artfulforger | Welcome home - For bamf-pointman

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Welcome home - For bamf-pointman - Ships Passing

Australia seemed to go on forever with surveillance and research and ensuring that he not only had every needed mannerism down to a tee but that Eames had made enough notes that if Arthur had any questions, he could answer them. He had everything they needed and he was ready to go home. Ready to get back to a job that excited him as much as he feared just where it was going. Ready to get back to a pointman who was really turning his world upside down, and he was realizing how much he loved it.

Waiting until he was on his last layover and he was sure that the flights would be on time, he sent Arthur a message just before boarding his flight.

1016 degaulle #2316 timothy

Eames had shipped ahead everything else he needed, not that it had been much, so as he came down the walk to the terminal, all he had was a single rolling carry on. Dressed in fawn colored slacks and a dark burgundy coat over a paisley shirt, he looked like a tourist with a heavy shadow of hair growth along his jaws and a bright light in his eyes as he looked around for the man that should be waiting for him.

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It was a side of himself that Arthur never showed to anyone else. A side of him that he never trusted to show anyone else but he felt comfortable to be this way with Eames.

He watched Eames take a seat on the arm of the couch and walked toward him slowly. Arthur paused for a moment as he dropped his slacks and stepped out of them. "Mm, you may have a point," he admitted with a little smirk as he hooked his fingers into the waist band of his boxers and drew them down and off, standing fully naked now as he moves in closer to Eames. "Daddy --," he said, reaching out to slide his hand over Eames' chest slowly.

He watched Arthur the entire time Even if he had wanted to look away, he wasn't sure he could have. Not as he dropped those boxers, naked and beautiful. He'd just fucked him so recently and yet this was so different.

"That's my boy," he said, knowing that Arthur was agreeing. "Now back up so I can get seated and give you a lap."

He could still feel traces of Eames's come over his thighs and leaking from him slowly from when he fucked him but this -- this was what he had been waiting for and wanting. He took a step back so Eames could get comfortable and bit on the inside of his bottom lip as he watched - anxious and anticipating the smacks that Eames would lay on his bare ass.

He wasn't going to strip, yet he paused to get out of his jacket, wriggling out of it and tossing it on the floor with a flourish and a grin. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt before settling on the edge of the couch. He patted his lap.

"Now come here, Boy. You know the position, don't you?"

Arthur watched him toss his jacket to the floor and allowed himself a chuckle before moving in closer to him. "I think I remember, daddy," he smirked before settling himself over Eames's lap, shifting a little to get comfortable.

Of course with Eames, tossing things around like that was not the same as for Arthur. He'd worry about it later, not letting it interfere with something so much more important.

Arthur naked, willing, moving to wriggle his way onto Eames' lap. He didn't strike him. Not yet. First was soothing, reminding him that all of this, the whipping and everything else, came with more than just physical pain and gratification.

"How many do you think you need," he asked, stroking the curve of his ass.

Arthur made a soft sound as Eames stroked and practically petted his ass. It was much more than just the pain from Eames' hand or the gratification at the end - it was allowing himself to just feel and let Eames take care of him. Take care of his needs and wants and trust him knowing that afterward, Eames would still be there putting him back together.

He thought about that for a moment as his hands came to rest on the couch cushions as his head rested against his forearm. "Ten? Maybe fifteen --," he bit on his lip. Truth be told, he always seemed to lose track of how many times Eames ended up spanking him. By a certain point, all he did was whimper and beg for Eames to finally fucking fuck him already.

Eames made a soft sound, lightly dragging his fingers along his lover's ass, tracing the cleft with a teasing touch.

"Eager boy, aren't you," he asked, giving the tiniest pat. "Ten, and maybe half again that? Well well."

Then suddenly came the first slap, hard. "Here's hoping I don't disappoint."

"You love it," he said with a little pleased smile. "Love that I'm eager, daddy."

Arthur inhaled sharply at the first hard slap to his ass. "I -- mm, doubt you'll disappoint," he said, his hand clenching on the couch cushion as he bit on his bottom lip.

"Damn right I do," he mewled, loving the way he reacted to that first hit. "I want you eager. Be loud. Give me all you're willing to give me," he demanded, though his words were soft, loving, loving it all.

Another slap. Then another. Loving the way it felt warming his hand on his ass, striking again. Harder the third time.

Arthur felt heat crawl up his neck as Eames said those words to him and felt himself slowly hardening against Eames's thigh. He closed his eyes and when the next slaps came, Arthur was ready for them. He gasped at the third, harder strike and shifted. Gradually, he could feel the tension seep from his shoulders and back as his focus went toward what Eames wad doing.

"That's my boy. Loving it, I can tell," he murmured. Shifting to rub himself against him, enjoying that sensation. Another slap and then rubbing his fingers along the cleft of his ass.

"Are you counting," he asked, smirking.

"How so," Arthur asked with a teasing grin, knowing Eames was feeling how hard he was getting against his thigh. He bit off a moan when Eames rubbed against him, not-so-secretly loving the friction. His hands tightened around the fabric of the couch and groaned at the next slap.

He breathed for a long minute before shifting back against his fingers. "Mm, am I supposed to be counting, daddy," he asked with a smirk. He knew how many that had been of course, but he just had to ask.

"Oh don't play coy, Boy," he said, letting the words run together in that last rhyme. "I can feel how hard you are from those first strokes. Not even warmed up, are you," he growled. "Soon enough though."

