
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4834376.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Inception_(2010)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Eames_(Inception)
  Character:
      Arthur_(Inception), Eames_(Inception), Ariadne_(Inception)
  Additional Tags:
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Size_Kink, Shameless_Smut, Beard_Kink_is_the
      Best_Kink, Alternate_Universe, Established_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-20 Words: 5173
****** Entice ******
by 3raser_(kay_elizabeth_roxx)
Summary
     Teenage Arthur was very pleased, to say the least, when his older
     boyfriend Eames grew a beard. What he didn't account for was the
     wicked beard burn.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
"Come on, Ariadne, this is important!" Arthur insisted, dragging her attention
away from the design magazine she was poring over. "If the phone rings at your
house tonight, make sure you're the one who answers it. If it's my mom, tell
her I'm in the bathroom, shoot me a text, and I'll call her back on my cell."
"I know the drill," she sighed, turning a page. "I've been covering for you and
Eames for what, nine months now?"
"Eleven and a half," Arthur automatically corrected, scowling when she
snickered. "Shut up."
"Why do you get to have a sexy older boyfriend, anyway?" Ariadne grumbled,
flipping her hood up as they left the school building. "Running off to have
sexy rendezvous and whatnot."
Arthur snorted. "Sneaking off, you mean. If Mom ever found out, she'd probably
just chop my balls off and put an end to it forever."
They reached Ariadne's bus, pausing for a hug. "Thanks for helping me out, Ari.
We don't get many opportunities like this."
"And by that you mean, you don't often get the opportunity to fuck all night
undisturbed," she grinned, and Arthur elbowed her, turning pink.
"Ouch! Goodbye to you too, asshole!" she yelped, sticking her tongue out at him
before taking the bus steps two at a time. Arthur shook his head, laughing as
he headed off down the sidewalk.
The sky above him was a uniform slate gray, but the shitty weather wasn't
enough to stifle the excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. His mom only
went out of town for business three or four times a year, and even then, they
were rarely overnight trips.
Arthur smiled to himself, remembering how Eames had grinned when he'd told him
that she wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening. Overnight stays were a rare
luxury in their relationship, and were savored as such.
"Now what's a fine young thing like you doing out in the rain, darling?" a low
voice called, a familiar car slowing to a crawl beside him. Eames' rough,
honeyed tone was like a caress, and Arthur shivered, his fingertips tingling.
"Creep," Arthur laughed, eyes glinting as he opened the door and slid inside.
"You couldn't just wait for me to get home?"
"You know I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, my sweet," Eames said, and
Arthur scoffed, stopping dead halfway through as he turned to look at him.
"What?" Eames asked, eyes glittering.
Arthur opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard.
"Jesus fuck, Eames," he finally muttered, eyes locked onto his jaw. "How long
has it been since you shaved?"
"Hmmm," Eames pondered, rubbing his chin. "A few weeks, maybe. Why? Don't you
like it?"
"You look like some kind of mountain man," Arthur said, avoiding the question.
"That or a lumberjack."
"Both worthy professions," Eames smirked, tilting his face like he could sense
just how badly Arthur wanted to touch it (because oh god, he did).
"Fuck," Arthur murmured, reaching out to smooth his palm across the coarse
hair. He was only mildly surprised when that alone made his dick twitch in his
jeans.
Eames tipped his face into the caress, glancing down at Arthur's lap with
heavy-lidded eyes. Arthur leaned in closer, wanting to bury his face into that
scruff and inhale, but they were already in his driveway.
"I'll only be a minute," Arthur murmured, voice cracking. He cleared his
throat. "I already have my stuff packed."
"I'll be waiting," Eames smiled, eyes still hot, and Arthur swallowed thickly,
hurrying inside.
Arthur tore through his house like a whirlwind, grabbing his bag and making
sure the cat had enough food. Once he was sure everything was taken care of, he
locked the door behind him and slung his stuff into the backseat of Eames' car.
They didn't waste any time sitting around in the driveway--Arthur's neighbors
had never mentioned seeing him leave with Eames, but if his mother ever caught
wind of it from them, there would be hell to pay.
