focus if he tried, not looking over the sight of him taking Arthur's ass but instead stared at his back, at the long line of his spine. If he kept his focus...

Which he couldn't do with Arthur saying that word, asking for it.

"Fucking wicked little thing," he moaned, the words almost a growl as he moved suddenly, slamming into him with a sharp snap of his hips.

Oh.

Arthur inhaled sharply and moaned deeply. "Again," he said, his voice thick and husky. "Fuck, again, Eames," he said, pushing back against him.

He felt so tight and hot and on edge and all he wanted was more.

The begging was unneeded. He wasn't stopping. Not now. Not when he could ram fuck into him time and again, taking him as hard as he could. Both hands gripping slender hips, head bowed as he whispered Arthur's name time and again.

Eames wasn't the only one whispering his name over and over again, Arthur was as well (of course, exchanging names for 'Eames' instead of 'Arthur'). His breathing was heavy and he was gasping and groaning at certain thrusts. "Eames," he whimpered and moved a hand from the couch, down to his cock to wrap around it.

"No!"

Eames knocked his hand away. Only to replace it with his own.

"You're my boy and I'll take care of you," he growled, bucking hard into Arthur and driving him forward against the friction of Eames' hand.

Arthur gasped and returned his hand to the couch with a rugged moan. "Daddy -- fuck, daddy," he mumbled over and over again. He was close -- so fucking close he could practically taste it.

Just one more thrust, twist of his hand --

"That's right, Boy. That's right," he groaned, shuddering. "Fuck, baby. I'm close," he said, losing his rhythm. Just hard and fast and rough, jerking along Arthur's length. "Come on, Baby. I need it. I want to know I got you."

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