Fic: May I have the next dream with you
May I have the next dream with you
Inspired by motetus' fantastic Somnophilia art here. Coda set in the There's got to be a morning after universe
Master post
Wordcount: 2000
"The mix contains a light sedative which prevents the dreamer from being woken too easily," Eames says, holding the vial of blue liquid up the light. "It's also supposed to heighten physical sensation such that it translates well into the dream."
"Side effects?" Arthur says. "Are you going to vomit on me again?"
"Probably not," Eames replies, and hastily adds, "I mean, no. The mix doesn't induce nausea. Apparently, there can me some minor--muscle spasms, though."
"Am I going to get kicked in the face?" Regardless of how Eames responds, Arthur mentally readies himself to get kicked in the face. He has a couple of ice packs and uncooked steaks in the freezer. Should be easy to apply as long as Arthur isn't hit hard enough to lose consciousness.
"Minor," Eames repeats, but he sounds uncertain. "I guess we could use the stirrups if you're concerned about flailing limbs."
"You hate the stirrups."
"I do hate the stirrups," Eames agrees. "But I'd rather not break your nose and wake up to gushing blood all over my genitals."
"That's a hell of a picture you painted there," Arthur says, chuckling. "Forget the stirrups. I'll be careful and hold onto your legs."
"Much appreciated, darling." Eames smiles.
"What'll you be dreaming about?"
"Why, a hundred gorgeous men and women pleasuring me, of course."
"A gangbang with you in the center." Arthur nods, approvingly. "I can get into imagining that."
"A gangbang sounds so undignified, not to mention far too much work," Eames says. "I prefer the terms 'group sex' or 'orgy' with an especial focus on me."
"So, a gangbang," Arthur says, amused by Eames' sigh and pout, precisely on cue.
"Must all your fantasies be so lurid and degrading?"
Arthur runs a lazy thumb down Eames' jaw. "You love acting out my lurid and degrading fantasies."
Eames catches Arthur's thumb between his lips and nips it, lightly. "Does it please you?"
Arthur presses down on Eames' bottom lip and withdraws his fingers. "You know the answer to that."
Eames' gaze cuts away, almost coy. And who would have thought that Eames could ever be described as coy? Not Arthur. "Shall we begin?" Eames asks, beginning to undo his pants.
Arthur sets up the PASIV while Eames settles on the floor. Not as comfortable as a bed, but they've learned hard lessons about hooking up to a PASIV when the possibility of rolling off the bed and ripping an IV out exists.
"You're leaving your shirt on?" Arthur asks, dismayed.
"It's a bit chilly in here and all you need is access to my bum."
"Yeah, but..."
"If you insist." Eames shrugs his shirt off with an exaggerated roll of his shoulders. Of course it was all a ploy; Eames simply wanted Arthur to explicitly ask for his chest before baring it.
And a compliment-worthy chest it is, Arthur thinks, momentarily distracted by the pectorals. Eames has been exercising harder recently, muscles defined across his torso.
Not that the rest of Eames doesn't get Arthur going. The ass, the face, the cock--perfection. But there's no denying how much he loves that fucking chest. Which Eames is all too aware of.
"I'm ready," Eames says, sprawling across the ground, legs spread. There's a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips as Arthur's eyes sweep over him.
Arthur mostly finds Eames' vanity amusing, even vaguely endearing. Sometimes, though, after Arthur's come back from a hard job involving reckless extractors and gunfire, the last thing he wants to do is indulge Eames' pathological need for reassurance in regards to his enduring sex appeal. But Arthur supposes that part of being in a relationship is making an effort even when you don't feel like it.
"You're sexy as hell, babe," Arthur says, to watch the smile bloom brighter across Eames' face, light up his eyes. "Are you ready?"
Arthur waits for a nod before turning on the PASIV. Eames' eyelids flutter shut as Arthur moves himself between Eames' spread legs, gently cradles Eames' cock.
Arthur starts slowly, gives Eames time to adjust and orient himself in the dream. Arthur runs his hands up and down Eames' chest, starting from the shoulders, and can't resist cupping Eames' pectorals, thumbing his nipples. Eames sighs at the contact, back arching up, and how can Arthur refuse that offer?
Arthur bends down to trace the shape of one nipple with his tongue, feel it peak against his lips. He means to stop with a kiss but ends up latching on instead, suckling as Eames pushes up into his mouth.
