Work Text:
Arthur stopped short as soon as he walked into Eames’ hotel room. Eames was sprawled out on the couch, one foot on the edge of the coffee table, his arms stretched out across the back, looking utterly relaxed… except for the wicked gleam in his eyes.
And across his lap was rope - their rope - and Arthur’s mouth went dry at the onslaught of mental images that called to mind. He willed his legs to move and walked further into the room, stopping at the end of the couch.
“Hello, darling,” Eames greeted him, his voice pitched lower than normal and his lips quirked in a knowing smirk.
“Hello yourself,” Arthur replied and motioned to the rope, “You have something in mind, I assume.”
Eames stood and pressed into Arthur’s personal space, his lips unerringly finding the sensitive spot under Arthur’s ear, the nip from his teeth sending a shiver down to Arthur’s toes.
“Do you remember our scene in Berlin?” Eames asked.
“Of course,” Arthur replied, a little indignant at the implication that he might ever forget it.
“Do you remember that little stunt you pulled that almost convinced me to break our contract?” Eames continued and Arthur felt shame burn in his chest; he still felt bad about putting Eames in that position.
“I do,” he replied quietly.
“I can’t stop thinking about that, Arthur. I jerk off to that scenario at least once a week,” Eames whispered against his neck before biting hard on Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur gasped and jerked, his hands coming up to wrap around Eames’ biceps to steady himself.
He licked a path across Eames’ neck and nibbled his ear before replying, “You leaning me back on the ottoman, towering over me, then slipping your cock into my mouth until I could choke on it, using me until you come down my throat… you mean that’s what you think about?”
Eames muttered a curse and pushed Arthur back against the wall, their hips grinding together.
“Is that what the rope is for? A little scene remix?” Arthur asked between panting breaths as Eames rutted against him.
“Yes, that’s what I want. What do you think, love?”
Arthur pushed Eames away after one last hard kiss. He stepped away from the wall and stood at parade rest.
“I say yes, sir.”
Ahh, there’s my dom Arthur thought as Eames transformed before him, his shoulders going back, his jaw setting more firmly, his feet shifting apart into a stronger stance. Arthur had once thought that Eames slipped on his dominance like a cloak, but he had since realized that the opposite was the truth; it was the everyday version that was a forge, and Eames shed it like a false skin to show Arthur his true self.
“Strip to the waist and then kneel in front of the couch,” Eames ordered as he picked the rope up from where he’d dropped it on the table.
“Yes, sir,” Arthur replied and moved quickly to comply. Once he was kneeling on the floor, Eames made short work of tying his arms and feet. Eames sat down on the table in front of him, his hand stroking Arthur’s cheek.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this. Do you even realize that?” he said and Arthur flushed at the praise.
“Thank you, sir.”
Eames kissed him, tongue licking into his mouth, as he pushed Arthur backwards slowly until his shoulders and head were resting on the couch cushion. He could feel the pull of the awkward position in his legs and abs, trying to hold himself steady. Eames stood and stripped quickly, tossing his clothing to the side. He loomed over Arthur, looking down at him, and he looked twenty feet tall from Arthur’s angle. He could see the muscles twitch in Eames’ thighs, his fully hard cock jutting out from his hips, his eyes dark with need.
“Please, sir,” Arthur said softly and licked his lips. Eames groaned and braced one knee beside Arthur’s shoulder, his other foot still planted on the floor. He put both hands on the back of the couch and leaned forward until the head of his erection brushed against Arthur’s lips.
Arthur licked across the head, and Eames’ hips snapped forward an inch, forcing his cock past Arthur’s lips. Arthur hummed in approval and Eames pressed slowly forward, his weight braced against the back of the couch. Arthur shifted his head slightly to open his throat more and trembled with pleasure when Eames’ jerked forward the last inch so that Arthur’s nose was pressed to Eames’ stomach.
“Fuck, yes,” Eames muttered as he froze there. Arthur breathed through his nose and twisted his tongue around the cock, drawing a strangled sound from Eames.
Eames pulled halfway out and thrust back in, paused, then did it again. Arthur looked up through his lashes and could see Eames staring back at him, his face drawn tight with control.
Arthur didn’t want Eames controlled, he wanted him undone. He hummed and wrapped his tongue around the length again. He tried to tell Eames with his eyes, begging him to move. Eames must have understood - he always understood Arthur - because he cursed again and began thrusting in a steady rhythm.
