[December 25th] The Bells Are Ringing Out
The Bells Are Ringing Out
NC-17 - 1696 Words
Author : chibi_lurrel | Artist : sandrocks & Anonymous
Sequel to You'll hear voices by starlight.
Arthur’s pinned on the somewhat threadbare couch of their safehouse, a little one bedroom that currently smells like cookies and Crème de Menthe. Eames is stretched over him, their legs tangled, and he’s worked Arthur’s sweater off and is running hands up and down his ribs, tracing little nothings and watching Arthur sigh.
He’s warm and drunk and responsive, kissing sloppy and making delectable sounds every time Eames bites at his lower lip or runs a thumb over his nipple.
Eames is thinking about tying him up with the ribbon he’d pulled off him an hour before, wrapping his arms to his bare chest and having his wicked way with him. He’s thinking about this as he wraps his hands around Arthur’s narrow, still-clothed hips when the music coming from Arthur’s laptop suddenly breaks his concentration.
“Why is this on your Christmas playlist, Arthur?”
“Are you judging my taste in carols here?” Arthur asks, a slight smile curling reddened lips.
“It’s just not very traditional,” Eames says, mouthing Arthur’s jaw and rubbing his neck red with stubble.
“So happy Christmas, I love you baby,” Arthur sings, alcohol making the words slide together in his gruff baritone. “I can see a better time, when all our dreams come true.”
Eames laughs and bites him in the shoulder, Arthur groaning and thrusting up from under him.
“I’m not singing along - and it’s terribly unfair for you to make me take the woman’s part,” he says and Arthur huffs a laugh beneath him. “What’s wrong with some songs that don’t involved being incarcerated over the hols?”
“Maybe I just really fucking love the Pogues, okay?”
Eames looks thoughtfully at the laptop on the side table. “I wonder what other musical treasures your mp3 collection holds.” He reaches out over Arthur, who grabs his arm and pulls it back down to his chest.
“Hey, none of that,” he says, and Eames then goes for the ribbon discarded on the carpet.
“I could just tie you up and then snoop to my heart’s content.”
“I could just break your nose,” Arthur says. “But you can if you want.”
Eames smiles as he clambers to stand over Arthur, who stays splayed out on the couch.
“I can dig through your computer?” he asks, grinning.
“You can tie me up, dick,” Arthur says, and presents his wrists in front of him.
by sandrocks | Original Size
Eames grabs his slim wrists with one hand and pushes him into a sitting position on the couch.
“Let me wrap you up again,” Eames says, and he turns Arthur to the side. Arthur’s surprisingly pliant, watching him with a lazy grin as he twists his arms up against his back and wraps the long piece of red fabric around his arms and chest twice, tying a tight knot, and then using the excess to loosely bind his wrists together as an afterthought. Eames’ knows better than to try anything too serious when he feels warm and muzzyheaded like this, but it’s a nice artifice.
Arthur wriggles and flexes his hands. “Seems a little counterintuitive,” he says, and then Eames busies himself unbuckling Arthur’s belt. Arthur manages to get off his shoes as Eames pulls his briefs and trousers down in a jerk, Arthur obliging by lifting off the couch.
“This is quite the pretty picture,” Eames says, taking a step back to look at Arthur, flushed cheeks and neck, naked on except for a crisscross of red across his chest. His cock is hard and looks incredibly inviting.
What Eames loves about Arthur, sometimes, is not the fact that he could probably untangle himself in under sixty seconds, but that he doesn’t. That he’s drunk and grinning and trusting right now. And he loves that he’s the only one who really gets to see Arthur open like this, unguarded. Eames drops to his knees in front of the couch.
He also likes making him come undone. Eames like to tease, and it’s even better when Arthur’s tied up and forced to stay still. Eames’ hands press down on his thighs as he licks slowly up Arthur’s cock. He hears him gasp, feels the muscles under his hands tighten, and takes just the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the slit.
“Jesus, Eames,” Arthur says, hips pushing up to get deeper into his slick mouth, so Eames backs off, just lapping at the underside of his dick until Arthur groans and twists in frustration.
“I think,” he grunts out, “I’ve been a good enough boy this year that you could be less of a tease.”
Eames grins, then moves a hand to take the base of Arthur’s cock firmly, stretching his lips over the rest of it, sucking and jacking him in tandem until Arthur is boneless again, cursing softly in pleasure, not even bucking into his mouth.