Arthur sucks until Eames' right nipple is red and sloppy with saliva, then switches to lap at the other. Eames' unconscious body shifts, seeming restless, but this is Arthur's show now. He'll run it the way he wants. And if he wants to drag his fingernails through the hair across Eames' chest, down to his bellybutton, Arthur will damn well do it.
Arthur skims a hand down Eames' abdomen, watches with interest as Eames' dick hardens. Arthur drags his fingertips down, avoids Eames' cock, and strokes Eames' ballsac instead. He's gentle at first, cupping them lightly. As he kneads more firmly, Eames' cock rises into the air and flops back gently against his belly.
Arthur wasn't sure he'd enjoy this experiment with the PASIV--half-expected to be bored playing with a limp body--but Eames is wonderfully responsive like this, even without consciousness and words. Playing with Eames, drawing out his reactions--it's fucking hot.
Arthur slides in closer, repositioning Eames' legs to make it easier to maneuver his lube-slicked fingers against Eames' hole. A fingertip slips in as easily as it always does, body eager and ready to receive.
Pressing in two fingers is as easy as one, and Arthur considers leaving it at that, crooking his fingers over and over until Eames is leaking, until Arthur can't stand not having Eames' cock in his mouth for another instant. But Eames shifts again, legs spreading wider in a wanton invitation for more.
"You love being filled up, don't you?" Arthur murmurs as he inserts a third finger and sees a shudder of pleasure travel through Eames' body. "I'm going to make you come all over yourself."
Arthur begins to fuck his fingers in and out, bent to tease over the prostate with every stroke. He slips his pinky in and bends down to stare, mesmerized by the clutch of Eames' hole, the tiny twitches of his hips.
Eames' cock is hard and covered in precome, liquid dribbling down the shaft, dripping onto Eames' lightly furred belly. Arthur wants to make him come, one finger shy of being fisted, from milking his prostate for all it's worth. But Eames' cock looks sweet and red, delicious enough for Arthur to want a taste, a single lick--
Arthur manages a lick from Eames' balls to under the head before Eames is coming. Messily, thoroughly, thin ropes of it covering his stomach and chest. Arthur watches, dick aching in his pants, and doesn't stop fingering Eames even after he's finished coming. There's only a minute left on the PASIV timer, and maybe Arthur can wring out a second orgasm before Eames wakes up.
He doesn't quite manage a full-blown orgasm, though a trace of liquid emerges from the tip of Eames' cock as his eyes flutter open. Arthur kisses Eames' kneecap and smiles as Eames' gaze meets his.
"That was bloody marvelous," Eames purrs as he hooks one leg behind Arthur's back and drags him forward. "Nearly an hour of continuous orgasm."
"Want to go under again?" Arthur asks as he pulls his fingers out and rubs them on a nearby washcloth.
"Maybe later, after you've given it a go." Eames frees himself from the cannula and sits up, movements languid. "You're still completely dressed."
"I was concentrating on you."
"How considerate." Eames pushes Arthur onto his back and undoes his pants, freeing his cock with deft hands. "Now allow me."
"Fuck yeah," Arthur says, resting his hands behind his head while Eames rolls a condom on and straddles him. "Ride me. Make me come."
They both groan as Eames settles down. He rolls his hips in a move that could be straight out of a porno, and goes to work.
Arthur reaches out to smear the drying come across Eames' pecs and Eames catches his wrist, brings his fingers up to suck individually.
They've been having sex for over a decade. They've done everything two men can do together, and many times over. But there are a few positions that still get Arthur crazy hot--and Eames being on top of Arthur's cock is one of them. Partly because of its relative rarity in their repertoire and partly because of the idea of Eames on display, loving the cock up his ass, turns Arthur on like nothing else.
"Take it, baby," Arthur murmurs. "Move your hips like--yeah, like that."
Eames runs a hand down his own sternum, his ribs. "You want to come all over my chest? Mess me up even more?"
"Fuck yeah, I do." Arthur sits up and pushes Eames onto his back, pulling out and ripping off the condom. He starts to jerk himself while Eames rubs his thigh encouragingly.
He comes, sputtering across Eames' nipples, his chest. Arthur sighs as the last few drops fall onto Eames' belly and rubs the come into Eames' skin clumsily, loving the territorial rush. Once or twice, he's muttered something stupid like, mine, in a post-orgasm haze after coming on Eames. Eames didn't acknowledge it one way or another, thankfully.