"The guy I rented out my basement to is going to be home tonight," Eames
reported, "so I thought we'd rent a hotel room for the night. Is that all right
with you?"
"Of course," he replied. As if Eames didn't already know that anything
involving the two of them alone together was all right by him.
They passed most of the ride in semi-comfortable conversation, their usually
playful banter weighed down by poorly concealed desire. Arthur filled Eames in
on all the latest happenings at school; Eames filled Arthur in on all the crazy
shit that happened at work. For a relatively boring job in marketing, Eames
certainly met a lot of bozos.
Eames parked outside the hotel and led Arthur into the lobby, pressing a
reassuring hand to the small of his back. Arthur was always a bit nervous when
they checked into hotels together, even though he knew, realistically, that
there was nothing to worry about. The receptionist no doubt assumed that Eames
was his father: Arthur could look closer to 14 than 17 when he wanted to, and
Eames' new beard certainly made him look older than 25.
The receptionist handed Eames a key card, giggling when he winked at her.
Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Eames was a terrible flirt,
especially, for some reason, with the gender he had absolutely no interest in.
"Let's go, my love," Eames murmured, hitching his bag up over his shoulder.
Arthur followed suit, stepping into the elevator behind him. The ride up to
their floor seemed to pass in slow motion, the two of them shooting glances
back and forth in a coy little game.
The hotel suite was bland but spacious, the bed covered in a soft-looking gold
duvet. Arthur grinned to himself as Eames made a point of hanging the "Do Not
Disturb" sign on the door handle.
Eames walked over to drop his bag in the closet once he was finished, sliding
out of his suit jacket in the process. Arthur licked his lips, watching
intently. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but the beard somehow made
everything about Eames seem bigger. His shoulders seemed especially wide and
hard beneath his dress shirt, tensing as he undid his cufflinks and loosened
his tie.
"Just what do you think you're looking at?" Eames grunted when he caught Arthur
staring, his lips quirking into a smile. Arthur's mouth was suddenly,
inexplicably dry, and he swallowed hard, his throat giving an audible click.
"Not much," Arthur teased, sauntering up to him as he finished rolling up his
sleeves. His forearms were thick and tanned, and Arthur gripped them,
stretching up to rub his face against the thick, rough hair covering his jaw.
He could feel Eames holding back, his body tensed with the effort. Arthur
grinned, stretching up onto his tiptoes to nuzzle his ear, his own smooth cheek
rasping gently against Eames'. He let out a soft moan at the feeling, and Eames
shuddered against him in reply, arms finally reaching out to encircle his thin
waist.
Eames smelled vaguely of cologne and old smoke, and Arthur buried his nose into
the scent, nuzzling the scruff like a cat. Eames' fingers were restless on his
body, playing with the soft, untamed curls at the nape of his neck, and Arthur
moaned again, knuckles going white against his broad shoulders.
"Does that get you hot, darling?" Eames rumbled, trailing wet kisses down his
throat before rubbing his face there. Arthur mumbled a vague agreement, aching
to touch Eames' soft, pink lips. They looked moist and inviting, surrounded by
all that curling hair, but he forced himself to refrain, drawing out the
moment.
"C'mere," Eames finally murmured, swinging him up into his arms, and Arthur
yelped, arms going around his neck.
"I can walk, you know," Arthur dryly reminded him, although he could hardly
protest being wrapped up in all that muscle, supporting his weight as if it
were nothing. He could feel Eames' biceps bulging beneath him, and he nestled
into his broad chest with a smile, lips catching upon a fabric-covered nipple.
"Jesus, Arthur," Eames grunted, watching him as he flicked his tongue against
the cotton. Arthur loved it when Eames watched his mouth like that, his eyes
narrowed and dark with desire.
"Are you ever going to put me down?" Arthur asked, smiling sweetly as his thumb
traced Eames' nipple. The slightly darkened ring hardened quickly, and Eames
growled, tossing him onto the mattress.
