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Arthur/Eames, for the Kinkmeme prompt found here: Arthur and Eames are in a relationship. Arthur know Eames is a vampire and willingly lets him feed etc. Eames can't imagine living without Arthur, and the two have discussed the possibility of turning Arthur, but Eames is hesitant. Then, while on a job, Arthur is fatally wounded. Arthur is aware enough to give Eames permission to turn him and let him know that he really does want to be with Eames forever, so all of Eames' doubt leaves him and they live happily ever after
If you throw in some h/c during the whole transformation to vampire process, I'll be extremely happy and give lots of love to anyone who fills this, but it is not a requirement! :)
Everything hurt.
That was all he could focus on right at the moment. He'd been shot, and he was going to die. He was going to bleed out on the floor of the classroom they'd been using as a base of operations. He knew he was going to die, and all he could think of was Eames.
----
"You don't seem terribly surprised by this, Arthur."
"Because I'm not."
"Not by any of it?"
"A little more surprised by the fact that you've wanted me as long as you have without acting on it than I am by the vampire thing."
"Is that what we're calling it? 'The Vampire Thing'?"
"What would you like me to call it, Eames?"
"That would be best, I think, that being my name and all."
----
"Arthur!"
Reality snapped back into sharp, painful, focus, Eames was kneeling beside him, behind him, Arthur's head resting on the Forger's lap. Arthur smiled, "Eames. I want you to. I'm ready."
Eames didn't have to ask what Arthur meant, it was an offer he'd made a few times, always met with hesitation, trepidation, and ultimately a decline.
Eames ran his fingers lightly over the other man's hair, "I don't want to lose you, Arthur, but are you sure?" The man's mind was strong enough to make the change, Eames knew that much, but not wanting to die was different than wanting to live, and that difference could fester, cause discord.
Arthur's fingers rested on Eames' cheek, leaving tacky, barely-warm spots of blood against his skin, "What do you need me to say, Eames? I, Arthur..." A pained grimace interrupted him, but he continued a moment later, "Being of sound mind, if not exactly sound body, do humbly request that you, Eames, the man I love, please..." He was cut off by another grimace and a soft, wounded-animal sound in the back of his throat.
Eames caught the hand against his cheek, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to the center of Arthur's palm, "You won't have to go that far." He murmured. He could see how pale the man already was, but Arthur's eyes were still clear.
The Point's lower lip quavered for a brief moment, "I can't lose you, Eames, don't make me go on alone."
Eames shook his head, fingers brushing over Arthur's hair again, "Hush, Arthur, it's alright, I've got you." He knew that there wasn't much time, if Arthur wasn't exactly at Death's door yet, he was definitely on the porch, "I've got you." He murmured again, turning Arthur's hand gently, exposing his wrist and the delicate tracery of veins there.
He bit down, holding his lover's arm in place. He knew he didn't have to take much, Arthur was already close, just a mouthful, a couple of swallows, and it worried him that he actually had to draw at the wound to get anything at all.
He finally let Arthur's arm fall, laying it gently across his chest. He dug into his own wrist then, knowing that he had to make the wound deep so that Arthur would get enough before it closed again, "Drink, Arthur." It wasn't a request, not really, though the gentle fingers through Arthur's hair softened it a little so that it wasn't really a command either.
Arthur almost gagged on the first swallow, but he was better prepared for the next, and the one after, clinging weakly to Eames' arm, but with an undeniable desperation.
By the time Eames' wrist healed Arthur was shaking, a fine, all-over tremor. Eames continued stroking his hair, "Just relax, Arthur, next is the hard part." For both of them, really, Arthur for having to go through it, and Eames for having to sit and wait and hope.
Arthur relaxed slowly, breathing evening out and finally evaporating completely, letting Eames' touch soothe him, using that touch as an anchor, grounding himself.
----
"Why haven't you bitten me yet?"
The question catches him by surprise, especially in Arthur's relaxed, half-sleepy tone.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd want me to."
Arthur's brow furrows, fingers sliding along Eames' arm, "I can feel what it takes from you not to. Especially in the heat of the moment, so to speak, how hard it is for you not to. It's instinct, isn't it?"