"Very well done," Eames rumbles, relaxed and pliant. Usually he allows Arthur half a second to linger like this before charging off to wash up. But maybe orgasming continuously for an hour is the key to putting Eames in a cooperative mood. Arthur makes a mental note for the future.
Arthur drops down for a kiss, savoring the skin to skin contact and the tacky feel of the come between them. "You want me to clean you up in the shower?"
"In a minute." Eames' arms come up to stroke Arthur's back, gaze warm and fond. "You can enjoy this a bit longer."
Arthur relaxes and slumps against Eames, knowing he can handle the weight. "How was your gangbang?"
"Rough and dirty. I used my arse and mouth to service many eager projections." Eames' voice is rich and low. "Is that what you were thinking about?"
"Maybe," Arthur hedges as an inconvenient thought pops into his mind. He tries to push it away but can't quite.
"You weren't thinking about how I was being held open and filled with cock, or how I begged for-"
"I was actually thinking about how I--I love you." Arthur stares over Eames' right shoulder, feels like his kidneys have migrated into the vicinity of his throat, ready to spill out of his mouth if he leans too far forward.
They're just words. He's said it to Eames before, once or twice. Twice, if you count the times his mouth has moved and his voice made it all the way out. Once, if you count the number of times Eames was awake to hear it. Somehow, it hasn't gotten easier.
He's said it to Sudheer dozens of times before, but it never felt like it does with Eames-like Arthur's holding a piece of himself out for Eames' inspection, waiting to see if Eames will roll his eyes. With Sudheer, it felt easy and natural, a line in their carefully scripted play, a step in their dance.
With Eames, Arthur never knows what the next step might be. Mostly he's not even sure they're dancing the same dance. It doesn't bother Arthur as much as he thought it might.
Arthur finally risks a glance. Eames' face looks-gentle, maybe, as gentle as he can ever manage to look. He cups Arthur's cheek and kisses him with a murmured, "And I, you."
Eames never says or does what Arthur expects. It can be confusing, jarring, and occasionally infuriating. But at the end of the day it is always, Arthur thinks, worth the effort.
fin
Poll Fic: May I have the next dream with you
Inspired by motetus' fantastic Somnophilia art here. Coda set in the There's got to be a morning after universe
Master post
Wordcount: 2000
"The mix contains a light sedative which prevents the dreamer from being woken too easily," Eames says, holding the vial of blue liquid up the light. "It's also supposed to heighten physical sensation such that it translates well into the dream."
"Side effects?" Arthur says. "Are you going to vomit on me again?"
"Probably not," Eames replies, and hastily adds, "I mean, no. The mix doesn't induce nausea. Apparently, there can me some minor--muscle spasms, though."
"Am I going to get kicked in the face?" Regardless of how Eames responds, Arthur mentally readies himself to get kicked in the face. He has a couple of ice packs and uncooked steaks in the freezer. Should be easy to apply as long as Arthur isn't hit hard enough to lose consciousness.
"Minor," Eames repeats, but he sounds uncertain. "I guess we could use the stirrups if you're concerned about flailing limbs."
"You hate the stirrups."
"I do hate the stirrups," Eames agrees. "But I'd rather not break your nose and wake up to gushing blood all over my genitals."
"That's a hell of a picture you painted there," Arthur says, chuckling. "Forget the stirrups. I'll be careful and hold onto your legs."
"Much appreciated, darling." Eames smiles.
"What'll you be dreaming about?"
"Why, a hundred gorgeous men and women pleasuring me, of course."
"A gangbang with you in the center." Arthur nods, approvingly. "I can get into imagining that."
"A gangbang sounds so undignified, not to mention far too much work," Eames says. "I prefer the terms 'group sex' or 'orgy' with an especial focus on me."
"So, a gangbang," Arthur says, amused by Eames' sigh and pout, precisely on cue.
"Must all your fantasies be so lurid and degrading?"
Arthur runs a lazy thumb down Eames' jaw. "You love acting out my lurid and degrading fantasies."
Eames catches Arthur's thumb between his lips and nips it, lightly. "Does it please you?"
Arthur presses down on Eames' bottom lip and withdraws his fingers. "You know the answer to that."
Eames' gaze cuts away, almost coy. And who would have thought that Eames could ever be described as coy? Not Arthur. "Shall we begin?" Eames asks, beginning to undo his pants.