Arthur's shirt rucked up around his middle, revealing a pale strip of skin, and
he arched his back with a slow grin, showing off. Eames' cock was hard in his
pants, and he looked down on him with dilated pupils, his eyes black with the
thinnest strip of blue-green.
Arthur licked his lips, a challenge in his eyes.
Eames shook his head minutely, unknotting his tie with carefully measured
movements. Arthur tracked the progress of his lover's thick fingers with
interest, watching them undo the small, slick buttons of his dress shirt. Eames
slid the shirt off once they were undone, thick shoulders shifting, and Arthur
bit his lip, fingers itching to rake through his soft chest hair. His nipples
were dusky brown and hard, and Arthur wanted to crawl over to the edge of the
bed and suck them, wanted to take one into his mouth and rub his face against
all those dark, swirling tattoos.
He looked big, hard, and intimidating; in other words, the kind of guy you
wouldn't want to fuck with. It made Arthur tremble to think that this man
wanted to fuck him of all people, just a scrawny little teenager.
Eames' hands dropped to his belt buckle, and Arthur's tongue crept into the
corner of his mouth, his own hand trailing slowly down his body. His fingertips
just barely dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat there,
and Eames growled out a warning, eyes flashing.
"Then let me help you with that," Arthur bargained, reaching for his belt
buckle with a grin.
He looked up at Eames from under his eyelashes, just the way he knew Eames
liked, and undid the buckle, pulling the belt out from its loops.
His eyes were drawn to the tattoo spanning Eames' lower stomach: Till I die SW.
He didn't know who “S.W.” was—he'd never cared to ask—but he always made a
point of sucking bruises against it, or digging his fingernails into it while
he sucked Eames' cock. If S.W. got to leave a mark, then so did he.
Arthur started in on the button of his slacks, nuzzling the hard bulge tucked
inside, but Eames caught his wrists and pushed him away. Arthur looked up at
him, pouting out his lower lip, and immediately felt a rush of heat to his
groin—god he looked sexy like that, mouth parted, his beard accentuating just
how big he was, how undeniably male.
“That's enough for now,” he mumbled, pressing Arthur back into the mattress.
Arthur felt caged in by his bulk, overheated, and he parted his lips in
invitation, hands trying and failing to circle his biceps.
Eames nuzzled at his chin, beard scratching his lips in a cruel tease, and
Arthur whined, nudging him towards his mouth.
“Now what do you want?” Eames murmured, grinning slow, and Arthur wrapped his
arms around his neck, pulling him down.
His mouth tasted vaguely of cinnamon gum, and Arthur gave a breathy moan,
knowing what he must sound like and not caring one bit. He hadn't kissed his
boyfriend in nearly two weeks, and he was damn well going to do it right now
that he could.
Eames' throat was rough beneath his fingertips, pulse jumping madly, and Arthur
slid his hand up to cup his jaw, thumb stroking the shaggy edge of his beard.
They were still kissing relatively chastely, breathing into it and sighing out
the occasional moan, and Arthur's face already felt scrubbed raw and sensitive.
“You're giving me rug burn,” Arthur breathlessly accused, twining the fingers
of one hand into his beard, and Eames chuckled low in his chest.
“It's called beard burn, my love,” Eames replied, pushing Arthur's shirt up and
leaving a trail of kisses behind. “And it looks absolutely marvelous on you.”
He paused to rub his cheek against Arthur's nipple, smiling when he begged him
to please oh god do that again.
“That feels good, hmm?” Eames murmured, mouthing at the small pink nub as
Arthur tossed his shirt onto the floor. When Eames finally pulled away,
suckling him one last time, the rasp of hair against the hard wet bud was
enough to make Arthur's hips snap forward.
Arthur wasn't shy about asking for what he wanted anymore. When they'd first
gotten together, he hadn't even been able to meet Eames' eyes as he stuttered
out that he'd maybe sort of like to suck his cock. Now he knew for a fact what
made Eames hot, and strangely enough, Arthur taking initiative did the job.
“Now just what do you think you're doing?” Eames growled, when Arthur dragged
Eames' hand down between his legs. The smile Arthur gave him was coy, and he
bit his lip, pressing his erection up into his boyfriend's palm.
