fic: DISTRACTIONS MAY HAPPEN
Title: DISTRACTIONS MAY HAPPEN
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1066
Summary: Sequel to JOB REQUIREMENTS. Eames has a question for Arthur, but Arthur prefers the distraction.
Notes: Thanks, as always, to R. ♥
"It's nearly Christmas," Eames says, and Arthur makes a noncommittal noise, clicking around on his laptop without looking up.
"So we'll probably be staying here through the holidays," Eames says, voice lilting up just slightly to make it half a question. Arthur nods, typing now, trying to recall how he meant to end his sentence.
"Arthur," Eames says impatiently. "Can I please have your attention for a moment?"
Arthur's fingers pause on his keys. It is, in fact, Eames' sincere voice. He blinks at the email he's composing, then makes sure to save a draft before closing the lid. "Yes, Eames, you have my full, undivided attention. If this interruption is to tell me about the laundry piling up again, I'll be withholding sex for a week."
Eames snorts. Yeah, they both know that's not entirely true. Still, Eames had to work fairly hard to make up for his previous mistake. "Trust me, darling, I learned my lesson the first time. No, this is about Christmas evening."
Arthur raises his eyebrows. "I don't usually get into the celebrations very much," he warns. "If you have any extravagant traditions, they may not make a lot of sense to me."
Eames takes Arthur's hand to lift him out of the desk chair, and Arthur fits against his body in an instant. Eames smiles, merely enjoying the proximity for a moment before fitting his lips to Arthur's. Arthur hums into the kiss, not sure what brought on the display of affection but enjoying it nonetheless.
"What am I going to do with you?" Eames murmurs, mostly to himself.
"I can think of a few things," Arthur suggests, letting his hands take care of the implications.
Eames makes an encouraging noise, but then says, "Stop trying to distract me. I'm trying to talk about Christmas."
"You started it," Arthur says, his cold fingers warming up as they slide past the hem of Eames' pants over warm skin. Eames arches away from the cold touch and into Arthur, an action that meets Arthur's approval completely.
"Gallifrey," Eames says.
When he doesn't elaborate, merely pulling Arthur closer, Arthur has to ask, "What, is that our new safe word?"
"That would imply that I wanted you to stop," he says with a gasp, grinding up against Arthur to create a delightful friction. "No, my internet password, Gallifrey. You recognized it when I gave it to you."
"Yes?" Arthur says, maneuvering Eames until he's back against the desk and sliding a leg between Eames'.
"Fuck," Eames mutters, taking Arthur's face in both of his hands and pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Arthur never tires of learning about all the things Eames can do with his tongue, and pretty soon his jeans are feeling uncomfortably tight, and he's sure Eames is having a similar problem.
"Wait, hang on," Eames says, panting, as Arthur's fingers work deftly at his belt. Arthur doesn't pause in his work; he knows Eames is trying to gather his thoughts, not stop whatever they've started. "Bloody hell, I know there was a point to this."
"In your own time," Arthur says with a smirk, leaning down to bite at Eames' neck as he pulls the belt free of its loops.
Eames' noise of triumph as he remembers transforms into a pleased moan as Arthur's teeth work at his pulse point, but he trudges on. "Doctor Who. Arthur, are you a Whovian?"
Arthur lavishes his tongue over the spot before pulling away, staring back at Eames with a blank look. "You want to talk about this now?" he says, disbelieving.
"This is what we're meant to be talking about!" Eames says in protest, belying the implication to stop by beginning his own work at Arthur's zipper. "Come on, love, just answer the question," he pleads, running his knuckles against the line of Arthur's cock through his briefs.
If it means Eames will get his hand on Arthur's cock sooner, fuck, Arthur will say anything. "Yes, I grew up on Doctor Who. My parents were big fans." He hisses as Eames' knuckles make their way back down. "When they reference old Who in the new seasons, I always pick up on it. I don't understand what this has to do with anything."
Eames chuckles, drawing his hand back. "Christmas night, darling. Christmas special. I thought we might watch it together."
"Oh yeah," Arthur says. He'd honestly forgotten. Though, in his defense, he has other things on his mind at the moment - namely, regaining the upper hand with Eames.
"Grew up with it, eh?" Eames says, delighted. "I have so many questions--"
The rest of his sentence gets choked off as Arthur gives his pants and boxers a good tug, freeing his cock and taking it firmly in hand in one quick movement. "You were saying?"
"It can wait," Eames says, hips shifting in an attempt to get Arthur to move his hand. He does, pumping just once, but he knows even before Eames' hiss that it's nothing more than a further tease. Eames hands come to Arthur's hips, pushing ineffectively at his jeans. "Arthur, please."
Arthur pulls back long enough to hook his thumbs into his own clothes and pull them down, and when he pushes up against Eames, fisting their cocks together, it feels amazing. It's even better when Eames reaches down to do the same, even better when the slide of their hands gets slick with precome, even better when Eames presses his other hand against the middle of Arthur's back to pull him in and fuck his tongue into Arthur's mouth.
Eventually, Eames' grip tightens and Arthur moves right along with him, taking control of the kiss as Eames tenses further. Arthur can feel his own orgasm building as Eames gasps and comes, and with just a few more frantic pulls on his own cock, Arthur is spilling out over their hands.
As Arthur feels his breathing slowing more toward normal, Eames cups his neck and pulls him in to kiss him sweetly. Arthur's already got his hands fitted casually against Eames' hips before he realizes the mess he's spreading onto Eames' shirt. "Fuck, now I do need to do laundry."
Eames just laughs.
******
That night, when Arthur goes into the kitchen, he sees the list long mislabeled as 'JOB REQUIREMENTS' now has an addition:
GALLIFREY IS THE OPPOSITE OF A SAFE WORD.
