Mirror [Fic]
Title: Mirror
What: More Eames/Arthur smut. (I told you I was obsessed, remember?) From the kink meme prompt: mirrors
Warnings: dont read this at work unless you're brave/stupid
A/N: these two have eaten my brain. for serious
The mirror was dammed big, obscenely large, displayed on the wall before the bed. Eames said as much, but Arthur just smiled, faintly, the corner of his mouth quirking up, a soft curve in the rest of his angular face.
Not that Eames was complaining, mind you. Not when the mirror afforded him such a lovely view.
Clothes are scattered carelessly, Arthur's silk waistcoat overlays Eames dark slacks, jumbled pairs of shoes scattered throughout the room, other bits of expensive and not so expensive clothing are just strewn in a wild, delicious mess.
Eames smiles against the fever hot skin of the back of Arthur's neck, and bits down, hips flexing slightly. He i rewarded with a half groan, and the shifting of Arthur's lithe body as he presses back, the curve of his ass fitting perfectly in the cradle of Eames hips.
"Just like that, darling." The forger purrs into the other man's ear, his breath sticky-hot, and another shiver runs through Arthur and Eames just smiles. "Look at you." He continued, murmuring softly, eyes flicking up to that mirror.
Their reflections peer back, but Eames only has eyes for Arthur, that normally intense, dark gaze hazy, and almost vague, angular cheeks flushed a deep rose, the blush traveling down his throat, and chest, patches of color on that pale skin. He swore he could see the muscles in Arthur's arms ripple as he shifted his weight forward, hands braced between his spread knees. Eames' breath stutters out, and he suddenly slams forward, just to hear Arthur's sharp cry, to watch those dark eyes widen, red, wet lips to part. He groans as well, forehead pressed against Arthur's heaving back, sparing a glance down to watch as his hips roll again, slow this time, just to see that tight muscled ass spread wide, filled with his cock. He lets out a grunt, disguising a whimper, and dragged his face back up to the mirror.
There's a knowing smirk on Arthur's face, and Eames just grows, hands sliding up lean thighs, back to grip at his ass, squeezing, pulling him open even wider. Arthur's eyes flash in that damn mirror, and Eames watches as he bites down on his lower lip, and feels the other man try and squirm back, the muscles of his back rippling against his chest.
"Love being spread open, don't you, darling." He purrs into the other man's ear, "You want it more than anything, pet, it could be my fingers, my cock, a toy, and you wouldn't care, not as long as you have something inside you..." A smirk crosses his features at the half-hearted glare that Arthur tries to give him, belied by his heaving chest, muffled moans.
The smirk just widened, and Eames reaches around, thick finger pushing at Arthur's lips, the tip sliding between crushed-velvet flesh and deep into that warm, wet heat, teeth grazing on callus the rough digit pushing against Arthur's tongue. Eames lets out a shiver as felt that tongue curl around his finger, feels cheeks hollow around it, and he shudders softly, nosing the damp, dark hair curling at Arthur's ear. His eyes flicked up, and caught the way the other man's eyes are practically glowing with anticipation, lips wet and obscene around Eames' thick finger.
He pulls the digit out with a soft 'pop', hand trailing down as he murmurs, "You know what I'm going to do, don't you pet, you know what I'm going to give you, and it's driving you mad." His only response was a shiver that made the long, lean muscles in Arthur's back clench, release, and an unconscious clench of that tight ring of muscles around his cock. His own breath panted out as he mouthes along the clean lines of Arthur's shoulder, and looks up, staring greedily at the mirror for the point man's reaction as he slowly pushes a finger in alongside his cock.
The effect is damn near instantaneous, and Eames watches hungrily as Arthur's head snaps back, a sharp, harsh cry leaving his throat. His hips shoved back desperately, once, twice, and then he's clenching, muscle drawn tight, quivering to an almost painful degree, and another, strangled, bitten off cry leaves him as he cums, staining his belly with seed, the thick, opaque liquid dripping down his heaving stomach.
But Eames only has eyes for the mirror, watching the way Arthur's angular face screws up, dark eyes slamming shut, mouth stretching wide with his cries, that calm veneer finally shattered, broken into pieces.
And Eames cums, and it almost doesn't matter that his cock is deep inside pulsing, clenching heat because he's damn sure that he would have come from watching Arthur. The pleasure slams through him, and almost as if in response he lurches forward, pushing the smaller man forward until he's half draped over the edge of the bed as his hips grind in and down riding out the last waves of heat.
He moves finally, when Arthur makes a rather irritated noise at him, and shoves him none to gently back, though Eames doesn't miss that shudder that runs though him as his cock and finger slip out of him, and just pressed a light kiss between his shoulder blades, lips lingering on sweaty skin.
He gets a grunt in response, but Arthur does turn over, and curls into the warm curve of Eames larger body, one lean arm curling around his back, the other slipping between their bodies, almost possessively resting his hand over Eames' now soft cock. The forger just groans a little, but does lean in, languidly kissing Arthur, tongues tangling. He gets a quiet purr of sorts in response, the sort of sound that Arthur would never admit to making once he wasn't quite so well-fucked. Eames smiles slightly to himself at that thought, and draped his arm over Arthur's waist, holding him in turn, the tips of his fingers playing at the curving line of Arthur's spine.