Giving into him for only a moment, Eames dipped his tongue into his mouth
before abruptly catching his hands and trapping them over his head. Arthur's
heart stuttered in his chest—Eames' hand easily engulfed both of his wrists,
squeezing the delicate bones.
Those bulging muscles held him just like that, Arthur's thin frame quivering as
kisses were sucked against his lips. His mouth felt swollen and raw, rubbed
ragged against the hair covering Eames' jaw and upper lip.
Arthur managed to lift his hips when directed, allowing Eames to drag his jeans
off and toss them away. His cock was askew in his briefs, hot and leaking
against his thigh, and Eames leaned down to nuzzle it, beard tickling his
thighs.
“Mm, you're wet,” Eames cooed, pulling his briefs down his thighs. Precome was
already dribbling down the head, cock flushed and swollen, and Eames buried his
face into the crease where thigh met groin, inhaling.
“You love this, don't you?” Eames asked, rubbing his beard against the soft
flesh of his inner thighs. Arthur nodded, legs trembling where they were spread
around Eames' thick shoulders. He wanted that soft mouth against his cock,
scruffy hair teasing his balls, but Eames flipped him over onto his stomach
instead, leaning up over him.
“You'll like this,” Eames promised, dragging his cheek against the smooth slope
of his shoulder.
“I always do,” Arthur mumbled, burying his face into the pillow as Eames kissed
his way downwards.
~
Eames rumbled deep in his chest, nuzzling the notches of Arthur's spine. His
beard chafed across the sensitive flesh, prickling down his spine, and Arthur
moaned, pressing his ass back against him. The rough caress of Eames' beard was
a potent complement to his soft, suckling lips, lush and wet as they parted
against Arthur's skin.
Strong arms caught him around the hips and tugged him back, Eames' face
nestling against the small of his back. His tongue slipped out to touch the
dimple just above the swell of his ass, a soft, wet point of heat amidst a mass
of scruffy hair.
A soft moan escaped Arthur's lips as Eames forced his hips back down onto the
mattress, his erection pressing against the hot sheets. He blushed all the way
down his neck when Eames finally spread his ass, blowing a cool stream of air
against the little pink pucker he found there.
Arthur couldn't help but clench at the feeling, and Eames made that sexy
rumbling noise in his chest again, rubbing his jaw all along the curve of his
ass. Eames' shaggy hair just barely brushed the edges of his hole, the gentlest
of touches, and Arthur mewled out a plea, struggling to press back against
Eames' face.
“I know, baby,” Eames whispered, gravelly with desire, before spreading him
wide and nuzzling in. He started with slow, suckling kisses all down the cleft
of his ass, intentionally avoiding the tight clench of his hole, and Arthur
cried out, thighs straining.
“Please, Eames,” Arthur gasped, hands twining into the sheets. “Put your mouth
on me. I know you want to eat me out.”
“Where did you get such a dirty mouth, my love?” Eames murmured, before sliding
his lips over his hole in a wet, sucking kiss. Arthur moaned, his hair flopping
into his eyes as he arched his neck. His cock was throbbing against the
bedsheets, dripping madly, but all he could focus on was the feeling of Eames'
lips, his beard stimulating every nerve surrounding the sensitive clutch of
muscle.
The first hot press of Eames' tongue drew a keening wail from Arthur's throat,
and he buried his face into the mattress, gasping and panting. Eames curled his
tongue against his entrance in response, writhing the tip against the dusky
pucker before pushing inside.
“Eames.... Eames, please, that feels so good,” Arthur whined. He wasn't quite
sure of what he was begging for, but Eames seemed to know, palms cradling his
sharp hipbones as he worked his tongue in and out of him. Arthur's cock
twitched between his thighs, dribbling precome, and Eames shifted his face with
a grin, beard prickling his balls.
“Nnh!” Arthur groaned, hips jerking against the bed, and Eames stuck his hand
between the soft heat of his thighs, caressing his cock. Arthur wailed in
reply, every inch of his body tight and quivering as he hovered on the edge of
orgasm.