Eames nods, realizing that he should have known Arthur could read him like a book, "It is, yes, though I try not to feed from my lovers, especially not in your so-called heat of the moment. It can be... intense, even at the best of times."
Arthur nods as well, fingers still trailing back and forth over the other man's arm, "But we're not in the heat of the moment now." He pauses, studying Eames' face, knowing that he's going to come up with another excuse, "I want you to, Eames. I want to know, and I don't want you to deny who and what you are because of me. You never have before."
Eames studies Arthur as well, as if trying to see any uncertainty or untruth, finally he nods, "Alright." He shifts over, sitting up and motioning for Arthur to do the same, drawing the Point back against his chest, "It's easiest this way." He explains, arm curling around his lover, across Arthur's chest, fingers resting against his jaw, gently angling his head away as he nuzzles along the other man's throat, savoring the heat of his skin and the thrum of his pulse, "Just relax." He finally murmurs against Arthur's skin, sending a fissure of pleasure skidding down Arthur's spine.
He continues to nuzzle for a few more moments, until Arthur relaxes against him, and then he bites down, as quick and smooth as a striking snake, his eyes flutter closed at the first salt-sweet rush across his tongue, making a low sound in his throat, hungry and pleased.
Arthur doesn't even realize that he's lifted a hand to tangle it through Eames' hair, preventing him from drawing away easily, though he understands now why Eames tries to avoid this during sex, it is intense, and while it doesn't exactly hurt, he knows that it very easily could.
For a few unbelievably long moments Arthur can't tell if he's hard again, coming again, or something else entirely, all he knows is that Eames is everywhere, and when Eames finally, inexorably draws away, Arthur feels wrecked and empty and abandoned, slumping against the other man's hold on him, taking a shuddering breath as deeply as he can manage, "I get it now." He says, relaxing back against Eames, warm and solid behind him, "Why you don't." Eames just nods, nuzzling at the crook of Arthur's throat again, loath to draw away from the pulse fluttering under his skin, finally just stretching out, drawing Arthur along with him, half-tangled around him.
----
Arthur arched sharply, making a choked-off cry and Eames winced, catching hold of the other man's wrists so that he didn't claw at himself. This was the worst part, the waiting was the hardest, but the actual transformation was the worst. The hole in Arthur's side was healing, slowly but surely, and after a moment the bullets were rejected by his new body, landing with two sad little clicks on the floor, though Arthur was hardly conscious of this, still making pained sounds, writhing against Eames' hold.
"I know it hurts, Arthur." He wasn't sure if the Point was coherent enough yet to actually process the words, but talking made him feel better, so he was going to, "I know it does, it burns, but you need to take control of that pain, Arthur, you need to master it, it's the last of who you were dying." He dipped his head to press a kiss to Arthur's temple, still holding him down, grip tightening as Arthur arched again, "You've already died, Arthur, and come through on the other side, I need you to remember who you are, don't let the pain win, keep hold of it, focus it, control it. Let it take away the parts you don't need."
It was a few long minutes before Arthur relaxed against Eames again in stages, just a little at a time, finally slumping completely against his hold, though Eames held on just a little longer, until Arthur's voice, quiet and a little rougher than usual, came through: "You can let go now, Eames. I'm better." Eames nodded, kissing his lover's temple once more before letting him go, carefully, studying him once more even as he cast his mind out to find the man who'd shot Arthur, his smile emerged, dark and amused when he found him, just clamping down on his mind, willing him to return.
"You have to feed before you're finished with the transformation, Arthur, and you'll feel better once you have, I promise you that."
Arthur's breath caught sharply, focusing on the doorway as the shooter returned, and Eames suspected it was mostly due to scenting the man's fear. He kept a firm hold of the man's mind, smiling slowly as he helped Arthur to his feet, "That's your first meal, pet. Do you need me to show you how it's done?"
Arthur knew where the jugular was, and the carotid, and he knew that he could get ahold of either one without help, but something about the idea of Eames there to point them out to him just felt right and set something like desire pooling in the pit of his stomach. He nodded once, "Show me."