Soon enough by the next strike, hard and heavy. He was looking to hurt, to redden his ass, and enjoying the idea of what it might do to Arthur.

"No. Don't count. Means I can go on until you beg me to fuck this ass," he said, with another pair of strikes.

A smile curled on Arthur's lips at Eames's growled words and licked over his bottom lip. "You like it," he accused him with a pleased smile.

When the heavier and harder strike came next, Arthur hissed. "Fuck," he growled, tightening his hand on the couch as he rocked against Eames's thigh. "Daddy," he mumbled with a soft whimper.

His breathing was coming in harder now as soft sounds were coming from the back of his throat. After the last pair of strikes to his ass, Arthur groaned deep. "Seven," he said, a teasing tone to his voice. Fuck, but he wanted Eames. Wanted his daddy.

He leaned down, nuzzling the back of Arthur's head. It was a tender knock of his head against Arthur's. "I love it, Darling. All of this we're sharing," he murmured, a sharp counterpoint to their play and games.

But then there was another slap and the sound of that and then Arthur calling him Daddy.

"Oh that's my sexy boy," he groaned. Slap. Slap. Slap. Sharp and quick, not heavy and hard.

His hips rolled, hard and grinding it against Arthur's hip.

"I love it too," Arthur murmured, liking that nuzzle and the tenderness in which Eames showed.

It was fairly short lived when Eames slapped his ass again - then another three times. "Daddy -- daddy," he groaned and pressed his flushed face against his arm, rocking against Eames' thigh.

He wasn't to the point of begging just yet -- but he was closer than he was. Fuck, he felt positively filthy considering Eames was smacking his ass and he could still feel the traces of his come inside of him and on his thighs.

Eames' head was reeling. He wanted nothing but to bend Arthur over and pound into his ass as hard as he could. He moaned, wanting so much more, realizing he wouldn't let himself break though. Not until Arthur asked for it.

"Come on, Boy," he snarled, moving from one cheek to the other, sharp and rough hits. Some light and sharp, others heavy and hard. He was loving it.

"So me how bad you need this."

By then, Arthur had lost track of how many times Eames had smacked his ass. His breathing was coming in rough pants, soft whines and groans and finally, it was the alternating smacks that did him in. That and Eames' words.

"Daddy -- please," he whimpered, rocking against Eames' thigh - hard and leaking. He bit down on his lip as he moved his hand from the couch to Eames' thigh and writhed on his lip. "Please... -" Fuck but he needed him -- wanted to feel him fuck him hard and leave him full of his come.

Arthur was a brilliant man, and Eames appreciated that. Arthur was strong and powerful and intelligent. Eames saw all of that and found it sexy. But this, this he saw all for himself and it was all the more special for it.

"Come on, Boy," he snarled, slapping him hard. "You say it or I'm not bending you over the arm of the couch and fucking you, Boy. Please isn't enough," he growled. "You want my dick in your ass, you ask for it."

So different than in the bathroom. It didn't mean he cared for him less, it meant he knew how much they shared and this was part of it.

This was a side of him that Arthur only showed to Eames. Only wanted to show to Eames and have no one else privy to. He inhaled sharply at the hard slap and bit down on his bottom lip with a groan. He knew logically that Eames cared about him so he didn't take it to heart -- didn't have it in mind to considering the only thing he could focus on was how fucking hard he was and how much his ass hurt.

"Please, daddy," he bit down on another whimper as he rocked against Eames's thigh. "Fuck me -- need you to fuck me." He normally wasn't one to beg but with Eames -- things changed and he felt safe to be vulnerable with him. Trusted him. "Please -- want to feel you fuck me again, fill me up."

This was part of their life now and Eames wouldn’t ever regret that. He loved this. He loved that they had this amazing relationship. The only thing he regretted was that they had waited so long to get to this point but he was never wasting it. Not again.

Even with those words, he continued to spank him. Sharp slaps, hard strokes and then his hand curling around one cheek, thumb pressing against that tight hole as he reached for a bottle of lube on the side table. They had known where this was going and no one was denying that.

“Right here? You want me to take this hole and make it mine, Boy?”

He loved Arthur’s words, the way he sounded.

“Kneel on the couch, lean over the arm.”

Arthur practically whined and whimpered when Eames's hand wrapped around one cheek and pressed against his hole. He pressed back against his thumb with a soft sound and shifted again. "Right here," he said, voice throaty. "Please, daddy - take me." Make me yours went unsaid but if he remembered correctly, they had exchanged those words on one of their past phone conversations.

He took a moment to gather himself before he pushed himself up from Eames' lap - his arms shaking with the effort as he moved closer to the arm of the couch. He rested his arms on it as he knelt. "Please, daddy -- need you."

And fuck, he did. He had for the last few weeks. Not just his 'Daddy' but Eames in general.

He could hear those words, though he didn’t say it out loud. Neither of them would. Not yet, face to face. They would one day though. Eames knew he would because he believed it. Arthur was his. Maybe he had been for so much longer than Eames had realized but he was his now. Fully and wholly, in so many ways

“That’s my good boy,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss along Athur’s spine as he slid two fingers into him. Slowly pumping them within him, kissing still as he worked him open.

It took hardly anytime for Arthur to press back against his fingers, clenching around them. He'd already been rather loose after the bathroom at the airport and after all the spanking. Arthur knew -- they both knew -- that he was Eames' and he especially knew that Eames was his in all the ways that mattered.

"Daddy --," he groaned and pressed his forehead against the couch and rocked back. "Come on --"

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ONE MORE!

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