“C'mon, darling, come for me,” Eames rasped, sucking marks into the flesh of
his thighs, and Arthur did, spilling into Eames' hand with a broken wail of his
name.
Spots of white exploded behind Arthur's eyelids as he gasped into the sheets,
his entire body lax and oversensitive. Eames was panting as well, his eyes dark
as he pulled himself up the bed.
“You're red all over,” Eames rumbled, cupping his chin, and Arthur looked up at
him, blushing scarlet. His lips were swollen and rosy, his beard wet with spit,
and Arthur thought he'd never looked quite so sexy.
And he was right—Arthur could feel his entire body prickling with heat, a rash
no doubt marking the path Eames had taken. Beard burn should be uncomfortable,
that much Arthur knew, but at the moment he just wanted to roll around in the
soft sheets and moan in pleasure.
Eames' cock was still swollen between his thighs, and Arthur licked his lips,
thumbing the seam of his trousers. “Take these off.”
He did so without comment, sliding out of his slacks and briefs, and Arthur
pushed himself up onto his elbows, nudging the larger man back onto his
haunches. His body looked delicious like this, cock and balls resting heavily
between his thick, corded thighs.
Eames' pubic hair was wet with precome, a thin strand of it still connected to
his cockhead, and Arthur leaned in for a taste, wrapping his lips around the
head. Purring into the musk of him, Arthur suckled the crown of his cock as
Eames moaned lowly. Tremors shook the mattress beneath them, and Arthur
groaned, throat clenching.
“Please, I want it,” Arthur breathed, pulling back, and Eames took his own cock
in hand, thick ropes of come spurting against Arthur's lips and catching in his
eyelashes.
“Look at you, darling,” Eames reverently murmured once he was finished, cupping
Arthur's face and leaning down to lick him clean. Arthur closed his eyes and
sighed, basking in the attention as Eames' scruff rubbed against his bruised
lips.
Next door, a very unhappy businessman pulled out a pair of hastily-inserted
earplugs, scowling.
~
“Why don't we go out tonight, love?” Eames suggested, carding his fingers
through Arthur's soft curls. They were curled up together on the bed at the
moment, loose sweatpants barely clinging to their hips. “I'll take you to that
sushi place you like so much. We'll make it a date.”
Arthur shook his head, making a face. “It won't be a real date. I don't wanna
sit somewhere and act like we're friends or relatives or whatever.”
“Besides,” he mumbled, tucking his face up under his chin, “I'll be 18 in three
months. Then you'll be able to take me on real dates, and my Mom won't be able
to say a thing.”
Eames chuckled, tickling his beard against Arthur's forehead. “Oh, I have a
feeling she'll still be fully capable of saying things. Seeing her baby boy go
off with an old codger like me....”
“Seven years isn't even that big of a gap!” Arthur protested, vehement. “Mom
and Dad were five years apart, and that was never a big deal. It's not like
you're 40 or something.”
Arthur's eyes were surprisingly uncertain when he glanced up, his palm
smoothing down the scruff covering Eames' jaw. “You don't think it's that big
of a gap, do you?”
“It doesn't matter if it is or not,” Eames replied, pressing a kiss to his
forehead. “It doesn't change anything, right?”
“Right,” Arthur smiled, cheeks dimpling. Eames' insides melted at the sight.
“Let's not talk about it anymore,” Arthur whispered, wrapping his arms around
Eames' neck and tipping his chin to offer up his tender lips. Eames grunted,
accepting the invitation with pleasure—Arthur had the sweetest, softest mouth,
even when swollen and bruised.
The hotel telephone suddenly rang, startling them both, and Eames chuckled into
his mouth, reaching over to answer it.
“H'lo?”
The voice on the other end of the line was female, and vaguely uncomfortable
beneath a sheen of professionalism. “Hello, this is Room 124, correct? Mr.
Eames?”
“Why, yes,” Eames cheerfully replied. “What can I do for you?”
Eames already had an inkling, but it still sent a secret thrill down his spine
to hear the words. “We've had some complaints of, um, loud noises coming from
your room. I must ask that you keep it down, for the comfort of all of our
guests.”