What: More Eames/Arthur smut. (I told you I was obsessed, remember?) From the kink meme prompt: mirrors
Warnings: dont read this at work unless you're brave/stupid
A/N: these two have eaten my brain. for serious
The mirror was dammed big, obscenely large, displayed on the wall before the bed. Eames said as much, but Arthur just smiled, faintly, the corner of his mouth quirking up, a soft curve in the rest of his angular face.
Not that Eames was complaining, mind you. Not when the mirror afforded him such a lovely view.
Clothes are scattered carelessly, Arthur's silk waistcoat overlays Eames dark slacks, jumbled pairs of shoes scattered throughout the room, other bits of expensive and not so expensive clothing are just strewn in a wild, delicious mess.
Eames smiles against the fever hot skin of the back of Arthur's neck, and bits down, hips flexing slightly. He i rewarded with a half groan, and the shifting of Arthur's lithe body as he presses back, the curve of his ass fitting perfectly in the cradle of Eames hips.
"Just like that, darling." The forger purrs into the other man's ear, his breath sticky-hot, and another shiver runs through Arthur and Eames just smiles. "Look at you." He continued, murmuring softly, eyes flicking up to that mirror.
Their reflections peer back, but Eames only has eyes for Arthur, that normally intense, dark gaze hazy, and almost vague, angular cheeks flushed a deep rose, the blush traveling down his throat, and chest, patches of color on that pale skin. He swore he could see the muscles in Arthur's arms ripple as he shifted his weight forward, hands braced between his spread knees. Eames' breath stutters out, and he suddenly slams forward, just to hear Arthur's sharp cry, to watch those dark eyes widen, red, wet lips to part. He groans as well, forehead pressed against Arthur's heaving back, sparing a glance down to watch as his hips roll again, slow this time, just to see that tight muscled ass spread wide, filled with his cock. He lets out a grunt, disguising a whimper, and dragged his face back up to the mirror.
There's a knowing smirk on Arthur's face, and Eames just grows, hands sliding up lean thighs, back to grip at his ass, squeezing, pulling him open even wider. Arthur's eyes flash in that damn mirror, and Eames watches as he bites down on his lower lip, and feels the other man try and squirm back, the muscles of his back rippling against his chest.
"Love being spread open, don't you, darling." He purrs into the other man's ear, "You want it more than anything, pet, it could be my fingers, my cock, a toy, and you wouldn't care, not as long as you have something inside you..." A smirk crosses his features at the half-hearted glare that Arthur tries to give him, belied by his heaving chest, muffled moans.
The smirk just widened, and Eames reaches around, thick finger pushing at Arthur's lips, the tip sliding between crushed-velvet flesh and deep into that warm, wet heat, teeth grazing on callus the rough digit pushing against Arthur's tongue. Eames lets out a shiver as felt that tongue curl around his finger, feels cheeks hollow around it, and he shudders softly, nosing the damp, dark hair curling at Arthur's ear. His eyes flicked up, and caught the way the other man's eyes are practically glowing with anticipation, lips wet and obscene around Eames' thick finger.
He pulls the digit out with a soft 'pop', hand trailing down as he murmurs, "You know what I'm going to do, don't you pet, you know what I'm going to give you, and it's driving you mad." His only response was a shiver that made the long, lean muscles in Arthur's back clench, release, and an unconscious clench of that tight ring of muscles around his cock. His own breath panted out as he mouthes along the clean lines of Arthur's shoulder, and looks up, staring greedily at the mirror for the point man's reaction as he slowly pushes a finger in alongside his cock.
The effect is damn near instantaneous, and Eames watches hungrily as Arthur's head snaps back, a sharp, harsh cry leaving his throat. His hips shoved back desperately, once, twice, and then he's clenching, muscle drawn tight, quivering to an almost painful degree, and another, strangled, bitten off cry leaves him as he cums, staining his belly with seed, the thick, opaque liquid dripping down his heaving stomach.
But Eames only has eyes for the mirror, watching the way Arthur's angular face screws up, dark eyes slamming shut, mouth stretching wide with his cries, that calm veneer finally shattered, broken into pieces.
And Eames cums, and it almost doesn't matter that his cock is deep inside pulsing, clenching heat because he's damn sure that he would have come from watching Arthur. The pleasure slams through him, and almost as if in response he lurches forward, pushing the smaller man forward until he's half draped over the edge of the bed as his hips grind in and down riding out the last waves of heat.
He moves finally, when Arthur makes a rather irritated noise at him, and shoves him none to gently back, though Eames doesn't miss that shudder that runs though him as his cock and finger slip out of him, and just pressed a light kiss between his shoulder blades, lips lingering on sweaty skin.
He gets a grunt in response, but Arthur does turn over, and curls into the warm curve of Eames larger body, one lean arm curling around his back, the other slipping between their bodies, almost possessively resting his hand over Eames' now soft cock. The forger just groans a little, but does lean in, languidly kissing Arthur, tongues tangling. He gets a quiet purr of sorts in response, the sort of sound that Arthur would never admit to making once he wasn't quite so well-fucked. Eames smiles slightly to himself at that thought, and draped his arm over Arthur's waist, holding him in turn, the tips of his fingers playing at the curving line of Arthur's spine.