Eames dusted himself off, circling around behind the shooter, brow arching over the man's shoulder at Arthur, who was standing stock-still, as if absorbing all the details of the room. Eames caught a handful of the man's hair, yanking his head to the side to expose his throat, "No, you're not imagining things." He said, his voice low, almost gentle, "You shot him, and he did die, but he's back now, and he's going to return the favor, only fair, don't you think?" The fingers of his free hand slid down the man's neck, tugging his collar out of the way, watching the way Arthur's focus shifted, eyes dilating a little further, almost impossibly, just the barest edge of color around blown-wide pupils.
His fingers covered the pulse point at the shooter's neck, feeling the rabbit-kick tremble of his pulse, "Right here, love. Come closer, make it quick, take too long and you'll just make a mess, digging for it, gets blood everywhere." Arthur padded forward, moving carefully, as if getting used to the new power humming under his skin, the knowledge that he was stronger and faster and just more than his new prey. Eames smiled, slow and dangerous, "Should I let him go?" Arthur just nodded once, the movement short, barely there, still wholly focused. Eames nodded in turn, releasing his hold of the man's mind before releasing his physical hold on him, amused as he darted forward, trying to get around Arthur. But the Point seemed to blur for a moment, catching him easily, as if he'd been standing still.
As far as Eames was concerned, the way Arthur moved was a thing of beauty, it always had been, but it was even moreso now, watching Arthur automatically trust his new instincts, finding the right spot to bite on the first try, not spilling anything. He snarled as he fed, low and throbbing in his chest, ignoring the high keening sounds the shooter was making, keeping the man's arms pinned as he fed. Eames was ready to intervene so that Arthur didn't keep feeding once the man had died, didn't get caught up in the pull of it himself, but that was another instinct Arthur trusted instinctively as well, dropping the man and letting him crumple just before the final spark of life went out.
Arthur smiled and Eames stepped forward, reaching up to trace his thumb over the berry-bright smear of blood at the corner of Arthur's mouth, about to lick it off his own thumb when Arthur's nimble fingers closed against his wrist, leaning in to lick the smear away himself, "Better. Much better." Eames couldn't help but smile at that, nodding once, his voice little more than a warm murmur once more, "Good, then let's get you home."
If you throw in some h/c during the whole transformation to vampire process, I'll be extremely happy and give lots of love to anyone who fills this, but it is not a requirement! :)
Everything hurt.
That was all he could focus on right at the moment. He'd been shot, and he was going to die. He was going to bleed out on the floor of the classroom they'd been using as a base of operations. He knew he was going to die, and all he could think of was Eames.
----
"You don't seem terribly surprised by this, Arthur."
"Because I'm not."
"Not by any of it?"
"A little more surprised by the fact that you've wanted me as long as you have without acting on it than I am by the vampire thing."
"Is that what we're calling it? 'The Vampire Thing'?"
"What would you like me to call it, Eames?"
"That would be best, I think, that being my name and all."
----
"Arthur!"
Reality snapped back into sharp, painful, focus, Eames was kneeling beside him, behind him, Arthur's head resting on the Forger's lap. Arthur smiled, "Eames. I want you to. I'm ready."
Eames didn't have to ask what Arthur meant, it was an offer he'd made a few times, always met with hesitation, trepidation, and ultimately a decline.
Eames ran his fingers lightly over the other man's hair, "I don't want to lose you, Arthur, but are you sure?" The man's mind was strong enough to make the change, Eames knew that much, but not wanting to die was different than wanting to live, and that difference could fester, cause discord.
Arthur's fingers rested on Eames' cheek, leaving tacky, barely-warm spots of blood against his skin, "What do you need me to say, Eames? I, Arthur..." A pained grimace interrupted him, but he continued a moment later, "Being of sound mind, if not exactly sound body, do humbly request that you, Eames, the man I love, please..." He was cut off by another grimace and a soft, wounded-animal sound in the back of his throat.
Eames caught the hand against his cheek, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to the center of Arthur's palm, "You won't have to go that far." He murmured. He could see how pale the man already was, but Arthur's eyes were still clear.