Arthur sets up the PASIV while Eames settles on the floor. Not as comfortable as a bed, but they've learned hard lessons about hooking up to a PASIV when the possibility of rolling off the bed and ripping an IV out exists.
"You're leaving your shirt on?" Arthur asks, dismayed.
"It's a bit chilly in here and all you need is access to my bum."
"Yeah, but..."
"If you insist." Eames shrugs his shirt off with an exaggerated roll of his shoulders. Of course it was all a ploy; Eames simply wanted Arthur to explicitly ask for his chest before baring it.
And a compliment-worthy chest it is, Arthur thinks, momentarily distracted by the pectorals. Eames has been exercising harder recently, muscles defined across his torso.
Not that the rest of Eames doesn't get Arthur going. The ass, the face, the cock--perfection. But there's no denying how much he loves that fucking chest. Which Eames is all too aware of.
"I'm ready," Eames says, sprawling across the ground, legs spread. There's a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips as Arthur's eyes sweep over him.
Arthur mostly finds Eames' vanity amusing, even vaguely endearing. Sometimes, though, after Arthur's come back from a hard job involving reckless extractors and gunfire, the last thing he wants to do is indulge Eames' pathological need for reassurance in regards to his enduring sex appeal. But Arthur supposes that part of being in a relationship is making an effort even when you don't feel like it.
"You're sexy as hell, babe," Arthur says, to watch the smile bloom brighter across Eames' face, light up his eyes. "Are you ready?"
Arthur waits for a nod before turning on the PASIV. Eames' eyelids flutter shut as Arthur moves himself between Eames' spread legs, gently cradles Eames' cock.
Arthur starts slowly, gives Eames time to adjust and orient himself in the dream. Arthur runs his hands up and down Eames' chest, starting from the shoulders, and can't resist cupping Eames' pectorals, thumbing his nipples. Eames sighs at the contact, back arching up, and how can Arthur refuse that offer?
Arthur bends down to trace the shape of one nipple with his tongue, feel it peak against his lips. He means to stop with a kiss but ends up latching on instead, suckling as Eames pushes up into his mouth.
Arthur sucks until Eames' right nipple is red and sloppy with saliva, then switches to lap at the other. Eames' unconscious body shifts, seeming restless, but this is Arthur's show now. He'll run it the way he wants. And if he wants to drag his fingernails through the hair across Eames' chest, down to his bellybutton, Arthur will damn well do it.
Arthur skims a hand down Eames' abdomen, watches with interest as Eames' dick hardens. Arthur drags his fingertips down, avoids Eames' cock, and strokes Eames' ballsac instead. He's gentle at first, cupping them lightly. As he kneads more firmly, Eames' cock rises into the air and flops back gently against his belly.
Arthur wasn't sure he'd enjoy this experiment with the PASIV--half-expected to be bored playing with a limp body--but Eames is wonderfully responsive like this, even without consciousness and words. Playing with Eames, drawing out his reactions--it's fucking hot.
Arthur slides in closer, repositioning Eames' legs to make it easier to maneuver his lube-slicked fingers against Eames' hole. A fingertip slips in as easily as it always does, body eager and ready to receive.
Pressing in two fingers is as easy as one, and Arthur considers leaving it at that, crooking his fingers over and over until Eames is leaking, until Arthur can't stand not having Eames' cock in his mouth for another instant. But Eames shifts again, legs spreading wider in a wanton invitation for more.
"You love being filled up, don't you?" Arthur murmurs as he inserts a third finger and sees a shudder of pleasure travel through Eames' body. "I'm going to make you come all over yourself."
Arthur begins to fuck his fingers in and out, bent to tease over the prostate with every stroke. He slips his pinky in and bends down to stare, mesmerized by the clutch of Eames' hole, the tiny twitches of his hips.
Eames' cock is hard and covered in precome, liquid dribbling down the shaft, dripping onto Eames' lightly furred belly. Arthur wants to make him come, one finger shy of being fisted, from milking his prostate for all it's worth. But Eames' cock looks sweet and red, delicious enough for Arthur to want a taste, a single lick--
Arthur manages a lick from Eames' balls to under the head before Eames is coming. Messily, thoroughly, thin ropes of it covering his stomach and chest. Arthur watches, dick aching in his pants, and doesn't stop fingering Eames even after he's finished coming. There's only a minute left on the PASIV timer, and maybe Arthur can wring out a second orgasm before Eames wakes up.