THE END
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1066
Summary: Sequel to JOB REQUIREMENTS. Eames has a question for Arthur, but Arthur prefers the distraction.
Notes: Thanks, as always, to R. ♥
"It's nearly Christmas," Eames says, and Arthur makes a noncommittal noise, clicking around on his laptop without looking up.
"So we'll probably be staying here through the holidays," Eames says, voice lilting up just slightly to make it half a question. Arthur nods, typing now, trying to recall how he meant to end his sentence.
"Arthur," Eames says impatiently. "Can I please have your attention for a moment?"
Arthur's fingers pause on his keys. It is, in fact, Eames' sincere voice. He blinks at the email he's composing, then makes sure to save a draft before closing the lid. "Yes, Eames, you have my full, undivided attention. If this interruption is to tell me about the laundry piling up again, I'll be withholding sex for a week."
Eames snorts. Yeah, they both know that's not entirely true. Still, Eames had to work fairly hard to make up for his previous mistake. "Trust me, darling, I learned my lesson the first time. No, this is about Christmas evening."
Arthur raises his eyebrows. "I don't usually get into the celebrations very much," he warns. "If you have any extravagant traditions, they may not make a lot of sense to me."
Eames takes Arthur's hand to lift him out of the desk chair, and Arthur fits against his body in an instant. Eames smiles, merely enjoying the proximity for a moment before fitting his lips to Arthur's. Arthur hums into the kiss, not sure what brought on the display of affection but enjoying it nonetheless.
"What am I going to do with you?" Eames murmurs, mostly to himself.
"I can think of a few things," Arthur suggests, letting his hands take care of the implications.
Eames makes an encouraging noise, but then says, "Stop trying to distract me. I'm trying to talk about Christmas."
"You started it," Arthur says, his cold fingers warming up as they slide past the hem of Eames' pants over warm skin. Eames arches away from the cold touch and into Arthur, an action that meets Arthur's approval completely.
"Gallifrey," Eames says.
When he doesn't elaborate, merely pulling Arthur closer, Arthur has to ask, "What, is that our new safe word?"
"That would imply that I wanted you to stop," he says with a gasp, grinding up against Arthur to create a delightful friction. "No, my internet password, Gallifrey. You recognized it when I gave it to you."
"Yes?" Arthur says, maneuvering Eames until he's back against the desk and sliding a leg between Eames'.
"Fuck," Eames mutters, taking Arthur's face in both of his hands and pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Arthur never tires of learning about all the things Eames can do with his tongue, and pretty soon his jeans are feeling uncomfortably tight, and he's sure Eames is having a similar problem.
"Wait, hang on," Eames says, panting, as Arthur's fingers work deftly at his belt. Arthur doesn't pause in his work; he knows Eames is trying to gather his thoughts, not stop whatever they've started. "Bloody hell, I know there was a point to this."
"In your own time," Arthur says with a smirk, leaning down to bite at Eames' neck as he pulls the belt free of its loops.
Eames' noise of triumph as he remembers transforms into a pleased moan as Arthur's teeth work at his pulse point, but he trudges on. "Doctor Who. Arthur, are you a Whovian?"
Arthur lavishes his tongue over the spot before pulling away, staring back at Eames with a blank look. "You want to talk about this now?" he says, disbelieving.
"This is what we're meant to be talking about!" Eames says in protest, belying the implication to stop by beginning his own work at Arthur's zipper. "Come on, love, just answer the question," he pleads, running his knuckles against the line of Arthur's cock through his briefs.
If it means Eames will get his hand on Arthur's cock sooner, fuck, Arthur will say anything. "Yes, I grew up on Doctor Who. My parents were big fans." He hisses as Eames' knuckles make their way back down. "When they reference old Who in the new seasons, I always pick up on it. I don't understand what this has to do with anything."
Eames chuckles, drawing his hand back. "Christmas night, darling. Christmas special. I thought we might watch it together."
"Oh yeah," Arthur says. He'd honestly forgotten. Though, in his defense, he has other things on his mind at the moment - namely, regaining the upper hand with Eames.
"Grew up with it, eh?" Eames says, delighted. "I have so many questions--"
The rest of his sentence gets choked off as Arthur gives his pants and boxers a good tug, freeing his cock and taking it firmly in hand in one quick movement. "You were saying?"
"It can wait," Eames says, hips shifting in an attempt to get Arthur to move his hand. He does, pumping just once, but he knows even before Eames' hiss that it's nothing more than a further tease. Eames hands come to Arthur's hips, pushing ineffectively at his jeans. "Arthur, please."
Arthur pulls back long enough to hook his thumbs into his own clothes and pull them down, and when he pushes up against Eames, fisting their cocks together, it feels amazing. It's even better when Eames reaches down to do the same, even better when the slide of their hands gets slick with precome, even better when Eames presses his other hand against the middle of Arthur's back to pull him in and fuck his tongue into Arthur's mouth.
Eventually, Eames' grip tightens and Arthur moves right along with him, taking control of the kiss as Eames tenses further. Arthur can feel his own orgasm building as Eames gasps and comes, and with just a few more frantic pulls on his own cock, Arthur is spilling out over their hands.
As Arthur feels his breathing slowing more toward normal, Eames cups his neck and pulls him in to kiss him sweetly. Arthur's already got his hands fitted casually against Eames' hips before he realizes the mess he's spreading onto Eames' shirt. "Fuck, now I do need to do laundry."
Eames just laughs.
******
That night, when Arthur goes into the kitchen, he sees the list long mislabeled as 'JOB REQUIREMENTS' now has an addition:
GALLIFREY IS THE OPPOSITE OF A SAFE WORD.
THE END