“Oh, my. I apologize! I assure you it won't happen again.”
“Thank you very much,” she replied, hanging up before he could offer a goodbye.
Eames dropped the phone back into its cradle, chuckling as Arthur nudged him.
“What was that about?”
Eames smiled indulgently, fingers trailing down his back. “It seems our
neighbors didn't appreciate your gorgeous moaning quite so much as I did,
duckling.”
Heat slammed into Arthur's cheeks, turning them a rather fetching shade of
scarlet, and Eames kissed them both, his groin stirring.
“Come now, don't be bashful,” Eames murmured, sucking a tiny mark just beneath
his ear. It looked good there, tucked in against his long, black curls.
“They're probably jealous that they aren't the ones making you moan like that.”
“Come on, Eames,” Arthur breathed, as Eames slipped his sweatpants down over
his hips. “We shouldn't....”
“You'll just have to keep quiet this time, won't you?” Eames mumbled, tugging
on his hand, and Arthur came into his lap willingly enough, all pale, lithe
limbs. Eames rubbed his hands down Arthur's shoulders, heat building between
his thighs as he realized once again just how beautiful and delicate his lover
was. His silhouette was gorgeous to look at, like a painting—slim, angular
shoulders tapering down into a trim waist and a pert, jaunty little ass.
His hipbones were favorite spots as well: two smooth, jutting curves of bone
just perfect for grabbing onto while fucking him from behind.
Arthur straddled his hips, ass settling down into his lap, and Eames growled as
he wiggled against his cock, just the slightest tease. He was quite the image
of debauchery, biting his lips to hold back his moans, his entire body
scratched red by Eames' beard. That was inexplicably arousing, knowing that
Arthur's soft inner thighs were rubbed raw, and he still wanted more.
“I'm going to finger you now, okay?” Eames mumbled into his mouth, and Arthur
caught himself halfway through a moan, nodding instead. The lube was already on
the nightstand, and Eames scrabbled for it, slicking his fingers.
He nudged Arthur upwards, thighs slung wide to accommodate his hips. This put
Eames' face level with a large swathe of stubble burn spanning Arthur's chest,
and he couldn't help but darken it, dragging his chin against the milky flesh.
Arthur exhaled hard as Eames fingered the rim of his hole, no doubt still
tender from his mouth. The little pucker clenched and released, a tacit plea,
and Eames slipped his middle finger inside, burying it into the soft heat of
him.
Arthur pressed his fist to his mouth to stifle his little mewls of pleasure,
thighs quivering delicately. Eames found Arthur's prostate with a crook of his
finger, caressing the little bundle of nerves as he rubbed himself all over his
chest, inhaling the scent of his lover's arousal.
The drag of his cheek against Arthur's skin felt amazing, and he happily
latched onto a nipple, suckling the hard nub as he pushed another finger
inside. The silky muscles encasing him spasmed, clenching down hard around the
digits. He was visibly shaking now, and Eames fumbled his sweatpants down just
far enough to free his erection, a continuous rumble vibrating in his chest.
“Shh, you're all right,” Eames cooed, slicking his cock and catching Arthur's
thin hips between his hands. “You know what to do now, don't you, my love?”
Arthur nodded, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he reached back for
Eames' cock. He guided it slowly to his hole, thighs quaking as he lowered
himself down onto it. Eames steadied his hips and grunted against his chest,
lips parting. Nothing could compare to the feeling of Arthur encasing him,
inner muscles velvet-soft and pulsing.
“Eames, I c-can't—“ Arthur whimpered, gnawing brutally at his lips, and Eames
nodded in understanding, raising one hand to cover his mouth. Arthur squirmed
happily in his lap once he was silenced, shifting back and forth on his cock,
and Eames growled low, biting at a nipple.
Arthur's eyes slipped shut, his hair falling into his face as he bounced on
Eames' cock, moans stifled against his palm. Eames rubbed the cut of his jaw
restlessly against Arthur's shoulders, hips twitching as he watched his lover's
cock bob between his legs. It was a wonderfully erotic sight, his balls full
and tight between his slender thighs, flushed red and radiating heat.