The Point's lower lip quavered for a brief moment, "I can't lose you, Eames, don't make me go on alone."
Eames shook his head, fingers brushing over Arthur's hair again, "Hush, Arthur, it's alright, I've got you." He knew that there wasn't much time, if Arthur wasn't exactly at Death's door yet, he was definitely on the porch, "I've got you." He murmured again, turning Arthur's hand gently, exposing his wrist and the delicate tracery of veins there.
He bit down, holding his lover's arm in place. He knew he didn't have to take much, Arthur was already close, just a mouthful, a couple of swallows, and it worried him that he actually had to draw at the wound to get anything at all.
He finally let Arthur's arm fall, laying it gently across his chest. He dug into his own wrist then, knowing that he had to make the wound deep so that Arthur would get enough before it closed again, "Drink, Arthur." It wasn't a request, not really, though the gentle fingers through Arthur's hair softened it a little so that it wasn't really a command either.
Arthur almost gagged on the first swallow, but he was better prepared for the next, and the one after, clinging weakly to Eames' arm, but with an undeniable desperation.
By the time Eames' wrist healed Arthur was shaking, a fine, all-over tremor. Eames continued stroking his hair, "Just relax, Arthur, next is the hard part." For both of them, really, Arthur for having to go through it, and Eames for having to sit and wait and hope.
Arthur relaxed slowly, breathing evening out and finally evaporating completely, letting Eames' touch soothe him, using that touch as an anchor, grounding himself.
----
"Why haven't you bitten me yet?"
The question catches him by surprise, especially in Arthur's relaxed, half-sleepy tone.
"I wouldn't have thought you'd want me to."
Arthur's brow furrows, fingers sliding along Eames' arm, "I can feel what it takes from you not to. Especially in the heat of the moment, so to speak, how hard it is for you not to. It's instinct, isn't it?"
Eames nods, realizing that he should have known Arthur could read him like a book, "It is, yes, though I try not to feed from my lovers, especially not in your so-called heat of the moment. It can be... intense, even at the best of times."
Arthur nods as well, fingers still trailing back and forth over the other man's arm, "But we're not in the heat of the moment now." He pauses, studying Eames' face, knowing that he's going to come up with another excuse, "I want you to, Eames. I want to know, and I don't want you to deny who and what you are because of me. You never have before."
Eames studies Arthur as well, as if trying to see any uncertainty or untruth, finally he nods, "Alright." He shifts over, sitting up and motioning for Arthur to do the same, drawing the Point back against his chest, "It's easiest this way." He explains, arm curling around his lover, across Arthur's chest, fingers resting against his jaw, gently angling his head away as he nuzzles along the other man's throat, savoring the heat of his skin and the thrum of his pulse, "Just relax." He finally murmurs against Arthur's skin, sending a fissure of pleasure skidding down Arthur's spine.
He continues to nuzzle for a few more moments, until Arthur relaxes against him, and then he bites down, as quick and smooth as a striking snake, his eyes flutter closed at the first salt-sweet rush across his tongue, making a low sound in his throat, hungry and pleased.
Arthur doesn't even realize that he's lifted a hand to tangle it through Eames' hair, preventing him from drawing away easily, though he understands now why Eames tries to avoid this during sex, it is intense, and while it doesn't exactly hurt, he knows that it very easily could.
For a few unbelievably long moments Arthur can't tell if he's hard again, coming again, or something else entirely, all he knows is that Eames is everywhere, and when Eames finally, inexorably draws away, Arthur feels wrecked and empty and abandoned, slumping against the other man's hold on him, taking a shuddering breath as deeply as he can manage, "I get it now." He says, relaxing back against Eames, warm and solid behind him, "Why you don't." Eames just nods, nuzzling at the crook of Arthur's throat again, loath to draw away from the pulse fluttering under his skin, finally just stretching out, drawing Arthur along with him, half-tangled around him.