The saliva was pooling in his mouth and dribbling out the corners, but Arthur swallowed it the best he could. He moaned each time Eames’ cock touched the back of his throat; he was going to be hoarse for a couple days. It was more than worth it, though - the way Eames filled his mouth, the hard length sliding over his tongue...
“Fuck, Arthur…”
Arthur’s own cock was hard and pressing against his pants, but he had no desire to touch himself. This was for Eames, and if Arthur had to do without to make Eames happy, then so be it.
He was choking slightly on the saliva and pre-come now, but he could still breath through his nose, so it didn’t matter. He stretched his jaw a little wider and could have purred like a cat when Eames’ was able to slip a fraction further down his throat.
Eames was gasping and panting, his voice blurring in a string of curses and Arthur’s name as he fucked roughly past Arthur’s lips, the muscles in his hips flexing in a way that was going to destroy Arthur’s sanity.
The thrusts became irregular and Arthur could see Eames’ stomach muscles tighten and lock as he shouted Arthur’s name. Arthur could feel the hot pulses of Eames’ come on the back of his throat, and he swallowed around Eames’ cock, making Eames jerk at the added pressure. After a few moments, Eames pulled out, and Arthur licked the stray drops of salty liquid from his mouth. His lips felt raw on the inside, probably from being ground against his teeth, but he felt no pain. He was lost in the scent and sounds of Eames, his eyes only half open as Eames dropped to the floor beside him, his hands on either side of Arthur’s face.
“Oh, darling, you are a magnificent thing aren’t you,” he said and Arthur arched his head into the touch, preening under Eames’ praise, “My exquisite boy.”
He felt Eames’ hand slide down his bare chest to his crotch, where his extremely hard cock was a barely noticeable ache.
“I should take care of this for you,” Eames whispered against his sore lips.
“Only if it pleases you, sir.”
Eames smiled, the expression softly affectionate and at odds with the heat of his hand as it slipped into Arthur’s pants to wrap around his cock. Arthur arched into the touch with a gasp, his knees slipping further apart in a wanton display.
“This pleases me, Arthur. It pleases me very much, you tied up and on your knees, so responsive to my every touch. I could probably make you come with a word, couldn’t I, Arthur?” Eames said as he jerked him off.
“Yes, sir… please, sir…”
Eames’ hand was dry and should have hurt, it probably would hurt later, but right now it was the most perfect torture and Arthur cried out his orgasm loud enough that it would have scared anyone on this floor if Eames hadn’t kissed him then and swallowed the sound.
Arthur wasn’t sure when Eames untied and moved him - one moment he was on the floor, pressed back against the couch with Eames covering the front of him and the next he was stretched out on the bed with Eames rubbing lazy circles on his back while Arthur clung to Eames’ waist with both arms. He was still breathing roughly, a combination of the force of his orgasm and the repeated thrusts of Eames’ cock against the back of his throat.
At least Eames had been affected just as strongly, if his still pounding heart was any indication. Arthur wiggled his head further into the crook of Eames’ neck and pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw.
“You back with me now, love?” Eames asked.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Arthur said, and his voice sounded like he’d tried to gargle razor blades.
“That was…” Eames trailed off and just sighed contentedly.
“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, his fingers caressing idly at Eames’ bare hip.
“We should get you cleaned up so we can get to bed. You’ll stay tonight, won’t you? I’m feeling a very intense need to wake up with you wrapped around me like an extra blanket,” Eames said, his tone light and joking. Arthur punched him in the ribs and Eames flashed him a mock-wounded glare.
“I’ll stay, but only if you wash my hair for me,” Arthur said. Arthur didn’t particularly care for anyone else washing his hair, but he knew that Eames loved running his fingers through the dark strands and massaging his scalp. When Eames did it, Arthur ended up boneless and so relaxed he could barely move; it relaxed Eames just as much, this little thing he could do to take care of Arthur.
Eames recognized the offer for what it was and readily agreed. The shower took longer than was really necessary because of the attention Eames paid to making sure Arthur was soaped and scrubbed and by the end Arthur’s eyes were drooping shut from the pleasure of being pampered. Eames dried him off with thoroughly, and Arthur’s limbs were heavy as Eames walked him back to the bedroom. The bed was cozy and fluffy as he nestled into it, and Eames was a wall of strong warmth against him. Arthur was asleep in a matter of seconds.
He woke the next morning to Eames smirking and motioning to the way Arthur was draped around him. Arthur may have punched him in the ribs again… repeatedly…