He can feel it when the tension returns to Arthur’s legs, the quiver in his thighs and how he stops saying words and is reduced to shallow panting and noises. Eames moves his hand to tease at his balls and thinks that now would be a good time to take him deep, because he feels good like this, Arthur’s cock heavy on his tongue and his sounds in his ears. He slides his mouth over the rest of his cock, sucking him down his throat.
He’s made a huge miscalculation as to how drunk he is, because the head of Arthur’s cock slams into the back of his throat with little finesse. His eyes water and he gags, choking, and he jerks his mouth off Arthur’s dick and coughs. He rests his head against Arthur’s thigh while he catches his breath, and he can see Arthur struggle a bit in his festive bonds, looking like he wants to break free and do something comforting. Or like he wants his hands free to finish the job.
Eames smiles up at him and says hoarsely “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got a better idea,” as he starts to stand up.
“What,” Arthur says, strung out and wide eyed, “could possibly be a better idea than finishing that blowjob?”
“Fucking you stupid?” Eames asks and then presses a hard kiss against Arthur’s parted lips until he’s squirming again, unable to touch anything, his toes curling in the beige carpeting.
“I guess that’d be okay, too,” Arthur says. “Are you going to untie me?”
Eames laughs and ducks, putting a shoulder under Arthur’s chest and lifting him off the couch, fireman-carry style.
Arthur yelps and kicks his legs ineffectively as Eames bends over to shut his laptop, ending the seemingly infinite holiday playlist with a click.
“But seriously, I can’t fuck with Handel’s Messiah playing in the background.”
At that, Arthur laughs and Eames can feel the vibrations through his chest as he walks them into the bedroom and deposits Arthur, naked and still tied, ass up on the bed. The room is dim, lit only by the streetlights outside, and Arthur’s skin is pale and inviting and Eames leans and bites the curve of his ass lightly, making Arthur yelp again.
“Stay there, love,” Eames says and busies himself with getting undressed.
He pulls off his shirt and is taking off his pants before he notices that Arthur’s untied himself and is tossing the ribbon aside.
Eames is still wearing socks when Arthur grabs him and pulls him onto the bed, rolling him on his back and rubbing their cocks together. Arthur’s still slick from spit and precome. Eames groans and grips Arthur’s shoulders. His control has been instantly unraveled by this, Arthur taking and demanding and right fucking there, making a wonderful sound when their cocks rut against each other.
“I got tired of waiting,” Arthur says and he nips at Eames’ ear, earning a groan.
Eames reaches down and fists both their cocks, making Arthur grind a little harder. His hipbones are digging into Eames uncomfortably, and they both move in for the kiss at the same time, knocking teeth together until Arthur pushes his tongue into Eames’ mouth, wet and hot and hungry.
Eames bites down on Arthur’s bottom lip and tugs at it, and Arthur shivers and suddenly comes, gasping but not still. The afterglow of pleasure is still evident in his limbs as he moves to kneel between Eames’ legs.
Arthur runs his hand through the mess on Eames’ stomach, using his own come to slick up Eames’ cock as he starts to jack him off. Eames realizes he can’t stand how slow he’s going and he whines, a little, maybe gasps out a “Please.”
Arthur looks up at him, eyes mischievous and glittering as he slowly, slowly wraps his mouth around Eames’ dick, some spit running down his chin as he takes more and more of his cock in his mouth with each bob of his head. It’s sloppy and drunk, but Eames is losing himself to the wet heat of Arthur’s throat, the filthy noises and the way his lips are stretched around his dick.
And Arthur, it turns out, has no trouble deep throating while muddled with alcohol - each time his swallows around the head of his cock gets an almost pained moan out of Eames. Arthur’s eyes are shut in concentration now as his nose brushes up against the coarse hair above his cock, breath warm. Eames can’t resist winding his fingers into Arthur’s hair and tugging, just a little, until Arthur groans around his dick. He tightens his grip and thrusts once, hard, into his throat, making Arthur’s eyes pop open, and Eames’ orgasm snaps through his hips, warm and languid.
Arthur tries, really, to swallow everything, but come ends up on his face and mouth, anyway. He just grins and runs a tongue over his teeth once he’s done swallowing, and then he slides up the bed again, resting his head against Eames’ shoulder, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
by Anonymous
“This is a mess,” he says, still smiling, and kisses him once.
Eames runs a hand through his hair, soothing this time, and Arthur hums in appreciation.
Or, he’s humming the Pogues. Either way, Eames falls almost instantly asleep.