----
Arthur arched sharply, making a choked-off cry and Eames winced, catching hold of the other man's wrists so that he didn't claw at himself. This was the worst part, the waiting was the hardest, but the actual transformation was the worst. The hole in Arthur's side was healing, slowly but surely, and after a moment the bullets were rejected by his new body, landing with two sad little clicks on the floor, though Arthur was hardly conscious of this, still making pained sounds, writhing against Eames' hold.
"I know it hurts, Arthur." He wasn't sure if the Point was coherent enough yet to actually process the words, but talking made him feel better, so he was going to, "I know it does, it burns, but you need to take control of that pain, Arthur, you need to master it, it's the last of who you were dying." He dipped his head to press a kiss to Arthur's temple, still holding him down, grip tightening as Arthur arched again, "You've already died, Arthur, and come through on the other side, I need you to remember who you are, don't let the pain win, keep hold of it, focus it, control it. Let it take away the parts you don't need."
It was a few long minutes before Arthur relaxed against Eames again in stages, just a little at a time, finally slumping completely against his hold, though Eames held on just a little longer, until Arthur's voice, quiet and a little rougher than usual, came through: "You can let go now, Eames. I'm better." Eames nodded, kissing his lover's temple once more before letting him go, carefully, studying him once more even as he cast his mind out to find the man who'd shot Arthur, his smile emerged, dark and amused when he found him, just clamping down on his mind, willing him to return.
"You have to feed before you're finished with the transformation, Arthur, and you'll feel better once you have, I promise you that."
Arthur's breath caught sharply, focusing on the doorway as the shooter returned, and Eames suspected it was mostly due to scenting the man's fear. He kept a firm hold of the man's mind, smiling slowly as he helped Arthur to his feet, "That's your first meal, pet. Do you need me to show you how it's done?"
Arthur knew where the jugular was, and the carotid, and he knew that he could get ahold of either one without help, but something about the idea of Eames there to point them out to him just felt right and set something like desire pooling in the pit of his stomach. He nodded once, "Show me."
Eames dusted himself off, circling around behind the shooter, brow arching over the man's shoulder at Arthur, who was standing stock-still, as if absorbing all the details of the room. Eames caught a handful of the man's hair, yanking his head to the side to expose his throat, "No, you're not imagining things." He said, his voice low, almost gentle, "You shot him, and he did die, but he's back now, and he's going to return the favor, only fair, don't you think?" The fingers of his free hand slid down the man's neck, tugging his collar out of the way, watching the way Arthur's focus shifted, eyes dilating a little further, almost impossibly, just the barest edge of color around blown-wide pupils.
His fingers covered the pulse point at the shooter's neck, feeling the rabbit-kick tremble of his pulse, "Right here, love. Come closer, make it quick, take too long and you'll just make a mess, digging for it, gets blood everywhere." Arthur padded forward, moving carefully, as if getting used to the new power humming under his skin, the knowledge that he was stronger and faster and just more than his new prey. Eames smiled, slow and dangerous, "Should I let him go?" Arthur just nodded once, the movement short, barely there, still wholly focused. Eames nodded in turn, releasing his hold of the man's mind before releasing his physical hold on him, amused as he darted forward, trying to get around Arthur. But the Point seemed to blur for a moment, catching him easily, as if he'd been standing still.
As far as Eames was concerned, the way Arthur moved was a thing of beauty, it always had been, but it was even moreso now, watching Arthur automatically trust his new instincts, finding the right spot to bite on the first try, not spilling anything. He snarled as he fed, low and throbbing in his chest, ignoring the high keening sounds the shooter was making, keeping the man's arms pinned as he fed. Eames was ready to intervene so that Arthur didn't keep feeding once the man had died, didn't get caught up in the pull of it himself, but that was another instinct Arthur trusted instinctively as well, dropping the man and letting him crumple just before the final spark of life went out.
Arthur smiled and Eames stepped forward, reaching up to trace his thumb over the berry-bright smear of blood at the corner of Arthur's mouth, about to lick it off his own thumb when Arthur's nimble fingers closed against his wrist, leaning in to lick the smear away himself, "Better. Much better." Eames couldn't help but smile at that, nodding once, his voice little more than a warm murmur once more, "Good, then let's get you home."