He doesn't quite manage a full-blown orgasm, though a trace of liquid emerges from the tip of Eames' cock as his eyes flutter open. Arthur kisses Eames' kneecap and smiles as Eames' gaze meets his.
"That was bloody marvelous," Eames purrs as he hooks one leg behind Arthur's back and drags him forward. "Nearly an hour of continuous orgasm."
"Want to go under again?" Arthur asks as he pulls his fingers out and rubs them on a nearby washcloth.
"Maybe later, after you've given it a go." Eames frees himself from the cannula and sits up, movements languid. "You're still completely dressed."
"I was concentrating on you."
"How considerate." Eames pushes Arthur onto his back and undoes his pants, freeing his cock with deft hands. "Now allow me."
"Fuck yeah," Arthur says, resting his hands behind his head while Eames rolls a condom on and straddles him. "Ride me. Make me come."
They both groan as Eames settles down. He rolls his hips in a move that could be straight out of a porno, and goes to work.
Arthur reaches out to smear the drying come across Eames' pecs and Eames catches his wrist, brings his fingers up to suck individually.
They've been having sex for over a decade. They've done everything two men can do together, and many times over. But there are a few positions that still get Arthur crazy hot--and Eames being on top of Arthur's cock is one of them. Partly because of its relative rarity in their repertoire and partly because of the idea of Eames on display, loving the cock up his ass, turns Arthur on like nothing else.
"Take it, baby," Arthur murmurs. "Move your hips like--yeah, like that."
Eames runs a hand down his own sternum, his ribs. "You want to come all over my chest? Mess me up even more?"
"Fuck yeah, I do." Arthur sits up and pushes Eames onto his back, pulling out and ripping off the condom. He starts to jerk himself while Eames rubs his thigh encouragingly.
He comes, sputtering across Eames' nipples, his chest. Arthur sighs as the last few drops fall onto Eames' belly and rubs the come into Eames' skin clumsily, loving the territorial rush. Once or twice, he's muttered something stupid like, mine, in a post-orgasm haze after coming on Eames. Eames didn't acknowledge it one way or another, thankfully.
"Very well done," Eames rumbles, relaxed and pliant. Usually he allows Arthur half a second to linger like this before charging off to wash up. But maybe orgasming continuously for an hour is the key to putting Eames in a cooperative mood. Arthur makes a mental note for the future.
Arthur drops down for a kiss, savoring the skin to skin contact and the tacky feel of the come between them. "You want me to clean you up in the shower?"
"In a minute." Eames' arms come up to stroke Arthur's back, gaze warm and fond. "You can enjoy this a bit longer."
Arthur relaxes and slumps against Eames, knowing he can handle the weight. "How was your gangbang?"
"Rough and dirty. I used my arse and mouth to service many eager projections." Eames' voice is rich and low. "Is that what you were thinking about?"
"Maybe," Arthur hedges as an inconvenient thought pops into his mind. He tries to push it away but can't quite.
"You weren't thinking about how I was being held open and filled with cock, or how I begged for-"
"I was actually thinking about how I--I love you." Arthur stares over Eames' right shoulder, feels like his kidneys have migrated into the vicinity of his throat, ready to spill out of his mouth if he leans too far forward.
They're just words. He's said it to Eames before, once or twice. Twice, if you count the times his mouth has moved and his voice made it all the way out. Once, if you count the number of times Eames was awake to hear it. Somehow, it hasn't gotten easier.
He's said it to Sudheer dozens of times before, but it never felt like it does with Eames-like Arthur's holding a piece of himself out for Eames' inspection, waiting to see if Eames will roll his eyes. With Sudheer, it felt easy and natural, a line in their carefully scripted play, a step in their dance.
With Eames, Arthur never knows what the next step might be. Mostly he's not even sure they're dancing the same dance. It doesn't bother Arthur as much as he thought it might.
Arthur finally risks a glance. Eames' face looks-gentle, maybe, as gentle as he can ever manage to look. He cups Arthur's cheek and kisses him with a murmured, "And I, you."
Eames never says or does what Arthur expects. It can be confusing, jarring, and occasionally infuriating. But at the end of the day it is always, Arthur thinks, worth the effort.
fin
Poll Fic: May I have the next dream with you