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

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."

Arthur practically cried Eames' name out at the rough thrust and jerk of his hand and whimpered as he came over Eames' hand and his chest (a little even making its way onto the back of the couch). "Eames -- daddy," he panted, breathing heavily.

"That's my boy. God, sweet boy," he moaned, hand slowing but still gripping Arthur as he slammed into him, whimpering - actually whimpering - as he came off deep in the man that had gone from coworker to friend to lover.

Body jerking and then slumping slightly over Arthur. "My God, so sexy," he groaned.

Arthur could only lay there against the couch, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. Anything he might have said, would have said, wanted to say was lost between his brain to his vocal cords. Christ.

Shuddering breaths rumbled through Eames until he slumped in against Arthur. Closing his eyes as he grunted and withdrew. A second later he dropped onto the bench and then reached for Arthur to pull him into his arms.

"You okay, love?"

Arthur groaned when Eames withdrew and allowed the forger to pull him over and into his arms. He returned to Eames' lap and pressed his forehead against his neck with a silent nod. He was fantastic -- sore but fantastic. It wasn't exactly every day that he was reduced speechless.

He pressed his nose against Eames' neck and inhaled slowly before pressing his lips to that same skin.

It wasn't what he wanted to do, but he knew that with time he would have just collapsed. Instead he held Arthur close, sighing at the way he nuzzled in close. He wanted nothing more than this. At least for a time.

"Do remember to breathe, Love."

Arthur curled in close to him and allowed his breathing to calm down and do as Eames suggested. "I am," he murmured and closed his eyes some. He probably should clean the spots that were streaked with his come off of the couch but he couldn't bring himself to move from Eames' arms. He just felt...completely relaxed right now. Like nothing else mattered but being in his arms.

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