Arthur's fingers drifted from Eames' shoulders to his face, twining into his
beard, and Eames hummed a low note of approval, relishing the pull and drag.
Arthur's hips were working quickly now, fucking himself down onto Eames' hot
shaft with abandon. He could tell Arthur loved this, riding him like a pony,
his fingers pulling and stroking at his beard.
His fingers were moist with Arthur's panting breaths, and he could hardly
believe that this boy was his, that he wanted to be here with him. He was
absolutely flawless, arching and slick with sweat, and Eames planted his free
hand onto the bed, thighs tensing as he thrust up into his body. Arthur
whimpered against his hand in reply, a flush creeping down his neck, and Eames
thrust up again, fucking that tight wetness.
“M'gonna come,” Arthur mumbled through his fingers, garbled, and Eames
undulated his hips beneath him, feeling his own orgasm rear up. The slick
muscles around him suddenly contracted, Arthur writhing in his lap as his cock
spilled between them with a languid jerk. Eames moaned at the feeling, muffling
the noise against Arthur's neck as he came and came and came.
He quickly filled Arthur up, soaking his own cock and Arthur's insides, and the
sensation drew one last spurt from Arthur, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“Mmm,” Arthur said, once Eames' hand left his mouth, and he leaned down for a
kiss, letting Eames' cock slip from his body. Eames felt wrecked and raw,
muscles aching from exertion and orgasm, and he laid Arthur down on the bed,
smothering him in kisses.
“Was I quiet enough?” Arthur inquired with a sleepy grin, hair a crazy mess of
curls against the pillow, and Eames nuzzled his nose with his own, smiling.
“You certainly were, petal.”
~
Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair, waiting for his mom to get home. His
skin felt hot and about two sizes too small, his clothes chafing unbearably.
Every inch of him felt rubbed raw, a large portion of his body covered in a
dusky red rash.
He'd spent almost an hour naked in his bed, rolling around on the soft cotton
sheets in a futile effort to ease the prickling. He could still feel Eames
rubbing against him like some kind of affectionate grizzly bear, nuzzling into
his thighs.
The memory sent a bolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Arthur took a deep
breath, rubbing absently at the rash covering his neck.
Maybe his mom wouldn't notice.
His cellphone buzzed in his pocket, and he grabbed for it, smiling at the
caller ID.
"You just dropped me off thirty minutes ago, Eames," Arthur grinned. "What
could you possibly want?"
"Must you call me out so directly, my sweet?" Eames chuckled, voice low and
rich. "I miss you already, you know. I had a wonderful time."
"I had a good time, too," Arthur murmured back, smiling to himself. "I always
do."
"Well, my dear, text me when your mother gets home," Eames said, "and try to
cover up those hickeys, all right?"
"I already did," Arthur laughed. "...And hey, Eames?"
"Yeah?"
He paused, lips twitching upwards. "I love you."
"And I love you, my darling," Eames murmured, his voice warm. "Good night."
The sound of a car approaching the house startled Arthur, and he murmured a
goodbye, hanging up the phone.
A key rattled in the front door, and his mom entered, looking rumpled and jet
lagged. She dropped her suitcase by the door, startling a little when she
spotted him in the armchair.
“Arthur!” she smiled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “I didn't expect you home
yet!”
“How was your trip?” he smiled, casually tugging the collar of his shirt
further up his neck.
“Oh, it was all right,” she said, waving a hand.
She paused, taking a closer look at him. Arthur's smile froze on his lips.
“What happened to your face and neck?” she asked, tilting his chin to get a
closer look. “You have some kind of rash all over you!”
“It's nothing,” he dismissed, voice carefully neutral. “I guess I got a little
windburnt on the way home from Ariadne's house.”
“You should put some aloe on that,” she suggested, patting his cheek before
heading into the kitchen.
Arthur tipped his head back and sighed in relief, thanking his lucky stars that
his mother only dated smooth-shaven men.
End Notes
     Written for this prompt at Inception_kink.
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