[December 22nd] A Slow Moon Mile
A Slow Moon Mile
NC-17
Author : jibrailis | Artist : innueneko
There's a small pile of condoms on the floor, but neither of them give it much thought. Eames slides off the latest condom, tossing it aside. He experiences a pang of regret that it's not Arthur's ass he's getting messy and wet instead. Arthur makes a sound like it's nearly difficult to breathe, and he presses his cheek against the windowsill. When they started this - this fucking, this extravaganza, this marathon - the windowsill had been cold from the snow outside. But over the hours and with the heater, it's warm now, and Arthur shudders as he tries to collect his bearings.
If Arthur is an insensate wreck, legs trembling after multiple orgasms, he's the kind of wreck that whets Eames' appetite for destruction. They were on their way back from Cobb's Prohibition Era themed holiday party when the storm hit. Eames had placed a call to Saito, and Saito had directed them to one of his many rural cabins, where they had barred the door, poured themselves a hot drink, and prepared to wait it out. Except after a while Arthur had looked at Eames with a sharp smile and said, "Want to fuck?"
Arthur is like that a lot; sharpshooting, no fuss. Which is why Eames loves to destroy him like this, loves to peel him out of his skin and press bruises on his hips. The first time, they'd barely taken off their costumes. Now Arthur's shirt is hanging open and his tie dangles raggedly, a piece of ruined silk. Eames slides a hand through the gap in Arthur's shirt, touching his burning skin before traveling upwards to grip the tie. Arthur closes his eyes, and Eames bites him as he positions his cock against Arthur's slack, reddened hole. Arthur's received it so many times now, but still he makes room for Eames. Still he groans as Eames nudges into him.
Eames is wearing his fedora. He looks up at his reflection in the window. He tilts the angle of his hat, rakish. He thrusts into Arthur gently, letting Arthur readjust to the weight of him. "You can take it, darling," Eames murmurs, wrapping his hand around Arthur's tie and yanking. "Don't quit now."
"I know I can take it," Arthur snaps, at the same time he snaps his hips. Eames freezes, surprised by the sudden motion. "I can take it all night. The question is: can you?"
Can he? Eames wonders. It's true that his thighs are starting to tighten and his back is starting to ache, but what's a little discomfort in the face of giving Arthur the ride of his life? Surely that's the higher calling. Arthur makes up his mind for him when he twists backwards and flicks Eames' fedora off. He spider walks his fingers up Eames' cheek, and there's that taunting smile again. Eames wants to fuck that smile off him, so he does. All the while the snow falls, the ice on the window melts, and they come again; quietly, perfectly.
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Happy Birthday, Inny! :)